Sunday, December 30, 2018

INTERVIEW: Jon Spencer (September 2018)


Sixteen years on from Jon Spencer Blues Explosion’s brief flirtation with the mainstream on their infectious lycanthropic anthem ‘She Said’, the trio’s all-hollerin’ frontman recently unleashed the first album released exclusively under his own name. All riffs, swagger and shimmy, Spencer Sings the Hits (tagline: “The world’s most beloved melodies on one long-playing high-fidelity recording”) offers up a delirious grab-bag of knowing riffola as Spencer’s whooping vocals encompass everyone from Mick Jagger and Elvis to Cramps frontman Lux Interior.

I chatted with the New York-based performer – also a veteran of garage-rock favourites Boss Hog and Pussy Galore – on the eve of the album’s release.

How’s it going, sir?

Good, thanks! You said ‘Chris Carter’…? 

That’s right.

Not the Chris Carter…?!

Not the X-Files guy, no…

Isn’t there a Chris Carter who’s a member of… who’s the guy from… I was thinking the Throbbing Gristle member.

No, not that one either. There’s also a crime novelist over here who writes books called things like The Night Stalker which you always see advertised at railway stations. People feel compelled to send me photos every time they spot one…

Wow!

So correct me if I’m wrong, then, but after all these years, this is your first exclusively solo record, coming out solely under your own name. 

Yeah… yeah, that’s right. I’ve made lots of records, I’ve had a few different bands, but this is the first proper solo record. I mean, I guess I was not too jazzed on the idea of doing it as a solo record or going out on my own name – I’d much rather use a band name – but it seemed it might be the quickest way to clue people in as to what the music sounds like, and what to expect. So yes, this is my first solo album.

It’s a lot of fun – it’s a real hip-shaker, this album.

Well, thankyou!

Musically, the songs on the record have two specific components: the riff, and the swagger (or the shimmy!) – and they all seem to tie together really nicely with whatever the song’s title is. Which comes first of these elements when you’re writing a song, or are they inextricably entwined?

Well, mostly I like to write with other people, but with this record I didn’t have a band. You know, I was sort of between bands and really wanted to have a band [laughs], but there wasn’t one around – so I wrote these songs by myself. It’s not the one time I’ve ever done that – when I was just starting out with Pussy Galore, on a lot of those early Pussy Galore records I was writing the songs on my own and then presenting them to the band. So with this record, with Spencer Sings the Hits, I probably wrote ’em… well, I did write the songs in New York City last summer. 

I guess the thing that came first would be the riff, you know, because I was writing with a guitar. So that was how they started – I would make quick recordings of things which caught my fancy, things I liked, and then began to sort through those… notes, if you want to call them audio notes, and began to flesh things out, put things together. The next step was to make demos, just in my apartment, using GarageBand on my phone! And so by that time, the songs were more ‘song-like’, you know, with different parts and words.

There’s a lot of banging and clanging going on throughout – what’s being smacked in the background here?

Uh, there’s a lot of different pieces of trash, it’s all metal stuff – if you want to see photos of some of the items that were clanged and banged around, you could go to the Shove Records Instagram account. Some of the early posts there, there’s at least two if my memory serves correctly of some of the percussion tools that were used on the record. Yeah - it was, I guess, a throwback to my early days with Pussy Galore again; to use metal percussion, and sort of a nod to my industrial roots – bands like Einstürzende Neubauten or Test Dept. My first band, Pussy Galore, was a group which had somebody bangin’ on pieces of metal. So this is, I guess, a “return-to-form” in some way. On the record, I played everything – all the percussion was overdubbed once the basic tracks were done. We tracked live in the studio, where the band was myself and Sam Coomes playing the keyboards – the keyboard bass synth. M Sord was the drummer, and once we got the basic tracks done, I added other stuff: most importantly, the singing and the percussion.

Since we’ve been playing live - we’ve done a tour in the States here in the summer and we’re going to be headed to Europe in October – we have the same guys on the record: it’s Sam Coomes and M Sord, but I drafted Bob Bert to come and play percussion, and Bob is the same guy who was in my old band Pussy Galore, bangin’ on metal back in the 80s. So it really is a serious trip back in time! [Laughs]

I say this with the greatest of respect, because it takes skill to do this with music and still make it compelling, but the album as a whole doesn’t seem to really be about anything! If it does have an overarching subject matter, it is precisely that which it expounds: the lure of the groove. Do you think after 30-odd years it’s a kind of joyful affirmation of what keeps you going?

Well, you know… yeah, that’s a nice way of putting it. Personally, I would like to think there’s a little bit of substance in there [laughs], but I guess as a lyric-writer I have a different vantage point, or a different perspective. But I think there are definitely songs on the record which are kind of about playing in a rock‘n’roll band – as I said, it was something that was playing on my mind: I miss having a band, I wanted to play in a band… But when I was writing and making the record, I tried to move quickly, and I tried not to agonise or overthink decisions… try to move somewhat quickly, and to trust my instincts.

I really enjoyed the video you put together for ‘Do the Trash Can’, and it’s a visual style you’ve returned to a bunch of times over the years. 

Yeah, I mean, I’m a fan of B-movies, of horror movies and science fiction. The credit for the video really needs to go to the person who made it, Andrew Hooper, who’s a young filmmaker from Sacramento, California. It was meant to be… we’re actually making a proper video for the song – we filmed it the other week, but it’s not going to be ready… the premiere’s not ’til October, I think. That was meant to be a visualiser or something – but yeah, I like it. It’s not the first time I’ve employed that kind of imagery.

What is it about that B-movie aesthetic – all the horror movie iconography and such – that attracts you?

Uh… I don’t know! I like being scared, I like things which are different and strange – I’ve always had a soft spot for horror ever since I was a kid, and since I’ve grown up, it has stayed with me. It’s a good question – you know, as I got older, music became the overwhelming obsession and passion for me… but it was, I guess, in a similar sort of way, music that was strange, or ugly in certain ways. You know, you could maybe even call it a kind of ‘monster music’! I was drawn to kind of ugly sounds – you know, punk was antisocial in some ways, it could be argued. Why…? I don’t know! [Laughs] I guess it’s what I’m trying to figure out. But, you know, maybe the reason this stuff appeals to me, or sparks something inside of me – horrific imagery, B-movie imagery, aggressive music or outsider music, outsider culture in general – is that I feel in some way an outsider from society, so this is what speaks to me.

I’m interested to know, then, particularly in light of what you were saying about that idea of making something from nothing, or repurposing really primitive elements: do you see yourself as part of that American tradition of artists on the fringes? People like the Ed Woods, Samuel Fullers and Edgar G. Ulmers from the 50s?

I guess, you know, I’m certainly familiar with those artists. I can’t really… I can only guess to their motives, but my hunch is that those people aspired to the heights of celebrity, the heights of culture – that they didn’t think of themselves as making ‘outsider art’. For me, I maybe don’t… It’s the same – I think: “Oh, I’m making a hit record!” [Laughs] I understand – I’m aware, and self-aware enough, that this is not really palatable to most people, but it’s what I want do, and maybe it’s the best I can do, you know? But I’m not trying to be wilfully obscure – I’m not doing this because I want people to go away; I’m not doing this because I want to be ignored. The more people who want to listen to Spencer Sings the Hits, the better – the doors are open for everybody. I welcome all-comers.

I remember when Radiohead put out The Bends, they kept getting a question related to the lyrics of the title song, where it says: “I wish it was the 60s”. But it seems to me like - particularly with your album title this time around – it taps into that very late-60s thing where anyone could say “Oh, we’ve made a hit record – we’re playing the hits”. Do you think you’d feel more at home in that sort of time period?

Well, I mean, really… I’m old! You know?! [Laughs] I was born in ’65. I don’t remember much of it, but the hangover from the 60s lasted through much of the 70s. As someone who grew up in America, and where – yeah, like I said, I was alive for half of it; I don’t remember much, but there was that 60s hangover – that was really formative years for me, and left a great impression. So yeah, I think that’s in my blood, in my DNA, and it informs the way I perceive the world and the way I make a record like this – certainly the kind of ridiculous title, Spencer Sings the Hits, is coming from that kind of world. Do I think of that time, that era – do I wish I could turn back the clock, do I wish I could go back to that time, or do I think that things were better…? No, I’m not pining for another age – and I’m not a Luddite, either. If anything, I’m looking towards the future, you know? I have great hope.

It seems to be a very specifically American phenomenon – the fact that pop culture has so many iterations, it’s constantly moving forwards and leaving things behind, yet inevitably ends up recycling and cannibalising itself. Do you think you’re a very specific musical by-product of a culture like America’s?

Uh… by-product, or just product?! [Laughs] They have their… Again, there’s like that: hey, I love to talk about B-movies, I love to talk about people like Ed Wood… I love to talk about underground culture, or trash culture, if you will. But I’m a little sometimes reluctant, because I don’t want… Again, I’m not like: this is just a joke, or this is a throwaway. There is a subtle shade – there’s a difference. There’s a weight, or a kind of meaning between the two words ‘product’ and ‘by-product’.  Yeah – it’s a rock‘n’roll record, Spencer Sings the Hits: rock‘n’roll is a fertilist kind of artform, but it still is a very powerful artform. I’m aware of the contradictions, you know…? But I’m also kind of… for me, it’s serious business.

You’ve been around for a long time now – you very much walk the walk and talk the talk. There are a couple of songs on this record which really kind of sum it all up in terms of what you stand against - particularly ‘Fake’ and ‘Beetle Boots’, where you address the idea of the motivation for making music being there, but the elements not being in place for some people to make it authentic. As someone who’s managed to stay the course over the years, what are those elements, and why do you have what others don’t?

Oh, jeez. [Laughs] Uh… I… uh… it’s hard for me to answer a question like that, in the same way I guess that it’s easier for me to write a song like ‘Fake’ or ‘Beetle Boots’ which is sort of pointing a finger and condemning someone else – as opposed to holding a spotlight up to myself and saying “I’m the King of Rock”! Even though there’s a grand tradition of boastful songs in rock‘n’ roll and the blues, it’s not the easiest thing for me. So I don’t know – I think that one of the things, perhaps, is like I tried to say earlier: this is important to me, it’s something that I take very, very, very seriously… it’s done with great purpose and great precision, and with great care. And it’s done in a… I’m not sure if I can say this in the right way, but it’s done for itself, you know. It’s not done for: “Oh! I can sell records, and then I can buy a Mercedes Benz, or I’ll be able to meet girls or something”. The record - the song - is the reason.

I saw you live around about 2004 supporting The Hives, and I found it quite interesting that it seemed like what you’d been doing kind of dovetailed with what was going on in popular culture, or the predominant musical trends at the time.

Yeah, there were… I would agree with that, it was my impression as well that there were a few different times – the Blues Explosion had a very long run, and there were definitely a few different times where it seemed as if “Oh, yeah, here are some bands where I can definitely see us sort of rubbing off on these people”. Yeah… what was the question though…?!

Well, I may have misread this completely, but I found it really interesting watching that show, because you were coming off the back of a minor hit with ‘She Said’ but it felt like you didn’t seem to be that interested in holding the audience’s attention for any great length of time.

In the concert, or in the band’s career…?

This was in the concert itself.

No… it may have just been an off-night, you know? It’s… yeah, I don’t really know what to say! It’s not like we took the support slot because a manager told us to – you know, we took on the job of our own volition. It was not the practice of the Blues Explosion to drag our feet, or do things begrudgingly, you know? We always try to do our best onstage – so yeah, it’s hard for me to speak to that. Maybe it was just a bad show. I mean, it wasn’t supporting The Hives – I like those guys, I like that band and they were very nice people. It wasn’t my most favourite string of dates – I can’t really recall why, but… yeah, it wasn’t the best run of dates we ever had. But I certainly don’t have a memory of, like, just being pissed off and thinking, like “Fuck this! I can’t be bothered, this other band’s no good and their fans are a bunch of jerks”. [Laughs] I don’t remember feeling that way, so…

I guess what I’m driving at is that it sometimes seems to be the eternal curse of the bands who are the influencers themselves playing second-fiddle to the bands they may have influenced.

Oh, yeah. I’ve made a career out of that! [Laughs] But here I am, I’m still making records and still get to out on tour, so. Certainly there were things I could’ve done that would’ve made more sense if I was trying to “build a career” or something, but I wasn’t following that – I was following the music; following the muse.

We hear a lot about the “death of the guitar” in music, or the “the death of rock‘n’roll” – it seems like every couple of weeks there’s a new think-piece written about it. 

Yeah, I mean, that’s been going on… probably since the 80s, and throughout my entire career playing in rock‘n’roll bands. Yes, that has come up a lot – there was a huge wave of it in, I guess, the late-90s when you had bands like the Chemical Brothers who were very popular… yeah, mid-90s, late-90s. You know, to me it just seems so ridiculous because it’s just sort of like: well, yeah. It’s copy – it’s just meant to fill the paper! But it’s also… look at the people that they’re citing as the harbingers of the death of rock‘n’roll, people like The Chemical Brothers and the songs that were popular then by these bands that were “killing rock‘n’roll” or “killing the electric guitar” – to me they just seemed like rock‘n’roll songs! It made no sense to me.

What still gets your mojo pumping – are there any contemporary bands that spur you to up the ante, or is it still those original influences that get you going?

No, it’s still a mix – tomorrow I think we’re going to see Kid Congo with his current band, The Pink Monkey Birds. He’s had that band, this current line-up, for maybe five years – they’re such a good band he has going, and it’s great to see him… Their own songs are great, but it’s also wonderful to see them play songs by The Gun Club, and songs by The Cramps. Another current-day group I admire a great deal is Thee Oh Sees, from California. As far as European or UK… uh, example… I can’t think of one right now. There are some, but I’m spacin’ out! So yeah, there’s always people doing cool stuff. There’s always good stuff out there.

There’s a certain amount of knowingness, or performative playfulness about what you do - how much of a role does irony play in your writing?

Uh… not as much as people would like to think, I suppose…? You know, I had an entire band’s existence kind of called into question – just kind of, like… the Blues Explosion was routinely dismissed as an exercise in irony, and that wasn’t where I was coming from; that wasn’t where we were coming from. We were coming from a great love and respect for the music that had inspired us, and was inspiring us. So, yeah… there definitely is a kind of playfulness to my writing, especially as a vocalist – and perhaps that playfulness, or perhaps that light feeling, at time in its humour people will then get confused and mistake it for, like: “Well, this is just a joke – this is not a serious thing”. For me, some of my most favourite artists have that kind of strangeness or lightness, or sense of play – and that’s kind of what appealed to me about that: these were just freaks, and I mean that in the most loving way! You know, you look at someone like Charlie Feathers or Rufus Thomas… let’s look at Little Richard; let’s even look at Elvis Presley. These were kind of oddballs – but these were people who were struck with a vision and stuck by that; they pursued this vision for their entire lives. So I think the kind of weirdness – and yeah, the playfulness of these artists, I think they all share that. That’s always been a huge turn-on for me, and a huge influence. 

I came into this, and I started playing in bands - or wanting to play in bands - because I was so hung up with rock‘n’roll, with certain records and certain bands. And you know, it’s just like being in a garage band – like: “Hey, I love this song so much, let’s try to play it ourselves; let’s try to write some songs like this song”. So, yeah… I’m just going to end up repeating myself. Am I gettin’ the point across…?!

Well, the question I was leading to was: as a writer, are you a postmodernist? Are you someone who pieces these different threads together?

Well, that’s a really dirty word, you know?! [Laughs] But I mean, yes – aren’t we all postmodernists…?

Well, I guess so! But you personally, because you draw from so many different traditions – I’m interested whether you see yourself in that way.

Um… yeah. I think that’s probably a fair thing to say, sure. 

I see you’re heading out on tour with The Melvins to promote this record. Now, that is a seriously gnarly proposition that could almost be billed the Rock‘n’Roll Primitivism tour! 

Yeah – I mean, The Melvins, there’s another fine example of people who are pursuing a vision, and following their… making their own path, and they’re doing it – they’re following it, and they’ve been doing it for so long. Yeah, we just did a couple of weeks, or a week supporting them in the United States, and that’s a band I admire a great deal.

Do you find yourselves egging each other on to get nastier and gnarlier every night?

Uh… no. No! [Laughs] The Melvins do their own thing – they have their show worked out. It was very nice that they asked us to play with them, and they took us out with them on this US tour that just happened in the summer, because these were our first shows ever – it’s not like I had a band, and I’d written songs for the band and the band had been playing them, and then we made the record; as we discussed, I wrote the songs by myself, then we went out to the studio and taught ’em to these two other guys. There was no group that’d ever played this material live, so it was a challenge to re-learn all the stuff, and to figure it out as a new band. So the very first show we played as a band was at the First Avenue Club in Minneapolis which is famous from the Prince song ‘Purple Rain’ – it’s a big place, so it was a real trial by fire. It was very, very nice to be in the company of The Melvins, because they and their crew were very, very supportive people – and so I guess in their kindness and enthusiasm, yeah, perhaps they were egging us on to be nasty! But they were definitely, like I said, very supportive.

So finally, then, I always ask this of people who’ve had a long career in music: what are your five favourite songs that you’ve written, or what are the five that you’d most like to be remembered for?

Um… hoo! Well, if I had to… I don’t know if it’s fair to do this, but if I had to cite one or two from this new record, there are songs which I really favoured when I was recording and mixing them, but I think everything’s sort of changed now and it’s like: well, to be playing them live, to be playing them over and over again live, different feelings grow. I think ‘Do the Trash Can’ is a deeply satisfying song to play live if I wanna open the gates for other bands and other songs. Um… uh… you know, uh… I’ve always been fond of the Blues Explosion song ‘Talk About The Blues’ which we did with Dan the Automator – particularly because that song was really pieced together in the studio; it was a studio creation, it was not so much a band playing. Um… you need five…?!

Well, this is quite interesting that you don’t seem to be able to summon that many! When I’ve asked other artists the same question, some can name five off the top of their head, whereas some of them say it’s like try to pick your favourite children. There’s nothing that particularly jumps out at you…?

Well, like I said, there are songs from the new record which feel really good when they come up in the set, and so I have my current favourites. As far as the back catalogue - there are definitely… I can listen to records from old bands and think: “Yeah, I wish I’d done that differently, or I wish I’d mixed that differently”… it’s a mixed bag of emotions. But yeah, ‘Talk About the Blues’, by the Blues Explosion… ‘Bell Bottoms’, particularly the instrumental introduction for that song with the string section… um… uh… the song ‘NYC 1999’ by Pussy Galore… um… uh…

I mean, I ain’t gonna push you for five, if you’re struggling to name that many! I always just think it’s quite informative to see what artists think of their own work – and you seem to have quite a critical view, where you see it more within the context that you do it at the time.

Yeah, I mean, I basically control the rights for everything, you know? Nothing was signed away in perpetuity, with the exception of the Boss Hog record that was for Geffen. Everything else has reverted back to me with the bands – me, basically. So there are times when I’ll reissue something, prepare something to come out again, and so it’s always a bit strange to get things remastered or to go back and listen to these things, because it’s like listening to somebody else’s record. It’s a bit… yeah, it’s an odd thing!


Spencer Sings the Hits is available now via Shove Records.

INTERVIEW: Zeal & Ardor (July 2018)


If the music industry’s current litigious streak is anything to go by, it’s an accepted truism that there really isn’t much in the way of musical territory left to be forged – every genre permutation imaginable has now been used up, and every last time signature or melodic combination thoroughly exhausted. Composers and songwriters are all doomed to wander the earth in a plagiaristic stupor, warily dishing out a line of increasingly absurd co-writer credits to everyone from Right Said Fred to the Gaye family.

And then, just when you think you’ve heard everything music has to offer, along comes Swiss-born visionary Manuel Gagneux to set the raw pain of African-American history to pulverising blast-beats and coruscating black metal. With Zeal & Ardor’s full-length debut album, Stranger Fruit - the follow-up to last year’s attention-grabbing Devil is Fine EP - Gagneux has created what is hands-down the boldest, most audacious artistic statement of 2018. I mean, just look at that title, for fuck's sake!

For all their brutality, however, Gagneux’s band remains curiously listenable, packing an irrepressible groove and melodicism born of the repetitive chants which underpin its crunching musical foundations (ferociously brought to life by producer Zebo Adam and Converge / Kvelertak mixer Kurt Ballou). A musical companion-piece of sorts to Nate Parker’s searing recent film The Birth of a Nation, it is that rare album which achieves the seemingly impossible: it creates something totally new. I chatted with the coolly-spoken but surprisingly affable Gagneux from his base in Switzerland during the summer to find out more about his intentions and motivations with this project.

First of all, I’ve got to tell you – I can’t imagine there’s going to be another album this year that comes anywhere close to being as bold and startling as this one. I think it’s absolutely stunning, and I’m interested to know how you feel about me pre-emptively naming it Album of 2018 – not just musically, but socially as well.

Ohhhstrange! I mean, the year isn’t even half-done yet, and… I dunno. It seems confusing to me – but I’m happy, nonetheless…?! [Laughs]

There was a sense, I felt, with the EP that your sound was a bit of an idea-in-progress to start with, but this album really brings it out fully-formed. Would you agree with that – do you think Stranger Fruit presents a more cohesive vision of what you’re trying to achieve with Zeal & Ardor?

Definitely – I see Devil is Fine more as a proofed concept more than anything else, right now. Because, as you said, it doesn’t seem too cohesive - and quite eclectic, but not in a good way. And with this release, we really kind of defined it and gave it a cohesive theme.

The album’s press release seems to suggest there’s an additional concept at work this time around, which is the idea that American slaves revolted against imposed Christianity in the same way that Scandinavian black metal did. When did that idea enter the fray?

Actually, that was the idea of the concept of the band to begin with. But I think it didn’t really shine through - or come to fruition, if you forgive the pun! - until Stranger Fruit.

It’s become common knowledge now about where the idea for the band came from, but I’m interested to follow up on the fact that it was suggested on a 4Chan messageboard by someone who could best be described as an Alt-Right shit-stirrer, and at worst as a racist. Was there ever a moment where you thought “Alright, I’ll take your suggestion – oh, and by the way, FUCK YOU, here’s what that sounds like”…?

Oh, actually that was exactly the initial emotion, because I figured that the bigger “Fuck you” would not be to be offended – which was the reaction that person was trying to incite – but to actually make a song that would be half-decent. And I think by now I kind of achieved that, so there’s the “Fuck you”! [Laughs]

Did you feel like you’ve very much turned the joke on them…?

I do, yeah. But it remains to be seen if that person ever talks, or speaks up… we’ll see! [Laughs]

It’s kind of a cliché for writers to ask musicians who their major influences are, but it seems particularly interesting in your case. How about on the metal side of things, first of all?

Um, I really like people who try new stuff – I guess Devin Townsend really has a free approach to what harsh music can do, which I adore. And then there’s Mr. Bungle - I don’t know if that even counts as metal, but Fantômas and Mr. Bungle were huge influences on me, as far as metal goes. But straightforward metal… just, you know, basic stuff like Necrophagist, the death metal band… and of course, like, Maiden, and all the classics.

You can definitely hear the Devin Townsend influence – particularly all those pulverising blast-beats that you put in there.

[Effecting haughty, mock-indignant persona] “…I don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s a very original thing of mine…!” [Laughs] …Yeah, definitely.

What about in terms of the African-American musical history underpinning this – the chain-gang songs, the gospel and the field spirituals – where do you draw inspiration from there?

Uh, well, I was checking out old field recordings from the ’20s to the ’40s – there’s a huge library of them recorded by this guy called Alan Lomax, who basically devoted his life to recording the then-young nation of America’s folk music. And he went into fields and into prisons, and just recorded the people there. Most of them just remain anonymous – it’s all, like, up for grabs; most of them are in the public domain by now.

It does feel very ‘researched’ as a piece of work – the songs often sound familiar, yet still original in their own right. I remember there was all that business with Moby when Play came out, and he was accused of basically plagiarising African-American musical history - do you feel like you’re paying tribute to it?

Yeeeeah… I mean, I wouldn’t even be above saying that I plagiarise it also - but it’s a very delicate subject, because a lot of people feel very strongly about that sort of thing, or that particular brand of music. So to sort of ham-handedly try something would be maybe interesting, but not too wise. And it’s also just fun to properly research things – to me, at least.

I said recently that in an age of Black Lives Matter, you may have just hit upon the last great radical act in music. It seems to me like the very idea of Zeal & Ardor as presented is a provocation, particularly given the current climate in America. Was that ever the intention?

Uh, initially it wasn’t – but I think, especially with the political climate now being the shitstorm that it is, it would just be dumb not to address what’s going on. So I guess I kind of reorganised things to make it more - for lack of a better word - ‘topical’… or just more current, I guess.

Obviously we’ve had Childish Gambino’s This is America getting a lot of attention recently - do you see yourself as being part of that cultural conversation that’s going on, or are you sort of keen to distance yourself from that?

Um, I would never want to distance myself from that. It would be cowardice to. But I also am very cautious of capitalising on the situation – which would be the most evil thing to do, I believe. So I think just to have the commentary there without it being too blatant, to me is the best way to go, because it can be a very thin line between saying something important, and marketing people’s plights and making money off of it.

The reason I ask this is in relation to a couple of things – one is the album title. It strikes me that there’s no way you can call an album Stranger Fruit in the present-day and not know what historical parallels you’re invoking. When did that phrase come to the fore?

Actually, that was pretty much the… I had the album title even prior to going into the studio and recording this stuff. Yeah, the essential was always to address the orange elephant in the room, and not to do it in a way that was too on-the-nose. Because I think if you have a good message in music, that’s fine and dandy - but if the music isn’t good, you’re also ruining the message.

Secondly though, the lyrical content – particularly when married to the musical concept – seems to evoke very specific imagery and meaning. ‘Servants’ and ‘Row Row’ can be read as the empowerment of a slave revolt. It’s difficult not to hear the tale of the Amistad in ‘Ship On Fire’. And particularly interesting to me was ‘Don’t You Dare’, which appears to equate Southern racism with the horror of Satanic ritual. Would you resist that sort of a reading and prefer to leave it up to the listener’s interpretation, or are you happy to have it pinned down a bit more specifically?

Um, I personally would like to resist it… but I will also say you’re pretty much on the money as to where my intentions went with those songs! [Laughs] …Yeah.

I saw the band performing live when you supported Prophets of Rage at Brixton Academy last year, and no-one seemed to know to know what to make of you. I get the impression that maybe part of you is quite pleased with that as a reaction.

Well, yes - because in the end of the day, I’m a musician, I make pretty sounds… and that’s not even an objective description because, you know… people have opinions! But for me it’s important to get my words out, but I also don’t want to force my opinions on others. I think if you want to read into it, it’s certainly there; but if you want to just headbang to a rock song, it’s also a possibility. Because in the end, I don’t claim to have a more valid opinion than anyone else – but I just like to curate the state that currently America is in.

It seems like the way you present yourself as a band – six people in a line, all dressed in black, fairly static throughout – lends itself to the idea of it being an artistic performance piece that’s there to be absorbed in its entirety. Would you agree with that? Is the idea to have people sort of take a step back and really contemplate what’s going on?

Well, very much. Because, like I said, the option to just headbang is always there - but if you’re, say, more attentive, there’s small things we do onstage that might lead you to believe there’s more things at play there. To me, half the fun is having people guess what that is.

Are you happy with the idea of it being an opinion-splitting band? There’s a friend of mine who’s a music writer, and his reaction to the EP was basically: “I’m not sure that I get this”.  I said, “I’m not sure I do, either… but it’s brilliant”.

Hahahaha! Yes, I’m very happy with that. That’s pretty much the exact thing I was going for!

Does that kind of chime with your conception of art in general, do you think?

Well, yes. But I also feel that art which needs to curate or explain itself is weak art. So if you have an immediate emotion, that might just be what it is – but if you have more time, and maybe you’re smart enough to read into it, that’s also a possibility.

What’s the deal with these little instrumental pieces that crop up on the album and EP – they’re almost like musical doodles, in a way. What do they symbolise?

Well, to me it was really important to have the album be listenable in one go – so they’re kind of like a break for your ears…? They also serve as a contrast to, like, the rougher parts – them being as soft and gentle as they are, they make the rougher parts, the rougher tracks, seem even harsher. So that was the intent of them.

I know that quite a few major names in the rock scene – Tom Morello, Slash, Corey Taylor – lent their support or praise to Devil is Fine when it came out. How much of a boost was that? Was there a turning-point where you felt more confident to fully explore this idea you’d hit upon?

You know, I never really thought about that. But maybe it actually did boost the morale, as it were…? I haven’t really pondered that yet, but it certainly didn’t hurt.

Pretty much everyone is a Rage Against the Machine fan – what was that like, to support a band like Prophets of Rage?

Uh, super-bizarre! I think the Brixton Academy was one of the best gigs we had with them. We also opened for them in… what was it… not Andorra, but in Luxembourg.  And the people there were… very much there to see Prophets of Rage, and not us! [Laughs] It was so palpable!

Did you get bottled…?!

No, no, no. Nothing like that. There was, uh… a palpable ambivalence! [Laughs]

I saw Rage play back in the 90s and there was a guy called James Hall supporting them, who was sort of, I guess, a jazz trumpeter…? And I swear to God, I’ve never seen a more hostile reaction from a bunch of metalheads.

Oh, shit!

Yeah. They proper bottled them, but the band still managed to make it all the way through! When you’re faced with an audience like that, do you tend to get disheartened, or just really dig in?

You know, that only happened that one time. But we kind of bit into that apple, and kind of fed off it. Because there comes a point where you’re playing against an audience – and if you’re making angry music, that’s certainly a boost. So we had our fun! [Laughs]

I read a really interesting piece in which you talked about this idea of the logo branding which a few people have taken up at shows, and how deeply uncomfortable you felt about that. Can you talk some more about how that idea came up in the first place, and your own reaction to it?

Well, one of my biggest problems with modern music is that there’s this cult of personality – that you ascribe more to the artist than to the art itself. And to me that’s, like, basically giving in, or basically presenting yourself as a slave to that idea. So as an extension of that, I thought how funny would it be if there was a branding iron, and that would explain to people how silly it is. But I think the explanation part was a little weak, and people actually took us up on it! [Laughs] Proving our point, but… yeah.

Have you actually met anyone that’s done that, and tried to explain it to them afterwards?

Well, I explained it to them before… and I have to add now that everyone was sober during that; we wouldn’t do it to a drunk person. Uh… yeah! They just really wanted the brand, bro! [Laughs]

Well, who are you to get in the way of people’s dreams, I suppose…?

There you go. That’s what keeps me sleeping tonight…! [Laughs]

Just going back to the lyrical content again, there are a few tracks here which position death in a specific socio-historical context for African-Americans, but ‘You Ain’t Coming Back’ seems to tap into the idea of death as liberation for a slave. Is pairing these two very extreme musical forms an act of reclamation for you? An act of power?

Well, to be perfectly transparent, it’s just music I enjoy making. I think I could talk all day about how liberating it is and whatever, but I think I’d just be pulling those things out of my fingers after the fact. It’s nice; it’s a nice side-effect, but it wasn’t the initial intent. It’s nice to reclaim things even maybe as racially-stirred as black metal – but I just enjoy listening to black metal, so…

As someone who’s Swiss-American rather than African-American, do you feel in a sufficient position as an outsider where you can maybe comment on that and “get away with it”, so to speak?

I definitely enjoy a unique perspective, where I’m kind of an outsider and still have the liberty of using elements that other people might not have the luxury of using. But I don’t really think too much about that – it goes back to that really weird cultural appropriation discussion, where I just fail to care at some point. Because, you know, culture is something open, I believe – and if you’re protective of your culture, you’re just kind of regressive. It’s a question of intent. If I want to mock something, that’s a whole other thing than if I want to create something new of it. Does that make any sense…?!

It does make sense. I was saying recently that with your band, whether people get it or not, whether they even like it or not, sometimes it’s simply enough to be the first – and you are most definitely that. You’ve created something almost entirely unique – and that in and of itself is a remarkable achievement in this day and age.

…Yeah, but it’s not something I want to rest upon. I still want to do something good! [Laughs]

Well, I mean, it is good as well, of course! But, with that in mind, how long do you feel you can spin this concept out? Is it in it for the long run, for you…?

Uh, we’ll see – the moment that I think we have to force ourselves to make something new, or the moment there’s, like, an effort, or no excitement, or no fascination with creating something, we probably have to move on to something else. And I think there’s still stuff to be explored right now – but I see it as a finite thing, to be honest.

Devin Townsend is someone who has a slight electronic or industrial element to what he does – is that something you’d maybe look into exploring in the future?

Maybe! Maybe. But I’d maybe rather do something more leftfield. Honestly…? I don’t fuckin’ know, man! [Laughs] I still have to get the idea!


Stranger Fruit is available now via MVKA.

INTERVIEW: Levellers (May 2018)


“Perestroika, reform, glasnost”… 

Such was the unique historical backdrop against which one of Britain’s most enduring contemporary musical outfits emerged back in 1988. Still going strong three decades later – not to mention still kicking against the pricks in yet another age of despair-filled Tory rule - the Levellers have been celebrating their thirtieth anniversary in grand style with We the Collective, an acoustic album recorded at Abbey Road studios by no less a figure than legendary producer John Leckie.

Often a little overshadowed by their extensive library of up-tempo crowd-pleasers is a body of more adventurous material that the band have amassed over the years. It’s into this catalogue of riches that the sextet dive headlong on We the Collective, via a series of deep cuts and some serious reinventions of old favourites. Opening proceedings with a cheeky nod to ‘I Am The Walrus’ by the studio’s most famous proponents is the song from which the album takes its name, ‘Exodus’ - and it immediately becomes apparent that we’re not in Brighton anymore as the original’s Egyptian-tinged folk is transformed into an elegant orchestral paean to communal action by contributing string-players, the Moulettes. In its newest incarnation, an initially busky ‘Hope Street’ ultimately begins to resemble a malfunctioning carnival ride as woozy strings replace the sludgy metal riffs of the album cut. The primal fury of Zounds’ rousing punk anthem, ‘Subvert’ - previously only available as a live B-side - is tersely distilled into a two-minute statement of intent akin to a ticking time-bomb, while the usually strident ‘Liberty Song’ assumes a much more insidious tone at the outset before building to a moving crescendo in which the band mourn, plaintively: “The way we were is the way that I want to be”.

However, the album is by no means an exercise in what is admittedly resourceful nostalgia. Also contained are two new tracks which demonstrate conclusively just how relevant an outlook the band has maintained over the years: ‘The Shame’ pours scorn on politicians who wring their hands over an immigration policy in which they remain hopelessly complicit, whereas the acidic ‘Drug Bust McGee’ satirises those more unscrupulous members of Her Majesty’s constabulary who are content to shack up with the unfortunate souls they’re tasked with investigating. Combined with the canny track selections elsewhere, these two songs provide the glue which binds the Levellers’ past to the present.

Frontman Mark Chadwick always make for a good-value conversationalist these days, frequently going off on hilarious, splenetic rants about whatever happens to catch his ire at any particular moment. And yet it remains fascinating to me how he can still come across as slightly cagey in the initial stages of any interview - as if years of being misrepresented in the media have instilled a natural wariness towards even those who profess their allegiance to his endeavours. As what I’ve always suspected to be the artistic conscience of the band - not to mention their prickliest member when it comes to feeling that their more experimental efforts haven’t been given their due – I was interested to see if I could crack open the façade once again when we spoke shortly after the album’s release this Spring…

So let’s talk about We the Collective first of all. It seems a very regal way to celebrate the band’s 30th anniversary, a bit like when you played the Royal Albert Hall – was that your intention, or was it just a combination of circumstances?

…Yeeeeahhh, yeah, it is… Well, we could’ve done it in a squat in London - but no, we did it as it seemed natural, really. Yeah, it was… fortuitous. Firstly, working with John Leckie, and John did all his early work at Abbey Road and has got connections there – he said: “I want to record an acoustic album with you guys, how about we do it at Abbey Road, acoustically?” Which made a lot of sense to us.

It goes without saying that the record sounds absolutely fantastic – but obviously in your own studio you’re able to take your time and work out the kinks when you’re making an album. How daunting is it going into a place like Abbey Road, knowing that everything is going to be right there laid out in the open and there’s absolutely nowhere to hide? 

Well, yeah, it was sort of daunting, but it makes sure you get it right, basically. We rehearsed a lot in our studio with John, so when we got to the studio at Abbey Road, all we had to do was deal with the atmosphere of the place, which was great anyway. D’you know what I mean? It was just, like, microphones into a desk in a beautiful room, which you recognise the sound of anyway because of the records that we all know that were recorded there. So it was, like, capturing that atmosphere… we loved it, to be honest! We could’ve done longer there -  we were only there for five days, but I’d go back there and record another record any day. It’s just a brilliant place.

On top of that, you’re working with someone who produced what you’ve gone on record as saying is one of your favourite albums of all time, Radiohead’s The Bends

Yeah, yeah.

Given that you were in that situation with someone of John’s status, did you feel confident that you could pull it off, or were you sort of bluffing it the whole time?

Hahaha! No, no. Well, unless it sounds like it! No, we were very confident. We’re quite a movable feast as a band - we can do pretty much anything, given the right set of circumstances in which to do it. And so to record at Abbey Road with John Leckie was great, you know – yeah, it was fun. We always rise to the occasion. I think we have confidence in our abilities and our message, and what we’re on about in our songs – who we are and what we’re doing. We’re not sort of a paranoiac band; we’re very confident in what we do.

There are some serious reinventions here, including a handful of tracks that you wouldn’t necessarily have been obvious inclusions or you would think would stand up to this process; ‘Subvert’ being the most obvious example. What was the selection process for the tracks here – was it songs that you felt were the most emblematic lyrically in terms of your output over the years, or was it songs that you really wanted to mess around with?

It’s what worked, really, to be honest. It was a process where everyone had a list of songs they wanted to do, including John, and we worked them out and boiled them down to ones that would actually work, and suffer under the microscope of being that bare, naked thing. So, some of those acoustic tracks, you don’t want to make them again, you know – there were some tracks that we’d never touch, in that respect. But we didn’t really go for, like, the “Greatest Hits” – there were a few songs which have been singles, but that was it; two of them were B-sides, two of them were new… It’s just, like, songs that we knew would lend themselves to the process that we were undertaking.

I think ‘Exodus’ is the one that really stands out for me here – is there any one track on the album that you were particularly proud of how it came out?

‘Exodus’ is one – I really like ‘Liberty Song’, and I really like ‘Subvert’.

They’re the three I definitely would’ve singled out.

Yeah – well, they’re the three that I liked, but obviously it’s quite a Marmite record, really. Everybody loves ‘Elation’ – to me, it’s brilliant, I love it, but I’m not on it! But when I listen to it, it kind of trances me out. The vibe on it trances me out. It’s beautiful, it’s so good – so powerful. But it’s not the sort of thing you often listen to… it’s very much an “earphone moment”. A lot of it is. The thing is, it’s sort of designed to be played on vinyl.

And are there any songs that didn’t make the cut, where you maybe thought “I’d love to have a go at that” but you couldn’t quite figure out a way to make it work?

Yeah, quite a few, actually; quite a few. But the thing is, they’d been done acoustically enough in the past anyway, so it was just about resting the things that… Something like ‘Liberty Song’ is quite an electric song, so to turn that into an acoustic song was a real challenge – and it worked. But some of them, like ‘15 Years’, we did… and it’s alright; it’s good, but… kind of just, like… it’s alright. D’you know what I mean? It’s like, you have to be really careful. And some of the ones we picked, the B-sides, they just worked because they never quite saw the light of day at the time. So the versions that we did were better than the originals.

Was there ever a desire to do a song like ‘3 Friends’, which is really kind of “out there” in terms of the arrangement?

Yeah… yeah, I think we had a go at that! [Laughs]

It didn’t go well, I take it…?

Not really, no… well, I mean, it could have done – but the thing is also that we did quite a lot of collaboration within it with the Moulettes, who are friends of ours from Brighton who are fantastic string players, and all kinds of instrumentationists. And it’s also what tickled their fancy as well – some things really turned them on, and that helped steer the ship a little bit. They’re twenty years younger than us, they’re going: “Yeah, we want to do that one, this way” – we were like: “Alright… yeah, we’ll do that!”

I’ve seen the band perform acoustically a number of times over the years, and I’ve always been struck by how much of a showcase it provides for some of those tracks that maybe get a bit lost in the shuffle when it comes to putting a live set together. 

Yes, that’s right, yeah.

Do you feel that’s a side to your work that hasn’t perhaps gotten the recognition it deserves over the years?

Oh, I don’t know… That’s not for me to decide, is it, or for any of us to decide; that’s down to the wider world and whatever gets heard, or whatever gets picked up on. What we tried to do with We the Collective is make sure the lyrical content was out there first and foremost, so that it sounded like a cohesive album about the modern world – not just the world of twenty-odd years ago, but the world that we live in now. And I think we managed to do that, which was something that we thought was paramount, actually.

As a compendium of tracks, do you feel it’s sort of a manifesto for how the band feels – is it one of your definitive statements, as such?

Yeah, absolutely – we talk about… there are a lot of subjects within the songs, and they’re very contemporary; nothing’s changed, you know. The two new songs extra-contemporise that.

I particularly wanted to ask you about ‘Drug Bust McGee’. We’ve all seen the headlines over the last few years, so I assume this is a composite character, and not some real-life target of your ire like PC Keen?

No - it is a composite character. So’s PC Keen, by the way!

Oh, really! I was under the impression that he was a real-life person.

Yeah, he’s a composite character. But these are characters we’ve actually met, you know, or had contact with.

So it’s like “Tits McGee”, right?

Yeah, basically – I can’t actually name the names, because I don’t want to end up in a court of law! [Laughs] Or in the newspapers, anything like that – it’s a song, at the end of the day. It’s a song about real events that have really happened; these things are actual… It’s like, we’ve had close contact with these people, [but] that’s neither here nor there; it’s the fact that, as a subject matter, for people to realise that while doing innocent things – Earth First, and stuff like that – that they are being investigated for caring about their own planet by their own police force that they pay fucking taxes towards. Yeah? And they’re being seriously investigated – like, the Levellers have been investigated by the police on numerous occasions, and it’s like: [Angrily, rhetorically] “Why…?” Why are you looking at us like we’re a real threat to society…?

After all this time, does it ever fail to surprise you what some of these people and institutions are capable of?

[Emphatically] No! No, it will never cease to surprise me – it will constantly amaze me. But these organisations – their budgets are cut, like everybody else’s… I suspect they’ll be clipping their wings, as much as everyone else’s wings have been clipped – the whole of rich society’s wings have been clipped at the moment, strutting around like a wounded piggy… Innit!

I’ve asked you this before, then, but I’m going to ask you again now: how do you keep your head above water, in terms of the fact you’ve been doing this for such a long time and, like you said, nothing seems to have changed.

[Laughs] It doesn’t, it’s gotten worse!

Right! So how do you keep your sanity, when your entire message is about trying to improve things?

Who - said – we’ve kept our sanity…?!

Well, alright, then… how do you keep your focus, maybe.

Yeah, our focus remains undimmed. But yeah, we haven’t kept our sanity, there’s no two ways about it! [Laughs] The thing is, it’s like: the Levellers’ glass is always half-full. We’re optimists at heart; we always have been. And I think that’s probably what helps us through.

Thirty years. You’ve had your fair share of ups and downs during that time… highest high? 

Oh, Christ… Wait, are you talking about drugs…?! [Laughs]

Well, I was going to say career-wise rather than literally, but if that’s what you want to go with…

[Laughs] Career-wise… you know what, there’s… oh, I dunno. There’s been many. There’s been too many. Everyone expects you to say: “Oh, headlining Glastonbury, yeah, whooo!” …no. That wasn’t… that’s a media conception of a high. A high from our perspective would be putting our festival on for the first time and making it work – here we are fifteen years later, and it’s still going. That was a high. That’s something tangible you can actually hold onto.

Have you got an actual drug “highest high” story that you can recall…?

Highest high… not that I can recall[Laughs]

Lowest low…?

Lowest low… Interestingly, to be honest, they come infrequently, but they do come. It’s just… it’s more existential angst than it is realities within the band. You know, things do happen to people – things happen within people’s lives, but they’re not really… As far as the band’s life is concerned, not really… You know, when we got dropped by Bugs Bunny [Warner Bros. subsidiary China Records, the band’s home during the 1990s] – that was like… (Trails off dejectedly) But that was a high! That was like: “Great! We haven’t got a record label anymore!” And that was like, fucking… eighteen years ago that happened, and we’re still here. So I don’t know, as far as the band is concerned. A low point can be, like, when your bus breaks down on the M25 or something, and you can’t get to a gig. That has happened – but we always get to the gig, you know? That’s the nature of the band – that’s what we do. We don’t really suffer the slings and arrows of misfortune well - we just get on with the chore.

The band has always exuded this collective sense of purpose, but I know that behind the scenes there’s been quite a lot of turmoil. Was there ever a moment when you considered packing it in, or even came close? 

No. No.

Was it simply never an option?

Simply never an option, no. We don’t… No. I mean, we’ve had quite a tough time since the beginning of this year, to be honest, for reasons I’m not prepared to go into – but the band itself is greater than the sum of its parts, and we just continue.

I assume the common denominator is the friendship – that’s deepened over the years, I take it.

Yeah, of course it has, yeah.

So you’re more united by adversity.

United by experiences. Many, yeah. United by that.

I’m loath to bring up the feud with the music press from the old days, but I was thinking the other day: given the position of respect or status that you seem to occupy currently (particularly within the folk scene), is it strange to you to have outlasted that, and to now be in a position where you’re seen as – for want of a better phrase – elder statesmen?! (Well, maybe middle-aged statesmen…) 

Oh, elder statesmen, for god’s sake. Let’s tell the truth! [Laughs] Well, honestly, I’m not sure how much that really… the Levellers do exist within its own bubble, you know? We’ve always been… we’re not like a rock band, we’re not like a folk band; we do a little bit of this, we do a little bit of that… We are able to transition between places, but we’ve never really aligned ourselves to one particular thing; we never aligned ourselves to being a hippy convoy band, we never aligned ourselves to being a fucking punk-rock band, or a punk-folk band, or any of those things! [Laughs] We’ve always been, singularly, the Levellers – take it or leave it.

I saw a terrific interview you and Jeremy did a while back where you were talking about ragging on all your Brexit-supporting fans. When it was posted on the band’s Facebook page, I got into a bit of an exchange with some gammon-faced bloke who commented saying something along the lines of: “Keep your personal beliefs out of the band”. I replied by saying: “Their personal beliefs ARE the band, you wally!” 

[Laughs] The thing is, we’re quite happy to put out the statements – what we don’t do is argue with our audience! We leave that to others, to argue amongst themselves. But we’re quite happy to put out a statement and go: “D’you know what? FUCK this, it’s stupid. You know it, I know it – if you’re not prepared to accept that, you’re a fucking moron”. But then, I’m not going to enter into a concourse of debate with them, because they’re obviously not capable of it – there’s no fucking point! I’ll leave that to people like you, who are up to the thing! [Laughs] Because literally, I still want them to come to my gigs in the fucking unkneeling, vain hope that they change their CUNTING minds!

I guess the question is, then: to know there are people out there who like what you do but apparently don’t really understand what you do - how do you square that, as an artist?

Well, you know what – people are people, and they’re entitled to their opinions. The fact that they’re, fucking… people can grab hold of anything from anything, if that’s what they wanna do. You know what I mean? It’s not for me to decide what they take from it. I hope they take what we’re actually trying to get across – but that’s not always the case. And that’s been the case since the very beginning. From the very beginning – you’re going back to the debates with the media from years ago, it’s like: they didn’t really understand what we were about, because people don’t actually understand common sense, strange as that may sound, because that’s what we are on about. Bloody common sense. You know, it’s like: “Orrrrh, common sense, like Nigel Farage…” – that’s not fucking common sense, that’s an ideologue. We’re talking basic common sense, which is like, looking after each other, and looking after the planet you fucking live on.

Was it frustrating then to be accused of being that very thing yourselves? I remember ‘One Way’ once being described in the press as something like “A statement of failed ideology”.

Yeah, well, it can be taken as such; it can also be taken as a really fascist statement as well. It can be taken any way, and that’s absolutely… not cool with me [laughs], but people are gonna do it, aren’t they? They’re gonna do it.

Do you still feel misunderstood?

Uhhhh… [thinks] …yeah.

By who?

I don’t know, really – I think by the more intellectual parts of the broadsheet media and the BBC… people like that, yeah. Because literally, we’ll play to more people than anybody will play to in a year, we’ll play to 100,000 people this year, yet some band who’ll come along and play to, like, 5000 people will be all over the media. You know what I mean? So we’re kind of ignored. But d’you know what, we’re a big underground band, and that’s kind of where we exist – and we’re probably happier there, thinking about it.

Creatively, the band’s still a potent force – the last couple of records have been really strong, and everyone seemed to agree that they bear comparison with your ‘classic’ albums from the 90s. Is there anything left that you still really want to achieve? What keeps you hungry?

The job itself, to be honest – just doing it. And calling it a job does it a disservice – it’s just working. It’s like working. We like doing what we do: we like playing to an audience. We like entertaining a crowd. Informing a crowd, and having a good time doing it.

This is maybe a bit of a loaded question, but do you feel like you’re maybe poised for a bit of a comeback in terms of mainstream acceptance? I only ask since we seem to have, for the first time in a while, someone at the head of one of the mainstream political parties who – superficially, at least – seems to chime with a lot of the band’s egalitarian principles.

Errrr, I’m not so sure about that. We’ve always existed outside of politics - it’s like, people go: “Oh yeah, the Levellers, they must be socialists”… we’re not. It comes as a real shock to people. We might be leftly-leaning, but we’re not… we’re anarchists. We’re anarchists in the truest sense of the word, in as much as we exist to inform and educate. So therefore, how many systems have we been through? Everyone got really excited and said, “Oh, the Levellers, you must be really happy now in 1997 when Tony Blair’s in charge”… I’m like: “No, I’m not…!” [Laughs] He’s a devil in disguise!

Did you see all that coming, even back then?

Oh, god, yeah. I said so at Brixton Academy at the time.

I take it you never got an invite to Downing Street, a bit like Noel Gallagher did…

Of course not…!

Too outside of the mainstream for New Labour’s liking.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, way outside of it. But I have been invited to represent political parties in the past.

Really…?

Yeah, yeah, from all of them – from Liberal Democrats, the Green Party, Labour Party – and, indeed, the Conservative Party.

Unnnnnbelievable. Unbelievable!

Well, there you go! It’s like, “Represent us as a local councillor and we’ll take you on from here”. Like, er, no.

I remember when a Massive Attack song got used at the Tory Party Conference a few years back, and they issued a very public statement basically saying: “How dare they use our music to promote their bullshit”. Were you not tempted to go full-flamethrower on the Tories and issue a quote like that?

Er… well, they have used our music in the past, and so’s the Labour Party. To be honest, it’s… it’s up to them what they do! [Laughs] Millwall used to use our song to sing on the terraces. It’s their music – once we’ve released it, it’s theirs; it’s whoever wants to do with it what they want. As anarchists, we can’t really go around going “You can’t use it like that!” It’s like, you can’t say that – it’s literally like: alright; you’re using it like that… that’s your abuse.

As usual, a couple of questions for my own amusement at the end here. I didn’t get the chance to speak to you when your last solo record [Moment] came out, and I thought it was an absolutely brilliant album that marked a real high-point for you as a writer. And yet! Pretty much every time I’ve met you over the years, you’ve either been drinking, or drunk, or hungover. While All the Pieces was very much about you, Moment seemed to go out of its way to deal with the issue of alcohol by skirting every which way around it. Did it feel like it was too much to go there directly, or did you feel that the subject was better left addressed through different characters and misdirection?

Er… well… yeah, yeah. [Cackles] Interesting. Interesting! I’m not always pissed when you see me, am I…?

You have been whenever I’ve met you, yeah.

- Nooooo…!

Pretty much, yeah.

[Laughs] That’s Evil Robot Mark, that’s not me. I’m on the tour bus reading Proust!

What was the deal there, then – because it was almost an alternative to rehab, wasn’t it? Make that record, or go to rehab.

Well, to be honest, in Moment I really addressed it directly with ‘Waterfall’ - the first song on the album is: that’s me. That’s me, talking directly about boozing and what it’s like. And how actually being shit it really is.

You don’t have to answer this, but I’m hearing what I’m guessing are kids in the background – are you pretty much sober nowadays?

Er… mostly. Mostly, yeah!

Was that the turning point, the kids?

Well, I’ve had kids for years. So no! [Laughs] No, is the answer to that one! No, no, no, they’re like the turning-on point: like, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m going to the pub!” [Laughs]

When I interviewed you for Levelling the Land’s 20th anniversary, I asked you if you thought that album was the band’s best work. You were pretty much the only member of the group I spoke to that day who disagreed with that. I have my own theory about what you might say in answer to that question, so I’m interested to see if it squares up with your actual reply. Looking back over thirty years, what do you think is the band’s best work? What are you proudest of on an artistic level?

On an artistic level, that’s easy: that’s the quality. That’s where I come at it from – I come from an artistic point of view. So I must say it’s Hello Pig.

Yeah. I would’ve said you’d think it would probably be split between the half of Mouth to Mouth that’s stuff like ‘Chemically Free’, ‘Elation’ and ‘Too Real’…

[Animatedly] Yep. Yeah.

And then the half of Hello Pig that’s ‘Happy Birthday Revolution’, ‘61 Minutes of Pleading’ and ‘Gold & Silver’. Would you go with that?

I would, yeah. That’s where we’re, like… we’re at the outer limits of our talent, if you know what I mean.

And is that where you prefer to exist as a writer…

Yeah.

…or just as an artist?

Yeah. It is, as an artist. As a writer, I prefer to write songs that fucking hit home straight away to anybody in the street. Who go: “Yeah. I fucking knew that. I thought that. I’ve always thought that”. That’s what I wanna do. But that’s, fucking… that’s the gold marrow.

You’ve talked to me in the past about Stephen Stills and the other people you really admire. Have you ever thought about what your potential legacy might be? (That’s maybe too much of a big question to end on…!)

Er, d’you know what, it’s essentially impossible for me to say, isn’t it? The thing is [with] legacy, you can disappear down a fucking plug-hole of history quite easily – many greats have, many fantastic people that you’ve never even heard of. I’ve played with some fantastic musicians and songwriters over the years, whose legacy will never even be known. So it’s impossible to say – and that’s the sort of, like… that’s within the remit of those that write history, isn’t it? Not within the people that are actually living in it, if you know what I mean.

I guess the thing I’m getting at this point is that it all just comes back to this idea of the band remaining in control of what it does in and of itself.

Within its own destiny, yeah. But the band’s always been in control of its own destiny. And for people to maybe look back in history and go: “Ooh yeah, there was this little-known band called the Levellers, that actually did everything. Because they did it exactly, correctly and rightly without fucking anybody over – in fact, making people’s lives better. That’s the kind of legacy I’d love to be remembered for, but whether or not we’ll get it, that’s not down to me…

I guess we’ll wait and see…

[Laughs] Yeah, well… I’ll be long dead!


We the Collective is available now via OTF Recordings.