The Soorleys

"TRUE NORTH" EP OUT NOW

I'm a I'm a a diva

Recently we were at a department store and a friend turned to Millie and I and asked:

"So who's the diva in the band?"

I'm thinking to myself...I don't really know. I mean no one is particularly difficult...such a tough question...we've never been asked that before...

But before I had the chance to even begin voicing my thoughts, I looked over and Millie was pointing her finger right at me. Me?!

Not only was I shocked at her very swift (and deft) response but when I asked the other guys who the diva in the band was, they all responded in the exact same way:

"Wait you didn't know that you were the diva? Ohhhh I thought it was so obvious"

Sorry, What? 

So what if I only want to shop at whole foods stores? And am always the first to seek out the Green Room when we arrive at gigs? (If I don't get a tea with lemon and honey soon, imma cry). And just because I never want to sit in the back of the van, doesn't make me a diva (I just have avatar limbs). 

What I find alarming is that not only did the whole band agree that I was the "princess" of the family, but they had all discussed it and unanimously accepted it long before this even came up. 

They didnt even give me a chance to explain myself. So here I am, blogging about it. 

Look, I just don't want to sleep in another weird pretend Airbnb place that is actually a gross hostel. I don't want baby vomit on me while we are driving 5 hours to the next gig. I don't wanna hear my little sister incessantly coughing while we go to sleep in said gross hostel. 

You know what Soorleys, I AINT NO DIVA. AND I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS TYPE OF ACCUSATION. BUT IF I HAVE TO SLEEP ON ONE MORE AIR MATTRESS, IMMA SCREAM & MAKE YOUR LIFE HELL.

It's not my fault I have long limbs and a low tolerance for uncomfortable situations. 

I ain't no diva.  

- Lora  

 

Cycling in San Francisco

 

In San Francisco. Haven't been on a bicycle since the incident at 8th grade bike camp (traumatic tale...need counselling) 

Riding up hills to the Golden Gate Bridge. Think I might pass out and fall into the Bay. 

Millie has abandoned me. Send help. Or a ute to take me and my stupid bike back to where we belong. 

Can't even speak in full sentences. So unfit. So traumatised. 

Other than that, tour is going great.

 

- Lora

WEST COAST REPRESENT

Ah, California. The place where dreams come true. Seth meets Summer. Sandy Cohen enjoys the perfect bagel. Katy Perry and Snoop Dogg collaborate. What more could you wish for?

So, just some background info; whenever Laura and I travel together – whether it’s a two hour drive to Sydney or a holiday to Bali – we always manage to find ourselves in sticky situations. We attract disaster and disaster certainly seems to enjoy our company. From getting lost (Laura is convinced I’m technologically challenged, even though I know that woman from Google Maps is a filthy liar), to getting stung by sea urchins, to getting third degree burns on motorcycles, we just can’t seem to get this travel thing right. Regardless of our history, Laura and I were determined to make sure nothing of the sort happened this time around.

Three days in and I already have so much to tell you.

Our first night in LA, before we’d even left the airport, we’d lost the mandolin. It never appeared on our baggage carousel, so after waiting for about an hour, then going from LAX staff member to staff member we finally found out what had happened to this teeny tiny instrument. It was put on another plane. The kind lady at baggage reclaim got an address for it to be shipped to and all was well. Then, we got to our accommodation. Not realizing this AirBnB apartment, was really more a hostel than anything else, we arrived to a rather rude shock. Picture this:

Hot pink walls.

Strobe lights.

Disco Balls.

Several photos of Kendall Jenner around the house in frames that say “I Love Mum”.

We were off to a good start.

 

 

After that, our first night out, our host called us an Uber. Laura, the ever friendly lass was trying to make small talk with our driver. This is how the conversation went:

Laura: “Is this your full-time job?”

Driver: “Yes.”

Laura: “Oh, that’s good.”

Driver: “It’s good?”

Laura: “Yeah…?”

Driver: “How do you know it’s good? It’s not good job. It’s bad job.”

Laura: “Oh really? I just—“

Driver: “You say it’s good job, but how do you know? It’s very bad job.”

Laura: “….”

Driver: “Why you think it’s good job? Its really not good job.”

Laura: “Do you want to work somewhere else then?”

Driver: “No. But it’s very bad job.”

Oh. My. Goodness.

 

And then we got to San Fran. We arrived at another AirBnB apartment after 8 hours of travel on a bus. So, naturally, we were desperate to use the bathroom. Only the door was locked. And we didn’t have a key. And our host wasn’t answering his phone. After about an hour of trying to jimmy this door open with no success and realizing there was no late night diner within a five-mile radius, we had to do the unthinkable. Yes. We had to alleviate ourselves in the backyard. I know. So wrong. But when nature calls, you gotta answer right? RIGHT?!

 

This incident was almost as traumatizing as having to alleviate myself on Laura’s hand after she was stung by a sea urchin in Bali. (I wasn’t going to share this info, but this forum has really liberated me.) At least we got a discount on the price of the apartment! (is it wrong that we didn’t tell our host that we urinated in his backyard? Nah. It’s what he deserves for locking us out of the toilet)

 

But this incident isn’t even the funniest part of the trip thus far. The highlight was yesterday afternoon. Laura had suggested that we go for a leisurely bike ride to the Golden Gate Bridge, forgetting that she has an innate fear of bikes since the traumatic incident at her 8th grade Bike Camp (WTF?). So we start our forty-five minute trek toward the bridge, only, about halfway through our ride to the bridge  (after moaning and groaning to herself and muttering “I hate this” every time we went up a slight hill), Lor decided to call it quits. I tried to encourage her to press on, but she wouldn’t. So I left her. Anyone who knows Lor, knows that this is perfectly normal behavior for her.

 

There I was, riding alone. Me…by myself, laughing hysterically from the marina to the bridge. Not even getting lost in a construction site trying to find the bridge could bring me down. This was too good. I saw the Golden Gate Bridge. It was nice. Then I rode back, still laughing like a maniac to meet Lor in the same spot I left her, with her helmet still on, looking more disheveled than someone who has been sitting down for half an hour should. This is going to be a wonderful six weeks.

Millie.

Next Stop: Hollywood

Here we go again; to the land of the free and the home of the brave. This time we’ve got one less sister, but an extra baby and said baby’s Nana in her stead. While Shell stays home to work at her real job, we must endeavor to survive without her. It’s not going to be an easy task, but we must endeavor nonetheless. We will miss her sweet, sweet harmonies, crazy dancing and serious harmonica skills. (I’m really trying to nail these harmonica parts, but I just end up with the hiccups. I don’t have the diaphragm muscles for this job.) This time, we decided to do some travelling in separate groups and then congregate in the same general vicinity when it is required. Laura and I start in the West Coast then meet the rest of the clan in Kansas City (and by “the rest of the clan”, I really just mean Dorothy, Toto and The Wicked Witch of the West.) From there, we will continue playing (and hiccupping) all through the mid-west with our dear friends, Edison. It certainly is going to be a wild six weeks. Watch this space for further updates. That’s me signing off. Millie

Abel Oakes

You may or not have noticed, we've taken a rather small hiatus for the past few months. Our lead singer Beth and guitarist Chris have had a beautiful baby boy who goes by the name of Abel Oakes Gleeson. We're pretty smitten with the little guy, but now it's time to get back to work.

Shat

So, a few years after we started playing music together as "The Soorleys", we found out that Beth and Chris had their first baby on the way and her name is River. She's our tour baby and she's probably the cutest thing we've ever seen.

She's really very clever. She has an extensive vocabulary which she uses to its full extent. "More" and "Ta" are the most frequently used. But the names that she has for us (two in particular) are the best. While it didn't take her long to learn "Mama", "Dada", "Mimi" and "Lala", Nick, Shell and Sam have been a bit harder to master. She hasn't quite come up with her own way of saying "Nick" but she's made a collective pronoun for Sam and Shell which is truly glorious.

Shat.

Yes, Shat. No one knows where it came from but this is the name that seems to have stuck and neither of them can escape it. It certainly brings me great joy but it's been a bit of a battle for Sam and Shell to re-teach River these new names when she's already created a name for both of them that is far superior. While it's probably a little inappropriate to refer to your aunt and uncle as excrement, we figured she could come up with a few nicknames for Nick that are worse.

Millie

Did you take your puffer today?

Alright, so, I've got a relatively mild case of asthma. It's hardly ever an issue unless I'm about to go to bed or I've just run up a flight of stairs (which could very well mean that I'm just really unfit, but we'll go with the asthma). It's like this vicious cycle - the more that I cough, the more that I think about how I need to stop coughing and then all I can think about is the fact that I really need to cough. It gets particularly bad when I know I'll be sharing a room with someone else because then I get an asthma cough AND a nervous cough. So really, there's just a whole lot of coughing on my part and a whole lot of grumpiness for everyone else.

The thing is, I've tried all sorts of different tricks. I've tried taking a puffer four times a day, drinking boiling water with honey, trying all sorts of throat lozenges and cough suppressants but this wretched cough just won't seem to leave me and, for the sake of the sanity of my fellow band members, I should probably try and come up with a foolproof solution.

Honestly, this post doesn't really have much of a purpose unless someone out there has a miracle solution for me. I'm really just searching for some sympathy from the world wide web. If someone could send me a virtual pat on the back it would be greatly appreciated. Not to assist with the cough, just as a way of saying "I feel your pain, girl."

Millie

I got all my sisters with me

Ah, family. It's a strange dynamic, really. Everyone seems to be quite intrigued at how we manage to be in a band with 8 members that are all family. And frankly, I don't blame them.

In a sense, you get the worst end of the deal. Who else, other than family, would you feel comfortable to be brutally honest with about anything from song ideas to being late to soundcheck to how annoying it is when they cough all night? (That one's mainly me, but that's a whole separate issue.) If you think about it, we've really done quite well. I mean, no one's been punched in the teeth and I've only had to sleep on the couch and cough all by myself about 40% of the time.

But in another sense, you really do get the best end of the deal. Because, who else, other than family, could you be brutally honest with about everything and always know that, because you are family, you will always talk about it, then laugh about it? And because you are family you can't really stay mad at each other for too long.

It also doesn't hurt that no one can be angry while baby River is giving you the thumbs up.

Millie

Aeroplane fuel doesn't melt stainless steel

On our various trips and tours around the place, we've begun to realise that our bass player Nick has vast amounts of wisdom on things that you wouldn't think need much wisdom at all. i.e conspiracy theories on George W. Bush or fun facts about red belly black snakes. So I thought it appropriate to compile said wisdom into some quotes, completely out of context. But I promise, they don't make much sense in context either.

"I don't feel the need to lose any weight"
"Aeroplane fuel doesn't melt stainless steel, Simon"
"When George W Bush is shape-shifting on top of you, you'll think of me"
"I love that cream"
"I could do an escort"
"Who could resist the boobs?"
"All these bitches I take out."
"I want one of those Apple Watches. I like the wristband"
"Red belly black snakes won't kill you, but they will shut your body down for a very long time."
"If you guys are going to King's Cross, let me know. I gotta take some photos down there."
"I'm probably gonna wear my matching Adidas tracksuit."


Just to name a few.
These stellar moments of profound and peculiar sentiments truly do make for interesting conversation, and we wouldn't have it any other way.


On a side note, here are some other direct quotes from band members:
"Males are the original breastfeeders" - Sam
"It's better to let the stench live" - Beth
"Beyonce's hogging up my feed" - Shell
"I couldn't move! All I could do was shimmy." - Lor
"Someone's blowing on my neck!" - Chris