Junkies Excel

2 April 2014 | 11:46 am | Mac McNaughton

"This album is sounding fucking sexy."

"The history of this room is just spooky,” frontman Mitch McDonald says, his eyes starting to widen, as if warning that things are about to get freaky in the Astor Theatre's lounge-cum-recording studio. This was supposedly WA's first pornographic theatre in the 1930s and – I don't know if people are just fucking with me – but somebody was supposedly murdered in the old projector room, which serves as the control room, and it's haunted. I got locked in here a couple of nights ago. Somebody tried to break in while we were recording. They fucked the lock up downstairs and I had to sleep in here by myself until 9am.”

The salacious vibes seem well suited to the ribaldry of the songs coming out of recording sessions for the Perth trio's second album due in September. Titled Blowing On The Devil's Strumpet, named after the rambunctious closer to their newly released Flight Test EP, it seems to be powered by their collectively throbbing pants, absorbing pornographic vibes from the long-since sullied studio walls and floors.

“This album is sounding fucking sexy,” says McDonald. “Most of it is about sex. It's virile, naughty music. We paint some awful pictures. Or kinky pictures, depending on your tastes.” The album's cover features an ink drawing of demon sex by late 19th century illustrator, Aubrey Beardsley. “This girl I met had a tattoo (of one of his images) and gave me a book of his work and I thought this image just had to be on something.” It's a striking image that suits the primal charge of the album.

“We've been playing together since we were 15 so we know how we work,” says drummer Lewis Walsh. “Robbie [Rumble] comes up with some absolute gems which he sits on for ages, brings in, we drag him through it and they're great”.

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Right on cue, said bassist walks in, possibly hoping to have missed the interview. He's the quiet but lovely type who might just be the ace up The Love Junkies' sleeve with inclinations towards three-minute pop songs. “I did my first solo set the other night at The Moon. Seriously shat myself. I forgot lyrics but felt pretty good afterwards. I write my own stuff and forget about it for two years before bringing it out. It's fun to be looking through your Garageband and find lost bedroom demos.”

The boys joke about including Polaroids of their balls with pre-ordered copies of Flight Test. But then the ludicrous proposition momentarily seems like a good idea. “I often walk around this studio imagining people from the 1930s jacking off,” McDonald confesses. By the sounds of it, the album is coming together quite nicely.