Ella Hooper was just 13 when she and her older brother, Jesse, formed the band Killing Heidi. And she was just 17 when the group released their debut album, Reflector. It was a smash hit that swiftly wrote itself into the Australian pop culture canon – the single Mascara went to No 1 and Weir became an indispensable part of the Looking for Alibrandi soundtrack.
The two Hoopers spent a decade rocking dreadlocks and releasing music in Killing Heidi. After three albums, the group disbanded in 2006 and Ella embarked on a solo career. She has since released two LPs of her own. Her trusty acoustic guitar, which she has had since her eventful teen years, still accompanies her on tour. Here, the musician tells us how that instrument changed the course of her life, and shares the stories of two other important belongings.
What I’d save from my house in a fire
My acoustic guitar. It was gifted to me by Maton – a staple of Australian music, the favourite brand of Tommy Emmanuel himself – when I was 18.
I’d tinkered with guitar as a kid, as Mum could play and had a beautiful nylon string that she’d teach us the basics on. But Jesse was the real guitarist of the household and for years his prodigious talent for the instrument (he could play Jimi Hendrix riffs behind his head at 12) stopped me from taking it more seriously. It was his thing – he played and I sang. Until this Maton landed in my life. It unlocked something in me. Self-expression flowed, songcraft came into focus and my own idiosyncratic style of playing and writing developed. I felt there were songs in her, waiting to get out.
I sometimes gender my guitar as female and call her “Little Lady”. Like me, Little Lady is snack-sized. At three-quarter scale she’s not quite a mini, but small for sure. Her tone is comforting and present, like the voice of an easygoing friend. Twenty-three years on and she’s still my go-to. She’s the one non-human thing I would be pretty devastated to lose from my life.
My most useful object
If you, like me, laugh at the suggestion of adding a clove of garlic to a recipe (a single clove? Try a single head!), then this is for you. It’s my Swiss-made Kuhn Rikon garlic crusher.
The slang term “crushing it” has never been so fitting. Beautiful, weighty, it feels amazing in your hand and employs the level of design and effectiveness the Swiss are famous for. Not one bit of garlic, even those old bendy straggler cloves, doesn’t turn into instant mince when you clench this contraption. It has a swing open mechanism where the usually tricky bit of getting any remains out is avoided, as the whole thing opens up like a beautiful brushed metal flower, then folds back together to crush another day.
It’s not cheap, but so worth it. A bit of a kitchen “if you know you know”, it is to the second draw down what Stephanie Alexander’s The Cook’s Companion is to cookbooks – a real level-up.
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The item I most regret losing
I am famously bad at holding on to things, so it’s more a case of what haven’t I lost that I regret!
One that comes to mind is the top half of a beautiful custom-embroidered suit that my dear friend and collaborator Jeremy had made for me on a life-changing trip to Nashville in 2019. He got it made by RoseCut Clothing, who are the tailors of choice to the next generation of Americana and country artists taking over the world. It was a bedazzled burgundy suit, adorned with native flowers from my home state of Victoria. I wore it proudly on that trip and many times after.
One evening, while catching up with Jeremy back in Australia, I somehow went home from a late-night hotel hang without the jacket. It was sometime before I retraced my steps and called their concierge. Alas, it was gone. I don’t blame anyone for pinching that glorious jacket. I know I would too if I saw it languishing. Still, it stung.
However, I am planning on getting it remade when I head to Nashville soon. Occasionally I can right the wrongs of my own goofy-headedness and resurrect something precious that I’ve lost, and I’m so grateful this is one.