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Interview with Jim Glennie and Tim Booth of James about the La Petite Mort album
The legendary James are back with dazzling new album La Petite Mort, so we caught up with bassist and founder member Jim Glennie for a bit of a natter about it all…
You’re playing the Royal Albert Hall in November – that must be pretty exciting. Have you played there before?
It’ll be our third time. It’s a fantastic place, and there’s nothing more ridiculous than walking up to the Royal Albert Hall knowing you’re going to be playing there. It’s surreal, just being some idiot chancer from Moss Side playing at a place like that!
The new album sounds so fresh and full of vitality. What was Max Dingel like to work with as a producer?
We had the songs already so it was more about what we could do with them in the studio. We like the sound of the records Max has done, and we just wanted a bit of weight in there, a bit of beef.
That can be more difficult to get on record than when you’re playing live, but Max is a bit of a boffin in the studio, a bit of a scientist, so he was able to eke something out of it all.
I think it’s got that edge, that power, that bit of rawness that you get live, and you’ve got to be a bit clever to get that on record. He’s done a fantastic job, we’re dead proud of the record and we’re enjoying banging them out live.
You’ve got a busy summer of festivals ahead…
Yeah, we’re playing a ton of foreign ones – Benicàssim in Spain, others in Portugal, Greece, Mexico, Peru… In the UK we’re doing T in the Park, Latitude, Camp Bestival, and we’ve got a big gig in the centre of town in Manchester.
We’ve got a busy summer ahead, but busy in a good way!
One of the most striking aspects of La Petite Mort for me is the synth work. Who’s responsible for that side of things?
That’ll be our keyboard player Mark, we consciously turned him up this time. He’s an amazing keyboard player but constantly turns himself down, unlike most musicians! So we pushed him in the mix and made him much more of a focus.
He’s a funny lad, he really is, although he’s quite quiet. The rest of us are noisy buggers so we’d keep playing over him! We were sure to fix that this time around.
The indie giants’ bassist spoke to Goal about the season, Yaya Toure’s tantrums, the positives of the club’s money on Manchester and wasted talent at the Etihad Stadium
It’s been an amazing season to watch for the neutral but, for anybody involved, it has been heart-stopping at times. I’ve loved it, it’s been painful and you’ve been pulling your hair out at times: ‘We’ve got it … no we haven’t!’ It was a funny old season for City. We had amazing home form but rubbish away at the start for the season, stuffing everybody 6-0 and then went through a wobble but pulled it back at the end and, unbelievably, saw out those last four games.
For me that was the most impressive part of City’s season because ordinarily that wouldn’t be something that City could do; we’d have just crumbled like Liverpool did! They just ground it out when they needed to and City don’t normally do that; they don’t normally have that kind of professionalism and that clinical attitude, it’s normally much more all over the shop and that’s the pain of being a City fan over the years, really.
Has Manuel Pellegrini helped with that winning mentality?
I think City aren’t yet an established team that presumes they’re going to win things. Despite the money that’s been spent, through my adult life we’ve had 40 years of failure and living down the road from the other lot [United] that win everything, that takes a lot of shifting and more than just two or three years of success, that’s deep in the DNA of a club.
I think that’s why you need somebody cool in those situations that can steady the ship and [Pellegrini] did that. You don’t need a manager who can throw his arms up in the air and run down the touchline; we need that steady calmness that can keep the club on course.
We’re not yet a team that expects to win as much as everybody looks at our squad, we’ve had too many years of not winning stuff to suddenly counterbalance that quickly. We’re getting there, getting that mentality of expecting you’re going to win and the confidence that gives you and those last four games were indicative for me of that shift at City; that’s why I was so impressed.
So Pellegrini is the ‘Charming Man’ that City need?
It’s not an easy job – let’s face it, you’re dealing with some players whose egos must be incredible and trying to get them all pulling in the same direction. You saw that with [David] Moyes – how do you get that respect and control? [Sir Alex] Ferguson could just get in there and yell but Pellegrini has got that calm and that respect of the players and it suits City.
Speaking of egos, what do you think about Yaya Toure’s antics of late?
It’s just ridiculous, isn’t it? This gamesmanship in which players and their agents get involved in, it’s just so annoying for the fans because it’s disrespectful. If it was to go on behind the scenes then fair enough but it should never go public and the players shouldn’t get dragged into it. Of course they’re trying to get the best deal that they can for the player but that was just a ridiculous example.
Is it a shame that it’s come so soon after what should be a period of celebration for the club?
It is, absolutely, and Toure has had such an amazing season. He’s been unstoppable and he’s been the difference for City this year, he’s stepped up. [Sergio] Aguero was missing for most of it, struggling getting goals at times, [Alvaro] Negredo lost form, and he just grabbed some games by the scruff of the neck. He just runs at teams and there’s not another player out there like that.
I hope it’s just gamesmanship and the rumours are just nonsense but it’s just difficult for fans because you want to feel that the players are there in your heart and soul and, if somebody wants to leave, then fair enough but when somebody tries to work the situation then it’s not on. You feel a lot of it’s [engineered] and [Carlos] Tevez was the same with his agent; it sullies the player’s reputation with the fans and, if I was a player, I wouldn’t want that – it’s not a clever thing to do.
What impact do you think Financial Fair Play will have on City?
The limitation of the squad in the Champions League is probably going to have an impact. It seems there’s quite a lot of loopholes and ways to get around it, I’m not too sure what I think about it – whether that’s because I’m a City fan but there’s never an equality in funding in football, bigger clubs have more money than the smaller clubs. Unless you say there is ‘x’ amount for everybody to spend and it’s all the same every year, there’s always going to be that inequality. It seems like [Uefa] are pussy-footing around; I don’t know how much of it is just slapping teams across the wrist and taking a few quid in the process.
I kind of like the fact that, out of nowhere, some mad lunatic with too much money can step in, like Jack Walker, and say ‘I’m going to make this club massive’ and suddenly there’s an influx of attention and funding.
Look at Eastlands – it was a terrible part of Manchester, an awful part where you wouldn’t really want to go and there’s been a huge influx of cash there and job opportunities and development – is that a bad thing? Is that bad for Manchester? Is that bad for the game? Looking at the infrastructure of City and the changes around the ground, it’s a very very different part of Manchester now and it’s changing very positively and I can’t really see that as a negative thing.
I think we’ve got to be careful, it depends who we lose from the squad. A lot of players don’t play, we’ve got some amazing players who’ve hardly featured and, as much as we need a large squad, if I was a player I’d want to be playing. We’re still talking about a central defender to pair up with [Vincent] Kompany but I thought [Matija] Nastasic was looking good before he got injured and then it was like he didn’t exist. People were talking about him as if he wasn’t there and then [Martin] Demichelis came in and was there permanently and I don’t understand why we don’t revert back to that partnership.
The rest of the team, it depends on whether [Edin] Dzeko goes or not. I hope he doesn’t go and we’ve still got great players up front but Aguero missed most of the season through injury, Negredo didn’t score for the second half of the season, [Stefan] Jovetic only played a handful of games so, if Dzeko goes, then we’ll need a striker.
But then again, who would come in thinking that they weren’t going to be first or second choice? It’s [a balancing act], having a large squad of top-flight players, and half-a-dozen, a dozen are going to be disgruntled and I don’t blame them.
I feel sorry for the England players – Micah Richards is amazing, he should be somewhere playing every week. James Milner as well. [Jack] Rodwell, [Scott] Sinclair, they just haven’t featured this season. Their careers have ground to a halt. You don’t get many years as a top-flight footballer, 10 comfortably, and to spend three or fours of them not doing anything?
Are they sacrificing their careers for a pay cheque then?
Oh absolutely – for the last couple of years, fair enough. You come in in your early thirties, get a bundle of cash, don’t play every week but, as a young player, to come in and do that, it’s not worth the pennies. [Rickie Lambert’s move to Liverpool] makes sense because with them being in the Champions League, you play a lot of games, and if [Daniel Sturridge and Luis Suarez] are not scoring or injured you’ll get to play but I think when you’re a young player you’re just sacrificing your career and that’s just ridiculous. They’re not going to look back on the glory years of being on the Man City bench for four years, are they?
You’ve got to be realistic looking at the club you’re joining and think: ‘Will I be in that first XI, am I there yet?’ Perhaps you should hang on three years and then you will be but, if you’re not, then you can play instead of sitting there and making up the numbers.
I think City have invested a load of cash in their youth policy and the facilities there and, over the next few years, hopefully players will start coming through but, at the moment, you’re not seeing young City players coming through; I think that is an easy, simple way to try and manage that problem but dragging a player in from another Premier League team who’s on the rise, it’s not a good thing to do, it really isn’t.
Tell us about your album ‘La Petite Mort’ and why you chose the title.
The lyrics are about death and we wanted to reflect that in the title without being too morbid. La Petite Morte is French for the post-orgasmic stage so it is about death but it’s also a little tongue-in-cheek because obviously it’s a serious theme but the album is very uplifting, which is what James do a lot – take a dark lyric and put something uplifting behind that to counterbalance it, which is what the record is full of that.
Your single, ‘Moving On’, seems to reflect that balance.
In the west we’re terrible about dealing with death! It doesn’t exist as far as people are concerned but that’s different when you trace around the world. The Day of the Dead is a celebration of death and all your relatives and those you know who have died and it’s a very positive thing that brings death into everyday life. The people that have died are talked about but in the west we’re useless at this; we pretend it’s never going to happen but it is. I think that’s what we tried to do with the record in a liberating way, drawing attention to it without being dark or miserable.
Larry Gott: Sit Down is one of those songs that encourages people to put their arms around strangers. As soon as we launch into the opening bars, they start smiling. Then they turn to someone next to them or their girlfriend or boyfriend and hug them, and then they start singing every single word. As a musician, that’s incredibly humbling.
Tim Booth: At the time, I didn’t understand that every successful band has one song that kicks the door down. Before Sit Down was released, we played it in Paris, and a load of Mancunians had shipped themselves over. We started playing the song and one by one, everyone spontaneously started sitting down. By the song’s end, the entire thousand-strong crowd were sat on the floor. Some of us cried. You remember those moments.
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Some bands just aren’t cool. Coldplay can sample Kraftwerk all they want but they’ll always be a bunch of student union try-hards led by a man who thinks he can team up with Bono to end poverty. James, the Manchester band responsible for stadium-filling hits like “Sit Down”, “Say Something” and “Come Home”, never tried to be anything other than what they were: a diverse bunch of lads trying to make music they liked. Throughout the 1980s, the critics championed their experimental, infectious alternative folk-pop. In the early 90s, when they exploded out of the Hacienda scene and started selling cartloads of records, James became the world’s lamest thing: a “stadium indie” band. They’d become more polished, more mainstream and maybe more boring, but did they really deserve the backlash? If they’d quit earlier, would they be critically revered like all the other great Manchester bands they played with?
“It’s a very UK-based thing. They like you when you don’t know what you’re doing”, guitarist Larry Gott tells me, of the press reaction. “You just stumble clownishly into something and that gives it a sense of authenticity. As soon as you get better at what you’re doing, you lose that sense of authenticity in the observer’s eye because it looks like you know what you’re doing”. The press, Larry says, treated James like a kid that is well-loved until it grows up, at which point everyone decides it’s “a bit of a cunt”. Founding member and bassist Jim Glennie is keen to emphasise that James never got polished and that, even now, they “like the fear, the fear of being on stage and having to make something work. The last thing we’d want to do is polish everything out, which most bands want to.”
The desire to take risks was with James from the beginning. Two kids from Moss Side, Jim Glennie and Paul Gilbertson formed the band in 1982 two weeks after Paul, a disciple of The Fall and Orange Juice (James are named after the brilliant James Kirk, Orange Juice’s original guitarist), persuaded Jim, a self-confessed “football hooligan”, to pick up a bass guitar. A few months later, Jim and Paul, then 16, had snuck into the Manchester student union. “We’d either climb in through a window if we could get in, or get someone to sign you in on the door. If you waited long enough some poor student would do it,” Jim remembers. There, they were impressed by the dancing of a student called Tim Booth: “I was from Leeds and I’d been sent to an English boarding school and ended up at Manchester University studying Drama. I met these guys, I was dancing in a nightclub and they saw me dancing and were stealing my beer. They were 16 but they were still pretty scary”, Tim says.
Once they’d stopped stealing Tim’s booze, Jim and Paul asked him to come out and rehearse with them. “We figured you were in university so you could help us with our lyrics”; Jim tells Tim. “He’ll do, bright lad”! The next day, Tim woke up with Paul’s number scrawled across his hand. Bleary eyed, he called him up and went out to Withington, to a scout hut the band practiced in. Today, Tim remembers it clearly. “Memory’s a false thing anyway, we know that scientifically, but I have strong memories of that day. Within a week we had a gig supporting Orange Juice in Sheffield and I was banging a tambourine and dancing and terrified”.
Soon, Tim became the singer: “I’d never done any singing. I’d never done any lyric writing, ever. I had to write lyrics because they started asking me to sing these songs with the most appalling lyrics. I quote you: ‘I have a way with girls, me being so good-looking. I have a fantasy, I wanna be raped by a woman’. And Paul’s going ‘you’ve got to sing that next weekend’, and I’m going, “Errrr, can I change the words?’” Leaving their proto-Kasabian lyrics behind, James were hard to pin down in the early days. At one show, Tim just read lyrics out, leading future promoters to bill the band as, “James (Not a poet)”. This footage from a 1982 gig at the Hacienda shows their debt to Orange Juice as well as giving you an idea of how far they were from the stadium band they later went on to be typecast as. Though Jim was “terrified” of Mark E. Smith, The Fall were “incredibly supportive” of James and regularly put gave them support slots at their club night.
As with many alternative 80s bands, James had a strong DIY ethos. “In the early days we used to do our own equipment and I remember travelling to Oxford on the back of a butcher’s van, under canvas, illegally, with the drums set up, freezing cold, blood everywhere over the floor because it’s a butcher’s van, a vehicle that wouldn’t go over 40 miles an hour. We ended up being so late we nearly didn’t get to play”, Jim says. The band huddled up in sleeping bags in the back of the van and Larry used to allow the local community to become unwittingly involved in an arts sponsorship program by going round the estates syphoning off petrol for their journeys. A man of the people, he didn’t pick on just one car. The butcher who lent the van got into fat rendering and ended up doing very well selling the fat to cosmetics companies.
James, playing on the roof of the Piccadilly Hotel in Manchester, 1991
“James was a rough, Manchester band”, Tim explains. “It was beg, steal or borrow. The original singer ended up in Strangeways Prison for GBH and the original guitar player ended up in Strangeways Prison for GBH. Thatcher had this enterprise allowance thing, which really helped us because until then, we had to sign on the dole and you had to be back in Manchester and you couldn’t really tour. It was tricky, but that was what was sustaining us”. This enterprise allowance, brought in to keep the official dole figures down, enabled the band to officially go professional. In the eyes of the state, they went from being unemployed lads from the industrial north, to thrusting young entrepreneurs. When they were on the dole, they were terrified that well-publicised gigs or reviews would have the authorities knocking on their door to ask them why they were on benefits when they were clearly coining it as Manchester’s latest, greatest indie band. The first time they were on the cover of the NME, they were still signing on.
The reality, of course, was that James spent years scraping by, rolling through a series of not-quite-successful relationships with Factory Records, Sire and Rough Trade. “For about the first five years, we earned about 30 quid a week, which was about the same as the dole”, says Tim. “And then it jumped after five years, but we had about seven years really without making money. We were just doing it because we loved what we did”. The potential for a big break came when The Smiths fought their record label to bring James along on the 1985 “Meat is Murder” tour. When Marr and Morrissey met, one of the things they shared was that they both had James’ first single. It was their Jagger and Richards meeting on the train station platform moment and James played the part of Muddy Waters. The Smiths were “very kind and generous” to James and covered the early James song “What’s the World”.
During the 80s, there was an impression that James were, as the NME put it, “lefty veggies gone bonkers”. In some ways, this impression has never left, clinging particularly to Tim. Once upon a time, says Jim, this wasn’t too far from the truth and on the “Meat is Murder” tour; Jim ended up giving Morrissey a massage because the great yodeller had a headache. “Back in those days we were a bunch of hippies so the idea of giving someone a massage was par for the course. If someone had a headache, you wouldn’t give them a paracetamol, you’d light a candle and get some oil out. I gave Morrissey a massage and he said, ‘Much better, thanks very much’. He was probably lying”. A few years later, when they were playing Top of the Pops with Nirvana, Kurt Cobain was so nervous he felt like he couldn’t sing. Tim offered him a throat massage to relieve his troubles. Kurt declined.
These idiosyncrasies applied to James’ life outside the limelight, as well. For a start, the band never talked about anything to do with their music. They would just get in a room together and start playing. “We’d have silent rehearsals”, Tim recalls. “Four or five hour rehearsals, four or five times a week. Then Larry joined, in 1984, and because he could actually play, he began to provide the semblance of a structure”. “I didn’t know what key it was in”, says Larry. “I didn’t know anything. Let’s say that 10- 20% of the time the music that the individuals were playing came together into something that was recognisable and you could tell they were actually listening to each other. The rest of the time, it sounded like a music shop on a Saturday afternoon. One’s playing Michael Jackson, another’s playing “Smoke On The Water” and nobody’s listening to each other”.
These were the famous James improvisations and out of the 20% that made sense, came the songs. The rehearsals were taped, so the band would listen back to the tapes and when they heard something they liked, they’d try and recreate it. They’d get the recreation about 40% correct and from there they’d have something fit to record. To this day, none of the band ever brings ideas to James rehearsals. There’s no enthusiastic “Hey guys, I came up with a great chord progression last night”. “We carried on doing this for a long, long, long, long time and it’s still pretty much the basis of how we do things now,” says Jim.
It’s also how they wrote their biggest hits. “Sit Down”, for example, came out of one of the improvisations. “It’s very simple if you listen to it again, like a lot of the best ideas. It’s only three chords, its E, A, B and they just keep cycling round”, says Larry. Tim started singing a melody over the top of it and after 20 minutes of playing the band collapsed in a fit of hysterics. “We just laughed and went, ‘that’s ridiculous’, because we’d just written a Eurovision song contest song or something”, remembers Jim. At the time, the band was falling out with Sire Records and they needed a song to make them feel like they had a future. They kept “Sit Down” for themselves and it became a No. 2 hit in the UK.
This summer, James release their latest album, La Petite Mort, some of which was written in Greece, where the band are enormously, hilariously popular. Listen to any James song on YouTube and you’ll find the comments section dominated by Greeks. There are a whole raft of Greek-language James covers, including this version of “Say Something” by 90s legend Filippos Pliatsikas. James played one gig in Athens in 2001, before they split up and between then and their reformation in 2007, they became mysteriously massive in the Hellenic world. It’s a popularity they’re happy with. The critics may not know what to do with James but the people will always love them.
Larry Gott (guitarist, songwriter)
Sit Down is one of those songs that encourages people to put their arms around strangers. As soon as we launch into the opening bars, they start smiling. Then they turn to someone next to them or their girlfriend or boyfriend and hug them, and then they start singing every single word. As a musician, that’s incredibly humbling.
Like most of our songs, it came about through improvisation. We’ll get in a room and fiddle around on our instruments and from chaos and noise you suddenly get some music. With Sit Down, we’d been rehearsing at the Boardwalk in Manchester for a couple of hours, and the song just fell, almost fully formed, into our laps.
It’s a very simple tune: three major chords – E, A and B – that repeat over and over with that silly drum beat. After 25 minutes playing around with it we had verses and choruses and an instrumental break. I remember everyone laughing afterwards. It felt so stupid, like we’d written a Eurovision Song Contest entry, but we knew it could be a special song.
We released it first on Rough Trade, at which point it was seven and a half minutes long and reached No 77! We were very disappointed with that and shortly afterwards label boss Geoff Travis told us we’d never sell more than 20,000 records, but kindly allowed us to buy back the song rights just before they went bankrupt. That did us a huge favour. When we signed to Fontana, they insisted that we re-record Sit Down with Gil Norton, who’d just produced the Pixies.
The new version spent three weeks at No 2, only kept off the top spot by Chesney Hawkes. If anyone ever asks me what I do and I say I’m a musician, they’ve sometimes heard of James – but as soon I tell them that we’re the band who did Sit Down, they instantly know who we are.
Tim Booth (singer, songwriter)
With improvised tunes, I always get a few words straight away, and the phrase “Oh sit down” came immediately in the rehearsal room. I went away and wrote the rest of the lyrics over the next few days.
The opening line, “I’ll sing myself to sleep, a song from the darkest hour,” refers to my insomnia. I was writing at 2-3am. The lines “Now I’m relieved to hear that you’ve been to some far-out places, it’s hard to carry on when you feel all alone” were me thinking of Patti Smith and Doris Lessing.
They both connected to me when I felt very alone and misunderstood. Throughout my teens, I’d had an undiagnosed illness and my skin was almost yellow. When I was 21, I’d almost died, so I was feeling pretty tortured in those days.
That line “I swung back down again” is about the mood swings I used to go through. I was meditating a lot to try and find some meaning to it all, and you can get quite high on that. Then you come back down to reality. I was celibate, no alcohol, vegetarian and living a monkish life, but when you’re meditating for days at a time you get to some pretty far-out places. So “If I hadn’t seen such riches I could live with being poor” is about the places I reached through meditation – the riches are psychological. When I’m writing, I let this stuff pour out spontaneously. If I start thinking about it too much, I usually bugger it up.
The lyrics about empathy with the sick and mentally ill were probably my way of wanting to be a beacon for other people in the way Smith and Lessing were for me. The line “Those who find themselves ridiculous, sit down next to me …” somehow stops the song being pompous. We made a video with homeless people, and someone suggested having a dog and a sheep in it. The sheep peed over my leg.
When we’d recorded it for Rough Trade, the Hillsborough disaster was on the TV on in the background, and that really affected us. That first version is sensitive and vulnerable – but we needed a Gil Norton to make us hammer it out. In the hit single, the vulnerability in the lyrics contrasts well with the tougher music.
We knew it was a big song, but we were shy of fame in some ways and refused to let the record company release it in America. We were naive musicians who wanted to make music that would mean something to people for a very long time, and clung to that punk notion of never selling out.
At the time, I didn’t understand that every successful band has one song that kicks the door down. Before Sit Down was released, we played it in Paris, and a load of Mancunians had shipped themselves over. We started playing the song and one by one, everyone spontaneously started sitting down. By the song’s end, the entire thousand-strong crowd were sat on the floor. Some of us cried. You remember those moments.
Tim kindly gave up his time to sit and speak with Grov and what follows is a very interesting and educational look into one of Britain’s finest acts!
One of the threads of this book is rebellion. Do you think mainstream music is an acceptable medium for spreading ideas, truth and rebellion? And do you think mainstream music has lost this idea and become corporate controlled?
I think that it has been. I think it’s in a very conservative place right now. The media has a stranglehold. You can see in the 60s it didn’t know what was going on and in the end it just followed the bands, right up until the 70s. Corporate structures couldn’t keep up with change that was going on and the dissemination of ideas, often mystical ideas. It simply couldn’t keep up with the change that was going on, certainly not with the ideas that were changing the way people were thinking in the west. But gradually the corporations got a grip. And now they’re falling apart again due to the internet and downloading. I like Pete Townsends comment when he said, “A band comes along and it starts a tribe and people get angry and express their stuff, then they get old and then a new movement comes along.” He put the emphasis on “the people learn a new dance”. He had it down to being about the dance quite strongly. I do kind of come from a place where dance is revolution for me and it’s a place where I get in touch with my intuition and get detached from the culture and the culture’s grip on my thinking. So I like the idea that punk had a dance, a specific dance, and House had a dance. So dance is very important to me. It was banned by the Christians in this country for hundreds of years because of what it unearthed and that tends to be way.
At the moment with the Simon Cowell’s and the X Factor style of T.V. it’s becoming just about being famous and a celebrity. The word celebrity does have a kind of vacuous meaning to it. It’s like a dirty word. And you can see the public’s attitude to it on shows such as “I’m a celebrity get me out of here” which is basically a torturous celebrity show … which is quite fascinating because the public love celebrities. They also want to torture them. It’s interesting to have that split of the desire to be one and also to have them hung, drawn and quartered, frequently. But while all this is going on there is some fantastic music being made and some really great bands out there. I’d say better than twenty years ago. But you do have to work hard to find it.
Your lyrics contain much Universal wisdom and very usable philosophy. Have you ever written a song and wondered where it came from?
Just about all of them. I never sit down to write a song about a topic, ever. It nearly always just comes out. And it usually comes out reflecting the intensity within me about something. So even a song like ‘government walls’ which is extensively a government song, was about my anger of living in Manchester and seeing John Stalker basically getting stitched up because he was investigating shoot to kill policy. So even though it was a political song, it was more personal about my anger. As I say I was living in Manchester and he was a Manchester cop, clearly honest, maybe too honest and it got me angry so I wrote a political song. I don’t write many political songs, probably a handful in thirty years, but they come from being angry enough or emotional enough to write it. Nearly all of my songs come that way. And the ones that don’t, come from my unconscious and I don’t even know what I’m writing about. Often I’ll find out a year later. But most of the time I don’t really have a clue what I’m doing?! I’m not a writer to order and it doesn’t come from the conscious part of my brain at all. It reminds me of a fantastic story I heard of a woman living in America who’s considered one of the greatest poets. She is in her eighties now but she describes how when she was in her teens and twenties she was working in the fields and how she could hear poems come rumbling down the hillside like a creature, and have to run as fast as she could to her house and grab a pen and paper to catch the poem. Sometimes she’d make it back and other times she felt the poem pass through her and disappear into the countryside looking for somebody else. When she did catch it she was able to write the complete perfect poem in five minutes or so. Other times she felt it passing through her and she’d literally grab it by the tail and pull it back into her body and write with her other hand as she was pulling it back, and then write it down perfectly but in reverse order. I thought that was the most example of a physical muse I have ever heard.
In the song “Pressures on” off the Wah Wah album you sing “Love is at the heart of everything.” Is this something you strongly believe?
Yes it is. But there are hundreds of words for love, just as there should be hundreds of words for snow. There are so many types of love that it can get confusing, but yes, love is at the heart of everything. When we don’t mess around with it this is an incredibly abundant planet. There is food and water here for people and a cycle which is quite remarkable, and I can’t see that as being anything other than benign. Now if you see death as cruel you may disagree. I see death as part of a cycle so in that case I do see love as being at the heart of everything. But I’ve just had a very interesting lesson where I know someone who brought up their son with complete unconditional love, in a certain kind of way. But it was unconditional love without boundaries and it didn’t do him any good. So again, love can be abused just as anything else can. It must come with a discipline. One of my favourite quotes which I used in a song is “Are you disciplined enough to be free?”
It always amazed me when I saw thousands of James fans singing along to lyrics of such tender and philosophical subjects. I don’t know of another band which has done that on such a scale, if at all. Almost like a modern day equivalent of healing ones-self through tribal chants. Were you aware that something very special and unique was taking place?
Yes! I mean I have been touched by music in the same way. There are other people making music who have touched me in the same way … from Patti Smith to Leonard Cohen. That’s what I was always interested in … the way it hit people.
Tim Booth – would-be actor, spiritualist, husband, father, though you probably know him (if at all) as that crazy dancing hippy who fronts the band James. You’ve heard of them, right? No..? They sing ‘Sit Down’. That’s the one, you can stop singing the chorus like a pissed-up football hooligan now.
“One of the curious things about James is how we’ve attracted such football blokes, and look at me”, he smiles. Booth is an unlikely idol to the masses of burly men who flock to experience the euphoric live performances of James – he cuts a lean figure, has dance moves to shame your mother, and would rather meditate than get pissed up at an awards show. “A&M were gonna sign us at one point years ago; eventually they declined and when we asked them why they said ‘well, look at Tim, he’s not going to be the kind of person that’s gonna appeal to a redneck in the Deep South’”, a quote he tells me he’s particularly proud of.
James are somewhat a curious case in general. Tipped in the early 80s as the ‘next big thing’, it wasn’t until the 90s with songs like ‘Sit Down’ and ‘Born of Frustration’ that the band gained any real attention. Gold Mother, released in 1990, came fifth in NME’s Albums of the Year and follow-up Seven reached Number 2 in the UK charts in 1992. Five albums and nine years later, Tim made the decision to leave, but not because they’d outstayed their welcome. “I did it really – and I’ve been more and more honest about this over the last few years – because there was so much addiction going on in the band and I just didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. We were still making good music, but there was a lot of addiction and that’s why I left, simple.”
The band bowed out to a sold out arena tour eleven years after people had started to take notice; six years passed before Tim returned, and in the five years since then, three albums have been released and a dedicated and growing fan base continues to sell out tours all over the world. And yet, there’s an underlying feeling that James were never quite as successful as they should have been.
The media it seems didn’t quite ‘get it’. The NME lauded them as ‘the most original and exciting band in years’ in the early 90s, only to paint them as musical garbage a few years later. Why the turned backs when the door stayed wide open for bands like The Smiths? “I think it’s a number of things, and I think it’s something we survived. Familiarity breeds contempt… You know, The Smiths went like a firework and came and went and were appreciated, but you never got to see them grow old” – he pauses – “though you get to see Morrisey grow old”, he points out, with a glint in his eye.
“We also didn’t have much of a story for them – we kept our addictions to ourselves and we weren’t gonna sell them to the press”. This is something, I imagine, he’s quite happy with looking back? “We wouldn’t be back together now the way we are, I mean we genuinely love each other. You look at the Stone Roses and you go ‘hmmm, okay, how long is that going to last? How long are they going to stay in the same room?’ We actually love each other more now than we ever have done, which is shocking. The late 90s were bad. We had a lot of things going on and it looked like it was irreparable”.
As candid in person as he is lyrically, Booth exudes an honesty which seems something of a rarity in an industry where most are merely concerned with how they’re going to make the headlines. And it’s this nature and comfort with being so self-revealing, along with a sound which remains euphoric even in its darkest moments, which has enabled James to turn into a vehicle of comfort and self-discovery for those who jump on for the ride.
“We were doing a gig for Greenpeace on the White House lawns years ago and these young kids came up to us afterwards, about 5 of them, really shy, and they said ‘your album was the soundtrack for our escape. We were born into a religious cult and Seven was our soundtrack – we escaped about two years ago, all of us, and he’ (pointing at one little kid) ‘had to punch his father in the face as he was escaping through the toilet window – and the song that did it for us was Ring the Bells.’ And we just go “thank you, thank you God”. Music can work in mysterious ways, that much is certain.
And then there’s the incredible impact had on a boy who, autistic and locked in with no real way to communicate, only calms down upon hearing James, an effect which has carried over to other children at the autistic centre he goes to with his mother – a story she shared, confiding in, thanking, and congratulating them at a recent Q&A session. “I was in tears – I couldn’t talk for three minutes… None of us could speak. It was like, what a thing to say, what a use of your music. It was probably the most beautiful thing that anyone has ever said to us”. These stories and anecdotes come a-plenty, each serving not to massage an ego – of this, I feel certain – instead giving a sense of value to words put down on paper, which have gone on to find new meaning in unlikely and life-affirming places.
Gold Mother, an album filled with self-hatred, somehow managed to have this exact effect on the lyricist himself. Driving to the first gig of a tour in Blackpool, a request came from guitar player Larry’s step-daughter to listen to the album. What followed was something he likens to alchemy, metal into gold, pain into celebration. “We put on these songs at their request and they sang along joyously to all these painful lyrics representing the most painful moments in my life. It was just so shocking somehow, but fantastic. And then we went and did the first gig in Blackpool and it was the first time we’d played ‘Born of Frustration’ and 400 men were screaming – they knew what I was singing about and they knew how it felt.” Like therapy both ways? “Therapy both ways, yes”.
And such is the power of James, it would seem. I wonder if this kind of story makes up for never quite reaching the dizzying heights of stardom that has always seemed just out of their reach. “Yes and no. You know, I can see really shitty bands doing really well and I go ‘Fuck! Why the fuck isn’t that us?’ Every so often I’ll have that, but less and less.”
It seems somewhat of a blessing that the kind of fame which has paparazzi hiding in your bushes has never quite dug its claws in to Booth, it almost wouldn’t suit him. A distinct lack of arrogance exudes this front man, yet an alarming charisma and serenity seasons his words in a way which is both mesmerizing and enchanting. Opinionated and self-assured, but minus the sense that the world owes him a favour, it’s no wonder the media circus isn’t interested. And even when they are, he isn’t.
“You can see the public’s completely mixed reaction to celebrity with I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here”, he muses. “On one level, they’re like ‘oh, I love that person’ and on another level they want to tear them apart and make them eat maggots”. Not too far from how James have been treated, then. He tells me he’s received their call about three times. Was it a straight up no, I ask? “A straight up no”, though he ponders for a second. “There was one moment actually where I was quite curious” he admits, “I’m very interested in survival techniques and I was like ‘I wonder if you could go and live off that fish in that pond or catch some wild animals and live off them, and fuck doing the bloody bushtucker trials because you’ve just provided an elk that you’ve brought down with your homemade knife.’” I ask how he’d feel about living with other celebrities. “Oh, fuck!” – I start to think of a few names – “Shut up, don’t go there, I’m not going there.”
I’m A Celebrity… seem to have been punching above their weight with Booth, though one can only assume that the producers of such a show would be hard-pressed to believe that a band who formed in the 80s are still going, bloody love each other, and are not just touring their greatest hits to make a bit of money and satisfy a middle-aged audience. Sounds familiar though, doesn’t it?
But that’s not the name of the game here. Mobbed at Peru airport by fans they didn’t know they had and of the age that would most typically be expected to lose their shit over the latest buzz band, the audience is growing, and it’s not just the 40/50 year olds who come out for the James experience. “You get this all around the world, different people cottoning onto us in strange ways. We know there’s a huge audience waiting for us in South Africa, and we’ve never been to South Africa, and there’s one in Australia and we’ve never been there either. It just keeps going.”
It seems somewhat of a vindication for a band who refused to play the game that the kind of longevity most crave has come to them, and not for the price of compromising their integrity and pandering to the media. “We’ve always wanted longevity, you want the respect, you want the long-term, and it’s always been about live, and we have it. We took seven years to make any money out of this, 30 quid a week we were making for the first seven years. We knew what we had would eventually get through, and there’s also some part of us that feels it’s not finished yet”.
30 years down the line and there’s no time for being complacent. A youthful grin plays across the corners of his mouth when I ask about the future, as he declares: “There’s nothing like virgins, you know? People who come to a gig and think it’s going to be an ordinary experience with a band and go ‘what the fuck is this’?”
Well then, what the hell are you waiting for?
Spaceheads are a drum and trumpet duo featuring Richard Harrison and Andy Diagram and are releasing their new EP Sun Radar next week. David Brown met Andy, better known as the trumpet player with James, in a London pub to talk about the EP, the band’s history and their plans for the future.
It’s been five years since you released something. What have been the reasons for that and why are you releasing something now?
Five years ago, we released a recording of a gig on a French label and that gig was three years earlier, it’s even longer that we haven’t been active. And we didn’t get to promote that release either. It was with a guy called Max Eastley and we didn’t promote it properly.
The last thing we did properly was a US tour ten years ago in 2003 and just after that Richard the drummer became a Dad and that slowed things right down. We knew that would happen and it’s a question of how much do you slow it down so we did the occasional French tour, a weekend away, until the time I rejoined James in 2007 and then it went really quiet, we hardly did anything. Now Richard’s kids are 10 and 8 we can be a bit more active again. Or at least he’s got permission now (laughs).
So the new EP Sun Radar is just a start then?
Yes, it’s a start and it’s not like we’re going to get straight back to where we were. It’s part of a strategy that’s going to take a couple of years before we’re back to where we’ll do gigs. It’s a strategy to reconnect with all the people we knew ten years ago.
We used to tour a lot round France, Greece, Italy and Holland. It was the days before bands really took email lists and social media seriously. So we had no contact with those people, they just turned up at the gigs. With a band like Spaceheads, you need to keep the whole audience on board. With Facebook and social media, it’s set up for bands like Spaceheads who have a worldwide audience but in little pockets of people in every town around the world.
Is there a reason why you think your fanbase is that diverse? A lot of bands tend to have fanbases in pockets?
Well, our gigs are generally 50-150 people, not massive audiences, but it’s people who love the band and buy our stuff, but we don’t know where they are now and they’ll be older and have had kids and stuff. It’s going to be a matter of reconnecting.
The EP, although it’s four songs, seems to fit together as one piece of music. Was that intentional?
It’s not intentional, but there was an idea behind the EP that does unite it. We wanted short snappy pieces. In the past we would ramble on a bit, the average length of a song would be about seven minutes. I’ve got into making videos recently and editing live footage down to three minutes and I thought I’d apply that technique to the cd as well and edit out all the unnecessary bits to get down to a few minutes.
Do you think your type of music doesn’t matter whether a song is three minutes or seven minutes because of the type of music it is?
Yes, seven minutes works as well and it has in the past, but I really fancied getting short and to the point with this one. The songs were chosen because they have an upbeat feel and they’re very melodic, quite rhymic.
Listening to your other songs, it is a lot more upbeat. And even something you could dance to where the older stuff never did.
Bits of it would, we’ve always had our more dancey stuff, we’ve played places where people are dancing and we’d get booked to play dance festivals as well as jazz and indie clubs.
Do you think that’s because your music is difficult to categorise? Spaceheads don’t really fit into any category.
Yeah. That can be a bit of a problem, because it doesn’t sound like anything. I know a lot of people say that, but when people listen to it they agree. Spaceheads have always managed to cross a few boundaries as well. We didn’t fit into one scene, but it also made it hard because we never got recognized by any scene, so whilst others were doing quite well in the improvised music scene and getting festival bookings, we’d only get the odd party and we weren’t taken that seriously by that scene. Those things happen when you don’t fit in.
You’ve been a band for twenty-four years and as a band that’s quite electronic based being just trumpet and drums, how’s has technology impacted on the way you work?
It’s impacted more in the live sense with what we use on stage. I’ve moved over to using computers which I resisted a lot. That’s because I hated using a computer with a mouse, but now I can control my computer with my phone which sits on top of my trumpet so I can run around the stage, it’s all part of an instrument. Technology-wise things are always changing and I did get frustrated our sound wasn’t changing and we were very loop-based. We weren’t developing enough, but the rest was good as I learnt to appreciate it.
Some bands need a break sometimes to come back refreshed. Like your other band (both laugh). The EP is out in April. Are you going to tour it and release other stuff?
It’s released, quite cynically, to coincide with the James tour. It was going to come out in May, so I thought why not try and get James fans to listen to it and maybe sell it to them if they like it.
The EP is also out on vinyl as well.
We had a lot of people tell me not to do the EP on cd and just have vinyl and download, like Loop Ellington. People were asking me for cd-r promos of it, so I thought this time I’d do 1000 cds as well as the vinyl.
When you left James in 1992, the story was that you wanted to pursue other musical interests including Spaceheads and you supported James on the acoustic tour that year. Do you find the James connection is a plus or a minus in the improvised music scene?
It’s a plus but people don’t admit it. Because I’ve played with James, people take me more seriously because I’ve got that experience of playing in front of big crowds and experience with technology. I got my first radio mic with James so I could move around the stage and this time I got in-ear monitors. Those things can feed into smaller things. In terms of whether people like James in that scene, quite often they don’t even know them. That scene can be quite snobby, but some people do love them and some think they’re rubbish. And that scene has to be quite protective of itself because it’s a small audience and it’s sort of outside of music almost.
Going back to Spaceheads, what are the plans after the EP comes out?
We’ve got more songs recorded. We’ve got an album’s worth of stuff and we’ve been thinking about how to do it. Rather than release an album, we thought let’s do EPs and do them in a row and build and keep interest. It’s more expensive to do it that way, three EPs rather than album.
It’s difficult nowadays though, as a band, as you drop an album and within a month almost it’s gone and there’s not as much longevity as there used to be. If there’s nothing new for 12 months, people forget you.
Yeah exactly. The EP thing is a way of keeping that interest going. Our stuff doesn’t sell quickly, but sells over time. So we’ve got all our old stuff online to buy and download and the hope is people will go back and look at the old material as well.
So will you be going out and touring the record?
Not immediately. As I said, we can’t do it just yet, but we’re looking two or three years ahead. We’ll do two or three EPs then hopefully an album on Merge Records in the US who are quite a big label, probably too big for us, but they love us. We’ve already done two albums with them and they’re a big label with bands like Arcade Fire, She And Him, Sugar, Lambchop and Magnetic Fields.
If people are going to go back and check out your older material, where would yo recommend that they start?
They should be prepared for a lot of stuff out there, but it’s all trumpet, effects and drums. If it’s something like Sun Radar, then it should be the first album with Merge called Angel Station, that’s a good starting point. The second one from Merge, Low Pressure, is a follow-up to that and a bit more chilled out. We do a lot of more atmospheric ones. One of our early live ones, Round The Outside, is quite a rough recording from our nine-week US tour in 1996, but it has some great moments on it.
Are you still working on other projects, such as David Thomas And The Two Pale Boys?
Yes, I’ve got some gigs coming up with David Thomas. He’s less busy with the Pale Boys and concentrating more on Pere Ubu. The guitarist is playing with them and coincidentally he asked me to join Pere Ubu at the time James got back together and Tim had already asked me to come back. So I didn’t hear from him for a while.
So, to finish, what are your plans to release the two other Eps?
We plan to release one later this year and the other early next year. They’re pretty much recorded. I suppose the big change with this EP is I’m doing the promotion myself. It’s the first time, other than the Loop Ellington single, that I’ve put something out myself. I’ve never had to promote myself before, it’s not easy to do it.
But it is the best way of making sure it’s done how you want it, to do it yourself.
Yeah, but it takes up so much time. Since the end of last year, I’ve not done anything but getting this cd out to people. It’s hard to make judgments on what’s right to do and what’s a waste of time. It’s not something I want to keep on doing if it doesn’t get easier, but it’s a necessity at the moment. Once I know what I have to do to sell a certain number of records and how long it’ll take me to do it, then it’ll be fine, if it’s under control.
Sun Radar EP is out now on cd and vinyl. It can be purchased from the Spaceheads on-line store and will be available on the merchandise desk on James’ upcoming tour.
Comic Relief. Mainstream TV to raise money for those causes that our government should be funding rather than tax cuts for their Millionaires friends. Yet this year there’s an interesting sub-plot. The official Comic Relief song is performed, if you can use the term, by One Direction and Syco have the exclusive rights to support a worthy cause. Yet, there’s a band from Manchester and a comedian from Bolton who are providing an alternative story.
Everyone knows James, yeah? The band that has one song. If you’re English, it’s “Oh Sit Down next to me”, if you’re American it’s the one off the American Pie soundtrack (Laid).
Yet, despite all the hype about Madchester, the fact remains that James outsold The Stone Roses and Happy Mondays. Multiple times over.
Sit Down was their big song. First released on Rough Trade in the summer of 1989, it didn’t trouble the top 50, yet on re-release in March 1991, it entered the charts at number 7 before rising to number 2 and being held off the top slot by Chesney Hawkes “The One And Only” and Cher’s “The Shoop Shoop Song”.
Peter Kay is a comedian, always true to his Northern roots, despite the success he’s achieved. Phoenix Nights is based around his love of those Northern working men’s clubs you don’t get if you venture south of Birmingham.
He’s always been a James fan too, there’s an amusing touch on their 2008 Live cd where he introduces the band and insists that they play Lullaby off the Laid album.
Last month, James and Peter Kay met up in Stockport and Bolton to film a new video for Sit Down to support Comic Relief. There was no re-recording of the song, just a video that reminds everyone just what a fantastic song it is once you take away the blanket radio play it got twenty years ago when it was cruelly robbed of that number one slot. And more importantly, it’s about what Comic Relief is about, far more than the latest career move of a manufactured pop band controlled by Cowell’s evil empire.
It would be an amazing turn of events if Sit Down outsold the official Comic Relief single. Licensing rules mean it can’t be advertised as an official song, although the video can be downloaded as part of an iTunes package containing a bigger Peter Kay sketch. Wouldn’t it have been fantastic if the two could have gone head to head, all in the name of charity? And the underdog won. Because at the end of the day, that’s what Comic Relief is all about, but Cowell and his cronies know all too well from the Rage Against The Machine debacle the power of public opinion in the face of a truly classic song.
You can donate to Comic Relief by following this link without adding to the Syco and One Direction machine or by buying the Peter Kay package. But if you went and spent 99 pence of your hard-earned money downloading Sit Down, then maybe, just maybe….