“To know the extent of Jonny Telafone's derangement, you need a glimpse of the Canberra-to-Melbourne transplant's live show. He chugs a couple pints, tears off his shirt as if it were his skin, holds his fists up in the air, and proclaims that after the set, all will cease to exist. He evokes not a drawn-out apocalyptic disaster, but an instant Rapture, without the promise of salvation. Everything ”
