Frontman David Le’aupepe on stage

at Sydney’s iconic Enmore Theatre,

142 MAY | JUNE 2019 GQ.COM.AU

On the cusp of greatness and destined for international fame, the five guys who make up Gang of Youths are

proof you don’t need an ego to be bona fide rock stars.

F O R E V E R Y O U N G

WORDS JACK PHILLIPS PHO T OGR APH Y JESS GLEESON

143MAY | JUNE 2019 GQ.COM.AU

The time is 2pm and the sun is high in the sky. Four teenage girls lean against the exte-rior of Sydney’s Enmore Theatre. Sporting baggy band tees, high-tops and bum bags, they are taking refuge from the searing summer heat. The pavement is lined with metal railings, which while controlling crowds, are absorbing the sun’s heat. A boy dashes across the road and, having narrowly missed the bonnet of a VW ‘Golf’, places two hands atop the railing to leap over, but recoils in hesitation before his feet leave the ground. He embraces the ignominy of walking the long way around.

Fans of all shapes and ages emerge from every direction to join a queue that already snakes far down the streets of Newtown. Fetchers are dispatched to ascertain the location of hot chips and bottles of water; carriers bring them back.

T-minus seven hours, these are scenes that have repeated themselves, and will con-tinue to, outside the iconic music venue. After all, over the years the Enmore has been privy to some of the greatest live per-formers of all time. The Rolling Stones, Oasis, Bob Dylan, Coldplay, PULP, Mas-sive Attack and KISS have all performed at the intimate 2500-capacity venue.

In their eagerness to secure front-row standing, new arrivals jump the line to the irritation of those (less eager) behind, while ticket touts wander up and down adjusting their prices at will. Quick assessment con-firms the young arrive earlier than the older set to see their favourite band; they are more likely to know all the lyrics, and more susceptible to purchasing merch.

Back on the busy road, another jaywalker holds up traffic to snap a photo of the big black letters hanging above the door. They read ‘GANG OF YOUTHS’.

D avid Le’aupepe, the frontman of Aus-tralia’s hottest band, cuts an impos-ing figure in the flesh. A soft-featured

six-foot-something with flowing locks, he’s a proud Sydneysider with a prouder Samoan-Jewish background. Guitarist Joji Malani isn’t lacking in height either. Provider of electricity and eccentricity, he’s in red socks and Gucci slides and is hell-bent on waxing philosophic about everything from his Fijian ancestry to ’00s female punk bands. Jung Kim on keyboard has an accent that stands out among the strong Aussie twangs. As a Korean-American migrant, his parents moved to Sydney when he was a teen. Shy Polish-Australian drummer Donnie Borzestowski has the kind of curly mane that is hard to miss and makes for excellent head-banging onstage. Then there’s Kiwi Max Dunn on bass, in thongs and an LA Lakers basketball jersey. He might look stern at times yet is anything but in real life.

“We’re just a random group of diverse dudes, making music together.”

144 MAY | JUNE 2019 GQ.COM.AU

FROM FAR LEF TKeyboardist Jung Kim, bassist Max Dunn, guitarist Joji Malani, vocalist David Le’aupepe and drummer Donnie Borzestowski.

Together, they are Gang of Youths. Or as Dunn puts it, “We’re just a random group of diverse dudes, making music together”.

In Sydney for the last Aussie show of their national homecoming Say Yes To Life tour, which has been running since late last year, the boys are in especially high spirits. While the queue continues to build outside, the band excitedly makes final sound check preparations. Guitar strings are plucked. Kick pedals are slapped against drum skins. Vocal cords are exercised.

Le’aupepe scuffs his boots on the claret carpet and swigs lukewarm Evian just off stage. “Did you know I used to be a GQ Aus-tralia intern?” he says with a smile. “It was like years ago – I spent a lot of time in the fashion cupboard not doing much at all.”

Whether or not that time spent “not doing much at all” was where he found his calling to be a rock star, only he knows, but

the writing was already on another wall for Le’aupepe to be a star. The frontman’s charming restless aura is magnetic, and though he outwardly calls himself an “anx-ious, paranoid depressive,” the self-assess-ment only adds intrigue to Le’aupepe’s appeal. A confident man channelling his inner-intern introspections clearly makes for compelling song lyrics.

Ahead of tonight’s gig, there’s an antici-pation in the beer-stained air. The band knows they are hours away from a special performance. Onstage and in this particu-lar moment, Le’aupepe looks at home.

“I was born down the street and the ges-tational stages of Gang of Youths were here,” he explains as two engineers solve an audio issue. “There is a part of us in every corner of the city and even though we now live in London, we’ve got so many connec-tions with this place.” The techies give the

thumbs up for final prep; Malani picks at his strings and Le’aupepe, jumping back onstage, makes a beeline for the mic.

R eleased in 2015, The Positions gave the band their break – an intense yet beautiful concept album encapsulat-

ing the emotions Le’aupepe experienced as a 21-year-old, while his first wife was being treated for advanced cancer. Singles ‘Radi-oface’ and ‘Magnolia’ were given heavy rotation locally and the album peaked at No.5 on the ARIA charts. The context of the lyrics, together with the band’s unique sound, captured the attention of a growing fan base. Unlike some bands who choose not to delve into personal specifics, Gang of Youths bare all. Each track from that semi-nal album had a distinct story beneath it. Another hit, ‘Vital Signs’, is about Le’aupepe’s attempted suicide during a

tough period of alcohol abuse and the break-down of that first marriage.

The follow-up album, 2017’s Go Farther in Lightness capitalised on the promise of The Positions. Not only did it debut at No.1 on the ARIA charts, it was nominated for eight ARIAs, winning four including Album of the Year, Best Group and Best Rock Album. Their five-track EP Let Me Be Clear, released between both records, got some resounding thumbs up from the ARIA bigwigs too.

This brief timeline of success is well recorded and continually quoted. So too are the band’s beginnings. The boys met through the Sydney chapter of Hillsong and it’s not hard to see links between main-stream Christian rock, Gang of Youths and their religious Pentecostal background – which in turn holds links with other groups of similarly religious undertones. U2, Belle & Sebastian, Kings of Leon, Skillet, Switchfoot and Owl City are all bands of faith and have all achieved mainstream suc-cess, while not necessarily identifying as a ‘Christian rock bands’ per se. Gang of Youths sit somewhere here – openly acknowledging their origins without the preachy oeuvre. In a world where so much superficial information is now shared in so little faith, it’s no surprise that every new

“We all have issues, we’re all screw ups and we don’t want people to feel intimidated. So if they respond to us, awesome.”

window of openness is taking Gang of Youths’ music to new heights.

“It’s weird that people look at celebs and famous people as role models,” says Le’aupepe post sound check as the band gathers round. Dunn, Kim and Malani are squeezed on a two-seater sofa while Borzestowski sits on an upturned rubbish basket. Le’aupepe pulls up a chair. There’s not a bottle of vodka or a bowl of blue M&Ms in sight. No rider, groupies, hang-ers-on or managers. The boys are alone, content with nothing except for each other.

As talk bounces around about why they may have become role models to fans, Dunn admits, “We all have issues, we’re all screw ups and we don’t want people to feel intimi-dated. So if they respond to us, awesome.”

Positive change seems to be the driving force for everything they do, be it the pro-cess of outwardly admitting their own flaws or acknowledging that they’re always look-ing to do and be better. This is true of Le’aupepe, who has never shied away from his demons. He has been especially candid with the press and his fans about his suicide attempt a few years back. “My job leaves me depleted and often sleepless, ridden with anxiety and worry,” he wrote on social media last year, marking the four-year anniversary of the day he attempted to end his life.

CLOCKWISE FROM FAR LEF TLe’aupepe and Malani doing what they do best; the set list from the band’s Sydney show; the final song of the night always calls for some theatrics.

FROM TOP LEF TThe band pay their respects to their diehards – and the rock gods; fans putting in the early work to ensure they can get so close they can feel the sweat.

the Aboriginal Legal Service and announced on Twitter earlier this month that $50,000 was on its way to help Indigenous Australians entangled in the legal system.

By all accounts, Gang of Youths have ticked off nearly all the statutory ‘career checklist’ items deeming them successful. Sexy frontman, check. Hit songs on the radio, check. Rousing live show, check. Adoring fans, check. Global recognition, coming.

For seven years, GOY has been trying to smash through the glass ceiling abroad. The music press has been catching on, albeit later than the band would have liked. But in March this year came a breakthrough. BBC Radio 2’s Jo Whiley added ‘What Can I Do If The Fire Goes Out’ to her playlist. As the UK’s most listened-to station, the coveted placement brings with it much-valued airplay across a weekly audience of some 15 million. By way of example of Whiley’s influence, their four London dates in April quickly sold out.

At long last, the band is poised for the interna-tional success their talent is due. And they’re

“I am reminded that my wife, the band, my loved ones, my family and you who care about what we do in GOY have given me more reasons to get up out of bed than I could enumerate, that the answer to this question called life is, as Nietzsche proclaims, simply ‘yes’.”

Whether it is their religious values or their forthright approach to fighting toxic masculinity that underpins the band’s attitude, sharing feel-ings and discussing hard issues is an obvious focus. It’s something Borzestowski refers to as their “mission”, and what “hooked him in”. They are supportive, caring, sensitive even, and the lan-guage that makes up their social media channels is more Jonas Brothers than Sex Pistols. More prayer hand emojis than biting the heads off bats.

When quizzed about inspirations, Dunn name-drops David Pocock over fellow musicians. “He spends his time fighting for the rights of animals, for equality and then is a really fucking good rugby player. I find people like that inspiring.”

That is Gang of Youths in a nutshell. They have heart, purpose and they genuinely give a shit. On this tour, they gave a proportion of tickets sales to A

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148 MAY | JUNE 2019 GQ.COM.AU

ready for it. “Finally, we’re making some semblance of a living,” says Malani. “We’re not super rich by any means but we don’t have to work five jobs anymore to be here.”

Support in the US is also gathering pace. In the past six months, positive media has come from notoriously hard-to-please publications like The Washington Post and Rolling Stone magazine. The Post labelled them “unabashedly sincere”. MTV Unplugged tapped Gang of Youths to front its first proper recording in Australia last year too.

Breaking big is a crap shoot. With so many variables, all manner of stars need to align in order to go full Kings of Leon or total Mumford & Sons. One non-negotia-ble a band requires to succeed is unity. And Gang of Youths have it in spades. Not only do they play together night after night, they live together. “We all live in a six-bedroom, four-storey townhouse in London,” says Kim, “Us and our partners. We’re a family through and through.”

T -minus one hour, bass perforates the backstage hang space as the support act warms up the crowd. Our inter-

view has inevitably broken down into sprout-ing side chats, first between Borzestowski and Dunn and then Kim and Malani. The topic of pornography comes up. Le’aupepe interjects. “Sorry to interrupt but did you know Pornhub gives away a tonne of money to charities?”

“You know they have a record label, too?” adds Malani.

“Yeah, they’ve just signed Andrea Bocelli,” jokes Borzestowski.

“What!?” exclaims Le’aupepe, before Dunn cracks a smile and they fall about laughing.

Exchanges like this pepper our time together, from deep to funny. One minute we’re talking church bands and Sydney’s music scene, the next it’s all about going vegan or Kim’s father crowdsurfing at shows. What started as an interview has descended beautifully into shooting the breeze over a cup of tea. Ultimately, Gang of Youths treat what they have like a romantic relationship. They live together, they play together, they’re growing together, they’ve been through hardships and pain together, they’ve experienced dizzying highs and success together. Take away the band and what’s left is five men

who foresee themselves together forever, even if not on stage however many nights a week.

Not done yet though, Malani takes over GQ’s duties and asks Le’aupepe, “If we had never broken through, would you still be doing this?”

Le’aupepe sits back and ponders the ques-tion. “I wouldn’t give up but I would have had to query what we are doing,” he says, criss crossing his fingers. “I can’t think that we won’t have some sense of longevity. I can’t have that conversation with myself. I can’t think that it would never work.”

“Even if that took 10 albums?” continues Malani.

“Yeah.” says Le’aupepe, pausing to deliver his next sentence. “Because you’d be happy just making awesome shit, right?”

“I’d love to keep touring, but I hate seeing my heroes at 60 years old,” muses Malani. “I don’t want that for us. Nobody wants to see Slash on stage as an old man.”

On that intriguing note, we leave the band for last-minute tweaks before showtime. The stage, now fully warm, awaits them.

N inety three minutes of ectasy, screaming, sweat and tears later, fans old, new and reborn have just wit-

nessed a gig they won’t forget any time soon. As the band toys with the crowd over an encore, it’s telling that the final song should be ‘Say Yes To Life’.

“Life is short, sometimes it’s difficult,” shouts Le’aupepe over the cheers, before the drums kick in. A confetti canon goes off spewing a shower of white paper across a baying crowd moving as one. The teen-age girls from earlier are right up front, arms waving, they’re having the time of their lives.

As we watch the pandemonium ensue in front of us, we can’t help but retrace Mala-ni’s earlier words. Could the band’s great-est legacy be in their name? Collectively youthful, forever?

Le’aupepe raises his arms in the air, swings his hips left and right gyrating them around like a Polynesian hula dancer. Borzestowski’s head-banging disappears behind a puff of stage smoke, Dunn, Malani and Kim along with it. It’s quite a finale. Le’aupepe points his guitar out to the crowd, smiles and steps up to the mic for the last time:

“It’s good to be home. Here’s to what’s next. Goodnight.” n

“Finally, we’re making some semblance of a living... We’re not super rich but we don’t have to work five jobs anymore.”

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