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http://www.news.com.au/adelaidenow/story/0...5006343,00.htmlWhat's Guy done to deserve this?ANNE JOHNSON
October 22, 2006 12:15am
GUY Sebastian is, quite literally, treading on eggshells. They're crunching underfoot as he slowly registers what's happened.
Yellow globules decorate the front door of his home in the salubrious Sydney waterside suburb of Palm Beach. And there's his car: smatterings of yolk and shell amid the same mucous and dried muck.
Somebody's taken the time and effort to find out where the inaugural Australian Idol winner lives. And they've expressed themselves by decorating his property with eggs.
The first time was the worst. Now he accepts some people are angry and offended by his very existence.
"I get called `fa ggot' a lot," says Guy, rubbing his chin. "It's even been spray-painted over my car.
"You know, I was waiting in line at the service station the other day and the bloke in front of me obviously recognised me. He gave this sort of laugh and I just knew he was going to have a go at me.
"And he did. He screamed at me `F---ing black fa ggot!' as he drove up the road." Odd behaviour, but no longer unexpected.
On par is the woman who rang Guy's doorbell one evening, then attempted to kiss him passionately.
"Her boyfriend jumped out of the bushes and tried to take photos. I still do find that pretty amazing, but I'm getting less surprised," he says.
Guy's new nose stud is slipping and he absent-mindedly shoves his finger up his nostril to keep it in place. A floppy cap covers his recently shorn hair, which he has not had time to check, so the hat stays on.
Talk to friends, family and acquaintances and you can easily believe there's not a tough bone in his body. Gentle, they call him; a gentle man. This gentle man is trying to understand what drives those other young men to react so aggressively.
"Always when I'm alone and they're usually in groups," he says. "It's often just calling me stuff, but sometimes bumping me."
They're full of anger, he believes, mainly because they hate their jobs, they have to travel for hours to get to work and know they'll never be able to afford much because Sydney is so expensive. It can't be personal.
"How lucky am I?" he acknowledges.
And sitting in Sony BMG's busy Sydney headquarters, it does seem a long way from Adelaide's northern suburbs, where only four years ago Guy was a student dropout, trying to think of a way to make money and still indulge his love of music.
MORE than 2000 hopefuls turned up to the first Australian Idol auditions in Adelaide in May 2003, among them 21-year-old Guy Sebastian and his friend Julie Egan.
It was Julie's idea. The two had become close after performing in a group at church and then as a duet. They'd had a teenage relationship and had reunited as good mates.
"She dragged me along," Guy recalls. "I just remember having the worst flu and the worst headache and I just wanted to leave."
By the end of the day, both had made the final cut to front the judges: outspoken record industry character Ian Dickson, former teen star Mark Holden and the motherly '70s queen of pop, Marcia Hines.
"Bed hair," Dicko grunted to Guy at first sight. "Electric socket," Guy shot back.
His performance reduced Hines to tears: "What a beautiful gift," she said.
"Times three," Holden added.
As Guy left the room, Dicko back-handed: "However, you look crap so we're going to have to work on that." To his fellow judges, he said: "That's a voice; that's the standard."
IN three years, Guy has become very aware of his image.
His watch is sheer bling, big and sparkly. There's the jewel in the nose, the snakeskin cowboy boots and spiffy jacket and cap.
Certainly more New York than Sydney and a whole world away from Adelaide. He's finally done what his mum Nellie begged him to do before that first Idol audition, and cropped the big hairdo.
She runs a tight ship, Nellie. Her four boys know that after church and family, education is the most important thing in life.
Brought up in India with a British background and orphaned at 16, Nellie became a kindergarten teacher before meeting geology student Ivan Sebastian. Ivan was Sri Lankan but living in Malaysia, where the two eventually settled with sons Ollie and Guy.
Two more sons arrived when they moved to Lilydale in Victoria, with Nellie holding fort while Ivan travelled for work. With regular trips to Moomba in far northern South Australia, he finally settled the family at Golden Grove, at the edge of Adelaide's northern suburbs.
Although both parents can sing, Guy says it was no Partridge Family or Jackson Five upbringing.
"It wasn't a totally musical household," he says.
"My Dad used to play the guitar and I didn't even know until only a while ago. I didn't know. He never used to pull out the guitar or anything and play for us, though Dad's side is the more musical."
As Nellie recalled in Guy's 2004 biography, her only public comment on the subject of her second son: "(Guy) was always screaming and singing.
"Sometimes I would literally have to say, `Guy, shut up!' He would be screaming and singing in the shower. He would be screaming and singing in the toilet. It didn't matter where he was. He would be singing even when he's got food in his mouth. We would be telling him, `Enough, be quiet'."
Guy was expected to satisfy his musical yearning at Paradise Community Church, a congregation of up to 5000 with cutting-edge television and music production facilities. It gave him the confidence to take to the stage at King's Baptist Grammar School, a Reception to Year 12 co-educational college at Wynn Vale, not too far from home.
"Someone had died and we sang that song One Sweet Day," he says. "When I looked up, heaps of people were crying. It was really weird. In school, that doesn't happen a lot.
"I was always a bit of clown, a bit of a lad. I had heaps of friends and I was always trying to be funny. Then when I got up and sang people were like, `What?'
"But they really liked it. That's when I started singing a lot."
A musical career wasn't an option. The boys learned instruments, sang at church, but they would study a profession at university, believed Nellie, because "it doesn't matter what you do in your life; it doesn't matter what career you head into, in Indian culture and Malaysian culture this is a number one priority".
Studying medical radiology "day after day, after day, Guy would go to uni and come back and we would see him very depressed", she said.
"There were times he would just sit with me and get teary. He started to do work at the hospital here, dealing with cancer patients. Guy really struggled looking at people in pain and suffering."
It was agreed Guy would take a year off. He explains: "I knew I needed to do music."
But he also needed to earn a living. He unloaded containers in a warehouse and cleaned toilets in a nursing home. And he approached schools to teach music – with no professional training and no knowledge of music theory.
"I'd never had a lesson before; I'd never had a piano lesson and I just got offered this position to teach about 30 students," he says.
"I knew how to sing but I didn't know what I was doing technically. I got on the internet and looked up all this stuff about techniques. So I kind of combined what I'd learned and what I had figured out myself in the shower.
"I ended up getting a cool kind of a system going where I would teach, I would write songs with my students. They would open up and write about their parents splitting up and how they felt, or about their grandparents dying, and we'd write all these songs.
"But singing is the best part of music. It's a total loss of reality. You lose yourself on stage.
"Who you are and what you do doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is music taking you over."
LEGEND has it that when Britain's most successful solo pop singer, Robbie Williams, first heard Australia's John Farnham, he was speechless – a big claim for the loud-mouthed performer.
It was the most perfect voice he had ever heard. Why was Farnham not a worldwide phenomenon?
The producer of Farnham's Whispering Jack album and an executive at Sony BMG, Ross Fraser, says Guy is a comparable talent.
As an Australian Idol winner, he receives a recording contract, an artist representation and management contract and a product sponsorship and endorsement contract.
"I met Guy in the first series of Idol and really got to know him when we made his first record together," Fraser says.
"We haven't sold a lot of records internationally yet, but he has a lot of respect – the kind of respect that John Farnham has internationally. I feel that same respect is also given to Guy – and that says a lot.
"He's an incredibly talented musician. He's not just a singer – he is a songwriter, piano player, guitarist, plus a great singer. He loves to arrange his own songs, too. He's just an allrounder and a very talented, unique musician."
It's an observation Guy would have appreciated about 18 months ago when the post-Idol baby-sitting services were reduced, and Guy was expected to take his first steps in a cut-throat industry. "If you let your guard down, someone else will come over the top of you," Fraser says.
"You're only as good as your last song, which needs to be followed by an album, which needs to be supported by live performances."
Desperate for a break and breathing space at the beginning of last year, Guy found himself with what he thought he needed: peace and quiet to get his thoughts in order and write a new album.
He wrote furiously for six months, and found himself climbing the walls with loneliness. He perservered: weren't artists supposed to suffer?
Guy says: "I wouldn't have given (music) up altogether, but in my mind I was close. I was writing and writing. I was trying so hard to make it happen and I was getting nothing. I didn't like any of it.
"Then you get down on yourself. It's a vicious circle when you lose self-confidence. You doubt yourself and then you listen to the voices of people you shouldn't be listening to. Mind you, there's a lot of those voices in my industry.
"You know, life had changed fairly drastically. I never analyse, so it got to a point where everything caught up with me, and I just kind of hit the wall.
"It would have been fine if I'd stayed in Adelaide because at least I'd have had the stability of having the back-up there.
"But suddenly it all happened and I moved to a place where there was nobody I knew, except industry people and people who seem to know you and people who you think genuinely like you and it turns out they don't."
FORMER Olympic swimmer Sarah Ryan was paired with Guy on the Seven Network's It Takes Two singing program earlier this year.
"It was an easy connection," Sarah says. "We're both from Adelaide. I'd grown up watching Australian Idol."
And Sarah had publicly spoken about her own battle with depression. She could appreciate what Guy was going through.
"There were a lot of similarities between us, especially when Guy was talking about his experience writing the album," she says. "Doing what we do, you've had to sacrifice a lot. You spend time with blinkers on, pursuing your goal. It's the pursuit to be perfect and do what you love."
During the telecast, Guy dedicated to Sarah and performed his first single since November, 2004: Taller, Faster, Stronger."The ideals are the same as Olympic ideals, so we had kind of discussed that," Sarah says.
"But he was really nervous, not confident about it at all. I knew he was having trouble that day. But he got up and gave me this dedication I wasn't expecting. And when he sang I realised, and he could see, what a lovely thing it was."
Guy remembers his performance as a watershed.
"It all came out." he says. "The last two years of work and stuff I'd been through and I was trembling and fighting back tears. Fighting."
After talking with Sarah, he believes he had been experiencing depression. "The difference with Sarah, with sports people, is to perform for your country, everyone loves you for it," he says.
"With me, it seems whatever I do, some people hate it. And there's nothing I can do about it."
"DON'T touch him, he's mine!" Guy has stolen a kiss from Julie Egan during a promotional appearance, to the wrath of a grown woman who's become over-excited in the largely female, largely pre-teen crush.
Julie has recently moved to Sydney and will be staying with a group of friends she knows through the church. She's studying fashion design – and trying to pursue her musical career.
Guy's sensitive to her ambitions, and understands why she hates joining him in public.
He attributes his rekindled enthusiasm for life to having Jules close by, and spending time with non-musical mentors such as former rugby league star Jason Stevens, who shares his Christian beliefs.
Stevens has just published a book Worth the wait: true love and why the sex is better and Guy is not ashamed to plug it.
"I never really questioned my faith at all (recently), although I did in my teenage years and wasn't really a Christian then; for me it was too complicated," he says.
"But I heard someone speak and it occurred to me that God isn't someone who tells you what to do or says you've got to live this way. He's just a mate who helps you through life.
"People have all these opinions about my lifestyle. I do drink. I love wine. The celibacy thing is self-control and it's just the way I've been brought up, and Jules and I have that in common."
However hard he denies it, there's no doubt Guy has toughened up. He puts it down to growing up – he'll turn 25 next week, coinciding with the launch of his third album and the subsequent hectic promotional tour.
Sydney will remain his base, but he's looking at moving closer to the city centre, where he's less likely to stand out and attract attention.
A few months ago, pundits were amazed to see Guy ringside at a professional boxing match.
"Yeah, well, that was part of me being big brother," he explains.
"I took the younger two. Chris is in Year 12, Jeremy's in Year 10. He's a boxer. He was a bit naughty and it's helped him to get focused and disciplined and it's not really a violent thing – it's more for fitness.
"But it's weird when you see your little brother in a ring. Mum hates it, of course.
"Chris is just a weedy little guy. But he can sing – he's the pick. Amazing. I don't know how he'd go in the industry.
"I guess I'm starting to understand a bit how a parent feels. I don't want him to go through what I've gone through. I'd smash them if they did that to him."
Guy stops, thinks about what he's saying. I'd smash them?
"Sometimes it just gets to you at a weak moment where you're just so tired," he says.
"Sometimes I'll go and do, say, a signing or I'll do a performance or I'll do a charity event and you spend a whole day and you're just giving, giving, giving.
"And after you've done that, someone really gets stuck into you and abuses you. You've got nothing left. It just gets you, grates you. I've stuck up for myself a few times."
Gentle Guy? "I don't want to be thick-skinned," he says. "Because that means you've hardened. Who wants to harden? That means you're not sensitive.
"OK, I have toughened up a bit – but not really, because it still gets to me. It's good that it gets to me.
"It's all experience, I guess. I can say now that I am a singer and songwriter. And singers and songwriters always feel like – I need to live more.
"So that's what I'm doing. Maturing, writing about it, singing about it. Evolving."