Post by Inside Australian Idol on Feb 13, 2005 23:51:10 GMT 10
Just a suburban boy
February 13, 2005
Joel Turner is only 17 yet he's already had a No. 1 record. But, he tells Guy Blackman, had he not stumbled upon beatboxing his life could have been so very different.
All through October, November and December it happened. An independently released Australian hip-hop single, written by a beatboxing 17-year-old from suburban Brisbane and his MC brother, debuted in the top five of the Australian singles charts and refused to budge.
As Australian Idol flashes-in-the-pan came and went - Guy Sebastian's Out With My Baby, Paulini's Angel Eyes and Cosima de Vito's When The War Is Over - These Kids by Joel Turner and the Modern Day Poets (who also got their start via Idol) held firm and outlasted them all. Even big international hits from Eminem, Destiny's Child, Gwen Stefani and Britney Spears couldn't match the staying power of These Kids, as week by week the song inched up the charts. On November 8 it reached an impressive enough peak, hitting the number two position then dropping back a couple of spots. But then on November 29, after nearly two months on the charts, These Kids became the number one song in the country.
"You've got to be happy with that," beams Joel Turner excitedly. "I can't ask for anything more, man. It's our first single!"
Only the arrival of the inevitable end-of-year debuts from 2004's Idol final two Casey Donovan and Anthony Callea were able to knock Turner from the top spot. Even now, with Donovan's Listen With Your Heart already a fading memory, These Kids remains nestled just outside the Top 10, and shows no sign of bowing out for some time to come.
So to what does Turner attribute the remarkable success of his first single? "Maybe just because it's a real song," he says simply. "It talks about real-life issues, things that people have suffered."
These Kids does have hard-hitting lyrics that address an issue very close to home for Turner - namely the cycle of addiction, violence and suicide faced by many young kids living on the streets. The feedback forum on his website contains a number of testimonials from young people whose lives have been affected by similar problems, for whom the song has been something of a saving grace. "I have lost a lot of people in my life," reads a typical email from a 14-yearold girl named Hayley M. "And I just couldn't cope with it. And I thought the only way I could get over it would be to kill myself. I decided that I would put a rope around my neck and jump, but when I was about to jump, I heard your song. I am now going to therapy, and I am doing a lot better. I just want to say thank you so much. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here today."
He ain't heavy he's my brother And my cousin Joel Turner and the Modern Poets adopt obligatory tough-guys-in-the hood pose
For Turner, these kinds of statements echo his own experiences growing up in Acacia Ridge, a poor suburb in Brisbane's disadvantaged south. "It's not the best, man," he says of his neighbourhood. "You've got kids who are like 14, 15 drinking in the park. You've got kids smoking up around the place. It's not the worst suburb in the world, but just the fact that it doesn't get a lot of money going through it. And it's a small suburb; everyone knows each other and each other's business."
Turner is one of five children, four boys and a girl, to mother Grace, who struggles to support her family on a single-parent pension. "She's a strong woman, she's been through a lot," he says. "If she wrote a biography, I'm telling you, mate, it would be very interesting. She was an ex-hippie, she's done some stuff years ago, not bad stuff or anything, but she's got herself together. She brought up five kids by herself."
Turner only met his father once, when he was two. "I've got one photo of him, which is me at two years old sitting on his lap. Before I was born he flew off to Adelaide, and I only saw him once for about a month, and that was it."
Five years ago, his dad succumbed to his own battle with addiction. "My dad died of a heroin overdose when I was in year seven. That's the whole reason I wanted to get into the music industry. It's not for myself, but just for my dad, so he can be proud about something. 'Cause he was a guitarist, I found out. My mum told me he played in a band called Head Band in Adelaide for a while. My mum said that listening to him play, he was really, really good."
The two things that have kept Turner from following the same path as his father, and many of his friends from Acacia Ridge, have been his music and his faith. "I've always grown up thanking God for what I had, even though I didn't have much," he says. "I've always been happy for what I've got. And I suppose I always thank God, too, for giving me a musical gift, 'cause if I didn't have music, I'd be on the streets. I'd just be doing what a lot of other kids in my neighbourhood are doing."
Turner discovered beatboxing, perhaps the least well known of the five central elements of hip-hop (which also include rapping, breakdancing, DJ-ing and graffiti), almost by accident. "When I started beatboxing it came along naturally," he recalls. "I didn't know it was beatboxing. I've always just done it. I started playing drums when I was seven, and before I could even play a beat on the drums I could do it with my teeth, in my head. I knew what rhythms I wanted, it was just a matter of getting them out there. So when I was about eight I could play a simple four/four beat on the drum kit, but 'cause I didn't have one at home, I had to practice wherever I went, like on the bus I'd just grind my teeth together. And then a mate told me about three years ago that it was beatboxing. So I started getting into it."
With older brother Tim and cousin Chris, Turner formed a hip-hop group called The Modern Poets, and together they wrote songs and performed occasionally at school, never thinking much would come of it.
Auditioning for the first series of Australian Idol was a lark. "I just went for fun," Turner says. "We weren't even going to go, but my brother woke me up at five in the morning, he was like, 'Do you wanna go?' and I'm like, 'Oh, all right'. 'Cause we didn't know what it was back then, all we had seen was that little ad saying 'Australian Idol, get here this date'. So we rocked up and didn't expect to get in of course, 'cause we're not singers, we're rappers."
Although they only made it as far as the first audition, the Modern Day Poets caught the eye of Idol judge Mark Holden, who took them under his wing and eventually signed them to his Dream Dealers label.
"I had other people interested at the time, but I suppose I went with Mark because he was the first," says Turner. "The good thing about Mark is that he takes action, he doesn't just tell you one thing and do another. He said to us, 'I'll sign you', and within that month we were already starting to see a lawyer. I looked at his deal and I looked at the others and I was just like, 'I'll go with Mark'."
And the rest is recent history. Turner's album didn't fare quite as well as These Kids, peaking at 28, and the newly released single Knock U Out (featuring the dubious lyrical flow of boxer Anthony Mundine) has none of the emotional impact of is predecessor, but still, Turner's lasting chart impact makes his career look rosier than those of many of his Idol colleagues.
One unexpected side-effect of his new fame is attention from a scandal-driven media. At the height of Idol 2 mania last year, some magazines went so far as to invent a romantic link between Turner and series winner Casey Donovan. "What teed me off was they superimposed two pictures together to make it looked like we were standing next to each other," Turner says. "All that happened was I talked to Casey once or twice around the Idol set, and at the ARIAs, and they went and made a big thing about it. At the end of the day, you've just got to put it behind you and have a laugh about it, otherwise you'll just drive yourself nuts."
Turner turns 18 in March, and is ready to celebrate in style. "I want to have a party in Brisbane and a party in Sydney, for all my Sydney friends," he says. "I've never really had a decent, cracking party, so for once I'm going to."
But he promises not to drink too much at his 18th. "I'll keep it smart, you know, 'cause I gotta look after my voice. If I drink too much, I'll eventually wreck my vocal chords, which cannot happen."
Joel Turner and the Modern Day Poets play the Melbourne International Music Festival on February 25 at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl. Tel: 136 100
www.theage.com.au/news/Music/Just-a-suburban-boy/2005/02/13/1108061929996.html
February 13, 2005
Joel Turner is only 17 yet he's already had a No. 1 record. But, he tells Guy Blackman, had he not stumbled upon beatboxing his life could have been so very different.
All through October, November and December it happened. An independently released Australian hip-hop single, written by a beatboxing 17-year-old from suburban Brisbane and his MC brother, debuted in the top five of the Australian singles charts and refused to budge.
As Australian Idol flashes-in-the-pan came and went - Guy Sebastian's Out With My Baby, Paulini's Angel Eyes and Cosima de Vito's When The War Is Over - These Kids by Joel Turner and the Modern Day Poets (who also got their start via Idol) held firm and outlasted them all. Even big international hits from Eminem, Destiny's Child, Gwen Stefani and Britney Spears couldn't match the staying power of These Kids, as week by week the song inched up the charts. On November 8 it reached an impressive enough peak, hitting the number two position then dropping back a couple of spots. But then on November 29, after nearly two months on the charts, These Kids became the number one song in the country.
"You've got to be happy with that," beams Joel Turner excitedly. "I can't ask for anything more, man. It's our first single!"
Only the arrival of the inevitable end-of-year debuts from 2004's Idol final two Casey Donovan and Anthony Callea were able to knock Turner from the top spot. Even now, with Donovan's Listen With Your Heart already a fading memory, These Kids remains nestled just outside the Top 10, and shows no sign of bowing out for some time to come.
So to what does Turner attribute the remarkable success of his first single? "Maybe just because it's a real song," he says simply. "It talks about real-life issues, things that people have suffered."
These Kids does have hard-hitting lyrics that address an issue very close to home for Turner - namely the cycle of addiction, violence and suicide faced by many young kids living on the streets. The feedback forum on his website contains a number of testimonials from young people whose lives have been affected by similar problems, for whom the song has been something of a saving grace. "I have lost a lot of people in my life," reads a typical email from a 14-yearold girl named Hayley M. "And I just couldn't cope with it. And I thought the only way I could get over it would be to kill myself. I decided that I would put a rope around my neck and jump, but when I was about to jump, I heard your song. I am now going to therapy, and I am doing a lot better. I just want to say thank you so much. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here today."
He ain't heavy he's my brother And my cousin Joel Turner and the Modern Poets adopt obligatory tough-guys-in-the hood pose
For Turner, these kinds of statements echo his own experiences growing up in Acacia Ridge, a poor suburb in Brisbane's disadvantaged south. "It's not the best, man," he says of his neighbourhood. "You've got kids who are like 14, 15 drinking in the park. You've got kids smoking up around the place. It's not the worst suburb in the world, but just the fact that it doesn't get a lot of money going through it. And it's a small suburb; everyone knows each other and each other's business."
Turner is one of five children, four boys and a girl, to mother Grace, who struggles to support her family on a single-parent pension. "She's a strong woman, she's been through a lot," he says. "If she wrote a biography, I'm telling you, mate, it would be very interesting. She was an ex-hippie, she's done some stuff years ago, not bad stuff or anything, but she's got herself together. She brought up five kids by herself."
Turner only met his father once, when he was two. "I've got one photo of him, which is me at two years old sitting on his lap. Before I was born he flew off to Adelaide, and I only saw him once for about a month, and that was it."
Five years ago, his dad succumbed to his own battle with addiction. "My dad died of a heroin overdose when I was in year seven. That's the whole reason I wanted to get into the music industry. It's not for myself, but just for my dad, so he can be proud about something. 'Cause he was a guitarist, I found out. My mum told me he played in a band called Head Band in Adelaide for a while. My mum said that listening to him play, he was really, really good."
The two things that have kept Turner from following the same path as his father, and many of his friends from Acacia Ridge, have been his music and his faith. "I've always grown up thanking God for what I had, even though I didn't have much," he says. "I've always been happy for what I've got. And I suppose I always thank God, too, for giving me a musical gift, 'cause if I didn't have music, I'd be on the streets. I'd just be doing what a lot of other kids in my neighbourhood are doing."
Turner discovered beatboxing, perhaps the least well known of the five central elements of hip-hop (which also include rapping, breakdancing, DJ-ing and graffiti), almost by accident. "When I started beatboxing it came along naturally," he recalls. "I didn't know it was beatboxing. I've always just done it. I started playing drums when I was seven, and before I could even play a beat on the drums I could do it with my teeth, in my head. I knew what rhythms I wanted, it was just a matter of getting them out there. So when I was about eight I could play a simple four/four beat on the drum kit, but 'cause I didn't have one at home, I had to practice wherever I went, like on the bus I'd just grind my teeth together. And then a mate told me about three years ago that it was beatboxing. So I started getting into it."
With older brother Tim and cousin Chris, Turner formed a hip-hop group called The Modern Poets, and together they wrote songs and performed occasionally at school, never thinking much would come of it.
Auditioning for the first series of Australian Idol was a lark. "I just went for fun," Turner says. "We weren't even going to go, but my brother woke me up at five in the morning, he was like, 'Do you wanna go?' and I'm like, 'Oh, all right'. 'Cause we didn't know what it was back then, all we had seen was that little ad saying 'Australian Idol, get here this date'. So we rocked up and didn't expect to get in of course, 'cause we're not singers, we're rappers."
Although they only made it as far as the first audition, the Modern Day Poets caught the eye of Idol judge Mark Holden, who took them under his wing and eventually signed them to his Dream Dealers label.
"I had other people interested at the time, but I suppose I went with Mark because he was the first," says Turner. "The good thing about Mark is that he takes action, he doesn't just tell you one thing and do another. He said to us, 'I'll sign you', and within that month we were already starting to see a lawyer. I looked at his deal and I looked at the others and I was just like, 'I'll go with Mark'."
And the rest is recent history. Turner's album didn't fare quite as well as These Kids, peaking at 28, and the newly released single Knock U Out (featuring the dubious lyrical flow of boxer Anthony Mundine) has none of the emotional impact of is predecessor, but still, Turner's lasting chart impact makes his career look rosier than those of many of his Idol colleagues.
One unexpected side-effect of his new fame is attention from a scandal-driven media. At the height of Idol 2 mania last year, some magazines went so far as to invent a romantic link between Turner and series winner Casey Donovan. "What teed me off was they superimposed two pictures together to make it looked like we were standing next to each other," Turner says. "All that happened was I talked to Casey once or twice around the Idol set, and at the ARIAs, and they went and made a big thing about it. At the end of the day, you've just got to put it behind you and have a laugh about it, otherwise you'll just drive yourself nuts."
Turner turns 18 in March, and is ready to celebrate in style. "I want to have a party in Brisbane and a party in Sydney, for all my Sydney friends," he says. "I've never really had a decent, cracking party, so for once I'm going to."
But he promises not to drink too much at his 18th. "I'll keep it smart, you know, 'cause I gotta look after my voice. If I drink too much, I'll eventually wreck my vocal chords, which cannot happen."
Joel Turner and the Modern Day Poets play the Melbourne International Music Festival on February 25 at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl. Tel: 136 100
www.theage.com.au/news/Music/Just-a-suburban-boy/2005/02/13/1108061929996.html
