Post by AndyLaRocque on May 8, 2005 8:52:52 GMT -5
A entrevista é Inglês.
Dani Filth - At Home With... - Kerrang! - February 2005
The Cradle Of Filth frontman takes us round his lovely, if mildly disturbing, home...
We approach the castle at 12midnight. There's a full moon, so the drawbridge casts an ominous shadow as it slowly descends, creaks echoing into the freezing night air. Owls hoot and the faint sound of flapping, furry wings can be heard as the portcullis begins to rise and a mysterious figure emerges from the shadows, its blank eyes staring deep into our cowering, mortal souls...
Actually, no. Dani Filth lives in Ipswich. Sorry about that. Nonetheless, the Cradle Of Filth frontman does manage to retain a tiny shred of mystique by dint of the fact that his front garden is overgrown and unwelcoming and suggests, not entirely inappropriately, that someone slightly demented lurks behind the front wall of this smart Vitcorian house on the corner.
It's not the most ostentatious or opulent looking building, but as we head round to the back door Dani emerges, greeting us with a cheery 'Ello...you alright?' and beckons us into the family homestead where he lives with his girlfriend Toni and their six-year-old daughter Luna. Once inside, it becomes plain that this house really couldn't belong to anyone else. Macabre and darkly intriguing ornaments catch the eye from all corners of the initial reception room, while the mischevious menace of the 'Nightmare Before Christmas' soundtrack wafts from hidden speakers. Okay, so he knew we were coming.
"We haven't spent hours and hours tidying up at all," grins Dani. "Honestly! It always looks this immaculate..."
Dani and his family moved into this house three years ago. Having made a quid or two from his day job as frontman for one of the world's biggest metal bands, you might imagine that he would have opted for something a little more glamorous, and certainly a lot nearer to London. But, contrary to popular opinion, Dani Filth is not entirely antisocial and had good reasons for staying in the city where he grew up.
"Deciding to stay in Ipswich was an easy decision," he shrugs as we all remove our shoes - Christ, that carpet looks expensive! - and shuffle into the living room. "Loads of people I know live around here. It's not too big and it's not too small. It's just about right. And London's too fucking expensive and there's too many people."
Suffolk certainly fits the vill in terms of getting a bit of peace and quiet every now and then, and that front garden isn't exactly the most visitor-friendly feature. Are you trying to keep the outside world firmly outside?
"We just don't use the front door really," says Dani. "We leave the garden like that so people will think we don't live here. Now all the nutters come round the back and shout at us from there instead!"
Does that happen a lot?
"Yeah, pretty much. There's one guy who comes around quite a lot," he says. "He sometimes brings us booze, so we wouldn't want to piss him off too much. It pays to be friendly sometimes!"
If anything gives away the fact that there's someone with a healthy bank balance living here, it's the gleaming, black Audi TT sitting on the rear driveway. We head out to take a peek at Dani's pride and joy and he visibly glows with pride as he settles into the front seat to pose for K! snapper Paul Harries.
"I had one of these a while ago," he states. "But I sold it because I was going off on tour to do the Ozzfest in the States and didn't really need to have a car sitting in the drive doing nothing. I bought Toni a mini, but in the end I couldn't help myself and ended up getting this one."
The problem with expensive cars, however, is that when other people drive into them at high spee it tends to cost an inordinate amount of dosh to get them fixed...
"Some arsehole smashed into the side of it last year," Dani recalls, scowling at the memory. "It caused over a grand's worth of damage. He didn't even stop. I was gutted. He just sailed off down a slip road. As far as I could see he only fucked his front wheel up. The fucker."
Back inside the house we take a stroll around Dani's living room and the room that connects it with the reception area. Bizarre artefacts skulk in every corner; a huge, ornamental teapot that looks like something retrieved from some ghoulish, 'Alice-In-Wonderland'-style parallel universe; numerous vast, dangerous-looking horns and antlers, presumably torn from the head of some hapless antelope or gazelle, sit mounted on plaques and shields and hang from the walls; a stuffed bat, the perfectly preserved and displayed work of a skilled taxidermist, looms over the small corridor that leads to the unused front door. It all fits exactly with the imagery and feel of Cradle Of Filth's theatrical, dark and malevolent world...
"I love bats," states Dani. "I was in India on holiday last year and we went to this really posh Italian restaurant. We sat on the third storey and there was this tree that hung over our table and as we sat eating we could hear these weird whooshing sounds. There were these fucking huge bats sweeping down over us. It was great! We went back again just to see the bats. The food was piss cheap, too."
On the mantelpiece, there sits a particularly cool-looking statuette: a piece of memorabilia from Tim Burton's much loved gothic animation 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'.
"I got that in Japan," says Dani. "It was really cheap compared to how much they are over here. The woman in the shop said, 'You'll be able to ship it back and it'll be really cheap'. In the end it cost the equivalent of 100 dollars but I paid 200 dollars to get the fucking thing home. Anyway, everyone's into the 'Nightmare Before Christmas' stuff now, too, so I've given up on it. You can get fucking underpants and scarves now!"
Next, we head up Dani's plush-looking carpeted staircase to his office. A poky box room, its walls covered from ceiling to floor in unopened sci-fi and horror toys and other memorabilia, it seems more like an eternal teenager's haven than a place of work.
"I don't really collect things," says Dani. "I just pick up stuff like that. There was a big, green robot that I liked once but I couldn't it into my suitcase! New York's the best place for finding cool toys and stuff. My favourite one here is my Sea Creature monster play set."
Far scarier than aquatic beasts fashioned from cheap plastic, however, is the presence of a deeply peculiar painting that hangs above Dani's desk.
Painted by America serial killer John Wayne Gacy (often known as the 'Killer Clown') it's a badly conceived and poorly painted thing, but it exudes a really unsettling aura; a semblance of genuine horror lurking amid Dani's other, less reality-based playthings.
"Yeah, I think the boys he killed would probably agree with you there," says Dani. "It's horrible, isn't it. I got it from someone I knew who was trying to get rid of it five years ago. This room was just about the only place we could bear to put it."
John Wayne Gacy was a shit artist, though, wasn't he.
"Yeah, look at the mummy!" laughs Dani. "He's got a normal face and the rest of him is covered in bandages. Very fucking strange. And there's some real blood on there, apparently, and it looks like he started to draw a rat in it for some reason."
Slightly less disturbing - or equally disturbing, but in a different way - is the bottle of superbly named Wanking Beer that sits proudly on Dani's shelf.
"You can't see that and not buy it, can you?" he smirks. "It was a six pack. I drank the other five. Excellent stuff."
Next door is the spare room, in which Dani keeps the "tons and tons" of Cradle Of Filth memorabilia and assorted knick-knacks given to the band by their global army of slightly unhinged admirers.
Dani Filth - At Home With... - Kerrang! - February 2005
The Cradle Of Filth frontman takes us round his lovely, if mildly disturbing, home...
We approach the castle at 12midnight. There's a full moon, so the drawbridge casts an ominous shadow as it slowly descends, creaks echoing into the freezing night air. Owls hoot and the faint sound of flapping, furry wings can be heard as the portcullis begins to rise and a mysterious figure emerges from the shadows, its blank eyes staring deep into our cowering, mortal souls...
Actually, no. Dani Filth lives in Ipswich. Sorry about that. Nonetheless, the Cradle Of Filth frontman does manage to retain a tiny shred of mystique by dint of the fact that his front garden is overgrown and unwelcoming and suggests, not entirely inappropriately, that someone slightly demented lurks behind the front wall of this smart Vitcorian house on the corner.
It's not the most ostentatious or opulent looking building, but as we head round to the back door Dani emerges, greeting us with a cheery 'Ello...you alright?' and beckons us into the family homestead where he lives with his girlfriend Toni and their six-year-old daughter Luna. Once inside, it becomes plain that this house really couldn't belong to anyone else. Macabre and darkly intriguing ornaments catch the eye from all corners of the initial reception room, while the mischevious menace of the 'Nightmare Before Christmas' soundtrack wafts from hidden speakers. Okay, so he knew we were coming.
"We haven't spent hours and hours tidying up at all," grins Dani. "Honestly! It always looks this immaculate..."
Dani and his family moved into this house three years ago. Having made a quid or two from his day job as frontman for one of the world's biggest metal bands, you might imagine that he would have opted for something a little more glamorous, and certainly a lot nearer to London. But, contrary to popular opinion, Dani Filth is not entirely antisocial and had good reasons for staying in the city where he grew up.
"Deciding to stay in Ipswich was an easy decision," he shrugs as we all remove our shoes - Christ, that carpet looks expensive! - and shuffle into the living room. "Loads of people I know live around here. It's not too big and it's not too small. It's just about right. And London's too fucking expensive and there's too many people."
Suffolk certainly fits the vill in terms of getting a bit of peace and quiet every now and then, and that front garden isn't exactly the most visitor-friendly feature. Are you trying to keep the outside world firmly outside?
"We just don't use the front door really," says Dani. "We leave the garden like that so people will think we don't live here. Now all the nutters come round the back and shout at us from there instead!"
Does that happen a lot?
"Yeah, pretty much. There's one guy who comes around quite a lot," he says. "He sometimes brings us booze, so we wouldn't want to piss him off too much. It pays to be friendly sometimes!"
If anything gives away the fact that there's someone with a healthy bank balance living here, it's the gleaming, black Audi TT sitting on the rear driveway. We head out to take a peek at Dani's pride and joy and he visibly glows with pride as he settles into the front seat to pose for K! snapper Paul Harries.
"I had one of these a while ago," he states. "But I sold it because I was going off on tour to do the Ozzfest in the States and didn't really need to have a car sitting in the drive doing nothing. I bought Toni a mini, but in the end I couldn't help myself and ended up getting this one."
The problem with expensive cars, however, is that when other people drive into them at high spee it tends to cost an inordinate amount of dosh to get them fixed...
"Some arsehole smashed into the side of it last year," Dani recalls, scowling at the memory. "It caused over a grand's worth of damage. He didn't even stop. I was gutted. He just sailed off down a slip road. As far as I could see he only fucked his front wheel up. The fucker."
Back inside the house we take a stroll around Dani's living room and the room that connects it with the reception area. Bizarre artefacts skulk in every corner; a huge, ornamental teapot that looks like something retrieved from some ghoulish, 'Alice-In-Wonderland'-style parallel universe; numerous vast, dangerous-looking horns and antlers, presumably torn from the head of some hapless antelope or gazelle, sit mounted on plaques and shields and hang from the walls; a stuffed bat, the perfectly preserved and displayed work of a skilled taxidermist, looms over the small corridor that leads to the unused front door. It all fits exactly with the imagery and feel of Cradle Of Filth's theatrical, dark and malevolent world...
"I love bats," states Dani. "I was in India on holiday last year and we went to this really posh Italian restaurant. We sat on the third storey and there was this tree that hung over our table and as we sat eating we could hear these weird whooshing sounds. There were these fucking huge bats sweeping down over us. It was great! We went back again just to see the bats. The food was piss cheap, too."
On the mantelpiece, there sits a particularly cool-looking statuette: a piece of memorabilia from Tim Burton's much loved gothic animation 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'.
"I got that in Japan," says Dani. "It was really cheap compared to how much they are over here. The woman in the shop said, 'You'll be able to ship it back and it'll be really cheap'. In the end it cost the equivalent of 100 dollars but I paid 200 dollars to get the fucking thing home. Anyway, everyone's into the 'Nightmare Before Christmas' stuff now, too, so I've given up on it. You can get fucking underpants and scarves now!"
Next, we head up Dani's plush-looking carpeted staircase to his office. A poky box room, its walls covered from ceiling to floor in unopened sci-fi and horror toys and other memorabilia, it seems more like an eternal teenager's haven than a place of work.
"I don't really collect things," says Dani. "I just pick up stuff like that. There was a big, green robot that I liked once but I couldn't it into my suitcase! New York's the best place for finding cool toys and stuff. My favourite one here is my Sea Creature monster play set."
Far scarier than aquatic beasts fashioned from cheap plastic, however, is the presence of a deeply peculiar painting that hangs above Dani's desk.
Painted by America serial killer John Wayne Gacy (often known as the 'Killer Clown') it's a badly conceived and poorly painted thing, but it exudes a really unsettling aura; a semblance of genuine horror lurking amid Dani's other, less reality-based playthings.
"Yeah, I think the boys he killed would probably agree with you there," says Dani. "It's horrible, isn't it. I got it from someone I knew who was trying to get rid of it five years ago. This room was just about the only place we could bear to put it."
John Wayne Gacy was a shit artist, though, wasn't he.
"Yeah, look at the mummy!" laughs Dani. "He's got a normal face and the rest of him is covered in bandages. Very fucking strange. And there's some real blood on there, apparently, and it looks like he started to draw a rat in it for some reason."
Slightly less disturbing - or equally disturbing, but in a different way - is the bottle of superbly named Wanking Beer that sits proudly on Dani's shelf.
"You can't see that and not buy it, can you?" he smirks. "It was a six pack. I drank the other five. Excellent stuff."
Next door is the spare room, in which Dani keeps the "tons and tons" of Cradle Of Filth memorabilia and assorted knick-knacks given to the band by their global army of slightly unhinged admirers.
po eu jurava que ia ser diferente a casa dele hehehehe
