The Story of The Blowing Raspberries Once upon a time, in the tiny village of Hinterwäldle, deep in the northern Black Forest, there lived a family whose destiny would soon shape pop music in ways no one could have predicted. The father, known as "J.C." to all his drinking buddies, was a true 1980s man—a boomer whose heart still beat to the rhythm of walls of synthesizers and synthetic drum machines. He spent his days composing melancholic, synth-heavy pop songs, caught in a perpetual loop of big hair, pink leg warmers, and bad perms. His daughter, called “Kaykay” by everyone, grew up surrounded by J.C.'s music and the unpredictable forces of the forest. Wolves howled in the night, wild boars snuffled at their doorstep, and neighbours—more familiar with local legends than global pop charts—rarely ventured beyond their log cabins. Even as a child, Kaykay had a hunger for something bigger than the moss-covered trees and endless fog that seemed to keep the village in perpetual twilight. While her father's music was the soundtrack to her childhood, she couldn't shake the feeling that it was more a relic of the past than a true gateway to the future. Kaykay's Journey Fast forward a few years: Kaykay left the forest behind. She spent her youth soaking up experiences across South America, Northern Europe, and Asia. From the vibrant streets of Quito, where she developed a taste for danceable rhythms, to the minimalist beauty of Sweden, where she embraced edgy avant-garde pop, and finally to the chaos of Manila's suburbs—Kaykay learned to mix genres, cultures, and ideas. She honed her ear for contemporary sounds and found her feet in the urban sprawl of Sydney, hanging out with eclectic musicians from all walks of life. The Homecoming One day, Kaykay returned home for a visit and stumbled upon her father’s band in action. They were rehearsing in a dusty barn converted into a makeshift studio. J.C. was sitting at his worn-out keyboard, still clinging to his beloved 1983 Korg Poly800, playing a chord progression that could have been lifted straight from Miami Vice. Behind him were the "Neon Wolves"—three mullet-wearing guys in leather jackets with enough neon gear to blind a passing bird—struggling with their drum pads and a Commodore 64 recording gear. The sound they produced was... vintage. It felt like a bewildering echo from a time when the world thought the future was bright, shiny, and full of synthesizers. "Okay, Dad," Kaykay said with her arms crossed as she surveyed the scene. "We need to fix this." "What do you mean, 'fix it'?" J.C. asked, genuinely perplexed. "We're blowing minds with our sound." "You're blowing something," Kaykay retorted with a grin. "But it's not minds… Look, Dad. You've got the sound—but it's stuck in a time loop. You need... attitude. That's where I come in." The Birth of Blowing Raspberries Soon after their conversation, the band—now rebranded as The Blowing Raspberries—entered the studio to record their first hit single. The track was called "Wherever You Are," a cheeky and rebellious anthem celebrating the freedom of embracing the present. The song was catchy and ironic, feeling like both an homage to the past and a declaration of war on it. When The Blowing Raspberries finally released their debut album, it was nothing short of a cultural explosion. The press couldn't get enough of the duo's bizarro chemistry: J.C., with his boomer keyboard energy, and Kaykay with her fresh attitude. Their visual aesthetic was just as memorable—retro-futuristic shoulder pads met sassy streetwear; oversized jackets complemented electric blue lipstick; and raspberry-flavoured mocktails were thrown in for fun. The Unlikely Heroes Together they became unlikely heroes of the pop scene, offering something that was neither too stuck in the past nor too obsessed with the future. They created something entirely new—and just the right amount of bizarre. Through it all, Kaykay knew one thing for sure: no matter how cool or fresh their band became, her dad would always insist on showing off his vintage KorgPoly 800 to anyone who would listen. And honestly? It was part of their charm. The End. Or as Blowing Raspberries would put it: "The beginning of a very loud, very weird future."