Yev Kassem is a force to be reckoned with. A preternatural being of purely divine power. A man of mythical status among friends and foes alike, though he has only a handful of either.

Yev can ride his Norco (Indie 2) pushbike from Merewether to Mayfield in less than ten minutes and hardly even break a sweat. His pop sensibilities are unbridled and unrivalled.

He can lift a Commodore station wagon, carrying a three-piece indie rock band (backline included), over his head while simultaneously cajoling extra drink cards out of the gruffest bar manager.

He once caught the wave of the day out the front of Carpenter Court, rode it all the way into shore until he hit the sand running, sprinted past the Beaches and down Ridge Street to the bakery where he ordered a salad sandwich (extra salt and pepper), and finished it as he ran back to the water in time for the very next set upon which he got a very deep and hollow barrel.

Yev Kassem only takes cold showers, even on the saddest nights of July.

His album, Joy Is A House Made Out Of Tears, is a postmodern comedy-drama precariously perched somewhere between the mundane and the miraculous. It encompasses entities, places and events that appear to exist outside the scope of the generally accepted laws of nature. Warm, tender and devasating, JIAHMOOT is a bold work of compassion and fragility.