William Street Strikers

After nearly two decades of raw, unfiltered storytelling, William Street Strikers return with Cabramatta Sunrise — their seventh release and first concept album. In this exclusive interview with Tsk Tsk Magazine, the band dives deep into the realism that’s shaped their journey, the creative highs and lows behind Stupid Little World, and why their vinyl-only release is a deliberate stand against digital saturation.

Cabramatta Sunrise is your seventh release and first concept album — what inspired you to take such a narrative-driven approach this time around, and how does the story reflect your own journey in the industry?
The two main reasons are I studied professional writing and as much as I wish I had the skill, patience and wherewithal to write a book, I don't think I'm ready which then led into the next best thing that I'm adept at which is songwriting. Being a big fan of the genre and having lived, observed and soaked in the experiences I decided to do what I was taught — "write what you know." So Cabramatta Sunrise is a very thinly veiled autobiography.

Having all come up through the music machine in your teens, how have those early experiences shaped the realism and independence that define William Street Strikers today?
Greatly! I remember supporting Richard Clapton as a teenager and watching him being a consummate professional playing in a small room in the valley between his numerous peaks. I saw the reality of the arts and also how to carry yourself as an Australian artist.

The single ‘Stupid Little World’ feels like a moment of quiet existential reflection — can you walk us through the headspace you were in when writing it, and what that ‘breakfast table moment’ represents for you?
The breakfast table moment is me after every project. I have nihilistic tendencies and with every neurological tickle I get on the way to completion of a project comes the inverse slump after.

You’ve mentioned that Cabramatta Sunrise charts the arc from idealism to disillusionment — do you see that as a universal creative experience, or something specific to the music industry?
I think it's a universal creative experience for good art, and I think it's rife in all artistic fields of endeavour, as the essence of the creative drive is sensitivity. This is why the industry has so many mental health issues and the associated behaviours that are used by artists to cope.

Releasing the album exclusively on vinyl feels like a deliberate statement. What does the physicality of that format mean to you in an era of digital saturation?
What that means to me is a big middle finger to the digital exploitation of artists. I have enough dedicated Striker likers who I've curated over our existence to be able to do this. I'd rather be the local deli than Kmart, and I think it gives our clique a kick too — kind of like buying a jacket from an op shop; you know you won't be seeing it all over the place. That is not to say that I don't want our music to be heard as much as possible, but f**k 'em!

After nearly two decades of running your own race, what’s kept the fire burning for William Street Strikers — what still drives you to create and push forward after all these years?
I think choice — you must know it. As an artist, if you're still madly creating art after a certain point there's probably something pathologically wrong with you, but there are others who are starving for your pathology.