Azure Ordinance

Blue Tongue

Deflated And Let Down

Delirium Odds

Freedom Rocket

Itch Machine

Queen Of The Big Screen

Never Going To Use It

Stoner Rocket was once your typical Tauranga musician that also happens to be a rocket. Staid, prosaic, pretentious, clichéd with dual thrusters and the ability to warp speed. By day he played his acoustic guitar on Devenport Road busking for loose change while pumping out the top 40, automatons please reach deep into your dusty pockets, hits. By night he jammed on the Strand with his covers band – playing all the Tiki Tane, Exponents, Dave Dobbyn classics one wouldn’t hope for when drowning their sorrows on a dead Saturday night in a dilapidated  ghost town while lamenting their previous nights lack of penile protection that lead to a severe case of itching, weeping, pus filled venereal disease. Whatever free time he had left was spent sitting around his silo, fedora on, waist coat at the ready, writing sprawling 13 minute songs about girls, rocket girls…girls he liked, girls he loved, girls that didn’t love or like him, girls that liked, loved and licked other girls, all sang over one chord, picked intricately while smoking away on a Marlboro light, sipping a skim milk café latte and nibbling on an organic, home cooked gluten free carob brownie….

One week Stoner Rocket had his good friend and former space traveller Apollo 14 come stay at his launch pad. Apollo was a child of the 70s and therefore quite liberated. Stoner Rocket was a child of Tauranga in the 90s and therefore very conservative. He read the bible, loved his mum and read stories to sick kids at the hospital on Thursday evenings. Stoner rocket was unfamiliar with the ways of the fast living American space explorer. So when he came home from men’s choir practice and saw a fresh batch of cookies, a nicely folded, filter-less fat cigarette and a cup of herbal tea he thought that good old Apollo must be trying to do something nice for his host. So he lit up that cigarette, took a bite, had a sip and then started to swim in a sea of serenity. His world turned upside down and then back around again in a kaleidoscope of colours. His mind morphed and mutated into a monster of mentality. His metal body quivered and shook in a state of ecstasy. Sounds were louder, more resonant, magic prevailed. His hands were suddenly huge. His eyes saw nothing yet everything. His mouth curled and whispered strange non-sequiturs to the wind. He was happy, so happy. He laughed and laughed. He was at peace and one with the world. He had to write a song. And he did.

What came out was not the usual generic, wishy, washy pap expected of a Tauranga musician, it was something so much more. It was the unusual. Something original. Something spooky. Something ethereal. Something majestic. Something beautiful. He was now truly a space cade singing with the stars. He is Stoner Rocket….

Stoner Rockets strung out, deep fried brain, rocket fueled ramblings are available now through Savant Garde Records cause he is all prestigious and shit…
