The Great Emu War Casualties Talk New EP, Their Origins And More
Words by Glenn Sargeant
Feature Image Photo Credit: Supplied By Dedikated PR
Melbourne’s The Great Emu War Casualties operate in the space between addictive, summery indie-rock in the vein of Bloc Party and Two Door Cinema Club but with a flair for leftfield adventurism which leans towards Talking Heads or Everything Everything. Their new ‘Permanent Resident’ EP is out now and we spoke to them here:
Who’s in The Great Emu War Casualties, how did you meet, and what do you play?
The Great Emu War Casualties is or are Joe Jackson, Saskia Clapton, Bibek Tamang, and Cat Sanzaro. We sing and play guitar, play the bass and sing, play the drums and drink, and play synth with percussion and sing — sometimes all at once. Make sense of that, I dare you.
What’s the story behind the band name?
It comes from the Great Emu War — when Australia lost an actual war against its native emu population. The army killed so few of their targets that it felt like a fitting symbol for our general sense of bad luck.
What’s your earliest musical memory?
Probably Mum singing in the kitchen, or a couple of primary school gigs I was terrified to play. For the first one, I lied and said my string had snapped so I wouldn’t have to perform. For the second, my string actually had snapped in the case on the way to school. I’ve never enjoyed performing in front of people.
When did you start songwriting?
In my mid-teens, when I started getting real support slot interest around the north of the UK. I actually began life performing as one half of a Tenacious D tribute act — I was Kyle. We found we needed to write our own songs to get booked as supports. They weren’t good. They were awful. But once we started ticking the box of “performers who write their own material,” a whole new world opened up to us. The world was horrible and it should’ve stayed closed.
Your new EP Permanent Resident is out now. How did you approach making it?
In true indie-band fashion: scattergun. These five tracks came from a much bigger batch of demos we took into a couple of studios over the last couple of years — one in Byron Bay, one in Sydney. We wanted to keep it as organic as possible. There’s a lot more acoustic guitar on this one, fewer digital synths, more analogue sounds. Partly a preference thing, partly access — we had some fancy gear around, so we used it. Except for the acoustics. Any acoustic guitar you hear was never re-tracked; it was recorded on my couch at 2am demo sessions in Melbourne.
Where did you record it, and who produced it?
We recorded at Music Farm in Byron Bay and Hercules Street Studios in Surry Hills, Sydney. It was produced by us and Wayne Connolly — who likes to remind us that he’s an ARIA winner. He didn’t win it with us, though.
Any memorable or funny moments from recording?
Not really. I get too wrapped up in my own head with music, so I have a crap time and make everyone else have a crap time too. There were some pigs at Music Farm though. And a venomous snake got into the air conditioner, so we had to stop tracking while the snake man came to save us. That’s about it. I wish I was a snake man.
Any particular gear that shaped the sound?
Oh yeah, loads. Synths, microphones, all the cool stuff. There was one mic in a special box I wasn’t allowed to use because my singing technique wasn’t good enough — Cat got that honour. I couldn’t tell you what any of them were, but things felt particularly groovy at the time.
Which track finds you at your happiest, angriest, and most reflective?
Happiest — Old Dog, though “happy” is doing a lot of work there.
Angriest — Overreacting.
Most reflective — Ashes.
Was it a difficult EP to write?
It’s been harder to live with than to write. The songs fell out easily enough — it wasn’t a practical challenge, or even an emotional one in the traditional sense. It was just a matter of shutting up and letting the feelings take form. But it’s been heavy to carry around since.
Who designed the EP artwork?
Jessica Rigby — @rigby_artist
Does the title have a special meaning?
Yeah, it comes from my own permanent residency visa being granted in Australia.
Tell us about the track Late Reply.
It started from realising I’d neglected everyone I knew — opening my phone and every reply I drafted began with “I’m sorry for my late reply,” which became the first line of the chorus. It’s sort of about me, but also not at all. It’s about what it’s like to live like this.
Any visualisers or videos planned?
No, haha.
Where’s your hometown? Describe it in five words.
Wallasey Village. I do not visit often.
How do you look after your voice?
I do not.
Any live dates planned for the UK or Europe in 2025/26?
Not yet, but we’re trying. If you’re booking a venue, put us on the list.
What two things do you hope to have achieved once you’ve left the stage?
To have fulfilled my contractual obligation — and, more sincerely, to have left an impression.
Favourite stage gear?
Everything I own is old and dusty, and I love it all to smithereens.
If you could score any novel-to-film adaptation, what would it be?
Briefing for a Descent into Hell. If I’m scoring it, that means they’re making it, and I’d love to watch that.
Who are some of your musical influences or recommendations?
Everyone should listen to Deep Sea Diver immediately.
What makes The Great Emu War Casualties happy — and what makes you unhappy?
Just stroke my hair and tell me you’re proud of me. It’s been a hard few months.
Feature Image Photo Credit: Supplied By Dedikated PR
The Great Emu War Casualties new EP ‘Permanent Resident’ is out now.
