In 2016 one Melbourne band went from fledgling to full throttle.
Camp Cope released their self-titled debut album in April and the album's wrenching defiance and cathartic compassion has accumulated accolades: six vinyl pressings and counting, The Age Music Victoria award for Best Emerging Act, a national slot on the Laneway Festival, and now it is shortlisted for the Australian Music Prize.
![Camp Cope's growing profile has allowed them to stress their personal beliefs.](/web/20170216201357im_/http://www.smh.com.au/content/dam/images/g/u/c/b/k/v/image.related.articleLeadwide.620x349.gucbq7.png/1487212969434.jpg)
The latest benchmark? Music industry cowboys dangling exploitative deals in front of the band, much to Camp Cope's bemusement.
"We've received so many unsolicited contracts, where people think we'll sign away our rights," says Sarah Thompson, Camp Cope's drummer. "They try and talk you through it: 'I know you've been going fine as you are and you've done a great job, but' – and there's always a but – 'I'm here to show you how I should take 15 per cent of that'. We're just like, 'we're not stupid, we know how this works'."
Thompson, like her bandmates Kelly-Dawn Hellmrich (bass) and Georgia McDonald (vocals/guitar), comes from a music lineage grounded in punk rock. Camp Cope is a self-sufficient outfit, managing themselves and booking their own shows, while Thompson also works for the band's independent label, the small but vital Poison City Records.
"We all came from very punk backgrounds where no one tells you what to do, and no one is allowed to mess with what you do, and you don't have to ask anyone if we can do something we want to do," Thompson says. "Outside our community, people seem shocked that we work that way."
As their profile has grown Camp Cope have stressed their personal beliefs instead of shuffling them to one side. Last September they launched It Takes One, a campaign against sexual and physical assault at live music performances that recruited numerous other acts, and they are forthright in condemning misogyny and racism.
"With a lot of the things we've done, such as It Takes One, people are watching you very closely afterwards, waiting for you to f--- up. That was something we believe in and want to happen, but there are a lot of people who think we do it for other reasons, so they're quick to jump on you if you trip up in any way."
The band's new single, Keep Growing, sounds like a summation of their changing circumstances and an affirmation of the trio's unity. "I'll still try to stand tall, no that's not me in the back row anymore," sings McDonald, the band's principal songwriter, whose voice holds notes with a raw, tender conviction.
"Georgia doesn't edit ever. She's like that when you talk to her and she's like that in songs," Thompson says. "She doesn't try to write honest songs, but that's what she would say to you so that's what she would write."
It was McDonald in 2015 who spied a drum kit in Thompson's living room that had just come out of storage and insisted her friend start playing with her. The subsequent dynamic is strong but idiosyncratic: Hellmrich plays bass like a guitarist, and wears an earplug during gigs to block out Thompson's drumming, while the 22-year-old McDonald and 24-year-old Hellmrich are sometimes baffled by the 32-year-old Thompson's cultural references.
But they reflexively draw together and speak up as one. When McDonald developed throat nodules last May because of an overstressed voice, Camp Cope quickly cut down on their touring even as demand was growing.
"It was very apparent that everyone in the band's physical and mental health was more important than playing shows and stuff," Thompson says. "We don't answer to anyone else and we don't have a timeline."
Camp Cope play the National Gallery of Victoria at 3pm on Sunday, February 26; Sydney's Newton Social Club on March 3; and Golden Plains in the Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre on March 11.