As our lives become more and more heavily integrated with technology, it seems the need becomes more and more dire to humanize it back. By the end of our daily sprinting through cyber fields of meme landmines, all we want is a real voice. Lucky for us, there's Alex Cameron.

The Australian duo—half Alex Cameron, half Roy Molloy—makes perfectly dark new-wave pop; Cameron leaping the fiery hoops of the frontman, and Molloy bringing up the underbelly beat on saxophone. But what really makes this project transcend is the performance that extends beyond the stage. Cameron and Molloy have an elaborate nature about them, bringing their audience into a more fully realized world, past the audio creaks and shivers of programmed beats (though those are good, too). Myspace spoke with the neo-crooner Cameron about his own battles with the online world and how to sing about what's hard to recognize.

Hometown: Sydney, Australia.

How did you and Roy meet?

I met Roy when he moved in two doors down in 1994. He was stuffing lemons into a street drain. A whole sack of lemons, one by one. Next memory we both agree on having together is a transvestite fairy at a kid's birthday party.

What are the influences for Alex Cameron?

You know I never had a Myspace. I was always on that MSN messenger chat device. I can still remember the sounds it'd make when I got a message, the little three tones and flashing tabs. Then one day the tones stopped, no one was around. They were on Myspace. I was so confused, I'd just go on other people's Myspaces and look at their little patch of internet slowly growing. I didn't get it. You see what I'm getting at here? I'm slow. I see things in slow motion. Which means I'm influenced by things slowly. So I get this weird porridge of influence. I don't see someone doing a thing, and want to do it myself. I'll take little things over time from a range of sources and end up somewhere else, preferably alone. Anyone who tells a story in their songs or has an interesting take on the English language has got my ears. Actually Billy Field. He's the guy you wanna look up.

Something immediate about this project is it seems to extend beyond music into a complete Alex Cameron world. People can get a sense of that through your consistently detailed posts on Facebook, but how does that translate in a live show?

The “Top Friends” thing on Myspace really rattled my bones as well. I got in so late that everyone had figured theirs out already. I didn't feel welcome. That's all I wanna be; calm and welcomed. Me n Roy want other people to feel that way as well. That's why we write on our internet pages, cause we got a lot to say, and you gotta humanize the web experience a little if you want people to feel welcome. Otherwise it's just auto-play videos and memes making fun of Americans. That shit isn't relatable. It's funny, and it's fast, but it doesn't make me feel like a person. Actually it gives me that sense of isolation like I could be the next one mocked for my loneliness. It's like advertising, memes have targets. We don't target people. We run a strict no judgement policy. You come to one of our shows you're gonna get the triple threat: Singin, Dancin and Alto saxophone. And you can damn well expect to feel welcome.

The Alex Cameron from Jumping The Shark was on the jaded end of the spectrum, disgruntled by showbiz and all its veins of failure and frustration. How does that compare to the Alex Cameron now?

I look back on those early internet days and I think about things like fear and hesitation and isolation. A big part of the reason I didn't get into Myspace was my own hesitance. I felt so comfortable online, then all of a sudden this new format came along and changed everything. I've had that feeling at different points in my life, and it tends to lead into a sense of self pity. Like, why did things have to change? Why did some kid with a laptop have to come a long and make a million bucks DJing, when I've been hacking away at this live thing for almost a decade? Why do I all of a sudden have the IBS? When I was a kid my stools were a A, B- at worst. Now they're just straight Fs. So these days I'm taking it one show at a time. One bowel movement at a time. One email at a time. Trying to control the
little things, instead of the big picture.

What's the inspiration behind “She's Mine”?

Hormonal, desperate men on the internet begging for a taste of something. I lived in the nightlife district of Sydney for five years. Lotta horny confused guys all flock to the same watering holes. I was trying to bottle the atmosphere of pride and shame all at once. Confused emotions and bruised egos. With the delicate nature of love, there's rarely any room for the oafish.

What's been something unexpected you've noticed about touring around the US?

The tumbleweed. I didn't know they could grow to be as big as a sedan. Me 'n' Roy were between Boulder and Omaha, and these giant tumblers were coasting across the highway like some great migration. Luckily we had the Cadillac, which is like a fishing boat out there. We just rolled right on by. The feller behind us with his kids in the back wasn't so lucky. Tumbleweeds explode when they hit cars, like a transformer in those movies. After that we hit a super storm and it rained for five hours straight. There was lightning that went from the ground up in cobwebs across the sky.

It seems like you've built a strong community of musicians here in the US, anything coming out right now that you'd suggest people check out (aside from your own album, of course)?

Kevin Morby just hit me for six over here in Europe. We played a few shows together. That's my favorite way to hear an act for the first time, after I've just warmed the stage up for 'em. I go straight out into the crowd to make sure I did my job. Then when good music starts playing it's like a little bonus. The feeling of dying goes away inside me for a second. Morby is a great songwriter.

As you prepare to release new music to a wide new audience, is there something you'd hope those listeners keep in mind or understand about this project?

I write stories. I enjoy playing with words. I take on characters that don't ordinarily get a voice in popular music and humanize them. I talk about failure and humiliation because the blues are about overcoming these things, not denying them. It's a confession for all the low down emotions we're taught to neglect. These emotions, and characters and people get pushed down to the bottom of the priority list because we'd like to forget that they exist. But that leads to a short memory. It's like just because you unsubscribed from your old classmate's ignorant Facebook feed doesn't mean it isn't there anymore. You don't fix a problem by muting it. Or just because you don't go into the dive bar doesn't mean it isn't popping off. Or just because you stopped going to your Myspace account doesn't mean the business isn't thriving and ready to make a comeback. It's about feeling deep regret and rising as a Phoenix from the burning, shark-like jaws of failure.