Laughs were shared, tears shed and fists raised at Camp Cope’s final hometown show in Naarm/Melbourne this past March. Frontwoman Georgia Maq, in banter that oscillated between quippy and earnest, told the crowd at Estonian House that the trio are throwing in the towel because she “fucking hate[s playing guitar” and “really want[s] to get nails”. In the background, a slideshow flicked through stock photos of laughing strangers and corporate boardrooms, tongue-in-cheek ‘announcements’ (“Management have requested Georgia’s microphone be muted between songs for maximum crowd enjoyment”) and emphatic declarations of Camp Cope’s long- and loudly-held beliefs (“Trans rights are human rights”).
As it was one of the last times Melbourne would ever see Camp Cope live, there was an emotional gravity to the proceedings. But things also felt low-key, and business as usual: they rolled through a dozen of their catalogue staples (interpolating jokey snippets of covers, like ‘Wonderwall’ in ‘Sing Your Heart Out’) and welcomed the occasional special guest (like Angie McMahon for ‘The Screaming Planet’).
Camp Cope’s live show has hardly leaned on the schtick of spectacle. The band prefer to let the music do the talking: their earlier songs tell sprawling stories of humanity and personal growth via raw stream-of-consciousness poetry (see ‘Done’ and ‘Footscray Station’), while later efforts like ‘Anna’, ‘Blue’ and fan-favourite standalone single ‘Keep Growing’ favour sharper quips and more straightforward hooks to get equally poignant points across.
Despite a stripped-down setup, no two Camp Cope shows were ever the same. Maq, bassist Kelly-Dawn Hellmrich and drummer Sarah ‘Thomo’ Thompson always found something new to say between songs, whether it be lighthearted ribbing, cheesy jokes about current affairs, or searing calls for political upheaval. Even as their shows evolved from backyards and carparks to bars, then small venues to theatres, to stately halls like the Sydney Opera House – where they’ll say goodbye in a final show tomorrow – Camp Cope always made their audiences feel like friends sitting in on their jam sessions. They connected with their crowds like that was all that ever mattered.
Formed in 2015 after Maq and Hellmrich bonded over their DIY tattoos, Camp Cope was initially a vehicle to flesh out the acoustic songs Maq had been performing solo for a few years beforehand. Having recently moved to Melbourne from Eora/Sydney, where she’d spend her summer nights swimming at Camp Cove, Hellmrich was feeling homesick and missed performing; Thompson, too, would agree to pretty much any opportunity to smack a snare.
The trio never expected fame, or to make any monumental change to the rusted-in structures of the Australian music industry – they decried it at their shows out of genuine frustration, weaved around the power-emo songs they played for creative fulfilment. Little did they know that thousands of listeners, many of them young women, shared their frustrations and resonated with their melodic, emotional fervour.
So this farewell show at the Opera House, one of the country’s greatest stages, will be bittersweet. For the past eight years, Camp Cope have been one of the most exciting bands in Australian music, evolving their sound and prompting us to reflect and change the ways we thought about the scene we’re a part of. They released songs that will go down as classics, and made the industry a more welcoming place for women, people of colour and the queer community. But now is the right time for them to step out of the spotlight.
“We got to tour the world, try to change a small part of a terrible industry and meet so many amazing people who are now lifelong friends” – Sarah Thompson
Even after losing two years to the pandemic, Camp Cope “achieved more than we ever set out to”, Thompson tells NME. “I honestly thought we’d play some shows in Melbourne and maybe our friends would like our first album,” she adds. “We got to tour the world, try to change a small part of a terrible industry, meet so many amazing people who are now lifelong friends… I’m pretty happy with that. I’m really happy to leave it there and bow out on our own terms.”
Maq similarly looks at the band and their three albums as her “proudest achievement”, noting that they “went through so much but in the end, we saved ourselves and we ended on our own terms in our own way”. As for Hellmrich, she hopes Camp Cope is “something my kids can look back and feel proud of or be inspired by,” she says. “I never, ever thought I would see or experience even half of the things I got to do during our time as a band. I am so grateful to my bandmates and our supporters for giving us that opportunity.”
Even though Camp Cope has concluded, their impact will live on in those they’ve inspired – many of whom came forward on social media upon their break-up announcement in February to both mourn the band and celebrate the example they set. “Fuck yeah to them empowering an entire new era of fearless non-men and queer people in music,” wrote Cahli Blakers of Adelaide pop punk duo Teenage Joans. “They taught us how to create such a beautiful safe space at our shows, and there is no legacy like following in their footsteps and playing our first headline tour to the most incredibly kind and respectful crowds.”
they taught us how to create such a beautiful safe space at our shows, and there is no legacy like following in their footsteps and playing our first headline tour to the most incredibly kind and respectful crowds. we owe it to them i think :’) fuckin legends
— ms. joan (@cahliblakers) February 8, 2023
“To me, the most significant thing about Camp Cope’s activism is that it was fearless and consistent,” Kira Puru, who considers the trio personal friends, tells NME. “It’s one thing to throw up a post about something you feel passionate about, in your own little echo chamber, one time. But to consistently back up your beliefs with action, whether or not it’s visible, easy or advantageous, or even puts future opportunities at risk? That’s huge.
“It takes strength and vulnerability in equal measure. It takes heart; a desire to want to create change, and an ability to care about other people, enough to put your interests aside. I wouldn’t say it’s hard, but it’s not easy either. I think maybe some of us needed that to be modelled to understand that we can all be like that. To be reminded that change is possible and it can start with us, here and now.”
We can’t discuss the impact Camp Cope has had on the Australian music industry without mentioning ‘The Opener’. The lead single from ‘How To Socialise And Make Friends’, it’s a withering, evergreen call-out of the men who underestimate and condescend to women without taking any accountability – one always sung with a vicious sneer, and to an audience echoing the lines with rapturous aplomb.
At the 2017 Falls Festival, Maq changed the lyrics of ‘The Opener’ to address the lack of diversity on the line-up: “It’s another man telling us we can’t fill up a tent,” she sang pointedly in the hook; “It’s another fucking festival booking only nine women.” It was as direct a call-out as any, one that sparked a vital conversation about festival line-ups and who gets opportunities – and who doesn’t – in Australian live music. This conversation about equity and inclusivity was one that Camp Cope had already been pushing forward, from instituting a safe-space hotline for their shows to the 2016 #ItTakesOne campaign to end sexual harassment at gigs.
Camp Cope didn’t form with the intent to change the world. “I personally never went back into music with the intention of being ‘political’ – I just went in as angry about the state of things as I’d always been,” says Thompson. “I had seven years off and came back and nothing had changed. I guess it turns out a lot of people related. Fighting on behalf of those people has always been the number one privilege of doing any of this.”
“The most significant thing about Camp Cope’s activism is that it was fearless and consistent” – Kira Puru
“I couldn’t have said it better than that,” Maq adds. “I’ve always been a fighter and I always wanted to contribute to change for the better. I just hope we did a good job for everyone who felt impacted by us. We didn’t always get it right but we always tried, and we always spoke out because it needed to be done at the time.”
For Hellmrich, Camp Cope began and will end as “three mates making music”. “That was what made it so special, and all of my memories aren’t big career moments but the little things we shared, like laughing fits from being nervous during our first interviews and having to get a talking-to, like schoolchildren, to calm down and do our job.
“Catching the subway in [New York] for the first time, [spending] New Year’s Eve together in airport hotels, stepping in pee on aeroplanes, singalongs on long car rides, finding floors to sleep on in strangers’ living rooms… There was so much genuine love and connection and I really feel like the music community and fans felt that and became a part of it too.”
For now, these three mates are walking their own paths. Maq, whose last solo record was 2019’s ‘Pleaser’, is now based in Los Angeles working on new music (NME has heard an album of as-yet-unreleased demos, and it’s nothing short of stunning). Hellmrich, now back in her hometown of Western Sydney, recently became a mum and is working with Briggs on both his Bad Apples label and its accompanying Adam Briggs Foundation. Thompson is keeping the dream alive in Naarm, maintaining the equal split of magic and madness that goes down at Poison City Records.
In what looks like our last-ever interview with Camp Cope, NME can’t help but ask: is there any chance at all they’ll reunite? Hellmrich “feel[s] the same way about reunions as I do about encores”, while Maq simply replies, “I love Camp Cope.”
“We didn’t always get it right but we always tried, and we always spoke out because it needed to be done at the time” – Georgia Maq
Indeed, there is a lot to love about Camp Cope: three incredible women who made incredible strides to better their community. The Australian indie, rock and punk scenes of today owe an immeasurable debt to Camp Cope, and for many of us fans who are women, queer, trans or people of colour, we have them to thank for those scenes becoming more accessible to us.
Camp Cope burned bright eight years, but their legacy will live on for decades to come – from Footscray Station to the world.
Camp Cope’s final show takes place at the Sydney Opera House on Friday, October 13. It is sold out