on nothing less than the total destruction of rock'n'roll. And having hauled their homemade orchestra across the United States, far beyond the San Francisco Bay area where it all began, SGM's Luddite lessons are beginning to convert rock fans to their skewed philosophy. At least that's what drummer Matthias Bossi thinks...
SGM sound like no other band. What drives you to make such an unearthly racket?
This band's composed of what I'd call nerdy radicals; people who are influenced as much by literature and underground culture as they are by music. We've always been political, and much of our music is a commentary on technology and the destruction of the Earth. The Unabomber, Theodore Kaczynski, features heavily in our music; he's an unpopular figure because people focus on his ultimate fault, that he was a sociopath and ended up killing people. But his manifesto is brilliant - everyone should read it.
As well as sounding like Hell's house band, SGM don't conform to the traditional rock image. How would you describe your stage show?
It's an absurd Dadaist cabaret. At a typical show you'd see us in our matching antique dresses and Kabuki make-up, with blacked-out teeth and shitty instruments that look as if they've fallen off the back of a biplane on route to Antarctica. It's theatrical, but very, very black.
And your singer, Nils, is, well... a unique character.
Nils is the world's most frightening performer. I mean, Nils is black - he's white, but he's black. He was the only white guy growing up in Oakland, California, so he's as black as the blackest guy you know. He has this incredible voice and Jamaican accent that he breaks into between songs - he just babbles, and you can't understand anything he's saying. In a night he can slip in and out of seven different personalities, and often I can't play because I've ruptured myself laughing. It's like the dark comedy hour.
And how do your audiences react? Do they rush for the exits?
It depends where we are. Our seasoned veterans just eat it up, but new people are like deer caught in the headlights - their jaws hanging down, eyes wide, just shell-shocked. We're not on the radio and you can't download our music, so we have to convert our fans one-by-one at shows. It means we have a lot of rabid followers, from middle-aged, Yes-T-shirt-wearing prog rockers to black metal kids who love slamming their heads to the music.
And you make your own instruments...
Almost every instrument we play is homemade. We have the Slide Piano Log, recently renamed the Sledgehammer Dulcimer, which is an 8ft-long piece of wood strung with bass piano strings that you whack with a metal rod. Then there's The Thing, a rubber mat with some tennis racquet strings that sounds a bit like a hip-hop beat machine, but made by the Brothers Grimm. Others include the Pedal-Action Wiggler - which looks like a bow and arrow and goes Boing! Boing! Boing! - the Vatican, which is like a cymbal stand covered in tumours, and The Lever which goes Burrr! Burrr! All the instruments are like splintery, wooden-looking, unvarnished works of art. But we can't make any more as there's no room left in the van.
Even though SGM are deadly serious about their music, there's an obvious undercurrent of humour...
I don't think this band could exist if there was no humour. Some people can't look beyond the dresses and Shaolin haircuts, but if you do you'll discover a funny and moving show. We're a band that needs to be experienced, not just heard.
*'Of Natural History' is out now, through Mimcry. For more information, but few answers, check out Sleepytimegorillamuseum.com
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