PREMIERE: Filthy McNasty’s – Scum (Dir. Tilka Biasion & Perin)
What do a dirty drag king politician, grassroots mobilisation, and a taste of sweet revenge have in common? In their playful, staunch, and campy new music video for ‘Scum‘, Filthy McNasty’s have had a gutful, they’re coming for the elites and they want you to join the fight! The Naarm‑based, femme‑led four‑piece are rallying their community, issuing a call to action against settler-colonial leadership and government policies that, in their own words, are “seriously fucking us all to varying degrees.” ‘Scum’ is a furious yet joyful call to arms – an ode to punk, community spirit, and the DIY ethos.
‘Scum’ erupts with the raw fury at a system rigged against the most oppressed, channeling collective rage into a vibrant act of resistance. The video opens in the band’s home, with the lead singer switching on the television to find a grotesque political drag caricature – a Pauline Pantsdown-esque figure – gleefully ticking off a to-do list of colonial crimes: stealing land, stealing kids, polluting the earth, lying, killing, and upholding white supremacy. Shot with gritty, hand‑held intimacy, the camera roves between the band and scenes of community action, blurring the line between art and uprising. The lyrics and visuals form a collective call to arms, urging those most impacted by these policies to join the fight. But this ethos of solidarity wasn’t just on screen. Filmmakers Tilka Biasion and Perin say their vision was to depict unity across the working class while grounding their politics firmly in First Nations leadership and self-determination. The production itself came to life through the help of friends who donated skills, time, and resources, as detailed by lead singer and co-director Tilka:
In an era of glossy, high-budget music videos, Filthy McNasty’s have consciously chosen to stick to their guns proving that authenticity and collective creativity can outshine production sheen any day. In the video, the band – along with those who join them along the way – gradually becomes an army of working‑class resisters, donning balaclavas, arming themselves with forks, hockey sticks, crowbars and boxing gloves, ready to fight back. The camera captures close‑ups of fury and defiance, as the band charges toward the lens, shouting along to razorsharp lyrics – including the biting line, “you don’t deserve another breath, but you don’t deserve to die either!” – aimed squarely at the politicians in their crosshairs:
“There’s no hiding behind nice cinematography. We had a story to tell and a vision of how to tell it. Legitimately no shade, but I think it’s boring to see the only bands getting big be backed by major labels or have nepotism vibes. The process of bringing everyone together, asking for help and bringing to life something that started just as an idea is also similar to the process of revolutionary organising that the video depicts, although obviously lower risk. It’s laborious but you’d be surprised what you can make happen!”
While many might cower to the limitations of a no‑budget production, the band transformed constraint into creativity. Every challenge became an opportunity to experiment and improvise, embodying the true punk spirit that fuels both their music and politics – a testament to the band’s resourcefulness and their ability to turn limited means into bold visual storytelling. The band charges to the subhuman supreme leader’s place of residence, as we watch him fumble with his phone. Upon realising that he cannot escape the angry mob beneath him, our cartoonishly corrupt, overzealous politician is captured and tied up, sent to the sewers – or literal scum – where he belongs. Every improvised decision, from handheld shots to on‑the‑fly direction, adds to the video’s raw energy and sense of collective effort:
“We started off by doing a lot of storyboards, about three sessions with the two of us before starting to organise shooting, which helped a lot with both directing and shooting. Perin helped a lot with the technical side of things; experimenting with framing to make the shots look clean and breaking up the angles. A lot of my directing was queueing people off camera, especially Izi, and shouting things to evoke emotion which was pretty funny. Elijah from the band also shot the end POV shot of approaching ‘the politician’ in the tunnel and also came up with the POV shot of us all skipping around ‘the politician’ with rope as we were tying him up.”
The visuals pop with a ferocity both wickedly humorous and devilishly camp. The aesthetics draw from queer performance traditions and cult film imagery, such as the legendary psychobilly punk band, The Cramps. Rooted in the legacy of queercore – a subcultural movement that emerged in the 1980s as an offshoot of punk – this music video channels the scene’s defiant DIY spirit, which challenged both mainstream heteronormative culture and the homophobic, racist and sexist attitudes that existed within pockets of the hardcore and punk scenes. The relationship between queer expression and punk philosophy becomes the video’s heartbeat, transforming humour and excess into a form of political resistance. As for the campiness? “… it came naturally to us as queer femmes,” Tilka and Perin explain:
“Everything I do has some campiness to it so we wanted to display that in the aesthetic! We were originally going to get a real middle-aged man to play the politician but having Izi do it in drag turned out to be a great decision, her acting was so over the top and perfect for the character. The drag king make-up done by Perin was inspired by traditional drag-king make-up that was trailblazed by queer people, trans people and people of colour. I was also inspired by the campiness in The Cramps’ film clips such as “Creature from the Black Leather Lagoon.” It was very fun to collab with [the] initial vision that I resonated with and felt so familiar in terms of femme punk motifs and stories, so riffing off each other was really easy, and everything else just felt really easy because everyone’s on the same page in terms of a political purpose and attitude – which is all directly held together by the premise of the song – which I would usually be fangirling over. And shooting and doing everything with a DIY punk philosophy really made everything fun and smooth even if there were areas I was unsure about it all fell into place.”
The camaraderie taking place behind‑the‑scenes was vital to the project as the music video itself. Using borrowed gear, makeshift editing setups, and collaborative workmanship with friends was no small feat, with the filmmakers and band tackling new roles and challenges as the project came to fruition. Not only does “Scum” showcase technical perseverance, but also the warmth and mutual support that define the band’s community in the Brunswick area, where much of it was filmed. While the video was jointly directed by Tilka and Perin, the latter also served as cinematographer, with editing by Tilka and Emma Salmon.
“The video was shot on a Canon R8 that Perin bought with her scholarship! I scouted locations while driving around Brunswick, and we also just shot at friends’ places. It was edited on Premiere Pro mostly by me, Tilka, which is not my area of expertise, although it is slightly similar to editing music on Logic. I put everything where it needed to go despite some technical difficulties (big shoutout to my bestie Lyric for lending me their computer and monitor), and then we recruited the assistance of the wonderful Emma Salmon for the finishing touches, colour grading, captions and credits.”
For all the music video’s energy and gusto, the track draws on the band’s firsthand experiences of the very real and very devastating environmental destruction caused by the 2022 Northern NSW floods and the 2019 bushfires. More importantly, it was written in solidarity with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. Grassroots-led initiatives have been fundamental to the band’s politics and creative journey, shaping both their message and their method. In this sense, the song becomes more than an expression of anger or grief – it’s a call for justice. By amplifying the voices often ignored in the mainstream political movement, the song transforms personal experience into a political statement, connecting the band’s lived reality to a broader struggle for climate justice and First Nations sovereignty:
“The song was initially written after the Northern NSW floods in 2022. My mother’s house got hit pretty badly and there was a lot of damage all round, mostly in Lismore which is where the rest of the band grew up, and in parts of Ocean Shores which is where my mum lived. The memory of the 2019 bushfires was also very fresh and these “natural” disasters that are a direct result of colonisation and government policy that favours the rich and has no regard for Country ignited a rage in me that this song came from. I would also like to add that I am a coloniser on these lands and this message is in solidarity with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples and the constant struggle to protect their Countries. The line “more dumb and shameless every day” also reflects that the government literally passes and worsens the most appalling fascist policies almost every day that result in the mass destruction of land, torturing and killing children and adults, surveillance and poverty. The only solution is returning Land Back to the care of First Peoples.”
Yet, Filthy McNasty’s message goes beyond cathartic anger – it’s a reminder that resistance is a shared act of courage. The band wants listeners to recognise their power and get involved in community action. “Everything we do as colonisers needs to back First Peoples,” Talk says. They name campaigns such as Protect Larrakia Country, Seed Mob’s anti-fracking efforts, Djirra Vic, Sisters Inside, and the Black Peoples Union as examples of grassroots leadership worth supporting. She calls on white allies to speak up, redistribute money, and join grassroots movements rather than wait for institutions to change themselves:
“The sentiment of the song is firstly accepting that the leaders of this so-called nation are truly the absolute scum of the earth. As (First Nations leader) Keiran Assheton-Stewart said, we need to treat Albo like we treated Isaac Herzog while he came here. “Australia” has such a sinister and insidious way of normalising its atrocities. Secondly, everything we do as colonisers needs to be backing and listening to First Peoples. Our ideas about what should happen aren’t important. Use your privilege; if you’re able bodied, get strong, get fit and learn how to fight/ get involved in Direct Action. If you’re white, speak up about things that people of the global majority are getting censored and arrested for. Redistribute any money you can so that others can survive. Give up some comfort before it’s all stripped from you anyway, self-reflect, do the inner and outer work, and look after the people around you. There’s so many grassroots Aboriginal led campaigns and organisations to get behind, it’s also important to know what’s happening on (the) Country you’re on.”
The band have also included a list of petitions and resources to donate to below:
Petitions:
https://act.350.org.au/petitions/protect-darwin-harbour-protect-our-culture-protect-our-future
https://seed-omega-ivory.vercel.app/don-t-frack-the-kimberley
Pay the Rent:
https://www.blackpeoplesunion.org/donate
https://chuffed.org/project/106310-protect-googatha-mula-country
Here is the official video for “Scum“
Music Video Credits
Directed by: Tilka Biasion & Perin. Cinematography: Perin. Editing: Tilka & Emma Salmon. Starring: Filthy McNasty’s Tilka Biasion, Elijah Wraight, Carlo Fisher and Hayden Nevins. AND Isabella Ramage as ‘the politician’. Also starring: Lalatuai Grogan, Harry Adnam, Taylor Kane, Cale Cowie and Francis Butler. Location: shot and edited on the unceded Land of the Wurundjeri Woi Wurrung People. Songwriter: Tilka Biasion. Song performed by: Filthy McNasty’s. Song recorded, mixed & mastered: Carlo Fisher.
