Five Minutes with Chris Endrey of Fun Machine
1. Growing Up
On any given day Mum’d be belting out some Elton John or Les Mis at the top of her lungs. I was and am heroine-addicted to Disney (saw The Little Mermaid five times at the movies). Dad’s always played vintage guitars and has a very healthy collection of rock records. He still sends me stuff. Like many people, I had piano lessons growing up but wasn’t too engaged and dropped it. I didn’t really get into creating until after undergrad when I was 21 – I finally saw how it was all play instead of work. When I got to that stage I became happy trying any instrument.
The White Stripes. Far out, their comfort in taking risks and the real energy they have comes through everything they do. For the same reason, I listen to a lot of hip hop. I’ve spent some time crying to the passion of ’60s soul music. But really, anyone you can just put on and hear that they really mean what they’re singing and playing. That’s beauty.
3. Your Band
Fun Machine is four people connected by the idea that we are free to do what we want and pursue our ideas to the death. This takes a lot of trust and confidence in each other, which manifests most obviously in live shows where we’ll mix anything around to keep ourselves – and hopefully crowds – enjoying it.
We all have different musical tastes and playing styles, which leads to a unique mix of ideas and songwriting when we work together. This question is probably best answered in hearing our songs or coming to our shows, which I genuinely recommend doing.
4. The Music You Make
For some reason, even after years of playing, this question doesn’t get any easier. Pop I guess. Punk attitude and ideas without the matching aesthetic.
We have a childish wonder at the world with an adult’s discontent with many things, all wrapped in a leadership confidence to thrust through it and celebrate the joy. That’s why, when asked, we often say we make sex-pop, I think.
5. Music, Right Here, Right Now
Music is tricky. Like most of the arts, it can be really dispiriting wading through works to find the diamonds that resonate. Particularly with real pressures on musicians to get on a social trend or make stuff that sells. There’s a dangerous amount of work where people are projecting themselves rather than ideas, which can be very ugly indeed.
But oh, those diamonds. Those real connections are such inspiration that no matter the limitations, we never really stop loving it all, do we?