The Kransky Sisters are three oddball spinsters from rural Queensland who draw a cult following wherever they go.
On an old 60's reed keyboard, guitar, musical-saw, tuba, and cooking pot, these unworldly sisters offer their offbeat illuminations on what they hear on their wireless and see in the magazines.
Their unusual musical act draws on naivet'e, spinsterhood and the somewhat gothic existence that forms the world of three eccentric sisters. Every show throws up whole crowds of Kransky converts.
The Kransky Sisters venture out in the Morris once again from the intensely private world of their old family home in Esk, rural Queensland.
Set to raise bottoms off chairs with their uniquely homespun versions of popular tunes heard on the old wireless that provides their nightly entertainment.
Strange behaviour, blinkered outlooks, superbly droll comic dialogue, and alluring, downright hilarious brand of tune, all makes for a highly entertaining brew. This close-knit family of unlikely entertainers and their odd-ball music have warmed many hearts after their hit show.
The sisters are now looking forward to sharing their music with audiences further afield.
Kransky Sisters in conversation with Richard Fidler, ABC Radio Queensland
The Kransky sisters are true models of decorum in an increasingly vulgar world. They're three spinsters from the Queensland town of Esk who take pop songs by the Carpenters, AC/DC and Art Garfunkle and play them the way they were always meant to be played - with guitar, singing saw and tuba.
When they perform, they like to surround themselves with familiar things - if you see them performing on their upcoming world tour, you'll note that the Morris Minor they've driven from Esk will make its way onto the stage as well.
The do adore their small hometown. "It's nice," says Mourne Kransky. "It has a whole street of shops on both sides. And very nice people. Yes. We like the local newsagency, butcher... we get the free tripe on Fridays. We also have Esk Hair. We have our hair done there. We had a perm once."
"It was a mistake," Eve Kransky interjects severely.
The Kransky family has always lived in the same house at Esk. "We came when we were very, very young, to Australia, from Poland," Mourne says. "Our father was Polish and our mother English. We came here... our mother's brother's house in Esk was available and we lived there. Bellamy Ludby was our uncle."
"He died," Eve adds thoughtfully. "One of his appliances burst," explains Mourne. The Kranskys are an amazingly musical family. "We like to play the kitchen pot, the toilet brush, and a pantry shaker is nice too, makes a nice sound. We discovered all these sounds when Arva used to knock things over in the kitchen running for the eclairs," says Mourne, reflectively.
The Kranskys derive their inspiration from sitting at their quiet home in Esk. "We listen to the wireless," says Eve.
"Yes, yes, we've always listened to the wireless and we have many channels on the wireless," acknowledges Mourne. "The knob doesn's work so well sometimes, you can't see where it's going but it lands on nice places, and sometimes we hear modern songs."
"Like the acid fuelled imagining of Hunter S Thompson at a Country Women's Association meeting, this unstuck comic creation is bizarre and precious...These women are the comedic equivalent of Star Trek. So complete and meticulous is their creation, you can almost imagine a future of Kransky conventions." Helen Razer The Age
"Returning once again from their remote Queensland home, the Sisters are a frighteningly innovative trio. Armed with a tuba, ancient pink keyboard, folksy guitar and saw-violin, their renditions of tunes ranging from Pink Floyd to Jewel are effortlessly funny on their own.
"Bust-a-gut, shed-a-tear, sputteringly funny... Up there with Dame Edna... Don't even think about missing this show." Helen Razer,The Age. MICF
"as creepy as it is hilarious... and best of all, original. Could have watched them all night."
"Simply fantastic. Brooding, gothic and unhealthily co-dependent, the Kranskys are deservedly an institution." John Mangan, The Age