Bread Club may look like another run-of-the-mill indie band based in Sydney, but their powers are far greater than that. Their formation was a supernatural event, a matrimony that will be written in the holy texts of tomorrow.
It was a tale they were, luckily, kind enough to share with us. Take it away, Bread Club.
This is the 100 percent truthful origin story of Bread Club: Sydney’s newest, funkiest, most carb-loaded boys in the music biz.
Chapter 1: Hamish
In the staff bathroom of a Bakers Delight somewhere in the Inner West, a young Hamish tentatively undressed, slipping a pair of black work-pants over his soft white legs. A cleanly shaven, boyish face stared sheepishly back at him from the mirror as he carefully adjusted the hairnet he’d been given during his induction earlier that morning.
“You can do this Hamish”, he whispered to himself in hopeful desperation, beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow, causing the hairnet to slip down over his eyes.
He made his way out of the bathroom, through a maze of stainless steel vats and bags of flour and saw two men standing beside a large industrial oven. One was the manager of the bakery who he’d met earlier that morning. The other could only be described as the world’s most handsome man. He was of an intimidating height, yet somehow perfectly proportional. His locks of beautiful golden hair shone brilliantly in the fluorescent light, flowing down to frame a perfect face, adorned with a sculpted button-nose and princely chin.
Chapter 2: Reginald
“This is Reginald” said the manager. He patted the beautiful man’s broad shoulders and continued. “He’ll be training you up today and showing you how to knead the dough.”
“Pleased to meet you Hamish.”
Reginald’s voice trickled slowly down Hamish’s ear-holes like warm milk, curdling with his conscience and filling him with envy. Soon, the beautiful man was demonstrating how to process the bread, forming yeast and flour into uniform spheres of glistening dough, his perfect hands working fluidly as Hamish clumsily followed on.
As Reginald worked, he played music from iPhone speakers at an obnoxiously loud volume. Whenever his hands were free of dough, he would spend his time enthusiastically playing air guitar, no doubt shredding flawless imaginary guitar riffs to a crowd of crazed imaginary fans. As the day drew on he would change it up, aggressively beating the air with empty fists as he air-drummed. At one point he even mimed what appeared to be some kind of wind instrument, puffing out his cheeks and pressing non-existent valves.
Hamish was bothered by this obscene behaviour, but it also reminded him of the reason he had applied for this job in the first place. He had become strapped for cash, after developing an expensive habit of getting his guitar serviced on a bi-weekly basis. Music had always been his passion and baking was simply a means to an end – though he did love bread.
Chapter 3: Dillon
As their shift came to an end and the fluorescent lights were switched off one-by-one, the manager approached them.
“Can you boys take this unsold bread to the bin out the back?”, he ordered. “Keep an eye out for dumpster divers, they like to loiter around the bins this time of day.”
Hamish wasn’t normally one to waste food, but he figured he should keep his mouth shut on his first day. With the help of Reginald, he picked up the container of stale loaves, taking care to bend at the knees, and carried it to the alleyway behind the bakery. Reginald carried his side of the tray unnecessarily high, so that his enormous biceps bulged and the bread nearly toppled out.
As they walked, Hamish’s Vans stuck to the pavement, which was coated in a thin film of accumulated bin juice. The monotonous shriek of an ibis sounded in the distance. They spied the dumpster in the darkest, most decrepit corner of the alley, the suffocating stench of mouldy bread engulfing them as they approached. Together, they set down the tray, reluctant to open the dumpster lid and intensify the smell further.
Just as Hamish reached up to pry open the lid a sound startled him. He froze. It was the sound of a young man singing. The voice sounded so close it could only have emanated from within the dumpster itself. As the song continued, Hamish could even make out the lyrics. The singer simply repeated the phrase “Halfwaaaaay hooouse” for what seemed like an eternity.
A single tear rolled down the boys’ collective cheeks. “That is the most beautiful voice I have ever heard”, said Reginald in solemn reverence.
Soon the boys’ curiosity overcame them and together, they flung open the lid. Hamish released an ear-piercing scream and Reginald gasped in horror. They could not un-see what was before them. A young man, who could have been at least fifty percent Japanese, lay naked, shrouded in a cocoon of bread, swimming backstroke through a sea of yesterday’s discarded loaves.
He had an unruly moustache and his eyes wore a thousand-yard stare, seeming to suggest that he was completely consumed by the overwhelming beauty of his own voice. In the moment that the three boys’ eyes met, the atmosphere around them suddenly erupted with musical potential. This musicality provided a catalyst which transformed the bread and bin juice festering at the bottom of the dumpster into a carbohydrate-based form of artificial intelligence, which tethered the consciousness of the three boys together into a hive mind, transporting them to a higher plane of existence where they were able to perceive the past and the future simultaneously in the form of musical notation.
As they explored their new, shared consciousness in the 16th dimension, Bread Club were able to discern the sound made by quantum particles vibrating within the universe’s carbohydrate substructure. Soon they could comprehend the true meaning of life itself and decided to musically encode it into their newly released hit single Convoluted.
It is rumoured that if Bread Club’s one true fan listens to Convoluted in reverse, they can just make out the dull hum of the fan that cools the computer that runs the simulation that is life. Could you be Bread Club’s one true fan? Find out by listening here:
