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?"

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Daniel Snaith (Caribou) interview: 2011

NIBBLING AT THE LOOPS

Speaking to me today, only fifteen minutes before he is due on stage at the All Tomorrow's Parties festival in the UK, Canadian-born Daniel Snaith's live set is to follow Holy Fuck's mind-twisting synth-storm, but his tone suggests he could just as easily be preparing for a quiet night in. Yet the anti-star producer/musician - who goes by the mysterious pseudonym, Caribou and moonlights as a mathematician - does indeed have a lot to crow about following the release of one of last year's most captivating album's, Swim.

Caribou (formerly known as Manitoba – it’s a legal thing), is a rapidly evolving monster, gathering plenty of new tricks with each passing release. Over five studio albums, Snaith has opted to bridge the gap between cold electro-blip wankery and luscious folk-pop with enchanting results. He’s blending organic instruments more and more with beats and loops and as Caribou's relentless touring continues and, as Melbourne is soon to discover, these days he leans heavier on a full live band.
 

"I"ve come along way from just playing my laptop on stage." He begins, "Last time I was in Melbourne it was January 2008, and my show has changed considerably since those simpler times." He continues, "There's four of us now - two drum kits, guitar and keyboard - and although we play heavily electronic-based music, having a live band doesn't restrict us to just jamming to a backing track or whatever. We can be flexible and spontaneous and that actually has increased a lot of possibilities for playing the songs live and so now, my favourite versions of the songs are the ones we play live right now." As a professor of mathematics, Snaith always has something to fall back on if the songs stop coming, but his drive to create music all but crushed a possible future standing in class-rooms.
 

"Yeah, I mean I loved doing my PHD in mathematics, but I can't say that I feel I'm missing out on anything at all because I chose music as a career." Daniel remarks, "Besides I see my obsession with music as a kind of healthy thing to pursue." He laughs, "With the exception of when I’m on tour, I want to be creating music all of the time because it's always a joy and a pleasure to do. It takes over everything really, and thankfully my wife's very tolerant of me being away for so much of the year." The growth in Caribou's music since his fairly basic early approach has of course meant increasingly elaborate concerts – although, he claims, artists like him have had to wait for the technology to catch up.
 

"The whole point of live music, as I see it, is to allow improvisation and freedom to experiment, but in electronic music, that has been seen as problematic I think by a lot of artists, and until a few years ago that really was the case, but technology now has made performing this music live far less limiting." He adds, "My music's always kind of fluctuated between electronic productions and more live band sounding, so I’ve always acknowledged the value of both probably equally. Over the last couple of years a lot of music I’ve been listening to has involved more exotic instrumentation and so on the last album (Swim) I experimented with some weird combinations, like fore example on Bowls. That has only a harp, bass drum and Tibetan bowls, and I doubt if I was working within the confines of a rock band, I would have even considered using those instruments, it would have been ludicrous." Snaith's bending of the rules of electronic music stems from a love of unearthing the latest rare grooves and re-discovering the music of his childhood.  Some have remarked on a '60s pop influence but one that's usually mixed with razor sharp beats, recalling The Avalanches at times. Snaith says of his current obsession.
 

"My sensation at the moment is scrambling to keep up with so much great music coming out from all over the place. For example there's this compilation of electro music from South Africa that came out on the Honest John label this year, and again I was like this is the most amazing record I’ve heard!" Dan laughs, "But what a great problem to have - too much good music to discover and listen to." He adds, "The key thing for me is being inspired by the spirit of this new music I'm discovering right now. In the past I think my records to a fault have been too much influenced by the music I grew up listening to – the psychedelic '60s or whatever. But this time I was much more aware of making my own sonic signature or stamp on the record."

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Graham Lewis and Colin Newman (Wire) interview: 2011

(L-R) Newman & Lewis

VITAL CONNECTION

London's Wire in some form or another have existed now for 37 years. But the band mostly associated with punk and experimental albums Pink Flag, 154 and Chairs Missing, have seemingly stood at the cusp of dissolve for most of their musical life. They rarely communicate, and spend more time on solo or side projects than 'doing' Wire, and yet have seen many of their peers rise and fall around them. Talking with the two core members of this seminal band - Graham Lewis and Colin Newman – it's difficult to draw any parallels at all with the pair, (who insisted on being interviewed separately), except that neither one sees any good reason to quit.

Both artists discuss their 37 year career – in and outside of Wire – as though strolling through a continually collapsing then self-repairing city, and the fact they are back with a new album and tour basically means the dust has momentarily settled in Wire world. In interview, Colin (guitars and vocals) takes the roll of the articulater, while Graham (bass and vocals) flips between surrealism (when he gets bored) and bluntness (when he doesn't like the question). Both however, are disarmingly personable and, in Graham's case, much more interested in what book I'm reading now than promoting Wire's twelfth album, Red Barked Tree.

It's Colin Newman then who helpfully gives an overview of working on Wire's latest release. "After many years of making records in a kind of patch it up as we go kind of method, this time I thought it'd be nice to try actually sitting down with an acoustic guitar and writing songs." Newman sniffs, "I took them to Graham and he wrote the words for some and I wrote words for others, and it was like what I imagine being in a normal band was like." He laughs, "So then the others learned the songs then we recorded everything in either first or second take, which is something we hadn't really done since the late '70s." Graham Lewis, from his adopted home in Sweden, confirms Wire's renowned recording method. "You can walk through a door over and over again, and each time you'll do it slightly different to last… but it's never going to be as natural as your first entrance." In their long history, it can easily be said that Wire have never fully attempted to gain popularity through their music Their occasional brushes with success were more often down to "misleadingly commercial" singles lifted from albums filled with bizarre noise experiments. Their concerts are usually remembered for the total re-interpretations of songs from across their catalogue, often ignoring fan favourites. Yet music-obsessive's, and particularly musicians from all walks, regard Wire as inspirational.


"I never have an idea of how people are going to react to our music when we're making it and that to me is the most exciting thing." Newman retorts on the topic of Wire's live shows, "We work with the basic shape of a song and after we all kind of grasp that, we feel as though it should be able to be added to or altered however the four of us want. The band as I see it is kind of in two halves right, and that's why you get punk songs with jazz arrangements or virtually one-take demos with loads of post production on them." Newman adds excitedly, One of the new songs, Now Was could have been taken a million different ways for example, but the magic thing is, and it's something I've always tried to maintain with Wire or with any music I do, is the best result comes when you forget you're a musician with so many years experience and just play like you're still learning." Colin as well as Graham have used Wire as a meeting place for much of the band's existence, while exploring a plethora of side-projects. While on a break from Wire in the early '80s, Graham produced and helped launch a then unknown young London artist, Matt Johnson's early recordings effectively giving rise to cult icons, The The. Meanwhile Colin arranged music for Virgin Prunes, Hawkwind and Dead Man Ray as well as recording solo albums. Graham's commitment to only one aspect of music, he says, was never a thought he entertained. Instead the point of Wire, or writing/producing any music, for him was always to remain creatively stimulated.
 

"Different activities always produce different results, you see." He offers, "I find walking or taking a bath to be more stimulating to me as a writer than sitting in a studio or being on tour." Graham explains, "I like to swim as well, which is a very sculptural expression – not much to do with writing I know, but I've found a lot of my music comes from not being around anything involved with music. I read feverishly and that is my most direct doorway into writing music, but again it doesn't really relate to music except for the way in which printed text is generally quite lyrical." While Graham seeks inspiration through avoidance, Colin by contrast can't help but sound structuralist in his description of making music. "How I think we get the best out of this band, is that we have a high level of discipline." He states "To me writing songs should be about completely separating 'life' from music. You have to create something that can't just be spoken or otherwise, what's the point?" Flipping between Graham and Colin's interviews, it's clear why they wanted individual appointments. They speak well of the each other, but like a punk Lennon and McCartney, theirs is a marriage of convenience rounded out by a need for opposition.

"The four of us in Wire belong to no tradition apart from our own." Colin confides, "Wire is honest in what it is… but what it is, is anyone's guess." He laughs. Graham Lewis on the other hand, considers an unusual childhood introduction to music most of us don't share as being an indicator of what exactly did give rise to Wire. "I remember being 11 years old and living in Suffolk, and it wasn't until years later I understood what impression it made on me, but at that time you would hear these broadcasts from offshore pirate radio stations played through very large speakers along the coastline, and depending on where you stood, you would hear very different records playing at the same time over the top of each other. So you might get Helter Skelter playing over a symphony orchestra, just blasting out of the sky." He grins at the memory, "I guess you could draw the conclusion that that bizarre mashing of records was where the idea for a band like Wire was born."

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Bill Elder (The Dynamites) interview: 2011

RESPECT YOUR ELDER

When Nashville-based song writer/guitarist Bill Elder formed The Dynamites in 2005, it spelled the end of a long retirement for the ex-touring band leader, who'd comfortably moved into the producer's chair to remain connected to his love of music. The birth of his group, who are now celebrated world wide for their classic funk/soul reviews, also re-launched the career of one of the '60s hottest soul shouters, Charlie Walker. Walker's credits included opening for James Brown's and Wilson Pickett's concerts, as well as fronting his own band The Sidewinders, who found fame in New York's club circuit back in the day. Walker's near-forgotten status during at The Dynamites' inception was considered somewhat criminal by Elder while all around the then producer, pretenders and plagiarists where being celebrated.

Nashville's contemporary music, Bill suggests on the eve of his band's second Australian visit, is largely riding on the state's name as a way of getting itself heard. The passionate New Orleans native does his best to not mince words about what he sees as 'The Tennessee Plague'. "We're totally outside of the whole Nashville scene. I absolutely hate modern country music so much, and that is what 99 percent of artists from Nashville are playin'." He laughs, "I avoid it at all costs… I mean, The Dynamites came together there, but we didn't play the Nashville game at all." Bill adds, "I will say this though, that place attracts some of the most incredible musicians I've ever had the pleasure of working with. If I wasn't in Nashville I doubt I could have assembled a band of the caliber that these guys in The Dynamites are."

In amongst Tennessee's long tradition of Grand Ole Opry and big hat-wearing stars of blue grass, a steady stream of soul and R&B acts wove its way through, and only in recent years has this secondary history seen a revival. While Atlanta, New Orleans, Chicago and New York, to a much greater degree cultivated their mostly black music heritages, the white country scene in Nashville reigned. However, Bill Elder, while assisting on an exhibit celebrating Nashville's contribution to soul, discovered a still thriving scene and was soon amongst musicians perfectly suited to his old-school writing style and improvisational approach to guitar playing.
 

"The Dynamites, at last count, are a collective of up to 20 people who I can call on at any time to play with." He beams, "So the line-up tends to shift from time to time which lends itself to making our shows evolve quite fast. Plus as a rhythm section that plays together more and more and as we do more and more shows, we've found that it becomes necessary to alter how we perform the songs because we get bored of 'em," he laughs, "Playing with so many gifted musicians, every day you always get fresh ideas coming through on new ways to perform the songs." The Dynamites new Australian release is Kaboom - an album originally recorded in 2007. The group toured a follow-up, Burn It Down, during last year, yet Bill seems quite content to re-launch his debut album onto a new audience.
 

"It's my view that a band should be able to pull from all their repertoire on stage, but then it is an interesting concept to back right up and go out in front of a new audience, or an audience who are only familiar with a small amount of our work and be kind of introducing yourself." He continues, "As we're putting these (new) sets together, we have made the connection that there's a lot of continuity in what we do. I mean they (Kaboom and Burn It Down) could almost have been a double album." Elder adds confidently, "But we go out there and make timeless music, man, so the way I see it, it doesn't matter what album we're playing from, it's all kinda coming from another time and place." If The Dynamites do belong to a particular time, they'd be most at home in the days of civil rights protests during the first wave of changing attitudes in the US. Bill, in his songs, makes a convincing connection between that era and today's equally complex human rights issues.
 

"A lot of everyday people were starting to become very active politically in the 1960's and I see that as an important flame to keep alive today." Elder assures, "That alone isn't something that necessarily dominates our songs, but it is a factor I'm interested in." He adds, "A writer should write with all of his mind, you know and one of the things I've tried to do from the inception of this project is keep one foot in the golden era of soul and stretch the other all the way to the artistry of modern times and keep the common threads intact, including what that music meant for people and how it can still say something important." Whatever the world has been up to for the last 40 years, it has left little impression on The Dynamites musically. That is to say, you'll find no inorganic intrusions on their albums, only a love of playing and a reminder of a time when music seemed intricately connected to great leaps in social evolution. Bill, along with his gifted band are sadly more like the exception than the rule in this age: it's a fact that hasn't passed him by either.
 

"Obviously the music business is a very strange place filled with peaks and valleys, and for a soul band like us to be allowed to do what we do, just because we love it, is kind of a blessing." He says, "Over the last year we've gotten to do many amazing things – a couple of the highlights being our Australian and European tours – sometimes I can hardly believe I'm able to make a living from doing this, you know. I really am blessed."

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Bryce Avary (The Rocket Summer) interview: 2011

SATELLITE OF LOVE

The festively named Rocket Summer is one-man band Bryce Avary's pop-punk vehicle, which has over the last 11 years, earned the young Texan an obsessive, although mostly US, fanbase. The obvious contradiction in Avary's music – a somewhat grown-up, joyful take on the emo/screamo movement – created a small, but steadily growing shift away from the more self-absorbed facets typical of the genre. His songs, much like the man himself, lean towards tentative optimism and taking responsibility for oneself, all with a gleam of building resistance to life's nasty bits. 

Avary is a prodigiously talented musician and genuinely nice guy. But as we talk ahead of his debut Australian tour, he displays a kind of sheltered but verging-on-breaking-out persona. His life as a musician began at the age of 14 yet at 27, his wonder at the world outside of his hometown of Colleyville, Texas seems still largely intact. His recordings – four albums so far – have all been written and produced within Texas and he has undertaken very few overseas tours. The long haul to Australia must seem daunting, I propose, as Bryce sleepily gathers his thoughts on tackling all new terrain.

"It was something that probably should have happened long ago, but the stars just didn't line-up until now." He begins, "I'm super excited about it though, and I know a lot of people have been waiting a long time for me to get down there, so I'm really motivated to play the best possible show for them." He adds, "Australia's going to be getting a pretty well oiled machine because I've had so many years touring in the US, and so I'm confident we can win you guys over. But as far as playing to a new audience goes, I have the feeling I don't need to worry too much about people not knowing my music, because I get a lot of requests on (various social networks) to come down and play." Our conversation is punctuated by the sound of cars on an open road; Bryce tells me he and his touring band are gigging around their home state in warm up mode for Soundwave.
 

"I'm currently driving around Texas in this crappy rented RV, and it's got all of these photos of kinda cheesy all-American families plastered all on it." He laughs, "It's like a travelling billboard for this company called Cruise America!" Bryce's main companion on tour apart from his guitarist, bassist and drummer, is his wife Tara who runs the merchandise stall at the concerts. Although she's not musically involved with his band, Bryce credits Tara as his muse - and quality control expert. "My wife is my musical metre of what's bad and what's good." He confirms, "She always tells when something's crap or not if I'm ever getting too caught up in myself."

Avary as a child took up several instruments including guitar, drums and keyboard and was fluent in each one before he turned 14. He developed early on a love of hard rock – "Iron Maiden, man anyone who plays guitar has gotta love Maiden!" - An influence that's hinted at in even his poppier tracks – but naturally, it was a local favourite Bryce fell hardest for. "Yeah, Pantera are from Dallas, so they were really huge here and were one of the first bands I got totally into." He adds, "Probably my favourite band now though would have to be The Polyphonic Spree, who we actually once had to play directly after at a festival." He exclaims, "I remember thinking, how do you follow a 35 piece vocal band with our little touring quartet? It was a very, very hard act to follow!"

As Bryce prepares for his Australian rock festival debut, thoughts of having to follow a Polyphonic Spree show are soon replaced by ones of sharing a bill with Iron Maiden. Avary continues, "I doubt very much that we'll be on anytime close to Maiden, let alone after them, so it should be okay." He laughs, "We tend to get a much younger audience at our shows, which is great, but that does kind of affect when and where we can play also." Bryce's music, at casual glance, sits somewhere in between power-pop and punk. The Rocket Summer's addition to Soundwave is a testament to the festival's offering of rock acts from all styles, but the less forgiving US metal festivals circuit lead to a toughening up of Bryce's shows, he explains. "When you're competing with much bigger bands who already have a really strong fan base, you can't be too precious about your set list. I want every person that comes to see our show to walk away going, 'that was brilliant'." He smiles, "I don't want them to go away thinking 'it was okay, but I missed MXPX for that', you know!"

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Martha Wainwright interview (2010)

DAUGHTER OF GLORY

Talking to a member of the Wainwright family about music, one can't help but feel like a student in the presence of a particularly well-informed teacher. This brood of freakishly talented Canadians were seemingly born to keep a musical bloodline going as though it were royal title being upheld at all costs. Yet the family's eldest daughter, Martha Wainwright embodies a performer somewhat less burdened by titles and more intent on getting by on her own steam. Part traveling troubadour and part bluesy mama, Martha and her close-knit band, which includes husband Brad Alberta, are en route to Australia this February, along with a brand new bearer of the famous Wainwright genes. "This tour has changed dramatically since we were last in Australia because we bring baby along now." Martha beams, "It's all very un-rock'n'roll, my show!"

Wainwright's near-annual visits to Australia over the last five years are largely down to a childhood fascination with the place. She happily recalls the thrill of her mother's return from touring here - as part of the famed McGarrigle Sisters – and the tacky souvenirs only one so young could covet. "I remember when I was little, my mother would bring home these cute koala bears you'd clip on the end of your pencil and these painted boomerangs, which was so exciting for me." Martha laughs, "I never knew where Australia was, but I think I did draw the conclusion that there was an Asian connection because she would always go to Hong Kong at the same time as Australia. Later on when I was a teenager I traveled around a bit and would meet Australians in Europe or the US, just backpacking and they always seemed to me like they were from this magical faraway land that I'd only known about from my bizarre collection of gifts."

Martha has arguably become the most loved branch of the impressive Wainwright family tree in Australia. Even her mother never knew the level of admiration her daughter has achieved here, and so, after Kate McGarrigle's death at the start of the 2010, a particular memory for Martha is held dear. "You know the last time my mum was in Australia it was for the Leonard Cohen tribute show at the Sydney Opera House with Rufus and myself and we were together, just the whole time." She adds, "It's kind of cool to think we got to share the same experience in this far-off place my mum had visited when I was just a kid." Many fans would be quick to identify the subject of Wainwright's notorious blues rant from her 2005 self-titled album, Bloody Mother Fuckin' Asshole as being her father, Loudon, but notably absent from both Martha's and Rufus's work is an undeniable ode to Kate. Many fleeting references do appear, however and Martha stoically offers a fine tribute in words befitting any song.

"As an artist she was a very talented and growing up around somebody who already had the basics well and truly down was a great start for me to becoming a singer." She reflects, "But more so, as a female watching her growing up in Westmount, which was a nice neighbourhood, was very inspiring because mum was probably the only single mother, and certainly the only working artist. Through her I understood early on that identity is not about traditional gender roles and also that somebody can be a free spirit and still keep their shit together." Although Martha's first experience of being on stage was through drama class, she wasn't to resist the path each of her parents, and older brother Rufus, took for long. Martha sang and played in Rufus's band while gradually building her own songbook from the wings. It seemed as if a music career was beyond anyone's escape if they were born under the Wainwright name. Risking a burn, I propose that the right of the child is to rebel and oppose the will of the adult, but Martha claims, she was by no means bored by her parent's and their grown-up world of folk-music.

"Kate was not overly ambitious career wise, so music still has this joyful, pleasant feeling attached to it for us  as kids as opposed to just seeing it as a job our mother did." She explains, "If she had been a lot more withdrawn from us and motivated to further her career instead, I think we might have ended up resenting music in a way." With only a few exceptions, Martha Wainwright's songs, are mostly thoughtful, witty affairs but 2009 album, Sans Fusils, Ni Souliers, a Paris (a tribute to Edith Piaf) demonstrated a darker side to Martha, and offered fans a peak into her obsession with a quite tragic figure in music history. Following Kate's passing, Martha's cabaret-style tribute shows for Edith Piaf, have an added gravitas and, the singer explains, an unexpected comfort.
 

"I think that singing some of these Piaf songs over the last year is very helpful in dealing with pain and suffering. A lot of them are quite tragic in a way, and so that expression feels right to me and gives me some context for my own loss. As an artist it's hard to know how to put into words exactly how I feel right now about Kate's passing because in many ways I'm speechless about it. I'm still in shock and so I can't write about how I feel because I want it to be right and honest. In a way I feel quite paralysed." Martha's re-interpreting of Piaf's work was never just a between-albums-muck-around-project. It has come from a life-long fascination with the star of Parisian cabaret. She elaborates. "Both my brother and I always have been interested in older music from the '20s, '30s and '40s...You know standards, and so I was listening to Piaf as a kid. I was comfortable singing in her style because to me, growing up with that, I understood her and her music already so well. Plus we spoke French fluently at home, and so there was never a language barrier either." Martha's Piaf fixation, not unlike Rufus's keen interest in Judy Garland, was naturally enough exaggerated by the fact that these artists were born out of extreme conditions and died by the very same. Wainwright explains further.

"When I found out she used to sing on the street that intrigued me even more as a young person. I always thought she'd come from café society, you know, but in fact it was more about bar society." The playground of the bohemians in Paris was of course the dive bars and brothels, where many talented but poverty stricken artists gathered to sing/paint/write/fuck for their suppers. Martha adds. "My image of Piaf was the ultimate, exciting Parisian performer, but her life was so tragic and sad." She adds. "Having said that, in my shows when I'm doing the Piaf songs, I'm not trying to conjure her up – I'm not acting her out on stage - I'm really just trying to passably sing some her amazing songs." As her brother's Songs For Lulu concert recitals - which commanded audiences to remain completely silent throughout - are reaching their conclusion, I ask Martha what her impressions of Rufus's own tribute to Shakespeare, death, despair - and their mother – were.
 

"Well, I toured with him for a month in the US and so I got to see him perform that show every night." She says proudly, "I found that because I didn't applaud, my own reaction was stronger and more palpable." Martha pauses, "it was more internalised and therefore the feeling I think was far greater. When you go to a concert usually there's a release and some letting go of feelings, and that's great as well, but I think it's nice to just observe sometimes and not intervene or participate. Obviously it was different experience for me because it's my brother, but I actually loved not applauding at the end of each song without feeling like it was somehow an insult to him!"

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Kirk Pengilly (INXS) interview: 2010

DON'T CHANGE A THING

The sensitive issue of INXS's post-Michael Hutchence years has certainly divided a lot of fans. It seemed as if everyone had an opinion on whether the surviving members should even have carried on at all, and when semi-permanent replacement singers continued to come and go, things didn't look good for the band's future or its legacy. Now that a new album of INXS hits re-arranged and re-sung by seemingly unrelated artists has arrived, the debating is set to continue. The project, titled Original Sin, sees the group teamed up with James Ash of Rogue Traders in the producer's chair, and a cast of widely known guest vocalists from all across the music landscape, with a common thread - each one an INXS fan.

To discuss the handing over of his band's songbook to some of contemporary music's finest singers, is Kirk Pengilly. The official band spokesman, guitarist, saxophonist and sometime leather trouser enthusiast, speaks proudly on the results of an idea that actually pays the greatest respect to their late singer, as well as reminding would-be detractors the undeniable power of some truly great songs. "We knew in doing it, we could receive mixed reactions but all the new arrangements were done by us - the original band - and each singer recorded their parts over the pre-recorded track." Kirk begins. "We didn't have a definite plan, we just knew we wanted to do something along the lines of re-imagined versions of a few songs." He explains, "We started off enlisting James Ash, who comes from a DJ background. You might remember Rogue Traders had a hit with a great remix of Need You Tonight, which is actually what prompted us to do this in the first place. We wanted him to have a go at remixing To Look At You - which was the first thing we recorded for this album - then we mulled it over for about six months and finally got him back in to work with us on the remaining tracks and expand on the remix idea by adding entirely new vocals."

The remainder of the album's re-workings are much less remixed, but rather covered by the band that wrote them, and sung by a few accomplished fans. You get some familiar voices singing in decidedly unfamiliar ways to songs you will know, even if you'd forgotten you did. Surprisingly, they haven't opted for the 'obvious rock hits' from the INXS back catalogue here, but choosing to go with The Stairs as opposed to Suicide Blonde from 1990 album, X for example is hardly an oversight. It's the career-spanning cross section of quality over commerce that ups this projects' interesting stakes dramatically, as does the unusual range of vocalists. Kirk says on how the careful selection process took place.

"We drew up a list of singers we really admire, and who we thought would suit a particular song. Once we started putting each one together it became apparent who would be the ideal vocalist, and in some cases that's actually how it worked out. Some of the singers we approached said they really wanted to do a particular song, but in a couple of cases we already had them in mind for something else and had to twist their arm!" 14 versions of INXS tracks were recorded for the project with 12 making the cut. Present is Pat Monahan (Train) on Beautiful Girl, but there's already a buzz about an unreleased version of this song by Brandon Flowers, which was dropped at the last minute. Kirk discusses.
 

"As it panned out, his manager I guess felt that it was a bit of a conflict because his solo album was released just before Original Sin. They didn't like the idea of him having a separate, unrelated track clashing with it, and it was most likely going to be the lead single." He says, "It was a remarkable version though, it sounded unlike anything he'd done before with The Killers." While we're in dream guest list mode, Kirk reveals a couple of names that for whatever reason, stayed on the drawing board. "I'd love to have worked with Chaka Khan, to be honest." He smiles, "Also I'd have liked John Mayer to sing on something, but he ended up only playing guitar (on Mystify) because he didn't have the time. The interesting thing we found was the most of the people we did end up working with where huge fans of INXS. Rob Thomas, who I'd known for years, was so humble and nervous about being in the studio with us and you kind of forget that some of these people grew up listening to us and they do see us in a certain way." When re-interpreting the tracks on Original Sin, Kirk explains the band's guests where allowed free reign to make what they would of the task.
 

"They were obviously restricted by the way we'd re-arranged the songs, but there were no rules really. If you listen to Ben Harper's version of Never Tear Us Apart, he doesn't follow the track, but does his freestyle soul thing, and it still works beautifully. Then there's Nikka Costa's version of Kick which is probably the most distant sounding track from the original in a way. What we found was that some singers were much more comfortable playing around with variations of their track and taking the chance to do something completely unlike what they're known for." Kirk adds that there weren't any 'difficult' artist interpretations that couldn't be used in the end. "No well Jon Farris, being the executive producer, was present at all the vocal sessions in London and Paris and he talked to the artists about what they wanted to do and made sure both parties were on the same page."
 

Pengilly recalls a surprisingly affable session with one Mr Thaws in London. "Probably the easiest session was with Tricky (on Mediate) actually. How he operates, is you get a couple of takes and if you don't like it, too bad!" He laughs, "He knows exactly what he wants the track sound like, and he gets it done so he can go off and have a joint!" Kirk adds of Tricky's selection, "Having him (Tricky) on the album was a no brainer - Michael was always a big fan of Massive Attack and the first Tricky album (Maxinquaye)." He adds, "Another person we wanted for similar reasons was Nick Cave. He was one of Michael's idols, but Nick unfortunately declined and I can understand why. He was good mates with Michael and maybe he felt a little nervous about being compared with him."

Not completely absent from Original Sin, but hardly prominent either is INXS's current official singer, JD Fortune. He adds his vocal to album closer, The Stairs, and it's perhaps the first indication of a more certain future with the band following the bizarre mud-slinging he engaged in after his first world tour with INXS. But long before Fortune's launch pad, the reality show Rock Star INXS, and various stand-in vocalists for tours, Kirk himself was the pre-Hutchence lead singer of the iconic band. He happily recalls of those simpler times. "When I met the Farris brothers, I had already been fronting my own band in Sydney and so I did slip into the roll of singer/songwriter with them." He divulges, "When Michael came along he didn't play an instrument and so it was very conspicuous him being on stage, although he was developing his confidence as the tambourine player in the early days of the band," Kirk laughs, "but he was also obviously coming into his own as a singer, so what happened was we decided he should take the lead me step into the roll of guitarist and occasional sax player." Kirk claims he never even considered reprising his roll as lead singer following Hutchence's death in 1997, "I would never want to front INXS that would be crazy. Besides I wouldn't have the confidence now to take the knocks from Michael's fans that JD has."

As the band's official archivist who's been keeping daily diaries since their very beginning, Kirk had a major roll in compiling recent biography, Story To Story. On his word, some more embarrassing tales were cut out – "Don't want the kids reading that!" - and on occasion, he had to make the tough call on what Michael's fans might want to read or not read about his life. "The original draft had a much larger portion devoted to Michael and Paula Yates' relationship and that definitely needed to be cut down a little." Kirk says, referring to the late couple's ultimately destructive pairing. "That was a whole other story outside of the band and we had to make a decision on whether fans wanted to read about the demise of these two people, or about stuff that was directly related to the band, and I think it was the right thing to do in Michael's memory."

Considering the memory of their much adored singer, INXS have very likely made their greatest post-Hutchence move yet by recording Original Sin. Its part tribute album and part greatest hits, but it offers more to fans than either of those two things. The care taken in the re-arrangements and matching of voices to songs is undeniable, but putting it in long-time fan's terms, Original Sin is actually good enough to make up for Rock Star INXS... Almost.

lEIGh5
 

Click to watch:  
INXS "Devil Inside" with commentary by Beavis & Butthead!

Michael Hutchence, 1988

Stephen Fry: Last Chance To See (DVD review)

Last Chance To See: BBC DVD (Madman)

The wild-life documentary field has been, let's face it, exhausted of possible new angles. David Attenborough's engrossing commentary of a lion eating a zebra is an image I can safely say we're all quite familiar with. A recent, excruciating addition to the world of beasts behaving beastly on camera, include awkward English blokes hooning around the African planes offering, in strained excitement, a more hands on approach to the animal kingdom or Kaki shorts-wearing galoots you'd cross the road to avoid. It's funny then that Stephen Fry, as metropolitan as they come, has inadvertently rescued the genre from those agonising adventure naturists, who you always secretly wished would stumble right into an 'un-planned' hungry bear.

The story of Last Chance To See began with the late Douglas Adams, (yes, the author of Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy) who made several pilgrimages to see some of the world's rarest species in their natural habitats during the late '80s. He had intended then to revisit the same locations 20 years on (in 2009) but due to his unforseen death, Fry along with Adams' original travel partner, Mark Carwardine set out to finish Adams' work and report on his endangered animals' progress. Although finding out the level of certain species depletion is the goal, Fry in particular seems also to be on a mission to test his own limits, and gain a personal level of respect for these creatures as Adams had done. Fry is well read and experienced in untold magnitudes, but Last Chance To See reveals a surprising side to him – in spite of a lack of any conceivable comforts, he simply needs to see and touch to fully know what most of us are content to read about. It is however, Fry's ability to bridge the gap between big long science-y things and school boy attention spans that makes him so watchable. 

Before the Amazonian manatee has even been properly introduced and Adams' findings on the creature revealed (in episode one of six in the series), Fry delights in telling a popular held belief that drunk sailors used to mistake the manatees for mermaids and have their way with the blubbery mammals. The fact that their Caribbean-derived name translates as 'breast' is even further cause for his amusement. Not so hilarious though, is the first port of call in Fry's Amazon visit; he despairs at the sight of golf carts carrying chunky American tourists along cemented path-ways. His contempt for the tender-footed "thrill seekers" is barely masked, but the pressing matter of rare sea mammals to track soon takes over. The very real danger of being killed by poachers in the 'lawless' Amazon forest is one of the many challenges that await Fry and Carwardine, but when Stephen actually breaks his arm falling on a boat's slippery deck in the first episode, the viewer is left wondering is he more a risk to himself? Cut to Fry sitting on a beach in Florida – "the absolute closest hospital, darling", arm in cast, and the realisation that a broken bone was a small price to pay for not being shot and dumped in a muddy ditch.

Fry's feverish love of technology is well known - you may already be one of his Twitter-following minions – so watching him struggle through jungle settings without so much as mobile reception is close to painful. The pain is only added to by his frequent mentioning of this fact, but a part of me did want to teleport directly to the Brazilian rain forests and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, while saying something like, "It'll be alright. I'm sure I see a tower around that next bend." But the well mannered, endearing nature of Fry makes even his occasional sulks a charming addition to this adventure series, rather than a blight on its strange landscapes. The big lumbering fellow, in a particularly sorry-for-himself moment, had me in stiches as he patiently waited in driving rain for his obsessed travel companion to catch a glimpse of a manatee - which may, or may not be anywhere near the area. In these moments, Fry can't help but make his ordinary suffering seem fascinating, while others more adventurous pursuits seem tiresome, without a hint of narcissism.
 

The fact that Stephen Fry's basically the last of his kind, isn't an irony lost on this reviewer. He maybe saw the pipe and slippers looming once his comedic and dramatic roles were replaced by docu-reality films, but it's his obsessive quest for information that's prevented a great mind from wasting. He's never seemed satisfied with knowing that he knows stuff, so now Fry is learning about the Brazilian capybara, (for example) simply because he didn't previously understand very much about them and as the viewer you can't help but be fascinated with him, and hope even a little of his lust for knowledge will catch on.

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Fry... Out of his depth?

* A little diversion from my normal blog subject matter... But hey, it's Stephen Fry dammit, and much like a lot of music I write about on here and bands I interview, Stephen's language and work always fascinates me and seems to have a great resonance, I would argue somewhere in the same realm of music. *

Manic Street Preachers live in Melbourne (2010): review

Venue/date: The Forum, 20/11/10

Among the Metallica shirt-wearing punters filling the streets this Saturday evening, occasional glimpses of glam-attired bodies appear, all en route to the Forum. Tonight it's Christmas for the freaks of Melbourne and their long-awaited gift awaits them at the iconic venue. Long before the our early pressie - the Manic Street Preachers - arrival, fans gather and buzz about all things Manics, including rumours about poor attendances in Adelaide and unresponsive audiences in Sydney. In a flash, there's a collective unspoken 'decision' in people's faces that the band won't receive that same reaction here tonight. Eleven years have passed since the Welsh former glam-punks have played in Australia. At the time they were promoting their fifth album This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours, which still features heavily in their set, but fans of their edgier, earlier work were in for more of a blast than probably expected tonight.

The wait during support act Dead Actor's Club was unbearable for some and the Welsh flags began appearing, held aloft, early in the Melbourne band's set. Dead Actor's Club played a ripping electro-infused rock show, and definitely didn't outstay their welcome, but to my ears they can proudly claim the worst matched support to main combo I've seen. Think Regurgitator meets Short Stack, and your close. Following a lively intermission in which copious hardcore fans took the time to meet one another, each brimming with the same feeling as the next, we are suddenly joined by a huge portrait of Tim Roth filling the back drop. This image which announced itself recently as the cover of the Manics new album, Postcards From A Young Man receives a stars welcome.

From the pit, the noise is deafening as fans erupt to the sight of the Manics who are now in our midst; James Dean Bradfield looking robust and muscular as hell, Sean Moore's in his all black military regalia, and Nicky Wire's keeping the cartoon-glam flag flying with his collection of feather boa's extending even to his mic stand. The set kicks off with You Love Us, as every Manics' gig has since their debut, and rolls on blending the new with very old alternately. Regardless of age (of song or fan), the faithful here tonight know every single word and sing back to the band with fierce enthusiasm. The occasional shouts for fan favourites are ignored however, as they rip through a best of, of sorts which easily covers their entire catalogue of work. There are a few rarely played indulgences – This Is Yesterday, Australia, Motown Junk - but mostly it's the songs no Manics gig could do without – Motorcycle Emptiness, A Design For Life, If You Tolerate This... Muscling onto that list is sure to be this year's come-back single, It's Not War (Just The End Of Love), which although musically similar to Smashing Pumpkins' Tonight Tonight, already feels like classic Manics.

The show seems to gallop along at break-neck speed with each anthemic punk song following another, but James, who can barely be heard over his adoring fans, decides to show-off his awesome voice and sends his cohorts away for an acoustic interlude. Here's where the personal fanboy moment arrives, as James and I, strangely (for me), maintain eye contact for nearly all of Ocean Spray and sing it together. This gentle moment among the storm is over fast and before the second acoustic number, Everlasting, is finished James steps away from his mic and lets the packed Forum take it to the end for him. He seems genuinely thrilled by the response and, as Sean and Nicky return to the stage, our reward is the monstrous Faster. In his absence, Nicky's slipped into something more comfortable – a mini-skirt, paired with sailor's hat and jacket. He yells into his mic, "In Sydney, they thought I looked ridiculous... But what the fuck do they know about fashion!" Cheers all around, and Melbourne's Manics fans collectively shower Nicky with wolf-whistling approval.

It's rare to see the band's true firebrand – Nicky – disarmed, but lumps were in throats all around as he took a moment to describe the ongoing loss he feels for long-lost Manic, Richey Edwards. Wire and Edwards' shared a writing partnership within the band and bonded over their bodies failings – both were frequently ill – and so we all shouted extra hard for Nicky during No Surface, All Feeling, a dedication to his lost bro. It's a fact that the Manics never, ever do encores, so the momentum as they plough towards the finish, only spirals up and up. They beef up the stirring, usually mid-tempo Tsunami for the live set, before roaring through a vital-as-fuck Design For Life. Hands raise, stomping commences, and hysterical screams fill the air, but we all know it's in vain once the guys exit the stage with a final wave and a bow. Maybe Sydney and Adelaide didn't exactly pull out the red carpet for the Manics on this tour, but from where I stood, Melbourne had a fresh rug made, poured them a glass of bubbly and insisted they stay the night. If our unspoken mission to butter them up into coming back before another eleven years pass works, only time will tell.

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MELBOURNE SETLIST:

YOU LOVE US

YOU'RE LOVE ALONE IS NOT ENOUGH

MOTORCYCLE EMPTINESS

IT'S NOT WAR (JUST THE END OF LOVE)

ROSES IN THE HOSPITAL

AUSTRALIA

THIS IS YESTERDAY

EVERYTHING MUST GO

SOME KIND OF NOTHINGNESS

YOU STOLE THE SUN FROM MY HEART

OCEAN SPRAY

THE EVERLASTING

FASTER

NO SURFACE ALL FEELING

LA TRISTESSA DURERA

SUICIDE IS PAINLESS

MOTOWN JUNK

IF YOU TOLERATE THIS YOUR CHILDREN WILL BE NEXT

GOLDEN PLATITUDES

TSUNAMI

A DESIGN FOR LIFE

Meeting Nicky Wire... (aaahh!!)

 all pics by myself and Fruitbat.