The Stone Roses: live in Melbourne, 2013

Venue: Festival Hall
Date: 07/03/2013

For their sideshow in the 'Manchester of Australia' – as Mani once lovingly dubbed Melbourne - Stone Roses demonstrated that when they're good, they are very fucking good indeed. It's widely known that the lads have a patchy past in terms of pulling off great live shows, but that along with their music in general seems to be a thing of the past. It isn't terribly surprising that there is no new music from the band tonight, but at one stage during his almost flawless performance, Ian Brown hints at a future for the Stone Roses beyond the current reunion gigs.

Re-emerging in late 2011 to tour was a great move considering how closely guarded a secret it was that the band were even on speaking terms again, but Ian mentioning possible new songs without presenting any comes off as a bit of a bluff. Not that anybody could complain about the almost 20 year-old setlist which ignores most of The Second Coming in favour of that album. As debuts go, The Stone Roses simply could not be beaten. Not even by The Stones Roses themselves in fact. What is interesting though is how each song from the album performed is so very different to anything that did not make the cut. Early singles like Sally Cinnamon and several of the b-side tracks performed are all distinct in that they don't quite have the same magic as the material off the album. Of course there is one colossal exception to this rule. Nobody here at Festy tonight could argue that Fools Gold – a song they initially threw away as a freakin' b-side – was not the absolute highlight.

Fools Gold the song is of course great and was the band's most successful track, but live in concert, it is a whole other level of genius. It begins with Reni teasing us with a few pitchy cymbal smacks while Mani plucks out a slightly menacing, fat bass line which he maintains for the entire 13 minutes. Then, when John Squire begins the hook that kicked off Madchester and the whole rave-rock shebang, the crowd completely lose it. Why this song works so well live is because of the  combo of Mani and Reni as a rhythm section, but there's also much to love about Squire's unpredictable guitar playing and the soft echo of Brown's voice, surfacing occasionally in the mix. It's a cliché, but this really was Stone Roses at their most untouchable. So they serve up their 'it's funk Jim, but not as we know it' monster half way though the set tonight, leaving many here wondering just what they must be planning for an encore. But then, the answer could be found all along written on the back of The Stone Roses album sleeve.

Opening the show with I Wanna Be Adored – just as the debut album began – sets up a kind of 'running order' formula they only occasionally divert from. Ten Storey Love Song from The Second Coming is the first real shift, and while it isn't a bad tune, it's no Love Spreads. The strongest cut from the 'difficult second album' heralds one hell of a hit-fest. She Bangs The Drums – a song that too often fails in a live setting, emerges as one of the strongest tonight as it leaps out at us with every gun blazing and is rewarded with the biggest sing-a-long moment. This Is The One stands out as the  'one that really should have been a hit', and Brown is completely loving the all arms raised crowd response. It should be noted that a lot goes on around Ian during the gig and he makes for fascinating viewing. The expression 'calm like a bomb' comes to mind as he does his famous monkey shuffle dance, elbows stuck out horizontally as he bobs his head and glares out into the crowd. One moment he is almost whispering a trance-like mantra, the next he's inaudibly blasting a sound tech or hurling a full rubbish bin off stage at a security bloke for getting too physical with one of the fans.


Meanwhile, Mani – usually the mouthy one – remains the very picture of blissed out concentration, while Squire refuses to even look up from his shoes. Drummer Reni on the other hand is starring in his own movie up there behind his kit, which is adorned in 'Roses-esque lemon slices. It's quite telling how the band members' each seem so lost in their own worlds during the show. Their tense interpersonal relations have surely healed over time, but perhaps not entirely. There is a definite sense of 'we're back together because of the music', which they show absolute solidarity in.

Tonight, it was a very different Stone Roses to the band who were booed off stage at Reading in 1996 and quickly dissolved in a whimper. The reunion shows have clearly been a chance for the Roses to not only bury a few hatchets but also to change the history book entry on a band that seemed so vital before success ultimately dug them an early grave. But here at one of the most unlikely reunion concerts ever, Stone Roses conclude their set with a song almost perfectly designed for such an occasion - I Am the Resurrection. It is a triumph and it, along with nearly every song that preceded it, proves that they had never really lost 'it'. There is no encore as the work had all been done by the finish of Resurrection. Instead they close the show with group hug, a bow and a shower of praise for all who'd stuck by them. For us fans it's been a long and unlikely wait for tonight, but nobody who turned up to Festy Hall could claim it wasn't all worth it.

lEIGh5
 

FESTIVAL HALL SET-LIST (07/03/13)

I Wanna Be Adored
Mersey Paradise
Sugar Spun Sister
Sally Cinnamon
Ten Storey Love Song
Where Angels Play
Shoot You Down
Fools Gold
Waterfall
Don't Stop
Made Of Stone
This Is The One
Love Spreads
She Bangs The Drums
I Am The Resurrection
 

Meeting John Squire!

Gillian Gilbert (New Order) interview: 2012

RE-NEWED ENERGY

Gillian Gilbert is at the Macclesfield country home she shares with husband/New Order drummer, Stephen Morris when I phone. She immediately slips into a relaxed chatty mode, happy to discuss New Order’s past, present and future – after all, it’s been a long time since any typical band activities – rehearsals, touring, international press, New Order itself, have encroached on the keyboardist’s life. The 32nd inconsistent year of the iconic band’s existence is upon us, and Gillian, as with each member at some point or other, is a little surprised to be back. “You just never know with us what to expect, really.” She understates. However, New Order’s latest reunion is a very different story to previous times. The silence that followed the band’s last album - 2005’s Waiting For The Siren’s Call - was broken by a statement in 2007 - apparently from within the group’s ranks – that New Order were ‘no more, and never likely to be again’.

New Order, 1980

However that announcement, which was made by (now ex) bassist Peter Hook, was news to his band-mates, as it turned out, he was the only one at that particular meeting. This ultimately proved to be Hook's first action in a mounting slash-n-burn of his own legacy. His subsequent plundering of Joy Division’s back catalogue and threats of legal action against the remainder of New Order (for using the name without his involvement) are now matters for the public to cast opinion on, but New Order’s surprise return in late 2011 - excluding Hook - implies a solidarity within the group still exists and is willed to power in even the roughest of times. But then their name always did suggest 'purposeful leadership' - along with vaguely hierarchical connotations - which all seemed very cocky considering they essentially began in 1980 as 'Joy Division; minus the popular singer'. As New Order, they chose a new lead singer basically on the flip of a coin, and for a time nobody in their right mind would have bet on a future for the band. Perhaps though, it’s that ‘unlikely rise’ from potential post-Ian Curtis obscurity that formed the catalyst for New Order’s ‘survive anything’ mentality. Few bands after all have endured their level of disharmony from outside and within their own ranks, so it’s not such a surprise, that in the wake of a very public battle with Hook, their passion has again beaten their hate.

Bernard Sumner, Gillian Gilbert and Steven Morris re-united as New Order last year with a new bassist Tom Chapman and second guitarist Phil Cunningham. On the eve of their first Australian visit with the new line-up - and with no new album to promote – Gillian surely speaks for the whole band when she says that this reunion was a more ‘tentative one’ than previous times. “We didn’t really know how it (touring a new line-up) was going be received by the New Order fans, or if the interest would even still be there. But we have come to think of this time as like a new beginning, really.” The first New Order show without Hook was intended as a one-off benefit gig for long-time friend of New Order’s, Michael Shamberg – a film producer responsible for the bulk of New Order’s stylish and surreal music videos - who became terminally ill. It was also the first show to feature Gillian back behind the keyboard following her indefinite departure in 2000 to look after her sick daughter, “I missed just being with everybody.” She recalls, “It took me a long time to get used to not being in New Order.” The line-up was completed by members of Sumner’s other band, Bad Lieutenant but the obvious Hook-shaped hole in the band raised potential problems for the long term.

Performing Blue Monday on TOTP, '83.

“We were quite scared about doing a fully fledged tour with new band members, because we had to of course work out if Tom could cope with such a big part to play.” Gillian offers, “So instead of barging back into the spotlight as it were, and announcing some big ‘come-back‘ tour, we took small steps.” Tom Chapman will inevitably be compared to Hook at every show on the tour but, Gillian notes, it’s wrong to assume he’s merely imitating. “Tom isn’t copying Hooky, he has his own style of playing. Tom wasn’t there when we recorded those songs, and so it stands to reason that he hears them differently to Hooky and has his own take on them.” New member’s aside, the current New Order live show reflects on the band’s past now more than ever, and the visual identity created around New Order’s music. Gilbert explains, “In the past it was always about touring to promote a new album or whatever, but preparing for Michael Shamberg’s benefit concert, forced us to listen to a lot of our older material – some of which we haven’t played live since the ‘80s – and create a set list to go along with a lot of the videos he produced.” Those videos, including Blue Monday’s oddly posed dogs, Bizarre Love Triangle’s falling suited men and True Faith’s mime artists gone feral are images as iconic as the songs themselves, Gillian agrees.

                                                  the classic 'True Faith' video

“I’ve always loved what Michael did with True Faith especially.” The video, which features costumed dancers performing increasingly violent, synchronised routines, thinly hides the band’s most overt drug-referencing in a song.  True Faith – the song and video - was one of the first to drag underground club culture into the mainstream, where it was immediately deemed ‘unsavory’. “I remember Radio One refused to play it unless we changed some of the words.” The original lyric “Now that we’ve grown up together/they’re all taking drugs with me” was tamed down to “Now that we’ve grown up together/they’re afraid of what they see”. “It was never about promoting, or glamorising anything though,” Gillian adds, “Meanwhile, nearly every song on the radio now it seems, is loaded with drug references, only it doesn’t seem to be an issue anymore. Is it shock for the sake of shock value? Yes, I think so.” And if any band should know, it’s New Order. 

Keyboardist Gilbert, also
occasionally played guitar in NO.

Madchester, Baggy, Acid House, and a slew of other music/drug-related sub-cultures have all been credited to New Order’s influence on music, but a scene was already in the making, born from a rapid rise in street-level music creation and a potentially destructive new wave of party drugs. New Order simply provided the best possible soundtrack for whether you were going out, or coming down. The scene bloomed within the well documented home of Tony Wilson’s Factory label and Hacienda nightclub, but many of the bands and many more of the drugs ultimately proved bigger than either business. New Order survived Factory, but only just. To recoup some of their lost earnings, the band reconvened in 1990, “for what we thought would be one last time”, to record the official World Cup anthem – World In Motion. In a bittersweet twist, the song hit number one at the same time New Order were broke, disbanded and had little hope of a future. “It was encouraging having a number one single, yeah, but really we did that record as a commercial venture because we were in trouble financially.” Gillian confirms, “Steven (Morris) had the idea to do it, and just because we knew it would be used by all the TV stations broadcasting the World Cup, we all agreed. It was one of the few financially smart things we did as a band.” Its romantic to think the band keep New Order going for ‘love not money’, and although Hooky is the current bug in the band’s ointment, their instability had begun long ago as a result of bad business. It’s often downplayed for the sake of a good mud-slinging story, but Factory crashed during the making of New Order’s then come-back album, 1993’s Republic which ended the band’s tolerance for the industry for many years. Regarding the band's future plans however, Gillian can only offer her personal wishes.

“I would like to finish this tour, take a short break and then see what the future brings. We don’t have plans beyond these shows right now, but that can be an exciting prospect as well." She ads, "I don't think we will be recording a full album again, but I'd like to do an E.P. perhaps. We always had singles that weren't on albums in the past, so I think an E.P. would be a good compromise of those two things." As for the recent history in which ties between New Order's and Hook have seemingly been cut for good, Gillian concludes, "Many things way out of our control have slowed us down over the years, but… I think, in a way, the band is bigger than us as individuals, which makes it easier to carry on in the face of… whatever the universe can throw at us. I think with this group getting back together, we knew there would be battles (Hook) to get through, but in New Order, that’s just how we play."

lEIGh5

 


























The 'Low Life' album and tour was unusual in that it was the one and only time the band's images were used in the promotional artwork.

Lou Rhodes (Lamb) interview: 2011

FRIENDLY WITH FIVE

Manchester duo, Lamb were written off by just about everyone – including themselves – come the middle of the last decade. Following a short-lived peek into world-wide success at the end of the ‘90s, vocalist Lou Rhodes and musician Andy Barlow, began to fall out of love with the music once it became a pressure game of commerce and repetition. However, a core of devoted fans had the foresight to not give up on the pair and this year, their devotion has finally paid off – although at a price. Lamb, embracing a little numerology, not to mention some grass roots marketing, announced their long awaited fifth album, 5, funded entirely by fan pre-orders. It may seem a long way from the runaway success of 1997 single Gorecki, but as Lou Rhodes points out, with fans like theirs, who needs labels?

“The scary bit was selling something that we hadn’t even made, so you’re asking for quite a leap of faith from people, you know.” Rhodes begins. “But then, I think it’s a great basis for a creative endeavor. That desire to make something that we felt truly proud of was stronger than ever." Lou explains, “We were making an album for the first time ever with absolutely no funding from some nervous corporation looking for big hits, as was our experience in the past, which definitely had an effect on the music.” After what began as a four-date tour in early 2010, which then grew into months of advance bookings, Lamb were approached to do a short Australian tour in February his year. It was at these shows that for the first time in seven years, their set included brand new music.

“When we were asked to do those shows in Australia, we panicked a bit because we hadn’t even finished the record, but actually it turned out to be a good opportunity to see how well the new tracks worked along side our older stuff. We ended up premiering only four new songs, but that really was the acid test we needed to say what was working and what needed to change.” She continues, “The songs do metamorphose whenever you play them live, so it was important to let the new ones begin their journey of tweak and change.” Rhodes laughs gently. “The process of playing new songs live is like a game of Chinese whispers. You have a blueprint, and you think you know what the outcome will be, but little surprises always emerge in the actual telling.” She adds, “I’d really like to do that a lot more, because the problem with being in the studio, is you usually finish an album and then go on tour and that’s when this kind of growth happens within the songs, but by then it’s too late.” Already 5’s mini road test has Rhodes rethinking the band’s future performances.

“In the past we had always kept in mind what we were going to play live and how, and it was never more than half the record, but with 5, we found that we couldn’t decide what not to play. At this stage we’re doing eight out of the ten songs and we’d like to work in the other two at some point because it works so well in its complete form.” Rhodes adds that she has always struggled with the concept albums judged only by the singles – no doubt a concern that has sprung from personal experience. Lamb’s mammoth hit, Gorecki from their self-titled debut, although rewarding the band with obscene levels of exposure, also bought with it ‘unreasonable expectations’. While recording their second album, Fear Of Fours, the inevitable pressure of matching that song’s success was applied to the duo by their label, causing Rhodes to remark following their split in 2004, Lamb had long felt restricted by what was expected of them. “It was always tough for me to see Lamb as a singles band, because I don’t really listen to very much commercial music or even claim to know how to make ‘hit singles’ on command.” Lou retorts. “In the old days we had to endure conversations that went like, ‘can you sound a bit more like Bis, because they’re selling a lot of records at the moment’, which was quite soul destroying for us.” Lamb released three more albums over the next seven years before acrimoniously splitting. It wasn’t until Lou Rhodes was recording her third solo album One Good Thing in 2009 that she and Andy’s reunion occurred. “I was looking for somebody to produce my album and Andy just said, why not him!” At their rather organic reunion, creative sparks soon began to fly and Lamb’s future was decided on – only with a few clear changes to be made.

“When we decided we were going to make another record, Andy and I had a very honest conversation about what Lamb should and should not be about.” Rhodes explains, “I felt that I had compromised quite a lot on some of our albums and we kind of lost something along the way, but this time we agreed to keep it raw and just gently add to the songs as they needed, like we did on our first record. Also it was really important for us to not overproduce this album. I mean all up it only took five months to make which was very, very quick for Lamb.” Rhodes’ words are suggestive of somebody running from their past mistakes, but Lamb were always spared the often harsh criticisms of the UK press usually reserved for non three-chord rock bands. One doesn’t have to dig very far to then to see Lamb are in fact their own strongest critics, and although many band’s have long lulls following initial peaks, few return with their shit so fully together as they have. Lou reflects on what the refreshed Lamb we hear on 5 was bringing to the come-back party, and some of what was quite cheerfully thrown out.

“I’m a great believer in your first idea is probably your best before the ego kicks in and says oh but why not add this and add that, but simplicity was definitely the key in this case.” She points out, “Also I think for me as a vocalist, too many times on previous albums, my voice had been extremely processed, or rather I was affecting it in certain ways, feeling that I needed to be something that I wasn’t. But having that time off and doing my acoustic albums gave me a chance to let my voice grow and I allowed myself to get comfortable again as a singer.” Rhodes naturally understates her sensational talent as a singer, but evidenced particularly by the tracks She Walks and Wise Enough, is an artist shaking off self-doubt and indulging her love of singing. Lamb’s new-found confidence doesn’t end there, either. Album closer, Existential Itch is a brilliantly executed reminder that in today’s self-absorbed world, we can easily forget that the human experience is a shared one. Lou divulges,

“That song kind of sums up a lot of the record and going through this period of questioning everything I had once believed in. Not just with music, but life in general which I think most of us go through at some point.” She adds, “With the title, I thought existential crisis seemed too strong a word because what I was going through seemed quite natural in a way. I think the word crisis carries the wrong implication, or at least I didn’t see it as a crisis personally, I recognised that it was a much needed time of learning.”

lEIGh5

Ah, the gorgeous Lou and Andy... You know, I never made the Little Britain connection until I transcribed the interview... !!

EPK on Lamb recording their beautiful new album, "5".

Mani (Primal Scream) interview: 2011

COCKED AND RE-LOADED

Whether it's a public image he's created or just a day in the life, Gary 'Mani' Mounfield – Primal Scream's riotous bass player – still exhibits a burning-the-candle-at-both-ends young man's energy and wit. But the man at the centre of two of the UK's most influential bands of the last 20-odd years has earned the right to play whatever hand he damn well wants. It was after all Mani's smacked-out bass gave The Stone Roses their signature sound and has since 1996, rumbled through all of Primal Scream's records. But it was while he and his Stone Roses buddies were enjoying what looked like start of a long, exciting career that a little Scottish band, who so far had little to crow about besides two lack lustre '60s influenced rock albums, dropped the biggest acid-rock record of the times. The fast-changing underground club music scene in Britain finally got the benchmark album in Screamadelica it had needed to set the bar high. Primal Scream had arrived and The Stone Roses suddenly seemed to get very wobbly indeed.

20 years on and Mani - who could in another reality have been discussing a Stone Roses 'Don't Look Back' tour - is instead shooting the shit on his adopted band's re-visit to a defining moment in music. While singer Bobby Gillespie has continued to guide his band away from the warped psyche-rock of Screamadelica – Mani, who missed the wild, hedonistic 'Scream of the early '90s, defies his leader's wish to 'chill-out' with age. "I've been bugging the band to get stuck into the back catalogue for years and Bob (Gillespie) was dead-set against it." He begins proudly. In his time as a member of Primal Scream, Mounfield hasn't felt first hand the level of hype that was created by Screamadelica. He's unabashedly in agreement with the media and the public that the album was their peak and in turn had the objectivity to convince the rest of the band to bring it back to the stage.

"Well I think I'm more enthusiastic about it than Bobby or any of the other guys who played on the original album." He says, grinning, "I'm playing like a fucking juvenile you know, and seeing the sheer beauty in it. I mean I've been part of Primal Scream for the last 13 fucking year's man, playing songs off this album but the difference now is we've put a lot of effort into keeping to its original sound by stripping everything back and building it back up again for the shows. We've kept a lot of (producer) Andrew Weatherall's original stuff – and it's been a grind – but I tell you what, it was such a pay-off to see 11,000  people the other week going mad for it at the Olympia in London." He continues, "To me, the songs on that album deserved to be brought to people who maybe weren't old enough to hear them the first time around or weren't even born yet. Playing to the festival crowds, like we have been recently, you're not always playing to the converted you know like in the club shows, so I hope we can turn those people onto something they maybe wouldn't have ordinarily liked or heard before. That's the power of music, man."

Gillespie & Mani

The frank-talking bassist was enjoying Stone Roses first year of success when Screamadelica hit like the freak storm nobody could've predicted considering Primal Scream's patchy past and slow-to-capitalise follow-up. Of the two bands to emerge triumphant years later, most people's hard-earned would surely have backed the 'Roses to carry on. History had other plans for Mani though, and while he saw his old band through to their end in 1996, he'd made a new home in Primal Scream before the amps had even been unplugged for the last time at camp Stone Rose. "I think I've learned a lot more from playing in this band than I would have if the 'Roses had kept going." Mani claims, "I broadened me horizons when I joined this band, no question. I was always a big fan of Primal Scream because they were so similar to us (Stone Roses), if not musically, then personally. We had a lot of the same values and similar backgrounds and so we were all firm friends early on." He remembers, "We used to always be slobbering over each other in clubs, ecstasy'd out of our fuckin' minds out in Glasgow or Manchester and so there was no doubt when the 'Roses split up where I was headed."

Mani (middle back) with Stone Roses

Just as the hazy groove-rock of the Stone Roses wiped out the competition in 1989, the following year-and-a-half belonged to Screamadelica. A young Mani was paying close attention and, he claims he saw a connection between what his old band had done previously to what Primal achieved in 1991. "I kind of looked at it as the natural progression from us having, say break-beats on Fools Gold, and also the progression of a bunch of like-minded guys wanting to do something new." He confirms, "You have to remember, guitar bands weren't being played in the clubs and acid house was taking over and there's nothing wrong with a bit of cross-pollination in music if you can make it work. Primal Scream were ballsy bastards to try it, and only a very few bands have managed to really pull off a thing like that." One of keys to Screamadelica's sound was the work of not one, but five producers. Apart from Andrew Weatherall's overall weaving of samples, loops and thick beats, it was DJ Dr Alex Patterson (a.k.a The Orb)'s co-production on Screamadelica that had dance fiends grabbing for the twelve-inches'.

"It was all just a time of pure fucking genius on many levels, you know." Mani says, "The world's greatest DJs came from that scene and Alex (The Orb) did, in my mind, the fucking best mixes of those songs on Screamadelica." The Orb remixes of Higher Than The Sun and Slip Inside This House have arguably become the essential versions over the album mixes. Those all-class singles extended the album's shelf life for two years as Loaded, Movin' On Up and Come Together continued their assault on the UK top 40 between February 1990 and February '92. Each one demonstrated a different side to the band while remaining identifiable as Primal Scream. The Glasgow lads had somehow tapped into the mystic cosmic funk and nothing they turned their hand to seemed to fail. How else could they have passed as a soul, psychedelic pop, acid house and blues rock band all in one release?
 

"Too many bands out there now are scared to deviate from whatever their last album sounded like and Primal Scream was never interested in doing that, you know." Mani offers, "I mean if you want to do that you might as well get a job in a fucking hat shop. Music should be a fucking tight-rope walk done by outsiders, ne'er do-wells, junkies and vagabonds mate." Mani encapsulates the 'Scream in this one sentence but his bravado, he reckons, isn't reinforced by any universal love for the band. "Back home we kind of get ignored in a lot of respects. I mean, I don't give a fuck what they say about us in the UK – I still think we're one of the best fucking bands still doin' it, but we don't get a lot of support." He adds, "But you know what, Primal Scream isn't our job, man it's what we do twenty-four-seven and we know how to kick it from arsehole to balls and I don't see any other rock n' roll bands playing with the kind of feeling we give it."
 

While Stone Roses' front man Ian Brown spent most of the '90s in and out of trouble/prison, Mani fought, mouthed-off and shocked for all he was worth, but somehow got away with it. That is at least until last year when supergroup Freebass, on the verge of releasing their debut album, ended suddenly with a very public serve of humiliation from Mani to Peter Hook – the group's founder and ex-New Order bassist. Freebass, which also included ex-Smiths bassist Andy Rourke, was in Mani's words, "Something to keep me match fit while the 'Scream were doin' nothing." He confesses, "I might have tainted a good friendship there, I'm such a gobshite sometimes, but we put a lot of effort into making that album and I should have been there to promote it instead of slagging Hooky off." Mani accused Hook (via Twitter) of getting fat off Ian Curtis's blood money for touring Joy Division with none of original members. "God bless him though, and look, I apologised to Peter and we're friends still, but in the end everybody bailed out of fucking Freebass." Mani laughs, "What can I say, I'm from Manchester mate and we're a bunch of gobby bastards so whatever I said at the time that was just me being me. That's what comes from spending time with the likes of Ian Brown and Liam Gallagher in the pub!"

 

Mani's salutes 'The Man'. 

The big gob, the much bigger than required bass amp and the cheeky stoned grin all suggest Mani has his priorities in order and Stone Roses reunions or failed supergroups aren't among them. Right now his sights are set on winning over his Australian fans again following 2009's sensory-annihilating shows. "I'm countin' the days off on my wall chart until I can get on that plane and come over to Melbourne mate." Mani barks, "Love the fuckin' place, love the people and can't wait to come and play for you all again." He adds in a festive tone, "Melbourne for me is like Australia's Manchester, man. It's got that pure love for music and I never have to worry about having a shit time when I'm there." When the Screamadelica Don't Look Back shows wrap up, it is already widely rumoured that the band are heading straight back into the studio to record album number 10. Mani's sure of only one thing though, the new stuff will be 'unlike anything they've done before.' "Well we could end up doing a fucking skiffle album, you just never know." He laughs, "That's something we haven't tried yet and we've been around for about 8,000 years now so maybe it's time." Mani says, cracking up. "We're gonna turn into travelling freak show freaks like the bearded lady or the fucking human dick, you know what I mean?" He splutters, "There's a kind of voyeuristic way in which people see Primal Scream, I think. They're just staring going 'what the fuck is that all about?' So we can't disappoint 'em can we?"

lEIGh5 

Tim Burgess (The Charlatans) interview (2010)

TOUCHING RETURN

Manchester chameleons, The Charlatans new album, Who We Touch is sure to please any fan who's happily given up trying to predict what to expect from this band. Soul, shoegaze, low-rent glam albums followed one another – with only the certainty of their signature organ to cling to – and not so much as one clichéd "Madchester" record to their name. Now two decades old, the band present yet another new version of themselves on album number eleven, while by contrast, singer Tim Burgess is all age-less, grounded consistency - which may stem from. his frozen-in-time circa '89 haircut.

Burgess's child-like charm underpins our talk today, which begins with the topic of his band's second Australian visit in just over a year. "It took us 15 years to come and see you guys, so we felt we had some catching up to do." He offers. Recently, following his heart, Tim relocated to Los Angeles after marrying his American girlfriend, but I wonder, could his band be offered enough local support to prompt an increased US-based push? "Well we always feel like we have to kind of start again with each record, but we do have a loyal fanbase there, but we don't get national radio play or anything like that. We actually toured America first for this album, and the crowds are a modest size, yeah but I am pleased with how we've been received here for sure." His anonymity/lack of in LA becomes a talking point as Tim describes his apparent knack for attracting lookers. "If I was a weaker character, I think I'd be quite horribly paranoid by now," he quips, "I tend to get a lot of people in LA just staring at me, and I don't know if it's because they think they've seen me somewhere before or, my hair's a bit weird, but I've kind of gotten used to it now, which is quite funny in a way."

This year is the 20th anniversary since The Charlatans shoe-gazey debut album, Some Friendly, was released. Such a landmark can't go unheralded, so a don't-look-back style series of show was deemed the best way to celebrate, ahead of the rapidly developing new album. "We did a small tour playing our entire debut album at the start of this year to kind of celebrate our little foray into the music world, and ended up extending those dates because, surprisingly a lot of people actually wanted it," he laughs, "but then it was like, okay that's enough celebrating, let's get on with the next record." The Charlatans have not only outlasted many of their Manchester peers, but seem equally as productive now as they were in their younger days. The scene that delivered many big-talking but short lived sequined thugs, spat up Tim Burgess - the archetypal alternative rock star - who uncharacteristically never seemed in fear of the party's end. This was to be his band's greatest strength. He continues, "I feel as fresh now as I did the day we started, and people are surprised by this, but making music has kept me young." Tim adds, "There have been times in those 20 years when it wasn't so amazing, but I'm doing what I love so what else can compare, you know?"

Tim, it becomes apparent, is much more at ease discussing the new material than further revisiting his band's history. Sonically they are now of little resemblance to The Charlatans of 1990, but that's not to say Burgess has been totally washing his hands of the past. In fact, Who We Touch sees Tim going back to his childhood through an invitation extended to punk royalty - Penny Rimbaud of Crass – to contribute to the album. "I didn't know what he would do, or if it would work out, but in the end he gave us this amazing poem." The spoken word track, I Sing The Body Eclectic, evokes images of some blustering, hack dramatic actor in his mock death-throws while the band adds a convincing '70s prog-rock backing. It's as though they've suddenly morphed into King Crimson or Electric Light Orchestra, but it's impossible to tell if this is a piss-take or brilliantly executed prose. Tim, keeping quiet on that particular truth, recalls the seed of his and Rimbaud's long journey to a surprisingly fitting collaboration.

"I can remember clearly being 13 years old and there was quite a buzz about Crass coming to our town, but instead of just doing the major pubs they turned up and played in our local scout hall to a bunch of kids", he exclaims, "I was there with my sort of post-scouts thing they called Adventurers, jumping around at my first ever gig which just happened to be Crass." As he shares his memory, the 13 year old Tim Burgess momentarily re-appears. He continues, excitably. "When I met Penny again late last year, I told him about this gig I'd seen them play and he remembered it because he said it was the coolest concert they'd done on that tour. The night after it, he'd played in a pub to these like, jaded punks, but he remembered us kids because we were just going mental and doing the can-can, totally uninhibited as we were."

Tim's own inner punk has never been fully realised on a Charlatans record, but in 2008 he sent a clear message to record labels in true rebel spirit. You Cross My Path, the bands tenth album, was given away free through a London radio station in a UK first. Tim discusses. "It was a bit of an anarchistic statement by us, I mean we knew before it was even finished it would be available for free, so that ended up shaping the style of music quite a bit. I wanted it to be a kind of northern, post-modern punk record, and so the decision to give it away kind of tied into the whole punk sentiment." While You Cross My Path allowed The Charlatans to further challenge themselves musically, Who We Touch, demonstrates a sizeable shift in Burgess's singing. The tracks My Foolish Pride and Intimacy will sound foreign to even long-term fans. Tim's rare in that he's a still developing flexibility as a vocalist, 20 years on. He responds. "Well on our album Wonderland, I decided to sing everything in falsetto because musically it was quite macho and bass-y, but on this album I wanted to add a kind of David Bowie crooning vibe to it." Tim adds, "So basically whenever I alter my singing on our records, it's usually just down to how either macho or how feminine I feel the music sounds."

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Andy Rourke (The Smiths) interview (2010)

HANGIN' WITH THE DJ

 
In mid-‘80s Britain, the music coming out of Manchester seemed to represent the vitality and richness lacking in the everyday lives of its cities people. Yet not a single band from that much romanticised scene could claim financial security, improved lifestyles or instant success. Its heart remained firmly intact - that is until the loss of the scene’s true princes.; The Smiths. After five short but resonant years, Morrissey, Marr, Rourke and Joyce shut down a rarely matched sweet but sorrowful union only to embark on years of publicly slagging each other off.

Today, the more sweet than sorrowful bassist Andy Rourke - now a successful club DJ – talks NY clubs, punctured bicycles, sanity and Smiths tribute bands on the eve of his first antipodean visit in his new occupation. His story begins in the wake of The Smiths, when he and drummer Mike Joyce oddly enough remained part-time members of Morrissey’s band during early solo recordings. Andy remembers that time as a tense and solemn experience.

“You have to imagine this is within a year of The Smiths breaking up, so we’re all in a bit of turmoil, missing the band and hoping things could be resolved.” After a brief band meeting, Johnny Marr announced he was leaving The Smiths, effectively dissolving the already thin ice they found themselves on as friends and as a band. Andy continues, “Obviously now things have gone way past resolution, but even at the time myself and Mike (Joyce) did Morrissey’s solo albums we never really spoke in the studio. We didn’t need to, I mean we already knew how to make music together and, to a degree, what was expected of us.” By 'expected of,' Andy refers not only to Morrissey but, also The Smiths fans. The ones who gladly wore unflattering black-rimmed specs and stuffed bunches of limp gladiolas into their back pockets, or more accurately those who felt personally devastated by their band’s end. Their impact was so strong, it seemed as though neither fan nor band were completely willing to move on - with the exception of Johnny Marr.

“Since then I’ve played in bands only on a short term basis, so I’ve never really allowed myself to get too attached I suppose.” Andy explains of his career as a session musician, while hinting at avoiding any repeats of Smiths-type drama. “Take The Pretenders for instance, I was asked to play on their Last Of The Independents (1994) record because about a month before they were due to go into the studio, Andy Hobson (Pretenders then new bassist) who was a keen cyclist was riding in Notting Hill in London and some kid just ran out and jammed a piece of wood into the spokes of his bike resulting in two broken arms, so it was a bittersweet thing really. On the plus side it was great to work with Chrissie Hynde, but it was a shame that guy had to break his arms for it to happen.” He laughs, “It’s funny because a couple of albums before the one I did, Johnny (Marr) became a semi-permanent Pretender and I remember I was really jealous at the time because when he and I were kids, we really looked up to them, so when my chance came to play with them I was really pleased.”

Sharing such a ‘fan moment’ brings out the true music obsessive Andy still is to today, and like any good DJ he's strict on his tastes too. “I live in Brooklyn now and it's a struggle to find a good club that doesn't just play R&B all night, or even a radio station for that matter. Maybe one in ten is good, and put care into their playlists but that's a minority over in the States.” Andy, the careful listener was until recently a radio DJ himself on London’s XFM. By his own admission, he may not have been the best announcer with nerves getting the best of the bassist; “I used to panic a lot between talk breaks and I had to drink like two bottles of wine – one before and one during the show” He laughs, “Anyway the whole idea of my show – it was called Weekender – was something to put on when you’re home getting drunk and getting ready to go out.”

Relocating to the US last year, Rourke involved himself in the New York club scene. The live audiences and no nerve-wracking talk breaks appealed to the former Smith. There were the downsides however… “In the US, I get people asking me to play fucking Jay-Z, which I don’t have, and they get pissed off as if you’re supposed magic up a Jay-Z CD.” Rourke muses. “There was a corporate show I did recently for Spin magazine and so people weren’t there to see me, I just happened to be DJing and this guy comes up (affects dopey American accent) “You got any Jay-Z?” – I go no, and turn my back for a moment and he poured his vodka and Redbull all over my laptop, and that was it. The thing was fucked, so luckily I was at the end of my set, but I won’t be bullied into playing crap.”

A fan of the Manchester house and indie music can surely expect to be indulged at an Andy Rourke DJ gig, but could a Smiths fan expect a raspberry for requesting How Soon Is Now? “No definitely not; I usually drop in a Smiths song or two.” He says brightly, “Things like There Is A Light works well in clubs, plus I obviously play a bit of New Order and Happy Mondays, but I also throw in some American stuff like Iggy Pop, Breeders and Pixies as well. But no fucking R&B though.” Rourke’s mode of DJing is a little more new school than one might think. Vinyl’s out, CDs and laptops are in; “I never bothered so much with vinyl, but I have to take three cases of CDs with me. I think my arms have become two inches longer carry all that around, I’ll be playing bass like Hooky soon.” He laughs, referencing Peter Hook’s famous ‘bass worn at knee level’ stance in New Order’s concerts.

Although it’s true Andy carries CD cases more than he does basses these days, his signature instrument is far from gathering dust. During a recent DJ gig in Brooklyn, Rourke unexpectedly found himself back on bass duties “After a few shandys, mind you” for a rousing Big Mouth Strikes Again, sharing the stage with – not an equally drunk Morrissey or Marr - but Sons & Heirs, a Smiths tribute band; “I was only booked to DJ that night, and I’m a bit wary of doing these kinds of gigs anyway,” Rourke explains, “But I checked them out online and they were actually really good. So I agreed to DJ for them, and later they asked me to get up and do one song with them. It was unrehearsed and a bit messy, but it was an in the moment thing.” He then adds, “I loved being in The Smiths, it was a massive part of my life and something I’m very proud of so why shy away from it, but at the same time I certainly don’t go around playing in tribute bands for a living.”

The long list of collaborators in Andy’s career reads like music’s ‘most likely to be certified’ artists. Sinead O’Connor, Morrissey, Jaz Coleman, Ian Brown – Rourke’s played with the cream of eccentric and slightly unhinged (oh let’s face it, barking mad) musicians in Britain, so what is it like being the only sane man in the room, I wonder? (Laughing) “I wouldn’t say sane, but I do tend to have a calming effect on people. It’s my soothing radio voice that helps I think.”

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