Johnny Flynn interview (2010)

Johnny Flynn

Johnny Flynn is the dashing prince of the nu-folk/anti-folk scene in the UK right now, if you haven't heard. Flynn's a kind of triple threat artist who at just 27 has released an album of songs, Been Listening, which seem to come from a voice of great many more years experience. Life as a poet, actor, musician and artist has helped shape him into a grounded yet exquisite performer who excels in each of his fields. But it's his musician's hat though he'll be wearing on this tour – a previous stop off in Perth for a traveling Shakespeare production (Taming Of The Shrew) was his only other Australian visit. Although his life sounds like scheduling hell, Flynn begins our talk by discussing a recent foray into some kind of routine – surely the enemy of any artist?

"Any period of working or producing something, it takes time for me to really get flowing I suppose, so it's nice to know everything's set up for me to just go in and get to work." He describes an away-from-home recording studio he's recently acquired. "If I'm working at home, its just endless distractions, you know. I end up in the yard looking at my flowers." He laughs gently to himself, "It's festival season now so I kind of go to work on the weekends and record during the week, which is a nice system for me."
 

Flynn's poetic works are as many as his songs. The heart of his music, despite his ability as a musician, is fine prose and storytelling. "I used to start by writing everything in verse, so the music always came second, but at this stage I usually know whether what I'm writing will turn into a song or a poem." He adds, "I've learned to write verse with enough space around the words to form its own rhythm." Coming from a poetry background and declaring William Shakespeare as an influence is certain to influence how fans view Flynn's lyrics. In a kind of poetic response, Johnny offers, "I think if I'm doing this right, then I should be able to avoid explaining what my songs are about." He adds further, "I'm into songwriters who are poetic in their lyrics and use less literal expressions. I get quite bored with writers who simply translate what they did or what somebody else did into a song, I mean you only have three minutes to tell the story so you might as well make it something worthwhile. It's much more challenging to take the assumption people can read into what you're saying metaphorically, go above expected turns of phrase and then add lots of colour as well."

Outside of literature, Johnny only really claims one songwriter as an influence on him as a young writer. "I really liked Bob Dylan when I was growing up, but I'm not really one of those music fans who thrived in isolation, listening to a great many artists who affected me or my music." He says adding, "I do like this American scene at the moment known as anti-folk. There's some real raw talent coming from there I think." On his journey to making his second long-player Been Listening, Johnny has gathered a solid group of artists to collaborate with. The Sussex Wit go where Flynn goes and have become essential to taking his music on the road. "My sister Lillie's in the band, and the rest are people I played with in other bands and some I grew up with as friends." He beams. Flynn can claim fluency in guitar, mandolin, violin, organ, accordion and trumpet, no less. Good thing then he's bringing his band with him on tour to help out with those, but as earner of two music scholarships from the age of 13, band or not he's studio-ready anytime.
 

"I started out playing on a four-track because I used to have this thing about having to  playing all the instruments myself and so I'd always record all the parts separately into a tape recorder and feed those into the four-track, but you'd always end up with this terrible hiss like some old 78rpm record." He laughs. Flynn's sharing the band duties around now, but on the idea of potentially writing songs for other artists to sing, he's not budging. "No I'm not really interested in doing that because I only really write when I feel I've got something to say and then it's usually quite personal to me." He explains, "My music feels kind of synonymous with my expression of it. At least that's how I feel about it now, but who knows if that might change. Writing for other people I think would feel a little contrived or untruthful, and besides I'm not exactly a Max Martin type hit maker or anything like that." He giggles.
 

Last year, singer Lisa Mitchell, who was probably just shopping for an extra if we're being frank, introduced Australia to Johnny through her video for Coin Laundry. He appeared as the bookish object of her lust in said establishment – a humble cameo, yet oddly memorable. Flynn reveals, "My friend who's a film maker directed that, and I'd never met Lisa before, but it's funny because my girlfriend actually worked on one of Lisa's previous videos as an art director." He exclaims, "So we didn't have any musical connection but we had a loose connection through video, I suppose. I do a bit of acting and so when they needed an extra for that clip my director friend offered me the job. I got on really well with Lisa and by chance I ended up touring with her in Europe along with Mumford and Sons earlier this year."

In closing, I want to ask Johnny if he's a distant relative of flamboyant Aussie actor Errol Flynn. His family come from theatre stock, and are from far flung corners of the globe. Pressed on the subject, he laughs, "I am not willing to deny that, but I have no evidence to suggest it's true." He adds, "I'd like to think there's a connection in there somewhere, but it's one of those things I only want to know if it is actually true. Otherwise I'm just willing to let remain a mystery."

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click to watch:


LISA MITCHELL - Coin Laundry: video featuring Johnny Flynn.

JOHNNY FLYNN - Kentucky Pill: video

Torquil Campbell (Stars) interview (2010)

EARNING THEIR STRIPES

Torquil Campbell – leader of Montreal's Stars comes across as a tireless information enthusiast, responding to all questions in our interview with as much detail as he can muster. Characteristically, his band (in which the singer shares co-lead with vocalist Amy Millan) are celebrated word smiths, big of heart, and key-holders of sublime hooks. A new album, The Five Ghosts only strengthens their already solid catalogue, and upon discussing Stars' fifth record with Campbell, it serves as proof that some pretty sinister events can sometimes result in truly great beauty.

Regarding the album's intriguing title, Campbell opens up about being strangely pestered by the number five, and felt forced to confront its apparent hold on him. "It's a very unsettling number for me, and overtime I began to obsess over why that was." Campbell mysteriously reveals. "Usually I have a very polemical answer for what I write about and why I use certain references, but the five ghosts were just there. They seemed to demand the record be called that, and I don't want to give you a flakey answer, but it was something that was outside of my reasoning." Torquil was eventually moved to do a little research on the expression 'five ghosts', which offered a something of an explanation. "I found out that the five ghosts is a feng shui term meaning the five points of energy in a house and how those energies change when someone dies." He describes, "It suddenly all became clear to me because my father had just died."

Even stranger events began to take place, informing precisely the direction Stars' new album was going to take. One highlight from The Five Ghosts is also the bands debut 'impressionist' track, He Dreams He's Awake. This trance-like, mostly instrumental track stands alone alongside their often conceptual rock songs. Torquil elaborates, "That's an interesting one because it was the very beginning of the record, and is so far the only song Stars have ever written with just the five of us sitting in a room starting from scratch." He remembers. "It happened the day after we all got together in Vancouver to start work on this album, and Chris, (Seligmano - keyboards) who'd been living in this rented apartment, was coming to rehearsals in the daytime looking ashen faced, having not slept all night. He claimed that he was being haunted by this female entity that was trying to attack him!" Campbell exclaims, laughing. "We thought it was kinda funny, but then on the third night he left his flat and refused to go back, so the rest of us had to go back and get his luggage and stuff. He told me he would wake up just after falling asleep each night and this ghost would be there standing over him. So this record was started in these strange circumstances and no matter how you try and steer things to be, I dunno more cheerful I suppose, ghosts were all there around us commanding the album."

If Torquil felt that making this album satisfied the number five's hold on him, he's not willing to admit it just yet. If I'm reading between his words correctly, Campbell doesn't want those little demons to disappear as long as they're pushing him into creative terrain. "Our (Stars) parents never told us when we were growing up to go get a job or gave us a hard time about who we were, so I feel blessed by that, but it means that we have a temptation to explore the dark side of life when we get together. I don't really know why that's the case, I mean the hardest question for me to answer is always 'where did you get that idea from?'" Campbell continues, "If I knew the answer to that, I'd go back there and rape the place of ideas. Instead I have to just ponder these things when they come." He adds, "So in reaction to these 'five ghosts', I ended up writing a short poem - which we didn't use on the album - but it goes; Five ghosts in the garden,/five ghosts in the shed/five ghosts on the pillow when I lay down my head. Who were these figures/who could they be?/Three of them were strangers and the other two were you and me."
 

The bizarre happenings Campbell describes, encouraged Stars to map out and stick to a previously untried method of recording for the fifth album, with the emphasis on capturing the 'raw spirit'. "We had a very clear plan in that we weren't going to demo but instead get together in three individual sessions. (We would) write for two weeks, record everything we had in another two weeks and then take time off and go back to what we had recorded and see what we thought of it." How the change of process affected the album and band in Torquil's mind was ideal for preventing any stagnation. "The fun part of making an album can be quashed if you over do the demo side of it. You can end up trying to recapture a flame that was burning somewhere else so we didn't want that to happen anymore." He continues, "As much as we love Set Yourself on Fire and In Our Bedroom After The War, I think they suffered from people not willing to let go of individual contributions and tunes, so this time we were very ruthless with ourselves and pushing for the songs to earn their place on the album."

Campbell is separate from the rest of Stars in that he's hardly able to play any musical instruments, yet he possesses an incredibly keen ear for luscious hooks and melodies, making him peerless within the band. Of his main role, Torquil chimes in; "Knowing melody is just like knowing how to skateboard, you know." He says in what I've come to see as a typical response from the singer; "It's a particular physiological thing that happens in our brain. Some dudes just know how to skateboard, but I could never get that. I don't even know that much about making music, but I know how to write melodies. Even Johnny Rotten, who wasn't a musician had a great sense of melody – he understood what a brilliant hook was, and that's enough sometimes." He continues, somewhat understated. "People look for gratification in pop music, so if somebody has a half finished phrase in their mind and you can write the end of the phrase for them in music, you're giving them gratification and they're gonna want to keep coming back. That is what I know how to do. It's all I know how to do in music."

Torquil may have answered his calling in music, but a sideline in acting holds a special place for the singer. Appearances in popular dramas Sex & The City and Law & Order have fed his urges, along with various stage shows in Canada and New York. He's the son of actor parents Doug Campbell and Moira Wylie, but instead of a full time career, Torquil sees it as more a retirement plan. "It was totally what I thought I would end up doing you know." He laughs, "Everyone in my family is in the theatre and it was the only world I knew, until luckily I met Chris - my first musician friend." Torquil adds, with a mock sigh. "But somehow I just know I'm going to end my days acting though."

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Tom Gabel (Against Me!) interview: 2010

IN-CROWD BLUES

In the 13 years since forming Against Me, singer Tom Gabel has grown his 'baby' from a solo acoustic act to a full blown band of aggressors, moving increasingly in step with the current wave of US punk bands. However Against Me's distinction is in their outspoken criticism of that very scene and Tom - the reluctant spokesman's - apparent fragility. His band's tour to promote current album White Crosses - their fifth - will include Australia but tonight an eloquent Gabel, fresh off stage in Canada is hunkered down in the band's tour bus, fighting back what sounds like flu.

"I love touring in Canada but we always end up playing there in the dead of winter" He sniffs, "It's inevitable we end up getting sick so at least when we get to Australia we can look forward to some sun." Tom explains in before a bout of coughing. "Oh that's just a little after blast from the show, we played about an hour ago you see." He says. Against Me's 2010 release, White Crosses, follows the band's biggest album of their career thus far, New Wave (2007). Both projects have been over seen by star producer Butch Vig, but at what stage in the current album's process did Tom decide the Against Me/Vig combo could turn out another ripper? "We knew pretty soon after we started making the album that we were going to work with Butch again." Tom assures, "The last time, working with him was a fucking magical experience and thankfully, he liked our stuff a lot and actually called us to ask if we wanna do the next record together." 

Tom defines their working relationship as more 'band and older brother' than knob pushing dude behind glass. "Butch is a great guy to hang out with and just drink, you know. He's been in a few bands so he knows how to play hard as well as work hard." Tom smiles knowingly, "Also it's hard to have perspective when you just finish an album, you need a little time to digest how you feel about the songs and even the whole experience of making it." Butch added to his producer role that of objective critic, Tom explains. "It's hard taking criticism from anyone in the band, I mean we all would argue a lot about stuff, but Butch was an outsider and so we kind of automatically accepted his opinion because it never felt like a personal thing." He laughs.

The album's title and title track, White Crosses is a loaded term, conjuring up images of white supremacy in the American south or vast fields of fallen soldier's graves. However Tom's anger, he explains, was not aimed not at the KKK or lives lost in war. "I wrote the majority of the record in St Augustine, in Florida where I recently moved to and just around the corner from my house there's this church and the front lawn is covered in these little white crosses, and behind them there's a piece of text saying each of the crosses is there to represent how many abortions occur in America every day. So the song is in essence a pro-choice song, and seeing those crosses everyday, I fantasised about kicking them down, or driving my car through them. I think there's something to be said for acts like that - it'd be very gratifying, but instead I play music and write about this stuff. That's why I say in the lyric, "I want smash them all down".

Fighting words are never far from Gabel's mouth when it comes his perception of injustices. He's also been very outspoken of his punk peers' use of the genre to raise their own profiles, and generally miss the point. The current album's lead single, I Was A Teenage Anarchist takes careful aim at punk scene posers and prompts the question; has punk completely lost its way? "I think as long as there's passion and enthusiasm for punk music, and people are still doing it for nothing but the right reasons, then it still has meaning." Tom offers. "I think it's about what's personal to the individual - For me, my life has been changed by punk, and so if somebody comes up to me and says, you're not punk or our band's not punk... Punk is this, this and that, it makes me mad because they don't even see that they're putting rules and conditions on something which isn't defined by fashion or haircuts." He continues, "I'm not doing anything original, I mean the bands that I really admired were the ones who were most critical of the snobbery around punk, bands like Crass were saying things like 'anarchy has just become another token cancer, another cross to bare.' That sort of stuff would always effect me the most."

Gabel's online blog keeps fans up to date with the band's every move as the tour rolls on, however his very personal approach has unearthed some pretty gruesome effects traveling has had on the singer. "We do pretty aggressive, exhausting concerts and I've come pretty close to losing it after shows." Tom reveals, "I write a lot on tour to keep focused, but there's a whole shit storm that goes on around touring and playing in different cities ever other day." He adds "It feels like you're in a submarine going along in trapped in this tiny space, then you surface for a show and then it's back down in the depths and (you're) moving on again. The diet really suffers too, you know." Tom grins, "I think I'm up to day six now without having even seen a vegetable!" 

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Mark Lanegan interview (2010)

For Washington based singer Mark Lanegan, music has been a great addiction and one rarely satisfied by the occasional hit. He began performing in grunge nearly-rans, The Screaming Trees in the late '80s, but was restless with their slow progression and so before the band even fully broke through, Lanegan instigated a solo career to satisfy his need to write and play. The Screaming Trees, carried along on the grunge wave, seemed poised to hit big, yet it soon became clear their singer was intent on paving a way out of grunge for himself and continued to surface, mainly in collaboration, with artists also seeking a way out of their respective scenes. With that in mind, it's Mark's collaboration with the English duo Soulsavers - on two of their three albums - that begins our talk ahead of his Australian solo tour. The roof-raising soul/gospel angle of these works saw Lanegan move as far away from his grunge roots as possible.

"The gospel influence on those albums was those guys' vision, but did I co-write a lot of the music on Soulsavers." Mark explains. "It was just one of those things, they asked me to sing on it and I liked the music so, that's what we did. I have simple criteria – If someone asks me to do something and I like what they do, I'll get involved." The challenge of writing and recording music he had no founding in was appealing for the restless artist that Mark is, he continues; "Any sort of music is a challenge, because you're creating something where there was previously nothing and so I find that more challenging than the type of music I'm doing." He adds, "The thing that draws me to these different projects is that it's actually a treat to do something outside my realm and that keeps it interesting for me." The Soulsavers marry down-tempo electronica with the uplifting gusto of traditional gospel, if you're among the uninitiated. Yet Lanegan found their niche appealing not from a religious perspective but because of its rarely matched power to move the listener. "I find certain gospel songs incredibly moving, and just because I don't go to church that doesn't mean that I can't be moved by the music of that environment." He states, "But you know it doesn't matter if its gospel, or rock or blues as long as the artist means it and you can feel that, then that's what's gonna draw me in every time."

Mark's current tour is a look back at his solo work, but also promises to include a few tracks from his many collaborators. A third album with Isobel Campbell (ex-Belle & Sebastian) is due later this year, Lanegan has recently completed a tour with his ongoing collaborator Greg Dulli (as The Gutter Twins) plus another solo record is underway. The work keeps piling up, and as Mark puts it, it's all down to him being unable to refuse an offer. "There's time for everything I suppose, but really, I just can't say no." he laughs, "I'm never not working on something or other. One of the main reasons I guess I don't say no to working with so many different people, because each time it's a surprise." He adds, "I know what it's like to sit down and write a song by myself, and that's my comfort zone I suppose, but I might not know what it's like to write with you for instance, so that'd be the more interesting option every time." Interesting is the word, I've never written a song in my life but it seems rude to not offer Mark the opportunity to get a co-write happening anyway, "I'm very busy for the next few years but….!"

Moving on, we discuss Mark's involvement with Queens Of The Stone Age. Between 2000 and 2005 he became a full-time member after a long association with the group. I ask Mark if he was perhaps missing the dynamic of a group, and the simpler pleasures of just rocking out. "I guess that was the thinking there."  He laughs. "I had played with Josh already in Screaming Trees (Homme toured with the band in 1995) and I'm a big fan of what he does, so when the 'Trees split and he asked me to join, it was no question really. Anytime I can travel the world and play songs I love and hang out with friends, I'm there."

 Mentioning Screaming Trees has Mark sighing a little. It's well documented that the band had a rocky existence, but yet were still able to pull off seven acclaimed albums in their career. Lanegan's slow move away from his group had begun in 1990 with his first solo album, The Winding Sheet. In hindsight I wonder if Mark felt he was outgrowing his band from the start. "Not at first, it was just something that I saw as a way of playing with people other than the band. Also it wasn't only me doing that, the other guys had bands outside of Screaming Trees as well, so the group was kind of all our side project really. Now I'm out doing this solo tour, I kind of feel like everything I've done has been a side project." He smiles. As Mark's list of collaborations grows, it's hard not to wonder who's left on his dream list; "Well one of the high points of my recording career has been working with PJ Harvey (on Mark's album Bubblegum)." He recalls, adding "Also I really like Band Of Horses, those guys are really doing… something right." He drawls, "You know you're a big deal when you get one of those bus stop bench advertisements." Mark laughs, "I saw their new album advertised on one of those things which was pretty weird, but I love those guys."

With that tantalizing thought hanging in one of the many silent moments during our chat, I ask Mark finally if creating music from such a broad palate with apparent ease has given him greater confidence. "I think I've gained more humility," He pauses, "I had confidence already but music has taught me to be humble because it's outside of my realm in that I don't really understand where it comes from when I'm writing or singing." He adds, "I hope I never learn how to grasp it fully either. It's like a goal that you never quite reach, but that's why I do what I do because if that chase ended, then I'm sure the music would stop for me."



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Click to watch:

SOULSAVERS + MARK LANEGAN "Revival" video

Ray McGinley (Teenage Fanclub) interview (2010)

After Surviving the collapse of taste-making label Creation, scathing self-criticism and the 1990s in general, Scotland's Teenage Fanclub have heralded their 20th year in the biz with a new album, Shadows. According to the UK media, the band fans dubbed 'The Fannies' 1991 album, Bandwagonesque, was the best release of the year (controversially beating Nirvana's Nevermind). Yet critical acclaim rarely seemed to influence, for good or bad, the group's subsequent releases, and they've often seemed perversely self-destructive. Perhaps it's this apathy to outside perception that has helped maintain Teenage Fanclub's creative core over hit song making approach to music. As singer/lead guitarist Ray McGinley points out during our interview, "It is the band that has to live with the songs they make, and love them too, even the ugly ones." That said, I wonder have Teenage Fanclub, 20 years on from debut album Catholic Education, hit their peak with Shadows.

"Whether we're at our peak or not it's probably up to other people to decide." Ray begins on the subject of his band's new album. "I think we're comfortable with where we're at and with the new record so our relationship with our collective, creative sides is fine. With that in mind, I'm sure there are people who will think what we're doing now is crap and only be interested in what we did 20 years ago, but that's fine as well." Teenage Fanclub began in Glasgow in the late 1980s, following a false start as the hilariously named noise-pop band, Boy Hairdressers. Since then they have held claim to the title of 'Creation Records longest post-collapse survivors' now that Oasis have split. McGinley has doubtfully even considered why his band have flourished for so long, as they have continually made music to please themselves above all. "Sometimes when you're in the middle of making an album you forget that other people are actually gonna hear it and so when you release something new and goes out into the world, it can be surprising to hear any kind of feedback from the public." He considers "I mean it's great when you hear people like what you do, because making the albums you lose all objectivity, but I don't think we've ever made music as a way of gaining popularity or anything."

During the bands early years, the emphasis was often on capturing the moment when recording, thus various cacophonous noise-pieces made their way onto Teenage Fanclub albums. The rate at which they recorded was unusual for any band - they put out three records in under two years including The King (1991) – which was deleted within 24 hours of release. However non-rush to follow up last release Man-Made (2005) was a little out of character. Ray explains, "We decided to take some time before we recorded anything to just do other stuff for a time, individually, and that ended up being a lot longer than we initially planned." He laughs, "We didn't take very long to record the actual album, it was all pretty much done back in 2008, but we did take our time mixing it and then had another break after it just to let it mature for a while before we dealt with all the stuff that goes along with releasing an album."

The lack of urgency in finishing and releasing Shadows could be the sign of a band under no pressure to follow up some massive hit album, but more likely it's a confident step forward for Teenage Fanclub who, as their own biggest critics, found a happy medium of music that satisfied them and a workload that wouldn't unduly pressure them. "It's just nice to live with the work for a time before everything starts happening, like all the promotion and rehearsal commitments, when suddenly it feels like a job." Ray adds, "But then going out and playing for people, who come up and talk to us after the show and who've got the new album with them, is a great feeling and then you tour for two years or something and that feeling just stays with you." He continues, "We're in rehearsal at the moment trying to get to grips with re-learning how to play some of the (new) songs again. When you're in the studio making the album, you only need to get it right once and so you're not that well versed in the songs as you would be playing them night after night." He describes, "We're hoping we can work out everything on the record so we can play it live in full like we did with our last one."
 

In performing complete albums on tour, Teenage Fanclub are able to share equally the vocal and written workload. McGinley, Norman Blake and Gerard Love have a long tradition of singing and writing equal percentages of the bands' albums, similar to their '60s counterparts the Beach Boys. A massive back catalogue of work now means an even greater share of live duties, but also the challenge to strike a balance between the ease of familiarity and fully exploring new material.  Ray continues, "I remember, going back to 1990 when we put out our first record Catholic Education, which had less individual members songs, and we'd played that album live, like hundreds of times, and we had a set which we kind of stuck to, then in 1991 we released Bandwagonesque and suddenly we had to play all these new songs and, even to this day it still takes a while until you really feel comfortable playing new the songs along side the old ones." He claims, "There's a real sort of strangeness to them until you've taken them out around the world and lived with them for a time." Ray laughs. "There's a new song called Dark Clouds, which Norman (Blake) sings and there's no guitar on it, so we're trying to work out now how we're going to play it live – as in can he play piano and sing at the same time, because it's quite a difficult song to play, and if he gets someone else to play it, will he feel a bit strange standing there just singing without his guitar!" He exclaims, "So you see what I mean about having to re-learn how to do this thing that we've been doing or over 20 years now whenever we have new songs."
 

There's so much humility in Ray's voice as he speaks about his music. The idea of new songs having to be 'grown into' and old ones being 'comfortable' is the language of a man fully into his craft. Yet the band have been known to give themselves a harsh serve when any apparent 'below par' music's been produced. Ray on the theme of self-criticism, "I think we always try and get our music to be as good as it can be, and that includes playing live as well as studio recordings, but we don't get too uptight about it. I mean you're never going to be able to recreate your record live, it's gonna be another kind of thing and we're always aware of that, but I think we're very self-critical when we play, for sure." Indeed Teenage Fanclub have taken self-depreciation to levels not often seen in music. In one case, at its initial promotional stage, their 1993 release Thirteen was widely dismissed in the UK press – only not by bitchy journalists – but by the band themselves. Not an exercise in reverse psychology, Ray points out, but more a slip of the tongue. "We were probably too publicly self-critical in the case of that album." He laughs, "I think the longer you work on something, and at the time that was our longest period making an album, the more anti-climactic the result can feel. We were genuinely unsatisfied with it and we knew we should have done it a lot better, but the fact that we were so vocal about it meant that the media, of course ran with it."
 

In a kind of unprecedented twist, Teenage Fanclub's follow up to Thirteen, 1995's Grand Prix, was championed as one of the best British album's released all year – and one that the band were this time keen to vocalise their happiness with. The sound on that album was a strong indicator of what was to come, as the lads from Glasgow moved away from their shoegaze roots and onto 3 part harmonies. The latest, Shadows, is close to full with hooks and harmonies channeled straight from 1960s California via Glasgow, and picking up a little XTC on the way. It's on my comparison with Swindon's now defunct oddball-poppers, XTC that Ray interjects; "I don't think I fashion myself on any particular singer, I just try and sing in tune as best I can." He says laughing, "But it's funny because I really like XTC, but I don't think I've ever sat down and actually listened to a whole album." Ray adds, "I do like their attitude though, they seem to be against all the bullshit side of music and just stay recluse and maybe release something every ten years or so." He smiles, "That's something I can definitely appreciate now."

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Paul Weller interview (2010)

ALARM CALL

Tears For Fears' 1989 single, Sowing The Seeds Of Love, yielded the line; "Kick out the Style/Bring back The Jam", crudely vocalising the sense of importance Paul Weller's band - The Jam ('76-'83) - had for working class Britain. While his later blue-eyed soul project, Style Council - the ones who would be 'kicked out' - went on to greater success here in Australia, Meanwhile, The Jam's baton was picked up in the UK by earnest newcomers Billy Bragg and Elvis Costello. By the end of the '80s that Tears For Fears lyric coincided with the finish of what many Brits deemed a welcome end to this less honest/confronting side of Weller. Although The Jam weren't seen as punk heroes or gods of mod, it was enough that they had the balls to sing out about how shitty the UK class system had become at the time.

Now, after two decades of growing success as a solo artist, the man they called the Modfather is at last acknowledging his roots on a potent new album called Wake Up The Nation. Talking today from his London home, I begin by asking Paul if he thinks music still has the impact today that The Jam had for England at their peak. "I think it has the potential too," He begins enthusiastically, "but I don't think it's really happening. I guess a lot of it is down to kids have so many more distractions these days, so music is just one platform to make a personal statement by, but when I was a kid, which was a long time ago," He laughs, "There was music or there was football that people gravitated to as a way of feeling a part of something. You have to remember, the technology around now didn't exist then and so your outlet for expression was very limited." Paul remembers, "The bands you were into defined who you were from how you dressed to your attitude and all that."

The relevance of Weller's music ran deep for working class communities who needed a voice. Paul has an inside view of the impact music can have when it's used as a battle cry. He says, "I don't know about all of it, but I'd like to think the majority of The Jam's music was relevant and it's great that people still feel that it is." He pauses then adds "In the shows when we play the old Jam songs, they still sound fresh to me and I feel they're still saying something, because not a lot has changed really… Unfortunately."

A five night residency at the Royal Albert Hall recently gave Weller the chance to showcase his massive back catalogue ahead of a world tour. So how does a man with a thousand songs create the definitive set list? "Obviously we played the new album, but we tried to mix it up each night and have different guests come on with us but I probably covered about 60 songs over the course of the residency."  Considering fan favourites and audience requests, I wonder how spontaneous does he like to get? "To be honest there's quite a few songs I can't really remember, so if it's something not rehearsed beforehand, I doubt I could just play it off the cuff." He laughs. Weller's new set Wake Up The Nation is his tenth solo album, and with a tradition of loose concept albums behind him, I wonder what the bigger picture is fans can look for on this album. "It's just very urban and gritty I think." Paul pauses as he's interrupted by a passing police car, sirens wailing. "As you can hear I'm right in the thick of urban grit right now!" He laughs. "I also wanted to push the boundaries a bit to get away from that whole corporate, safe sounding music that's around at the moment." Paul continues, "Basically I wanted to make the record that sounded unlike anything we were hearing. That was one of the main concepts really."
 

Hardly a one trick pony, Weller's work to date has run between punk, ska, new wave, soul, acoustic/roots and all bells and whistles pop. The raw rock then of Wake Up…, although a new move again, is surpassed – in unlikeliness land - by the album's club mixes bonus disc. Paul explains, "Basically I wanted to be surprised by my own music", He supposes, "I mean I gave permission to the artists who remixed the album to do whatever they wanted with it. I said they could re-sing it, slow it down, speed it up whatever you know, and I was really pleasantly surprised with the results."

So Wake Up The Nation has something new (dance remixes) and something old to boast. The return of Bruce Foxton, Weller's old mucker (and bassist) in The Jam, who hasn't played with the singer since 1982, has had many fans craning their ears to hear a Jam-centric blast from the past on his return. Paul says of their reunion; "It was funny how we got together again, because Bruce lost his wife last year and I went and saw them just before she passed away and that really sparked up our friendship again." Paul explains, "It was the whole life's too short thing, and after years of not speaking to each other I think we came up with one of the best songs we've ever done. Simple as that." The track Paul and Bruce perform together is Fast Car Slow Traffic, and you can't get much more urban and gritty than on this one. It brilliantly manages to sound like 'classic Jam' while avoiding an 'old tricks' routine. It's probably the heaviest rock track Weller has done, but then we've never heard him channel Jimi Hendrix before.
 

Foxton aside, it's the collaboration with Kevin Shields from My Bloody Valentine on the track 7+3 Is The Striker's Name that's surprised fans the most. Paul discusses, "It probably is a surprise for a lot of people but I view it more as two musicians from different backgrounds with the only common ground being that we're both musicians." Paul reasons, "I just thought he would bring something special to the track and once we got into the studio he just did his thing and I did mine and thankfully it worked. Kevin is a great bloke to, a real pleasure to work with."

With so many new and old collaborations and a renewed love of experimenting, I wonder was Weller musically revived a little by his father's death during the album's inception. "I can't say it wasn't a factor, and if you listen to the song Trees, I kind of let it all out on there." He further explains, "It was such a cathartic experience to write that (song), it started out as a poem and I wasn't really thinking of it as a song lyric. I wrote it quite quickly, you know to get it off my chest, sort of thing and I showed Simon Dine who produced the record, and he really liked it and saw the potential to make a song out of it. I was pretty amazed at that really so he gets all the credit for that one." Paul then adds, "Playing that live, it's quite fuckin' hard for me to keep it together actually, but I think it's one of the highlights of the set." Mixing prose and song writing doesn't seem like a comfortable blend to Paul, he says of the distinction. "Well I don't really like 'confessional' records if you know what I mean. I don't like those 'Oh I feel like this or like that, I have to explain all my feelings'" He blurts out, "As a songwriter I'd be bored writing like that, and I think it'd be boring to listen to. Prose is usually about the writer's innermost, but in my whole career I've probably written two or three songs directly about me. That's probably more enough for anyone I think."

lEIGh5
 

Richie Lewis (Tumbleweed) interview 2010

Before grunge even had a name, five guys from Woollongong calling themselves Tumbleweed were about to become Australia's most obvious link to the global fad Cobain's boys spearheaded. 1990 was Time for the Guru, and Nevermind was still a whole year away, but Tumbleweed, a throw-back in many ways, debuted with a single whose sound would dominate everything for the next four or so years. Early success in the form of Sundial (Mary Jane) and Daddy Long-Legs reinforced Australia's love of this new under-produced, underdog rock known as grunge. However by their own admission, Tumbleweed couldn't beat that first buzz, and as the decade wore on, along with their friendships, the end was in clear sight. Ten years on though, and with a zen-like new approach to life/music/art, singer Richie Lewis is reunited with his old band mates for a second go at the elusive joy of a musicians lifestyle.

The band's 2009 reunion is rumoured to have been slowed by Lewis's objection, so he begins our talk by revealing a few truths for the record. "What happened was I was the most reluctant, but then I didn't really know the others were so keen to do it. I was saying no for a long time, but I was also one of the first in actually doing anything about it." A chance meeting with an old band mate began the process, he explains; "It started with me running into Paul (Hausmeister) for the first time in years and having a conversation with him. I'm a big believer in that if a few coincidences happen simultaneously in your life, then you really should listen to what they're telling you." Lewis continues, "I remember I went to a restaurant one night and there was only one seat left and it was right next to Paul, and we just looked at each all night and finally when he got up to go to the toilet I started talking to his girlfriend and I said to her 'you know how it mentioned in the paper that I'm the one that's stopping the reunion, well that's not exactly true.' She then said when Paul gets back I should tell him so, we ended up back at his place drinking wine and talking about it, and finally we just agreed to plug in and see how we sound and if it's any good…" Richie pauses, "We organised a practice and bang it just sounded right." He states, "I mean we could have had that conversation a couple of years before but it was just the timing was right. There was enough water under the bridge, it was time to let go and sort of bury the hatchet."

As the light went back on in Richie's mind regarding his band's future, he also faced up to his part in its demise. "Form me it was a realisation of the fact that it's okay to be wrong sometimes and just admit it and what I had with those people was great, and it wasn't really worth holding onto this pride any longer. I mean playing and being friends with these guys again has been just awesome man." During 1996, at the band's peak, they split into two parties – Lewis and the Curley brothers, feeling they had a greater say in matters due to them starting the band, clashed with Paul Hausmeister and Steve O'Brien over growing trivialities, before finally asking them to leave. Tumbleweed continued on, but with declining success. "When this original line-up broke up it was acrimonious and we held onto our grudges for a long time." Lewis recalls, "We didn't do the right thing and it was a decision we had to live with for ten years. We ended up, in the later years of Tumbleweed trying to make up for this loss of energy that had come naturally to us before, and although we had some great new musicians in the band, it was a struggle to reach that peak again. When we got back together last year, first of all I had to realise to myself, I was in the wrong. I had done the wrong thing by Steve (O'Brien) and Paul and therefore by the band, and once I was able to confront that we were right back at the start and we could allow ourselves to enjoy making music together again."

Speaking on the reunion, which is already heading towards its first 12 months, Lewis's love of his bands' music has only strengthened now that his friendships within the band have rekindled. "It's a great thing you know, when you hear that sound again, our sound, all this stuff we had kept bottled up for ten years is just gone." He shrugs, "It's also more fun now, in that we're older and wiser and we can enjoy the music more without all the other crap you go through when you're in your 20s. This used to be my reality, but now it's more my escape from reality which is why I think I appreciate it more."

Tumbleweed's first official reunion show was at the 2009 Homebake festival, which was quickly followed by the decision to carry on, prompting the question of a new album. The last one was 2000's Mumbo Jumbo but, Lewis quick to point out, is nowhere near an indication of where he wants to pick up from. "We have been writing and there are new songs but there's still a lot of work to go yet, but we're totally going back to the early days and trying to write from the place we first started at." Richie confirms, making reference to his state of mind as a young musician. ""I don't wanna say too much really, I mean…" He stops himself, "It's early days I can't really talk about it at all actually." Before I can move on, he jumps in again, determined to give an answer; "I want it to be really long and psychedelic and I want it to encapsulate what I thought early Tumbleweed EPs could have been but with a bit more musical knowledge but, I don't think I'll write anything that could be a potential hit."

The band had clocked up several hit songs, such as Sundial, Hang Around and Planet Of The Weeds, but the fall-out from success, Richie explains, was the death of his art; "In the early days there was focus, and something that was really unique to us, and that's what I want to get back to on any new music we make. Back then we thought, "oh such-and-such a song sold quite a few, we better try and write more songs like that' and what ends up happening is things become more contrived as you go on and you end up honing your art to suit what people want." He elaborates, "Its like when you go and see year 12 artwork and there's all this freedom and ideas but sometimes the craftsmanship hasn't quite caught up with the idea, but the catch is as soon as the artist hones the craft, the idea automatically becomes contrived. I'm more about the impetus, the moment of creation and that's what all good art is to me. So that's what we've got to get back to and if we can't capture that spirit of uniqueness, then I don't think there's much point. I'd hate to put anything out anything that kills what we've done in the past, but right now it's still at a pretty natural stage, we're just writing new songs because it's a fun way to start and end our practice sessions."

lEIGh5

Click to watch:

Tumbleweed "Hang Around" video

Tumbleweed "Sundial" video

Rickie Lee Jones live in Melbourne 2010 (review)

Venue: The Forum

"It's too quiet in here". Nervous laughter. "I guess I'd better play some music then." Rickie Lee Jones is gently pacing the stage at The Forum, seeming so small against the simple backdrop of fairy lights, her speaking voice so soft yet resonant in the room which although full to capacity, is also dead silent. She has just completed one of her signature tracks, Last Chance Texaco, and as the applause dies down only the air-con is audible. This factor is both awkward and mesmerising, and stems more from Jones' incredible tenderness as a performer than the audience's detachment. In fact all present seem to be enthralled to the point of transfixion as Jones works her way into our ears.

Although she has been largely missing from the lime-light for some time, Jones by all accounts is having a renaissance on new album Balm In Gilead. The jazz-pop tunes of her early career eventually gave way to experimental, electronic tracks which have sadly meant her fanbase have often not remained with her throughout. The gaps in consistent exposure have probably kept Jones' invigorated musically though, and has also meant that tonight's show is not a nostalgia trip, but one by an artist still creating and learning new tricks coupled with 30 years of experience.

I'm struck by the ease at which Jones moves between instrument and song choice as she sets up mood after mood, then just as we are hanging on each guitar chord or piano note, quickly shifts tact. The focus tonight seems to be on Rickie's most personal songs, or the songs that have come from key points in her life, as the set-ups between tracks contest. "This song was written by my father decades ago", she says speaking of The Moon Is Made Of Gold. "This next song was written about my family", (The Albatross) and so forth.

As she's performing tonight, Jones' voice noticeably alters on each song as if she's voicing characters, or perhaps even old selves revisited for the purpose of the songs alone. Her formerly tumultuous private life has naturally imbedded itself into her work, and it's only when she performs the ragged jazz number Easy Money, the memory of an intense relationship with Tom Waits in her past emerges for us to witness. Jones prowls the stage, growling and dropping the kinds of quirky names and situations Wait's career is built on. Jones freely displays an acute knack for reaching into her psyche and living out these songs rather than just playing them, and if - as I suspect - she is sharing stories about parts of her life, it's all channeled through with warmth rather than being grossly expunged.

The whole unrestrained feel of the show is further more down to there being no set list and also Rickie's swapping between guitar, piano and drums as she sees fit. At one point breaking from the flow of a track she says, "I'm sick of guitar, I think we need some piano now." On stage with her are a drummer/backing singer and a young bass/loops player, acting as both casual accompaniment and dominating force where needed. On His Jeweled Floor, the band comes together building up psychedelic noise patterns using live loops and splash cymbals as Rickie shuffles back and forth plucking her acoustic guitar. The outcome is a totally hypnotic, spine tingling finale and as it concludes, the audience, completely sullen by the track, suddenly come back to life to give a standing ovation.

Although her music has frequently been overlooked since early successes, Rickie was able to easily perform a set of relatable songs and stories and leave you feeling like she has bared her soul, but also that there's still so much more to her. Live in concert, Rickie Lee Jones was simply THE ultimate 'getting high on music' experience.

lEIGh5

Chris Bowes (Alestorm) interview 2010

DAVEY JONES' ROCKERS

If you've ever thought what's been missing in metal for years is the unbridled spirit of drunk-sounding, burly Scottish men in pirate costumes, my friend you are in for a treat with Alestorm. Their two albums so far, Captain Morgan's Revenge and Black Sails at Midnight have seen this band from Perth, Scotland forge their own path in the battle metal genre… By dressing and performing as pirates. Tonight, the not-so-sinister Captain Chris Bowes is - after a few ales - at the helm and ready to cast one good eye over a few questions on why life as a drunken, moroding, wench-chasing pirate rocker was so appealing.

"Because Scotland is such a fucking boring country, so you might as well start a band and pretend you're a pirate." The singer says, as a matter of fact. Seriously Scotland suck so many balls. Rubbish place. Chris continues his moan after being asked his opinion on Scotland's amazing musical history. "Its all fuckers with accordions and violins playing crappy granny music. Plus the weather's shit too. There's nothing good about Scotland." A more tactful turn is needed, so we discuss Chris's songwriting. As vocalist and keytar player in Alestorm, it is also his duty to keep the piratey songs coming for the band's singular theme; "Usually after a case of beer and bottle of vodka I'll get into the mood to maybe write some stuff." He laughs, I sit down at my keyboard and start writing and these little pirate songs just come out. It's a magical process.

Alestorm's songs involve any and every reference to piracy you can name prompting me to ask if a serious interest in maritime folk-lore motivates Chris; "None of our songs have any basis in fact or real stories from the sea, it's all stuff you can get from movies and computer games. You know, cursed zombie pirates and sunken treasure… It's all just a bunch of dog crap really. We're just doing this for the alcohol and because pirates are cool and get to wear eye patches. Chicks dig eye patches." He continues, "One-eyed guys get way more sex than guys with two eyes, this is a medically supported fact."

Despite his off-hand remarks, Chris and his band are one hundred percent into the whole pirate schtick. The stage shows, videos and album art all reinforce the band's angle, leaving the listener in no doubt that yep, it's very piratey. Chris says of the roots of Alestorm's fixation; "When I started writing songs I just let my mind wander, and one day it wandered to pirates as a subject to write about. I wrote this song called Heavy Metal Pirates, which ended up on our Leviathan EP, and everyone was like 'holy shit this is amazing, can you write more songs about pirates?' and next thing I find myself in a pirate metal band heading for Australia."

Musically, the band recalls early Dropkick Murphys, with maybe a little nod towards The Darkness. However unlike those bands, it's the keytar that dominates Alestorm's music. Chris interjects, "Oh aye, I can't play the guitar for shit, and I write all the band's songs. So of course everything I write is gonna be keyboard based. Every time I listen to most metal bands, I kinda wish they had loads of keyboards and synths and everything. That kind of stuff gives me an epic boner."

Having an image and a potential-filled theme is all a part of Alestorm's desire to stand out, Chris considers; "From a cynical perspective, too many bands all look/sound the same, so you gotta do something unique to be remembered. It's a lot of what got us where we are today." Audiences are flocking to the shows, too. This previously untapped branch of metal has developed a huge following overseas – although, Chris recons, not enough 'wenches' are showing up; "It's a fucking sausage fest, dudes as far as the eye can see. Breaks my wee Scottish heart."

Despite this set back, he's in awe of the love his band have been shown. "It's ridiculous, I mean we've been a band for probably two, three years maximum and we've toured the fucking world now which is rather wonderful. We've done all of Europe and the Americas so now it's time to hit the Antipodean shores and conquer Australia, as we say." Embarking on new turf for Alestorm has Chris excited, he sees Australian's in general as his ideal audience; "You're all a bunch of fucking criminals." He blurts out. Considering the reputation of pirates - rock'n'roll pirates even – it strikes me that the band might encounter difficulties when getting booked to play some of your more conservative corners of the globe. Chris claims; "Nah, we're a promoters wet dream, mate. Besides we'll do a show for a couple of bottles of cheap vodka, and get a huge crowd, so everyone leaves happy."

lEIGh5
 

Click to watch:

ALESTORM "Keelhauled" video

*

ALESTORM Live at the Corner Hotel (2010): Review

I knew this wasn't going to be just another show when what appeared to be a large pavlova cake sailed through the air out of the crowd landing on stage in front of the drummer with a tremendous splatter after just one song in. Alestorm singer and keytar player, Chris Bowes dips a finger in the mess and gives it a taste before throwing the remainder of the cake at the fans, saying "We're gonna get one hell of a cleaning bill tonight!" Anything seems likely to happen after this, and I joined the band in (probably) wondering if any more desserts were lurking in wait to be added vigorously to their rider.

Scotland's Alestorm, who by song and by appearance could defiantly shiver a few timbers, actually appear scared by the Melbourne audience's rabid response to them at the Corner tonight. I'm now certain they were expecting a humbled crowd, gasping at the primal display of ear splitting metal, instead the real brutes were in the pit en masse, dressed even more pirate-y than the band, making Alestorm appear as late comers to the party. But then billing yourself as a pirate metal band, meant that Alestorm were bound to attract your more debauched landlubber with a given excuse to drain the bar, gob all over the place, throw pavlovas and collect/deliver as many bruises as possible. The band's songs after all are about celebrating the hard living, hard drinking pirate and of course this theme has found a welcome reaction wherever they have played. It's easy to see why, I mean how can uptight emo bands or revered metal giants compete when a fan can leave a concert feeling like the band have just used you to mop the beer off the loo floor with?

Bowes, reading the crowd calls out, "Who wants to hear a song about big tits and beer?" Audience roars, Chris responds; "Good because we just so happen to have one of those!" The song of busty wenches and alcohol cunningly titled Wenches & Meade is too much for some fans and they begin hurling their bodies into each other at bone-cracking pace. All you can really hear coming from the stage is drums and shouting, but the muddy sound is a technicality really. You don't need to explore Alestorm's well crafted lyrics, but rather enjoy the simple repetition, much like listening to rhyming football chants. Despite this, Chris wisely announces each song with a massive build up so as to keep the momentum up.

As a live band, Alestorm are hilarious to watch as they deliver with such passion some pretty ridiculous anthems about beer, pillaging, Davey Jones' locker etc.. all in the single tempo of fast and raucous. Bushy haired singer Chris Bowe's voice is all angry growl, and kind of at odds with his narrow frame and feisty keytar playing. The rest of the band - rocking the beard with no moustache thang – looking as though they'd rather eat razor blades than crack a smile, played for all they were worth, but I still it felt like there was a little water in their gun powder tonight, resulting and smaller bang than maybe expected.


lEIGh5

The Paradise Motel: Australian Ghost Story (album review)

The theme of Australian-specific subject matter has been a constant in Paradise Motel's music and for that alone they qualify as a rarity. To my ears they are suitable carriers of the torch left once The Triffids expired as a band, especially on this new album - their first in eleven years. In the case of Australian Ghost Story, that torch highlights the dark tale of baby Azaria's mysterious death at the start of the '80s, and the subsequent trial by media - the first of its kind in this country - of the one-time accused woman at the centre of the story, Lindy Chamberlain. 
 

The story of Azaria Chamberlain's death has been told and re-told to the point of fictionalising and wild assumption; perfect fodder for a songwriter, which in The Paradise Motel's case has been generously applied. The band have lyrically always offered fragments of often menacing stories and scenarios of nameless characters, but with their new album set for release on the 30th anniversary of the Azaria's death, the subject of the stories has a name and the scenarios are documented. Really though, menacing is hardly broad enough a term for what is on offer here. Each track's narration jumps from reflection to mythologising to accusation incorporating the viewpoints of all the stories mainplayers, including the unique environment of the Red Centre. On opening track The Witnesses, it isn't apparent who the narrator, vocalist Merida Sussex, is voicing until the line 'my wife tracked the footsteps/we found her guilty' and the listener is suddenly reminded of Lindy's tragedy at having her husband turn on her during the trial. The song quietly berates the witness testimony's given credence at the time, yet avoids dwelling in heroes and villains territory as might be expected.

Chamberlain's trial is touched on during a couple of the songs, but it's the descriptions of the landscape and its role in the Chamberlian case, and when Merida gives a voice to Lindy that really draw you in. A Bend In The Terror for example sees the mother telling her deceased daughter 'now she is free', all the while reassuring herself and questioning her memory of the events, maybe even imbibing them so as not to forget the short time in which Azaria was alive. The imagined letter from Lindy to Azaria, Stations Of The Cross is kind of half spiritual babbling mixed with intruding cold reality, making for an engrossing finale to the band's rendering of this story. Musically Paradise Motel are swimming in familiar waters, they go between bare accompaniment and sweeping orchestral numbers, all while Merida's voice remains a central steady pace and pitch. Perhaps because of the subject matter, the band have gone for a more soundtrack-ish approach to the music. The string laden tunes are memorable but not distracting from the tales being told in the detached way in which Sussex sings.

The mood with which the band tells this now legendary story is at odds with such familiar things as the tragic-comical news footage often wheeled out showing Chamberlain's famous dingo remark. They instead choose to highlight things such as Lindy's deeply religious beliefs at the time of Azaria's death and the betrayal she felt by her husband and country. The Paradise Motel have written a concept album devoid of obvious romanticising about actual events, instead they present an impressionist, cloudy observation as would happen with a familiar story after many years of being retold.
 

I for one am overjoyed that The Paradise Motel have decided to record again after such a long break, and to tackle this particular subject makes their return all the more delicious. At a time in Australia when junk media trialing saturates prime-time TV, it's all the more important that this story and it's consequences for one Australian family are remembered. The legacy of Azaria Chamberlain's death has been a plethora of artistic statements; from the Meryl Streep film (Evil Angels), to countless paintings, and that bizarre opera to name a few. Australian Ghost Story is a fine continuation of that tradition and a very welcome return of The Paradise Motel.

 

lEIGh5

Click to watch:


THE PARADISE MOTEL: Brown Snake (video)

THE PARADISE MOTEL: Watch Illuminum (video) 

THE PARADISE MOTEL: Bad Light (video)