With their debut album “Here For Your Pleasure,” Paraquay proves that being vulnerable can be cool, or at least entertainingly awkward.
Paraquay’s music echoes this delightful blend of vulnerability and happenstance. Their Pixies-esque excursion through rock, pop, and grunge pays homage to their influences, yet never fails to inject their unique twist. With each track, the band fearlessly navigates the unpredictability of their sound, leaving us pleasantly surprised and craving more.
As you embark on the thirteen-track journey of “Here For Your Pleasure,” be prepared to be swept away by catchy melodies, expertly executed guitar lines, and the infectious chemistry of a band that genuinely enjoys each other’s company.
From the opening animated riffs of “The Cowboys Are Coming” to the introspective punk-grunge finale of “Maybe I’ll,” Paraquay keeps the momentum alive, never losing their grip on your attention.
Gus Walker, the band’s frontman, exposes his inner anxious jealous goblin through a charmingly self-deprecating series of meet cutes. As we delve into his psyche, we witness a journey where goblin envy succumbs to sheer admiration and a shared love for Hiatus Kaiyote.
These meet-cute encounters offer a sweet and cinematic insight into the band’s development. It’s a hands-on experience of how a perfect band is born from a delicate combination of luck, confidence, and stars aligning. Who knew that vulnerability and quirky serendipity could be the secret ingredients for creating something truly special?
Let Paraquay take you on a joyous ride through the triumphs and mishaps of rock ‘n’ roll. Embrace the vulnerability, relish in the quirky serendipity, and discover a band that effortlessly combines heart-on-sleeve honesty with a playful spirit. With “Here For Your Pleasure,” Paraquay proves that even amidst uncertainty, great music can emerge, creating an experience you won’t want to miss.
With all that said, what is it that connects band members to each other? is it divine intervention? Total happenstance? Strategic flirting? Gus gives us a bit of an insight with his adorable meet-cutes:
A SERIES OF MEET CUTES (FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF TEENAGE GUS WALKER)
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s being shown up. At the deepest and darkest depths of my personality lies a hideous shade of green, a competitive goblin. I’d just completed the first set as a singer-songwriter I had ever played, feeling a gross combination of anxiety and satisfaction. Having cut my teeth as the pre-eminent teenage bass player on the coastal blues/psych scene, debuting as a capital ‘A’ Artist was the start of this whole shit-show.
And then the Sweethearts take the stage. Fuck. Talk about being blown out of the water. I’d played the same bill as them before but that night they had something extra in their tank. It’s name? Jade.
After demolishing every other act and the school appointed judge singing her praise, we get a chance to ‘network’ or the teenage equivalent. Feeling crushed by the realisation that I’m going to have to compete with her for any gig as a bassist, I realize that I have to pivot. We spoke of Motown and Soul. Thinking I was top shit, I brought up Hiatus Kaiyote, only to realize I was completely outgunned. I refused to have to compete against her ever again.
I got her to commit to a new band that night.
It felt like starting a new school. It was only one class, I knew people in it and it was in a subject I was obsessed with. But that VET Music class still scared the hell out of me. I’d had the idea of a band kicking around in my head for the summer after meeting Jade in late September. I liked the idea of playing talent scout, the first time I could make a project entirely my own with people I didn’t have to compromise with. I might’ve been a bit of a dick.
Walking past a room I hear this roaring solo through the walls. Part Hendrix, part shipping fog horn. I contemplated opening the door and introducing myself, but I felt as if I didn’t deserve to be on the other side of the room.
After class, I’m walking with a couple of friends I knew from playing gigs. Our trio stopped to speak to a shaggy looking kid, clearly laying the moves on one of us. We’ve debated if they were flirting or not before, but for the sake of my memory they were.
I felt my more anxious tendencies flare up, feeling a little too much like a voyeur in this scenario. They question whether my friend is a Drones fan. After she answers in the negative I pipe up that “I love Gaz”.
Their mouth goes slack, and a glimmer shines in their eye. After a second of silence, they pulled their uniform up to reveal a Tropical Fuck Storm shirt. It felt destined. Milo introduces themselves.
It felt fucking weird. I didn’t know how, why or when but I’d committed the cardinal sin of my scene. I’d been asked to replace a friend in a band they had co-founded. I could feel the bassist, other guitarist and drummer studying me, watching.
I got it too, nobody wants a stranger to replace someone you’d spent months developing chemistry, rhythm and good times with. Still staring daggers at me. As they start looping a chord progression I begin to shiver. I can’t tell if it’s nerves, poison they’ve put in the glass of water I’m drinking or the awful August windchill in this uninsulated bungalow, but something has my teeth chattering.
Deciding that if I’m gonna freeze, I’m gonna do it mid-solo, I break into a classic pentatonic. The drummer and I weirdly locked eyes. The most apt-description of Jett at the time was surfer dude. Long brown hair, beanie, King Gizz shirt. Classic Bellarine dude energy.
And yet there was still some magic there. If cliches save time, I’ll lay them out there. Where he zigged, I zigged. Where I zagged, he zagged. There was nothing that needed to be practiced or forced. It was the first truly natural feeling of musical kinship I’d ever felt. I distinctly remember thinking “I’ve found my drummer”.
Listen to Here for Your Pleasure, and pretend you too are a part of Paraquay! Maybe pick up a tambourine or something.
