Cult Shφtta: Idiots of The Internet

Outside Sydney’s Goldsbrough Suites, Shφtta – one-half of Western Sydney-based rap duo Cult Shφtta – lights a cigarette. We are, of course, standing directly underneath the hotel's “No Smoking” sign.

Dressed in a red Ralph Lauren polo and leather pants, hair semi-spiked, fringe straightened, and ratty perfectly poking out to the side, you’d think he’d just stepped out from a 2007 underground rave.

“Fuck, this place is mad,” Shφtta told VICE, enthused by Sydney city’s old wool store-turned-hotel.

“It’s like a liminal space in there.”

Upstairs, we meet Lil Golo – the second half of Cult Shφtta. Golo sports a colourful star-patterned hoodie (worn open to reveal a “Call of Duty” logo tatted across his abdomen), wide-leg jeans and sneakers. The only abnormality from his regular getup is his hair. His signature devil horns drape lifelessly around his face like an overgrown fringe – waiting to be resurrected by copious amounts of gel, a blowdryer, and the hands of God (or, in this case, Shφtta).

This is the Cult Shφtta that over 500,000 people on TikTok follow, love and frantically praise. They’re cherished idiots whose “stupid as fuck” online antics, late 2000s-esque rave/rap/punk music and eclectic assortment of ripped jeans, Nike TNs, chains and Despicable Me minion t-shirts make them one of the internet’s most loved entities.

There aren’t many people these days who can:
1) look and speak the way they do
2) post objectively dumb shit online and
3) be adored for it.

For that reason, some might say I stand in the presence of internet greatness. But outside of the TikToks, loud outfits, and Bam Margera collaborations, Cult Shφtta is just two cool, calm, humble guys from the West of Sydney.

Raised on the uncensored era of the internet, Cult Shφtta’s aesthetic can be narrowed down to the party period of the 2000s when wearing fluro was the hot trend, everyone had those Kanye West Venetian-blind glasses, and the social media before social media site, Bebo, was still alive.

“My Bebo was just skuxx era big time,” Shotta told VICE. “But I was more like a Bestgore, weirdo Internet user. I was one of those freaks.”

The boys say they use their phones for an average of 8 to 10 hours a day, which is neither unreal nor surprising in the current climate of DIY creatives and online virality. At the end of the day, a big part of their income lies in the palm of their hands.

“That’s how we get paid. We all need the internet.” Golo says.

“It’s either you go ten toes on the net, or you’re like living on a farm, solar, vegan – just like a full sick cunt,” Shotta adds.

“Doomsday, apocalypse type of guy.”

While Shφtta admits that part of him wants to reach the point of off-grid living one day, riding out the rest of this monstrous wave he and Golo have conjured up remains their sole focus. But the future isn’t entirely obvious. At one point in our conversation, Golo’s devil horns have almost reached a state of completion into full “Super Saiyan” spikes, when Shφtta muses on what’s next. “Nothing matters, to be honest. Who gives a fuck?”. Golo, quiet and sitting blissfully unaware under the blasting noise of the hairdryer, would probably agree.

Cult Shφtta aren’t exactly the kind of people who think themselves into a hole about their careers' future. They’re not the kind of people who second-guess, doubt themselves, or dwell on adversity.

Their real thoughts on the future are endearing, boyish and authentic.

“I’ll be an old cunt by then, but hopefully, I’ll be way more swole,” Shφtta said.

Golo takes a pause to think. “I’ll probably quit porn,” he says. “Because I reckon this music stuff will pop off.”

Cult Shφtta will be performing for Vivid Sydney at the Sydney Opera House on Thursday May 30. Tickets are available here.

Adele is the Junior Writer & Producer for VICE AU/NZ. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter here.

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