Twin Haus Profile Piece
When the tiny car rockets down the driveway, hooks an impossibly sharp turn, and comes to a perfect stop, it becomes clear that Dan Grima knows a thing or two about first impressions.
Almost completely hidden by stacks of musical equipment, he clambers from the back seat, apologising for a late arrival. When he speaks, it’s in a perpetually relaxed manner; a deep Australian baritone peppered with hints of a Lebanese upbringing. A quiet confidence is immediately noticeable, the type needed to perform on stage. It often makes him seem larger than he really is.
The car is parked in front of Worx Studios, a recording and practice facility deeply treasured by members of Brisbane’s independent music scene. Its location could be considered a cheeky bit of rock and roll rebellion. Nestled underneath two stories of office blocks, and sharing a driveway with a construction yard, it’s as if a piece of West-End counterculture snuck in to cause a bit of trouble.
Behind Grima are two other members of his band Twin Haus, the psychedelic rock quartet in which he’s the vocalist, lyricist and rhythm guitarist. Lead guitarist Zachary Degnan and drummer Nick McMillan offer quiet hellos before lugging heavy cases into their practice space.
The room they enter is tiny to begin with but the addition of amplifiers, guitars, and effects pedals makes for an even tighter squeeze. The walls are adorned with paintings and graffiti, far removed from the cold cleanliness of ‘professional’ studios. As he unpacks his gear, Grima mentions the room is practically spacious when compared to Twin Haus’s inception, where the band rehearsed out of a storage unit. “We started in a Kennard’s, man,” he says with a grin.
No stranger to the world of performance, Grima was first introduced to music at the age of seven when his father acquainted him with the trumpet. “I dabbled,” he says, “I wasn’t very good. I used to play in the Royal Australian Air Force band with my dad and brother”.
Not long afterwards, Grima’s brother quit the trumpet and made the switch to the drum kit. “When he started playing the drums, I started playing guitar to jam. And then he quit altogether and I end up using his kit now. It worked out good for me,” he laughs.
Those early jam sessions would prove to be a cornerstone for what was to follow. A strong belief in the value of improvisation and collaboration permeates much of Twin Haus’s output. “It’s that benefit of having other people’s input and thoughts,” Grima says, “The only time we’ve ever scrapped songs is when just one of us has written an entire song. We have to jam it out together.”
This love of collaboration extends beyond Twin Haus. Grima is also a trumpeter in fellow Brisbane alt-rock band Boss Moxi and one-half of electronic duo Yokai Moth. It allows some reprieve from the spotlight, letting him focus on creating music without the pressures of being the public face of a band.
Twin Haus’s transformation from high school guitar noodlers into confident, assured performers has been staggering. What makes this transition so impressive is the relatively short amount of time in which they’ve been together as a group.
Their first live gig was little over a year ago, a performance that Grima describes as nerve shredding. In music, modesty is a virtue and it’s vital to be wary of the dangers of a swollen ego. Attitudes can sour quickly, and become venomous, leading to changes in perception. It’s a learning curve, one that can lead to a deathblow for bands.
The key, he says, is to surround himself with integral people, the ones who’ll notice it right away.
“Having good people around you, you can draw influences from, not only in music but who you are as a person and how you deal with the industry”.
The lure of radio play on stations such as Triple J can also be troublesome, as can the impulse to change one’s sound to be more radio friendly. Grima isn’t averse to the idea of radio but warns, “if you’ve strayed enough to be completely obsessed, then you’ve distorted your thought processes. If you do it the proper way, they’ll jump on regardless”.
He’s also humble about his talents as a vocalist. “It’s one of those things you have to find a balance with,” he says, “I kind of rely on the fact that if you’re passionate enough about (singing), and involve yourself in the music enough, people don’t mind if you hit the wrong notes.”
The uninhibited style when performing also seeps into his approach to recording music. The band is in the midst of a gruelling process to release and promote their debut EP. Venturing into rural NSW to write and record, in a deliberate attempt to distance themselves from professional studio sheen. Grima is quick to reject the idea that this results in an inferior sound.
“To me, DIY sounds like ‘unprofessionally done’. We recorded in a wine cellar and Tim, who recorded our EP, had done similar things before. He actually suggested we record in a house to keep the live and raw kind of feel.”
During their first forays into Brisbane’s music scene, Twin Haus were brought in and nurtured by Duncan Cambell, director of Indooroopilly based label Bedlam Records. The label handles nearly all aspects of Twin Haus’s production, including concert promotion and music distribution.
“I met them last year sometime, through Dan,” Cambell says. He and Grima were a natural fit, both sharing similar views on the future of the music industry. Less sceptical than Grima on the importance of established outlets like Triple J, Cambell nevertheless believes the old methods of distributing music don’t have long to last. “FM Radio has ten years, max. It’s a whole different ball game right now, and it can only be a good thing for new artists coming on to the scene.”
Cambell is also optimistic about the future of the band he helped support. “Based on what I’ve seen so far, it’s impossible to see these doing anything other than Twin Haus,” he says. Currently in the midst of promoting the band’s EP launch and subsequent east coast tour, Cambell expects to see Grima become even more involved with the other, less artistic aspects of the industry as the band’s profile grows.
“These guys are switched on, they’re on the ball. It’s absolutely going to become a business for them, especially with this upcoming tour.”
As their practice session begins, the door to the room creaks open and a mass of dark hair pokes through sheepishly. Iti Memon, Twin Haus’s bass player, who has arrived later than expected, and is standing resplendent in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He exhibits the same casual cool as Grima, but keeps to himself, speaking with a low British accent. When I ask how they met, they playfully disagree about how they crossed paths.
To see Twin Haus rehearse is to see diplomacy in action. When the four are together, they speak in a maddening code, full of swearing and musical terminology. Picks go missing, strings are described as lacking in ‘brilliance’, the type of linguistic shorthand that only exists amongst close friends.
Arguments and compromises are made; a verse is too long, a bass-line too complex, drum fills aren’t ‘spacey’ enough. At times Grima attempts to steer the band in a particular direction, only to be met with a comment from the quietly funny Memon or a raised eyebrow from McMillan.
But when the band actually plays, the effect is that of cohesion and unity. The music swells, rising and falling, growing too large for the tiny room struggling to contain it. Amongst the walloping drums and roaring guitars is Dan Grima’s voice, the centre of the storm. It ebbs and flows from song to song, from tender falsetto to ragged howl. It’s the final, necessary instrument. Never forced, never faked, always genuine.
