In the seven years since I left Ewan where I first found him, floundering in the derelict and abandoned warehouses of old industrial Melbourne scavenging for scrap metal, life has taken its fair share of interesting turns for the both of us. I caught up with Ewan at the recent launch party for his website, and spoke to him about life, doing time, and the wonders of the modern age.Chris: When I last saw you you had just been arrested for stealing copper wiring at the Spotswood train station. The entire Williamstown line was shut down for a week, and in the end they closed down the line entirely. Many working class commuters blamed you for this, but you were always adamant that it was part of a larger attack on workers by Canberra, despite the fact that public transport is a state government issue. Looking back, is there anything you would have done differently?
Ewan: Absolutely not. Doing time was the best thing that ever happened to me. Before I was busted I had been living a hedonistic lifestyle of scrap metal crime and twenty-four hour partying. I got caught up with the wrong crowd, started pocketing a few street signs here and there, melting them down into homemade saucepans and whatnot, the usual deal, and before I knew it I was stripping bare entire systems of public transport infrastructure. We even had plans to tear up the train tracks and turn them into beer kegs, but luckily we were put away before that happened.
It’s the same old story everyone’s heard a million times: a young kid gets involved with a bit of ‘sign-snatching’ on the side – a classic gateway crime – next thing you know he’s melting down copper in a homemade metalworks in his backyard.
C: Of course imprisonment wasn’t the end of the story. The tales of your escape are well known, but it was probably your returning to the prison, under cover of night, to remove the limestone and flint off the perimeter wall to make a series of stone-brick Fitzroy terraces that has been rendered your most memorable coup d’état. How was it that you eventually put this life of thuggary and raw materials rendition behind you?
E: In a word, the Internet. That shit changed my perspective completely. And that sort of brings us to where we are now. During my stint on the inside I enrolled in a prisoner education program aimed at equipping hardened crims with skills to help them re-enter society with economic self-sufficiency. I took a course in midi music transcription, and the whole thing took off like you wouldn’t believe. We’d put on concerts, for the other inmates, and I had the whole place stomping to my Celine Dion/China Phillips midi-mash ups. Boy, those were some wild times. Caked-up to our eyeballs on meth, rocking out to my midi banjo and flute melodies.
After I got out, I thought, well look, it’s either back to raw materials racketeering or trying to make something out of this midi thing. The year was 1999, and thank god this little thing known as the Information Super Highway was just starting to take off. After securing a few heavy investments and a lucrative government business grant, I finally got my baby up and running, and it looks like the only way is up!
C: Your site certainly holds its own in terms of midi content, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? How did you get it to look so good? That dancing boot animation, for one thing, is amazing. It’s so visceral.
E: We had some help from the guys at Industrial Light & Magic, and a few of my cordwainer pals from ANU helped me with the design of the boots. So I can’t take credit for the whole thing; it’s a team effort.
As the interview wrapped I couldn’t help but realise that, like it or not, this lovable rouge had actually come good and was finally putting back into the society that he had once taken so much from. And as this Internet bubble shows no sign of popping, Ewan’s deposit may eventually outnumber his withdrawals. Good job, Ewan, and keep on midi-in’!
