Money For Rope‘s third album ‘Picture Us‘ is entirely self produced, mixed and mastered. A record brimming with energetic garage, surf rock, soul and psych.

Spawned from the same fertile Melbourne music scene which has fostered Courtney Barnett but also other friends including King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard and Rolling Coastal Blackouts Fever, Money For Rope are releasing ‘Picture Us’ off the back of a dogged touring habit which has kept them on the road near constantly for the last four years. Entirely self-produced, mixed & mastered by the five piece – comprised of Jules McKenzie (guitars, vocals), Rick Parnaby (keyboards), Erik Scerba (drums), Chris Loftis (drums), Ted Dempsey (bass) – ‘Picture Us’ was recorded over the course of a single summer in Victoria, Australia on the coastline of the Southern Ocean.

The volatility of this stretch of sea – fused with the careering urgency of Money For Rope live shows, powered by a pummelling rhythm section including two drummers – bears out on ‘Picture Us’, whose pace seldom eases across its lean 30 minute span. The insouciant, surf rock of blistered lead single ‘Actually’ came together whilst the band were on tour in the dog days of a Berlin heatwave, whilst early advance track ‘Earl Grey’ arrived via a video which ratchets the single’s air of menace with a blend of overhead & underwater footage in which the band play their guitars in the surf off Sorrento Beach in Victoria. Speaking about this kind of interplay, frontman Jules says; “We wanted guitars to be keyboards, keyboards to be saturation, and drums to be folded over into themselves like tape worn away, like rocks eroded by the relentless southerlies blowing the ocean onto the land.”

Whilst everything Money For Rope does is buoyed by a freewheeling ‘Why not?’ attitude – including a mini tour across India, and McKenzie honouring various live commitments following a motorbike crash by performing from a wheelchair – don’t be fooled by that derisive band name. ‘Picture Us’ thrums with the promise of one of Australia’s most hard-working and charismatic new bands.


“Reckless, untamed, rough and ragged, wildly free… it’s a thrilling listen.” The Line of Best Fit

“Melbourne has produced some great music of late and psychedelic punks Money For Rope are no exception… [Picture Us] encapsulates numerous genres and styles throughout its ten pieces.” Drowned In Sound


16th May Cafe Galao Stuttgart DE
17th May Club Stereo Nurnberg DE
18th May Manic Str. Parade Munchen DE
20th May John Montagu Innsbruck AT
23rd May Boston Music Room London UK
24th May Dot to Dot Fest Manchester UK
25th May Dot to Dot Fest Bristol UK
26th May Dot to Dot Fest Nottingham UK
28th May Ziegal Oh Laco Zurich CH

29th May Coq D’or Olten CH
30th May Grabenhalle St. Gallen CH
1st June Way Back When Dortmund DE Tickets
3rd June Tsunami ClubKoln DE Tickets
4th June Monarch Berlin DE Tickets
6th June Molotow Hamburg DE Tickets
7th June Ostpol Dresden DE Tickets
8th June Obs Beverungen DE Sold Out!



When we first started talking about the next Money For Rope record, we were staying at a friends’ studio that was under construction in Seven Sisters in the north of London, and walking every day along the canal, talking about life, talking about music. We were a long way from home and unsure when we’d be back; we’d lost band members while we were away. We would joke about how we wanted our band to make music that felt like crawling back into the womb, being held, that everyone wanted to be held like they were when they were a child. When we arrived back home, we didn’t tell anyone we had returned. We went to a family property out of town, beside the ocean, and made this record. The house became involved. And the songs were written with reverence for that landscape; Port Philip Bay, and the Southern Ocean. We wanted guitars to be keyboards, keyboards to be saturation, and drums to be folded over into themselves like tape worn away, like rocks eroding by the relentless southerlies blowing the ocean onto the land. Hold has a percussion track, made by an old box of sailing boat parts, being shaken, warbling through an old tape machine. Being in a band sometimes means you are hoping, and holding on.

This was the first track written for this record. We started it staying in a small Air BnB flat in Berlin owned by someone who worked for a music products company; there was an upright piano in a beautiful first floor apartment in an old building. We could spend our evenings in the middle of a hot summer heat wave playing battery amps and piano with the windows wide open listening to the sounds of Kruezberg below. We would wander around the city late at night, wondering how we became fortunate enough to be here, when the secret to ourselves was, just that we had always wanted to.

In some way I feel like every song that has been written is a love song. Music often falls to the expression of yearning, loss, pain; it’s just sometimes easier to write for the negative; as the positives come out in other ways, without being coaxed. And the songs of loss and fear would not exist had there not also have been love. I had fallen in love with a friend; she gave me a t-shirt. It was too small; she fixed it. We never ended up together, and we still love each other. We started recording this song when we arrived at the beach, because sometimes the fun things are best tackled first.

When i was young I lived in a townhouse owned by my partner’s family, which afforded us cheap rent in a nice location. The house was old and the wind used to come through the skirting boards, and the heater blowing would work all evening to keep us warm. We could hear the neighbours in the adjoining house walking up and down their hallway, you could tell where they were standing as the old floorboards each had a different creak. I was trying to re-learn French and fancied disappearing to work as a garçon or live in the alps. I loved that house; it was home for many years, but i always felt like an outsider, looking in, on someone else’s home, in someone else’s street; in a suburb where i did not belong. I started writing this song there; and i finished it, on the last day we were making this record; some ten years later.

The best thing about being in a band is being surrounded by your friends; your band becomes your family. You eat together, you work together, you live together. This song always makes me think of walking down the canals from the Seven Sisters to Stratford, we would all walk at the same pace, picking blackberries off the side of the pathway, talking about art, music, and how one day we’d be recording these songs. It’s almost the opposite side of the world, where we turned the master bedroom into a control room; and there were no neighbours to upset, because they are beach houses, and on the other side of the world, the ocean is cold in October.

I have always had a problem retaining information when i read fiction. I have had many people encourage me, including a partner who gave me a copy of the Richard Brautigan novel, Trout fishing in America. “It’s short, you can start there.” We used to spend days drinking cup of tea, after cup of tea. I still don’t retain information when i read fiction. Out the back of the house where we recorded this album, in what is a town that is only busy over the four weeks holiday of summer, is the roaring Bass Strait. We would sit and watch the ocean sometimes, seeing great swathes of seaweed being tossed around effortlessly by the Southern Ocean, and I would think about drinking all those cups of tea, and what a long time ago and how far away that was. They say the sea will rise 7 meters if the arctic ice cap melts. The house may not disappear under the ocean; but the tides will certainly take it away

There is evidence of aboriginal middens on the coast out the back of the house. Places where people congregated and these collections of shells are what is left as indication that this beach was home for many generations before us. We lived off fish we caught while we were making these songs, and when we did not catch fish on a line, we got into the water to find them. Commercial fishing was terminated in the bay around the time this record was made; perhaps that will help fish sustainability in the area, perhaps it will not. Several times a day huge container ships would navigate the treacherous ‘Rip’, cross paths, enter or disappear off to deep water and out of sight; carrying goods, carrying people, carrying fuels, a constant trade. In the 50’s my mother used to come down to this coast as a child and camp among the moonah trees on the foreshore. She says there used to be seagrass running all the way along the shallow sand flats.

On the Mediterranean there is a town called Alicante where it is claimed it is home to the world’s best horchata. Rising out of the ocean is a mountain that housed an ancient lookout and city walls, from where the whole town and beach can be supervised. We drifted out on the water, floating, staring up at the sun until the whole mountain came to perspective; the water is safe, there are no sharks, there is no undertow; you can float, and watch the town, and the palm trees simmering in the breeze, and always come home, to the finest horchata in the world.

When I was young and left home alone along with my brother, I was surprised by my parents, who had returned home from holidays early; possibly as an act of deserving untrustworthiness. I was rapidly cleaning up from a party, and wearing what was, unaware to me, dad’s best suit. It seems that when you are young you long to be older, and I wonder if when i am older, i will long to be young again. I wonder if there is a point in the middle where it crosses, and how i will feel about love. We recorded this through walkie-talkies we had as kids, where there was a ledger above a large orange button that gave the alphabet in morse code.

This house was built in the 60’s from asbestos fibre boards, with wallpapered plywood walls; the bannister railings are eroded with rust like they’re stalactites, from the constant swirling salt air. The lady who owned it previously had children who all moved on, her late partner’s tools are still in collection underneath the shed. I wonder whether this house will ever see children of my own, one day. But that is a problem for the future, because tonight, we are all cooking together.



Earl Grey


Look Until You Die


Ten Times


Easy Way Out


Nova Pilota


Misery Lane