Dr Sure's Unusual Practice

Punk Community Service

That's Dougal Shaw's driving ethos behind Marthouse Records. He's learned a lot releasing music independently for almost a decade and wants it to take less time for up-and-coming artists, so he's working with them to fast-track their releases.

By Billie Estrine

Sat. Aug 10 2024

Where did you grow up?

Me? I grew up in Central Queensland, in a little town called Emu Park. Maybe 2,000 people live there. It's a tiny little town; the nearest city is Rockhampton. It's [got] real, country town vibes. It's this tiny little coastal town. It's really beautiful. It's the start of the Great Barrier Reef. So there [are] just islands off the coast. It's really picturesque. It's a great place to grow up because you just roam [the] town and get up to no good.

I went to school in Rockhampton. Which is a real cross-section of cultures. You've got all the cowboys and farm people coming from out west. Then you've got a lot of, in Australia, we call them bogans, which is, maybe, the equivalent of rednecks in America. Then you've got leftover hippies from the 60s who started these little towns along the coast.

So, it's a funny, funny old place.

How did the amalgamation of cultures influence you when you were young?

Both my parents are artists. So, I grew up with a value [of] creativity. [We] used to make our own clothes. All sorts of shit make our own everything. Birthday presents, whatever, it was always about making things.

Whereas the kids I was going to school with [it's] a region with a lot of backward ideologies. That's kind of stuck in the past in a lot of ways. There's a lot of racism, wealth inequality, and people living in poverty.

Up in Central Queensland, there you've got a lot of mining. So, there's this huge inequity where you've got these people with shit loads of money and maybe not much idea about the world outside of this little backward bubble.

I don't want to rag on it heaps because it was a great place to grow up. But, it's a place that elected a lady called Pauline Hanson, who is maybe the most right-wing, backward politician that we have in Australia. So, I feel like that says a lot about the culture.

What inspired you to start making music?

My dad played music, so growing up, it was always around. I never really got into it myself until my teens. When I was 15, I left Rockhampton solo and moved to the Gold Coast. [I] moved in with an older friend, and when I was there, I got introduced to the hardcore scene. Which was a real revelation for me. In terms of a place that aligned with a lot of the values that I grew up with around DIY and creativity. [I] also [had] a like-minded community, which I never really felt I had up north. I always felt really like an outlier up there. Then, to come into this space, it felt like I found my people.

That was when I made a hardcore band, I was 15. It was called Throat Punch. Which is hilarious! I first tried my hand at Garage Band, just playing around making weird songs.

Is that when you started playing live?

No, I never actually performed. It wasn't until later.

After I finished school, all I wanted to do was travel. And so I just worked as a dishe, or whatever job I could get to save money and then go traveling.

So I was living in Canada for a year, and in the UK for [another] year, and I was lugging around this battered acoustic guitar. I guess it was when I was traveling that I started [playing live]. I think I did some open mic nights, jamming and making silly songs with people I met along the way.

When I came home from those travels, I started trying to put a band together. One of my best friends who I did a bunch of traveling with, lived [on] the Sunshine Coast. He and I tried for a while to get a band together up north, and eventually, we moved to Melbourne together in 2013. The whole purpose of moving was to play music and try [to] get a band together.

Can you tell me about Dr Sure's Unusual Practice's recording style?

Yeah, it's hard to succinctly describe it because it changes all the time. It started out [as] home recordings, just me solo. Then, the second LP was the full band recording live in the studio. A lot of the EPs and stuff in between were just solo home recordings myself. The last LP was more like this collage, part live recording with the band [and] part demos. A real mix of all of the above.

It definitely changes a lot with each release, depending [on] who's around and available to come and jam and lay some stuff down.

Did a lot of the recording happen in the shed behind your old house, which I've read a lot about?

Yes, that was where it all started. I lived in that share house for six years and set up a studio out the back. That's where I recorded the first album and a lot of stuff before that.

Eventually, Jake, who plays bass in the band, moved into that house. So, we started doing a lot more recording. Jack, the original guitarist, lived there before I did, so we made a lot of music there.

Yeah, a lot of stuff happened in that shed. It's still going. I moved out a couple years ago, but Jake still lives there and now there's a whole new crew of musos living there and making music in that shed.

The shed lives on.

Yes. The Shed lives.

Was your introduction to the Naarm/Melbourne music scene in 2013?

Yeah, I guess so. Before I moved down, my mate Toby and I came and visited. I think we stayed for a week or two; I can't really remember. But we came to suss it out. We also went to Sydney; we were trying to suss out where we wanted to live.

Yeah, [we] came to Melbourne, and our little minds were blown by the fact that you could go and see bands almost every night of the week. Or you could go every night of the week. There were so many free shows. That made the decision pretty easy after that little visit.

How would you describe the community created by the Naarm/Melbourne music scene?

I think it's so diverse, [with] so many little scenes within scenes. And, that's what makes it such a living [and] thriving community. No matter what you do, there's a community for it. So, no matter what your little niche is, you can find a thriving community [that] will get behind it.

Do you think that there's something political about creating a community?

Yeah, especially doing something creative. It's an inherently political practice. Living in this fast-paced, capitalistic society, pursuing something like music doesn't make sense in the context of this capitalistic pursuit we're stuck in. A big part of that is building community. Engaging with and creating a space that is open to people sharing their ideas, opinions, views on society, and criticisms of society.

Yeah, it goes against the engine.

Sure.

Which is important.

Exactly.

Has music helped you build community?

100 percent, yeah, everyone I know or hang out with or engage with in Melbourne [are] people I've met through music.

You critique the real estate agency's ever-growing evil characteristics on Dr Sure's Unusual Practice's latest album, Total Reality.

Yes.

How has interest in Melbourne real estate affected the Melbourne underground music scene and the community you're around?

I'll often use something like [a] real estate agent as a symbol of a greater problem. So there [are] songs where it sounds really literal like I'm ragging on real estate agents, which I am, but also it's more of a totem of the greater problems we're faced with.

But, in the context [of] what you're saying, for sure. Maybe that's why I latched on to real estate agents. That's a punching bag for these greater issues because we've got developers coming in and knocking down these historic venues and trying to capitalize on these cultural spaces that have only thrived through artists and, through music coming in and kind of gentrifying these areas. Then you got the real estate agents driving up the prices so that these people who made these areas cool are driven further and further out.

On a more personal note, I wrote that song, "The Realist," because the week my baby was born, we got a notice saying they were selling the house I was living in. It was so heartless the way that they approached that situation.

So, there [are] levels. It's a symptom of this world we live in, and this infinite growth mindset that's totally not sustainable for the planet.

Why did you decide to found Marthouse Records?

It was kind of accidental because Marthouse was actually a warehouse that I [started] running [in] 2017 or 2018, just before I started Dr Sure's.

I was running this warehouse space in Brunswick. It was a two-story warehouse with a big DIY event space, gallery, studio, and rehearsal space. The upstairs level was 18 artists' studios. It was a big creative space.

Marthouse, the name came from a bunch of our friends that we'd met in Melbourne in those first couple of years used to joke because there was a group of us Queenslanders, and when we say mate, in Queensland vernacular, it comes out like mart. It was Marthouse, it was [a] mate house. A space to bring everyone together.

I felt everyone I knew was doing all this cool creative stuff, and the only time that we would come together was at gigs when the finished product was on display. I really wanted to create a space where we could come together and go through that creative process together, having more of a shared experience in that creative process.

When the warehouse closed down. They sold it, again, to developers. I was pretty burnt out after putting a couple of years into this thing and it all getting ripped out from under our feet. So I couldn't fathom starting another space at that time. But I wanted to keep it alive. So [I took] the Marthouse name and created more of a virtual space to share what we were working on and have a space where it could still live.

What was the transition like from going physical to virtual?

It was pretty organic. I don't think there was ever a time where it was like, all right, I'm going to shift this name into a label; it just kind of happened.

It kind of already existed when we were doing the space. I'd already put out a couple of releases under the Marthouse name because it was what I was doing at the time. It was more a name to put on these releases that me and my friends were making to make it seem more legit.

When the space closed down, it was like, I guess this is a thing now. I'll keep it rolling. It didn't really feel like that was a transition. It was already happening [and] it kept rolling along. Like I said, I never really intended to. There was never a time where I was like, "I want to make a record label." All of a sudden, it was a thing, and now I've kept it rolling.

What are the day to day operations of running a DIY label?

Lots of emails, lots of posting. It's 90 percent admin, a lot of mundane tasks.

Then, you get the payoff holding this thing in your hand. Having this physical release and helping people do the things that I wish I had help with when I was starting out. What took me eight to ten years to figure out I can help people do on their first release and fast-track that process for other people. For me, it feels like a community service.

There's a bunch of us that run DIY labels in Melbourne. We all talk to each other, and we all share knowledge, skills, record mailers, and shit. If you run out, hit up Spoilsport or Anti Fade, "Do you guys have any mailers I can grab while I'm waiting on my order?" I talk to those other people doing the same thing and everyone's struggling and thriving in the same ways.

It's finding the time to do these mundane tasks so that you can then do the fun bits.

Yes, giving back and creating community.

Yeah, exactly. It's fun being part of something bigger than yourself. It's not really about my label; it's more [that] this label is a small part of a much greater ecosystem.

What compels you to center activism through social commentary in your lyrics?

It changes, sometimes I use music as a vessel for social change. Other times, I use it [as] a distraction from the problems of the world that give me mad anxiety.

So, it definitely changes. I like to use it as a way to shine a light on things that I think are easier for people to engage with through a creative medium. Not just music, [but] art in general has always been a way to document society and the political climate of the time. So, I think it's important to keep that alive.

What were some contradictions between the ruling class and working class lives that inspired Scomo Goes to Hawaii and While Aus Burns?

That was such an intense time. Half our country was burning, [and] our prime minister went away. It was just so absurd. It kind of wrote itself. At the time, most of these fires were being fought by volunteer firefighters who were unpaid over Christmas when they should have been with their families.

The whole purpose originally of writing that Scomo Goes to Hawaii EP was as a fundraiser. It was basically me feeling super useless at home, being like, "How can I contribute in my own way?" I write, I can't hold a hose? I probably could, but I can write songs.

I wrote that in a day. I think it was four tracks. I basically just wrote it from the perspective of Scomo sitting on a deck chair in Hawaii. The next day, I put it online, on Bandcamp as a five-dollar digital download and put all the proceeds to the firefighters.

The other one, While Aus Burns, I then drove up to Central Queensland and back. I drove up to see my family for Christmas and then back again, 6,000 kilometres through this charred country. When I got home, I wrote from my perspective as someone witnessing this damage. In the context of our supposed leader sitting on a fucking deck chair in Hawaii.

I think those disparities were so glaringly obvious. If there was ever a time when it was so glaringly obvious, that was the moment. That's why I just put it out so immediately. It felt if it was too far removed from the context of that time, then it would not be super relevant.

The environmental crisis is one of the largest catastrophes of our time. Does the Naarm/Melbourne underground music scene organize to help those most affected by the climate crisis?

It feels like every time there's some kind of ecological crisis, musicians and artists are the first to step in [and] start organizing, putting together fundraisers, protests, and writing protest music. That's something that Naarm, does in a really strong way and definitely something I was inspired to get involved with having lived here.

Where do you think that ready-to-jump-into-action comes from for musicians and people involved in punk music?

Being people who are already involved in sub-cultural, counter-cultural movements, it kind of goes hand in hand with a lot of these issues that come up, whether it's the current ongoing genocide in Palestine. It's not easy, but it's important to people involved in these counter-cultural movements to show empathy and live in a way that's in alignment with [their] values.

Have you been a part of any benefits for Palestine?

Attending the protests on most Sundays. (In Naarm, social justice NGO Free Palestine Melbourne organizes a rally and march from the State Library to Parliament every Sunday starting at 12pm).

Since all this has been happening for the last six months. Everything was already booked for the last six months. We had the Australia and New Zealand tour, album release, and Europe tour. So now, since returning home, the schedule is not fucking chaos.

Not a physical way. Definitely trying to use the platform that we have to shine a light on all these fucking atrocities.

Have you gone to many of the Sunday protests when you're home?

Yeah, whenever I'm home.

What has that been like?

It's been super powerful to hear Palestinian voices [and] to see how people have shown up week in [and] week out in such big numbers. Even when it can be hard to see if it has any impact. Our government [is] giving money to Israeli companies that are providing weapons. Our government refused to sanction our weapons or speak out against the genocide. So, it's impressive and powerful to see [the] resilience of the Palestinian and the pro-Palestinian communities here in Melbourne. Even when it feels like your cries are falling on deaf ears, people continue to show up. It's powerful but super frustrating.

Check out Dr Sure’s Unusual Practice on Instragram: https://www.instagram.com/drsuresunusualpractice/#
Bandcamp: https://drsuresunusualpractice.bandcamp.com/music

Billie Estrine

Naarm/Melbourne, Australia

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