Carl Begai

By Carl Begai

Success breeds contempt faster than crack-addicted rabbits trapped in a barn, and in the great tradition of tearing down those that have more than other folks on the same page, anyone brazen enough put a death grip on the brass ring is guaranteed to be slammed for it. This has been Munich-based French-American photographer Audrey Dujardin’s reality for the last year as her career has picked up speed. Ironically, any negativity that has come her way has had more to do with other ventures added to her resumé rather than her increased body of work behind the camera. A return to radio, diving deeper into video journalism / production, hosting metal festivals, work as a vocal coach, and exhibiting occasional pirate-like tendencies with mic in hand on Alestorm’s stage, have all contributed to an increased number of keyboard warriors asking who the fuck Dujardin thinks she is, and taking their supposedly allotted pounds flesh accordingly.

Dujardin is too busy working to notice, however; a concept her naysayers haven’t quite gotten a handle on.

“It’s funny,” she says, now able to laugh off the vast majority of attempts to bring her down. “A few years ago when I was doing stuff with Emilie Autumn, people thought I was full of shit and just bragging my ass off… until they saw the photos. Then it was ‘Oh shit, if she’s on stage, then maybe she’s not making it up…’ I ended up getting this wave of hate from people after the Metalfest this year, which was an event I hosted. People say awful things when someone becomes successful, so you can imagine what they were saying about me. The truth is that I work myself to the point of exhaustion. This shit doesn’t happen on its own; it happens because I’m on the phone all the time, I’m networking all the time, and I’m where I’m supposed to be when something needs to get done. This doesn’t happen because I show my tits or anything like that.”

Don’t mistake this as bitterness talking. Instead, call it attitude laced with justified contempt for people who can’t fathom what it means to put skull to grindstone. (continue reading…)

By Carl Begai

If Tim Burton were to direct a stage production of Cats it would end up being an Emilie Autumn show.

The bottom line is that until you’ve seen her perform you can’t truly understand or appreciate the hype that Emilie’s beloved Plague Rat followers dish out on a daily basis. And perform she does. With the help of four of her closest f(r)iends – affectionately known as The Bloody Crumpets – and a diehard fanbase that hangs on every note, word, raised eyebrow, spilled teacup and adjusted-just-so body part, Emilie brings her music to kicking and screaming life with often stunning results. The show is a first class stage production with the potential to appeal to theatre-goers from all walks of life, yet it takes place more often than not in venues that normally host unwashed metal bands and their beer swilling supporters. From a personal perspective I was reminded of Evil Dead: The Musical, an independent Toronto-born theatre production launched in the back room of a seedy club in 2003 that has since exploded, receiving worldwide acclaim. While her music and show are a world apart from the Evil Dead, Emilie Autumn likewise has the audience wrapped around her finger from the moment the curtain goes up.

No question, she’s come a long, long way from her days as a mere stage prop for Courtney Love. (continue reading…)

By Carl Begai

Pulled from the wreckage of her shattered-to-bits favourite teacup, Emilie Autumn quickly proves she’s more than just a pretty face with a sarcastic wink. Delightfully off-the-wall and refreshingly candid, the self-styled Victoriandustrial vocalist / songwriter / performer is an interview that demands you bring your “A” game and a genuine interest in what she does. She picks your brain as you pick hers, goes off on tangents that offer valuable insight on her artistic drive, and has no problem taking the piss out of anyone, herself included. Within the first few minutes of discussion it becomes clear that Emilie Autumn’s image – the hair, clothes, make-up, barbed online prose, stage show; everything right down to the pasties – is the real deal. There’s no striving for Alice Cooper / Marilyn Manson shock value, no calculated controversial remarks nor turn of bare thigh to keep the goth community entranced just a little longer. What you see is most certainly what you get.

“There’s not a damn thing contrived about me,” Emilie says of her image, which most fans and naysayers quite logically assume gets shoved into the closet when the curtain comes down. “I often times wish that it was and that I had a much more normal life, but I don’t. I can’t lie to you, I tone it down for the stage (laughs).”
(continue reading…)