Why Camp Cope's Georgia Has Emotional Blockage And Can't Understand Irony

Melbourne three-piece Camp Cope's following has grown steadily since their first shows together last year, driven by the recent release of their ferociously honest self-titled album. Despite this, Maq says that some things haven't changed. "I have trouble describing my feelings. Music is literally the only way I can process them. You know when you're having deep, intense conversations with people about big issues? I can never channel my feelings during them. There's kind of like a blockage there."

It's the combination of writing and singing that Maq finds freeing. "When I have something powerful to say, and sing it powerfully, that's catharsis. I use songs to make myself feel better by sort of tricking myself. If I sing about getting through something, then I'll get through it. It gives me the opportunity to get that feeling out. Singing for me is like opening the floodgates."

"As far as our politicians, it's almost as if they're not real humans. It's like they've never spoken to someone who's going through tough times."

What exactly she feels when those gates are open is a little less exact. "I don't feel better, and I don't feel worse. I just feel, I guess. It helps me feel the feeling. If you're sad about something you can finally be sad about it, and then you can get angry at that sadness. You can then feel other things towards that sadness that help you get through it." 

This process of elevating sadness until it is transfigured is one that Maq seems adept at, and is reflected throughout the lyrics of the record. "People give me hope. Like, the people marching on the street for asylum seekers, the people who brought in the 100-metre buffer zone around the east Melbourne fertility clinics. They give me hope. However, as far as our politicians, it's almost as if they're not real humans. It's like they've never spoken to someone who's going through tough times."

The record's album cover is perhaps the best summary of her perspective, featuring a very young Maq covered in bandages, grinning in a hospital bed. "When I was two years old, I was in Greece and I saw a giant glass bottle. I decided to go and pick it up and go for a run, to show my parents and sister. Halfway there, I tripped and the bottled smashed. The glass went into me. We went to the hospital in Ithaca, and the doctor put Betadine on my open wounds. If you've ever had Betadine on an open wound, you know that it stings and it sucks. We then went on a fisherman boat to the next island, where this other doctor sewed me up without any anaesthetic. The photo was taken of me just afterwards."

Maq might struggle to find the right words to describe the sentiment in conversation, but the photo represents a feeling that runs throughout the band's songs. "Is ironic the right word? I don't understand irony. That's another thing, I have emotional blockage and I don't understand irony. It's kind of fucked seeing a child covered in bandages. I mean, I almost died. But she's smiling. And giving you hope. Even if you're in a fucked situation, goodness can still come out of it. And laughter, and happiness."