Hot off the press; cool to the touch — the Boorloo Bulletin reads in block lettering: Great Statue wins big at the Cass, blows it all sky-high, combusts like a rockstar meteorite 'cross the Southern Cross and burns out like an old Camry. A cashed-up suburbanite plays the part of Icarus, too much and too fast.

Since 2018 they've appeared across Boorloo and Walyalup holding a bush chook in one hand, mic in the other: some strange karaoke performance of the classics you've never heard. In the new dawn of the year of 2023, a halo of light emanated from her silhouette, and swirling in the smoke around her appeared these letters as if etched into stone:

THE GREAT STATUE ARRIVES BEARING GIFTS OF THEIR OWN MAKING. THEIR FIRST APPEARANCE IN THE DIGITAL REALM WILL BE CELEBRATED ACROSS THE SUMMER MONTHS OF THE YEAR TWENTY-TWENTY-THREE (2023) PUNCTUATED BY THE RELEASE OF FOUR (4) EXTENDED PLAYS (EPs) ON LOCAL LABEL ROCKTON RECORDS. EACH OFFERING SHALL BE PRESENTED ONE WEEK APART, COMMENCING JANUARY 9 AND CONCLUDING JANUARY 30. ACCOMPANYING THE TOTAL OF NINETEEN (19 HOT NEW TRACKS WILL BE ONE (1) MUSIC VIDEO PRODUCED IN COLLABORATION WITH LOCAL FAIRY-GIRL BADDIES EMMA DAISY AND LYNDON BLUE. AS THE FINAL GIFT, THE STATUE HERSELF WILL APPEAR AT PIG MELON FOR AN EVENING OF IMPASSIONED MOTION AND DRAMATIC YET BUDGET LIGHTING ON FRIDAY FEBRUARY 3 AT PIG MELON IN BOORLOO (PERTH).

The final of four EPs brings the stage crashing down in a four track burst of apocalyptic ecstasy. At this stage in the hero’s journey we see the dizzying heights of stardom become unbearable, adoration turning into a pressure cooker of obsession. There is nothing much to say when one goes bust, which could be why the Statue’s tongue has gone dry. Their usually plentiful lyricism is replaced by brusque hooks, vintage drum machine grooves and weird dance breaks. The restrained grooves of her graceful higher self crumble into the gluttonous disco drops of a Statue going under. Listeners are the witnesses to an embrace of raw clarity, tempted by a hand outstretched, ushering them onto one last final, and definitely doomed, dancefloor. ‘Coventry for the wannabe; final bow goes bust!’