Born in the scorched dust of Broken Hill — the backdrop to Mad Max 2 and Wake In Fright — I’m the son of a bomber pilot turned bush pilot, raised on the edge of the outback and the unknown.

​

I cut my teeth in the sweat and swagger of Sydney’s '90s funk scene, where I learned how to wield a hook and brand with sound, not just volume.

​

From jam rooms to jet lag, I’ve lived and worked in Singapore, chilled in the south of France and hung out to dry in the brutal sun of Brisbane. Somewhere along the way, I figured out how to make brands stick — not with noise, but with tone. Today, I run The Voodoo Hack Sound, where every project’s got teeth, tension, and a fingerprint you can hear.