10 Questions: Matt Finucane

01. Why did you start in this business we call show?
I get so much excitement from certain music and wanted to pass on the buzz, the sense of finally stumbling onto something that makes sense. If I could convey just a fraction of that, it’s all been worthwhile. Also, I’m a damaged attention-whore.

02. What turns you on creatively, spiritually, or emotionally?
See above. And I like people who do their own thing in whatever field, damn the doubters and gruel vendors… It’s always so good to find, even if the end product isn’t “acceptable”. Failing that, a middle-aged skateboarder falling over in the street always cheers me up.

03. What is your favourite swear word?
Hmm… I don’t know, “fiddlesticks”, probably. That’s a fucking difficult cunt of a question.

04. What would have been the worst possible day for you to sleep through the alarm?
The day when a random chain of events took me on an incredible journey packed with adventure and fulfilment, just because I was in the right place at that one particular moment… Nah, not really. I never set an alarm if I can help it.

05. Presley or Costello?
One’s a magnificent dumb animal, the other’s a hostile little twerp. One’s pure sex, the other’s all bile. So… both,depending.

06. What was one gig (yours or someone else’s) that made time stand still for you?
The Stooges at Nightmare Before Christmas. Or maybe seeing The Fall for the first time – in both cases the sound had an actual, near-painful weight that slammed into my impressionable mind like a boot into a puddle. As for my own gigs, time always stands still – for better or sometime worse. If it doesn’t, I’ve gone wrong somewhere.

07. What sound or noise do you love?
Feedback in the key of A.

08. It’s 3 a.m. The promoter stole all the money. Two people turned up to the gig. Your name is spelled wrong on the poster. It’s raining. What makes you get up tomorrow and do it all again?
Pure self-delusion and the endless drive for revenge (in other words, a lifetime of emotional baggage). Seriously though, there comes a point where the idea of stopping for any reason short of death just seems silly. Like, you found this miracle device and you just want to drop it?

09. Where do odd socks go?
Into a crimson wasteland where the blind, screaming damned crawl over rubble and filth, while an insane bulldog-headed god jiggles his wattles and laughs through a mouthful of socks.

10. What will it say on your tombstone?
“Oh, now I get it”

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