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The following page includes an assortment of James bios from festival programmes.

Browse the gallery of James mugs that have been sold at shows over the years.

Browse the gallery of James shirts that have been sold at shows over the years.

Before James became known as James in 1982, they had a number of what can only be described as “interesting” names.

Venereal and The Diseases

Quite what the obsession with the sexually transmitted ailment was is not clear, but this was the name under which Paul and Jim played their first gig together at Eccles British Legion. The name lasted one gig.

Volume Distortion

Keeping the initials VD and with Gavan now on board, this name change was probably more to do with the quest for gigs and the problems the old name might cause.  Or maybe it was Paul’s insistence on regular changes to the name.

Model Team International

Paul’s girlfriend worked for a model agency in Manchester called Model Team International and they had t-shirts which the band took and named the band after.  A swift change ensued when the manager of the agency threatened legal action.  At this point, Tim had joined the band as dancer / backing vocalist.

Model Team

A shortening of the name to appease the model agency boss. Didn’t last long as the band felt the name didn’t have the same ring to it .. and they couldn’t get free t-shirts anymore.

Tribal Outlook

Only in use for a short period of time as Paul decided the band needed a single simple name and quite frankly, it’s not a very good name is it?.

James

There are various stories about the James name:

1. Paul decided the band needed a simple name and decided it should be named after one of the band.  Out of modesty and not wanting to make it sound like it has his band, Tim declined to use his name.  Paul didn’t want to use his name.  Gavan sounded like a heavy metal band. So James it was, after Jim
2. Tim had a passion for the writings of James Joyce and insisted on James as a tribute to the writer.
3. Jim : “It was named after me because I was the most talented and good-looking” (Come Home video 1990)
4. Paul was obsessed with Orange Juice, who had taken the fledgling Model Team International out on tour with them, and in particular guitarist James Kirk and the band was named after him. The band reasserted this was the reason for the name during TV promotion for the Girl At The End Of The World tour.

The official biography suggests that the reason was somewhere between explanations 1 and 4.

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James’ first time at the legendary Hacienda club in Manchester supporting Big Country. Larry was in attendance at the show and recorded it for the band with Announcement and Folklore from the gig appearing on The Gathering Sound boxset. Stutter from the show was also filmed and released on A Factory Outing video.

The show was immortalised on the wall of the new Hacienda apartments built on the site of the club with a PRS plaque in 2011 commemorating James’ contribution to the Manchester music scene.

Video

Hot new Manchester combo called James, possibly very likely on the verge of signing to home town favourites, the godly Factory.

James seem simple, four men, single Jimone on Factory Records. They make nothing of it – James have no phoney philosophical policies, no heroic hyperbole, no dull boasts or grand exaggeration.

Their attitude is more one of the days of ATV and Swell Maps than the flashy NY remixes and glossy art design of Quando Quango or New Order. Fittingly, their record is low-key, harsh, humble, naturally bitter and almost wilfully rushed and messy with little or no production. With the homely folk-feel of fellow Mancunians, those sensitive Smiths, James could easily make their fortunes as the obvious meeting between The Fall and very early Bunnymen. But then, they’re not that simple.

In fact, James are a highly peculiar thing; despite the splendid incongruity, they regard the relationship with Factory as one of mere convenience. “We just want to play gigs, and you can’t get gigs without a single. It’s a means to that end. Factory liked our tape, gave us gigs at the Hacienda and supporting New Order and then asked us to do an album. Then they wanted a mini-album, then an EP, then a 12″ – anything but a plain 45. They offered us help with production, artwork, all of which we declined. They’ve been remarkably patient. They didn’t even know whaat the single was until the day we recorded it! If anything it’s us that’s been difficult, and they never asked us to sign anything, which is all we wanted from anyone.”

Jimone then, is just three songs from James – “No A-side, it’s insulting to tell people which song is better.” All have different productions and all were recorded live in the studio rather than “piece by piece on headphones” (they sneer well). The result from the snappy, slap-dash funk of ‘Fire So Close’ to the terse rumbling of ‘What’s The World’ and ‘Folklore’s unusual charm, is tentative; taut, almost disastrous, ultimately admirable, erratic and brilliant, with a concentrated anger and strange, rambling beauty that begins to prepare you for the fierce challenge of ‘Stutter’, a live highlight and their first moment of Greatness.

Although they’re clearly prepared to be bold and determined to be different, the James boys are softly-spoken, shyly nervous, modest and wisely-aware of their own possibilities. Too bashful to talk to my tape, reluctant to have their pictures taken or to lend me demos or offer up influences, they even resist my attempt to discover devious intentions behind their choice of sleeve (a scrappy green and red felt-pen design of an elongated ‘Jimone’). The idea was to do one drawing each, and then choose. (Laughter breaks loose) Jimmy was the only one who finished! But it’s only a sleeve, even if it is Factory (who, perhaps justifiably, hate it). We want to be judged by our music. As long as it keeps the record clean, it’s fine.”

With their past, their plans and motives, James remain strangely straightforward. “We just want to play live. We may stay with Factory, we may learn about production and change. We may learn to worry about sleeves. So far though we’ve done one single on Factory. We’re happy with that.”

So, for now, Fac 78 is by James. The name was “simple, unassuming, didn’t give any clues…” And James are Jimmy Glennie (bass), Tim Booth (vocals), Paul Gilbertson (guitar), Gavan Whelan (drums).

But you can believe it’s a great deal stranger than that. James. That’s it.

Setlist

Details

• Venue: BBC Maida Vale Studios, London, UK
• Date: 17th October 1983

Songs

• Discipline
• Hymn From A Village
• If Things Were Perfect
• Vulture

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Summary

An early version of Just Hip recorded with Nick Garside in 1983 that appeared on a Record Mirror cassette and is previously otherwise unreleased

Track List

Just Hip

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Interviewer : Before the break you heard, well it was going to be the A-side of the new James single until the boys asked me to flip it over. I did in fact play If Things Were Perfect which is the b-side from Hymn From A Village and I’m delighted that James have popped in on this unearthly hour and well, as I’m sure they’ll explain they’ve got a busy time ahead of them. So welcome Gavan Whelan, Tim Booth, Larry Gott and Jimmy Glennie.

Jimmy, this is a boring question but you didn’t contribute to the name, did you?

Jim : Erm, not really. It was the old guitarist who thought it up. We’ve also got another James over here actually because Larry’s first name is James as well

Interviewer : Ah, one of those complicated set ups where one has to change their names. If you were all Scotsmen, you could all call yourself Jimmy anyway

Tuesday in fact, your tour supporting The Smiths starts. Is that correct?

Jim : Yes

Interviewer : So how many dates is that. Twenty odd dates?

Tim : Twenty-six dates

Interviewer : Oh, you must be looking forward to it, you’re going to be playing to a lot of people.

Tim : Yeah

Interviewer : More than one word answers fellas or we’re going to throw you straight into the studio.

Now this track, we played before, If Things Were Perfect, you did in fact record it live at Strawberry, is that right? No overdubs, nothing?

Tim : All the songs are recorded live but I was singing in a separate room. We did do overdubs for backing vocals because the studio couldn’t handle it.

Interviewer : So is that the way you record all your stuff?

Tim : We like to record like that but it’s very hard to find studios that will cater for it because they’re so into doing like great drum sounds and individual instruments. They don’t like the idea of someone coming in and doing it live.

Interviewer : How did the gig go? I mean I saw you last week with A Certain General at the Hacienda? Did you enjoy that gig?

Gavan : Not really. No

Interviewer : Why?

Gavan : Just the atmosphere. It was very cold.

Interviewer : Very cold. You’ve played the Hacienda before, didn’t you? I think I saw you

Gavan : I think we’ve played about six times

Jim : A few times

Interviewer : I mean that’s something we could talk about in the future. I know you’re busy for a few months with The Smiths. It’d be nice to put a Last Radio Programme James gig on and possibly record it. If you know the way you guys go about things live, it might be a good thing for the radio. That’s something we can discuss later.

This is in fact the second time you’ve supported The Smiths. You did some Irish dates with them.

Gavan : Yes. That was good.

Interviewer : Did that go well?

Gavan : Very well

Interviewer : How do you find The Smiths audience? I suppose it can’t be a bad time to support The Smiths with the album at number one. I presume the whole tour has sold out now. Has it?

Gavan : Yeah

Tim : Yeah

Jim : In Ireland it was great, but the audiences are really different over there. People go along to enjoy themselves so they do

Interviewer : Are you prepared for this tour in as much as audiences are going to vary from town to town? And sometimes you’ll go down well when you’ll appear not to go down well.

Jim : We’re used to that.

Interviewer : There again, I suppose Manchester is notorious for that. You think you’ve had a bad night and in fact people love you.

Tim : Yeah, we never seem to play well in Manchester actually.

Interviewer : You don’t?

Tim : No

Interviewer : How far, I mean I presume you’ve played London and places?

Tim : Yeah, we’ve played all round the country.

Interviewer : So at the moment you appear to be quite a fashionable band in as much as you’re The Smiths favourite band and everything. So you’ll have quite a lot to live up to. I mean when we had The Smiths in here, we had Johnny and Mike Joyce in September, October, November time, I can’t remember when, when Hatful of Hollow was coming out, and all they did, instead of promoting themselves, was promote James. So it’s quite nice to know that Manchester’s favourite boys are big fans of yours.

Tim : Yeah, we pay them a lot of money for that actually.

Interviewer : You don’t manage them, do you?

Tim : No, but Morrissey’s our PR man

Interviewer : Is he? I’ve not really studied the NME poll but weren’t you mentioned in Morrissey’s favourite bands in that?

Tim : Yeah

Interviewer : Excellent

Tim : I mean they keep doing this, it’s really nice of them, we can’t understand it either.

Interviewer : Are you embarrassed by it?

Tim : No, it’s alright. If we were just like The Smiths friends, then we’d be put a little bit in the deep end but we reckon people will see something and it will be OK. We’ve got the music.

Interviewer : So what happens after The Smiths tour? Is that too far forward planning?

Gavan : We’ve got three gigs coming up in Paris, they’re maybes.

Interviewer : Have you played Europe at all yet?

Gavan : No, we should have gone over last year sometime to Brussels but that never came off.

Interviewer : Well, I’m sure you’re well prepared for the tour.

Factory-farmed, JAMES tuck into a bean fest with carrot-crunchin’ DON WATSON.

“We take a lot from TV, particularly children’s. We used the Rainbow theme tune too. Beatrix Potter is a big influence.”

EVERY DAY they deliver themselves to the door of the pop abattoir. Fresh-faced, pink-cheeked and plump, they line up at one end, patient and compliant.

And they conveyer belt grinds away. . .

From the other end emerge neat little packages– pork pie singles, neatly cut and nicely glossed.

What’s so disturbing about our current breed is not only the unnatural strength of their herd instinct, but also their apparent zest for their own carve-up. If they don’t yet come ready-sliced, they’re sure marked “cut on the dotted line”–and in their own eye-liner, too. Retarded pigs, woolly-brained sheep and prize turkeys the lot of them.

Under such circumstances, it’s scarcely suprising that some of us have more sympathy for the wolves– they may be hard at the core but their company is more fun. But every now and then, from the ranks of the herbivores, there falls an unlikely offspring.

Such are James, strange and ungainly, awkward and charming– a black sheep at last.

HERE THEY come in their cardboard box van. Here they come, trundling around the country in a truck designed for the get ahead greengrocer of the 1950’s. Here they come, the reputed Taoist vegans, another Manchester quartet supporting The Smiths on their nationwide tour. Here come the old pop perpetrators. Playing music! Eating beansprouts!

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce James– saviours of nothing at all, suppliers of intriguing music.

Vocalist Tim wears what appears to be a white football jersey onstage and possesses possibly the most appalling pair of shoes I’ve ever seen (the kind that look like large brown omelettes). He talks softly and convincingly but warns the listener that by tomorrow he’ll have changed his mind. He has a sense of humour (which, with those shoes, is just as well).

Drummer Gavan has a beard, wears shorts onstage, and maintains he once liked Led Zeppelin (he also has a sense of humour). As recently reported, he has been known to indulge in jam sessions with house bands in Greek restaurants. “But they threw me off after two numbers,” he moans, “and charged me full price for the meal.”

Bassist Jim is thin with short straight hair and is, for inexplicable reasons, a generic Mancunian. He started James when his friend at school bought a nicked guitar.

Guitarist Larry has a beard and wears glasses. He appears onstage in yellow trousers.

James are, as everyone associated with Factory has told me, strange.

Our first encounter takes place after this first support slot on The Smiths tour. In their van, they’re tucking in to a celebratory post-gig mixture of baked beans, bean- sprouts, and brown rice. They have to be back early to their bed and breakfast abode– this ain’t rock and roll.

“Vegans yes, Buddhists no,” they maintain concerning certain rumours currently circulating. “God knows where they got that one from.” They continue to conduct a eminently knowledgeable conversation about the yin and yang of food.

Passing their home photos to the bemused photographer, they discuss how it nice it would be to stick a snap-shot of a friend on the front cover of NME as representative of a James piece. They seem to be serious, although with James it’s often hard to tell.

LIKE I say, James are strange and indeed it’s their strangeness that’s their strength. As evidence, may I refer you back to their two excellent Factory singles– ‘Jim One’ and ‘James Two’.

Released in October ’83, at a time when the country was rank with Postcard plagiarists, ‘Jim One’ didn’t sound too much like_ anything, but it was touched by a almost frantic energy that charged with the thrill of a “Falling and Laughing”, a “Radio Drill Time”, or a “Get Up an Use Me”.

‘Folklore’, the most individual of the three songs on ‘JIm One’, took the same folk tinges that were being touched by the then nascent Smiths, and expanded them to full nasal extremes. Lyrically they played with self- examination, humour and contridiction, spinning a delightful web of nonsense. There was something special about ‘Jim One”.

From here to silence. The Smiths rose, James ducked. Illness, and their insistence on individual methods kept James schtum. Their low profile was broken only for the odd New Order support slot– their ruptures were met with raptures but still no more was forthcoming. The conveyer belt was not for James.

As undoubtedly the brightest prospect for ’85, James were to be the cover of the New Year NME. They refused– “We want to introduce the band by music, not words,” was their argument. James are not interesting in shouting, Look at Me!

Now at last, there’s the second single, the classic ‘James II’, pairing the offbeat anthemic ‘Hymn From a Viilage’ with the spindly romanticism of ‘If Things Were Perfect’. And with a support slot of The Smiths grand-scale British tour, it seems that James are, however reluctantly, set to attract attention.

THE SMITHS have sown their seed, but not yet spawned their imitators. Some cloth-eared observers, seeing Morrisey as a man who might not be averse to flattery, have misread James’ sincerity.

“It doesn’t really annoy us,” says Tim, “it doesn’t really touch us, because we’ve been going so long, and anyone who really took the trouble to find out about us would know that we’ve been playing those songs and that music before, it’s just through force of circumstances, and through the popularity of The Smiths that we find ourselves in fashion.

“We’d worry about it if we didn’t have strong songs, but we do.”

There are features in common of course, a certain folk influence a vulnerability in the singing. Not that it’s a race, but in many ways James are ahead of The Smiths; live they reach far further into areas of form experimentation only touched on by The Smiths in ‘Barbarism Begin At Home’. Morrisey is certainly not taking the easy option by inviting his favourite band on tour with him.

“They were offered money to take people on this tour,” Tim points out, “but instead they’re paying us and losing money.”

“WHATS THIS then, a school party?” asks the hunched caretaker in West Country drawl as photographer Ridgers leads us through the graveyard gate towards the mausoleum for the photo-session.

Um no, we just wanted to have a look around.

“Weeeell, you be supposed to get permission, there’s some strange_ things been happening around here.”

“Strange unnatural_ things,” we chorus once out of ear-shot.

Strange James may be, but unnatural never. Their vegan lifestyle, their attitude toward music is all directed to the concept of natural music– that may sound like a soundtrack to meusli munching, but there’s a touch more to it than that.

“If you drink a lot or whatever,” says Tim, “you’re always swinging from one extreme to another. A lot of our approach is concentrated around the idea of maintaining a balance.”

“Then you have the strength to pursue your own interests, rather than being pulled by other influences,” says Jim.

“You have a strong centre which you can then work from,” Tim continues. “People have this idea that balance has something to do with conservatism. They seem to think that it’s the core of this society, which is rubbish, this society is a very unbalanced one. To be balanced in this society is to be radical and extreme, whereas to be ill in this society is to be normal.”

Of course I have my copy of _Under The Volcano_ peering from my pocket and can’t quite agree with this as a rule. Try as I might I can’t picture Jane Fonda as more extreme than Charles Bukowski, Malcolm Lowry or Antonin Artaud. My mind also runs to favourite sick men like Nick Cave and Blixa Bargeld, sometimes victims of their own excesses to be sure, but far from normal.

Black sheep James have it seems, been tempted themselves to run with the wolves.

“Something like the early Birthday Party was really appealing to me,” says Tim, “and it was appealing because it was self-destructive, it appealed to the adolescent in me. You look at the world, see how awful it is, realise you can’t change anything and you just turn your anger inwards, you just want to burn up. It seems like a romantic, mythical way to go, but inside it it’s really shit.”

Tim recently had a dream.

“I met Nick Cave, and he was showing me a video of The Birthday Party doing a fantastic version of ‘Dead Joe’ and I was going God! How did you do_ it? Then I looked at him and his face was just covered in huge craters, turning green and falling away in lumps, and I said, Ah, I see how you did it! It seems that if you really want to create that type of poison then you’re going to get poisoned by it in the process.”

Instead James have swung to the opposite extreme– and their resultant individuality is testament that it is, as they claim, an extreme. Particularly live, James are a certain sound pushed towards its limit.

“It is a matter of the balance between order and chaos,” says Tim, “always seeing how far you can go without the results sounding actually unpleasant. Always teetering on the brink of pure chaos, but always keeping that thread.”

IN THE age of gloss-finished, soul-less single, ‘Jim One’ and ‘James Two’ are appealingly messy. They sound urgent, direct, and rough around the edges.

“That’s because they’re recorded live,” explains Gavan, “also because quite frequently, we don’t know where the songs are going to start and stop.

“Particularly live the songs are rarely in a finished form, they’re just collections of threads of ideas that that can always vary. The idea, theoretically, is that when a song stops being changed by the new inputs and new ideas then it’s recorded and then ideally we never play it again.”

“Unfortunately it doesn’t always work like that,” counters Tim, “With ‘If Things Were Perfect’, for example, we’d been playing that for three years, then on the day we came to record it, it just changed.”

So what if you had the money to afford a big expensive studio and expensive production?

“I think we’d record rehearsals instead,” replies Jim, “or maybe work in a classical studio with the methods we use now. The trouble with working with rock studios is that they’re just not used to doing live recordings.”

“We have got tamer,” says Tim, “we’ve had to. At one time the majority of our material was made up onstage, and either we’d be great or we’d make absolute arseholes of ourselves.”

“Once on a New Order support slot, Jim and the other guitarists we had at the time just went on with acoustic guitars and jammed. We used to swap instruments a lot more too; one time Gavan just walked offstage and left us to get on with it, leaving me to play drums. We used to do that a lot, just disrupt each other deliberately, just to make it more exciting, now we just leave songs open ended.”

It occured to me that ‘If Things Were Perfect’ showed the noble influence of the _Camberwick Green_ theme tune.

“Yes,” replies Tim straightfaced,”that’s where we lifted it from, consciously– we take a lot from TV, particularly children’s. We used the _Rainbow_ theme tune too. Beatrix Potter is a big influence.”

Sounds inconsolably twee.

“Not at all, have you read the _Tale Of Samuel Whiskers_? That’s about a cat that crawls up a chimney and gets captured by a big rat in a waistcoat who puts it in a roly-poly pudding. All the mother cat can hear downstairs is this roly-poly-roly-poly sound. She doesn’t know they’ve got her kitten and they’re turning it into a pie.

“I used to have nightmares about being put in a sandwich after that one.”

JAMES ARE happier in the turnip field opposite than in the mausoleum. Once the photo-session’s over they can even dig up dinner.

Are you a bunch of hippies?

“Hmmm, radical Neils, that’s the current stereotype for vegetarians, isn’t it?”

As with The Smiths, there’s a strong undertow of folk in James’ themes.

“My dad’s a folk singer,” says Gavan, “so that might have something to do with it– 24-verse Scottish ballads and all that which takes some doing.

“I think there is a bit more to it than that, though, it’s a lot to do with modal tunes, which seem to be in all of us. What we used to do at the beginning was to try and strip our influences down– if we jammed a song and it sounded a bit too much like Joy Division, New Order, Birthday Party, Pop Group or whoever, we’d just stop playing it. When we stripped them all down we were left with folkish, modal tunes. There’s something about them which seems to be characteristic of British people.”

HERE THEY come, trundling around the country in their top-speed-20 van.

Why, you sometimes wonder, do they do it?

Jim: “When you play a song at the point when you write it, and it’s just so good. In a way you know that you’ll never play it that well again, there’s a tremendous buzz from that.”

Tim: “When everyone changes together at the same time and you’ve never played the song before, so you shouldn’t know, but just because you’ve been playing together for so long you anticipate it.”

Larry: “It goes on to another level and everyone realises and starts grinning at one another.”

Tim: ” You’re trying not to stop because all you really want to do is burst out laughing. So we play for about 20 minutes and then fall about in hysterics.”

“Then you’ve got to condense 20 minutes of ideas into one song,” says Gavan.

“Most of our best songs actually are based on mistakes,” says Tim. “When you make mistakes that’s when you’re acting from yourself, rather than what you’ve learned or heard before– chord changes that go wrong, drum beats that fall apart.”

“When it collapses,” Gavan adds, “somehow something comes out of the other end.”

Meanwhile the conveyer belt grinds on. . .

Tim: ” ‘If Things Were Perfect’– it’s partly about the way people will say, Hey! We’re having a great time! Come and join us! But you really know they’re not, they just need people to reinforce the idea that they’re having a great time, you can see that they’ve got frozen smiles.”

Somehow I get the impression that James will keep going their own sweet way.

Muriel Gray : Now Tim, can I ask you first of all – is this going to be a real bug bear, the fact that Morrissey from The Smiths has been describing you as a brilliant band. How are you going to live that one down?

Tim : We hope that people will take the trouble of coming to listen to us and they’ll hear and see for themselves.

Muriel : Because obviously you’re just about to go on tour with The Smiths. A nationwide tour that’s just about to start.

Tim : We’re in the middle of it now

Muriel : In the middle of it now? So where are the next dates you’re going to be playing then?

Tim : Margate and Ipswich and then we’re moving up north a bit, more to Manchester and Nottingham and places like that.

Muriel : Now is it hard doing a tour like that with someone who’s obviously so popular. You are from Manchester, you’re perhaps living in the shadow of all these other famous Factory bands. How do you see yourself going on from here?

Tim : What other Factory bands?

Muriel : Well, one or two little names. New Order and so on

Tim : We see it building. We just want people to see us and hear us and not believe what they read about us and make up their own opinions from live concerts and live performances.

Muriel : Because there’s been some quite amazing things written about you hasn’t there? Like you’re Buddhist vegans. Is this true?

Tim : No, it’s not true, not true at all.  Not for one of us.

Muriel : Why do you think people write these things about you? Just trying to make a little more publicity?

Tim : I don’t know. We don’t say too much so I think people tend to fill in the gaps for us and make up things and let their minds run away with themselves.

Muriel : This is quite a new eighties thing isn’t it? The quiet sensitive young men with guitars. Is this an image you’re falling into a bit?

Tim : Don’t know how to answer that question

Muriel : Because you are in fact a quiet sensitive young man.

Tim : I don’t think so, not necessarily. And it’s not an image we’re falling into. I mean, if we are quiet sensitive young men, we probably wouldn’t know it anyway

Muriel : Well, we’re very pleased to have some quiet sensitive young men on this programme, I can tell you. So what’s the next number you’re going to play.

Tim : It’s called Johnny Yen and it’s about very unquiet insensitive young men who used to frequent rock n roll a lot.

Audio

Setlist

Details

• Venue: BBC Maida Vale Studios, London, UK
• Date: 9th March 1985

Songs

• Hup-Springs (a.k.a. Sandman)
• If Things Were Perfect
• Johnny Yen

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The encore of this gig was recorded for the Old Grey Whistle Test.

Sounds review by Bill Black

The last Big Noise to burst forth from an ICA Rock Week was The Jesus And Mary Chain and this they did literally when scowls from the stage gave way to scuffles in the foyer. This might explained the “police presence” outside the prim bunker-like venue on the first night of “I Want Independents” week. But really, they needn’t have bothered.

See, James are nice boys, raised on Mama Morrissey’s milk of tragicomic humanism (I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when singer Tim wailed “An earwig crawled into my ear / Made a meal of the wax and hair) and gloriously devoid of trappings.

So the amps stayed miraculously upright, drummer Gavan stayed (for the most part) behind his Ringo-style kit – leaving the music to dwell amongst us with good deal of swank and even more swell.

To explain : James have completely redefined the traditional rock dynamic by replacing the ingenious devices of tension and release with … well, one long crescendo. So a song like “Prison” goes from bulky bass chords and hamstrung high-life guitar propped up by Tim’s nursery rhyme vocal melodies to a polyrhythmic explosion charged by octopus-armed Gavan and animated by Tim’s preacher man paroxysms.

The tease and dare is reinstated by James unique, not to say camp, delivery. And here lay my reservations for the evening. Music suffers from being bathed in contentment: what’s needed now is a more restless approach from this over-rehearsed quartet. But such nagging pales beside the simple fact that these grinning Mancunians have revamped the tones of guitar rock without replacing them with a worthless rattle of meaningless murk.

The next Big Noise.

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Audio

Setlist

Details

• Venue: BBC Maida Vale Studios, London, UK
• Date: 25th April 1985

Songs

• Chain Mail
• Discipline
• Folklore
• Summer Song

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James offer “an evening of tunes and other entertainment with help from some of their friends” on the 12th.

But to dispel rumours that they’ll be selling out over there and settling in Laurel Canyon to write their albm, they’ve set a couple of gigs for their return. They’ll be drawling at London’s Bloomsbury Theatre on July 17 and hitting the mega-festival circuit at the WOMAD Festival on Mersea Island on July 21.

James have dates at South Devon Hood Festival (7 July), Newcastle Riverside Centre (18) and Bristol Ashton Court Festival (3 August). These are in addition to their reported festival appearances at London Bloomsbury (17 July), WOMAD (21) and Manchester Platts Fields (2 August)

To coincide with this activity, the first two James singles have been remixed by Factory Records and are released this week as a 12 inch single

Summary

A live version of What’s The World included on a compilation cassette

Track List

What’s The World (live)

Details

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James play another IVY event at Basildon Gloucester Park on Sunday 4 August. And other new bookings for the band are Sheffield Leadmill (July 30), Bristol Ashton Court Festival (August 3) and Brighton Zap Club (8).

For a start, most bands who’d been feted by the music press and courted so assiduously by record companies would have jumped at the opportunity of selling their soul (music) by signing on the dotted line for a massive advance, and having their faces plastered across the nation’s news stands. Not James. Having dipped their toes into the murky waters and have decided to wait until they come up with a scheme to sterilise the cesspool before they plunge in.

After the release of their first single Jimone (pronounced Jim 1) during the back end of 1983, James laid low for a year, partly by design and partly enforced by singer and lyricist Tim Booth’s bout of hepatitis. In the last six months, the release of the musically more sophisticated James II (no prizes for the pronounciation) and the coveted slot as support on the recent Smiths tour has seen James move up from likely contenders to dead certs for the title of the “next big thing”

James pop is proving to be a breath of fresh air in what has become a stale self-congratulatory idiom. Gavan Whelan’s drumming provides a precise backbone for bassist Jim Glennie and guitarist Larry Gott’s whirling musical dervlish. When did we last have a potential chart act whose intelligent lyrics force you to put down what you’re doing and actually listen to the radio?

Comparisons with The Smiths abound, not least because Morrissey has taken it as a personal crusade to champion the James cause to all who would listen, and everyone else, too. The Smiths have based a career on perming Johnny Marr’s two tunes with Morrissey’s two theme – misery and sexual abstinence. Although most Smiths songs stand out individually, collectively they’re at risk of sinking into a whining sludge.

By contrast, James, with only five songs released so far, have traversed a breadth of emotion within a remarkably varied musical format. They have recently been re-released as a twelve inch under the title Village Fire. This combines the strangely hypnotic anti-sexist themes of Folklore, the drivingly anthemic rush of What’s The World (a genuine pop classic), the staccato-like angst of Fire So Close, the reflective romanticism of If Things Were Perfect and the powerful musical synthesis of the celebratory Hymn From A Village.

James have cultivated a reputation for being a bunch of eccentrics. False rumours abound that they’re a collection of crazy Buddhists, no doubt fuelled by the fact that they used to go around with their heads shaved calling each other “Buddha” or “Gandhi”. They’re also the proud owners of a van which looks like a relic from a time long past. They trundle up and down the country at a snail’s pace cooking their vegetarian food in this home-from-home. Every James interview seems to take place over a wholesome meal – we were meant to meet at The Hare Krishna Restaurant. What I still haven’t discovered is how a band who eat so much manage to stay so thin.

How did the name of James come about?

“Our ex-guitarist came up with it,” replies Jim. “He may have named us after James from Orange Juice, he fell in love with him.”

“Also, there was a surfeit of Jameses in the band then,” adds Gavan. “Anyway, my name would be too Heavy-Metal sounding”

Tim : “I don’t like the name much”

What would you prefer “Timothy”? Shane MacGowan of The Pogues observed that he would have preferred Jim to James. Do James get portrayed as being too serious?

“No, we’re not,” responds Tim, “we’re seen as wacky vegans, garden gnomes, Buddhist gurus or even Tiny Tims”

Jim : “People ask us banal questions like ‘Is Morrissey celibate?'”

Larry : “Or ‘Was Ian Curtis buried or cremated?'”

Tim, when you used to have your head shaved in the past, you said it was because you were disgusted. With what?

Larry : “Dandruff”

“That was my standard reaction in those days,” says Tim. “It was disgust with everything, myself included. It wasn’t a very positive outlook and it had to change.”

It was about this time that the Buddhist rumours were bandied.

Gavan : “We weren’t surprised, though they were false.”

“None of us adhere to any religions,” adds Tim. “They’re based on faith and belief, not personal experience.”

“Some Buddhist ideas are quite good. For example, the idea that this is all an illusion and that you label things, and then stop actually seeing them because you’ve given them a name. So you don’t actually see what a tree is, you just call it ‘tree’ and that takes care of that.”

What have been the major influences on you?

Tim : “Everyone is a hotch-potch of influences, it would be difficult to pull out any specific ones. Our childhood and parents are bound to have the greatest effect upon us. I used to go to church a lot and that’s coming out in our songs now – those God-awful Christian hymns! If we see something that’s too overtly like something else, we don’t use it.”

Gavan : “Individually we all have our influences but collectively they don’t come through.”

Gavan cites various jazz musicians while Tim talks of Doris Lessing. Interestingly, no mention is made of contemporary pop music. Do you ally yourself with any other bands?

“We hardly listen to pop music anymore,” replies Larry. “I think we share attitudes more than music with other groups.”

“We had a group outing to see Dollar Brand” adds Jim.

You’ve quoted him saying “I’m not a musician, I’m being played” before. What exactly did you mean?

Tim : “In our day-to-day life, thought results in a time delay before it’s translated into action. But when we’re playing and it’s going really well, we don’t really think about it, it just happens spontaneously. The music almost becomes out of our control.”

Gavan : “Usually when we rehearse a song for the first time, you get that feeling where the hair stands up on the back of your neck. We hit the highest peaks during our practices.”

You came out of Manchester at the time Joy Division were in their prime. They must have had an effect on you.

Jim : “A lot of their music was very minimalistic, simple and depressing and that did influence us. Although we’ve got away from the depression, we’ve always been pretty basic.”

An Indian restaurant in Whalley Range can throw up some strange characters. Eastern sounds float lazily around in the atmosphere, an old guitar sage sits in one corner while a bearded drummer taps constantly on the table whilst searching vainly for his vegetable dahl.

James are in the heart of their home city. And yes, it is raining.

The desperate race has already begun to discover that most lucrative of objects – The Band of 86.

In short, the collection of musical souls who will breathe fresh life back into a snoozy music industry, liven up the deadliest of dull charts – and make someone, somewhere very rich indeed.

While some noses turn sheep-like towards the preposterous preening of Sweet-On-Sennapods soundalikes Sigue Sigue Sputnik, and others to any number of pretenders to the U2 throne, there’s one band that have none of the trendiness of the former, nor the guitar swirling pomposity of the latter.

James are a Mancunian foursome. They’ve been around, in some form or other for six years, but play with the enthusiasm and joy of a bunch of novices.

James have a rather stupid name, but two timelessly charming singles on Factory Records to their credit.

They once supported The Smiths around the concert halls of Britain and – after much deliberation – have just been signed by the man who discovered Madonna.

James, erstwhile indie favourites and no doubt with neatly spruced belly buttons to the fore are making their play for big label success.

Tim Booth, Gavan Whelan, Jimmy Glennie and Larry Gott are the four individuals who make up James.

They laugh a lot, write rather good tunes and perform them with a sparse but energetic sound and much twitching and twirling from Timothy.

Their forthcoming single “Chain Mail” is the first since signing to Sire / blanco y negro for a rather nice, if undisclosed sum. Out at the turn of the month, it’s the first chance for most people to hear them.

“We want to be as big as Coca Cola,” says Tim. “But we won’t rot your teeth.”

It all began six years ago. The cultural centre of the music scene had switched from London to the North. The safety pin was no longer the holy relic it was purported to be.

Instead the cult of the dirty mac was in full fringe-flopping flow.

In Liverpool, Ian MacCulloch, Julian Cope and Pete Wylie were the monickers to bandy round, while Manchester’s greatest musical export since Freddie Garrity went by the name of Joy Division. Coming up the rear was one Mark E Smith and his cheery Fall crew.

And in the Whelan household’s front room, Gavan and Jimmy Glennie, just recently introduced by a mutual schoolfriend, were practising songs by these two most influential of local bands.

Some two years later, Gavan and Jim were joined by Tim, first as a dancer (and if you’ve seen them live, the wonders of his epiletic skank will already have been revealed to you), then as singer of the still unnamed band.

At this time, the vocalist was one Danny Ram, whose departure was followed by even greater things in the world of entertainment.

Jim : “On the Val Doonican show”

Tim : “He did the rocking chair. He pulled the string”

With a sense of humour like that in tow, Tim, Jim and Gavan set about thinking up a name that would sum up their musical aspirations. Or not, as it turned out.

Tim : “James really didn’t mean anything but it was quite an original name back them. There were no Smiths… No other bands with just a name for their title”

Gavan : “There were lots of bands with long names at the time”

Jim : “It was things like Echo and the Bunnymen, the Teardrop Explodes, that sort of alternative thing. Only it wasn’t alternative anymore”

Tim : “And with the name James, people didn’t know what to expect, a hairdresser, a poet or whatever”

Gavan : “So they got both”

Larry : “That’s right, we’re hairdressing poets”

Eighteen months ago, the line-up was completed when “old guitar sage” Larry left a life of teaching other people around Manchester how to find fame through six strings and some nimble fret work and took to a life of performing himself.

James first appearance on vinyl was three years ago with ‘Jimone’, a collection of three songs that long ago sold out of the initial few thousand pressings.

Together with James II (‘Hymn From A Village’ and ‘If Things Were Perfect’) they appeared on a 12 inch EP late last year, again on Factory.

Jim : “All we’ve done is made two singles with Factory. We’ve never signed anything and have never considered ourselves on Factory. I don’t know if they did. They were really good. They let us do whatever we wanted and it worked really well at the time”

Tim : “I think we always had our eye on moving, taking things on a step and just moving onto bigger things. Our experience with Factory in this country with the singles has been that they were quite …. inefficient in a way. And we didn’t want to trust an album worldwide to them.”

Gavan : “They haven’t got the capital behind them. They’ve got £5,000 or something for a single, but as soon as it’s released, then that’s the money gone. There’s no money to back it up until it starts selling.”

Jim : “We got to a stage where we thought we’d got good enough music to reach a lot of people, so we decided to sign up with a major label. There just doesn’t seem to be any alternative to us anymore.”

Ten years after the punk explosion was supposed to end the dominance of the major labels, it’s rather sad that bands still feel the need of the heavy backing of a major corporation to gain the success they yearn for, but such is the situation.

After months of rumours about large cheques exchanging hands in return for James’ collective signature, they finally signed for Sire together with blanco y negro in November last year.

So why was it necessary?

Larry : “To get an LP out basically”

Tim : “And to do it professionally. We’ve spent a long time on songs and you want them to sound the best you can”

Jim : “We signed with Seymour Stein. He’s the guy who signed Madonna and Talking Heads. So we want to be the next Madonna. They have this huge promotion scheme for us. They’re going to make us shave our beards and Larry’s going to have to wear compact lenses . We’re really into it, because we’re in to being puppets”

If James were at all hesitant about relinquishing their indie status and “selling their souls to the devils”, they hide it very well.

With their diminutive minders Martine and Jenny keeping a sharp eye on their business interests, just how much control are they going to have over the way they are to be sold to the wider record buying public?

Tim, Jim, Gavan, Larry : “None!”

Tim: “We said, do what you want with us. we want fame.”

Jim: “Give us your money. We will only sign for lots of money.”

Tim: “Thirty quid. We come cheap. Jim was a bit hesitant. We had to beat him every night to persuade him.”

Jim; “I was convinced we were worth 35, but. ..”

Behind the frivolity, though, is a group of people who appear to know exactly what they’re doing and are under no illusions as to the situation they are getting into.

Tim: “The thing is, we looked at different companies and the thing about Seymour Stein is that he seems to be quite a music fan whereas with everyone else we saw, there were nice individuals but they were ‘business men’.

“There are businessmen behind Seymour Stein, but it was nice to see the person in control of it all was a music fan.”

“We’ve got a fair amount of control. We haven’t got total control, which is what we thought we’d get, but we’ve got quite a lot. We thought we’d hang out for total control – for eight months – but we never got it.

“We all thought our music was so. ..”

Jim: “Brilliant. ”

Tim; “That they’d eventually say, do what you want, boys.”

Jim: “Geniuses, geniuses!”

Tim: “And unfortunately they weren’t like that. Some of them were incredible. They’d say, ‘Oh, this is great’, then suggest a single for release and say, ‘But you have to chop the last minute off the end’ or ‘You have to stick this or that in’.” Gavan: uOr ‘You’ve not got enough choruses’ or ‘Can anyone play a synthesiser?’.”

Tim: “One guy thought we had a few wild songs. but some good commercial songs too, so he thought we could make an album of commercial songs, then press a few of the wild ones and give them away to our fans.”

With the contract they have signed, though, James are confident that they’ll be consulted on everyttling to do with them.

“They can’t do anything without asking the band first, ” points out manager Martine.

Jim: “Then we say no and they just go ahead and do it anyway!”

So far, James’s media image has come across as anything from “Buddhist vegans” to surly musos to wacky chaps who appear to be wearing custard pies on their feet”.

Being neither Buddhists nor vegans, and there certainly don’t appear to be any custard pies hiding under the table today, there’s just the surliness and furrowed brows to find out about.

Unfortunately, James positively beam with good humour. (Well, Tim and Jim do, Larry kind of smirks enigmatically, while Gavan’s style leans more towards the wry curl of the lip than cheery grins, but it amounts to the same thing.)

Gavan: “Smiling. That’s something a lot of people have picked up on as well. We smile a lot on stage apparently. Dead wacky that”

Jim: “Smile ‘smugly’ at each other.”

Larry : “The fact that we’re from Manchester and Manchester bands don’t smile seems to confuse some people. The new Manchester misery guts school – James don’t just fit in.”

Tim : “That’s another thing. Not many “serious” bands smile. Bands which seem to have serious music they’ve worked hard on , you make a joke and it somehow seems to undermine it. There aren’t many bands that are passionate who also make jokes – even in records. There are some that sneak them in and hide them, and some like the Fall, you can’t tell whether it’s humour or grotesqueness. Instead, you’re meant to walk around being angst ridden and full of fury and depresssion”

Jim: “We are, aren’t we?”

James are under no illusion that as the new Duran Duran, they would stand as much chance as Michael Heseltine keeping his hair in place. The new Wham! even. And as for the new Aha – well my dear, they wouldn’t stand an earthly!

No, their aspirations lie more in the area of Tom Waits or, more to the pop Talking Heads- artists who have achieved a fair amount of commercial success; but at no expense to their ‘credibility’ (ahem) or musical brilliance.

Larry: “What’s ‘big’ or successful anyway, Is it sales of records or is it how much in the public eye you are! There are some people who are not in the public eye and they sell a consistent number of records. That’s a good situation to be in.”

James’s music is never likely to be a favourite on the Steve Wright show nor are they perhaps the stuff the musical breaks on Pebble Mill are made of.

Their songs range from the quirky to the downright tuneful and pleasant. If the commercial success they deserve does come, it’s likely to be through building a following live and subsequent album sales rather than snappy three minute songs -although don’t discount that possibility too quickly.

Tim: “I think we might sneak in like the Police did. Their stuff was very good at the beginning. Maybe more commercially accessible than ours, but they went through and established themselves very quickly after hard work. ”

Jim: “We have got more commerciaily accessible songs. ”

Tim: “All we do is put them out the best we can in the way that we like them. I hope we’d never put out anything just sell large numbers.”

Jim: “Though if we’ve got mortgages going -!”

And so, with contracts signed, the first single waiting in the wings and maybe the odd new woolly jumper to add that touch of showbiz glamour, just how successful wouid James like to be?

Gavan: “I’ve thought about this one, and unless we change – change our music I couldn’t see our music going down well at Madison Square Garden.”

Tim: “We think our songs can be very popular though. Big as Madonna! Larry, when he’s got less clothes or looks amazingly like Madonna, so we could handle that one. Or big as Jesus”

.Jim: “Big as cheeses!”

Tim: “Yeah. Just like John Lennon said. ‘We’re now as big as cheesy wotsits’.”

That, indeed, would be fame.

Setlist

Details

• Venue: BBC Maida Vale Studios, London, UK
• Date: 20th January 1986

Songs

• Are You Ready?
• Really Hard
• Scarecrow
• Skullduggery

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“I’d like to put a disclaimer in at this point: Mat Snow is using very long word and drawing us into an academic discussion of our music when we consider it to be fun and quite simple.”

I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

“But I wanted that disclaimer. And that was no insult to you.”

None taken I’m sure.

“You’re using a lot of words, varied words, quite well-chosen words, but a lot of which you associate with theories and academics. ‘Hermetic’ things like that. When you talk to someone like that, you tend to start talking like that too; so if you quote us, it might make us sound … This isn’t the way we normally talk about things. So your piece will reflect, to a large degree, you – even down to the words we are using.”

Should you imagine that what you are about to read is a minefield of misinformation, plonking authorial projection and sheer misrepresentation of James, a pop group from Manchester, then think again.

A plethora of polysyllables and a thimbleful of theory does not mean no fun, it means James are scuttling around in the margins of pop, in an area so left-field as to present no easy comparisons or ready made definitions. So until someone can coin accessibly short and simple words to describe what James are up to, then volumes of verbiage will just have to do.

It is quite possible however that there are no stories about James that are not true.

Here I am tucking into a plateful of vegetarian chilli as the lecithin is passed round the table to be sprinkled on one’s food as an aid to the absorption of cholesterol and harmful saturated fats.

Also breaking bread in the parlour of Liverpool’s Amazon studios are Larry Gott, whose guitar is as mercurial as his demeanour is of guru quietude; bearded drummer Gavan Whelan, the band’s token drinker (“I’m the bad one, really, I haven’t come to terms with anything.”); bassist Jim Glennie, the soul of amiability; managers Martine and Jennifer, the diametric opposites of every cigar-chomping, turkey-talking shark of your nightmares; producer Lenny Kaye, six-foot-four of hair, New York bonhommie and jovial recollection of his illustrious track record with ‘Nuggets’, Patti Smith and Suzanne Vega; engineer Gil Norton, who wants to see his name in print; and an empty place for Monty.

Monty comes in. He is James singer Tim Booth, pale, quiet, seemingly lost in thought. Soft, unlined and somewhat angelic, his face is half-concealed behind a pair of spectacles so owlish and bulletproof as to scream for attention; likewise those Cornish-pastie shoes, the fashion sensation of the indie scene last Spring and still just as mindboggling.

Tim is an odd fish. From his careful deliberation when asked to talk about what he does for a living, you might expect a stoolbound stummer of the early 70s school, another Nick Drake perhaps. But when he’s singing, he shimmers in the grip of an electric spirit, as if he’s a medium or conduit for some kind of unearthly ectoplasm, a third whimsy, a third ecstasy and a third warning.

And yet it’s the mystique which might grow around such apparent schizophrenia that Tim is so keen to avoid – hence his disclaimer. Much though it might profit James to come across as some sort of professional enigma, they always steer my flights of fancy firmly back down to earth, down to the basics of simplicity, health and fun.

The boss of their former record label Factory (James have now signed to WEA subsidiary Sire), Tony Wilson, drew a telling comparison; the Dutch national football team. In the early 70s, Neeskens, Cruyff, Rep and the other eight purveyors of ‘total football’ believed that they were merely doing a job and never talked about it in any other way – but it was beautiful to behold. The next generation of Dutch footballers felt thus inspired to go out and self-consciously recreate that beauty on the park. Result : their football was a shambles.

But what we saw in the 1974 World Cup is of the same order as what we hear when James hit their stride. Harmony, Empathy, Alchemy …..

So let’s lob a few high balls into the box, Brian, and see if we can get a result….

“We’re just as mystified as the audience….”

What I’d wondered, is the meaning of those sidelong glances, inward smiles and sotto voce chat that makes a James gig so clubbable, so intimate and yet so ultimately exclusive of their audience?

“Each night of a performance one of us will choose a set list,” explains Tim. “And often one of us will choose a setlist that they know we really can’t play, an absolute minefield. The joke is, we don’t know where the changes are, so we have to look at each other to sat, Are you ready now for a change?

“Like in a performance, you’re just projecting out to the audience, and sometimes you find we haven’t got together, so I think, look at the others to try and bring it back in. Cos if we haven’t got it right amongst ourselves, we can’t push it out to anybody. If I feel the energy’s getting too dispersed outwards, we’ll try and retreat as a group to get this bit right so we can take it out again. It’s like juggling from one person to another. We have to be very alert to each other, very aware of what each other is playing.”

Gavan : “Because we’ve been in relationship with each other for quite a while, there’s more than just a connection between us when we’re playing. There’s a stronger link; through the songs we keep confirming that. A look is much more than that, much more expressive than that.”

Tim : “Sometimes says we must argue a lot, and you can see that in a lot of songs, and then you see more harmony coming in. It’s going towards harmony all the time.

“It’s like a personality, isn’t it? You can have a person who doesn’t express a lot of what they’ve got or doesn’t know a lot of what really lies inside them. The more you let out, then you’ve got to integrate it and make some sense of it otherwise you’re going to get into a bit of a mess. It’s the same thing with us. It’s like, getting bigger and bigger, but trying to integrate things within a song.

“Does that make sense?”

The flipside to the excellent new 45 ‘Chain Mail’, titled ‘Hup-Springs’, epitomises the beauty born of cock-up and the dashing trail of the untameable in hot pursuit of the unplannable.

“‘Hup-Springs’ was a three-year old song and we all got really bored and pissed off with it. So we said, Come on, let’s really push this one and see what happens. In the middle of the take Gavan dropped a drumstick, but everyone went with it! You can’t plan things like that. And when we listened to it, it was wild. You can’t better that – it had it’s own life.

“And that’s how a lot of the songs are formed.”

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha”. All I’d suggested was that James songs suggest a hermetic personality, imprisoned and armoured and in two minds – half wishing to get involved in the world of worlds and other people, half wishing to remain secure behind closed doors: perhaps, indeed, like a baby at the threshold of birth, torn between the womb and the harsh bright light of the world. Ahem.

I earn a round of applause as well as a laugh. But they agree the word tentative is not too wide of the mark.

“Originally there were four of us, and we knew there was something missing, something we were looking for, It could have been another person in the band, so we tried lots of people, but we haven’t found anybody who had a really likewise attitude. Then, to a degree, Lenny Kaye was that piece for the making of the single (James Lenny Kaye-produced debut LP ‘Lost Innocence’ is out in May). We didn’t know what producers did….”

Tim changes tack.

“We wanted a record company we could trust our records with – we’d made all these records we cared about like, to go back to your image, a mother whose got all these kids but she doesn’t want to let them out on to the streets, cos she sees what the world does to kids. But now we’ve decided everyone’s going to get tainted anyway, so you’ve got to give up and accept the fact that there’s no perfection. What happens is what happens. If we become bland and boring because of the process, then that happens.”

“I used to go to church every week and my Dad had a particular way of singing that people would think was out of tune and everyone used to turn around and listen to him, and the family would be really embarrassed. But when you know he listen to what he was doing, he was always in harmony but in a really strange way. Quite bizarre.”

I’ve heard tell of Tim’s closeness to his family and a possibly secluded childhood. Indeed, he seems far older than his 25 years, a serene young man seemingly untouched by his days as a post-punk raver when studying drama at Manchester University, during which period he was to some of his friends “the little woolly lamb”.

Gavan and Jim grew up in the same terraced street in Manchester’s Moss Side. Only one side of it remains now, the rest of the terraces torn down during their childhood to make way for tower blocks. Singing nursery rhymes whilst playing amongst the building sites is a memory; seeing The Beatles on TV is another. Inscrutable as ever, Larry’s roots lie in the anonymous Manchester suburb of Denton.

“If you think of a kid seeing the power of television, seeing the effect the Beatles caused. I bet that sticks in there,” speculates Tim. “But later on you might think of all these brilliant reasons why you want to be on stage – you were going to be a great actor or change the world – but the reason is it got attention. Everybody’s so insecure they think there’s some value in being special in a public way. The reality is you see how people get corrupted by it, really ill from it, with a vain and empty lifestyle.

“I’d acted twice in school plays and it sounded like a soft option at University and quite good fun. And I wanted to investigate acting because I thought people acted with each other all the time, and I thought this would penetrate to the heart of it. But I found it really boring, didn’t like it all. I could never remember lines!

“Purging demons? Hmmm, yes, in those days it was true. Acting used to put me through a lot that I hated, It used to put me on the edge, scare the hell out of me.

“Now I find I do better performances when I think it’s all a big joke, and I think we all share that. People say we’re playful and I think that’s when we’ve got it in perspective – it’s fun and that’s the way it should be. You’ve got all this stimulus coming at you and you’ve got to integrate it or else it’ll just drive you mad.”

Ever investigated Exegesis, EST, encounter therapy or the like?

“I’ve looked into a lot of those things. I find that a lot of them are very superficial and might work for a couple of weeks and then the holes start to fill back in again. And all of them are based on ego in the first place. Really, if you want something that’s going to last, it’s got to penetrate deeper than that.”

God?

“Those words are loaded – God! But there has to be some intelligence otherwise everything falls apart. Nature is such an integrated system that there has to be an intelligence behind it; it just couldn’t happen otherwise.

“When you go into the country on your own, you can become very harmonious, very peaceful. And yet when you come back to the city and the pollution and traffic noise and the speediness and the electric bombardment and the drink and the canned food and the cigarettes, you are different and then it’s easy to believe in disorder with chaos and no meaning.

“When I lived in Hulme, I got sick, I reflected the environment I live in. It all will end up being the case that you’re thinking of. The mind is a very dodgy implement to understand the world with and personally I wouldn’t trust it on any level. Intuition is much more penetrating than intellect because intuition seizes the whole all over. Whereas intellect will look at a cup as its outline and tell you its colour, but not see what’s in the cup..”

Which neatly runs up against the buffers of a zen-like truth about not just James but all writing about music, something almost by definition beyond words. Like that cup, I can see James in outline and tell you what colour James are. But as to what’s inside?

That’s for you to sup it and see.

The quartet return to live action with a hometown gig at Manchester PSV Club July 15 before a WOMAD Festival slot on the 19th.

Next month they’ve lined up a short tour at Barrow-In-Furness August 14, Edinburgh Hoochie Coochie Club 15, Aberdeen Venue 16, Dundee Dance Factory 17. More dates will coincide with the album’s release.

James are a new thing. Maybe one of the last new things that’ll emerge from pop’s depleted range of possibilities, maybe the herald for a whole new order. It’s difficult to say.

This is an interesting stage we’re suffering right now. In James’ words, we’re all “dying to begin again”- but the accent, as of yet, is on death, decline, drift, disintegration. James could be a penultimate, teasing glory, or the promise of renewal. It’s difficult.

James are at an interesting stage too, making tentative, hopeful steps into a larger arena. Everything that makes them different and special is precisely what will create difficulties for them. But it’s going to be an adventure.

James are very relaxed about it all. If they have a fault it’s perhaps that their affability and modesty can make you forget that they are “important” – if that word has any meaning left in the diminishing realm of rock 1986.

They like to represent what they do as simple and natural and uncomplicated, a reticence that makes it hard to talk when you’re convinced, as I am, that their music is a sophisticated response to complex times. Sometimes I get the impression they’d like to promote the new LP, “Stutter”, without elaborating at all on contexts and intentions.

“Stutter” was produced by Lenny Kaye, he of “Nuggers” and Patti Smith fame. You’d think a group as English and indie as James would be shy of linking up with someone with such heavy associations with a certain tradition of American underground rock ‘n’ roll. Or was this a conscious alignment, a coming clean about being a rock band?

With James, nothing is ever deliberate, it just happens. Guitarist Larry Gott: “His name just kept cropping up. When we eventually signed to Sire, the label’s boss, Seymour Stein, knew him, you see.”

Singer Tim Booth continues: “Lenny was a mixture of chance and choice. We talked to him and saw that he was really sussed. With him we were prepared to compromise, whereas with someone else, we might have closed ranks.”

Compromise? I can’t see much evidence of commercial bland-out/gross-out.

“Perhaps compromise is the wrong word,” suggests Jim Glennie, bassist. “It was more a question of letting Lenny’s input come into the music”.

What is clear is that Kaye has given James a scope and force and brightness of sound appropriate to a major label group. James now have as much in common with early Echo or U2 as with the more flimsy, brittle sounding shambling bands.

I think it’s important to stress that James are a rock group. Important precisely because they have so little truck with what we’ve come to associate with rock – the stale sleaze, the megalomania, the rowdyism, the swaggering sexuality. James are opening up possibilities for a new kind of rock, one that retains the accelerating and urgency, but relinquishes the aura of violence and overbearing masculinity.

James aren’t alone – throughout the indie scene, both British and American, people are coming to the same conclusions, drawing from similar sources, developing elements like The Velvets, Byrds, Television, folk, into a rock that’s not just post-rockism, but post-r&b.

It’s funny how all these hip white kids in Britain have appropriated the music and imagery of an earlier American bohemianism, only to use it as a kind of dissidence against present day Americanisation. The jangly/fuzz sound is combined with a defiant Englishness, a dissent from all that’s taken as Americanised in this country – video, wine bars, yuppiedom, soul boy culture, consumerism. A dissent from pop itself, in fact.

Strange and exciting, isn’t it, that purity has become hipper than wildness, that innocence has come to seem a more desirable, cooler, state of being than worldliness? Are James aware they’re part of a wider change?

They say they don’t listen to other music much, too much like a busman’s holiday. Have they got any ideas why this change is occurring?

Tim muses: “It’s a different period… we’ve had that wildness stuff, and it doesn’t last long because the nature of it is such that you’re pretty ill, you can’t maintain the intensity and you burn out very quickly. So you move on to something else, hopefully something a bit more positive, and long term.”

Larry continues: “It sounds like you’re putting this purity thing into a category almost like the punk explosion, or the rock explosion before that. I don’t think it will explode because of its very nature. Only things like outrage explode.”

“And dissipate just as quick,” adds Gavan Whelan (drums). “We’re more like something that seeps into your bloodstream.”

I’m interested that Tim speaks of moving on to something positive because, in most of the songs, you seem appalled by things, disgusted.

“I hope there’s more than that. I hope there’s something positive at the end. Like ‘Black Hole’ speeds up at the end and that’s the way you get out. Plus there’s humour too – y’know, ‘Beam me up Scotty’! There is a lot to be appalled at, but not all life’s like that.”

Perhaps what’s positive is just the transfiguration of sorrow in music, the sheer exultation in sound and energy. James are perhaps the best, most innovative and dynamic of jangly – nowpop groups, rivalled only by those Arizona mystics, The Meat Puppets. And it’s positive just to be able to write about bad things incisely, yet with wit and compassion.

Tim’s lyrics traverse a number of interlocking themes – how machismo brutalises (both victim and self), the restlessness of desire that will never find peace in materialism or promiscuity, non-communication – and return again and again to the yearning for a home, for tranquillity, for “nature”, and “truth”.

There are two really central concerns – pollution (of the environment, the body, of language) and illusion (social masks, self-deception). Tim will joke about “getting high on negativity”, but it seems to me that he does work himself up into a kind of ecstasy of denunciation on songs like “Just Hip” and “Your Loving Son”. And, because they’re exhilarating, charged pieces of music, we too get swept up in it. Both songs climax by spiralling up to the heavens and James’ music seems to strive to rise above it all, leave behind worldly concerns and base things.

But I almost feel sorry for all those people whose lives are being dismissed as “disguises” and “built on lies”. The new single, “Really Hard”, implores “wake up from this dreaming state”, and it’s almost as though Tim sees all of everyday culture as a mirage, as ersatz-satisfaction. So, what are we left with, once all the veils are stripped away? Clear vision? What, I ask, are the real things?

A long, embarrassed, smirky, silence ensues before Tim speaks: “Well, there’s love… and there’s waking up. Like, things are often not very real – lots of patterns in the way people behave, are dependent on the way they were treated as a child, on the environment they were brought up in, the school they went to, the psychological games their mothers and fathers played with each other, certain key events. All that can make people into a kind of machine, repeating. And when you find yourself repeating these patterns you try to wake up from that. When you start to wake up, it’s very exciting.”

What do people wake up to?
“An awareness of the part of you that isn’t asleep, that is aware, and that’s common to everyone. There’s no real language for it, you could get bogged down in mystical language, although that’s not how I see it.”

One thing that marks James out is the explicit way they address the way pop is a form of conditioning, how rock’s dead history of gesture can constrict our vocabulary of desire and self. “What’s The World” and “Hymn From a Village” were brilliant essays on pop’s redundancy and the search “for some words I can call my own”. The new LP contains “Johnny Yen”, an hilarious rejection of the self-immolation of the rock outsider/tortured young artist.

“When you start to make songs, all the songs you’ve ever heard come in, and you have to be very alert to the clichés. It’s another facet to waking yourself up.

“Clichés are dead songs, there’s no energy, no lift to them, cos you can predict what’s coming, from the first note in. Like “Hymn From a Village” stems from when we started to make a song and it seemed very robotic, like a cliché, and that led to the lyrics ‘this song’s made-up, made second-rate’. It was a sleepwalking song. So it’s the same with life – if you wake up, you become more alive, instead of just going through the same tired habits and responses to what confronts you.”

It seems to me that what James are attempting is a noble project. They’re trying to inject into pop ideas and practices that are foreign or actively hostile to what pop has always been about. Pop and rock have hitherto been very much take take take, me me me, want, want, want – whereas James are trying to introduce reflection, selflessness, a quiet life, concentration, into its scheme.

It makes me wonder that Sire think they can sell them. There’s too much that’s jarring and alive about James for the radio – the disruptive intelligence of their song constructions, the fact that you can tell people are there from their playing, will all make it difficult for people to use James as background listening. Are James too up-pop to ever be successful?

“Lots of people come up, like you, and say, I like it, but it’ll never be popular. But lots of people come up and say that! The truth is we just don’t know. We want to find out.”

Jim: “You’ve just got to show people that possibilities exist.”

Tim: “We used to think the music would sell on its own merits, but now we see we have to sell it, sell it on Jim’s face, Gav’s beard, my shoes and Larry’s glasses.”

I hope it works.

James play Manchester PSV Club on 15 July, a warm-up for their appearance in the WOMAD Festival the following Saturday (19).

They’re also set up for a string of four shows in August – at Barrow Bluebird Club (14), Edinburgh Hoochie Coochie (15), Aberdeen Venue (16) and Dundee Dance Factory (17).

The Mancunian four-piece have their new single So Many Ways / Withdrawn issued by Sire next Monday, with the bonus track Just Hipper on the 12″, but it seems likely that their August gigs will coincide with the release of their debut album Stutter.

Int : That was Really Hard, your choice to play as a track from the new album. Why Really Hard, Tim?

Tim : I sung the vocals on my birthday. Because it was my favourite song at the time

Int : Yes

Tim : I think that’s one of the most complete songs on the LP

Int : Many things have been said to typify James. One – vegetarianism.

Tim : Gavan’s drumskins are all made out of the finest leeks. We’ve really taken a stand on this

Gavan : Very expensive

Tim : And we come on dressed in vegetables as well, because we don’t believe in wearing animals against our skin.

Int : Yes, I thought that artichoke was rather fetching actually. Buddhism. Does that still come into it

(Band do lots of Buddhist chanting and meditating sounds)

Int : Ok, I think we’ve answered that one. Message then

Jim : Hello Mum

Int : Yes. From Jim of James. I saw you playing at the Anti-Reagan Rally

Tim : It just happened we were busking in Albert Square and then this march came round the corner

Jim : Oh, fucking hell

Tim : And we were standing there playing and thought well what are we going to do now. Maybe we can get some money out of it so we carried on playing for a few songs

Jim : Passing the hat around

Tim : But they soon told us to shut up

Int : Playing something like Albert Square. I mean that’s quite something in itself. Slightly different to your average venue.

Tim : It’s a weird game. Playing Albert Square. I prefer Monopoly.

Int : Is there a big difference with an audience without alcohol

Tim : A soberier audience? Usually the sober audiences just stand there and gawp and look really embarrassed and don’t know what to do with their hands.

Jim : Oh God, I’m really paranoid. Everyone’s looking at me, but I’m not drunk. Oh God.

Tim : And they don’t know how to handle it. Whereas a drunk audience.

Jim : Just fall over

Tim : Just forget it and take no notice of us and jump on each other and things like that. It’s easier to fool a drunken audience.

Int : Pop interviewer question number 227 – what are your influences?

Tim : What are our influences?

Int : Mancunian Doors? How do you take to that label?

Jim : There’s one

Tim : That’s really corny. The Doors were always out of their heads. And we’re never.

Gavan : Jim was. I don’t know about the rest of them

Jim : Speak for yourself

Gavan : Not as bad as he was

Tim : None of us need alcohol or drugs to fuel them. One of the ideas is that we don’t need it live.

Int : This energy, where do you get it from? Why do people resort to alcohol? Just to replace or imitate that sort of energy that you manage to get live?

Jim : Lightweights.

Gavan : I don’t think the drugs replace energy unless you’re using specific drugs such as speed or something. It gets rid of the inhibitions so you can do what you want. But I think drink, it saps your energy.

Tim : At the beginning when you go on stage, everyone’s really frightened and so if you have a few drinks, you can hide from that fear and a lot of bands do that. They never get past the stage where you actually stand up there and tell if you’re brave or strong enough and are as good as you can be.

Gavan : So that’s what you did with the artichoke was it?

Int : Finally, the deal with WEA.

Jim : Sire

Int : Sorry, what is it and why are you doing it as opposed to staying with Factory?

Tim : We never signed with Factory. We just did 2 singles with them. That’s all the agreement, that was done on a day-to-day basis. But we liked them a lot, we got on well with them, but we just got to the point where we felt our records were just not being distributed. We were doing a tour with The Smiths and in each city we would go into the record shops and none of them would have a copy of our records even though the record had just come out and we were doing a tour to support it. And we just felt we needed better support really.

Int : And you’re going to get it?

Tim : I don’t know. No, we hope so.

Int : So a very serious band then

Tim : Very serious.

“We were a bunch of yobbos when we first met,” says Tim Booth, the singer. Gavan Whelan (the drummer) and Jim Glennie (on bass) were in this nightclub where I was dancing, and I caught them trying to steal my drink! There were too many of them so I backed down quickly. But they asked me to dance in the group (Tim is a bit of a “whirling dervish” when it comes to moving the old feet about). And pretty soon I started singing. Larry Gott, the guitarist, joined about three years ago and we’ve been together ever since.”

James have a new single out called “So Many Ways”, and will soon be releasing an album called “Stutter”. They hope that both will do well because at the moment they all get paid the grand sum of £33 a week each i.e. not exactly a fortunette. They didn’t bother publicising their last single “just as an experiment” says Tim. Sounds like a bit of a silly idea to Bitz. So what happened? “It failed.” Hmm, thought it might.

Amongst other things, James are friends of Morrissey and The Smiths, who they supported on tour last year. Like The Smiths, they are also vegetarians, and can be v. serious.
“Some of our songs have political implications,” explains Tim. “We look at how world leaders are invariably the most screwed-up people in each country, and how countries are in a mess because of the systems that let people like that get to the top. But we also look at what makes people in general so insecure and so ambitious, and how to break that down. Some of the songs are about how to become alive and spontaneous and awake, not just a bundle of habits that we call a “personality”. We try to uplift with our music, not to depress!”

Pheeyeeew!!! So what is Tim’s greatest ambition?
“To become an enlightened person. To know what life is all about and to become fulfilled.”

Cripey o’stripey! James aren’t just a bunch of yobbos after all – they’re a bunch of seriously-thinking yobbos!

James are making quiet additions to their Book Of Brilliant Things. The current chapters have been probed ad nauseam – normality, music, Manchester, brown rice, garish jumpers and hipness.

But hark, what is this? Edging closer to inclusion are two unlikely contenders -London and a major record label.

Jim: “People in London are really scared and poranoid. They won’t even look at you. Everyone seems so busy and blinkered, living in their own little world.”

Larry: “But there are little pockets you can start walking through and feel quite nice about. Bayswater’s getting a bit like that because we’ve stayed there so often.”

James are also coping admirably with being small fish in the very big pond that is WEA Records. Jim: “We went to a major because we thought the music could sell to a lot of people. We’ve never felt swamped, in fact we’re quite enjoying it.

“We always knew there’d be hassles and we have had hassles but nothing radical. Irs never been, ‘Oh God, the end of the world!'”

Larry: ‘We had very naive ideas.”

Jim: “Very idealistic. We thought we could take the world by storm.”

Larry: “All we knew was that the record industry didn’t work on the principle that if you release a record and if the public buy it, you have a hit.

“If we’d tried to suss out the industry and built a plan of action, we’d have fallen flat on our faces. Our ideas of it 18 months ago have been completely blown to pieces. On the other hand, someone like Tony James can do it because he saw it all 10 years ago. He could go away, devise a masterplan and sell it to the people.”

Isn’t he the one who’s fallen flat on his face? Larry: “I think it’s the industry that has.”

Jim: ‘What happened was probably all he intended anyway. They must have known deep down that they’ve got a cheap, cruddy image that everyone was going to be pissed off with in a few months.” Either that or they’re more stupid than they look.

Larry: “As for the advertising on their LP, I’m sure people are just going to tape it and press the pause button during the adverts. That’s if anyone actually wants to listen to a Sigue Sigue Sputnik album.”

And are James going to be hitless hipsters for the forseeable future?

Larry: HI always thought we’d have a hit some time.”

Jim: .And we haven’t given up or this one yet.. (This one being the very splendid ‘So Many Ways’.) “These days, though, you have to get on the playlist and we’re not. I always used to think DJs played records they liked:’

As for the dreaded image business any record company pressure to enhance the oddity factor? Boxes of kaftans appearing surreptitiously on doorsteps, perhaps?

Larry: “Is our image that dreaded? No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. “No it was basically a case of, ‘Here’s James, let’s see what they can come up with’.”

Jim: “And our image is dead easy We just have to be ourselves.”

‘So Many Ways’ is just one of many delights unveiled on James’ first LP ‘Stutter’. The essential Jamesian elements are here in force -wild, uncontrollable melodies; rabid, unru voice; unbelievably tongue-in-cheek lyrics and, occasionally, a modicum of order.

Timothy Booth’s voice has a perplexing charm. It’s so, um …Larry”‘Weird is the word that springs to mind. Although, on Chain Mail’, he was really taking the mickey out of himself a bit with the highvoice.”

As for James’ poetic licence. ..’I love my black hole’, ‘I need a wash’ and other similar gems sung with such sombre conviction, they must be joking. None of this pilfering from Roget’s Thesaurus like other bands, though.

Larry: ‘We used to have really ba speakers for rehearsing. You could jt about pick up the melody, punctuating and that was about it. The words were totally blurred. ‘Really Hard’ started , as ‘Riddly Ya’. Tim was just improvising with syllables and vowel sounds until one of us mentioned ‘That song, ‘Really Hard'”

Enter Gavan and talk,of antiquated pop stars – Larry’s birthday being imminent. Larry: “Yes, nearly 21.. Ho ho. Too old to be sprightly young pop things, eh? Though such chart doyen as Morten Harket and Neil Tennant are surely giving hope to the elderly.

Larry: “Pet Shop Pensioners, more like..”

Jim: ‘We’re not old, are we, Gav? Gavan: .No, we’re fresh-faced young men.”

Jim: “Seventeen, in fact, so we car be pop stars.”

Larry: ‘Well, you’re going to be a right heart throb anyway, Jim”. (An acquaintance took a copy of James’ last appearance in these hallowed pages to Styal, a women’s prison.) the women were going, ‘Ooh, who’s he?’.

Jenny’ (James minder): “All these women who’ve been denied their conjugal rights for 15 years. If we ever play there, we’ll have to build a barbed wire fence around you.”

Is there something we don’t know? Why did a certain hotel refuse to hand over the undies Gavan left behind?

What is going on?

Sounds: August 1986 – In fear of earwigs crawling through their heads, these strange James boys tell Jonh Wilde about the bizarre phobias creeping through their pop music. Photo debris by Ian T. Tilton

Eighteen months ago, James were just born and didn’t give interviews because “people hadn’t heard the music and we wanted them to decide what it was like before they took another person’s opinion”.

These days, four singles and one LP forward, they’ll talk until their tongues start rattling about in their heads and their faces turn purple.

These days, they concentrate madly and try to make the chat as consuming as their extremely strange records. Today they tell me they’re being pensive because I’m being pensive, but it’s not always like this.

“We thought about suicide all the time, we didn’t see any other point in living, we at least wanted to go out with a bang. It seemed very romantic, and we came pretty close.”

Then came Factory, plucking them from the dusty corners, and their ambitions swerved away from hara-kiri and toward “making an album as good as ‘Horses’ or ‘Prayers On Fire’”. They settled, temporarily, for a brace of enticingly scruffy singles, little fussed over but beautifully insecure.

James were likely to remain a snug but slovenly concern.

The bee crept into the bonnet and started to hum with some true spite earlier this year. ‘Chain Mail’, part of their Sire ‘Sit Down’ EP, tipped the wink to crystalline melodies and purged words. James were scraping all the crusty bits from their Y-fronts and starting anew.

And last month came ‘So Many Ways’, some of the holiest pop of this year, James truly gasping at us, at last.

Now their debut LP ‘Stutter’ gets word-drunk and the fetching, bespectacled Tim Booth is telling me that his song about earwigs crawling through your head, ‘Skullduggery’, comes from his kindergarten memory of “being told that earwigs crawl through your ear if you lie down on grass. I only realised it was a fib the middle of last week”.

There are many such rum moments to be found on ‘Stutter’, at its best a copulation between Syd Barrett’s ‘Baby Lemonade’, the Velvets’ ‘The Murder Mystery’ and some of The Laughing Clowns. Oh, bugger it, James don’t sound much like anyone anymore, snubbing a nose at foolhardy Smiths analogies, saving up their spittle for the mirth and madness that spills from their vinyl pores.

“What are we like now?” muses the bearded Gavan, after just admitting he’s the most likely member of James to plot a murder. “Frightening, uplifting, scared at the world and its surroundings, not so much complaining as reflecting”.

“People have picked up on that madness, but then go on to treat it like Half Man Half Biscuit or something; otherwise, some really neurotic noise. It might be schizoid but we see it as something joyous… accepting all the mad energies.”

With Tim looking on dubiously, Gavan tells me, “It’s like there’s a fifth thing going on, like a fifth member directing everything.”

Whatever goes, they’ve hurdled far since those old death wishes, now emerging as Manchester’s best sandblasted racket. With ‘Stutter’ beside them and their future no longer behind them, they shape up as a prime slice of high fiction.

“You can almost imagine this character, James, wandering around outside there,” Tim suggests. “He’s probably dark and light and funny as hell…”

Probably one of those tourists of the emotions, pecking here and there, a contrary sod, miles and miles of celibate lust. James are dragging some welcome jive-ass jabber back into view, their scribbles packed with doubletalk.

Their potential, so to speak, is far behind them. Four plain James, losing the gravel pit for the sweat pit, singing “trying to impress is the nature of our work”.

These four grinning skulls write about lads called Johnny Yen who run down the street with their clothes on fire. They sensitively note that “to be loving when the lights are out takes much courage” in the sobbing ‘Really Hard’.

All in all, they tell me that “without getting too involved, the meanings come out all displaced, but the characters in the songs somehow emerge as real, maybe slightly surreal”.

So ‘Stutter’ reels with much erratic brilliance, a grainy soundtrack to fickle moods and shifting perspectives. Their hurried jangle is inhabited by characters halfway between a lovelorn swoon and a nervous fit. The greatest plus is that their music no longer has any centre, it merely flurries from some strange, unknown corner.

James are looking at me, almost scolding.

“People get so psychological about us,” Tim tells me. “People don’t really know where to put us. Those that call us ‘hippy’ get contradicted and confused when they see all these other sides.”

“What we do,” Gavan intercepts, “is push and shove and look at things with a different perspective. Like being a kid, when you go out to the park and look at nature differently, it fascinates you. As you grow older, you look at a tree and it’s just a tree.”

You must be barmy.

“James don’t take those things for granted, that’s all.”

Local indie pop band James return to the fray on record and live – they appear at The Green Room on August 9 and 10, CRAIG FERGUSON (words) and IAN TILTON (photo) meet the foursome.

One moment you’re there, ‘flavour of the month’ taking the slaps on the back, and the next moment you’ve disappeared; a vanishing act, voluntary or otherwise. This, of course, is the very nature of the crazy world of popular music, God bless it. Ups and Downs, Booms and Slumps – it’s very much a cut-price cut-throat market. Suffice to say, nothing’s guaranteed, certainly not success, nor it seems mere activity.

Take James, one of the better bands to emerge from Manchester over the past five years. Having built up a reputation as a superb live band, and with two fine singles on Factory to their credit, James were bound for a major label. They signed to Sire (American-based and part of the WEA empire) providing them with the debut LP Stutter back in the summer of ’86.

For my money, it was a disappointing record While it featured familiar songs of considerable quality, it neither committed the live James sound to vinyl, nor established a parallel studio sound worthy of those songs. But this all seems by the by – the group have been firmly stuck in a frustrating lull since the L.P.

As Gavan puts it. “Last summer? You’re going back a bit there mate!”

A year is a long time – they must have been doing something.

“We played in Europe, worked on lots of new songs and went into the studio, eventually” The tone of Tim’s voice says it all; they could have done so much more. It becomes immediately obvious where the blame lies. James are not happy with the treatment they’ve received from their record company and they make no bones about it.

“It was a mistake not going on tour after the LP came out,” says Tim.

It certainly doesn’t make good business sense to publicise the product before it’s available rather than after. Add to that the lack of funds for advertising in the press, and their more recent awkward stance with regard to the new LP and you can see that this particular band-label relationship isn’t all that it should be. It almost reached the divorce court before Sire relented and gave the band the money they needed for recording.

Tim goes as far to say: “In the last year we’ve had a hell of a lot of business problems – it’s an area none of us want to be bothered with, but we’ve had it forced on us.”

At the risk of labouring the point, the past year has not been a very happy one for James – “the only thing that has kept up going is the music.”

At the mention of music, the room becomes charged with extreme enthusiasm. They’ve just had a month’s break and their thirst for a return to playing is overwhelming:

“You start rehearsing again and sooner or later this thing starts, circling in the middle of the room, and the song starts playing you.”

When Gavan says this, it sounds weird but you know what he means. They all nod in agreement and the passionate feeling is unanimous. Live, James rarely fail to excite, but as everyone knows, getting that excitement onto vinyl is another matter. The first L.P. didn’t work in that respect -“it wasn’t put together very well,” says Jim – and we agree that live sound and recorded sound have to be regarded as two separate ‘mediums’.

Larry: “Hugh Jones who produced the new L.P really slagged us off about Stutter: He said we’d lost so much between the last Factory single and the L.P.”

Gavin: “The sound quality mainly. And I think we were a little more professional about it, working to the principle that ‘less is more’ – there’s more space and thought.”

I take that to mean that they’ve held back at times where usually they’d give it the full James treatment. Gavan doesn’t hold back “It’s a classic! I wouldn’t have bought the first L.P. -I’d have taped it off a mate -I’d definitely buy this one though.” Given that so much was expected of the first L.P., are they not a little apprehensive about this one?

“We’ve had quite a cynical approach towards it, but it’s a much better record,” say! Tim positively.

Sire predictably don’t think James are commercial enough – do they feel any pressure to sound more commercial? “It’s inward pressure as much as anything because we want a bigger audience. We want success -you can only be an impoverished artist for two or three years and no longer; earning a reascnable living is as important as gaining acceptance in the sphere that you’re working in.”

There’s no doubt that the new L.P – untitled as yet but out hopefully in September (Sire permitting) -represents a crossroads on the James road of progress. If it sells they’re laughing, if not, it’s bye bye to Sire. ‘Ya Ho’, the single out in September, may be a good indicator. Whatever happens, the band describe their new work as “wild in variation” with some “truly brilliant moments”. After years on the scene, James are still looked upon as an oddity – something they are positively pleased about. It’s not the personuel who are odd but possibly their approach -they shy away from convention, be it the song or the method. The identity they were given a couple of years ago – folk-singing vegans -is less true than it ever was, just the usual case of picking out extremes. Unfortunately, people have a habit of reading, believing and remembering. “The Bodines thought we all lived together in a big house in the country!” Jim laughs. Happily, James are set to re-emerge from the darkness of a long, quiet year. They’re dying to do what they do best -what’s so odd about that?

James break a silence of almost a year with a new single and live dates at Fury Murry’s Glasgow (August 16), The Venue (17) and two nights at the Green Room, Manchester (9 and 10)

Singer Timothy Booth is describing what life should be like.

“When you think of a dog or a young child, the way they look around when they come into a room. Or a dog going on a walk, smelling something completely new to it. The next day, it’s a whole different thing and the dog has a look of pure joy as it looks around, experiencing all the sensations as they are. Or a child looking at a plant, wanting to touch it or eat it. It’s also living in the present. I’m not making an argument that this is how we should behave all the time because we’d never get out of one room. You’d look over at one corner, turn your back, look over again and it would be a new corner.

“One reason I think people are ill and unhappy in society is because most people are well out of touch with the childlike quality and we all need some of that. Some people look to drugs to get it. You can get it after a lot of sex, when you get that rush of vitality. You get it from concentration. We get it from performing our music. It happens whenever your concentration becomes heightened.

“I’ve had months when life has been really mundane and then something happens and you get that special buzz and want to hold on to it. You wonder why the rest of life isn’t like that, at that level of intensity, at that level of living.”

Are James particularly special?

“Oh yeah!”

Showing up all these contradictory components, incompatible things, a kind of intimate association of opposites. Are James like litmus paper?

“Litmus paper?”

No, not litmus paper, the other thing.

“Oh, the acid test. Yeah, we’re like the acid test.”

It is almost 18 months since James took a tumble with us on the nuptial couch, since “Stutter” found 11 new ways of taunting itself with its own doodles and fear of heights. Now this starving man is back. Drummer Gavan Whelan has been working in a hotel and bassist James Glennie has been flogging second-hand cars. Very James. Very commonplace, very matter-of-fact, very left-handed. The splurge of lopsided obsessions that made up the brilliantly shoddy “Stutter” ultimately failed to persuade a sunken nation like ours to throw its ballet skirts to the wind and bare its thighs and backsides. Indeed, “Stutter”, even considering the way it rushed over the style, failed to provoke so much as a neatly-dressed ankle. Me and James are mystified by this. In fact, if it happens this time around, we’re going to whip some asses sharpish.

“When we finished that first LP,” Larry recalls, “it was the culmination of so many years worth of work focussed in a six-week period, incredibly intense. At the end of it, we thought we’d created a monster and a masterpiece. It came out and we just didn’t touch people with it. You just lose your perspective when things like that happen.”

If slivers of “Stutter” might have proved too far gone for British pop-pickers used to having their meanings written in scarlet tartan, there could be no excuse for overlooking “So Many Ways”, the group’s “Eight Miles High”, three rippling minutes that defied you to keep your knees or your head together. As a single, it was beautifully dressed and powdered and all you killjoys out there in the real world turned your backs.

Together with the rest of “Stutter”, it seemed that this group had abandoned their uncertain, prudent beginnings for something daft and dark, something that was just three gulps short of a minor masterpiece.

James were showing that they needed to be lived with to be understood, that they were too complex and enraptured to settle for a quick roll on the grass-verge behind the youth club. They were obsessional and terribly droll in a way that most pop music is too pious to be. They made you itch in ways that had little to do with your winter woollies or your last hernia, bringing you to a point where you never knew whether to scream or cackle. To most people, though, they were still like oddball deviants caught in the revolving-doors and none of this mattered a hoot.

“Pop is deviant itself”, Tim Booth reminds me. “If David Lynch can have a hit film with ‘Blue Velvet’…well, we’re much less deviant than he is. I think Lynch is too dark. James is full of dark but also full of light.”

Too many wicked curves?

“We like to offset music and lyrics to some degree,” says Larry. “Loads of contradictions because there’s loads of contradictions between four people. A song like ‘Fairground’ is built completely on a contradiction. We were in this terrible black hole of a rehearsal-studio having a huge argument, me and Gavan on one side, Tim and Jim on the other, both sides playing something entirely different, stuck in these separate camps, no unity whatsoever. These two disjointed things were playing along at the same time and we accidentally recorded it. When we listened back, it was brilliant, like galloping horses at a fairground. Where you’ve got this circular motion contradicted by this up and down motion. They go in opposite ways but somehow blend.”

Are you consciously trying to please? Is this why you are making such a din?

“We try to do that, we think, jut by concentrating on exactly what we are doing. Not that we all know our individual parts blindfold. It’s that anticipation of what’s coming next. If that gets picked up by an audience, then there’s a certain thrill of going into unchartered territory that heightens their concentration and their awareness of what’s going on.”

You’ve got to lose yourself. You have to expect your ration of convulsions, palpitations, fainting fits, anxiety attacks and brain fever.

“You’ve got to be right there, right then,” Jim nods, “The kind of losing yourself in a way that you’re not really there to some degree. It’s the build up to things. The best thing about having a present is the moment before you open it. That’s the thrill, knowing you are going to open it.”

There was a hungry look in your eyes when you said that.

“He didn’t get any presents for his birthday and he won’t forget it,” says Larry. “Some group we’re in! I didn’t get one bleeding present either.”

“Ya Ho”, a new James single, presents them to the nation, visibly stimulated in new ways, a song about rescuing people on beaches, about whirlpools, fear of failure and rubbing movements. Dry James, pea-shooting James. This is far from the glazed gusts of “So Many Ways” or the campfire dragnet of “Why So Close”; calm James. Persist with it though. After the bits that go plink and fizz, there’s a marvy (marvellous) bit three-quarters of the way through that manifests itself in ways that are almost indecently flirtatious. Like other new James peaks, particularly the possible follow-up single “What For”, it brings us scarlet mouths, dagger-like peaks, waving arms and a golden clitoris that, believe me, is a pleasure to tango with.

Already “Ya Ho” is meeting some rum reactions, adopted as a terrace anthem in parts of Leeds after a recent James show there, replacing the cry of “Come back Duncan, come back” that has wafted through those cobbled streets for the last 10 years, an obscure reference to Duncan “Golf Ball” Mackenzie, Leeds United’s former post-Revie golden boy. I suspect that this is coy James sticking their tongues out at us as only they know how.

“Actually, it’s a cry of despair”, James Glennie informs me. “It’s ungainly James, experienced and dying to tell a story. It reminds us of the time we left Factory, when Tony Wilson compared us to the Dutch football team of 1974, the Cruyff era, when it didn’t seem like it was trying, because it was all

so natural. Of course, when they started thinking about it, when the next World Cup came around, they were complete crap.”

People still think of you as fey, frightened outsiders. Cissies. Apologetic rather than apoplectic. When are we going to convince people that you have real, six-foot ulcers hidden under those coats.

“A lot of it came about from us being on Factory to start with,” Jim explains, “which affected how people viewed us. There was also the rare, secluded image of James because we didn’t do interviews and didn’t do a lot of live work. We were seen to be withdrawing from the public eye and people thought it was our decision. It built up a kind of mystique but it made us special in a way.”

These days, James seem more lucid, looking none the worse for wear after their prolonged hallucinatory, delirious phase. The phantoms of the troubled “Stutter” appear to be fully exorcised. All those earwigs crawling through lug-‘oles, small twisted figures disappearing into black smelly tunnels, people spontaneously combusting… the obsessions of that first torrid collection of waking nightmares seems purged now, replaced with another copulative beat and another set of clinging compulsions, more inclined to fondle you this time round. Endearing?

“Well, we feel are obsessions are what obsess other people,” reasons Gavan. “This time, we seem to be telling people more about our obsessions instead of just hiding within them. Maybe there’s more sense of distance in that way now. In previous songs, our lyrics have been clear but our meanings haven’t. Our meanings have tended to be perverse. Musically too, we’ve tended to shy away from stating the obvious, not going to the root of things. Now, the lyrics have gone to the root the same way as we’ve kept to the root of the song as musicians. It’s taking it one step further.”

Making for a better James?

“Locating our perversities and making them work for us. Before, we’d get to be so obsessive trying to predict what was going to happen that we’d make what we didn’t want to happen…”

Brain tissue everywhere. Lovely stuff.

You ask the four James rouges what all this nervous shifting really amounts to and you get some words back to poison your brain with.

“Insular? Personal? Tricky? Argumentative. Asking for trouble. Obsessional, of course. Brittle. Awkward. Out of context. Different. Playful. Tony Currie. Socks that don’t match the shoes, very James. A call to arms. Clear. Dense. Overturning one thing and finding another thing beneath it. Not meticulous. Perfectionists. Making things better. Intrigued. Broke. The desirability of men and women foxtrotting together while naked. Acrobatic. No longer so nightmarish. Embezzlement.”

from the Sire Records “Just Say Yes” sampler

You’ll want to call them Jim after getting familiar with their engaging brand of music, but resist the temptation. The name of the group is James; four Manchester-sired men with a lot of music between them.

Five years to be exact, which is how long they’ve been nurturing a mutually creative relationship, playing the local circuit and recording their highly-praised, high-stakes brand of modern pop. James, in fact, has been the good word on the British music scene ever since they released their first singles on the powerhouse Factory Records label not so very long ago.

Snapped up by Sire’s tireless talent scouts, James took to the road, opening for the likes of New Order and The Smiths and all the while honing their already razor-edged songwriting skills. Aural adventurers stateside got their first taste of James on the staggering Stutter, a fresh slice of unadultered innovation, featuring the captivating single “Chain Mail”. Both are produced by Lenny (Suzanne Vega) Kaye.

You can call them Jim or you can call them James. Just remember, music this good deserves respect.

“Ya Ho” from the Sire album IF THINGS WERE PERFECT … Available on LP and Cassette (1/4-25657)

Setlist

Details

• Venue: BBC Maida Vale Studios, London, UK
• Date: 9th September 1987

Songs

• Stowaway (aka Reggae Cowboy)
• What For
• Whoops
• Ya Ho

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Audio

Setlist

Details

• Venue: BBC Oxford Road Studios, Manchester, UK
• Date: 28th September 1987

Songs

• Doubts
• Medieval
• Meltdown Jingle

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Phil Korbel : It’s James and Phil

Jim : Phil and James

PK : The band have now crawled out of the studio. Torn themselves away from the John Peel session, their own John Peel session that they were listening to in the gramophone library and come to talk to me. And now they’re complaining they’re not being paid. OK, now recently you’ve been described as being a band in the wilderness. We’ve heard nothing from you on vinyl for ages. What’s wrong?

Jim : Ermmm

PK : The corporate voice of James

Tim : We’re still in the wilderness. We’ve got an LP and other stuff coming out in about February. It was meant to come out now, it’s not going to. It’s being remixed. Maybe. Just in case someone’s listening. It’s coming out in February and we’ve just had a year of business problems.

PK : Business problems?

Tim : They’re over now

PK : And a change of management I gather

Tim : Yeah, we didn’t have a manager for a long time.

Jim : So that was quite a change really because we’ve got one

Tim : Well, we got one and then we sacked him so now we’ve got another one

PK : A real one

Tim : A real one

Jim : We didn’t sack him

Tim : We took him back to the shop as he was still under guarantee.

PK : Are we at liberty to divulge your new manager’s identity?

Jim : Mr X, come on down

Tim : Eliot Rashman who also manages what they called

All : Simply blue, red head

PK : Are we now going to have the same Simply Red treatment on James

Tim : Oh yes

Jim : You haven’t heard the new album

Tim : You haven’t heard the backing female singers and the orchestra

PK : You’re not joking are you?

Jim : No, not at all

Tim : We had a Tibetan, a Tibetan orchestra for the backing tapes and stuff like that. We’re going to tour with them as well in February.

PK : The Tibetan backing orchestra?

Tim : Yeah, gongs and horns and all sorts of things

PK : Ah yeah, a real small scale tour

Tim : And skulls of dead llamas

PK : You spent ages in a Welsh cottage recording this album and you’re still not happy with it. One, why did you go away to record the album?

Gavan : I don’t think Wales is really going away. It’s only like half a day away isn’t it really?

PK : Come on, come on. Be serious now

Gavan : Where do you want us to record it? There’s nowhere in Manchester really.

Jim : Well, now we’re megastars we thought we’d move up and hire somewhere like the Bahamas or Wales. Guess which we picked.

PK : Yeah, well, quite.

Tim : Whatever

PK : Now you’ve got this reputation of being good, clean-living young men. You know, Buddhist, teetotal, the strongest drug you’ll take is a cup of tea. Is this still true or have you fallen away?

Tim : No, we don’t drink tea.

Jim : Very high in tannin, very high in tannin. Makes your teeth go brown

PK : I see, right, OK. So you’re still good clean-living boys

All : We never were. No, no.

Tim : It’s all a myth

Jim : We’re sponsored by Guinness now

PK : I see, so it’s going to be the Guinness tour now? I like the idea of that. Now, we’ve heard the rendition, the only kind of recorded output of James that we’ve had recently are the jingles that three of the band did that Tim hasn’t heard. Tim, the singist, for reasons best known to himself didn’t want to come in

Tim : You’ll find out why when you hear the bloody jingle.

PK : Well he hasn’t actually heard this one

Jim : He’s a lightweight

PK : Just listen to this

Jim : You’re sacked

(plays piano-heavy Meltdown jingle with Jim’s deep “scary” voice)

Gavan : That’s it lads, I’m leaving

Jim : Nothing to do with me

PK : As you can see, now the denials come out

Tim : They only agreed to do it because you said it would remain anonymous.

PK : Oh rubbish

Tim : Sounds like a mad vicar

Jim : Meltdown. That’ll do

PK : That’ll do

Jim : Nearest to a compliment we’re going to get this evening

Tim : We’re going into adverts because we reckon there’s some money in it and we haven’t seen any anywhere else so we’re going into adverts

PK : Adverts for Jameson Whiskey first?

Tim : Yes, Jameson Whiskey

Jim : You talked us into that one

PK : Right, let’s talk about the new album. You’re dissatisfied with it, but the little of it I’ve heard so far appears to indicate a new direction, a beefier sound maybe.

Tim : Beefier? Come on, we’re healthy

PK : Sorry sorry

Tim : More Marmite.

PK : More soya like

Jim : No, no, we want a new image

Tim : Yeah, beefier, that’s fine

Gavan : It’s not beefier enough, that’s the problem

Tim : More beefy

Gavan : I’ve been ordered to come closer to the mic. It is not beefier enough.

PK : Thank you. That’s very kind of you Gavan. Gavan the drummer acting like a drummer.

Jim : Ooh cutting

PK : Tim, the rest of you, Tim, Jim, Gavan. The new album, if people were going to take the last album as a starting point, in which ways is this album different?

Tim : It’s the second one. It’s the one after the last album. I think that’s the first thing that’s really important to get across.

Jim : The second one’s a lot better

Tim : It’s much different from the first one as well

PK : In what ways?

Tim : It’s got different songs on it

PK : Yeah, right, I see, fine

Jim : It is much better though

Tim : My Mum says she thought that second track was really good.

PK : The second track, now is your Mum.

Jim : There’s only you on it

Tim : That’s why she likes it

(Jim and Tim have pretend argument)

PK : Now you’ve got this image of being very very serious people. Excuse me

Jim : You won’t laugh when he hits you

Tim : Perv

PK : Now this lot did actually say that they were going to behave when they came in, but it seems as if the occasion has overcome them and we might not get anything more sensible out of them. Are we going to?

Tim : Yes, you will

PK : Are you sure?

Gavan : The album is a bit more thought out. That’s why it’s different

Jim : Well said, round of applause

PK : Now the other thing, we’ve got some sense out of them, thank you. Next

Tim : It’s going to be much wilder. The songs are more complete. It’s like on the first LP some of the songs sound like they weren’t quite sketched out fully and the new one, we’ve taken them more to extremes, so a potential rock song becomes a rock song and a potential classical song becomes totally classical with the London Philharmonic joining in. And we’ve just taken things more to the extremes

PK : More extreme, so does that account for the fact that last time you played Manchester you had two sets, you had an acoustic set and then, for want of a better word, a rock set? A full band set anyhow

Gavan : No. We just felt because it had been quite a long time since we last did a gig in Manchester that we just wanted to make it a bit special.

Tim : And Gavan our drummer is a frustrated pianist so it gave him the opportunity to let his fingers out for a walk.

PK : So it was just a bit of fun

Tim : Yeah

PK : Also, it has been suggested that you are now ruing the day you left Factory. You are regretting the day you left Factory.

Gavan : I think we left Factory a bit early

PK : Before you were ready.

Jim : Yeah, we should have gone after dinner

PK : There I was thinking we were having a serious conversation

Jim : It’s true, it’s true

PK : Too early, are you ready now?

Tim : Are we ready?

Gavan : There’s no choice

Jim : We’ve got to be. There’s no point in going backwards. But I think we did leave a bit early

Tim : What do you mean by ready? I mean, what happened was we went on a major record company and they couldn’t see any of our music being potentially commercial so they didn’t put anything behind it. It’s really when they decide that we’re commercially potential, whatever that means. And so God knows whether in their eyes we are or not yet. I doubt it.

PK : Shall we cross fingers. Well anyhow, now a track from that album, the pre-remix version of a track called Charlie Dance and after that we go back to James live. Thank you very much gentlemen.

(plays Charlie Dance)

PK : A track from their forthcoming album, Charlie Dance. And before we go back to Tim and Gavan who will be doing a live song for us in a second, Jim is going to give a little competition for a pair of tickets to their concert at the International 2 on Thursday. Question please, Jim

Jim : Thanks very much Philip. And the question is : Is Ed Bonicki innocent? Answer, yes or no

Tim : Who?

PK : Daley Thompson

Jim : Oh no

PK : Thompson Daley.

Jim : If Thompson’s Daley, is Ed Bonicki innocent?

PK : Answers not on postcard, ring us now on 061-xxx-xxxx to go and see James at the International 2. Now we go over with a flick of switch to Tim and Gavan.

FOLKLORE

1983 : alors que la vague gothique donnait une nouvel uniforme éphémère au rock anglais, James osaient sortir un premier titre « Folklore », quitte à passer pour les idiots du village.

Toujours aussi emmerdeurs et déroutants, ils se font rares et précieux depuis : une discographie intrigante et des concerts déroutants les ont hissés sur un piédestal solide et définitif, voisin de celui des Smiths.

La liqueur du rock.

Vous semblez tous les quatre particulièrement liés les uns aux autres;

Après un bon concert, oui( rires );Nous avons joué un très mauvais concert il y a quelques jours, c’était la misère qui nous liait toute la soirée. Nous sommes très différents les uns des autres, nous discutons beaucoup, nous avons connu beaucoup de choses ensemble en cinq ans. Chacun d’entre nous est passé par des périodes étranges, c’était très délicat à négocier.

Vous ne souhaitez pas parler de ces périodes ?

Pendant quelques années, trois d’entre nous avions pour habitude de méditer énormément, et quand je dis énormément, c’est vraiment énormément. Nous le faisions hors du groupe, parfois pendant des périodes de plusieurs jours, des heures d’affilée. D’autres se sont intéressés aux arts martiaux, ce genre de choses.

J’allais justement dire que lorsque je vous ai vus la première fois sur scène, vous m’avez fait penser à une espèce de secte;

Non, ce n’est pas ça. Nous avons pratiqué la méditation pendant quelques années mais nous avons arrêté il y a un peu plus d’un an maintenant, parce que le groupe avec lequel nous le faisions s’est dissous. C’était intense, beaucoup trop, un travail trop dur, trop éprouvant. C’était trop organisé et rigide, maintenant nous ne faisons que ce que nous voulons faire, nous choisissons. Nous restions assis à méditer, deux heures par jours, parfois dix heures le week-end ou même des journées entières de dix-huit heures. C’était très exigeant. J’en suis assez fier, mais cela peut aussi vous rendre très arrogant;ou même vous détruire, car vous restez là, assis pendant des heures, alors qu’on a qu’une envie, c’est de sortir courir;

Maintenant que vous avez arrêté, cela ne vous manque pas trop ?

J’ai recommencé récemment, mais je le fais lorsque je le veux alors qu’avant, la discipline de ce groupe était trop dure. C’était trop extrême. En tournée, cela pouvait donner des situations étranges, les uns méditaient pendant que les autres buvaient leur café, deux camps séparés. Mais lorsqu’on est un groupe, il faut faire des sacrifices, on ne peut pas vivre que pour soi-même, il faut trouver un langage commun.

Venez-vous de familles très religieuses ?

Le groupe vient du milieu prolétaire de Manchester sauf moi ( Tim, le chanteur), je suis le snobinard de la bande ( rires);Je viens de la  classe moyenne du Yorkshire. Mon père était assez religieux, c’était une espèce de chrétien distrait, un chevalier-gentleman;Mais rien de positif, alors qu’avec la méditation on agissait, c’était du concret.

Comment vivez-vous à Manchester ? Etes-vous impliqués dans la scène musicale ?

Nous sommes à part. Mais je ne crois pas qu’ils existe véritablement une scène musicale à Manchester, la plupart des groupes sont à part. On fait son propre truc, on ne fait rien en commun, on ne partage pas. Il n’y a aucun sentiment de communauté à Manchester, ce n’est pas comme si tous les musiciens créatifs jouaient dans leur secteur avec un but commun. Ce sont juste beaucoup de gens qui habitent là, qui forment des groupes parce qu’ils s’ennuient. Certains d’entre eux deviennent plus connus et peuvent en vivre, c’est tout. Les groupes sont très différent les uns des autres, il existe de très bons groupes de jazz, et les Smiths, New Order, The Fall et Black;Simply Red;les deux extrêmes;Ten CC ( rires );

Morrissey, des Smiths, nous a dit qu’il a été très déçu par les groupes qu’il avait aidé, que James était le seul avec lequel il avait gardé de bonnes relations, malgré quelques problèmes;

(rires);L’un des problèmes a été que j’ai essayé de l’entraîner à méditer (rires);Je ne crois pas que ça pourrait bien marcher avec lui;L’autre problème a été qu’ils voulaient nous emmener sur une tournée américaine et nous avons annulé une semaine avant le départ, ce qui l’a déçu énormément car il nous avait beaucoup aidés, ils ont eu l’impression qu’on les laissait tomber. Mais à part ça, on s’entend toujours bien, il est venu nous voir lors de notre dernier concert à Londres.

Quel effet vous a fait la dissolution du groupe ?

Pas grand chose. Nous ne leur avons jamais ressemblé, musicalement, même si les gens nous mettaient dans le même sac. Il y a quelques points communs, ils sont végétariens, nous aussi;Mais c’est étrange car nous existions deux-trois ans avant eux et les gens ont dit qu’on leur ressemblait, ce qui était agaçant. Mais le contraire n’aurait pas été plus juste, ils n’ont rien pris chez nous, ils étaient vraiment indépendants. Il y avait aussi des similitudes quant à nos styles de vie, car nous ne menions pas la vie de la scène rock habituelle. A cause de ça, nous devions, dans nos interviews, ne pas trop dévoiler notre façon de vivre, pour qu’on ne nous rapproche pas trop d’eux. Je crois que je n’ai parlé de la méditation qu’une fois auparavant. Les gens ne nous auraient pas compris.

Vous aussi êtes végétariens;

Trois d’entre nous le sont. Nous le sommes devenus car cela faisait partie de la discipline méditative. Mais c’était plus que ça : pas d’alcools, pas de drogues.

Vous avez d ‘ailleurs joué pour des concerts anti-alcool;

Ce n’était pas vraiment ça, ce n’était pas vraiment anti-alcool. C’était une espèce de programme d’éducation qui insistait sur les dangers de l’alcoolisme sur des choses pratiques, ce n’était pas pour condamnes l’alcool. C’était juste pour renseigner à propos d’une drogue, car c’est une drogue à part entière. Mais bien sûr , ça a été perçu comme une campagne puritaine (rires);On a été étiqueté. C’était une amie qui organisait tout ça, on devait l’aider. Nous ne sommes pas contre la viande ou contre l’alcool, nous sommes pro-végétariens et pour la prévention de l ‘alcoolisme. Il ne s ‘agit pas d’être contre quelque chose, nous sommes positifs. Maintenant tout le monde boit de l’alcool dans le groupe, mais pas de manière extrême;Cela va sonner très péjoratif sur l’Ecosse : en tournée, nous sommes passés par certaines villes, comme Aberdeen, où le problème de l’alcoolisme est absolument terrible, aussi épouvantable que l’héroïne, sauf que c’est légal. Il est important de simplement souligner ces choses-là. En ce qui concerne le végétarisme, ce n’est pas un problème pour nous : chacun d’entre nous pourrait très bien re goûter à la viande un jour ou l’autre. C’est la presse qui en a fait une grosse affaire. Notre musique semble attirer la frange mode, avant-gardiste de la presse, qui aime Nick Cave et ce genre de choses, une musique plus radicale. Ce qu’ils ne peuvent pas supporter, c ‘est que nous n’ayons pas l’apparence « rock ». Ils n’aiment pas ça, mais alors pas du tout !!! Ca ne correspond pas à leur image. Nous avons eu des critiques où ils admettaient aimer, mais presque à contre-cœur, ils disaient « ils ont l’air de cons, ils ne se bourrent pas, ils ne mangent pas de viande, mais ils jouent de la bonne musique ». Voilà les réactions que nous avions, celles de gens à l’esprit étroit, bloqués dans leur propre image. Au début, on les faisait marcher, on était des emmerdeurs;Nous avons joué avec New Order, tout était sérieux et lugubre, nous ressentions le besoin de jouer des chansons folles et stupides, il fallait le faire, tellement l’environnement était misérable et gris. Il fallait se comporter de manière stupide. Nous le faisons moins maintenant, mais nous avons toujours tendance à réagir, nous avons beaucoup de chansons agaçantes, méchantes, agressives. D’autres soirs, lorsque le public semble sage et calme, le public des Smiths, on lui jouera des morceaux durs et rapides. On a tendance à choisir le contraire de ce qu’ils aimeraient entendre. Mais finalement, il aime toujours ça.

Connaissez-vous votre public ?

Il y a de tout. Il y a encore cette frange liée à Factory, le reste est un croisement de tout ce qui peut exister. Les gens qui ont le plus de difficultés pour venir à nos concerts sont ceux habillés de cuir noir, car ils n’aiment pas notre image. Certaines de nos chansons parlent de ça, du besoin des gens de porter un uniforme. Car c’est un problème, ils pourraient aussi bien être soldats;manque de sécurité, de confiance sans doute.

Vous avez sorti vos deux premiers 45t sur Factory. Comment êtes-vous arrivés sur le label ?

Ils sont venus nous voir à un concert et ont trouvé ça bien. « Voulez-vous faire un album avec nous ? » nous ont-ils demandés. « Non !!! » Et un peu plus tard »Voulez-vous faire un maxi avec nous ? » « Non !!! »(rires);et nous avons dit que nous voulions faire un single. Ils nous ont spécifié sur feuille tous les titres qu’ils voulaient que nous enregistrions, mais nous ne voulions pas enregistrer d’entrée nos meilleurs morceaux, nous avons donc choisi librement nos chansons les plus faibles. Ils ont d’abord été très embêtés, mais les morceaux sonnaient très bien en studio finalement;Ensuite, ils sont revenus à la charge avec leur album et leur maxi;et on a enregistré notre deuxième 45t !(rires);Nous ne voulions pas que nos chansons soient gâchées. Nous les chérissons, car nous y mettons beaucoup de nous-mêmes, trop, nous sommes trop sérieux quand il s’agit des chansons. Nous étions comme des mères possessives, nous ne voulions pas les laisser partir de chez nous, comme des mères qui veulent toujours prendre toutes les décision pour leurs enfants, ne pas les laisser grandir eux-mêmes.

Etes-vous toujours aussi sérieux avec vos rejetons maintenant ?

Ca va mieux, il le fallait. Les concerts, c’était la même chose. Ca ne pouvait pas être un simple concert, il fallait que ce soit à chaque fois une expérience unique. Nous pouvions rester des semaines à nous préparer mentalement pour un concert, c’était infernal. Je perdais toute notion de proportion des choses;Nous pensions être tellement spéciaux qu’il fallait faire de chaque concert un événement historique unique, nous improvisions beaucoup, maintenant encore.

Beaucoup estiment que vous êtes le groupe le plus « out of time », hors des courants, des modes, intemporels;On est incapable de discerner la moindre influence;

Au début, si nous pouvions, dans nos morceaux, sentir une quelconque influence, ou si quelqu’un du groupe sonnait comme quelqu’un d’autre, nous jetions immédiatement le morceau, même s’il était bon. Encore une fois, nous sommes maintenant devenus moins rigides, parce que tout le monde finalement est influencé. Et nous avons dû dans le passé jeter trop de bons morceaux sur lesquels personne, à part nous, n’aurait trouvé la moindre influence directe;Mais nous, nous pensions «  oh oui, ça sonne trop comme la quatrième mesure de tel morceau, sur un album live obscure de 1969 » (rires);En plus, depuis que je suis dans le groupe, nous n’avons pas fait une seule reprise, même pas en répétition. On n’y a même jamais pensé. De toute façon, nous avons tous les quatre des goûts musicaux totalement différents. Comme nous écrivons les chansons ensemble, personne n’a de contrôle sur le son final. C’est pour ça que nos chansons sont bizarres ; à cause des ingrédients que chacun de nous apporte au résultat final;

Est-ce que l’on serait étonné si vous nous disiez le genre de musique que vous écoutiez dans le passé;

Non, pas vraiment; Gavan, le batteur, adore Led Zeppelin, est-ce que vous êtes étonnés ?(rires);et il adore le jazz;Je ne sais pas trop pour Jimmy, il écoutait The Jam et The Fall quand nous avons commencé le groupe, il y a des années;J’aime Jimi Hendrix, Captain Beefheart, Television;

C’est étonnant de vous voir réunir des influences aussi diverses, vous qui avez tant d’unité, une personnalité si forte;

Merci. Comment voulez-vous répondre à ça (rires);nous nous respectons beaucoup entre nous, et nous puisons une grande partie de notre influence chez les autres membres du groupe. Il n’y a aucun groupe de nos jours chez qui nous pouvons trouver l’inspiration;juste quelques trucs;Nick Cave & The Birthday Party;nous étions tous très fan, à part Jimmy, c’était un sacré groupe (souffle admiratif);De façon individuelle, nous avons aimé quelques morceaux, des choses de Stump, par exemple, mais rien ne nous a tous marqués depuis Birthday Party. Nous écoutons surtout des choses de l’époque où les musiciens aimaient la musique et n’étaient pas là pour vendre. Tous ces groupes que nous avons cité ont commencé parce qu’ils adoraient la musique, par pour gagner des millions de dollars;Cet appât du gain domine toute l’industrie du disque;Je me souviens quand j’étais plus jeune, j’étais très amoureux de Patti Smith;c’est ma grande influence. Ses concerts étaient tellement; uniques;elle poussait les choses le plus loin possible, improvisait;J’ai peur pour son nouvel album. Pour moi, ce qu’elle a fait de mieux est le pirate sorti juste avant « Horses »;Tellement choquant;les musiciens jammaient pendant qu’elle hurlait sa poésie. Quand Lenny ( Kaye, ex-guitariste du Patti Smith Group, ndlr) est venu produire notre premier album, il nous a donné d’excellents pirates;Par exemple la première répétition de Lenny Kaye et Patti Smith, juste deux, en train de reprendre des trucs de Brecht, « Mack the Knife »;

Comment s’est passé l’enregistrement avec Lenny Kaye ? Votre premier album avait, à l’époque, beaucoup surpris;

C’est vrai que ce n’était pas du tout un album commercial; Nous étions très naïfs à propos de notre force de vente; Nous pensions « c’est de la pop, les gens aimeront ça » (rires); Nous avons été surpris; Nous n’avons eu aucun problèmes avec Lenny, mais nous lui en avons donné beaucoup. Nous étions très possessifs avec nos enfants, nos chansons, et nous ne voulions pas lui laisser faire quoi que ce soit;le pauvre; Nous avons bloqué ses initiatives. Mais nous l’adorons, nous nous téléphonons souvent, nous sommes restés très proches, nous nous revoyons à chaque fois qu’il vient en Grande-Bretagne ; Il est super, un homme adorable, très drôle, une des personnes le plus attachantes que nous ayons rencontré dans ce business;

Pourquoi ne pas l’avoir choisi pour le second album, alors ?

Non; Nous ne pouvions pas (silence); Il était temps de passer à autre chose de différent. Mais la fabrication du deuxième album ne s’est pas très bien passé. Nous avons dû tout remixer, ou presque;

Hugh Jones, que vous avez choisi pour cet album, n’est pas, à priori, un producteur très subtile, surtout pour un groupe comme vous;

Le problème était de savoir avec qui aller ! Nous ne savions pas qui choisir quand Hugh est venu nous voir à la fin du concert, et il a su nous impressionner. Il nous a vraiment beaucoup critiqué, nous a insulté; personne ne l’avait fait avant; nous avons alors décidé qu’il était notre homme (rires); « Ok, montre nous ce que tu sais faire, grosse tête » (rires); Il nous a montré, et ça n’a pas marché; il a vraiment bien enregistré les chansons, mais ne nous a pas du tout convaincu au mixage. Il avait entendu nos premiers singles sur Factory, et ça l’excitait beaucoup; il pensait que nous n’avions pas réussi, sur le premier album, à recapturer le feeling de nos premiers singles, et il a beaucoup travaillé pour essayer de retrouver ce son;c’est dommage qu’il ait échoué au mixage;

Ce nouvel album sera-t-il une suite naturelle à « Stutter » ?

Oui, une progression très naturelle;mais il y aura pas mal de surprises. Je pense qu’il sera plus accessible, avec quelques singles dessus. .. Il ne faut cependant pas croire que nous ayons dû faire des concessions; nous avons compris pourquoi « Stutter » prenait tant de temps à séduire; L’ordre des chansons par exemple, peut faire une différence énorme. Les deux premiers morceaux sur « Stutter » étaient les plus mal produits de l’album. Il en résultait que la mauvaise impression durait ensuite pendant tout le disque; Tu ne peux pas te rendre compte à quel point ce genre de chose peut affecter les ventes; Nous n’avons pour l’instant qu’un titre provisoire pour le nouveau; il devrait s’appeler « If things were perfect »;de vieux souvenirs ! Quant à savoir s’il sera une suite vraiment logique à « Stutter », je crois que ce serait vraiment difficile de donner un prolongement naturel à quelque chose d’aussi bizarre, non ?

C.WHATSHISNAME & JD BEAUVALLET (Les Inrockuptibles- n°10-February/March 88

Jim : I’m Jimmy. I play bass guitar

Gavan : Hello, I’m Gavan. I’m the drummer

Larry : Hello, I’m Larry and I play the guitar

Tim : Tim, I sing and write the lyrics

Gavan : The recording went fantastic, really well and I think we’ve probably made the best LP for four years that I’ve ever heard. It’s called Strip Mine. We recorded it about a year ago with Hugh Jones down in Wales.

Tim : We usually jam together as a band and try and work out basic tunes and a kind of general structure for the song. I’ll take a cassette home and then late at night into early morning, I’ll write the lyrics starting with whatever comes into my head. A lot of them I don’t have a clue what I’m going to write about, I just let the song be written the way it wants to be.

Everyone in the band has completely different influences, often contrasting.

Larry : I used to when I was 13 or 14 or something like that, I used to listen to Jimi Hendrix a lot. Before that I listened to a lot of Motown when I was younger around about 12. Then I really got into heavy rock music like that English group called The Groundhogs and other blues rock guitar players. And like everybody, I think as I grew older, my tastes widened and my spectrum of musical influence just got bigger and bigger and bigger.

Tim : We don’t like each other’s taste in music some of the time.

Gavan : Quite often

Tim : Quite often. What do you call an influence because we never try and emulate anyone. Full stop. And if we hear certain influences which we feel are too overt we just drop the song or we change it.

Gavan : There’s a lot of music in America that I like, especially ethnic’s the wrong word but each different area has it’s own music, it has it’s own idiom and we’re quite open to that, travelling round, we get inspired by that.

Jim : I suppose it’s just the music we listen to, isn’t it?

Tim : There aren’t any fillers on the LP. We made sure everything that went on we really worked on. We really got the most out of.

What For is about somebody trying to uplift themselves. In Manchester, there’s this big town centre and every evening before the sun goes down these birds, these starlings, start circling overhead, flying in almost hieroglyphic formations, a really spectacular site, really beautiful, especially in the middle of a dirty smelly city to see these beautiful formations and it’s really uplifting. And the song is kind of about this guy who’s really down, he’s trying not to think about his worries and newspapers and everything he reads, he looks up and sees this beautiful sight and thinks “What For, tell me, tell me what for”

Details

James performing What For on The Other Side Of Midnight in March 1988

The questions rattle around my head as the car lurches into second gear.

But James personal manager Martine and personable singer Tim Booth are oblivious to my thoughts and Tim favours an indepth discussion on UFOs and the CIA cover-up conspiracy.

As the 21:15 flight Manchester to Ibiza economy flight retracts its undercarriage, Tim glances out of the window.

“Look, there’s one now!”

The car journey ends at the International II, where free admission is acquired through a combination of bribery – a 12-inch copy of the new James single “What For” – and sympathy (a knee injury necessitates Tim’s use of a Dickens and Jones walking stick.)

Inside the garish grotto, Pere Ubu are yet to appear. Tim and Martine, now joined by James fresh-faced bassist Jim Glennie, are soon immersed in conversation with The Man From Del Monte’s maniacal singer Mike, and Edward Barton – both whom have recently supported James.

Edward, who prefers tweed to Mike’s Biggles chic, is a little upset that a recent Sounds interview questioned his sanity&ldots;.

“He called me mad. I’m not mad.”

The suggestion that mad might refer to eccentric is given short shrift.

“No, mad doesn’t mean eccentric,” he insists vehemently. “Eccentric is an upturned tea cup; mad is a tea cup teetering on the edge of a table.”

Edward is equally concerned that James might be misrepresented.

“Be careful,” he warns Tim, “they’ll label you and forget you.”

“They won’t call me mad,” says Tim gently to the agitated tweed wearer.

“No, they’ll call you a veggie loony, put you in a box&ldots; then forget you!”

In keeping with the veggie loony image, my arrival next morning at Tim and Martine’s flat – opposite an undistinguished door which leads into Factory Records – is greeted with a choice: decaffinated coffee and soya milk or medicinal Japanese tea. No sugar.

The pious celibate Buddhist stereotype is given further credence by Tim’s meticulous, almost obsessive shaving ritual. However, his addiction to Cheers (the soapy social documentary of life in a New York bar) shatters the illusion.

The choice of background music hardly enhances an aura of piety. Still, the Pogues “If I Should Fall From Grace With God” meets Jim’s approval, and that of Larry Gott, lead guitarist.

Drummer Gavan Whelan will be late. Of all the band members, his attitude most closely approximates the devil-may-care rock-n-roll rebel.

Despite associations with orange juice, James are not without their drinking songs.

“We’ve got some songs like that,” says Tim before slipping into song. “Wish I’d invested gold / Down go share prices / New York to Tokyo”

Larry: “We’ve done the drunken song live at Leeds Astoria”

“Christ!” Tim comes down to earth religiously.

“Went well,” says Jim

“Did it?” asks Tim incredulously

“There were a load of football fans in that night,” continues Larry. “We were on a stage that was about two foot high and they were spilling beer, throwing pots on stage and throwing tables in the air. And we played the drunken song and we all started falling about the stage with the drunken audience.”

Tim: “There were people on the stage from the first song and they wouldn’t go. The management thought : James, vegetarian band, lay off some bouncers. And it was a riot &ldots;.”

“People would come up and say, Autograph, give us an autograph, halfway through songs. And one guy came up and said, Sing a song for the working class then &ldots; sing a song for the working class! And he’s getting really irritated and his mate’s going, Yeah sing a song for the working class.”

“So at the end of the song I said, That song’s for you, it’s the best we can do. And he went kinda, Woarrr that was for us!”

Despite the carnage at Leeds, last October’s gig at London’s Astoria was spiritual and ten times better for you than a dose of Nicky Cruz or a series of Songs of Praise.

In white robes and adorned with a skull cap, Tim pervaded the auditorium with an aura of understanding and courted those that leapt onstage. This threaded with James sound – a crisp, traditional folk merged with various international styles and warped into a lush chart-compatible brew – had James leading the audience as the pied Piper led Hamelin’s sewer population.

“It varies, you see,” explains Tim. “Sometimes we stir it up because we’ve got a lot of aggressive songs which we’ll only play if we’re in that mood, where we go on from the beginning thinking f**k you.”

“We did that at WOMAD once.”

Jim: “It was a really sunny day, everybody was really laid back with the African music, the cheap falafels&ldots;..”

Tim: “So we started with all our unpleasant epics. They were the opening songs and people just couldn’t get a toehold.”

My misconceptions are now in splinters, an appropriate point from which to survey the past, present and future of James.

The upward spiral was swift: “What’s The World” and “If Things Were Perfect / Hymn From A Village” being released first as singles then together on a five-track EP by Factory, between october 1984 and July 1985.

A transfer to Sire (WEA’s American sister label) followed, bringing the ‘Chainmail EP’ and ‘So Many Ways’ 45s before the debut album, ‘Stutter’, in the Summer of ’86.

‘Stutter’ was a transition period for James, caught between the commercial demands of the record company and their own desire for complete control.

The result was a mish mash, a record with charm and erraticism, coated in a cheap lustre – a record to tape rather than buy. Then, nothing. Record companies operate on credit not acclaim and the band, as the record, were left on the shelf to gather dust.

Tim: -The record company didn’t want us to record so they didn’t give us any money. We tried to release something after the LP but they wouldn’t have it so we could do nothing. Then you try and tour and they say, Well, you haven’t had anything out for a while, wait.

“Then Martine resigned as our manager and you can’t get anything out of a record company without a manager. With a new manager (whose career spanned just four months) James got to work on a new album. ‘Strip Mine’ was finished in March 1987. Release was delayed until October and then halted altogether with the arrival of new manager, Eliot Rashman (of Simply Red fame).

Rashman felt that the album needed remixing and, after five months, got James (who also had misgivings about the production) and Sire to comply.

Sire’s decision to finance the remix coincided with the resignation of The Housemartins and The Smiths from the intelligent end of the pop market. An ideal opportunity for James to scoop the awards in ’88?

Tim: “I think that’s what they {the record company) think. Everyone wanted us to get a record out when The Smiths had broken up. We went the opposite way on that kind of idea.”

Their new single, ‘What For’, supports this claim, not that James have ever had to fear the Smiths copyists claims so wrongly attributed to them in the past (The Smiths actually covered them, recording the first James single on the cassette release of ‘I Started Something I Couldn’t Finish’).

With the subterfuge of The Housemartins’ ‘Happy Hour’, the tempo of The Cult’s ‘She Sells Sanctuary’, a lushness you’d expect of a band sharing the same label as Madonna and an advertising budget big enough to ensure blanket press coverage (surely a sign of Sire’s newfound confidence), it might seem surprising that the record has failed to gain the Radio 1 A-list grading so essential for chart success. It was practically constructed for Top Of The Pops.

Larry: “It was originally a Eurovision Song Contest Entry actually, a song for Europe.”

Tim: “I used to take the piss out of it and sing a real Eurovision chorus to it”

Larry: It went ‘Bonjour. .:”

“‘Bouncy bouncy bonjour!'” the band return unanimously.

Larry: “It changed a lot cos it was quite poppy and breezy and didn’t have a serious side to it, and then musically it got more serious.”

By its live airing in October, it had grown teeth, Tim singing “I will dive into Sellafield seas. Sick fish, myself and some strange debris”, but on vinyl the nuclear power plant reference disappeared.

Tim assures me that the absence of the leaky location was not due to record company censorship. I took it out because I didn’t want it to be that specific, so I sing ‘Foaming seas’, which refers to sea pollution more generally, not just nuclear . If you’re going to censor it you’d have to take out “will not think of torture or the rape of nature” which like ‘Misty Blue last year, is not A-list compatible.

THE LUSH quality and satirical lyricism of ‘What For’ is maintained throughout ‘Strip Mine’.

‘Vulture’ is the musical equivalent of the imagery of Terry Gilliam’s Brazil mixed with the blatant vulgarity of The Hitcher’s severed fingers in the pomme frittes.

“Yeah, I enjoyed that,” says Tim with relish. .’When you spy a fresh face / Remember the rich taste / You want a part in the cost of it all/ So you open your flicknife /And cut off a thick slice / Envy makes the flier fall'”

Then, before you can breathe in, Tim summons up Monty python’s exploding man.

“It was written before that,” says Tim defensively. “It must be about five years old, it was on the first Peel Session, but a different version. It’s all about greed and gluttony.”

If “Vulture’ provides enough colour for a good schlock movie, ‘Riders’ is the hospital horror incarnate -a nightmare at St Elsewhere.

“It was a dream,” says Tim quietly, a fairly exact description of a dream I had four years ago that turned my life around.

“Until then I’d been on a very self-destructive route and this dream showed me what I was doing and made me decide that I really didn’t ‘want that poison in’.

“I’d been in hospital very shortly before (with a chronic liver complaint) and I probably took from the experience. The woman in the song, the nurse, was Nurse Rachett from One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest and her assistant was Jed Clampett from The Beverley Hillbillies.

If ‘Riders’ took Tim off the motorway to self-destruction, it hardly diffused the potency of his songwriting

Each song has a purpose and prod. at the subconscious as it teases the eardrums. The most overt message is in ‘Charlie Dance’, which epitomises a country where a budget aimed to cripple the poor, is taken up by the media as a perfect package for the working class -.the mentality of Harry Enfield’s .Loadsamoney on the front page of a national newspaper.

“‘Charlie Dance’ is about a believer in official lines who accepts what the government says. It was written after Chernobyl so it was like ‘The cows don’t moo anymore/But “m sure they’re not dead/They don’t chew anymore but ‘.m sure they’re not dead'”.

“The one person in this country who drives me up the wall is Lord Marshall, head of the Nuclear Electro Generating Board. After Chernobyl he was saying there’s no danger from our machines. Anybody who’s ever owned a machine knows they break down. And he denies it and denies it. He should live on the site or swim on the sea if he thinks it’s that safe”.

This is the serious side of James, the side that finds the term Ministry Of Defence hypocritical.

Tim relates it to a Ben Elton sketch (the two were at college together): .A near mid air disaster. What do they mean near miss? More like near bloody hit.

“The Ministry Of Defence should be called the Ministry Of War.” It’s a high horse that all but Gavan are prepared to mount. What does Gavan want?

“Loads of money”

SO WHAT have we got?

Take the talking bit from Dr Dolittle (“I feel that it is very important in principle that one should avoid eating one’s friends”), yesterday’s tabloid headlines, Luxembourg’s Eurovision entries (circa 1985-1988), rhythms from Didsbury to the Congo Basin, the humour of Palin and Gilliam (and a dash of Cleese), add a pinch of Cheers and cook for 45 minutes on Sellafield radiation, mark four.

James James I, James T Kirk or James Anderton?

Not every band would have the nerve to open up their album with a cheery little ditty about someone being attacked by an earwig. Imagine how that goes over back in the corporate offices – “Psss – did you hear that new group we signed? Man, they’re weird”. No, not weird, James. Not as in Dean (though Morrissey is a big fan). As in four men with some very unusual, sometimes caustic, sometimes surreal and totally individual songs to parlay to a world that needs a little something different to shake things up a bit. Which the band did on their first album, STUTTER, a dollop of post-punk, post-modern strangeness thrown on top of an often uncomprehending music world. However, one doesn’t have to be an Einstein to recognise that this bunch from Manchester, where some of England’s most creative bands (The Fall, Joy Division, New Order, The Smiths) have taken root, is ready to join its predecessors ranks.

On the other side of the Atlantic, James’ unique folk-punk-pop intellectual cut-up-cabaret synthesis (whew!) caught the ear of rock critic, Patti Smith guitarist and Suzanne Vega producer Lenny Kaye. Kaye, who produced the group’s debut album STUTTER, knows a special sound when he hears one. As will you, after hearing “What For”, the special inclusion here from the singular James.

The recipient of this thoughtful self-imposed dictate is a cloudy-haired type with the charisma of Irene Handl (yes, that much) and, despite himself, the discreet charm of the bourgeoisie. Tim is certainly a Venusian. He has that flavour, and blinking yellow skin (caused by liver trouble) too. But we shall skip past this tastelessness.

“According to quantum physics, it’s more than possible, in fact it’s probable, we have other lives, probably hundreds of them.” He pauses for me and Jim to stop blushing. “In parallel universes, we’re all on the boarder off insanity. We could discover other existences if only we went over.”

He gives me a pen because I ask for one, and tells me to read a lot of Robert Anton Wilson (“the weirdest books I ever…”) and about equal amounts of Milan Kundera. And you can see, I took the medicine. Yum.

James used to be like a goat (? – eh, Ed) with a broken femur, an awkward oddity, but happy as Mary Popping, or Larry. They made this one record, “Hymn From A Village”, and this brought them the fame of a minute. They toured with The Smiths, who loved them. They had rousing reviews for their first LP, “Stutter”. But oh dear me, so funny, all vegetarians, weren’t they, or didn’t drink, or don’t take drugs, is it? The gents of the press could get no handle on it, and nor could the record company. James have taken two years to resurface with the brilliant tightrope album “Strip Mine”. They’re taking more care of business now. James are like a fully-formed, million-dollar robo-goat, nearly free of scape. I’m very afraid they want me to think them normal. Me, who could hardly go in the house because there was a magpie near it.

Tim: “So how many have you seen today?”

Two, then one, but that makes it really three.

“No, it has to be all at the same time. You cheated. Still, all you have to do is blow them a kiss or take your hat off to them, and that way.

“Martine and I were sitting in a park. A magpie landed about a hundred yards away, and we both went, ‘Uh oh’. Well, it turned and looked at us as if it heard what we said. Then it took off, staring at us, and flew towards us, about two feet off the ground. It landed and hopped around us, pecking at my shoelaces, then round the back of me and pecked at my bum. It stayed for ten minutes. An utterly beautiful-looking bird. Its eyes closed like camera shutters, kind of chunk chunk.”

Jim, Alias James, Alias The one that got the band undemocratically named after him, has a weeny baby girl – hence potential genius – called Gemma. He says, “I’ve been told 13’s a bad year.”

What happens then? Jim bites his lip. “Don’t know.”

Then there’s the nature of rarefied genius, which brushes scapulae with James too much. When Jim was 11, he had this best friend, and at 18 they started the band. “Paul had a real fire. He was our motivation”. Paul’s not in James now, for one or two reasons that cause heartache.

“I’ve never seen anyone change like he did. Oh God! He was the most outward-going, full of life person… But he died. Not really, and I don’t know if it was drugs. I really don’t know. But the Paul I knew was no longer. And I miss him, I really do. I miss him. And I still see the guy in the street, but it’s not him.”

Because Jim’s choked and the wall could get damaged, Tim ice-skates across the frozen pool.

“At one time Paul was quite catatonic. He didn’t talk, he used to stand in the room at rehearsals and not play his instrument. At one gig he turned his guitar upside-down and played it left-handed, or tried to. It was our big break, our first gig with The Smiths, 1,500 people. We’d played to maybe two or three hundred before. Our first big gig, and he decided he wanted to play the whole concert with his guitar upside-down. He shaved his head the same day, and went on stage but didn’t play. He just stood there, the whole gig, trying. Making these noises.”

Paul was a pie-in-the-sky, sweet dream baby. They repeat his words now, like dazed pupils. “He said our set list must change every night. That we must take a lot of risks. Originality – if you hear any other’s influence in your song, dump it. No advertising. Everything shared. Everything.”

Jim laughs like it might be hurting him too. “And we were gonna be huge. With no advertising, no interviews, no publicity.”

Other people make it hard for those dilly dreamers.

“Uh-huh. Sometimes, I could say things to people which would kill ‘em, would core ‘em.”

“Glamour. Hooh. Glamour, eh?”

“Glamour, Tim.”

Silence. “It’s not a particularly pleasant word.”

It’s just that you used to say, “seduction has to be wrong”, but this new LP, with its talk of skin and bone, glows differently.

Tim: “Glamour in music today is a money thing. It’s revolting – there’s bugger-all in it. To me, Patti Smith is glamorous, but it didn’t cost her a lot of money, it wasn’t linked with wealth. She was a romantic poet, the artist, trying to push life to an extreme, to extract some drop of meaning out of it.”

Tim was at boarding-school (this was then) when his mum rang and said, “Your dad’s in hospital. He may not make it through the night. I’ll ring you tomorrow. You mustn’t come home, by the way.” What a Ma. So he crept about in the dark dorm, found some headphones and listened to anything that happened to be there. Into his hot, sad shell, Patti Smith sang, “His father died and left him alone on a New England farm.”

Tim is a Rupert Brooke himself, a house on fire, a misplaced Joan of Art.

Tim says obstinately, “Everyone has their own meaning for every damn word you use. So how on earth do you have any communication?” Levitate us, Tim. “Martine keeps telling me that words are only seven per cent of the human being’s communication. The rest is through gestures, smell, tone of voice, smile, eyes. Statistics show this.”

Statistics, inter-ballistics.

“I talk it out, I should it out, I put myself in a position where I’m gonna have a fight. Violence is something that – oh God – I do not morally condemn. Sometimes it is very necessary. Having been a pacifist, I’m now getting into boxing. I enjoy seeing Tyson knock people out, the blood, the mats on the canvas to cover where it’s splattered. I’m surprised at my own reactions. I know you cannot grab an idea of how the world should be and impose it. I just let myself feel my animal side, sexually as well as in violence. I blocked what I couldn’t control before”.

And love will save the world?

No reply. What, love won’t save it?

“Save the world. That’s a slogan.” Tim suddenly finds a lot about his shoe interesting. “Save it from who, save it from what, save it for what? You know, maybe this is how it’s bloody well meant to be.”

Eh? The man with a thousand possibilities and twice as many probable lives has gone me in a trick bag.

“Maybe we’ll never attain the knowledge everybody’s lookin’ for. We just ain’t got the capacity up here (Jim taps noddle). Not even just for an understanding of what the bleedin’ hell’s goin’ on.”

Jim, Gavan, Larry, Tim. Going round in frivolous, important circles. Assault and battery. Mad hattery. Celebration.

Can you tell me what Mancunian popsters JAMES are currently up to? Also can you supply me with the address of their fan club?

Hupsprung Nick, Sutton Coldfleld, W. Midlands

The news is that James are about to fling themselves into non-stop activity in the hope of reaching the front pages of TheSun. A single, ‘Ya Ho’ is promised for mid-September, while an album, ‘Strip Mine’ will be released by Sire just a couple of weeks later.

Tourwise, I haven’t got full details yet but the Jimmies should be in Dublin and Belfast on October 8 and 9 respectively, while confirmed dates include Manchester Ritzy (11), Newcastle Riverside (12), Aberdeen Venue (14), Glasgow QMU (15), Dundee Fat Sam’s (16), Liverpool Poly (20), Sheffield University (21), Nottingham Trent Poly (22), Birmingham Irish Centre (25), Bristol Bier Keller (26) and London Astoria (27). But there are plenty of dates to be added. James don’t appear to own a fan club but messages to the band can be relayed via Karl Badger, Sire Records, WEA The Electric Lighting Station, 46 Kensington Court, London W8 5DP

JAMES

A band of four square men. Manchester-based.

Their music reflects their relationship with each other over a seven year period.

Two singles released on Factory Records, which, when combined, reached No. 1 on the Independent chart.

The last six years spent sharpening their songs, with the occasional tour as support to New Order and The Smiths.

Signed worldwide by Seymour Stein’s Sire label, with Blanco Y Negro in collaboration in the UK, for a modest advance on 11.11.84, in return for their independence in the material world.

The single “Chain Mail” was released in February 1986. The LP Stutter is released in August 1986. Both produced by Lenny (Suzanne Vega) Kaye.

A second album, Strip Mine, released 8.9.88. Produced by Hugh Jones. Features the cuts “What For”, “Medieval”, “Not There” and “Return”.

Looking forward to meeting your aquaintance.

JAMES, the Mancunian quartet whose debut album is in danger of going rusty in the can, play Warrington Legends October 9, Manchester Ritz 11, Newcastle Riverside 1 2, Aberdeen Venue 14, Glasgow Queen Margaret Union 1 5, Stirling University 16, Liverpool Polytechnic 20, Sheffield University 21, Nottingham Trent Polytechnic 22, Birmingham Irish Centre 25, Bristol Bierkeller 26, London Astoria 27.

JAMES, the Mancunian foursome return with a new single and a tour.

The 45 ‘Ya Ho’ is released by Blanco Y Negro/Sire on Monday and the band then head out on tour taking in Warrington Legends (October 5), Manchester Ritz (11), Newcastle Riverside (12), Aberdeen Venue (14), Glasgow OMU (15), Stirling University (16), Liverpool Poly (20), Sheffield University (21), Nottingham Trent Poly (22), Birmingham Irish Centre (25), Bristol Bierkeller (26) and London Astoria (27).

Details

James performing Ya Ho on The Other Side Of Midnight in September 1988

Take four slightly weird individuals, get them to write some ‘extraordinary’, ‘climatic’ songs, and you have James. Phew, says Johnny Dee.

There is no way you can tie a label around James. Maybe because of this, past interviews have centred around myth-making. The last time they appeared in rm they wore ‘ultra-bright’ knitwear in the photos, said they were inspired by the ‘Trumpton’ theme tune and there was talk of Buddhism and veganism. All of this was, of course, tongue in cheek – it just went a bit far.
When you look at a lot of bands you see a team – an identity. When you look at James you see four completely opposite looking people – four individuals, with different tastes and lives. Somehow they formed a group together – combining their four different ideas into one struggling whole. Most groups, finding themselves in this situation, would split up. For James, it is their key. They argue continuously, particularly Gavan (the drummer) who is quite ‘laddy’ and into ‘fast cars’, and lead singer Tim, who is quite a philosopher. It only stops when bassist Jim or guitarist Larry step in to mediate. Example:

Tim (tongue placed firmly in cheek): “Jesus lads, I can’t go on like this, it has to end!”

Gavan: “I think you’re hypersensitive.”

Tim: “I’m hypersensitive? God, what about you?”

Gavan: “If things were easy we wouldn’t be where we are.”

Jim: “There’d be a lot less pain and friction.”

Gavan: “Yeah, but that’s art isn’t it?”

Tim: “In the West maybe, but in the East it doesn’t have to be pain and strife.”

Gavan: “You’re joking, you’re joking!”

The argument continues. Rock ‘n’ roll mythology comes in for cross examination next:

Tim: “Rick Astley has got a mythology.”

Gavan: “But he’s a f***ing twat.”

Tim: “He uses jet set Campari mythology.”

Gavan: “He doesn’t.”

Tim: “He does.”

Gavan: “He doesn’t, he doesn’t!”

Tim: “His videos are like adverts for Tunisian holidays!”

James are about to release an album called ‘Strip Mine’, 10, extraordinary songs that travel lyrically from Tim’s head, past his nipples, naughty bits and down to his toes.

Tim: “I’m a human being – I’ve got all these parts on me, I carry them around and inspect them every now again and write about them.”

Live, James are the nearest you can get to spontaneous combustion. Often one member of the band will start a completely new, unheard song and the rest will join in. Other times, things just click, unbelievably, into place.

Larry: “Sometimes it becomes so easy. Everything sounds fantastic when it meshes together.”

Tim: “Live, sometimes it’s just ‘ah’, it’s just ‘there’.”

It all sounds very sexual.

Tim: “It is, it is!”

Jim: “Our songs are very climactic.”

Gavan: “It’s synthesised sex.”

Tim: “It’s really hard after three songs to keep it going.”

Jim: “You keep thinking, ‘we’re gonna lose it, we’re gonna lose it’… And then you’ve lost it.”

Tim: “It’s really awful if you come off stage and you’ve ‘come’ and everybody else goes ‘bloody awful gig’.”

James are totally enthusiastic about their music. They get excited even talking about it. What do they think other people get from James?

Gavan: “A buzz they can’t get elsewhere.”

Tim: “In the past we’ve been a bit shy selling ourselves. Now, we can say ‘it’s brilliant’.”

But is there a place for James in the giddy pop world?

Gavan: “Yeah. Number one – that’s our place.”

Ladies, gentlemen, and disillusioned vegans – I give you James – a weird recipe of fun and naughty bits. Take some home with you.

Le voir pour le croire. L’allure de garçons mystiques enrôlés par la foi, qui s’apprêtent à revêtir leur robe de bure pour tourner en rond avec leur méditation dans les couloirs rassurés d’un monastère. L’allure seulement, car sous leur apparence désuète, les quatre de James sont peut-être les doux illuminés les plus en marge de toute la scène anglaise, insensibles aux courants, ignorants des poses et aveugles des modes, je doute même qu’ils connaissent l ‘existence du terme. Ce n’est pas que le temps se soit arrêté pour eux, il  n’existe pas.

Il y a 50 ans, ils auraient porté les mêmes pompes, dans 50 ans ils se rachèteront les mêmes, si elles sont usées.

Rien d’étonnant : ils sont de Manchester, la ville où rien n’est surprenant. Bientôt, il n’y aura pas que chez eux qu’on admirera leur importance, leur pop intemporelle taillée au burin et leur sensibilité exacerbée, habitée par l’épilepsie et la loufoquerie : « Yaho », une ronde sautillante aux accents tyroliens pour attendre un deuxième album en début d’année, déjà un must.

Translation by Google Translate(!)

Seeing is believing. The pace of mystical boys enrolled in faith, who are preparing to take their frock to go round in circles with their meditation in the corridors of a monastery reassured. The only speed, because under their antiquated appearance, the four of James may be mild in most illuminated margin of all the English stage, insensitive to currents poses ignorant and blind modes, I doubt they even aware of the existence of the word. This is not that time has stopped for them it does not exist.

It was 50 years ago they would have worn the same pumps, in 50 years they will buy the same, if worn.

No wonder they are in Manchester, the city where nothing is surprising. Soon, there will not be home that we admire their importance, timeless pop cut and chisel their heightened sensitivity, inhabited by epilepsy and craziness “Yaho” a chugging round the Tyrolean accents to wait a second album earlier this year, already a must.

Details

Interview with Tim and Gavan from the Rockin’ In The UK programme in October 1988

City Life Interview October 1998

Martyr And The Vendettas!

James’ last performance at the Ritz has been mythologised as Manchester’s best gig of 1988. With a new album under their belt and another Ritz gig in the pipeline (October 11), James should be ecstatic, yet Mike West found Tim Booth poor, pensive but in the pink.

The interview is postponed. The singer has slashed himself with a shard of broken glass. Was this a suicide attempt or an accident in the kitchen? “I was washing up the stem glasses and… I guess I lost control,” says Tim Booth, arriving two hours later with five out of ten fingers bandaged. James, the pop group, Manchester’s most visionary project since G-mex, suffer for their art. They suffered for a well publicised abuse of drugs. They suffered for an over-public use of meditation. They suffered for vegetarianism and two successful independent singles. Finally, they suffered at the hands of big business, WEA Records. If you worship martyrs, Van Gogh, Jesus Christ and Jim Morrison, you will probably worship James.

“In 1984, my liver packed in. The band were ill, disorientated, using drugs, happy to burn out. I was a materialist, left-wing. I knew nothing about health and magic.” Tim, James’ esoteric lyricist and unlikely idol to legions of beer-boys from Leeds, has perfect bone structure and a carrot juice complexion. He is explaining how he came to write the nursery rhyme narratives that Yorkshire delinquents have taken to their hearts. “I read Arthurian legends, Beowolf and Rudyard Kipling’s Just So stories at too young an age.” The delicately featured boy grew up frightened, perverted, and obsessed by these fantasies of monsters rising from the sea. “Then I read this book on interpreting dreams.” Uniformed nurses administer him poisons. Alien parasites attack his jaw. Tim’s dreams have more adventure and less sex than Sigourney Weaver’s films. Aided by Jungian analysis, his dreams became metaphors. And reality became symbolic. And meditation became an obsession. And sex became infrequent.

Four years ago, Tim’s heath and James’ habits were turned around. Narcotic depressives became suspected Buddhists. “That’s when we began to see beyond the surface of things.” Stripmine, the current and long-delayed follow up to Stutter, documents this catharsis with depth, honesty and wonderful songs. “They are simple stories with an underlying resonance of meaning that not even I understand. I used to believe that my lyrics wrote themselves.” The stories have a happy end: the suffering artist’s liver complaint is cured with acupuncture and a regulated diet.

But does the suffering end? Of course not. While Tim discovered alternative medicine, other states of being, escapes from the material world, James found no escape from the materialists. Shortly after the success of ‘Hymn From A Village’, their second single on Factory Records, James were snatched from Tony Wilson’s collection of precious curiosities by a connoisseur with greater pretentions and more capital, Seymour Stein of Sire Records.

They say Seymour hoards artifacts and artists like a squirrel hoards nuts. He buries them in expensive holes – his New York apartment or his record company – leaves them there to own and forget. Stripmine was recorded two years ago, kept from the public by accountants and A&R departments, quibbling over production, presentation or budget. James were shelved, an ornament adding to Stein’s prestige but taking from the livelihoods of Tim, Larry, Gavan and Jim. “We had no record, so we had no gigs, so we had no money. We could not subsist.” Sire, WEA, choose to ignore that bands are made of people not porcelain. James made their compromises.

Once, they were obstinately human, their dress sense uncoordinated, their image as incoherent as four strangers waiting for a bus. Then, under the persuasion of Simply Red’s manager, megalomaniac Eliot Rashman, the four men began to experiment with clothes, make-up and method acting. They learned the basic skills taught to fourteen year old school girls and rock stars. “That was only for photographs… off camera, we fall apart.” Tim is defensive. The clutter of conflicting styles that is James’ music has also been cleared out, like their wardrobe, reorganised. The result is Rock music, a professional compromise between performer, producer and promoter.

But now the group are preparing legal letters severing their relations with Sire. They will emerge from the conflict as four friends, whose worst injuries have been self inflicted. “Although we’re very close, the pressure has caused fights…” admits Tim. And later that afternoon, in the small park opposite the Buddhists’ Eighth Day vegetarian café, a strong man with a weak chin is seen shouting at the man with a carrot juice complexion. A Christian rally sings psalms nearby, but Gavan Whelan’s expletives cut through. “Fuck Hugh Jones,” says the drummer and ardent meat eater, “John Paul Jones (Led Zepellin’s bassist) should be our producer.” Tim Booth turns from carrot to beetroot. “I hate Rock,” he says. “So why do you fucking play it?” asks Gavan. First year Polytechnic students bow their heads with embarrassment as they walk by.

Tim Booth believes all things are fated, preordained by magical powers, numerology and good cooking. “But in this culture, it doesn’t necessarily follow that talent gets rewarded.” James have their talent. They have yet to get their reward.

The last thing you’d expect to influence a Manchester band is the starlings in Piccadilly Square. Usually it’s the rain, or the industry or even the lager louts – but then James are no ordinary Manchester band. Into their melodic songs on their new album ‘Strip-mining’, they weave poetry and lyrics that linger rather than escaping into the nearest guitar twang ‘In the sky above the square starlings spiral dancing on all’. (What for?).

Explains vocalist and word fashioner Tim Booth… “It was the idea of this guy being really down, looking up and seeing the starlings swirling round and going ‘wow, that’s amazing’. It’s the best sight in Manchester – they can’t build anything to rival that in beauty.”

James have been around the Manchester scene for a number of years, and three years ago signed to Madonna’s label Sire. Their future looked rosy and still does, but to coincide with the release of the album, the band have parted company with the label, after waiting two years for its release, while Sire withheld backing as they thought the music was too ‘English’ and wouldn’t sell.

Guitarist Jim says: “We’re happy now. We wanted to get off the label two years ago because they wouldn’t let us do what we’re good at – playing live and recording. We’re not going a step backwards by any stretch of the imagination. This album will take us to the next step.” Trouble is, that James have got a reputation as a frantic live band – one of the best to see in the country, yet their album is very song based and tuneful – not what sells records in the age of pop pirates. Yet they wouldn’t budge… “No-one seems to realise that you just make the best album you can.”

Quite. It’s like asking Picasso to paint a bunch (???) of flowers… Tim “and then turning round to him and saying ‘well, those flowers would have been better painted blue instead of yellow. If you want them painted blue, then go paint your own! Recording an LP is a completely different medium and you’ve got to treat it differently. The music’s a bit more calm.”

Jim: “I like to think that we’re still doing the extremes, we’re just doing them better.”

Tim: “The aim is to have bigger extremes of franticness, but contrasted with the complete opposite with some really calm and beautiful things. When we start off with songs, they’re usually quite simple and then we play them a lot live and they just grow. All these songs are like little fledglings and then on tour, they’ll have to lean to fly…”

Jim: “We’ll put them out of the nest and see if they like it…”

And no doubt they’ll soar like the starlings in Piccadilly Square…

James play The Ritz on October 11.

Their album Strip-mining is now on release (Blanco Y Negro).

This is the band itinerary from the October 1988 tour.

Audio

Setlist

Details

• Venue: BBC Maida Vale Studios, London, UK
• Date: 20th October 1988

Songs

• Medieval
• Sit Down
• Stripmining

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The album, recorded over a year ago, was repeatedly delayed for remixing and various other reasons.

The Manchester band, who expect to name a new sticksman within the next couple of weeks, are also in the process of launching their own label after leaving Sire Records. The band have a live LP, recorded at Bath Moles Club last November, ready for release but are currently negotiating the rights to some of the songs with Sire.

James Live Album

For you, the doldrums are over. On March 20th, One Man Clapping Records, through Rough Trade, release One Man Clapping, JAMES first vinyl output since September 88 and an ill-fated liaison with Sire Records

The new album shows the band at their very best – totally live – recorded at a series of 3 special concerts at Bath Moles Club in October 1988. One Man Clapping features the “classic” James line-up of Tim Booth (vocals), Gavan Whelan (drums), Jim Glennie (bass) and Larry Gott (guitar).

Following Gavan’s departure, JAMES take to the road with new members David Baignton Power, known for his session work with It’s Immaterial and other leading North West bands, on drums and Saul Davies on violin, guitar and percussion.

The tour dates are :

March 14th : Newcastle University

March 15th : Sheffield University

March 16th : Hull University

March 18th : Manchester Free Trade Hall

March 21st : Birmingham Powerhouse

March 22nd : London Dominion

He’s Dave Baignton-Power, and the band have taken the opportunity to add a new member, guitarist, violinist and percussionist Saul Davies.

After the dates, the new line-up will record a single called ‘Sit Down’, due for release in May, probably on their own label. And they’ll start work on a new album soon after. Their live album, ‘One Hand Clapping’ is out this week on Rough Trade and reviewed on Page 40.

James, le groupe de Manchester invité du festival Inrockuptibles de l’automne dernier et qui s’est fait jeter de chez Sire, sort son nouvel album « One Man Clapping » enregistré live en octobre dernier à Bath en Angleterre.

Depuis, le groupe a changé de batteur avec l’arrivée de David Baynton Power et le recrutement d’un violoniste en la personne de Saul Davies. Le disque sort sur leur propre label One Man Record distribué par Rough Trade outre-Manche.

Best – March 1989

Details

Patti Caldwell : Welcome to Out of Order the programme that bites. Tonight we see the flipside of the glamorous pop industry. How one promising British band disappeared when they signed on the same British label as Madonna.

Looking for fame and fortune and climbing the charts, tonight Out of Order looks at what it’s like to be young, talented and signed up to a huge American music corporation and then left on the shelf with little chance of escape.

Reporter : Madonna is number one in the album charts. This is the story of the British band hoping to copy her success with the WEA/Sire record corporation. They too joined the stable of Seymour Stein, the man who signed Madonna.

In 1985, rock critics had tipped James as the next big British rock act and Seymour Stein snapped them up into an exclusive contract. But unlike Madonna, they were never to earn more than £30 a week. A number one band in the independent charts, front page of the NME and described by Sounds Magazine as “pop gods and saviours of rock n roll., they now belonged exclusively to the world of Sire and WEA, part of the massive Warner Communications. Only when they were signed did they realise that it wasn’t a passport to fame and fortune.

Jim : Things were going really well for us. We were being courted by the record companies. We signed to Sire on a high. We were going and then things stopped basically.

Tim : We would ring people in WEA a year after we’d signed and we’d say “This is so and so from James” and they’d say James Who? and it was like they didn’t even know you were part of WEA and Sire

Reporter : From rock n roll to medical guinea pigs, testing drugs at the local hospital for £10 a day so that they could continue to work full-time. James shared their manager with top WEA act Simply Red. They’ve sold millions. Now Elliot Rashman has put at risk his vital relationship with WEA and Sire by talking to Out of Order. He believes that by now James should be a top international act, but he says they were left in a dark corner of the musical industry, what’s known as the mummification process.

Elliot Rashman : Most of the major record labels in the US use the independent music scene in the UK as a Sainsburys and they come over here with their metaphorical shopping trolley and fill it full of independent acts and the cost for a major American conglomerate is minimal so they come over here and every year they sign bands and bands and bands and they tell them it’s all going to be wonderful and they’re the next big thing and that’s as much as they do. All they have to do is sign them, they don’t have to work them.  Now their view is business is business.

Reporter : Into the shopping trolley and locked into a sixty page contract, James were owned by Sire “throughout the universe” and in the hands of that company. In this letter to WEA, manager Elliot Rashman accuses the company of failing to give proper promotion. The problem he says stems from Sire’s policy of “sign them and see what happens but don’t spend any money in the meantime”  All this from a man whose only other band, Simply Red, were making millions for WEA. Sire were committed to releasing two albums. Today hype and promotion are the lifeblood of pop hits. Elliot Rashman is scathing over the release of the second James LP.

ER : It ended up on the shelf. It ended up being released because again from a contractual point of view, all they have to do is release it and they’ve obliged, they’ve fulfilled their side of the contract.

Reporter : Is it possible to have hits by just releasing….

ER : No, it’d be dead within a week.

PC : Well, the only advice Elliot Rashman could give James was to break up and to escape the contact. James, the high hopes of 85 watched the obituraries roll in.

Reporter : Across the Atlantic, Rolling Stone magazine wrote a glowing feature on flamboyant Stein, boasting that he’s a collector, he likes to collect furniture. James felt like they were in the attic and Sire wouldn’t let them out of the contract.

Larry : If they turned round and let a band  go and they then go on and have success elsewhere, then they’re left with egg on their face and probably no job. They’ll be branded as “He’s the guy who let James go. He’s the guy who let the Beatles go.” It’s not a very good reference for the next job. So they keep you.

Reporter : So the band waited. Their last album recorded in February 1987 wasn’t released by Sire until Autumn 88. With no new material, there seemed little point in playing live.

We tracked down Seymour Stein to London to see if he would talk to us and he refused. He said he was too busy at the moment with the promotion, the parties and the razzmatazz of the new Madonna album.

Three years on from signing, James are at last free, risking everything, they’ve borrowed £12,000 to put out a live album.

Tim : Seymour heard that we were making this programme and threatened to stop us releasing our LP even though we’re not on the label. So obviously there’s a threat there.

Reporter : Stein eventually relented but there’s a final twist.

ER : It means their new album, which is a live album, coming out on their own independent label, they have to pay the record company because they’re using songs, albeit performed live, from the previous two albums. They don’t even let you go. It’s a bit like hacking your arm off and still feeling the sensation for a couple of years.

Reporter : Saturday night and the touts are out. Freed from their contract, James are back.

PC : We called WEA Records no less than seventeen times to ask for an interview with Seymour Stein because we wanted to hear what he had to say. We traced him through his New York office to Madrid where we delivered a list of questions. Why did his company not let James go when, as it appeared, they were not promoting them? Well, we’re still waiting for an answer on that one. But one question it appears has been answered. This week, four years on, James new album went to number one in the independent charts.

This is the band itinerary from 1989 James Spring Tour.

JAMES (above), whose ‘One Man Clapping’ live album (on Rough Trade) has put their vinyl nightmare with Sire behind them, have set up a tour, starting in mid-June.

With new keyboard player Mark Hunter now in the line-up, they play Liverpool Royal Court June 16, Nottingham Trent Polytechnic 17, Bristol Bierkeller 19, Leicester University 20,
Manchester Ritz 27 and London Marquee July 3-4.

James, le groupe de Manchester invite au festival lnrockuptibles de l’automne dernier et qui s’est fait jeter de chez Sire, sort son nouvel album « One Man Clapping , enregistre live en
octobre dernier a Bath en Angleterre.

Depuis, le groupe a change de batteur avec l’ar­rivee de Dave Blaignton Power et le recrutement d’un violiniste en la personne de Saul Davis. Le disque sort sur leur propre label One Man Clapping Records distribue par Rough Trade outre-Man­che

WHATEVER YOU think of their first single since the big split with Sire Records, ‘Sit Down’ (and the Sounds office is pretty split here), there can be no doubting the uplifting inspiration of a James gig.

Though departed drummer Gavan Whelan’s devil-may-care attitude will be sorely missed (not to mention his excellent rhythmic capabilities), the new expanded six-piece- with violin and keyboards – has only served to highlight James’ potential as a giant rock band, whose attention to issues Green and adherence to the Byrne/Gabriel ethic of multi-cultural absorption has given them a magical, almost angelic edge over some of rock’s more morose competitors.

Expect songs from all points on the Factory-Sire-Rough Trade career, and don’t be surprised if singer Tim Booth suddenly comes swimming over your right shoulder. Don’t ‘Sit Down’, get up!

Details

James are back again with a new single called Sit Down with a new album towards the end of the year. They recently signed to Rough Trade after encountering various problems with their last record company.

Tim : I mean they weren’t very interested in us. We didn’t feel. We felt they had us and they didn’t do anything with our songs. They were a bit confused by the music we made. I think they found it a bit too individualistic. They told us it was too English for them. It was obviously not working and we were surprised when they said they wanted to carry on working with us after the second LP but they did want to carry on so we had to sneak off because we were really fed up.

Question : I was going to ask you if it had shaken your confidence, but obviously not.

Tim : I mean it was awful. We made this LP two years before it got released and we didn’t release anything in a two-year period and we had a big momentum going before that. So we lost it all just being not able to do anything. Remixes, the whole lot happened.

Jim: It was a really difficult period

Tim: We lost confidence a little bit in that sense.

Jim: You know we always believed the music would win through in the end. We would come out the other side and it would be OK, but the main thing was getting off Sire.

Tim: When we came off Sire and the drummer left, the nucleus of three of us, me, Larry and Jim, we write the songs. we thought about changing the name and starting again just for ourselves. But we kind of decided against it.

(part of Sit Down video)

Jim: It’s nice. Occassionally, you’re kind of walking down the street, been to Tesco, in shopping mode and they encroach on that a little bit. Encroach is the wrong word as it sounds not particularly pleasant but they’ll say “hello” and you’ll go “woah” because the two worlds are very different. You can go into one and come out again, and noone recognises you and everything’s fine and it’s funny where they overlap. It’s obviously not a big problem – yet – as it’s not happening all the time and people aren’t hassling you when you go into the shop all the time.

Tim: Only really in Manchester

Question: What about when one of your records gets played in a club? Do you get embarrassed by that?

Tim: No, it’s dead exciting. You see a dancefloor being filled in Manchester when they play one of your records. You feel you don’t want people to see you there but you kind of want to watch. Like that’s what you want. It’s how you feel it’s should be

Jim: You get a bit self-conscious

Tim: Yes, Jim went to see a band last week and they did a cover version of one of our songs and everyone was looking round at him.

Jim: It’s really nice. It’s dead flattering. I was really glad I was there but you feel that, even if they’re not, you feel that the whole place is looking at you.

(another section of Sit Down video)

Tim : I mean we’ve all changed over a long period of time. We’ve been through a lot of different phases. When we first started, our lifestyles were chaotic as in the rock and roll terms. We kind of lost a guitarist to that lifestyle, he ended up very ill and in prison. And so we’ve been through that kind of phase. We had a puritanical clean up where we saw we could have gone the same way and we didn’t want to do that. And then now, we’re just more relaxed, just enjoying what we do, we love our music.

I mean the thing about James is that is so special to me is that it’s not just about one person or centred around two or three. Even now, we’re a six-piece with three new members, they’re all great musicians in their own right. Each one of them could front a band and have it based around them, but we’ve got six people working together of that level of combustibility. And it’s really exciting. And you don’t normally get that. That will sound arrogant, but that’s how I see it, because, obviously, I’m the singer and I wouldn’t be working if I didn’t really respect and love the music we’re creating. We wouldn’t keep going that long if we didn’t love it.

Question : Have there been any regrets?

Tim: Regrets? We’ve had a few. Oh yes, we shouldn’t have gone on Sire. We shouldn’t have signed on the dotted line. The little signature. That was a mistake

Jim : You don’t know. We could have ended up with someone else ten times worse and all split up and committed suicide or something.

Tim : You can’t really regret. If we’d have stayed with Factory and recorded with them, something else might have gone wrong. We might have been hit by a bus because we weren’t down in London signing for Sire.

Jim : You don’t know do you?

Tim : You never know

James Single News

June 1989: James kick off a long-term recording relationship with Rough Trade Records with the single Sit Down released on June 19th.  Sit Down looks set to build on the success of the indie chart-topping One Man Clapping live album; the b-side Sky Is Falling shows the band have lost none of their out-spoken concern for environmental issues.

The full track listing for the twelve inch version is as follows :

• Side A : Sit Down (Extended Version)
• Side B : Goin Away, Sound Investment and Sky Is Falling

Keyboardist Mark Hunter is welcomed aboard the line-up for a national tour – dates as follows :

June

• 16th Liverpool Royal Court
• 17th Nottingham Trent Polytechnic
• 19th Bristol Bierkeller
• 20th Leicester University
• 27th Manchester Ritz
• 28th Manchester Ritz

July

• 3rd London Marquee
• 4th London Marquee

It’s called Sit Down which should be familiar to most James gig goers and is out on Rough Trade.

The single is their first studio recording since their Strip-Mine album.

Les yeux dévorants, les textes sur le bout des lèvres, les gamins du premier rang fixaient Tim Booth d’une manière dont peu de chanteurs peuvent se vanter de l’être. C’était au Marquee, le single était à peine sorti que, déjà, ce parterre de gosses sidérés le connaissaient par cœur, dévoués au charisme trouble du chanteur.

« Sit Down », le single idéal, celui qui aurait dû monter dans le chart anglais comme le « Song For Whoever » de Beautiful South, s’il n’y avait pas une inexplicable poisse sur les merveilles de James.

Un single qui donne un efois de plus l’envie de se battre pour ce groupe si normal mais tellement différent.

Google Translation(!)

Devouring eyes, the texts on the lip of the front row kids staring Tim Booth in a way that few singers can boast of being. It was at the Marquee , the single just came out that already this audience of stunned kids knew by heart , devoted to the disorder charisma of the singer .

” Sit Down”, the ideal single one who should ride in the chart English as the ” Song For Whoever ” Beautiful South , if there was not some inexplicable bad luck on the wonders of James .

A single that gives efois more desire to fight for what so normal but so different group.

Interviewer : I’m joined now by Tim and Larry from the band James. I’m absolutely delighted to meet these two because I thought coming from a Mancunian band who I expected to wear really long overcoats and be really serious that this was going to be murder, but these guys are quite jolly. Tim.

Tim : Jolly. Must be something we ate I think.

Interviewer : I think so.You’re not very used to doing this kind of thing are you because you’re not very, even though you’ve had a lot of records, you’ve had a reputation for being indie and here you are poised, or I thought you were until you were talking to me a minute ago, poised to have a hit single. Was Sit Down a conscious effort to do something different that would get you in the charts?

Tim : No, all our songs are created through improvisation and about one song a year we make that’s kind of like Sit Down which has the potential for being a commercial success and all we do is earmark those as singles, because obviously there are certain things that are more likely to be played on the radio than others and a lot of our music is much harder than Sit Down, so we don’t release them as singles as they wouldn’t stand a chance.

Interviewer : With the thoughtful image that you’ve got and your fans like about you, do you think that they would resent your success if you did get in the charts?

Tim : There might be some people who would like to hold on if they think it’s very precious to them, but, you know, all we can do is concentrate on the music. As long as you keep the music pure then that’s all that matters, they’ll be OK with it, they’ll get by.

Interviewer : People always write about you and The Smiths and Simply Red as being part of some sort of Manchester scene. Do you think that really existed, Larry?

Larry : No, I don’t think it did. I don’t think it was like the Merseybeat scene and all those scenes like the New York scene of 1976-77 and things like that where everybody rehearsed in the same place, knew each other and went to everybody’s gigs. You know, it just so happened that all those bands came out of Manchester round about the same time. I think there’s more of a scene now with bands like The Stone Roses, Happy Mondays and Inspiral Carpets, they appear to be more closer-knit.

Tim : We see quite a lot of them as well.

Larry : Places that they rehearse and record

Interviewer : How important is it now if you’re a Manchester band or a Liverpool band to come to London. Will the record companies come up North to find you?

Tim : I think there’s quite a lot of people coming up to Manchester at the moment because it’s meant to be a hot city at the moment.

Interviewer : Hey. I’m hot and I’m cool.

Tim : So at the moment, this year Manchester’s in. Next year, it probably won’t be again. But you are a bit cut off. It’s very hard, the business centre is in London and you do feel quite cut off a lot of the time. Also apparently if a band in a city sells a lot of records, when it comes to get charted, it gets what’s called regionalised which they don’t take consideration of the fact if you sell a lot in your own city. Whereas if you’re a London band and you sell a lot of records in London, you aren’t regionalised. So the charts are slightly stacked there. So you know, you do feel quite separate a lot of the time.

Interviewer : I’ve got a clipping from Sounds, it must be the current issue of Sounds, that says about you, Tim, it says “He’s nothing but an effite Buddhist vegan in a Morroccan skullcap who neither drinks Nescafe nor says the word Bottom in polite conversation”

Tim : No, it doesn’t say that, it says that’s my image. The image I’ve been landed with.

Interviewer : But it is your image, isn’t it?

Tim : I don’t know, I think that’s slightly journalistic licence. That one. Basically I shaved my head about two or three months ago.

Interviewer : But most of it’s grown back.

Tim : Yeah, it’s all grown back now and so I wore a Morroccan hat, a, to keep my head warm and b because I wasn’t sure I was happy with having a bald head. And people make a lot of assumptions when you have a bald head.

Interviewer : You’re right

Tim : You’re either a skinhead or a Hare Krishna you know

Interviewer : Or very very old. I wonder if you had any special feelings at 12.34 and 5 seconds today, during Doris Collins psychic moment.Were you aware of all that?

Tim : Yes I could feel something, I could feel some spirits trying to contact us, willing us on. I think it was my Great Grandfather. I could see him standing there. Talking about the war.

Interviewer : Was this a wind up or?

Tim : Yes

Interviewer : That’s what you never know of course. Is he a bit of a wind-up merchant, Larry?

Larry : That’s where the image comes from. All those images we’ve been landed with are all wind-ups of journalists who’ve taken it seriously. Or they’ve just printed it verbatim. It just comes out. As you read it, it reads flat and you don’t see the tongue in cheekness.

Interviewer : I love the way

Tim : Bottom

Interviewer : There you are.

Larry : In public. On radio

Interviewer : I love the way Smash Hits occasionally shove in a complete fib in the hope that other journalists pick it up. One example was that Bruce Springsteen’s real name is Roger. They sat back and waited for other newspapers and it works. It always works for them.

So I gather you’re going to do us an extemporised tune here.

Tim : Yeah, we’ve got two if you want them.

Interviewer : Let’s try the one and see

Tim : We’ve not rehearsed this.

Interviewer : Larry’s going to play the guitar and Tim’s going to sing. What’s it called?

Tim : Promised Land, but it has a reference to our glorious leader.

Interviewer : Really, there’s been a couple of songs called Promised Land.

Tim : It’s terrible, isn’t it? I’m really embarrassed. And it’s also kind of a political song. We hardly ever write political songs and this is the only one we can do acoustic.

Interviewer : Larry and Tim from James acoustic in the studios of GLR.

(play Promised Land)

Interviewer : Are you going to be doing any real live James gigs in London in the future?

Tim : We’ve just done two nights in the Marquee last week. In November, we’re going to come back and probably play the Town and Country. We’re recording a new LP in the summer with our new six-piece band. Got a violinist, a guitarist.

Interviewer : So Sit Down is a track from that, is it?

Tim : Sit Down, yeah. I think we’re going to redo it and make it a big harder because we play it harder and faster live now. But it’ll be something like that.

Interviewer : Well  thanks very much for joining us this afternoon. I gather you’ve got another live song for us.

Tim : Live we are a rock band, but this is acoustic. It was written about six years ago when they brought nuclear weapons into the country. I’m afraid it’s another topical one.

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James headlined the festival, with Cud / Man From Delmonte / Bradford / Farm / Hollowmen / And All Because The Lady Loves / Zoot & The Roots / Bridewell Taxis / New Fast Automatic Dafodils / Pale Saints / Treebound Story / Frank Sidebottom

Dave Simpson, Melody Maker

Thankfully James are incredible, pointing the way for modern, tuned-in pop. Rock music of the highest order – and make no mistake, this is rock music of the highest – order can capture the moods and the aspirations of its generation, and James do all of that tonight. As they end “Sit Down” (the entire audience doing precisely the opposite and dancing wildly) to absolutely deafening roars, it’s all I can do to stop the tears rolling down my face.

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Are you sitting comfortably? Then the new look freshly beefed James will begin – at The Apollo on December 4th. The Apollo? James? Beefed? Joff Lillywhite checks the changes to the city’s most spontaneous combo.

From the Mancunian fourpiece, so familiar to gig goers around the city centre comes the all-new James, a seven-piece line-up with extra percussion, brass and strings. The usual trademarks of the band, particularly Tim Booth’s distinctive vocals, remain constant. To top off the innovative guitar work of Larry Gott, James have incorporated a rather unusual, but pleasant combination of violin and trumpet, the result being “general orchestral madness” as Tim describes it.

James spent two months this summer in the studio recording for their next Nick Garside produced album Gold Mother which is out in February. Their new single Come Home, which comes from their LP and took only one hour to write and record, has just been released and like the last Sit Down is on the indie label Rough Trade. James ended up on this label after a spell on Factory, followed by a horrific deal at Sire, part of the giant Warner Bros empire. But the difference between Rough Trade and Sire is basically one of feedback. Tim thinks Rough Trade are more into and are interested in James music, whereas Sire were really only concerned with a concept of James that they had thought up. With so much trouble with record companies, it would not be surprising to find James sick of studio work. But, as Saul explains, “We are creative and very spontaneous in the studio, take Come Home, for example : just one hour from the first note written to the completion of the song.”

They are however, currently on tour around Britain and they play the Apollo on December 4th, much to Tim’s regret. He did say that he would never play there, but now there is no venue in Manchester that is the right size. Next year, according to Tim, there will be a shared gig at G-Mex with Happy Mondays. Does playing all-seated venues have any effect on the band’s performance though? Tim believes that non-seated venues are better for atmosphere but that playing seated venues like the Apollo means that the audience are more prepared to listen and notice what the band are playing.

Listening and understanding is all very well, but what about listening and misinterpreting? Does Tim ever worry that his lyrics might be misunderstood? Take the song Riders for example – what exactly does that mean? He explains…..

“Well, Riders is very specific, a very personal song. You see early James was very Happy Mondays-ish, very chemically induced and the situation was really getting out of hand, like one member of the band got really sick. Anyway, one day I was reading this book about dream analysis and thought I’d try and analyse the dream I had that night and the dream was Riders. The ‘sister in uniform’ was Nurse Ratchett from One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest and the listeners were people like Jim Morrison and Nick Cave, people from the ‘rock n roll hall of fame’. Anyway, that was the dream I had and it marked the beginning of our reformation, it took about a year for us to get our act together.”

Heavy stuff maybe, but when mixed with the band’s music, Tim’s lyrics blend in resulting in a sound so unique that it can only be called James.

This is the band itinerary from 1989 James Winter Tour.

Details

Snub asked frontman Tim Booth if he’d resolved his misgivings about impending adulation.

Tim : Well, it’s such a joke isn’t it? The whole thing is such a joke, it’s a surrealist’s nightmare. You know, people going hysterical. I take some of it seriously, I take some of it not so seriously. I have an ego, I’m flattered by a lot of it, I’m turned on by a lot of it., but also a part of my brain goes “This is ridiculous”. They don’t know you. I’m trying to go with it more because I believe, I think we blocked it last time when our wave came and as a result the wave and we watched it. And that wasn’t very clever because we ended up wondering what would have happened if. And we don’t want to wonder that anymore.

I think we should have changed our name this year and made it a complete new start because it feels very different, seven people and lots of new songs.

Government Walls is about the way they’re tightening up the secret service act, about the Peter Wright case. The way in this country they’re just trying, you know if anyone leaks anything, they say “That’s a secret service” and they can put you in prison for it. And they can stop the papers from telling you what the information actually is. But the information that they’re suppressing really tells you who runs this country and how this country is run.

So Bring Down The Government Walls is just about trying to prevent this secrecy that’s going on, which you have to suspect, all this stuff about, well I can’t even say it, can I?

(plays Government Walls)

I think bands tend to insult an audience’s intelligence and ability to concentrate. Like they say in America, isn’t it that each record has an average play of 1 1/2 plays because the concentration span is so low. But that isn’t with our records and I don’t believe that it necessarily has to be so. If the record is dull, people aren’t going to listen to it. But if there’s a lot in there, people have to listen to it. People should be stretched and we should be stretched. It shouldn’t be just going through the motions.

L’important pour nous, c’est d’ apporter un peu de ce qu’on peut pour que ce groupe avance !

Révélés par les Smiths qui reprirent une de leur chanson, les James eurent quelques difficultés pour concrétiser cette hype établie autour d’eux :

« En fait, nous n’étions ni punk ni quoi que ce soit ; on ne savait pas très bien jouer et contrairement à d’autres ça nous a beaucoup nuit. »

Ainsi, après deux albums qui ne connurent qu’un très moyen écho, la bande à Booth vit enfin le jour grâce à deux singles météorites satellisés en plein pendant la furie Manchester et qui leur permirent de laisser venir.

« On ne s’est pas posé trop de questions, on a enregistré notre album comme on l’entendait, et ce n’est qu’après le mixage qu’on est allé voir les maisons de disques avec un produit fini. D’ailleurs, Phonogram (heureuse élue) a du renoncer à ressortir « Sit Down » parce que nous voulions sortir un autre single et on leur a dit que ça faisait partie des conditions du contrat. Mais ça n’empêche pas la maison de disque de nous faire des propositions. Souvent, lorsqu’on les écoute, on se dit non, c’est pas possible de faire ceci ou cela, et puis finalement, parfois, c’est pas si idiot que ça. En tout cas, pour l’instant, ils font du bon boulot. »

Ce fut donc « Come Home » qui suivit son prédécesseur sur les plus hautes marches des charts anglais assurant à ses auteurs une reconnaissance nationale et méritée.

Depuis, le groupe a joué un peu partout dont plusieurs fois à Paris, notamment au désormais fameuses soirées Hacienda de la Locomotive. Il était donc hors de question, au lendemain du concert Inrockuptible, que je n’interroge point Tim Booth sur ses camarades de promotion ainsi que sur cette aura qui semble entourer Manchester ces temps-ci, tout en prenant bien soin de ne pas oublier que lui et son groupe sont là depuis bien plus longtemps.

« On n’est pas vraiment concerné parce qu’on est plus grand que tout ça. En Angleterre, on joue dans des salles de 10.000 personnes, donc c’est tranquille à ce niveau ; par contre, ce qui est ennuyeux, c’était quand nous n’avions pas encore ce succès, car on s’intéressait à nous parce que nous étions de Manchester et nous craignions qu’une fois la mode passée, les portes se referment sur nous. Quant aux groupes de Manchester, les Happy Mondays ont été notre partie il y a deux ans, et ça s’est bien passé ; les Stones Roses ont quelques bonnes chansons dont « Fool’s Gold » qui est excellente, mais il y a quand même une tendance à copier à Manchester ; tant que ça reste dans un esprit ouvert comme les Happy Mondays ou certains morceaux des Stones Roses, là ça commence à ne plus vouloir dire grand-chose, c’est comme un écho d’un écho.

Quand on prépare des morceaux, la démarche est très simple : on se réunit à trois (la base du groupe est constituée du chanteur, du bassiste et du guitariste) et on travaille les morceaux en appelant les autres musiciens au fur et à mesure. C’est vrai que notre façon d’écrire des morceaux est très démodée et traditionnelle, mais la mode ne m’a jamais vraiment intéressé. Cela étant, je crois que la vague de Dance Music qui a envahi l’Angleterre nous a quand même influencé. Une chanson comme « Come Home » est bien une chanson de son époque tout en étant personnelle ; quoi qu’il en soit, je ne la renie en rien. Tu sais, c’est très dur de savoir vraiment d’où viennent tes influences. Notre trompettiste, par exemple, lui, vient du jazz, ce qui ne l’empêche pas de laisser ses influences de côté lorsqu’il joue dans James. Du moins consciemment il ne va pas nous refaire tel ou tel solo à la manière d’un autre. L’important, pour nous, c’et d’apporter chacun un peu de ce qu’on peut à ce groupe pour q’il avance.

Bientôt, nous allons retourner en studio pour faire un nouvel album qui sera exclusivement composé de nouvelles chansons. Car même si certains souhaitent nous voir enregistrer certaines de nos vieilles chansons qui ne l’ont pas été et que nous jouons sur scène, nous voulons garder une marge de surprise pour les fans qui viennent à nos concerts et qui croient connaître tous nos morceaux. Pour la production, on est actuellement en discussion avec Gil Norton (Pixies), mais rien n’est fait, si ce n’est que ça se passera probablement dans les semaines qui vont venir. »

François Gerald ( Best – December 1989)

« Si Smiths est un joli nom de famille, alors James est le prénom idéal » écrivait Michka Assayas en novembre 1986 dans Libération. Il essayait sans doute d’expliquer par là que James représentait la deuxième génération mancunienne de pop mélancolique sur fond de guitares cristallines. Quatre ans plus tard, le quatuor a grandi et évolué. Tim Booth, chanteur et leader de James s’explique.

(Tim Booth) Cela fait six-sept ans que l’on existe sous le nom de James. On est basé à Manchester. On a sorti quelques disques sur Factory. On s’est fait bloquer par Sire, la compagnie de disques américaine pendant quelques temps. On est maintenant sur notre propre label. On est sept dans le groupe : un violoniste qui joue également de la batterie et de la guitare, un trompettiste multi-instrumentiste, un clavier, une guitare, une basse, une batterie.

On est un grand orchestre maintenant. 1989 aura été une année de grands changements pour nous. On est complètement différent.

Chaque fois que je vous vois en concert, vous êtes deux de plus dans le groupe.

Oui, on s’agrandit, on se multiplie. Ca tombe bien, avant on était un peu limité.

N’est-ce pas plutôt pour essayer de combler un vide quelque part ?

Non, dans le groupe, tous sont excellents musiciens. On a cherché pendant longtemps des gens qui avaient la bonne attitude musicale. On les a trouvé cette année, on ne pouvait pas les refuser.

Avec The Band Of Holy Joy, vous avez fait en octobre 89 un concert pour le CND (Campagne pour le Désarmement Nucléaire).

C’était juste un concert de soutien pour lancer une vidéo de groupes indépendants anglais. Tout l’argent va servir à financer un e campagne pour le CND. Il y a tout le temps des benefits dans ce pays. Les groupes y participent pour différentes causes et l’importance du groupe ne devrait pas jouer&ldots; même si le but est de gagner le plus d’argent possible.

Bradford a été sauvé de l’anonymat par une déclaration de Morrissey qui disait qu’il était le groupe le plus intéressant d’Angleterre. Ceci posé, peut-on dire que les Smiths vous ont « découverts »(James ayant fait la première partie de la tournée Meat Is Murder en 1985) ?

(Ton sec et télégraphique, histoire de faire bien comprendre que l’on pourrait parler d’autre chose) Non pas du tout ! Ils aimaient notre musique. Ils nous ont emmené en tournée avec eux. Ils reprenaient nos chansons sur scène. On s’entendait bien avec eux&ldots;J’ai aimé pas mal de trucs qu’ils ont fait. J’ai pas aimé d’autres trucs. Je suis pote avec Morrissey, je l’aime bien&ldots;Je n’ai jamais été fan des Smiths.

Toute la musique intéressante vient de Manchester en ce moment. Vrai ou faux ?

Vrai ou faux ? C’est un jeu ? Je gagne quelque chose si je réponds bien ? Non, tous les groupes auxquels tu penses jouent à Manchester depuis des années. Ils ne recevaient aucune attention de la part de la presse. Et puis, depuis un an, la presse et les médias se sont dits « eh, regarde ce qui se passe à Manchester ». Ils pensent donc que tous ces groupes sont nouveaux.

La presse musicale en Angleterre est-elle si importante ?

Je suis très cynique à propos de l’argent, des maisons de disques qui achètent les charts, du pouvoir de l’image sur les journalistes&ldots;Ils semblent être tous obsédés par l’imagerie, la mythologie rock’n’roll. Je trouve cela enfantin&ldots;Quand on a commencé avec James, on ne prenait pas les interviews au sérieux. On mettait des fringues ridicules pour les photos parce que l’on pensait que ça n’avait rien à voir avec la musique. On a refusé longtemps de donner des interviews ou alors, on racontait des conneries qui étaient prises au sérieux. Tout cela nous a valu une image très négative. Il nous a fallu beaucoup de temps pour redresser la barre. Maintenant, on sait que les choses sont importantes pour des gens, maos pas toujours pour nous. On joue plus le jeu qu’avant, c’est tout.

Avez-vous eu des choix difficiles à faire avec le groupe ?

Oui. Avec Sire, on a eu un combat. Un combat d’affaire. Ils voulaient qu’on devienne un grand groupe de rock alors que nous, on voulait juste continuer à faire notre musique. Ca a été un combat qu’on n’a pas gagné d’ailleurs vu qu’aucun disque n’est sorti pendant deux ans. Ca nous a tué créativement&ldots; On a perdu beaucoup à l’époque.

Votre album live s’intitule « One Man Clapping », est-ce une blague ?

Oui, c’est juste une blague. Dans tous les albums live, les groupes rock veulent toujours qu’on entende bien qu’il y a un public énorme. C’est une partie importante de leur disque. Dans notre live, le public applaudit d’un bout à l’autre et, à la fin du dernier titre, ça monte en intensité et il n’y a plus qu’un seul mec qui applaudit. C’est le sens de l’humour de James&ldots; ce n’est pas très drôle.

James, vous prenez au sérieux ?

Oui, nous prenons notre musique au sérieux mais nous ne nous prenons pas au sérieux . Tu sais, tu fais un concert et après, il y a des gens qui veulent t’embrasser et qui ne partiront pas avant de t’avoir embrassé. Il y a des gens qui font 300 kms pour nous voir, qui nous suivent dans toute l’Angleterre. Alors, tu ne peux pas prendre cela au sérieux ou alors tu devient maboul. Il y a des gens que je connais personnellement et qui sont devenus des mythes du fait de la presse musicale&ldots; je sais que c’est très dur à assumer. Au début, c’est drôle, on joue avec ça, je préfèrerais que les choses soient plus honnêtes , qu’il n’y ait pas de mensonges, qu’on ne doive pas être des personnages exotiques ou glamoureux pour vendre des disques&ldots; Je pense que nous faisons une musique formidable et que nous produisons sur scène l’un des bruits les plus excitants qui soit. Je voudrais que les gens viennent nous voir, s’amusent bien, passent du bon temps et que les rapports en restent là.

Mais je crois que je ne suis pas réaliste.

Richard Bellia (Ritual [belgian fanzine])

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James and The Charlatans look set to sign new record deals in the latest round of A+R activity surrounding Manchester.

James are reportedly in negotiations with Phonogram although they’ve yet to put pen to paper. Rumours of a Phonogram deal have been in the air for some time, and although official sources are tight-lipped, it’s believed that they are close to signing.

James were previously with a major, having moved to Sire from their early days with Factory. But after an apparently unhappy time with the US-based label moved to Rough Trade, having a couple of minor hits last year with Sit Down and Come Home.

James release their first Fontana single – ‘How Was It For You?’ – on April 30th. The b-side of the 45 features ‘Whoops’ recorded live at Manchester Apollo at the end of last year, while the twelve inch contains two more live tracks – the legendary ‘Hymn From A Village’ and ‘How’ – plus ‘Lazy’. The CD line-up reads ‘How Was It For You?’, ‘Undertaker’ and ‘Hymn From A Village’. None of these extra tracks will be available on the group’s new LP, which is set for release at the beginning of June.

James began their recording career in 1983 with Factory Records, producing two acclaimed singles ‘What’s The World’ (later to be covered by The Smiths) and ‘Hymn From A Village’ plus the ‘Village Fire EP’.

Signing to Sire Records in 1985, the group put out two albums ‘Stutter’ and ‘Strip Mine’. during an awkward three year relationship with the label. Leaving Sire, James pursued an independent path, releasing a live album – ‘One Man Clapping’ – through Rough Trade in February 1989.

Following the departure of original drummer Gavan Whelan the nucleus of James – vocalist Tim Booth, bass player Jim Glennie and guitarist Larry Gott – toughened up their sound with the addition of Dave Baynton-Power on drums.

Enjoying two indie hits with ‘Sit Down’ and ‘Come Home’ and a sell-out tour, the group expanded their line-up to a seven piece with multi-instrumentalist Saul Davies, keyboard player Mark Hunter and Andy Diagram on trumpet, joining James ranks.

The group started 1990 taking several coaches from Manchester over to Paris to play the Hacienda’s Temperance Club night out.

James set off on their World Cup tour in June, which includes festival dates at Womad and Glastonbury. The group are still waiting to firm up details for a major Manchester summer show.

Dated 9th April 1990

James are one of the original wave of new Manchester bands, they appeared at the same time as The Smiths, and were accorded the ‘Morrissey’s favourite band’ label. Previously the band have released three albums, and built up a sizeable live following, enabling them to sell out large venues across the country.

Their first single for Fontana will be ‘How Was It For You?’ produced by the band and Nick Garside and mixed by Tim Palmer.

Each format of the single will feature a previously unavailable James track, and will be very much in demand from their very loyal fan base.

James play an extensive UK tour right through June and three shows in May, Cambridge, Brighton and the WOMAD Festival.

The band are guaranteed extensive music press coverage around the release of the single and are recording a John Peel session to transmit in May.

The band’s last single on Rough Trade was a Mark Goodier hit-lister on Radio One and they are no strangers to daytime radio.

PREVIOUSLY UNAVAILABLE TRACKS

7″ ‘WHOOPS’ (live) Recorded in Manchester

12″ ‘HYMN FROM A VILLAGE (live)’ Recorded in Manchester, ‘LAZY’ – New Track not on forthcoming LP

CD ‘HYMN FROM A VILLAGE’ (live), ‘UNDERTAKER – New Track not on forthcoming LP

RELEASE DATE : 30th APRIL, 1990

JIM 5 How Was It For You? / Whoops (Live)

JIM 512 How Was It For You? / Hymn From A Village (Live) / Lazy

JIMCD 5 How Was It For You? / Hymn From A Village (Live) / Undertaker

JAMES have been forced to put their forthcoming tour back six weeks because of delays in recording their first single and LP since signing to Phonogram.

But their agents have carefully booked the rescheduled shows with days off so everyone can watch England’s World Cup games.

The new dates are Cambridge Corn Exchange (May 13), Brighton Top Rank (14), Morecambe WOMAD Festival (19), Glasgow Barrowlands (June 5),Lancaster University (6), Hull City Hall (8), Exeter University (9), Bristol Studio (10), Middlesbrough Town Hall (12), Leeds University (13), Sheffield University (14), Liverpool Royal Court (15), Norwich UEA (17), Nottingham Rock City (18), London Kilburn National Ballroom (19),Birmingham Hummingbird (20) and Glastonbury Festival (23).

All tickets are still valid for the rearranged shows. The dates in Belfast and Dublin are likely to be slotted in at the end of May. Vinylwise, James should have a single out later this month with an LP to follow in June.

JAMES release their first Fontana single “How Was It For You”, on April 30. It’s backed with “Whoops”, recorded live at Manchester Apollo at the end of last year, while the 12-inch contains two more live tracks, “Hymn From A Village”and “How”, plus “Lazy”.

The CD single contains “How Was It For You”, “Undertaker” and “Hymn From A Village”. None of the extra tracks will be available on the group’s new LP which is set for release at the beginning of June. At that time James will be about to start their World Cup Tour which includes festival dates at Womad and Glastonbury. They are still waiting to finalise details of a major Manchester show in the summer. Meanwhile, they have added a tour date at Aberdeen Metro Hotel on June 4.

JAMES release their first Fontana single ‘How Was It For You’ on Monday-a taster for the band’s next album due to hit the shops in June.

The revived Manchester band’s latest effort will also feature a batch of live tracks on the flip­ the 12″ version containing a live version of their classic ‘Hymn From A Village’ plus ‘Whoops’ and’How’.

The live tracks were recorded at Manchester Apollo at the end of last year.

Press release for James’ single How Was It For You.

Official Press Band Biography – Dated 9th April 1990

James release their first Fontana single – ‘How Was It For You?’ – on April 30th. The b-side of the 45 features ‘Whoops’ recorded live at Manchester Apollo at the end of last year, while the twelve inch contains two more live tracks – the legendary ‘Hymn From A Village’ and ‘How’ – plus ‘Lazy’. The CD line-up reads ‘How Was It For You?’, ‘Undertaker’ and ‘Hymn From A Village’. None of these extra tracks will be available on the group’s new LP, which is set for release at the beginning of June.

James began their recording career in 1983 with Factory Records, producing two acclaimed singles ‘What’s The World’ (later to be covered by The Smiths) and ‘Hymn From A Village’ plus the ‘Village Fire EP’.

Signing to Sire Records in 1985, the group put out two albums ‘Stutter’ and ‘Strip-mine’ during an awkward three year relationship with the label. Leaving Sire, James pursued an independent path, releasing a live album – ‘One Man Clapping’ – through Rough Trade in February 1989.

Following the departure of original drummer Gavan Whelan the nucleus of James – vocalist Tim Booth, bass player Jim Glennie and guitarist Larry Gott – toughened up their sound with the addition of Dave Baynton-Power on drums.

Enjoying two indie hits with ‘Sit Down’ and ‘Come Home’ and a sell-out tour, the group expanded their line-up to a seven piece with multi-instrumentalist Saul Davies, keyboard player Mark Hunter and Andy Diagram on trumpet, joining James ranks.

The group started 1990 taking several coaches from Manchester over to Paris to play the Hacienda’s Temperance Club night out.

James set off on their World Cup tour in June, which includes festival dates at WOMAD and Glastonbury. The group are still waiting to firm up details for a major Manchester summer show.

Setlist

Details

• Venue: BBC Maida Vale Studios, London, UK
• Date: 10th April 1990

Songs

• Come Home
• How Was It For You?
• Sunday Morning (cover)

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JAMES release their new LP, “Gold Mother”, through Fontana on June 4. The 10-track LP features the group’s Top 40 single “How Was It For You?” plus their indie hit, “Come Home”.

The album, produced by the group and Nick Garside, includes a guest appearance from Inspiral Carpets who contribute backing vocals to the title track.

Track listing is: “Come Home”, “Government Walls”, “God Only knows”, “How Much Suffering”, “Crescendo”, “How It Was For You?”, “Hang On”, “Walking The Ghost”, “Gold Mother” and “Top of the World”.

The group have added an extra date to their June World Cup tour at St Andrews Fife University on June 4.

Loud, dumb, obnoxious, red-neck Americans. Dontcha just love ’em? There are seven of the Big Mac dickheads in a Soho restaurant, terrorising the lettuce-reared, trendy wimp clientele. The yanks are shoving mountains of pasta into each others’ Grand Canyon gobs, splattering the table cloth with Sandinista blood sauce and chanting “Nicaragua! Grenada! Vietnam!” at the tops of their nuclear deterrent voices.

At a nearby table, one reputedly ideologically sound, sweet young English vegetarian and his two Manchester mates sit laughing at the Stars ‘n’ Stripes gorillas, winding them up, “What movie are you from? Animal House?” says the curly haired one. But the Americans prefer to pick on the girl opposite who’s getting ‘confrontational’ “Come on darling, frighten me with more than your face” they tell her. “Plastic surgery would be worth it, sweetheart” So her boyfriend picks up a bottle and starts to wade in.

At this point, Tim Booth, Larry Gott and Jim Glennie, who were thinking of leaving, decide it’s their moral duty to order a pudding and stick around for the fun.

None of this is quite the sort of behaviour that people would normally associate with James. But then people do have some funny ideas about them. In their seven year history as Manchester’s precious enigma boys, assumptions have grown around James like fungus on a dead fish. Despite the dashing pop energy of last year’s brilliant two singles, ‘Come Home’ and ‘Sit . Down’,they are still broadly conceived of as follows : the Smiths inheritors who slipped through the net; rustic English oddballs, too arrogant to write a decent pop song; village poet laureate mystics with a boring Green-leftie moral certitude streak; bookish wimps, not at all the types to join in with a bunch of meathead US shitizens singing “America The Beautiful”

The latter however is exactly what James were doing the night before I met them. In the intervening 22 hours Tim Booth took in a movie, danced like a nutcase at the Wag Club, slept for four hours and then got woken up by workmen singing “Ooooh Black Betty, bam-a-lam” outside his hotel window. Then in the hotel lobby he met a survivor of the Nazi concentration camps who pinned him down to recount his life story , and when I met him that afternoon he was standing by a large fish tank in a photo studio, herding fish into frame for photographer Cummins.

Tirn Booth is nobody’s caricature. He is intense, open and funny, and after a weird , sleep-deprived day and night, has the manic stare of an amazed child.

“James are going to be a big fish in a big pond,” he tells me with reference to the band’s recent return to major label Fontana / Phonogram, so I take Tim, Jim and Larry down the pun for a bit of a grilling.

Funny ideas about James One : James are a bunch of bleeding-heart, knee-jerk liberals.

Tim : “Well, for a start, you’d have to be referring to the lyrics to make a statement like that because how do knee-jerk liberals play? I’ve never seen David Steel play a guitar and I wouldn’t really know how he’d handle it. As for the lyrics, anyone who actually bothers to look at them will see that they’re a lot darker than that. Do you think that, or is it a provocative statement?”

It could be.

Tim : “Well it’s a good thing I’m not a bottle-on-the-head jerk left wing angry young man isn’t it?”

Booth’s mad eyes are staring rather intensely at me, so I agree. OK. Funny idea number two : James are a folk rock band.

Tim : “Anyone who has seen us live would have that idea changed. There might be certain songs in the set which have that element in them especially the acoustic ones, but that’s at most ten percent. And no one says we’re a heavy rock band, but there’s an equal measure of heavy rock songs in the set.”

Three : You, Tim Booth, would rather read a good book than shag Madonna.

Tim : “I think we’d better leave you with your popular misconceptions. I think you should get some help. I don’t think Madonna is actually… I think she’s quite sexy, I guess. I think I’d rather have safe sex than read a good book. I’d rather have safe sex with Madonna than read a good book. Now, if you’d said Jodie Foster…..”

Four : You, Tim Booth, are a surrealist poet who nicked all his ideas from Arthur Rimbaud.

Tim : “No, Anton Artaud please. I can’t read French anyway… I find poetry boring.”

Five : None of you have sufficiently similar musical tastes to want to play the same song at the same time.

Larry : “Probably not too far off the truth there.”

Tim : “That’s a nice one. They’re getting a bit soft now.”

Six : James moment has come and gone

Tim : “Well we can’t say anything about that, can we? We’re just going to have to show you. We’ll show whoever decides that. We’re going to make them all eat fish.”

Aside from the fact that they’re suckers for a dumb fish joke, what becomes quickly apparent from locking antlers with Tim, Larry and Jim is that they’re in confident combative mood. There are good reasons for this. A year back when the new breed of Manchester bands were getting geared up for Top of the Pops, James were still recovering from an unproductive period with Sire.

Three awkward years on the major label had left them without even the money to sue the name crowding Halo James (“He deserves a good kicking”). As they expanded to a seven-piece they were for a while planning to change their name, feeling that they were by no means the same band who put out Hymn From A Village in Factory in 83.

Tim Booth was, however, outvoted. They kept the name and by the end of the year, they’d had two glorious singles out on Rough Trade, kept their dedicated fans happy with a live LP, One Man Clapping, and had their summer. recorded, imminently released album ‘Gold Mother’ picked up by a major label.

The new James songs, of which the single ‘How Was It For You’ is the first unleashed, are fiercer, poppier and funkier than before, without losing any of the humpbacked dementia. They would seem to be going through the same sort of renaissance that The Fall went through with ‘Extricate’

Tim “We’ve all been stripping things down and trying to make the songs more simple and more direct in what we’re trying to say”

Do you think you’ve been musically arrogant in the past? Expected too much?

Tim: “Not from…. There were definitely people who were reading us on our level, and a lot in Manchester. We always got that feedback there…. If you ever see us play in Manchester, they’ll tear you apart if they ever found out who you were. You’ll see. It’s a really different kettle of fish there. Oh dear, nearly said ball game.”

“But some people have been able to respond to us on the level that we take ourselves, which is very seriously. I mean, we don’t take ourselves… I mean yeah, we were difficult, we were arrogant, we were very protective of our babies, our songs. We thought they were masterpieces and we wouldn’t let anyone else touch them. That ended up with us hiring producers who we didn’t let do their jobs. Now we’re more relaxed about it.”

Lying somewhere in Bristol is an entire student thesis written entirely about James. This would make for curious reading because as a songwriter, it has to be said that Booth is a bit of a schizo. On the one hand, there’s the fraught wordplay of the likes of Stutter or Whoops. In the other cranial hemisphere there’s the liberal protest songs, ecologically concerned, like Sky Is Falling, anti-Thatcher, like Promised Land, or bleeding heart for the disadvantaged like Sit Down.

So far from the new album, it emerges that How Was It For You? is about using drink and drugs to evade sexual guilt, How Much Suffering is about English emotional restraint and Gold Mother is about mother courage in child birth. Just occassionally it seems that Halo James would be an appropriate name for Booth’s own band. Is he angling for a sainthood or what? Fortunately, God Only Knows from the new album suggests otherwise.

Tim : “It’s about people speaking in the name of God, or thinking you can speak in the name of God, which is a highly dubious claim. Because a long time ago, I used to speak in the name of God.”

What do you mean?

Tim : “I had that kind of self-righteos zeal that only people who think they’re favoured by God can have. It was a long time ago, but I’m still very attracted to people who try and live their life by a thought-out code, and then find their life has another idea about it and it goes its own way. The more you say Thou Shall Not to anything in your life, the harder it becomes to resist. It’s like you build it up. So someone like Jimmy Swaggart I find very interesting. You know, the public posture contrasted with the private personality.”

“It’s like all the heavy left wing people, when they get to about 60, they all become fascists. It’s like they can’t hold back any longer. And all the atheists you know suddenly become born again pillocks.”

Does that mean the more you try and be a reasonable bloke who just happens to sing in a band, the bigger wanker you become? Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Tim : “No, it means that if I started telling people I was a regular guy in a band, which I don’t, but if I pretended I was, then I’d be a very irregular guy…. It doesn’t mean I’d be a wanker. An irregular wanker, perhaps, which I am. Not a man of habit.”

Back in 83, with Tim Booth fresh out of Manchester University drama studies, James put out Hymn From A Village, the song which was to line them up as the next big post punk jangle. A sprightly piece of off-kilter guitar pop, it’s mostly remarkable for a lyric which snaps at the inadequacy of pop-song language. So maybe the moralising streak in Booth, the bit that keeps coming up with – songs about wicked governments, evil preachers and irresponsible sex, is fired by plain old guilt. Do you feel guilty about doing something as frivolous as singing in a pop group?

Tim : “In terms of how you define pop, I don’t consider myselfto be in a pop group. You know, we make music and I don’t feel at all guilty about that because we make brilliant music and give a lot to people and get a lot for ourselves.  I mean, unless I become Mother Theresa or a lawyer or something, there’s no moral high ground in most people’s jobs, to absolve you of guilt. You know, unless you’re Bob Geldof. So I really don’t feel like that at all, and I don’t think any of us do.”

“I hardly ever express just one viewpoint in a song. Usually, there’s lots of different attitudes in them. I don’t understand how people can have clear cut attitudes to basically anything, except this government. I don’t understand how people can have clear cut attitudes about morality, about sex, about drugs. You know ‘DRUGS ARE GOOD’, ‘DRUGS ARE BAD’. Who can say? I don’t take liberal viewpoints.”

“I don’t believe there’s any morality. I don’t believe in morality. If I have to take a decision on something the decision will be practical, not moral. Liberalism is a lot to do with guilt and morality. If you’re going to make me fight out of that corner, you bastard.”

Neither wet liberal apologist, nor in-tuned poet nutcase, Booth is maybe too much of a slippery character to fit in with the conspicious pop personalities. Last time around, while the Morrisseys and Mark Smiths ran off with the miserable bugger prizes and the Housemartins stole the right-on plaudits, James were left muddling along in the margins. Too leftfield, too flighty as musicians, too cool for their own good. This time round though, there’s a focused, hard-headed determination in the James camp that comes across both in Booth’s righteous indignation at my James jibes and in the kick-ass edge (honest) to the new songs. The fired-up Tim Booth who sits at the back of a North London pub spouting lyrics in defence of his songs and telling me I’m as rude as the Americans in the restaurant, hardly matches up with the serene, angelic portraits painted of Tim in the past. Has “the little woolly lamb” who skipped out of Manchester University changed much over the years?

Tim : “Yeah, I’m born again now. I mean how do you answer a question like that? Y’know, I’m much more handsome than I ever was and more modest. No, but we’ve been through a lot of crap. A lot of strange experiences. We’ve got a lot out of James. It’s been our focal point, and the more people who wrote us off, the more it’s been, well, they’re going to have to eat humble pie.”

“There was one day when we talked about packing the whole thing in, for about an hour, but after that it was ‘We will fight them on the beaches!’ Because the music turns us on so much. It’s like we’d be having all these business problems, but the rehearsals would be brilliant. You get a song, and you lose yourself in a song and you feel fantastic. There’s no way we were going to give that up. And we knew that when we play live, we could take people to the same place.”

Last October, when the James tour came to the London T&C Club 2, they took the young dedicated and hot as f–k crowd way out to rapture and back. Frantic, climatic and ebuillent, wiht Booth losing himself totally in spasms of electric eel dancing, it was far from any creaky-jointed nearly-men display. On that kind of form, when they play at Glastonbury at the end of their June World Cup tour, then James have every chance of stealing the Happy Monday’s thunder.

James are, of course, thoroughly affronted by any suggestion that the rise of Mancunian dance society has left them a bit out in the cold.

Tim : “You don’t know how we relate to that and what we do in our private lives. Yeah, that’s how it’s perceived, but the reality, that’s a different matter. If it’s seen like that then OK, but we don’t want to part of the scene, because that isn’t going to last and there’s going to be a backlash. It’ll be fine for the Mondays and The Roses and the bands that get through, the good bands. But that’s it. And that was 1989.”

There is however, nothing blinkered about James current course. There were remix discussions going on last year with A Guy Called Gerald. Graham 808 State Massey danced-up their Come Home single although it was never given an official release. James are just smart enough to scowl at the bandwagon jumping implications of a rumoured Andy Weatherall remix of Sit Down (“It’ll make us the most un-hip band in Manchester”) and wily enough to promise that the dance mix of the already eight minute long rambling groove jam Gold Mother complete with backing vocals by Inspiral Carpets will only come out as a b-side.

It is time for the funny ideas about Booth and his band to binned for good. Whatever weight of history they have in tow, James in the 90s are not going to sink beneath the raves. They’re sleaker and groovier than ever before and Tim Booth is a match for anyone who wants to try and box him in. Well, for a lettuce-reared, caring, sensitive, sweet young Englishman he is anyway.

Do you think, Tim, you might one day write a song about, say knobbing Jodie Foster on the back of a motorbike?

Tim : “Actually, that’s the next single Knobbing! Isn’t that a crude word? I’m a bit more romantic than that. So ‘no’ is the answer to that, I mean, who would be driving for a start? And you know, crash helmets and so on, I’d never be able to keep an erection going while driving a motorbike. My technique would suffer….”

Cool as Hadd–k for sure!

Interviewer : Now on a major label, Phonogram’s Fontana, James having a hit single with How Was It For You? and the band are downstairs in our basement studio. Tim Booth on vocals, sometimes known as Maharishi Booth. Bit of a guru on the quiet

Tim : Not round my parts mate. You come down here and tell me that to my face.

Interviewer : I love reading about your dream though. Which featured,

Tim : (groans)

Interview : Well, you told the story once, it comes back to you

Tim : Yeah, the guy can’t write. He got it completely wrong as we did the interview on a train so he couldn’t hear his tape back afterwards. It’s embarrassing

Interview : But was Jed Clampett and Jim Morrisson in it? Nurse Crachett

Tim : I’m afraid so, but it had a punchline to it. It had a point to it and it didn’t read like that. It’s an old dream too as well, you know. My dreams are much more clinical nowadays since I’ve been having the treatment.

Interviewer : Did you have one last night?

Tim : That’s a very personal question isn’t it?

Interviewer : I suppose it is

Tim : How Was It For You?

Interviewer : Dreams are very personal things.

Tim : I can’t remember. I can’t remember. I’d better censor it. I think you’d get cut off on air.

Interviewer : Listen, have you had to change at all, going to a major record label? Has there been any compromise along the way?

Tim : No, because we actually recorded the LP beforehand so part of the deal with Phonogram was that they had to sign for completed masters of the LP. So we’ve just handed them the tape and they said “Yep” and so we actually haven’t had any problem like that. They’ve given us some input, some ideas that they’ve suggested, and we either say “yay” or “nay”. But they kind of seem to respect us at the moment.

Interviewer : How long that will last is anyone’s guess. Alright, a song Tim please….

James are a crazy seven-piece from Manchester who everyone used to think were vegan buddhists but weren’t really cos they’re all like really normal guys and they want to talk about the music, right, and not meditation and chunky cardigans etc. With their single How Was It For You? gliding into the Top Forty, Smash Hits slipped into its sandals and spoke to Tim Booth, singer 28, about like the James concept, man.

1. Tim Booth was born in picturesque Bradford but has lived in not so picturesque Manchester for ten years

2. He once worked in a Yorkshire brewery. “That was quite weird, quite aggressive. I don’t have a Yorkshire accent and I had to put one on. Friends of mine who’d worked there before had been beaten up because they didn’t have the right accent.”

3. James came together in 1983 and they thought their name was “very original” then. “But now it’s ten a penny, it’s disgusting.” spits Tim.

4. Touring was once a problem. “Tour promoters thought ‘James’ might be a poet, so I used to go on at concerts and pretend I was a poet, and that the audience had been conned into thinking they were seeing a band. I had to write a poem in the day and narrate it to the audience,” mutters Tim.

5. They’re always being accused of being intellectual. “I think that’s a dead end,” argues Tim. “Intellectuals tend to be people who’ve got overdeveloped brains and underdeveloped hearts.”

6. Seeing James t-shirts has saved them from bankruptcy. Lester in Beats International wore one on Top of the Pops. “We’re going to give us music and open up a retail outlet,” jests Tim. Ho, ho!

7. In the past they’ve meditated a great deal. “When you’re leading the kind of lifestyle that we lead in the band, you just need something to balance you out and you just gonna be off your head all the time.”

8. Tim thinks happiness is not a permanent state of mind. “If it is them there’s something wrong with your hormones.”

Their forthcoming album for Fontana, Gold Mother, is not merely James best studio recording so far, but the most accomplished example of what used to be called indie-rock that 1990 has seen. And as Jim Glennie says Beats International have already taken a James T-shirt to number one. All they need now is to match it with a record.

The omens are unmistakeable. The smart money says that, at long last, James are about to happen.

“This time we’re prepared to take the breaks,” Jim Glennie says. “And we weren’t in the past. That’s the difference.”

“We’ve created a situation where we could have been successful, we could have gone for it and done everything, but we didn’t, we held back. And we lost our chance.”

Today, you could get a donkey Bloggsed up in flares and Kickers and it would probably be hailed as the next wonder from the land of the Orange Buses.

Despite selling upwards of 2,000 concert tickets in most cities – more in Manchester – and despite shifting two grand’s worth of their distinctive t-shirts this week, James were virtually blacklisted by last year’s Madchester media circus.

With their back catalogue of sophisticated oblique pop, James clearly didn’t fit into the popular conception of a cartoon world filled with bowl-headed, so-called scallies berserk on horse tranquilisers and bent on mischief.

James were a Manchester band, not a Madchester band. And Madchester was about the Mondays, The Stone Roses, 808 State, Oldham’s Inspiral Carpets and a slew of promotion play-off candidates like The New Fast Automatic Daffodils.

Maybe James (est 1983) had been around a bit too long and outstayed their welcome, failing to match previous glowing references from the press with attendant hits. Or perhaps it was the Morrissey seal of approval, priceless when he bestowed it upon James in 1985 but now the equivalent of the black spot, that dropped them into the perceived no man’s land between the bright young things and the old Manchester of New Order, The Fall and The Smiths.

Either way, James fell victim to a conspiracy of silence. This rankles with guitar talent and conviction man Larry Gott.

“James is not the band Manchester forgot,” he says testily. “Once we were the media’s darlings but because we didn’t do what was expected of us (touring America with The Smiths for example) we were forgotten about. It didn’t mean anything to us. Our audiences and record sales kept growing.”

Tim Booth is also at pains to put Manchester matters into perspective.

“You have to divide what’s really going on in Manchester – the bands who know and respect each other – and what’s written in the press. The journalist conception of the Manchester scene is totally different to the reality of how the bands relate to one another which is, on the whole, very good.”

“And we are part of that. That’s why we’ve taken the Mondays and the Carpets and the Daffodils on tour; that’s why we were taken on tour by The Smiths, The Fall and New Order. It’s nothing like what’s written about by journalists from the South.”

James conspicious failure to do the business was partly due to their ill-starred three year deal with Sire Records, signed in 1985, which was so grim it nearly finished the band off. Even today, they groan at the mention of the company that promised so much – not least the chance to share a label with band favourites Talking Heads and The Ramones – and delivered nothing but misery.

Stutter and Strip Mine, their two albums for Sire, were both fine spiky offerings but each received a negligible push from a label which was more concerned with its American operations. The records duly evaporated. The band’s attitude did not help.

“We were idealistic,” says a rueful Jim. “We thought the music would win through, regardless of whether or not we did any interviews or didn’t release anything for years or whatever. It was just naivety.”

These were dispiriting times for the then four-piece James, even when the contract expired, as Larry explains with the black humour of hindsight.

“We nearly called it a day there and then, when Gavan (Whelan, James original drummer) said, Well that’s it. And we knew that whatever the next person said would decide whether it went one way or another.”

Glennie, Booth and Gott opted to soldier on, eventually recruiting new drummer Dave Baynton-Power. They returned to indie-land and Rough Trade for the singles Sit Down and Come Home and an acclaimed live album One Man Clapping. The album’s lengthy stint in the indie charts proved that there were still plenty of James fans out there, after all.

For most of 88 and 89 James paid the rent not as musicians, but, bizarrely, from the proceeds of the range of James t-shirts designed by a fan in London. The shirts have ‘Ja’ on the front, ‘m’ on one arm and ‘e’ on the back and ‘s’ on the other arm. ‘Poor as Fuck’ might have been more appropriate.

“It was ridiculous” recalls Booth. “While we were producing Gold Mother last year, none of us even had cassette machines that worked properly to listen to the masters. Our record players were useless too. We’d been on £30 a week for about seven years and we had no money for the necessary technology.”

This is unlikely to be the state of affairs from now on. It’s early days, but the new seven-piece James are enjoying a productive relationship with Fontana.

The fiery How Was It For You?, first fruit of the new deal, shifted 15,000 copies in the North West alone in its first week of release and the label is doing all it can to ensure the record’s chart success.

Tim Palmer, who worked on the re-release of the House Of Love’s Shine On, had remixed How Was It For You? for single consumption, with James blessing, and Fontana are releasing the track in a variety of formats, with bewildering permutations of exclusive extra tracks.

James, though not entirely happy with this chart chicanery, have spent enough time of the metaphorical arses to realise that some compromises are worth making.

“It’s a fix really,” Glennie concedes. “But at the moment, we need that push. Hopefully, when we’re in a situation when we don’t need it anymore we can stop bloody doing it.”

Of course, there are remixes and there are remixes. And it’s something of a surprise that James, stalwarts of the pre-Acid house, no disco-dancing, indie-kid brigade are taking the plung with a dancefloor remix of their next release.

Paul Oakenfold and Andy Weatherall (the men who made Happy Mondays dance) are possibles to rework Come Home as is Inspirals and Erasure remixer Flood. And somewhere in the James tape cupboard is a remix by Graham Massey of 808 State, which, reckons Jim. is, “more bassy but too muffled to release.”

The band had it done last summer – “When it wasn’t sofashionable,” quips Booth.

“Yeah, dance mixes are a departure from what we were doing two years ago, But since then the Mondays and Fools Gold and countless others have proved that there are no longer two camps of dance and rock, that it doesn’t matter which area you work in as long as the song itself is good.”

Inspired by the distant sight of Strangeways Prison’s wrecked rotunda, Jim and Larry toy with the idea of a “Strangeways Rooftops Dance Mix” of Come Home with the former indie hit’s spiralling hook replaced by incesssant police sirens and an opening sample of a rioter shouting “Good morning, Manchester!” All agree it would be mega-classic. They want to call it Come Down, but realise that then the song wouldn’t make sense.

This month’s Gold Mother is a measured, tempting collection with confidence to spare. The fractured wit and melodic inventiveness of Stutter and Strip Mine are still there but the context is new, with recruits Mark Hunter (keyboards), Andy Diagram (trumpet) and Saul Davies (everything but specifically violin) bringing extra colour to what are some of James finest songs.

How Was It For You? and Come Home are already well known as wild things with hearts of ice and Top Of The World finds a pitch of poignancy that James have never reached before.

The textures are many and varied, the sentiments intriguing and more readily intelligible if not exactly commercialised. Weak links are few: this is how James always should have sounded.

Booth’s lyric-writing, noted for its tendency to sharp contrasts of specifics and abstracts, has also moved into focus. God Only Knows is hilarious, skewering religious head-the-balls of the Swaggart and Bakker school with some cruelly apposite sampling from Satellite God-slot programmes and the priceless lines ‘If God is in his image, Almighty must be small”. Booth does not bother to disguise his contempt for today’s cheap goons who pass for religious authority.

“If God made man in his image then it doesn’t reflect too well on God, does it?” he grins. “Man is a total screw-up and if there is a spirit or meaning of life then man clearly has no idea what it is. He is much better keeping his mouth shut rather than saying, Follow me as your intermediary.”

Maybe the title track gives the most telling clue to James present concerns. Gold Mother deals with the birth of Tim’s son Ben in graphic technicolour, but it’s no lame bout of new-man drivel. The song is positively peculiar, an angular bass-driven chant with backing vocals by everyone’s favourite obstetricians the Inspiral Carpets.

“Have you ever seen a woman giving birth?” asks Tim.

Only on the telly.

“It’s not the same on the telly”

Back at the James offices, the aforementioned Ben is having a messy late lunch and the band are poring over a limited edition of How Was It For You? in a particularly desirable metallic sleeve. It comes with a free James logo stencil, which Jim reckons will kill off their T-shirt sales in one fell blow.

Talk turns to which of Larry’s guitars will look best on the inevitable Top of the Pops slot, and to the Gold Mother tour, which begins this week, coinciding with the World Cup. Instead of a support band, James will be screening the match of the evening with a DJ on at the same time, so you can dance or watch the game. Or both.

“It’s not as if we’re a great football band or anything but people will want to see the game, which seems fair enough,” says the obliging Tim.

JAMES, currently enjoying their first Top 40 hit with ‘How Was It For You?’,have announced changes to their forthcoming tour, including the addition of two nights at Blackpool’s Empress Ballroom (August 3 & 4), scene of The Stone Roses shows last summer.

Special guests are to be confirmed and tickets are priced £7 from the usual agents. They now start their tour at Aberdeen Ritzy (June 3), and not the previous date, with their re-arranged Irish shows taking place at Dublin McGonagles (27) and Belfast Queens University (28). Their new LP ‘Gold Mother’ is set for release at the beginning of June and they appear at WOMAD this weekend (May 18-20)

Besides James, other acts appearing at this years WOMAD Festival in Morecambe Bay (May 18-20) include Gil Scott-Heron,Thomas Mapfumo And The Blacks Unlimited, Dick Gaughan, Arrow and Jah Wobble And The Invaders Of The Heart.

JAMES, currently enjoying their first Top 40 hit with “How Was It For You”, are to headline the Blackpool Empress Ballroom, the same venue The Stone Roses sold out last summer. James are playing two shows at the venue, on August 3 and 4. Tickets, priced £7, are available from the usual agents. Special guests and DJs will be confirmed nearer the time.

James have also rearranged their Irish shows which now take place at Dublin McGonagles on June 27 and Belfast Queen’s University (28). The tour also now starts at Aberdeen Ritzy on June 3, not 4 as previously announced. The band’s new LP, “Gold Mother”, is set for release by Fontana at the beginning of June.

JAMES release their new album,’Gold Mother’, on Fontana on June 4.

The eagerly awaited artefact contains ten tracks, including the band’s recent hit How Was It For You, plus Come Home, which they previously released as a single for their last label Rough Trade.

The other songs on the album are: ‘Government Walls’, ‘God Only Knows’, ‘How Much Suffering’, ‘Crescendo’, ‘Hang On’,’Walking The Ghost’, ‘Gold Mother’ and ‘Top Of The World.

And adding to the band’s reputation, which has been helped along by the craze for all things Madchester, there’s a guest appearance from men of the moment lnspiral Carpets, who popped on to record some backing vocals on the title track. The album was produced by the group along with Nick Garside.

James have added a date to their June tour,at St Andrews Fife University on June 4.

This is the band itinerary from 1990 James June World Cup Tour.

The 28-page programme from the 1990 Gold Mother tour featured band bios, interviews and pictures. This copy is signed by the band. Click on an image to browse the tour programme.

Out on Fontana on June 25, the single is taken from their “Gold Mother” LP which entered the national chart at 16. It’s backed by the previously unreleased “Fire Away” and a live version of “Stutter” recorded at Manchester Apollo last year.

Weekend tickets for the band’s shows at Blackpool Empress Ballroom on August 3 and 4 are on sale for £12 from usual agents. The band have had to cancel shows in Dublin on June 27 and Belfast (28) due to recording commitments.

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Front Man with James, Tim Booth was THE sensation of this year’s Glastonbury Festival. James have a new single, ‘Come Home’ and a new album, ‘Gold Mother’, out now on Fontana

WHERE DID YOU GO LAST NIGHT?

To bed

WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU THOUGHT OF BEFORE YOU WENT TO SLEEP?

I’m too tired to sleep.

WHAT DID YOU DREAM?

That I was asleep dreaming I was awake.

WHAT WILL YOU DO TODAY?

Move home.

WHAT IS YOUR GREATEST FEAR?

Lingering pain.

WHO ARE YOUR FAVOURITE SINGERS/MUSICIANS?

Nick Cave, James.

IF YOU COULD BE SOMEONE ELSE, ALIVE OR DEAD, WHO WOULD YOU BE?

Who wants to be dead? God.

WHAT ANNOYS YOU THE MOST?

Guilt trips.

WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER YOUR GREATEST STRENGTH?

Optimistic determination.

WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER YOUR GREATEST WEAKNESS?

Guilt trips me up.

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE RECORDS?

“Horses”; “Mercy Seat”

WHAT WAS THE LAST ACT YOU SAW LIVE?

World Party.

WHAT DO YOU ALWAYS CARRY WITH YOU?

A hanky.

WHO WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO KILL IF YOU COULD?

Thatcher; Waddington; Terra Blanche; Alistair Burnett; Paul Daniels (getting petty here).

WHAT WOULD YOU FIND DOWN THE BACK OF YOUR SOFA?

Keys, coins, my wallet (I hope)

WHO WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO MEET?

Doris Lessing; Patti Smith; Sam Sheppard; Robert Anton Wilcox.

WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING AT THE MOMENT?

“A Confederacy Of Dunces”.

WHAT WAS THE LAST FILM YOU SAW?

“Jesus of Montreal”.

WHAT DO YOU NEVER MISS ON TV?

“Cheers”.

WHAT DID YOU LAST RECEIVE IN THE POST?

Bills.

WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE WORD?

Fingers.

WHAT WOULD YOU SAY TO AN ALIEN?

“Take me with you”.

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?

Paid professionals: Connelly; Martin; Williams; Wright; Hegley; Redmond; Elton; Atkinson; “Cheers”; “Roseanne”.

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?

Being human

HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO DIE?

Gently.

WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE YOUR EPITAPH TO BE?

“Nice try”

Their T-shirt went to number one in Britain and now JAMES aim to follow it up with their debut LP for a major. So how far are they the band that Manchester forgot, or just a Madchester crazed media overlooked?

May Day in Manchester. Thermometers are nudging the 80 degrees mark and everyone’s stupid with the heat. It’s too sweaty too wear flares, so the city’s youth have left their flapping dungarees at home in favour of surf jams and questionable Bermuda shorts. So much for the Rainy City – this is more like Torremolinos.

On a postage-stamp of parkland near their city centre offices, the founder members of Manchester’s best kept secret lounge on dry grass. Today’s Today says that record smog levels make sunbathing a high-risk activity, akin to changing a lightbulb while standing in a bucket of water, but James couldn’t give a bugger.

The charming and amiable trio of Jim Glennie, Larry Gott and singer/wordsmith Tim booth are keen to relax – a wise move considering that their workload is about to increase considerably. After nearly eight years of diligent gigging, an unhappy marriage with a major label followed by 18 months in limbo, a succession of managers and enough false starts to wear down the most patient of artists… all these trials are about to pay off.

Their forthcoming debut album for Fontana, ‘Gold Mother’, is not merely James’ best studio recording so far, but the most accomplished example of what used to be called Indie-rock that 1990 has seen. And as bassist Glennie says, Beats International have already taken a James T-shirt to number one in Britain. All they need to do now is to match it with a record.

The omens are unmistakable. The smart money says that, at long last, James are about to happen. ’’This time we’re prepared to take the breaks,” Jim Glennie says. “And we weren’t in the past. That’s the difference. We’ve created a situation where we could have been successful, we could have gone for it and done everything, but we didn’t, we held back. And we lost our chance.” Today you could get a donkey ‘Blogged up’ in flares and Kickers and it would probably be hailed as the next wonder from the land of the Orange Buses.

Despite selling upwards of 2,000 concert tickets in most cities – more in Manchester – and despite shifting two grand’s worth of their distinctive T-shirts this week, James were virtually blacklisted by last year’s Madchester media circus.

With their back catalogue of sophisticated oblique pop, James clearly didn’t fit into the conception of a cartoon world filled with bowl-headed, so called scallies berserk on horse tranquillisers and bent on mischief. James were a Manchester band, not a Madchester band. And Madchester was about the Monday’s, The Stone Roses, 808 State, Oldham’s Inspiral Carpets and a slew of promotion play-off candidates like The New Fast Automatic Daffodils.

Maybe James (est 1983) had been around a bit too long and outstayed their welcome, failing to match previous glowing references from the press with attendant hits. Or perhaps it was the Morrissey seal of approval, priceless when he bestowed it on James in 11985 but now the equivalent of the Black Spot, that dropped them into the perceived no man’s land between the bright young things and the old Manchester of New Order, The Fall and The Smiths.

Either way, James fell victim to a conspiracy of silence. This rankles with guitar talent and conviction man Larry Gott. “James is not the band that Manchester forgot,” he says testily. “Once we were the medias darlings, but because we didn’t do what they expected of us (touring America with The Smiths for instance) we were forgotten about. It didn’t mean anything to us. Our audiences and record sales kept growing.”

Tim Booth is also at pains to put Manchester matters in perspective. “You have to divide what’s really going on in Manchester – the bands who know and respect each other – and what’s written in the press. The journalistic conception of the Manchester scene is totally different to the reality of how the bands relate to one another which is, on the whole, very good. And we are part of that. That’s why we’ve taken the Mondays and the Carpets and the Daffodils on tour; that’s why we were taken on tour by The Smiths, The Fall and New Order. It’s nothing like what’s written about by journalists from the South.”

James’ conspicuous failure to do the business was partly due to their ill-starred three year deal with Sire Records, signed in 1985, which was so grim it nearly finished the band off. Even today they groan at the mention of the company that promised so much – not least to share a label with band favourites Talking Heads and The Ramones – and delivered nothing but misery. ‘Stutter’ and ‘Strip-mine’, their two albums for Sire, were both fine, spiky offerings, but each received a negligible push from the label which was more concerned with its American operations. The records duly evaporated. The bands’ attitude did not help. ‘We were idealistic”, says a rueful Jim. ”We thought the music would win through, regardless of whether or not we we did interviews, or didn’t release anything for years or whatever. It was just naivety.”

These were dispiriting times for the then four-piece James, even when the contract expired, as Larry explains with the black humour of hindsight. ”We nearly called it a day there and then, when Gavin (Whelan, James’ original drummer) said, well that’s it. And we knew that whatever the next person said would decide whether it went one way or another.” Glennie, Booth and Gott opted to soldier on, eventually recruiting new drummer Dave Baynton-Power. They returned to indie-land and Rough Trade for the singles ‘Sit Down’ and ‘Come Home’ and an acclaimed live album, ‘One Man Clapping’. The album’s lengthy stint in the indie charts proved that there were still plenty of James fans out there after all.

For most of ’88 and ’89 James paid the rent not as musicians but bizarrely with the proceeds of the range of James T-shirts designed by a fan in London. The T-shirts have a ‘Ja’ on the front, ‘m’ on one arm and ‘e’ on the back and ‘s’ on the other arm. ‘Poor As Fuck’ might have been more appropriate. ‘It was ridiculous,” recalls Booth. “While we were producing ‘Gold Mother’ last year none of us even had cassette machines that worked properly to listen to the masters. Our record players were useless too. We’d been on £30 a week for about seven years and we had no money for the necessary technology.

This is unlikely to be the state of affairs from now on. It’s early days, but the new seven-piece James are enjoying a productive relationship with Fontana. The fiery ‘How Was It For You’, first fruit of the new deal shifted 15,000 copies in the North West alone during its first week of release and the label is doing it all it can to ensure the record’s chart success. Tim Palmer, who worked on the release of The House Of Love’s ‘Shine On’ has remixed ‘How Was It’ for single consumption with James’ blessings and Fontana are releasing the track in a variety of formats with bewildering permutations of exclusive extra tracks.

James, though not entirely happy with this chart chicanery have spent enough time on their metaphorical arses to realise that some compromises are worth making. “It is a fix really,” Glennie concedes. “But at this moment we do need that push. Hopefully when we’re in a situation where we don’t need it anymore we can stop bloody doing it.” Of course there are remixes and there are remixes. And it’s something of a surprise that James, stalwarts of the pre-Acid House, no disco-dancing, indie-kid brigade, are taking the plunge with a dancefloor remix for their next release.
Paul Oakenfold and Andy Weatherall (the men who made Happy Mondays dance) are possibles to re-work ‘Come Dance’ as is Inspirals and Erasure remixer Flood. And somewhere in the James tape cupboard is a remix by Graham Massey of 808 State which, reckons Jim, is more “bassy but too muffled to release.” The band had it done last summer – “When it wasn’t so fashionable, “quips Booth. “Yeah, dance mixes are a departure from what we were doing two years ago. But since then the Mondays and ‘Fools Gold’ and countless others have proved that there are no longer two camps of dance and rock, that it doesn’t matter which are you work in as long as the song itself is good.”

Inspired by the distant sight of Strangeways Prison’s wrecked Rotunda, Jim and larry toy with the idea of a ‘Strangeways Rooftop Dance Mix’ of ‘Come Home’ with the former indie hit’s spiralling hook replaced by incessant police sirens and an opening sample of a rioter shouting, “Good Morning Manchester!” All agree it would be mega-classic. They want to call it ‘Come Down’ but realise that then the song wouldn’t make sense.

This month’s Gold Mother is a measured, tempting collection with confidence to spare. The fractured wit and melodic inventiveness of ‘Stutter’ and ‘Strip-mine’ are still there but the context is new with recruits Mark Hunter (keyboards), Andy Diagram (trumpet) and Saul Davies (everything but specifically violin) bringing extra colour to what are some of James’ finest songs. ‘How Was It For You?’ and ‘Come Home’ are already well-known as wild things with heart and ice and ‘Top Of The World’ finds a pitch of poignancy that James have never reached before. The textures are many and varied, the sentiments intriguing and more readily intelligible if not exactly commercialised. Weak links are few: this is how James always should have sounded.

Booth’s lyric writing, noted for its tendency to sharp contrasts of specifics and abstracts has also moved into focus. ‘God Only Knows’ is hilarious, skewering religious head-the-balls of the Swaggart and Bakker school with some cruelly apposite sampling from Satellite God-slot programmes and the priceless lines, “If God is in his image/Almighty must be small”. Booth does not bother to disguise his contempt for today’s cheap goons who pass for religious authority. “If God made man in his image then it doesn’t reflect too well on God does it?” he grins. “Man is a total screw-up and if there is a spirit or meaning of life then man clearly has no idea what it is. He is much better off keeping his mouth shut rather than saying, Follow me as your intermediary.”
Maybe the title track gives the most telling clue to James’ present concerns. ‘Gold Mother’ deals with the birth of Tim’s son Ben in graphic Technicolor but it’s no lame bout of new-man drivel. The song is positively peculiar, an angular bass-driven chant with backing vocals by everyone’s favourite obstetricians the Inspiral Carpets. “Have you ever seen a woman giving birth?” asks Tim…. Only on the telly….” It’s not the same on the telly……”

Back at the James offices, the aforementioned Ben is having a messy late lunch and the band are poring over a limited edition of ‘How Was It For You?’ in a particularly desirable metallic sleeve. It comes with a free James logo stencil which Jim reckons will kill off their T-shirt sales in one fell blow. Talk turns to which of Larry’s guitars will look best on the inevitable Top Of The Pops slot and to the Gold Mother tour which begins this week coinciding with the World Cup. Instead of a support band, James will be screening the match of the evening with a DJ on at the same time so you can dance or watch the game. Or both.

“It’s not as if we’re a great football band or anything but people will want to see the game which seems fair enough,” says the obliging Tim.

JAMES (above) have reportedly been offered the support slot to DAVID BOWIE at his Maine Road gig in Manchester on August 7.

The band, currently in the Top 40 with a remix of ‘Come Home’, are set to play the major show, although there was no official comment from the group as NME went to press.

The James story follows rumours that the INSPIRAL CARPETS had been offered one of the Bowie support slots for his two dates at Milton Keynes Bowl. They turned the gig down because of their headlining appearance at the Reading Festival later in August.

They used to dress up in muesli and eat sandals whilst meditating on their heads, but now they’re a gleaming multi-membered pop combo. Are James jessies or the finest live band in Britain? Stuart Maconie jumps on their tour bus and finds himself in teen pop heaven (!!!)

“Two weeks ago they said ‘We’ve got the Railway Children coming down here today’ and ‘I thought ‘Bloody Hell! Jenny Agutter and all that lot from that film’. Then they said to me ‘James will be here afternoon’ so I thought ‘James who?’ Was that two sugars, did you say?

PC68 is clearly the odd good apple that gets the whole force a bad name; a fine man whose notion of community policing extends to making coffee for journalists and keeping you up to date with the World Cup scores. His beat, happily, takes in that part of downtown Sheffield which includes the HMV shop and thus, it is he who is called upon to cast a firm but paternal eye over the drooling drug nympho teenies whenever rock phenomena such as Springsteen or Edsel Auctioneer are in town for a ‘signing’.

Downstairs in the shop, a disparate crowd of young folk are gathering excitedly to have their CDs, shoes, faces and tea towels signed by their favourite group whose current glorious ascent is testimony to the powers of human spirit and the importance of good t-shirts. Eighteen months ago, James were matchwood on the cruel and rocky shores of pop success; indie art-rockers (so the theory went) who had been left behind in the headless chicken rush for new good times.

When such things mattered, they had the King’s Ear, the Papal blessing – Morrissey liked them. But as the 80s ground to a halt and the spectre of disco entered many a polytechnic common room, so James became the sensitive Zen vegans who couldn’t dance properly and were not prepared to learn.

Now, in the summer of 1990, there are few more exciting or original groups on the planet. On record, they have become brazen, bold and eclectic; live, they are a revelation, of which much, much later. For now, I have seen the future of multi-cultural, chart-friendly, stadium pop/folk metal and its first name is James.

“The embarrassing thing about signing teenage girls t-shirts is that they always want you to sign them halfway up the back and you always end up in trouble with the bra strap. I wonder if that’s the idea….”

Saul Davies, if my calculations are correct, will have to get used to this for there is much of it ahead. Saul is one of the four new personnel whose introduction into the James camp has coincided (though it’s no real coincidence) with the spectacular renaissance in the group’s fortunes. When he and Dave, Mark and Andy joined the band, James were firmly in neutral and beleagured by a welter of preconceptions that had James backed into a corner. James the academic, aloof dilettantes, the bloodless folkies, the mantra chanting recluses.

Most of these were wrong but you could see how they had gained currency. From the outset, James had nurtured a peculiar style that invited comparisons with both folk, indiepop, The Birthday Party and other radicals, and even high life and tribal rhythms. They were touted as new and unusual white, Northern hopes; heirs apparent to the vacant Smiths throne.

There was a flurry of front covers, and a series of interviews in which the odd reference to Buddhism, meditation and alternative healing was to provide pundits with a dream of an angle; James as brilliant rock weirdos. And what was to make them intriguing and individual in 85 would have turned into a mocking albatross by the end of the decade. Those silly buggers with the carrot juice and cardies who never made it.

But such depressing thoughts seem inappropriate as we cruise through the Yorkshire streets sipping our Aqua Libres, idly pondering which CD to play or which video to peruse. Thanks to a logarithmically expanding fan base, a hit single and a burgeoning reputation as a live act of extraordinary power, the days of draughty Transits littered wiht old banana milk cartons are over.

Availing myself of the sumptuous tour bus comforts, I introduce myself to James. The central core of Tim Booth, Jim Glennie and Larry Gott has been augmented by Saul, a personable multi-instrumentalist who is probably sick of being called impish; Mark, the tactiturn genius of the keyboards; Dave, the AWOL drummer; and trumpeter Andy, once a member of the The Diagram Brothers, a curious group who I practically venerated in the early 80s. For the entire two days I think of bringing the subject up only to think better of it. I hope this explains my odd behaviour.

We’re on route to the venue having completed the successful in-store PA. These are invariably strange affairs, made stranger in this instance by James insistence on playing an acoustic set. So we are treated to Tim singing of global annihilation whilst wedged on the counter between tape cleaning kits and Kylie posters. The place is packed, though, and it does afford an interesting glimpse at the James fan of the 90s. And they’re young. Horribly young. Except for the old ones.

Many wear hooded tops, flared trousers and have faces curtained with floppy fringes obviously in the throes of geographical adolescent crush. Others are more conventionally alternative and have albums by Echo and the Bunnymen back at the flat. Their enthusiasm is as infectious as it is justified as they queue patiently to have their merchandise autographed and pass the time of day with their heroes. Two hulking, neanderthal bodybuilders who’ve popped in for Tina Turner albums stand bemused in the midst of it.

Many of the kids clutch copies of Gold Mother, latest and undoubtedly best James album. Fleshed out by the additional members, the sound is now free of the slightly edgy diffidence. The Jamesian quest for originality is still evident but so is the desire to make a full-blooded rock racket. It even garnered a bona fide hit in How Was It For You?, a straightforward, unreconstructed knees up of a rock tune that successfully completed a string of excellent ‘nearly’ singles: What For, Sit Down and Come Home, the latter now set for re-release.

At the soundcheck, James go through the complicated daily routine of choosing tonight’s set. They try Crescendo and declare it to be a ‘bloody mess’. They perform an excellent God Only Knows and still seem unconvinced. They run through a lovely version of The Velvet Underground’s Sunday Morning (admittedly a song that could withstand an Erasure version) which I love and they dismiss as ‘shite’. Being an unconventional pop group, ie not having your nightly performance worked out down to the last witty ad lib, clearly has its trials and I leave them to it.

Over the catering crew’s delightful strawberry meringues, word goes round that tonight’s gig is sold out. Saul throws up his hands in mock horror. “Oh no, we’ve sold out! I knew we shouldn’t have released How Was It For You?” There probably are poor benighted souls who think this way (indeed, some of them work on music papers) but fortunately there are thousands of others to whom James are a new band and come unfettered by associations. Unsurprisingly, all of James turn out to be extremely nice folk indeed. Tim and I realise we have a shared love of the Lake District fells and I am quietly impressed and dead jealous when he tells me of travelling Helvelyn’s Striding Edge in a blizzard.

The bar is filling up with many of the same faces that were at the record shop earlier. They wear their freshly signed t-shirts as trophies, as proof that they are privy to the inner sanctum. James have always had a considerable live support but something indefinable and inexplicable has happened. The Manchester connection, though powerful, is not enough to account for this broadening of appeal, this new devotion.

And within two hours, I know why. I have a confession to make. I’ve been a little lukewarm about James in the past. Hymn From A Village, Johnny Yen, Scarecrow, interesting stuff I agree, but…. Maybe it was just me being suspicious but I could never really get past the wilful awkwardness of some of their songs and their seeming substitution of bug-eyed dementia for genuine passion.

In case you have harboured these thoughts yourself and have not had the pleasure of the new James, then let me, as Peter Purves would say, enlighten you. James have metamorphosed into an extraordinary rock group, a live event of breathtaking force. The individuality remains but with it comes grit, pluck, fire and brimstone.

As the siren riff of Come Home plays over the slide show of James banners, the expectation is palpable. They begin and immediately you’re struck by the imposing weight of the sound and the sense of self-assurance. Hang On and Government Walls are the work of a band not afraid to make a big beautiful sound, an intoxicating tumult.

Bring A Gun and Suffering are raucous and intense rock songs, with a physical presence most speed metal bands would envy. They take chances with impunity, dropping into the spectral atmospherics of Walking The Ghost or chancing their arm with an untitled new song building on relentless repetition and the interplay between an agitated violin and a bruised, blue-black trumpet.

There then follows a kind of mini greatest hits segment that sends the assembled bonkers with glee. How Was It For You? leads into the frenetic, primitivist Johnny Yen complete with ad lib along the lines of “Aren’t you just sick of all those translucent Manchester bands” If concessions to modernity (Mondays drumbeat, splash of house piano) have been made in Come Home they’ve been made with an elan that you can’t fault.

Sit Down; the new James anthem brings legions onto the stage, forcing Tim on to the speaker cabinets for fear of being crushed. In case anyone thought they were playing to the gallery for cheap applause, they finish with Stutter, a nightmare blast of psycho metal. The image retained is that of Andy’s wildly flailing searchlight illuminating corners of the hall, of Tim’s frantic dervlish dance, of Saul roaming the stage like a man possessed and of a pop group at the height of their powers. You could say I was impressed.

I gave it a week. It could have been a trick of the light or something in the lager, I figured. The James World Cup tour finished up at the Birmingham Hummingbird and I proposed to be there. To get some more of this addictive stuff and to sit down with James and a tape recorder. The night in Sheffield had ended in champagne, autograph hunters, eight different types of soft cheese and a curious coach journey to Manchester where the video entertainment came courtesy of Stallone and First Blood, not perhaps an automatic first choice as most people’s idea of fave James viewing.

James arrive in beautiful downtown Brum in good spirits, having had several good gigs in the interim, including one particularly special, emotional shindig at the Liverpool Royal Court. The World Cup tour proper ends tonight, the 20 gigs in 23 nights, although there is Glastonbury and some Irish gigs later. Are these extraordinary scenes of fervour and mass communion seen every night? Tim Booth laughs.

“Not always. God knows what it is that starts them off. I suppose certain songs like What For and Sit Down are very warm and they invite an emotional response. But in other songs like Come Home, you don’t get the same singalong quality, it’s darker… ‘After 30 years I’ve become my fears…..’ But, yes, often the audience seem to get involved in an almost U2 kind of way.”

You see, this has been bothering me. Though there’s nothing of the bombastic or messianistic about James, the last show I saw that had a similar feel to it was a Simple Minds concert. The same sense that for the crowd, and band, this was more than a collection of pop songs played loud but implied some celebration of import. Is Tim insulted by this comparison?

“No because I know what you mean. We’ve always had it, even though in the past the audiences have been a bit thinner on the ground. In Manchester, it’s been a celebration for four years. There’ve been times when we’ve had to stop playing because the crowd was singing so loud it was putting us off! But in the past this never got reported.”

“On stage, it’s a performance but it’s also a reflection of ourselves. Sometimes we don’t want to do the nice songs, we want to do the heavy ones with the nasty lyrics. Then the audience aren’t invited to join in, it’s more like ‘witness this’. We like those as well, though the sound people say ‘that was weird’.

“This tour I’ve encouraged people to sing Sit Down. In London they wouldn’t. But I guess I shouldn’t really try, it’s a bit of a cliche. So sometimes it’s a celebration – uplifting and rewarding. Other times, we release demons.”

Larry : “There used to be a real barrier between us and the audience. It was a criticism that was thrown at us a lot … that we were separate, somehow insular and aloof with all this improvising on stage and stuff. And we didn’t realise because we were concentrating so hard. In effect it was like a practice room with 600 people.”

Jim continues this rueful reflection. “We were much more self conscious then. Much more vulnerable. Going on stage was terrifying because we were right on the line, taking real risks…. and sometimes it would go badly wrong. It would fall apart and we’d all freak out, all turn round and retreat, heads down and face the drummer. Try and get off quick.”

How about the audiences themselves? Who comes to James gigs these days?

Tim : “Well on this tour it’s been young girls. Loads of them. That’s certainly never happened before. I can’t remember when it started…..”

Saul interrupts. “Basically it’s been since I joined the band, hasn’t it?”

Larry : “I think partly because we never made it, our records have become very dear to people. It’s as if there have been a lot of people quietly rooting for James who are now coming out of the closets.”

Jim : “It seems to go in pockets around the country. In Glasgow and Norwich, it’s older people. You can see the odd grey hair in the audience. But you go elsewhere and there’s these really young girls down the front.”

I ask whether they are beginning to get tired of hearing that James areon the verge of stardom. Larry is quick to reply. “What, after seven years of it, you mean?”

Tim takes up the thread. “No, it’s very different now. This is it. In the past our music was often quite skeletal and difficult. But now there are seven of us, working hard and the sound has become more accessible. Fleshed out and huge. Like Johnny Yen, which has always been a good song has now become an anthem.

“There’s a real wave of support now. The biggest we’ve ever had,” continues Jim. “You definitely get the feeling something is happening.”

Tim : “It’s a new band. I’ve wanted this for so long but we were never able to find sympathetic musicians. Now we have. I wanted to change the name to emphasize this. But I’m glad we didn’t now because it’s become a good name again after a period of being terribly out of fashion.”

Larry : “I’m glad we kept the name too. For me, it’s like The Fall. They’ve gone through so many changes but they are still The Fall. The same spirit persists. And we’re still James. It’s just that now there are seven of us playing to the same principles that the four of us once had.”

Jim : “For me, changing the name was about destroying the preconceptions that people had about us. It was going to be a way of saying ‘Look we’re back and we’re completely different. Forget all that bollocks you read in the past.'”

And what preconceptions might those be, I ask innocently. Jim eyes me with a wry smile.

“I don’t really like to repeat them because it only helps to perpetuate them. You know that in the past we’ve been associated with…….” Tim clamps a hand across Jim’s mouth and doesn’t remove it until he’s certain Glennie isn’t about too say anything too incriminating. “… some softer areas of music. Yes, we do have our quiet moments. But really, we play half a dozen heavy metal songs in the set and people still say we’re a folk band. How can anyone who plays a song like Stutter be described as a ‘folk band’? It’s as if people are desperate not to confuse the issue. ‘Look you’re vegetarians, we suspect that you’re Buddhists, you do the odd acoustic number. You’re a folk band!”

Larry : “It’s like touring with The Smiths. We did that specifically to destroy the endless Smiths comparisons. We thought that by going out and playing with them every night, we’d hammer home the point that we were nothing like them. But it backfired. It just made the association stronger.”

Tim elaborates on this theme. “At the time the things that Morrissey said were very flattering and we were very grateful but when we didn’t make it, it became this millstone around our necks that we had to put up with for five years.”

James, undoubtedly, are a group reborn. They have not disowned their past but they have built something completely new from its foundations. At what point did this rebirth occur?

Tim : “In some ways it was external events like coming off Sire and Gavin (ex-drummer) leaving. That was a stimulus. We’d wanted more people in the band for ages.”

Jim : “We tried everybody. Ron Johnson. Blokes from the Halle Orchestra. Clint from the Inspiral Carpets. But it never seemed to quite work.”

Then Tim makes a shock admission. “You see I’ve always been a big fan of Bruce Springsteen live. I’ve seen him a few times and I’ve always been blown away by the real depth of talent within his band. That’s something I’ve wanted for James but it never seemed to work until this year. It all fell together.

“Andy’s really the most freelance of the four. He’s got his jazz band. Dave was suspicious because he’d been badly ripped of in the past. And in the beginning he had to join on trust because there was no money to pay him with. At the end of the first tour I think he was amazed when we paid him. Mark is extremely talented but so quiet that for a year we didn’t know whether he was enjoying himself or not. (He also has a sense of humour. In the tour programme, he lists his least attractive trait as being ‘loudmouth and pushy’) And Saul was spotted by Larry, doing his bit in a get-up-and-improvise club.

And how did Saul feel, I wonder, about his discovery, a la the Human League girls?

“Well, it came at a particularly good time for me as I was doing absolutely nothing. Indeed, I was up a particular creek without a certain implement. I’d never played on a stage in my life and within two weeks I was playing to 2000 people at the Free Trade Hall. I gradually learnt stagefright.”

It would seem to me that only a person stupider than a very stupid thing could not be enchanted by the new James. But have there been any mealy mouthed cries of ‘sell out’?

Tim : “Well, there have been the reviews. For the first time in our career, we were landed with a whole batch of pretty vicious reviews saying ‘what a good LP Stutter was’ which, of course, no one said at the time.”

Larry : “It’s ironic really, this talk of ‘selling out’ because we never saw ourselves as being particularly oblique at the time. We always wanted to be popular as well as experimental. An esoteric pop group. We thought we were accessible when really we weren’t. Stutter has its difficult moments, though a lot of it was naivety. We didn’t realise that there was anything odd about songs with no choruses.”

But, around the time of the Stripmining LP, things had reached a low ebb. Faced with public indifference and an uncooperative record company, there must have been a strong case for packing it all in. Larry pales visibly.

“There was one point. Sire had pretty much refused to do anything with What For and our management then couldn’t seem to do anything. I remember the four of us being in a cafe and I think it was Gavan who said ‘well, that’s it then’ and I think it all swung on the next remark. But fortunately someone said something to the effect of ‘let’s show the bastards’. I knew I wasn’t prepared to be told that my career was over by some bloke in an office in America who knew nothing about James.”

But did you ever feel, like many others did, that James had had their chance?

Tim : “Not really. We knew our music was improving. We were always confident that we’d be one of the biggest groups in the world. So we waited with a kind of arrogant patience.”

Cynics might suggest that your rocketing popularity has more to do with a general infatuation with all things Mancunian rather than your own qualities.

Larry : “Are we seen as part of that scene? I’m not sure that we are. There may be some overlap but I don’t think that it counts for very much.”

Tim : “When we toured with the Mondays well before this Manchester thing, we were beginning to get big audiences and a great vibe. You can’t win. Someone said ‘Oh you’re getting popular now because The Smiths had gone,’ but The Smiths have been gone for years now. So then it’s ‘well, The Stone Roses are doing well’. How can you argue with that?

And are these the happpiest times ever for the James gang?

Tim : “Musically, yes. My personal life is in a shambles. But everything to do with the band is very exciting and uplifting at the moment.”

And does the imminent threat of fame appeal to you?

“It used to frighten us; back in the days when everyone was saying it was bound to happen. But then it passed us by. We thought ‘we’ll never know’. Now we can’t wait. I’m getting used to all that strange business about feeling watched all the time. Being asked for autographs in nightclubs. And then there’s the sex……”

Pardon?

“The feeling of it being around all the time. The constant availability. It’s both very frightening and very exciting.”

I bet. That night in Birmingham the James World Cup Tour 1990 came to an exhilirating end. I was converted for the second time in a week. The air crackled. The rafters rang. And by Sit Down the band gave up and simply let the crowd sing the chorus in proof that sometimes pop music can still be powerfully affecting without resort to schmaltz or overblown, fake sentiment.

Backstage there is an intoxicating, gentle euphoria. For me, there is the joyous realisation that pop music doesn’t have to pick its spots and pull some potato-faced sneer in the mirror of its mum and dad’s house to be wildly, dangerously brilliant. Backstage, a hugely, tipsily pregnant woman gets Tim to sign the stomach wherein resides her unborn child. Is this making you feel sick, rock n rollers? Good. You’ll be getting a hell of a lot sicker before this party is over.

On a park bench blistered and worn by exposure to decades of Mancunian rainfall, Jim Glennie and I sit, talk and delve deep into the inner world of James. Before us sweeps the smokey, industrial labyrinth of North Manchester, a dismal maze of rooftops and chimney stacks providing an atmospheric backdrop to an interview which drifts naturally into moody nostalgia.

“Maine Road holds a lot of memories for me,” Jim says (James are supporting Bowie at Maine Road on the 7th). “I used to go to the Claremont Road School so a big chunk of my childhood years were spent around those terraced streets of Rusholme. I used to see City a lot at Maine Road too. It will be really weird playing there, especially knowing that a large part of the audience won’t even know who we are.

As we talk I suddenly notice the concrete slabs beneath use are cracked and broken and through the gaps, as though responsible for their very existence, peeps the occasional flower — individual, defiant and graceful but sadly overlooked by the passer-by. An image which seems curiously symbolic of James’s struggle to blossom in the stoney-faced and unaccommodating world of pop. A band who’ve been with us for a long time now and who have treated us to some of Manchester’s most innovative and ethereal music, it is surprising that James have only been rewarded with modest commercial success.

“The last two singles did okay I suppose,” Jim says referring to the recent chart success of ‘How Was It For You’ and ‘Come Home’, “But it does seem that Radio One and Top of the Pops have an unusual attitude about us. A week before its release, ‘Come Home’ was D listed on the radio. It went straight into the charts at number 32 but for some reason, they took it off the list altogether. We’ve been really unlucky. Sometimes the whole mechanics of the pop and rock industry can be a real pain in the arse.

But hoardes of acid scallies donning the James T-shirts on a Saturday afternoon in Manchester is sufficient proof (if any were needed) that James are the defiant flower of the current Manchester scene, not growing from it but through it, like the flower in the park peering through the shattered slabs of worn-down concrete.

“Naturally the Manchester scene affect us,” Jim says, “But at the same time we are quite detached from it all. We are still waiting to see how people react to it. What I’ve liked so far about Manchester is that bands have always been very individualistic. But once the bubble bursts people are going to be much more critical.”

‘Gold Mother’, still hovering in the album charts, was James’s offering for the summer and perhaps their most haunting album to date. The pounding rhythmical surges of ‘Come Home’ is still guaranteed to pack the dance floor with scores of arm-flailing idolaters and the LP, the first fruits of the Phonogram deal, has already become part of the current teenage bedroom culture. Politics, loneliness, alienation, anger — ‘Gold Mother’ sweeps majestically through a twilight world of emotional turmoil and self-awareness. Who can resist singing along to such hard-hitting lines as,

‘I am in love insane with a sense of shame

That I threw stones at the condemned and now I’m slated.”

“Yes, I agree, it’s a moody album,” Jim says, “For the last year or so we were pissed off with the situation we were in and a lot of the songs on the album emerged from that period. But the album is more compact than the others. We picked up the songs that seemed to fit in with each other. It’s hopefully the sort of album you can listen to from start to finish.

“It’s interesting,” Jim continues, “Because a lot the songs emerge subconsciously. Tim, Larry, Mark and I all get together in a big room and jam incessantly for twenty minutes or so. We record the session then listen to the bits we like. At this stage, however, the song is very much in its pupal stage. It then grows and changes until it reaches its final metamorphosis in the studio.”

As we drift slowly back to the manager’s office in New Mount Street, the delicate image of the flower remains permanently imprinted in my head. The flower is the colourful and attractive part of the plant from which the fruit or seed is later developed. The seeds of James have already been sown and I am convinced that it is only a matter of time before the band finally bloom in a pop world soiled by apathy and blandness.

Dave Simpson traces the history of the band and talks to singer Tim Booth about broken dreams, shattered illusions and a new faith for the nineties.

The story of James is a lesson to every aspiring young person that ever picked up a guitar, ever dreamt of pop success and the glory that goes with it, ever believed in the old adage that talent will win through in the end, that good will always triumph over evil. Which, after all, is most of us.

The story of James is a love story, a tale of young men at odds with the world and in love with their art. It’s a tale that has fought off betrayals, disappointments and crippling disabilities, that’s seen hearts break, tears fall and spirits shatter. But James are still here. And this is their story.

The band formed in the early eighties as a collection of schoolboy friends. Tim Booth, Larry Gott, Gavan Whelan and Jim Glennie became James, named after their guitarist and because “Gavan didn’t have the same ring to it!” Based in Manchester, it wasn’t long before they had progressed to playing the occassional gig at The Hacienda’s local bands night and it was there that the group came to the attention of New Order manager Rob Gretton, who saw something in the foursome’s idiosyncratic yet emotive music and the frenzied dancing of Tim Booth and asked if they might like to record a single for Factory.

The “Jimone” EP duly followed at the back end of 1983 – containing the live standard “What’s The World”, the anti-nuclear “Fire So Close” and the sublime “Folklore”, the band’s attempt at questioning the basics of male/female stereotyping, which, looking back, could have been the touchstone for the “wimps” tag which was to haunt them in years to come. The band’s image was far removed from the overt masculinity of much of the rock music of its time – the blustery chest-thump of Simple Minds and the increasing stridency of U2 – and their fondness for casual clothing (principally cardigans) and vegetarian politics provided the press with an easy label. The term of “hippy folkie vegans” became synonymous with articles on the group.

1985 saw the classic “Hymn From A Village / If Things Were Perfect” coupling that was “James II”, a biting attack on worthless big-league pop and the single that rightly had the critics falling over themselves and A&R men dashing for their chequebooks.

Things moved fast. Morrissey proclaimed them as his favourite band, a tour with The Smiths beckoned and the band were catapulted into playing to thousands on one of the wildest tours of the decade. “The Smiths tour – we were very very grateful to The Smiths for giving us that level of exposure. But it was a case of a double-edged sword, on the one hand we were playing to these huge audiences and all that, but on the other hand it meant we were to become associated with The Smiths, compared to them. Which we never really thought was appropriate at all, we were two different bands really. It almost became a stigma, y’know. ‘Oh James, Smiths type band.'”

Following the success of the tour and their notable appearance at the 1985 WOMAD festival, James signed to Seymour Stein’s Sire Records, home of Madonna and Talking Heads. Things looked good. Whilst lacking the raw power of the Factory records, the first Sire single “Chain Mail” dented the national Top 50 and gained a snatch of daytime radio play.

Things started to go astray however with the release of the band’s debut album, the ironically titled “Stutter”. The record contained some fine songs, particularly the dreamy “Really Hard” and “Johnny Yen”, which was to become a cornerstone of the band’s set for many years, but it was marred by a flat production job, courtesy of Lenny Kaye, former drummer with the Patti Smith Group. “We were inexperienced as a studio band, Lenny was inexperienced as a producer. We were lost, basically.” Tim Booth’s charming, charismatic vocals were rendered all but colourless. The album crept out to mixed reviews and without a substantial back-up. In chart terms, it flopped.

The band soon realised the difference between being independent hopefuls and major label artists. “You can be number one in the indie charts and mean nothing in the mainstream charts. When you go to a major you lose the profile an independent hit gives, even though you may actually be selling more records. Looking back, I think we should have done an independent album.”

Sire began to lose interest. They viewed James as still essentially being an “indie” group. They’d been signed as a “hip” band with a flurry of press activity and once they’d got them on the dotted line, the company had no idea what to do with them. A further problem was the fact that, as a huge American company, Sire didn’t have a UK office, which made it difficult for the group to deal with them. There was never any real working relationship between the two parties. Tim Booth recalls “With Sire, we didn’t accept any money, so they could really do with us what they wanted because they hadn’t put any investment into us. They could just leave us on a shelf for two years, they weren’t going to lose anything.”

Which is precisely what happened. Between 1986 and 1988 there were no James records – no singles, no albums, no more than a handful of gigs. Many of the group’s fans assumed they’d split up, there were the usual trickle of rumours surrounding the band’s activities (some almost as far-fetched as those surrounding The Only Ones), and for all intents and purposes James were close to being all but a cherished memory. The band were shattered, broken. Their dreams languished on the rocks, their morale was all but crushed. It was never meant to be this way.

1988 at last saw a release in the form of a fine single “What For”. It was to become an anthem for the band, an inspiring and uplifting tale of a yearning hope, flying in the face of adversity. Its success was seen as vital to the continued progress of the group. Sire thought the record still “a little too indie for Radio 1”, failed to give it any kind of push, and, despite the band’s faithful following rushing out to buy a copy, it failed to make the Top 40. James were devastated. The drummer, Gavan, left. Tim Booth recalls “That year had been really hard, we’d nearly finished, just given up, we were on the brink of bankruptcy. With Gavan, we had to ask him to leave after a series of arguments. He seemed to have a different idea of what he wanted from the music, so we just felt it wasn’t worth continuing, because it was like every rehearsal was a fight.”

James long awaited second LP appeared at the tailend of the year, two years after it was recorded and after remixing had attempted to give it a more radio-friendly sound. The company did nothing to promote it. “Strip Mine” was a great record that never got made, the resulting release a very good but rapidly dating and frustrating shadow of the group’s increasingly electrifying live form. Worse, their former champions in the press maintained the notion that the band and their music were somehow “wimpy and fragile”. Which was patently ludicrous.

“We were in this awful press rut where we were a, you know, ‘File under Smiths, vegetarian, Buddhist, arran sweaters’ kind of group. That was a hell of a shit rut to get into, we didn’t feel it reflected any of the music that we were making. We don’t feel out music’s ‘indie’, there’s never been a Buddhist in the band, vegetarianism isn’t a policy, it just happens that most of the members of the band are that way by choice. The music’s not wimpy, it’s more &ldots; provocative and aggressive. I’d actually quite like to meet the journalists who write that we’re wimps, then we could show them just how wimpy we are. We still get dismissed like that, only recently one paper wanted to run an article on us and the projected headline was ‘Return of the Hippies!’ It’s just ridiculous.”

Down to a three-piece, the band were at rock-bottom. But they didn’t give in. They still burned with a basic faith in the power of what they were doing, they found a new will, a new resolve. They found a legal loophole in their record contract and finally broke free. The phoenix began to rise.

In 1989, having spent time recruiting a new drummer, James expanded to a seven-piece line up and began work on a more powerful, more danceable sound. “We’d wanted other musicians before, but we’d not been able to find any with the same attitudes as us regarding improvising and taking risks, but gradually they just seemed to appear, we sort of stumbled on them. So we became a seven-piece, almost by accident.”

Finding a helping hand at Rough Trade, the band released a live album “One Man Clapping” to very favourable reviews. Their live shows had always far eclipsed their recorded work, so it was appropriate that the record featuring the original four-piece line up recorded over two hot nights in Bath should become their best long player to date. Featuring many previously unrecorded songs, including the bitter vitriolic ballad “Burned”, the album was a firm fixture at the top of the independent charts for weeks. Another classic single, “Sit Down”, possibly their best yet, was unleashed upon the public. But on the verge of a chart hit, the band’s jinx struck again. A technicality concerning the accompanying video resulted in a Musician’s Union ban on television showings for a crucial two weeks. The single entered at 77 and got no higher.

But by now, the group’s ever-growing following was beginning to show itself in huge numbers. Especially in the North, there was barely a gig crowd to be seen without someone wearing the band’s characteristic t-shirts. At Bradford’s Futurama Festival in October, a quite remarkable performance by James literally stunned the crowd into a massive standing ovation. There were people with tears streaming down their faces. The devoted fans that had stuck with the group through everything were sharing in the joy of the moment, the realisation that at last James time was about to come.

The next step was another single, “Come Home”. Wary of the band’s “wimp rock” reputation, Rough Trade dished out a few white labels of the record to club DJs, refusing to name the artists. Showcasing a forceful new dance sound, it was greeted ecstatically on dancefloors across the country. It was an excellent record. A hit single looked a safe bet.

“Come Home” entered the Gallup chart at 85 following a “Hitlist” powerplay on Simon Mayo’s Radio 1 show and coinciding with Manchester’s Stone Roses and Happy Mondays assault on the nation’s consciousness. Incredibly, disaster struck again. A cock-up at record business mag Music Week meant that the bottom end of the Top 100 was printed exactly the same as the week before. This meant that James single was not listed as a new entry and hence at the crucial time lost the profile it would have otherwise received. The band were livid. It came as a further blow to a marketing campaign which had already seen pluggers without copies of the record, cancelled video shoots and delays in availability. It seemed like par for the course when, touring to promote the release, the band were struck down by flu.

But the “Come Home” tour was, despite everything, a major success. Dates were almost all sold out as James were doing the same level of business as the Mondays and the Carpets, and whilst the tour opened in Sheffield with Tim Booth barely able to sing, by the final date in Leeds the band were in spectacular form. The tour ended with the stage packed with members of supporting act Band of Holy Joy and Holy Joy wordsmith Johnny Brown proclaiming that Tim Booth was “God”

That tour saw James unveiling the clutch of songs that form the basis of the “Gold Mother” era. As well as boasting the best tunes they’ve ever come up with, they show that as a lyricist Tim Booth now ranks with the best. His lyrics have developed from an early charming ambiguity to a searing directness, by turns intimately personal and vibrantly political. None moreso than the epic “Promised Land” which shows the group unafraid to speak out and take the lead as pop rises to the challenges of the new decade.

Tim : “I don’t like the word political, but yes, that’s the direction my lyrics have taken. In the early days though, we had songs like ‘Fire So Close’ which was about Cruise missiles, so it’s always been there. In those days, though, I was afraid to be as direct as I am now. I liked to keep it ambiguous, whereas now I just f**king write it, y’know. I was very angry when I wrote ‘Promised Land’, I was sitting on a train and it came out in half an hour. When a song comes out very smoothly you just have to use it, I couldn’t turn it down. A lot of them are like that, you just write it down, don’t censor yourself and then you find it usually makes more sense later. The ‘Promised Land’ thing was also about Hillsborough. We were recording ‘Sit Down’ in Sheffield at the time and she was in the hospital the next day. There’s these poor buggers trying to get better and Thatcher’s hanging over them trying to get a photo session done.”

The last tour saw audiences increasingly reacting to the content of the songs. A crowd in Birmingham let out a rapturous cheer when Tim altered the lyrics of ‘What For’ to take in ‘I will swim through Sellafield seas’ in comment on recent spills.

“When we played in Edinburgh which is very politicised at the moment due to the Poll Tax thing &ldots; when we played it, they were just cheering and cheering. I’ve never known anything like it, Larry was in tears. It was incredible.”

“We’ve always known though that people were listening. We’ve always had that belief, sometimes that was all we had to keep us going, y’know. We’ve just gone on at our own pace. The last tour was sold out virtually everywhere, we’re just letting it grow naturally, building. I suppose we’re hoping for a similar growth to U2 or Springsteen. Because we can do it live, I think we can sustain it. I think Springsteen is a role model for us, some of his music’s very cliched but he can really cut it live. So can U2, I would imagine. I’ve not seen U2 but some of the sequences in that film, the live thing, they’re incredibly powerful.”

Tim Booth radiates an aura these days. It’s not something you can easily put your finger on, but maybe things like faith, determination, hope, love and anger have something to do with it. He’s more authoritative, maybe happier.

“I’ve been looking back at certain memories, and they’re just really awful memories, y’know, about not being happy and everything. I hope I won’t look back on my present as being like that. The funny thing was, it was all in me, it was my mentality that was making me unhappy.”

Whatever the future holds, the lessons of the past have not been spared on James. “We were wary of signing again after what happened with Sire, but we’re far more aware now than we were then. We won’t make the mistakes we made then and we won’t get f**ked around like we were then. Record companies all come down to money in the end, even your smallest back bedroom indie label. They’re bankers, it’s just with a major label the sums they invest are far greater. The thing what made us look at signing again, was &ldots; we’ve been on the verge of bankruptcy for about a year. We have a huge amount of faith in our music, and we were thinking, y’know, we can’t go on writing songs this brilliant and not get anything from it. We’ve got to the point also where we’re a seven-piece band and to tour costs us thousands. It’s the only option open, really. But I think this time it will prove to be the right one.”

1990 has been (so far, at least) kind to James. They’ve broken the charts, (firstly with “How Was It For You?”, a trite, weak single as it happens) and the “Gold Mother” album has helped restore their reputation as the great white hopes for British pop. The band have moved towards the kind of corporate games that typify the approach of many major label artistes (multi-format releases, in-store p.a.’s etc) but it is hoped that, with the chart barriers broken, the group will once again rely of their music, and their music alone, to maintain their success.

After all, it’s that what’s carried them this far. It would be a shame now, after all they’ve been through, James threw it all away and became just like all the rest. Bankers.

Three major shows including G-Mex

JAMES, who are currently working on new material for a September single release, will round off a phenomenally successful year on the Madchester wave with three mega Christmas shows­ at Glasgow Barrowlands on December 4, London Brixton Academy 6 and everyone’s favourite venue, Manchester G-Mex, on December 8.

Tickets are on sale now from box offices and usual agents, price £8.50 for London and £6.50 everywhere else. More news on the new single to follow soon.

JAMES wind up what’s already become their most successful year to date with three Christmas shows in Glasgow, London and Manchester.

The band, who proved the surprise hit at this year’s Glastonbury Festival and at their support slot to The Cure at Crystal Palace three weeks ago, are currently in the studio. They´re recording with producer Flood (Depeche Mode), and a single looks likely to be released in late September.

After that they’re off to America on a press and promotion trip. They return for shows at Glasgow Barrowlands on December 4, Brixton Academy (6) and Manchester G-Mex (8). Their current LP “Gold Mother” is just about to go silver in the UK.

First Blackpool, then the world

You couldn’t move in Blackpool for those T-shirts. Advertising the LP “Gold Mother” or the single “Come Home”, James logos added a little style to the Golden Mile with its tourists in gaping tops and small shorts queuing up to see Elvis as approved by Graceland, screaming on Pleasure Beach rides and eating soggy chips and curry sauce in the hottest weekend on record.

Singer Tim Booth is buzzing. He is becoming something of a guru with his audience, who are devoted scallies and indie fans. He is not an obvious pin-up; as he wanders around, the Pleasure Beach girls gasp, point, and whisper: “It isn’t, is it?”. The T-shirt Posse approach hesitantly and casually remark “Brilliant gig, mate”, to which Booth smiles, mutters “Thanks,” and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.

In a café along the seafront, Booth is talking about how proud James are of their fans. “They’ve been fanatical for about four years in Manchester. We haven’t played there this year. So loads of people came up to see us – we really wanted to book a campsite and include the price on the tickets, but they wouldn’t let us. We were nervous because these are the first gigs since Glastonbury. I just couldn’t believe it when everyone in the Ballroom got down on the floor for ‘Sit Down’. It blew me away. It was wild!”

James are at their best live-their songs have a mesmeric, anthemic quality which touches on early Teardrop Explodes and the House Of Love. Strobe lights flicker from all angles, colourful images dance on the backdrop behind the seven-piece band. Fans at Blackpool – 10,000 of them over two nights – danced on stage with Booth, doused themselves with water and wore James T-shirts with Stone Roses, Happy Mondays, and “Cool as Fuck” visible beneath.

The association with Manchester, their hometown, is inevitable, especially when the Inspiral Carpets do backing vocals on the title track of their LP “Gold Mother”, but Booth insists James aren’t linked with the ‘scene’, and is skeptical of pale imitators who think wearing hoods and flares is enough. “I don’t think imitation is a sign of respect at all. Most people miss the whole point, trying to copy the spirit of the band without being able to emulate the notes. It seems so superficial. But if there is a Manchester backlash, it won’t get us because we’re too big.”

Booth’s voice, intense eye contact and easy smile make his boasting sound more like honestly then egotism. But his pride is understandable. From the days of “Stutter” (1986) to this summer’s magnificent “Gold Mother”. James have always shown that their music – catchy and poppy but full of twists – has guts. Guitarist Larry Gott sips his tea and sweeps his hair back. “The guts have just been in a different area to other bands, who rely on loud drums and guitars and distortion.”

Their staying power is central to their success. After eight years of financial difficulties when they were saved by the sales f those T-shirts, James are considering world domination. Levi’s believe they are going to be as big as U2 (“Their words, not ours”) and are sponsoring them. Subtly, of course.

“They can take photos before the gig, and they may do a brochure-a tasteful one-to be distributed to 2,000 shops,” Booth explains. “And we get wardrobes full of free jackets and shirts,” adds Gott, laughing and covering the conspicuous red tag on his shirt.

The music press now seems to have forgotten the awkward, playful James who used to wear bright clothes and smile in press pictures because everyone else “was wearing black and looking dour and cool”. And the time when Booth’s slightly feminine looks added to the band’s ‘wimpish’ label. Now the praise comes more readily, although they are wary of hype: “If you believe the press when they say you’re fantastic, you’ve got to believe it when they say you’re terribe.”

Booth shakes his curls and says they are learning lessons all the time. “I was tripped up the other week on Radio 1’s Newsbeat. The first question was ‘NME says you’re the best band in the world or a load of jessies. What do you think of that?’ I said if it was a choice, I’d say, ‘We are the best band in the world!’ And of course they just used that. I felt really embarrassed.”

The waitress brings some sickly ice cream and confides in us. “You know, something really strange is going on today. Everyone’s wearing funny T-shirts. I think it’s all about this band called James. Do you know anything about them?” World domination is yet to come. (Amy Raphael)

WILL JAMES LAST?

GASPO! IT LOOKED LINE ONE OF THE FIRST—AND SOME WOULD SAY THE BEST—OF THE NEW NEW MANCHESTER BANDS WOULD MISS THEIR PLACE ON THIS YEAR’S MIGHTY MANC BANDWAGON, BUT IN THE NICK OF TIME JAMES GOT THE SUCCESS THEY LUSTED FOR, JUST LIKE THEY ALWAYS KNEW THEY WOULD. DONTCHA JUST LURVE HAPPY ENDINGS? ASKS ANDREW COLLINS

“It’s that time again, when I lose my friends/go walkabout/I’ve got the bends from pressure/this is a testing time when the choice is mine” (“Come Home”)

You and I, we’re on first names terms with James. We’ve been that way for some time now. Six years, in actual fact. And we’ve been through a helluva lot together, you, me, and James. Premature adulation, the pain of being misunderstood, peer pressure, the frustration of being leap-frogged, the crushing demoralization of one man clapping, and now, it’s that testing time when we’ve got more friends-you, me, and James-than we know what to do with.

For 1990 has been James’ Renaissance year. Look at the national chart successes of this summer’s “Come Home” single and “Gold Mother” album if you want statistics. Or ask anyone at Glastonbury which was the most ubiquitous T-shirt amongst the huddled masses, if you prefer less clinical proof that James have arrived.

“I’ve always found normal life pretty damn weird anyway, so I don’t find this any weirder,” says James frontperson Tim Booth, whose ‘normal” life now involves being mobbed in the street by young people wearing his T-shirts and the occasional “weird sexual advance.”

Tim has been at the helm of James from the beginning. He is not James, he is Tim; he is one seventh of The Band With No Surname. But occupying, as a singer inevitably does, the foreground, it is Time who has the clearest view of this lasting six-year friendship.

To get to the very beginning of James, “ the first stirrings”, as Tim poetically puts it, we have to travel back to 1984, to a Manchester University disco, when an angst-ridden Tim is ‘expressing himself’ on the bitter-soaked dancefloor.

“I was pissed off because my girlfriend had gone away and left me, and I’d had a few drinks and I was dancing wildly on a crowded floor, and people were having to make room for me. I came back to my table and this bearded fellow was stealing my drink. I confronted him, and two other fellows stood up to support him – so I immediately became charming! They were 16-year-old Manchester lads who’d seen me dancing and wanted me to dance in their band.”

The next morning, Tim woke up with a phone number on his hand. He rang it, and that very night, found himself sitting in a scout hut round the back of then-guitarist Paul’s house “listening to this really naïve band play songs with two chord changes that went on forever.”

This young band were also short a lyricist, so, assuming that Tim was dead clever, what with him being at university and all, they asked him if he’d write some words for them. (“I’d never done such a thing in my life, but I wanted to be in a band – so I allowed them to carry their ignorance with them.”)

A couple of practices, a spot of backing vocals (the band had a female lead singer at this point) and some angst-ridden tambourine banging later, it was announced that they had a support slot with Orange Juice in Sheffield. “Come along,” they said, to their new-found Human League-style dancing boy. And he did.

“I danced like a very frightened man, and that was it.”

James weren’t called James at this tender stage, they were The Model Team International, named after the model agency that Paul’s sister worked for – hence, ready-made T-shirts were available for stage wear. The importance of good T-shirts would crop up again in James’ career…

A year later, ‘that girl singer’ was ‘asked to leave’, and Tim was promoted. The name changed, too. Paul didn’t want them named ‘Paul’ for fear of looking big-headed; they shied away from being called ‘Tim” to avoid singer-as-bandleader connotations; ‘Gavan’ (the drummer) sounded too much like Heavy Metal band; so the honour of immortalization befell bassist Jim Glennie. James was born. The inevitable demos ensued, leading to a single with local Factory Records.

“They wanted us to make an EP but we refused to do that as well and did a single. We deliberately chose our three weakest songs and recorded those – we thought we were bound to cock up the first time and we were not going to waste our best songs.”

If “What’s The World’, Fire So Close’ and ‘Folklore’ were James’s worst songs, it was little wonder they got themselves noticed on the release of this first single. Slightly ragged, a tad ‘folk-tinged’, perhaps less overtly tuneful that the currently ‘happening’ Smiths, but tightly-sprung, highly-strung Pop oddities nonetheless.

February ’85 saw the “good songs” follow-up, headed by the now-familiar ‘Hymn From A Village’. Next stop – ‘that NME cover story’. On March 16, the four members of James- Tim, Larry Gott, Jim and Gavan – found themselves peering from the cover of said well-known weekly, automatically hailed within as Great White Hopes, saviors of Brit Pop, new pioneers of rubbish-trousered ‘ordinary ‘ blokedom. This was fine – except that far from being the fruition of an unknown band’s hopes and dreams, this cover-stars honour was soured by the fact that it was actually timed in spite of itself; James were staring up from the shelf of WH Smiths by (their own) default. The idea was, originally, that James would herald the new year, by being the NME’s first cover of 1985 – but they turned it down, “because we felt it was damaging to the soul”.

It wasn’t arrogance, then?

“No, it was naiveté. Things were going so well for us, we thought they’d carry on forever. We felt that the music was It – and it isn’t. That isn’t the reality of the music business.”

Things were indeed going well. Recently-elected guru for a new generation, Morissey, had name-checked James in print, and the boys were duly invited on the Smiths ‘Meat is Murder’ tour. James ‘awkward, self-consciousness, bedroom poetry style and Manc geography earned them many an early Smiths comparison.

“We liked the Smiths. They were a great band, but they were working in a different area to us. We were well-protected by them, too – they looked after us,” Tim admits. However, true to form, they turned down the subsequent American leg of the Smiths’ tour. While your average young band might measure their own brilliance by totting up press offers and support dates, James viewed their own worth completely outside of the great media circus. Simply, they knew their music was brilliant.

Courtship by major labels followed and James welcomed it-because Factory simply weren’t getting their singles into the shops of the towns they were playing in. (“We felt we were putting our backs into it and they weren’t. We get on really well with Factory now – it turns out that they weren’t the people to be frightened of. Sire were.”)

Ah yes – Sire. Entirely down to the naïve belief that any company that signed up the Ramones and Talking Heads must respect their artistes, James exchanged ink with the legendary New York label.

“We felt that the fat American who signed us was a real music fan and we went with him. It was a mistake.”

A mistake that would eat a full three years out of James’ divine masterplan. The vote of confidence inherent in the actual signing was the last evidence that Sire were behind them that James would see.

“They didn’t see us as a commercial band; they saw us as avant garde. Which in a way, we were.”

“We were very difficult,” Tim admits. “very naïve. We fought with the producers. We’d demand a lot of them and we didn’t know what we were doing.”

After much friction and studio-ache, a first album ‘Stutter’ sort of dribbled out of Sire’s Summer ’86 schedules. It was very much a first album, hung with haunted, jerky James ditties, often without the aid of a chorus, always injected with Moriss(ey) dancing maypole catchiness.

But the huge void between James’ idiosyncratic vision and Sire’s chorus-hungry transatlantic obsolescence soon became apparent. This doomed mixed marriage is most lucidly illustrated by the chapter in the James story where they record their second album; ‘Strip Mine’ and Sire take a full two bloody years to release it.

“’Strip Mine’ nearly killed us, because we had such debts. We couldn’t tour, there was no money coming in, and we were a complete mess.”

The second new manager James called in to try and salvage their career actually gave in, saying that they couldn’t physically get in touch with Sire at all. (Sire’s UK office comprises “a glorified secretary,” Tim spits.)

But there is a God. And this very failure to communicate became James’ escape.

“There was a small print in our contract that said if Sire didn’t send a telex to say that they were going to renew, six months after the LP was released, they lose us automatically. They told us verbally on the phone that they were, but they forgot to send a telex! They were so inefficient.”

And with one bound, James were free. Poor, demoralized, and instilled with a blanket dislike of Americans (“They’re up their own arses, they don’t understand new music!”), they somehow managed to stay together. How?

“The music was still brilliant, and we knew it. We never lost confidence in the music. If you know that you’re one of the best in the world at what you do, are you going to give it up and do something that you’re not very good at?”

“When we couldn’t tour, we’d play Manchester. We were playing Manchester four years ago to 1,500-2,000 people, and they would understand what we were doing! They would be going berserk!”

James “walked the tightrope with bankruptcy” for 18 months after the break with Sire, and, as if to add injury to insult, Tim had a funny knee. After two cartilage operations they told him he’d never dance again, and minor depression set in.

“So I got the whole of The Singing Detective out on video and watched it the day after I came out of the hospital. And I didn’t believe in painkillers so I was in f***ing agony and couldn’t sleep. There I was, on my back, watching a film about this man in hospital who’s in agony, shouting and swearing at people, and it really did me in. And really cheered me up because if something that odd can get recognition that I felt that there had to be some justice!”

Which leaves us with a splendid allegory to play about with: James as bed-bound genius, racked with creative fervor, disturbing the other patients, refusing the painkillers etc etc.

And – just like Philip Marlowe in The Singing Detective – James recorded a live LP in Bath to remedy all that time spent rotting in a confined space.

It was called, ironically, ‘One Man Clapping’, and it captured the still-intact spirit of James-bristling, frustrated, chewing at the muzzle, and independent. Yes, they were independent again, the album being financed by comfortable old carthouse Rough Trade. This might have been the start of a beautiful friendship, but “ they didn’t see us as a commercial band, they saw us a bit like Pere Ubu, a band they felt obliged to help – original, but not going to sell large amounts of records. Sol we felt obliged to leave-because we saw ourselves selling lots of records!”

The singles ‘Sit Down’ and ‘Come Home’ came out on the back of Rough Trade’s honourable sense of obligation, but, despite ‘89’s obsession with all things Manc, failed to be more than just indie hits. (‘Sit Down ‘ was dashed by a Musicians Union ban on the video, because Larry played a log with two sticks in a suspiciously drummer-like manner in it, and obviously put scores of real percussionists out of a job by doing so.)

Despite being “jinxed” in matter of business, James songs were still coming thick, fast and brilliant. Gavan had left in December ’88, and this paved the way for a recruiting drive – one that resulted in the new, seven-man line-up that exists today. Saul, the fiddle player, “blew Larry away” with some sparkling improv at a local jazz club, keyboardist Mark “blew the whole band away” with some improvised accompaniment to ‘Sit Down’ in a studio in Bath; trumpeter Andy (literally) “blew them away” by busking through a track called ‘Crescendo’ – are you spotting a pattern here?

So, newly complemented by top improvisation merchants, James set about rebuilding themselves on vinyl, in order to blow us all away too.

The Rough Trade-financed ‘Gold Mother’ LP (comprising many a track actually written during improv sessions at the previous auditions) was so fine, so convincing, that Phonogram bought it up lock, stock and barrel. Its eventual release in July this year signaled James’ official Renaissance (the one that had been happening for about six years!) and even though it’s ‘taster’ single ‘How Was It For You?’ flopped due to Top of The Pops changing their format to include album charts and hence nixing James’ long-overdue debut by one chart placing, a UK tour that featured serious Jamesmania in the area confirmed what they already knew.

“The people that follow us now are quite devotional,” understates Tim, who has witnessed an entire audience in Paris sitting down to ‘Sit Down’ and had a gig at the Liverpool Royal Court halted while the crowd sang this song for five full minutes. “The trouble with something like this is that you then try and recreate it. The next few nights I was holding the mic out to the crowd and they didn’t sing – and that’s where the cliché’s born!”

When you spend that long realizing your own greatness, you do tend to avoid clichés. James’ rise from Moz-tipped tank tops to fully-fledged national institution has been anything but a fairy tale.

“I find this inevitable,” smiles Tim, and you’re tempted to believe him.

SINGLES

Nov 84 What’s The World/Fire So Close/Folklore (Factory)

Feb 85 Hymn From a Village/If Things Were Perfect (Factory)

Jan 86 Chain Mail/Uprising/Hup-Springs (Sire)

Jul 86 So Many Ways/Withdrawn/Just Hipper (Sire)

Mar 88 What For/Island Swing/Not There (Sire)

Sep 88 Ya Ho/Mosquito/Left Out Of Her Will/New Nature (Sire)

Jun 89 Sit Down/Goin’ Away /Sound Investment/Sky Is Falling (Rough Trade)

Nov 89 Come Home/Promised Land/Slow Right Down (Rough Trade)

May 90 How Was It For You/Whoops/Hymn From A Village/Lazy (Fontana)

Jun 90 Come Again/Dreaming Up Tomorrow/Far Away/ Gold Mother (Fontana)

ALBUMS

Jul 86 Stutter Sire

Sep 88 Strip Mine Sire

Feb 89 One Man Clapping (Live) One Man

Jun 90 Gold Mother Phonogram

The JAMES gang

Tim Booth (28) Vocals

Jim Glennie (26) Bass

Larry Gott (30) Guitar

Saul Davies (30) Violin, percussion, guitar

Mark Hunter (22) Keyboards

Andy Diagram (28) Trumpet, percussion

Dave Baynton-Power (27) Drums

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JAMES release a new single through Fontana on November 26. And they have also this week announced a headline gig in the Life Serenaids series.

The Single offers two previously unreleased tracks, “Lose Control” and a cover of Velvet Underground’s “Sunday Morning”. The 12-inch additionally features “Out To Get You”.

James appear at the Terrence Higgins Trust’s Life Serenaids on November 29 and at Brixton Academy. The three-night event aims to highlight World AIDS Day on December 1. James Will be supported by That Petrol Emotion, Billy Bragg, New Fast Automatic Daffodils and Stereo MCs. Tickets are £10 in advance, excluding booking fee, from the Academy box office, usual ticket agents and a special charity hotline – 071 734 8932.

The band follow on with a short series of British gigs in December, as already announced. Then they fly to Russia for shows in Moscow, Kiev, Arkhangelsk, Vilnyus and Svendlovsk.

James release a brand new single through Fontana on November 26 titled Lose Control. The b-side is a version of the Velvet Underground’s Sunday Morning and the 12″ has an extra track, Out To Get You.

The band are currently working on a new LP, due out next Spring, and have just announced that they will be playing Russia following a short UK tour in December.

JAMES will headline an AIDS benefit show at London’s Brixton Academy on November 29.

The Manchester band(singer Tim Booth pictured right) are the latest addition to the three-day Serenaids Festival in support of the Terence Higgins Trust.They will be supported by That Petrol Emotion, Billy Bragg, The New Fast Automatic Daffodils and the Stereo MCs. Mica Paris has also been confirmed as special uest for another of the shows at the same venue on November 28. She’ll appear on the same billas Marc Almond,Everything But The Girl, Carmel, Jools Holland and Working Week.

Tickets for all the shows cost £10 each and you can book on the credit card hotline by calling 071 734 8932.

JAMES, THAT PETROL EMOTION, MARC ALMOND and THE ADVENTURES OF STEVIE V play London this week to draw attention to World Aids Day on Saturday. The gigs, under the banner ‘Serenaids’, and organised by the Terence Higgins Trust, start tonight (Wednesday) at the Brixton Academy with Almond, Mica Paris, Everything But The Girl, Carmel, Jools Holland and Working Week. They continue on Thursday with James, That Petrol Emotion, Billy Bragg, New FADs and Stereo MCs on the bill and concludes on Friday with The Adventures Of Stevie V, Bass-0-Matic, MC Kinky and Cabaret Voltaire.

JAMES (above) release a new single through Fontana on November 26, the follow up to ‘Come Home’. Called ‘Lose Control’, it sees the culmination of the band’s most succesful year since they formed in 1983.

Their album ‘Gold Mother’ went silver, they played Glastonbury, sup­ported David Bowie and saw their T-shirts become second only to the lnspirals’ ‘Cool As F**k’ as the essential fashion
item for the hip young person.

The band play a series of Christmas dates next month, culminating in two home town shows at Manchester G-Mex. They are currently working on the follow-up to ‘Gold Mother’, due for release next spring.

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JAMES venture behind the Iron Curtain (R.I.P.p.e.d.) this week for a seven-date tour of the Soviet Union, which will include gigs at a seaport in the Arctic Circle and an aircraft factory in Kiev.

The band will be braving sub-zero temperatures (minus 20!), playing to average audiences of 2,000 per show.The first gig is tomorrow night (Thursday) at the Culture Palace Of Construction Trust in Vilnius, Lithuania.

Manager Martine McDonagh told NME that the dates were not part of a promotional jaunt, as James’ records are not on sale in the Soviet Union.

“It’s an opportunity for the band to do something a little bit different,” she said. “It’ll be a weird tour. Apart from their own instruments, they will have to use the equipment at the various venues. It’ll probably be pretty bog standard stuff-a real back-to-basics tour.”

James are due to return to Britain two days before Christmas and will have a short break before starting work on their next album in the New Year.

“Nobody’s heard of us in Russia so it’ll be really interesting for the band to see the reaction” Martine added.

“WHAT ARE JAMES CELEBRATING? OH, OUR RECOGNITION OF WHAT THE WORLD’S ABOUT. THAT’S WHAT IT IS, really. Seeing the dark side of life, knowing things can really be shit, but trying to say that there’s still hope. Trying to say just look how beatuiful THIS is! That’s James. That optimism. Not a blind, foolish optimism that merely says the world’s a wonderful place, la-di-da. That’s too easy. No, you have to recognise there’s beauty and there’s crap in here. You have to recognise the complexity.” –Tim Booth

FEW groups know how to celebrate like James. Few truly recognise the art. It’s not a question of mere cheerfulness. Any fool can grin. True celebration involves a joy, a depth, a resonance, an intelligence. True celebration needs complexity and conviction. The very best fun is a genuinely serious business.

James never used to be skilled celebrators. Not even two years back. There was a greyness to shake off. They tended towards the sombre. James have always been many things; perverse, giddy, singular, contrary, clever, tilted, troubled. But they weren’t always fun. Pop success eluded them. James looked doomed to perenial comfy, vaguely sullen cult status.

But then James became a cause to celebrate. They blossomed spectacularly. Where once they scripted edgy, twitchy angst-dramas there came loping anthems. Two wicked, intoxicating singles, “Come Home” and “Sit Down”, exploded their morose milieu. Live shows grew into addictive, joyous theatre. From being the ultimate student band, James were reborn as uneven, insanely joyous entertainers. It was a miracle.

Five months ago, they converted 50,000 souls to their busy mayhem at Glastonbury when Tim Booth rode their twisted rhythms from the stage and into the crowd. James were delirious that day, fervent, inspired demons. They came of age. And now, to complete the process, comes a potent new single, “Lose Control”, to strafe the charts. At long last, James’ exile is over. The secret’s out. Tim Booth’s unstable, maverick glee can go public.

It’s surely time to celebrate.

“LOSE Control” is a classic single, one of the year’s greats. Set to the ubiquitous Soul II Soul drum shuffle by Flood, producer of The Soup Dragons’ “I’m Free”, its curios, querulous outlook is unmistakeably James. “Where is the love/That everyone is talking of?” wonders Booth dolefully over the hypno-beat, before deciding, “We have found the love/To carry on”. It’s baggy, yeah, yet superbly aloof. James have always kept their distance.

“It was a long, dark night when I wrote it,” grins Tim. “I tend to write through the night. The idea is pretty dark: ‘Don’t be deceived, no land in sight/We’re all adrift in this dark night’. It’s an insomniac, awake all night, plagued by doubt and fear. ‘The terror’s all within my head’. But it ends on a positve note, I stuck in a real corny American-type ending.”

Why do that, Tim? Why contradict the song’s delicate, delicious meloncholy?

“Recently, I’ve seen that if I write a load of depressing songs, I get depressed soon after,” he confesses. “I feel a responsibility to make things positive. But I don’t know why. It’s not a conscious effort. Life’s hard enough without bloody unhappy endings!”

How about that line, “My body’s young, but my spirit’s old”? Do you feel that way? Were you badly down that night?

“Yeah, but my spirit being old is okay. It’s a continuation. And when I sing, ‘Shake my body, release my soul”, that’s to do with dancing and trying to BREAK OUT of your limits! Your skin is your physical prison. So, punish your senses! Break out of your physical prison. . .”

THE cleverly camp Tim Booth is charismatic in tiny ways. He knows all about eye contact, how to glance just_ so, how to be quietly flamboyant yet immaculately polite. He’s a real charmer. The band’s Jim and Larry plus myself, sitting round the table in a Manchester greasy spoon, all seem lumpenly oafish in comparison. We’re too laddish.

On stage, Tim is yet more puckish, a dextrous Pierrot orchestrating James’ heady chaos and the audience’s love. It’s no surprise he used to be a drama student. Does he ever feel like an actor up there?

“No, I was a terrible actor,” he grimaces. “I had no confidence at all. I’d spend my whole time on stage trying to remember my words. I always had a complete panic expression on my face. Even in James, we were pretty bad at first! It took us two years to overcome our stage fright. Two years to want to be up there.”

It’s hard to believe now. Two weeks ago saw James take apart a theatre in Paris. Tim Booth played to cockeyed messiah to perfection. The French adored him. Their love for him was palpable. Does he feel powerful?

“Yeah, I’m aware of a power. The power of music, of the whole event. I get so much adrenalin going. I might as well be taking drugs. We’ve walked on stage before and the audience bayed at us so much we’ve tilted backwards, like in a fierce headwind! So we try to use it. We have to. It’s fight or flight. . .”

WHEN did James cast off their shackles? What made them embrace this dizzy, frenzied new lease on life?

“We toured earlier this year,” recalls Tim, “and it got ever more celebratory. We learnt how to celebrate. Look at my lyrics very closely, and a lot of them are very hard, extremely depressed. But every gig we played, people were singing them as great big celebratory anthems. When I remember how I felt when I wrote them, what I was going through, it was totally weird!

“But it’s alchemy really. We can transform depression into joy, and that’s beautiful. I love it. We’re playing two shows at G-mex in December, 10,000 people each, and they’ll be such a celebration! Completely over the top! I’m nervous, but I can’t wait.”

So what is it that James celebrate?

“I think it’s life,” decides Tim. “Vitality. Some kind of joy. It’s so hard to say it. The world’s a f***ing hard place, sure, but it can be a wonderful place, so enjoy it! Enjoy that painting! Enjoy that animal! James should be life-affirming.”

Is it accurate that James are called “eccentric”?

“I don’t like it,” Tim says, “it’s too light. I just think we’re open to chance, and realise chance means the subconscious. It arranges things so much easier than the conscious, which can only work according to what it’s heard before. The unconscious brain throws in random factors. It’s much fresher.”

How do you trigger the unconscious?

“Take loads of drugs!” A shake of the head. “No. Oops! I mean just be receptive to it. Mistakes can be great. They’re original. You can’t make mistakes on purpose. We wrote ‘Come Home’ by mistake! We were trying to play ‘Sit Down’. ‘Sit Down’ is the big bastard brother of ‘Come Home’, the big bastard brother who’s been to Strangeways!”

James have always been contrary. They sabotage themselves. It’s part of their left-handed charm. Jim and Larry tell me eagerly how thet deliberately make sets hard, set themselves improvisatonal tasks, “for a challenge”. And Tim, not to be outdone, says “Lose Control” may be their sole dance single.

What?! Are you serious?

“Yeah! It’s a good single, but don’t forget there are seven people in James. There’s loads going on! We can’t mix everything with the bass and drums up front. . .”

THE charming Tim Booth enthuses about his recent wargames debut, shooting paint bullets at bored executives. “I killed loads of people,” he grins, wide eyed, divulging plans to set up a band contest against Happy Mondays. Our minds boggle en masse at the prospect Of Bez wielding a paint gun.

How personal to Tim Booth are James’ songs?

“Songs I though were very external to me turn out at a very later date to be personal,” he says. “I wrote a song about Jimmy Swaggert, or thought I had, and it turned out to be about me. He was interesting to me. He had all these commands for how others should live, then he couldn’t live up to them himself.

“That works in my life as well. I had very set ideas how I wanted to be. I haven’t lived up to them. So, maybe, the ideas weren’t right! Maybe I should just live my life, and not have too many concepts about it. I haven’t meditated for two years or so now. I get angry a lot more. More impatient. I’m turning into a right bad-tempered git!”

Yet see James live, in 1990, and Tim Booth isn’t a bad-tempered git. He’s a cunning jester. He even seems to love it when the kids cheerfully bellow that line in “Come Home” where he glumly tells the world he’s become “the kind of man I always hated”.

“I was in a pretty deep pit when I wrote that,” he recalls. “It was so personal. When I first heard it on Radio 1, I was shocked. I’d never heard such self-hate on the radio. But nobody ever figures it out! They all just sing along!”

Do you resent that?

Tim’s eyes twinkle. He’s a clever sod. “No, it’s fine! It’s the transmutation of something dark into something very light! Good! The song has a depth written into it. Maybe people will go back to it, in the future, and see the nastiness. I dunno. But I appreciate people getting joy from the songs! It’s better than feeling depressed.”

JAMES’ fragile days are over now. They know their worth. They’re no longer spindly. This curious, lopsided, singular band have learned to dance without blushing, rock without apologising. They’ve followed their erratic, engaging vision for eight years, gathered disciples, never compromised. The hard work’s over now. Here comes the pay-off.

“How do I summarise James?” asks Tim. ‘Where do I start? All I can do is talk in very general terms. About vitality, and energy, and an attempt to discover things about ourselves and our relationship with the audience. We’re here to discover.”

Larry: “People always called us Manchester’s best kept secret. Then the secret got let out of the bag. When this Manchester thing happened, every band in every attic and garage was dragged out and thrown out on a stage for the press to look at!”

Was it fun being a secret, all those years?

“Well, secrets lead to gossip,” says Tim. “People gossip. When we can sell out a 10,000 people concert in two weeks, we know someone’s let the cat out of the bag! Someone’s told their friends! Now it’s time for James to be Manchester’s best-kept gossip”

So what motivates you to keep inventing new twists for James?

“We’re probably addicts,” grins Tim Booth. “If we tried to give up, we’d get withdrawal. It’s very compulsive. We don’t have a lot of choice in it. But this doesn’t feel like the time to stop. I think we’ll know when that time comes.

“We have a psychotic need to express ourselves in this manner,” Tim concludes. “Someone asked me yesterday, what’s our drive? And I said personality disorders. I just need to hit myself on the head a few more times! Then I’ll be alright!”

James have found the love. Their time is definitely NOW. I suggest you celebrate frantically.

“Lose Control” is out next week on Fontana. James play December dates in Glasgow, London, And Manchester.

With the possible exception of John Major, JAMES were 1990’s most spectacular surprise success. They began the year as indie cult heroes with a spell of failure on a major behind them, and ended it as chart regulars with a massive, obsessive following and a reputation as one of the nation’s most thrilling live bands. For every old supporter who bemoaned the way James smoothed some of the rough edges from their early, quirky noise, there were 100 new converts.

The first obvious sign of the band’s rapidly rising status came when their single “How Was It For You?” went Top 30 in May. It was a glorious, uplifting summer song, a celebration of post-coital euphoria entirely free from laddish sexual boasting. “Gold Mother”, the album released in June, confirmed that it was no fluke. James were just as convincing being coldly furious and determined (“Government Walls”) or achingly lonely and vulnerable (You Cant Tell How Much Happiness (sic) [On A Face That’s Always Smiling)”.

A series of major live triumphs began around the same time. James were one of the biggest hits of the Glastonbury Festival despite an unpromising mid-afternoon time slot, and that was followed by two sold-out, delirious nights at Blackpool’s huge Empress Ballroom. Meanwhile, a remixed version of the surging, anthemic “Come Home” became James second hit single in July.

The year ended with more major label live dates – an AIDS benefit at Brixton Academy, and two nights back on home ground at Manchester G-Mex-and another hit single. “Lose Control” sees James making a diversion into dance music without compromising their character.

James’ big breakthrough was undoubtedly helped by the baggy movement, but they’re too unashamedly intelligent to be part of that tribe. They were unstoppable this year – and their momentum is still building.

Ready to finish off 1990 with a flourish are James. One-time prisoners of Factory Records, before being transported seemingly for life to the badlands of American major label Sire, James have grown up and lost a few like-minded souls on the way. And they have emerged in the past 18 months as a dead certainty for international recognition.

Monday sees the release of their third single for Fontana records. As their previous vinyl outings Come Home and How Was It For You? missed out on being big hits by a couple of hundred sales, is there any pressure for the band to have a top 20 smash with their new three-track EP?

James lead vocalist Tim Booth is quick to scotch that one:

“Not at all, really, in fact the record company wanted us to reissue Sit Down. But as our last single was a reissue, we felt it important to put something new out – only this time it’s an EP, although the A-side is called Lose Control.

“We’ve also done a different kind of cover of The Velvet Underground’s Sunday Morning, and I’ve put a few references on it to New York and drug addiction in a narrative at the end of the single, pertaining to the fact that I’m wandering the streets of New York looking for my man to score some sweet Jane, but he’s not around because it’s Sunday Morning. I think it’s less Lou Reed and more James.” So how successful are James at the moment?

“Well, it depends on what you call success? Our LP Gold Mother has gone silver. We were really pleased the way the album turned out, and we’ve already written most of the songs for our next album which we’ll be recording in January and will be produced by Gil Norton, who’s produced The Pixies stuff. Oh, and we are off for a tour of Russia just before Christmas, playing in Leningrad, Moscow and various other places in the frozen steppe lands.

Why would the Russians be interested in James? I thought they were all into Elton John, Billy Joel and Cliff Richard?

“Well, we’ll be a pleasant antidote to that kind of stuff. I’m looking forward to playing there, although we’ll be bringing cans of beans with us as there are some major food shortages there.”

Were you disappointed that How Was It For You? and Come Home weren’t hit singles?

“Yes, but only because we missed out on Top Of The Pops by a couple of places. We couldn’t get any daytime radio play for those particular singles, probably because of the sexual content in the lyrics, which was annoying as they weren’t sexual insofar as they were suggesting anything immoral. In fact, we missed out on having the video for How Was It For You shown on television as the video had me singing underwater. Probably afraid someone might copy me and drown.”

James have, it would seem, arrived to save pop from over-hype and stagnation. When they supported David Bowie at Maine Road this year, it was widely known that Mr Bowie selects his own support acts. They supported The Cure at Wembley and stole the show at Glastonbury. On the famous long-sleeved t-shirt front, Beats International had a couple of members performing on Top Of The Pops wearing James t-shirts, and the band are now in a position to easily sellout 2,000 capacity venues all over the country. So has Tim Booth changed over the past few years from overly thoughtful indie rebel to sexy growling rock n roller?

Tim laughs “Certainly not changed in that way. I think I’m mutating slowly.”

Jim : My name’s Jim from James. It’s named after me actually because I’m the most talented and best looking in the band.

So I started playing bass guitar and about two weeks after I got it, we did our first gig, we couldn’t do anything, after two weeks of playing guitar you can’t do anything, nothing. We practised in the scout hut and the scoutmaster used to play acoustic guitar and sit round singing “Gingangooly”. We used to get him to tune the guitars then carry them on the bus trying not to bang the machine heads and knock them out of tune. So I got him to tune the bass and we went and did this gig. The singer, I got this lad to sing and he decided he wasn’t going to do it, totally bottled out, so I volunteered to sing, so I got really pissed, totally ratarsed and got up and made some noises in the microphone. The British Legion in Eccles.

Larry : I’d been in quite a few bands and I decided I was going to give up and I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life. I started to give guitar lessons. Paul, the original guitarist, and Jim were my first pupils and I began to realise they weren’t responding to it, playing chords in a certain way, they had their own distinctive style. They invited me down to a couple of practices and that’s where the trouble really started. I went down to the practice and I expected them to be doing things like influential covers and whatever and after about five minutes or something like that they’d play this noise and certain things you could start hearing music in it. It was very random, very abstract but there was something in it.

Tim : We’ve got a tradition, that’s how we feel. We’re really proud of all our old records, right from the start, the awkward ones as much as now. And we just follow our path and we can’t alter that path to get rich or to get famous. Our path is our path.

Jim : We think we’ve managed to keep some integrity as people and in the music through a lot of hard times and we have gone through a lot of hard times. And you know we think the music’s great. We think the music’s very special.

Obviously there’s going to be a lot of challenges there and a lot of rubbish individually that we’ve got to come to terms with. I mean if you’ve got like tonight you’ve got 12,000 people telling you how amazing you are, it’s hard not to rub off and for you to go “Yeah, I am, aren’t I?”

Larry : Sometimes I think we really deserve it when we do a fantastic concert and I know the audience are cheering, they’re not just cheering us, they’re cheering what’s been happening, what’s coming off the stage, what reaction it’s having. And that they’re being lifted, you’re being lifted and it really comes together.

There’s different kinds of relationships within the three of us. Sometimes I’ve been closer to Tim, other times I’ve been closer to Jim. It changes a lot like that. Now there’s seven of us, the interaction is that much greater. There are some very solid friendships and there are some acquaintances.

If there’s one thing we got criticised for around 1985-86 from people who saw us live, they loved what we were doing but we were very insular. The audience just stood and watched these people on stage and there was no interaction between us and the audience whatsoever. And it was a criticism that got through to us that we can’t stand in the audience and see how we are and we could tell from what they were saying that yes it was true. So in a way we had to learn to open up what we were doing on stage to the audience so that they could see what was going on.

Tim : Adrenalin produces a fight or flight reaction. and we tend to fight. But you get this kind of “Woooaaahhh”, real buzz.

The people who come and see our concerts, they have really high expectations. You know you’ve got to top the gig you did last time, it’s at that level.

The lyrics are quite hard and they’re often self-critical or self-abusive. So I think the audience wouldn’t think I was a particularly nice person. I don’t try to make myself out to be a particularly nice person. I just try to write lyrics that reflect me. Some of them are not nice and some of them are. Some of them are funny and some of them are quite depressed. There’s a big variety in there.

The early James, for years we used to hate it. And we used to keep out heads down and play and keep really quiet and I used to dance very aggressively.

But now most of the concerts are really good but only a few of them are magical. For us. You can’t sleep. That’s the whole night gone and you’re not going to sleep. And you just feel very alive. And that’s wonderful.

Top Manchester band James are busy rushing round city centre shops equipping themselves with stocks of canned vegetables and warm winter woolies – they are the first of the new wave of the city’s pop stars to tour the Soviet Union starting on Thursday.

Singer Tim Booth and the rest of the seven-piece band will brave temperatures of below 20 degrees to play to around 14,000 people in Lithuania, Latvia, Russia, Estonia and the Ukraine in venues that include an aircraft factory in Kiev and “The Cultural Palace of Construction” in Archangel, a port on the Arctic Circle’s White Sea.

It will be a far cry from the massive G-Mex Centre in Manchester where they played to 18,000 fans over two nights on Friday and Saturday.

The band’s record company Phonogram doesn’t have a distribution deal in the Soviet Union.

Manager Martine McDonagh says “It’s not a promotional tour for selling records – the band want to do something different.”

The band play at seven venues in five nation-states, including some trying to secede from the Soviet Union.

But agent Nick Hobbs says : “The band won’t be in any trouble where they’re going. The biggest problem is that they are all vegetarians and in the Soviet Union, being a vegetarian is as useful as speaking Chinese”

Martine assures me that the band are taking adequate supplies. She adds “Our records aren’t sold there, so it will be interesting to see what they make of the band. Apparently, everyone from grannies to little children turn up to watch.”

Last weekend, James packed out the 9,000 capacity G-Mex venue. It was an amazing feat – they haven’t even had a Top 30 single.

James have been around for years and have probably shifted more schmutter than vinyl – rumours are that they have grossed over £1/2 million in T-shirt sales this year alone.

But the charts should beckon with the new single Lose Control. Singer Tim Booth’s charismatic personality, and the powerful rock music of the seven-piece outfit, have been knocking on the door so long that their bad luck has become a cliche on the city’s scene.

If one Manchester band have the potential to become a stadium rock band on the scale of Simple Minds or U2 it’s James. The fact that they, like other guitar-based bands, haven’t had the success of the Mondays/Inspirals/Roses axis says more about fashion than music.

Other brilliant artists without major chart recognition – Yargo, MC Buzz B and The Railway Children spring to mind – soldier on, confident that tastes will come round to their music.

Take our hand and let us lead you through 72 hours on the road with James – herbal tea and guarana-driven wholemeal bread-heads back from the dead and on a hometown rampage in a Ned’s t-shirt (small).

“It’s such a feeling yeeeah! It’s such a feeling Wooooah!” Blitzed out of their minds at two in the morning, a group of sleet-soaked lads in office suits stumble merrily through the gnawing cold of central Manchester, belching out the rising coda to How Was It For You?

Three hours after witnessing the celebratory communion of James final G-Mex show, they have alco-smashed out of company-car consciousness into a state of heightened oblivion.

The song that they’re bellowing is a viciously penned meditation on the psychology of abandoning yourself to drink and drugs, but I don’t think they can give a flying f__k about that. They’re having a fine time as it is. Probably better than if they’d been to see Gary Glitter’s Christmas Gang Show.

That was the last warbling echo of three days on the road with James that had started on the most chilling note possible, and ended with a grin. The 48 hours that turned in 72 hours had been but 30 minutes old when the dread realisation dawned that it would be absolutely unthinkable to ask Tim Booth the top pop triv question “What did you have for breakfast this morning?” Armed with a battery of crushingly banal enquiries the journalist sloped into the backstage catering room of James gig at Brixton Academy, prepared to smugly trivialise into Milli-Vanillidom the Oedipally fixated, quiche eating, earnest pop misfits James, with their holier than thou Jesus sandals intelligence and intacto integrity. Un-funnily enough, that isn’t how it worked out.

Fifteen minutes amidst the backstage atmosphere of veggie cooking, polite sobriety and intense preparation and the journalist is listening straight-faced to Tim Booth explaining that they have a masseuse backstage to help them relax before a concert. “Better than getting stoned,” suggests the snide journalist. “We don’t do drugs,” snaps Tim, convincingly. Then he’s off, enthusing about David Lynch’s re-invention of 50’s pop, speculating on the expected weirdness of the band’s pre-Christmas tour of Russia and dipping into a quick appraisal of Czech novelists. “I’m more into Kundera than Kafka,” says Tim, like someone who’s actually read the books. “Kafka’s not very good with sex, is he?” And finally, the hammer blow to mockery is delivered in the form of an innocent looking fax.

The fax is a letter from the family of a young James fan who died tragically this summer. The kid had a ticket to see James in Manchester and the family’s request is that Tim dedicated a song to him at their G-Mex show. It would mean a lot to them. There is a gobsmacked silence backstage as Tim stares at the letter.

“We’ve had a few like that,” he says. “I’d rather you didn’t mention it, actually.” Many hours later, when I suggest to Tim that it must be frightening for a mere pop group to become involved with such serious feelings, he agrees to having the letter mentioned.

“I’m just worried because there’s a real fine line between something like that happening and exploiting it,” says Tim. “I don’t want to be like the politican after a disaster, turning up at the hospital to kiss the injured. But it has happened a few times and it’s really touching and things like that really move you.”

You’re not scared by it then?

“No. Because when I was 17 someone like Patti Smith was hugely important in my life. Hugely important. Like a complete lifeline in an environment that I felt was totally hostile. And there was suddenly something that I could totally relate to, and made me feel that I wasn’t crazy after all. And I feel that we supply that for some people, and in that respect, I don’t see us like a pop group at all.”

“That’s what Sit Down’s about, and that’s why they particularly respond to that song. Y’know ‘I’m relieved to hear that you’ve been to some far out places/’Cause it’s hard to carry on when you feel all alone.’ It’s a song for the darkest hour.”

“So it doesn’t frighten me. I’m really happy when people take us that seriously. Because I’ve taken things that seriously, and they’ve helped me that much, and stopped me going crazy, and made me feel that I could keep going.”

Spending three days on the road with James at this stage of their existence is like watching the tightrope walker half way over towards applause and bow-taking. Ahead of them lies a prize that says “Most Important Band Since…” Beneath them on the sawdust lie the mangled windbag bodies of Rock Hams who overdid it – Bono, Kerr, Gary Glitter and friends.

In the past 12 months, James have gone from being a seven-year running, cult Manc soap opera to prime-time networked public exposure. This year, resigned to a major label, they hit the Top 40 for the first time with How Was It For You? and Come Home. Their summer World Cup tour ended triumphantly with two glorious nights in Blackpool. Their Gold Mother album, the first time they’d come close to capturing their deep power on an LP, went silver. And their T-shirts were everywhere.

Now, on a brief pre-Christmas tour of major league venues, including two sell out nights in the enorma-dome of G-Mex, they are being interviewed and videoed like never before and meeting the kind of over-the-top audience reaction that would’ve embarrassed Christ into retirement.

At James Brixton show, despite the set lacking their usual fire (although Tim is as fascinatingly energised as ever) the entire audience follows the pre-set tradition of folding to the floor and dancing cross-legged on their bums for Sit Down. They look like worshippers at the feet of Maharishi Tim. When Sit Down’s euphoric, anthemic rallying cry for the alienated (with its Gary Glitter Rock n Roll Part One drum intro) is re-released next year, James will have to dance pretty clever to avoid becoming the type of band they’ve always hated.

“I feel embarrassed when everyone sits down,” says Tim. “That’s probably the primary…. No it isn’t… You get mixed emotions. You’re really touched, a bit embarrassed, and you’re a bit frightened. Ultimately, it’s really moving, but I’m up there panicking, thinking ‘How long before it becomes a cliche?'”

“We’re worried about this song. I’m frightened of Sit Down becoming the only song that people want to come and hear. But, James is so awkward that I swear that if it got out of hand we’d stop playing it.”

“It’s getting that balance between showmanship and it being real. Like tonight, you could say I was performing, and in one way I was. but I felt totally convinced of what I was doing.”

Are you ever worried that you’re turning into Gary Glitter?

“F–k off! But on other nights I’ve gone on and felt really embarrassed and my body’s felt awkward. Everything I’ve done has felt like a performance. What I’m trying to do is make a distinction between hollow theatere and …. Well it might just be the distinction between bad theatricality and good, between striking postures and poses, which is what most rock is about, and a theatricality where I’m totally into what I’m doing, so I’m totally convinced… And it’s a weird state to be in.”

These are indeed weird times for James as they attempt to cope with the transition into the big rock world without becoming caricatures. They do, however, have certain built-in advantages in that respect. Like an off-stage unobtrusiveness that borders on invisibility.

The ‘after gig drink’ at Brixton Academy is about as wild as a Sunday afternoon spent reading the papers in a country pub. The next day’s flight up to Manchester passes completely without incident. And when they arrive at the airport, Tim, who is yet to sleep after the Brixton show (having eschewed the traditional frontman’s post-gig relaxant of eight cans of Red Stripe and a spliff) heads for bed.

Then, in the afternoon, the arguments start. After soundchecking (intensely) in the imposing empty hulk of the G-Mex the band sit in the catering room, running through the day’s business. First up is a lengthy and unresolved discussion over who should produce the next single. I vote for Lee Perry, but noone seems to go for this. Then the daily grudge match over the set list (which they change every night) begins. Starring Tim, guitarist Larry, bassist Jim and James manager (and Mum to the Booth family baby) Martine, it goes like this.

“Are these just songs we can rearrange in any order then?”

“I’m doing that because I’m a difficult bastard”

“I’m not happy. There’s too many slow ones.”

“I’m going to do that one if I have to do a f–kin’ vocal solo.”

“What about the lighting people?”

“You’re interfering”

“Alright then. Write the f–kin’ thing out yourself.”

At the front of G-Mex, £40,000 worth of James T-shirts are being set out on the merchandising stalls. In the production office, the video crew for the next night are fighting for backstage passes. Does it ever bother you, I ask Jim, trumpeter Andy and garrulous violinist Saul, that Tim gets all the attention/.

Jim : “No. Well, a teensie weensie bit. But it’s just one of those things. We know what we put into James but it’s just like you’ve got to remember that. Then there’s like a f–kin’ article in the paper and it’s like ‘Tim Booth and his backing band’ But you can’t get too pissed off about that.”

Saul : “He’s very popular on the roar-o-meter”

Do you ever worry he’s turning into Gary Glitter?

Jim : “All the time, actually. Yeah, if he wears any more…. No, but do you think it’s a bit over-dramatic? I think sometimes we walk a fine line, especially when gigs aren’t going well. We act.”

Saul : “We’ve become really big, like this big powerful sound. I’d like to hear it going a bit weirder.”

So you argue a lot?

Jim : “Yeah, all the time”

Andy : “We do hate each other. Quite a lot.”

On the first night at G-Mex, the Booth-chosen moody intro track of Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game gives way to the screams and hooting claxons of the footy-sized and predominantly dead young James audience. In a set of escalating brilliance, the band carry off their mellower moments (like the haunting new single Lose Control) with ease. They adrenalin whip through the rush and rattle songs (Whoops, Bring A Gun, Johnny Yen) and supply anthems-a-plenty with What For, Come Home and Sit Down. Spasm dancing like a man with 40,000 volts up his bum, and even clambering into the crowd at one point, Booth is a consummately wired focus.

James show no sign of having a problem with projecting themselves into the hall of Rock Hugeness. And it is something of a medium-sized miracle to witness a band who have made few – if any – accommodations to bagginess, putting over songs about God, sex, soul-suffering and madness to 9,000(ish) Manc raver teens. Especially since that band comprises (trivia fans) a worrying guilt-racked Correspondent(RIP)-reading singer (Tim), a Jack Nicholson fan, family-man guitarist (Larry), a sly, Viz-reading bassist (Jim), a dress-wearing trumpeter (Andy), a neurotic Nabokov-reading violinist (Saul), a non-talking keyboardist (Mark) and a right-on drummer (David) who plays Welsh dance music in his spare time. It’s all a bit ‘against all odds’.

But there are moment at G-Mex, like when Tim sombrely introduces Stutter as ‘a song about losing your faculties; and a unseemly number of fans scream “Woooaah! Yesssss!”, when you have to wonder. You have to wonder whether James newly widened audience actually gives a nana about all that agonised stuff.

After the first night in Manchester, The Most Intense Man In The World, now in the grip of post-gig adrenalin fever, eyes me even more intensely than usual. So I put it to him that some of the fans seem to be just waiting for the sing-a-long songs. And mighn’t he just as well be singing ‘We’re all going down the pub’ as ‘God only knows’?

“Is this a wind-up or do you actually feel that?” says Tim, taking a deep breath. “A lot of my lyrics are quite dark and quite sad, but the audience take it and turn it into a celebration. And that’s lovely. So the more twisted we can make it, and it still be a celebration… That’s a wonderful contradiction.”

“It’s harder to pull off slow sets in Britain now, because people are used to the adrenalin buzz with James. But we can play slow songs and hold an audience. Maybe you have a point, but I’m not interested in that. I’m not interested in becoming a figure of popular appeal if that means we get castrated in the process.”

The Saturday afternoon following the first G-Mex show, Manchester is lashed by the sleet and snow of the nationwide cold snap, presumably summoned up by James new line in snowflake T-shirts. Two hours before the G-Mex doors open there are already 20 or so of the younger and bloody stupider of the woolly-hatted hordes getting ice-whipped outside the venue.

Inside, James have reconvened to go through the day’s picky preparations all over again. There is an added tension in the air caused by the presence of the video crew, there to document the show. After a sleepless night spent wrestling with erotic thoughts in a hotel room which “smelled of sex”, Tim Booth is nevertheless up for a chat about, erm, sensory depravation tanks and mind expansion.

There is a none too serious but noticeable difference between Tim and the rest of James. You talk to Larry about his family. Saul will joke around confessing to scenes of “disgusting greed” when the band were recently presented with a roomful of free Levi’s gear. With Tim, however, the tone is unavoidably analytical. Tortured, almost. Already on this tour, he has lost enough weight to mean that his free Levis no longer fit. Usually he loses about a stone on tour. The previous night, Tim had been led to ponder on how a weirdo (anxious, doubt-ridden variety) like him, copes with being in showbiz (sort of)

“Erm…Phew! I think I’m probably fairly schizophrenic. So I can switch into another mode as well. There’s a whole load of politics that go with being in a band that we payed no heed to for the first seven years, and as a result didn’t get anywhere near publicity. Now we pay heed to a whole load of games…. interviews, photographs, shaking hands, kissing babies… eating babies. And only once or twice does my… I mean, I have done some things which are diplomatically highly incorrect.”

You seem like this controlled person who’s fighting a constant battle to maintain that control. “Mmmm Lose control? The image of Lose Control is I think more important to me as an idea of breaking out of personality, breaking out of physical limits. Not so much going mad, just wanting to push reality to its limits, to see if there’s anything more.

“I’m quite confrontational. I’m not a particularly easy person to be around. And to really want to push a song, like OK, where’s that going to?… And the same with myself. Push my body. Y’know, how much can I do? That’s really a big drive.

“That’s the idea of losing control…. ‘Shake my body, release my soul’ Y’know, break out of this, Because I think a lot of the time, people are really trapped within their own personalities. Really bored with themselves. And I can get really trapped in myself and it’s like wanting to f–kin break out… and to scream. Some people have said I’m starting to repeat myself in songs, but I think I’m getting more to the point of what I want to say. I’m saying it more clearly.”

Isn’t it all impossible? A bit mad?

“No, I don’t think so. And listen, I think it’s very common. I think that’s why people drink. I think that’s why people take drugs. I mean everyone’s trying to do it all the time. But I don’t want to do it artificially. Or at least, not very often. Because it has too much of a damaging effect. You know…. be careful, it’s big medicine.”

Sixty milligrams of Coenzyme Q 10 natural energy capsules have just slooshed down into Tim Booth’s stomach. Around him in a non-smoking zone dressing room littered with Guarana packets, health drinks and the odd beer, the rest of James are getting ready for the final show. Larry has been put into a state of nerves by the video crew who asked him how it felt to be adored by 9,000 people. “I didn’t know what to say,” he confesses. “I just sort of sat there looking embarrassed. I thought I’d get used to it all by my age.”

Dave is pulling on his ‘F–king F–k’ sloganed T-shirt. Saul is worrying that the snow has kept the fans away. And Tim is standing in front of a mirror trying to work out what to wear. “Motherf–ker! F–k I’m angry tonight. Or at least I’m trying to get angry. Bollocks.” Tim sighs, frowning at the pile of shirts crumpled on the floor. “It’s just the idea that it’s going to be on video. I wouldn’t give a shit otherwise.”

The doorway that opens onto the backstage area at G-Mex sends a sunburst of white TV camera lights out into the darkened arena where the swaying hollering James fans wait in near hysterical mood for the band to walk on stage. Eight years ago, James first photographs were taken outside the G-Mex building when it was still Manchester Central Station. Then they were still too self-effacing to even look at the camera. Tonight they jog on stage to face the crowd roar with a TV camera shoved up each of their noses.

From Tim Booth’s entrance on top of the speaker stacks, through to the moment near the end where he dervlish-dances himself into near unconsciousness and has to crawl stage-side for oxygen, the final show is pure drama. A truly uplifting mesh of black thrills and ecstatic pop. Fainting teenagers are dragged out of the crowd throughout. When James drop the volume half way through Sit Down, the entire audience sings the chorus, unaccompanied, for a full five minutes. It is shamefully, inescapably moving.

Tim Booth dedicates the encore to three fans who have died during the year and somehow, one James-ette dodges past the security men to scramble on stage and skip around madly during How Was It For You?. Bono would have made a show out of that. Booth, the canny bastard, just carries on dancing himself stupid. For two hours at G-Mex, James were the most important band since….

“You slag Morrissey off you do, you f–king bastards”

A sweat-soaked James cub standing next to me at G-Mex has sussed out that I work for the NME and is spitting Moz fervour in my ear. So I ask her James Corps friend, who seems a little less likely to stab me, if she thinks Tim Booth is like Gary Glitter.

“Naaah” she says “Gary Glitter wears platform boots. Tim Booth wears Jesus sandals.”

Thank Christ for a sense of humour.

“We were very naive back in 83” Tim had told me earlier. “We thought we’d be stadium level… I was dragged to a Bruce Springsteen concert, and I thought ‘Corny old American’ but it blew me away. Not really the music because it wasn’t very original, but it was more the heart of how much he was giving. I always wanted to be in a band that was like that.”

Surely though, Tim, you can’t expect that the commitment and intensity of James is all that’s going to come across? Isn’t it OK to be a clown as well as a poet?

“No, the jester thing I didn’t like. Being a jester sounds too weak. It would have to be more like a psychotic jester, nearly getting executed for saying all the wrong things at all the wrong times. Humour is very important, but becoming a wacky band, or donning loads of costumes… ‘know, it’s got to be hard. The songs have got to be hard.”

So in that case it wouldn’t really be appropriate to ask you what you had for breakfast?”

“Hash browns. Button mushrooms. Baked beans.”

And for the one and only time in my three days with the nearly un-mockable James, Tim Booth actually laughs.

Best Single – Wicked Game (Chris Isaak)

Best Album – The Good Son (Nick Cave)

Most Despicable Record – Most of the rest

Best Gig – The Pixies at the Manchester Apollo

Best Film / TV Show – The Cook, The Thief… (I saw it this year)

Most Memorable Experience – I can’t remember

What Did You Spend Most Money On? – My desires

Non-Event of 1990 – Political parties becoming greener

Person Who Made The Most Impact : Robert Anton Wilson

More than 1,000 fans were unable to make it to the sell out concert on December 8 due to the Arctic weather sweeping the North, but the band have pledged to make it up to them by allowing them to swap unused tickets for gigs on their 1991 spring tour.

Full details of the dates will be announced early next year, by which time the group hope to have completed the follow-up to their ‘Gold Mother’ LP.

Pitiful was an unreleased song played at Newcastle Mayfair on 3rd December 1990. No other record of performance exists.

The show was partially released as a bootleg vinyl in the early 1990s.

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A special James promotional booklet from Melody Maker in 1991.

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Interview with Tim at the Hacienda on MTV 120 Minutes

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James supported Happy Mondays as part of Great British Music Weekend.

Mr S, Sounds

The backdrop is swathed in floating flowers and Mysteron hoops as James belt out “Come Home” and “How Was It For You?”, Tim Booth looking like the unlikeliest teen idol yet with his Ten Pole Tudor chic and odd fondness for showing off fingers of snot to the cameras. “We thought you’d only be into dance music,” says this disgusting but charming front-man, clearly amazed by the warm reception he’s getting.

“Sit Down” is rapturously received and, as James climax with a flurry of scything violins and furious rocking axe-work accompanied by a mad strobe-light frenzy, you can’t help feeling that very soon they’re going to be massive.

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Official Press Release

Date: February 1991

Formed in 1983, James turbulent career finally came good in 1990. Their ‘Gold Mother’ LP went silver, their dates at Blackpool’s Empress Ballroom, Glastonbury, Maine Road (with Bowie), Crystal Palace (with The Cure) saw them build up a fanatically loyal live following, while James’s t-shirts became an essential fashion item for indie kids up and down the country. The band also had their first top forty hits with ‘How Was It For You?’ and ‘Come Home’.

Originally signed to Factory Records seven years ago, they released two cult hits, ‘What’s The World’ (later covered by The Smiths) and ‘Hymn From A Village’ plus the ‘Village Fire’ EP. Signing to Sire in 1985, the group put out two albums ‘Stutter’ and ‘Strip-Mine’ during an awkward three-year relationship with the label.

Leaving Sire, James pursued an independent path once more, releasing a live album ‘One Man Clapping’ through Rough Trade Records.

Following the departure of original drummer Gavin Whelan, the nucleus of James – vocalist / lyricist Tim Booth, bass player Jim Glennie and guitarist Larry Gott – injected a new harder edge to their sound with the addition of Dave Baynton-Power on drums.

Following two of the biggest indie hits of 89 – ‘Sit Down’ and ‘Come Home’, James had their freshly recorded ‘Gold Mother’ album released by Fontana.

Expanding to a seven-piece with man of many instruments Saul Davies, keyboard player Mark Hunter and Andy Diagram on trumpet, the new look James bounced into the charts with ‘How Was It For You?’ and ‘Come Home’.

The group ended the year with a new single ‘Lose Control’, two triumphant hometown Manchester shows and a short tour of Russia’s major cities.

Coming bang up to date, James release a re-recorded version of their live classic ‘Sit Down’ on 18 March 1991. Out on Fontana, the seven-inch version of ‘Sit Down’ is produced by Gil Norton and mixed by Dave Bascombe. The b-side is backed by a nine minute version of ‘Sit Down’ recorded live at Manchester G-Mex last December.

A full length live video, filmed at the December G-Mex gig is released on 15 April 1991, while an hour long TV version of the gig is to be transmitted by Granada on 27 March 1991.

The group are currently recording their new album which is set for Autumn release – a massive UK tour is being booked to coincide with the release.

Like the other Manchester favourites covered this month, the Chameleons, it seemed that James would miss out on success But after recordings for three labels, including a nightmare ordeal with Sire, the band are currently residing at Fontana, which has finally given them the long-overdue taste of chart action that they were always promised. 1990 also saw James touring consistently to encouraging live reviews, which included headlining the Glastonbury Festival, a two-sell-out stint at Blackpool’s Empress Ballroom, and the recent end-of-year bashes in London and Manchester.

Unlike several recent bands who’ve made the crossover from indie to national charts, however, James are anything but a flash in the pan. Centred around a nucleus of Tim Booth (vocals), James ‘Larry’ Gott (guitar) and James ‘Jim’ Glennie (bass), the band have been augmented by a variety of other musicians since their inception in the early Eighties, apparently sparked by Jim Glennie after a school mate bought a stolen guitar!. These early days of the band’s career, which included drummer Gavan Whelan, remain shrouded in mystery to all but a few. And the band always tended to distance themselves from the public eye, so much so that they shunned the chance of front cover prominence on NME’s 1985 new year issue, arguing that they wanted to introduce the band “by music, not by words”. In these formative years, James were rumoured to have led the archetypal wild rock’n’roll lifestyle, until a close friend became ill and ended up in prison. This had a profound effect on the group, who are reputed to have dramatically changed their ways. They became vegans, much to the delight of the press, who often tagged them as ‘loony Buddhists’, but James may have taken matters a little too far by organising teetotal gigs with veggie food on offer!

Numerous low-key local gigs in and around Manchester attracted the city’s premier independent, Factory, and in 1983, James issued their debut EP, ” Jimone”. Engineered by Chris Nagel (who more recently twiddled the knobs on the Charlatans’ excellent debut single}, the record’s child-like cover endeared itself to many, with the gentle sound of “Folklore”, the absurd rhythms of “Fire So Close” and the classic “What’s The World”, which still remains in the current live James set.

Much has been made of Mornssey’s fondness for James, and he too must have been entranced by their aura, since James found themselves supporting the Smiths (fresh from a ‘Top Of The Pops’ appearance for “This Charming Man”), at the legendary “Manchester Explodes” night at the Hacienda. Neatly coinciding with the release of “Jimone”, this event is surely destined to be the stuff of ‘folklore’.

The Smiths paid James the ultimate compliment by releasing an excellent cover version of “What’s The World”. This can only be found on the extremely limited “I Started Something I Couldn’t Finish” cassingle, (Rough Trade RTT 198C), which now commands a price in excess of £10.

For their next single, the aptly titled “James II”, the band employed the excellent production skills of Nick Garside to produce a pop classic, and possibly my favourite single of all time. “Hymn From A Village” was a scathing attack on the pop world and has become a dancefloor favourite for all those who have worshipped its crafted beauty. The plaintive B-side, “If Things Were Perfect”, was equally memorable, and no doubt helped “James II” to enjoy a 31-week residency in the ‘NME’ independent chart, peaking at the top. This was sustained by a later 12″, entitled “Village Fire”, combining both singles, which is still available despite being difficult to obtain in some areas – although watch out for vastly inflated prices on this item.

Fans had also been drawn by the allure of John Carroll’s wonderfully bizarre sleeve drawings, which complement the band’s songs perfectly.

With further live dates with the Smiths (a band they are often compared to, but sound nothing like!), and rave reviews in the press (‘Sounds’ hailed them as “pop gods and saviours of rock and roll”), it seemed that James could do no wrong. Doubtless impressed by their high U.K. profile, they were snapped up by Seymour Stein’s huge American conglomerate, Sire. The band saw this as their path to fame and fortune, but it almost brought about their ultimate destruction. They found themselves locked into a contract where they were owned “throughout the universe” by Sire, and were never to earn more than £30 a week! Problems with lack of communication and funds dogged James throughout their years with Sire, and this sad plight was detailed on Granada TV’s “Out Of Order” consumer watchdog programme. As Jim Glennie phrased it on the show, “We signed to Sire on a high. ..but things stopped, basically”. Indeed, there was a suspiciously long gap before the first fruits of the Sire deal were unleashed on the public. The band’s then manager, Elliot Rashman (of Simply Red fame) later said the band had fallen foul of Sire’s “sign ’em and see what happens. .. but don’t spend any money in the meantime” musical policy. It also seems that the Soup Dragons suffered from Sire’s anti-midas touch – like James, they managed to escape their clutches and bounce back with a truly merited top ten success last year.

By the time “Chain Mail” was issued, the press had moved on, and much of the momentum gained by their Factory singles seemed lost. With its high-pitched vocals, “Chain Mail” was a more polished affair but suffered from Lenny Kaye’s suffocating production that seemed to restrain the band’s free-flowing rhythms. Backed by the funky “Hup-Springs” on the 7″ with additional, almost Caribbean-like “Uprising” on the strangely titled “Sit Down” 12″ EP, the single saw James diversify, but is still a worthy investment. Incidentally, like many other singles, the 7″ and 12″ utilise completely different artwork, which has encouraged fans to seek out both formats. The 12″ of “Chain Mail” is becoming increasingly difficult to find, and is now valued at over £20.

The next single, “So Many Ways”, was obviously a trailer for their debut album, which was to appear later that month, with possibly the finest James sleeve design adorning the 12″. The lead song was almost anthemic, but still contained a moody and reflective ‘dark’ element characteristic of James’ early work. The speedy delights of the forthcoming LP track “Withdrawn” surfaced on the flip, while the 12″ added the bizarre “Just Hipper”, a mish-mash of a song that sounded like an impromptu studio jam. A rarely seen video for the single featured Tim Booth showing his eccentric dancing ‘skills’ (so much a part of the early James live experience) to the best of his ability. Like “Chain Mail”, the 7″ for “So Many Ways” can be found for £10-£12, but again the 12″ is very rare, and probably the hardest to find. Although a price tag of £25 would be reasonable, it could well fetch far more if offered for auction.

James’ debut album, “Stutter”, was an eleven-song collection of erratic and unorthodox rhythms and lyrics, and proved a confusing release that gave many reviewers a shock to the system. Described as ‘too English’ (whatever that means!), the deluge of musical influences, dominated by medieval and folk elements, created a sound that the listener had to become immersed in – and was definitely not one for casual background accompaniment. From the opening track, “Skullduggery”, (which Booth later dismissed as “too wacky”) to the closing cut “Black Hole” (surprisingly resurrected at Blackpool last year), “Stutter” can best be summed up as quirky. All tracks from “So Many Ways” were included (although a calmer “Just Hipper” was renamed), alongside the excellent “Scarecrow” and “Johnny Yen”, and “Why So Close, a moving acoustic rendition of “Fire So Close” from their first EP. After mediocre reviews from confused reviewers, the press turned about tail and praised the band’s WOMAD festival appearance that year.

Then, nothing. James tried to release new material, but Sire wanted them to wait. They tried to tour, but were told not to, because they had nothing to promote. Next, their manager resigned, to add a further nail in the coffin that was seemingly being built for them. Eventually, the band got to work on their second album, “Strip Mine”, which was finished in March 1987. But its release was continually delayed and then halted completely with the arrival of a new manager, Elliot Rashman. He felt the LP needed completely remixing and the band agreed. It was some months before this could be financed, so in the meantime James recorded a John Peel session in August 1987 containing “Yaho”, “What For”, “Whoops” and the as yet unreleased classic “Stowaway”. With virtually no income, band members found themselves testing drugs for £10 per day at a local hospital so they could continue rehearsing full time.

A glimmer of hope came with Sire’s agreement to fund the “Strip Mine” remix. This decision apparently coincided with the Smiths’ demise from the ‘intelligent pop’ end of the market (presumably how Sire saw it); James were seen as successors to some vacant throne.

Almost two years after their last release, “What for” appeared as the band’s fifth single. Remixed by Steve Power, it was a striking uptempo pop song – far more commercial than any previous offerings. Indeed, the accompanying video was even aired on Saturday morning children’s’ TV, and the band performed the song live on Granada’s “Other Side Of Midnight” show, which has consistently supported up-and-coming Manchester bands. Backed by “Island Swing” on the 7″ and an extra track, “Not There” on the 12″ and limited library case cassingle, the single received favourable reviews, which the band celebrated with a handful of dates, including a home- town gig in May 1988, supported by none other than the Stone Roses (“We’ve never supported anyone” indeed!). “What For” is the most common Sire single, but all formats still command a high price, such is the current demand for James product. Completists should note the existence of a 12″ promo combining two versions of “What For” plus a short band interview, which can normally be secured for around £12.

The next single, “Yaho”, was a strange affair. Since it bore an earlier catalogue number than “What For”, it would seem that it was held back only to reappear several months later. Drawn from “Strip Mine”, “Yaho” was backed on 12″ by three amazingly individualistic tracks of an almost hillbilly nature, of which “Mosquito” remains one of James’. finest moments. Both formats are difficult to find, especially the 12″.

Nearly 18 months after completion, the remixed second LP “Strip Mine” reached the light of day, to scathing criticism from manager Rashman. He complained bitterly of the “bog standard promotion” for a group he rightly believed should have reached top international status by then. “Strip Mine” was sadly soon forgotten, ignoring the genius that clearly shone through on the pure pop of “Charlie Dance”, “What For” and “Are You Ready?”, perfectly contrasting darker songs like “Riders” and “Medieval”. The selective live dates to promote the album were supported by the latest Factory hopefuls Happy Mondays, then still relatively unknown, who owed more than a passing debt to James’ sound.

Further disaster struck, when drummer Gavan Whelan left the band. And locked into a horrible contract, the rest of the group were trapped, and feeling at an all-time low. Amazingly, Sire wouldn’t release them, even though the label were showing little, if any, interest in the band. The chips were truly down, and the only advice offered to them was to split up and later reform, which would have meant ditching their name.

Eventually, Sire relented and James were free. Risking everything, they borrowed £12,000 to put out an album by themselves which Sire, at first, tried to prevent. The live “One Man Clapping” magnificently captured the highly charged emotion experienced by both band and audience at many of their gigs. The best tracks were saved for last – the majestic “Burned” possibly took a swipe at Sire (who received royalties for the album), and the frenzied “Stutter”, a band favourite and the final song of many a concert.

Spurred on by the LP’s top spot position in the indie charts, James took the opportunity to introduce the new band members through ensuing live dates. David Baynton-Power took over the vacant drum stool, while the sound was augmented by Mark Hunter (keyboards) and the multi-talented Saul Davies (violin, guitar, etc), who was spotted by Larry strutting his stuff at a local talent night. Friends the Inspiral Carpets, who were breaking in new crooner Tom Hingley, supported. And Tim celebrated the band’s ‘resurrection’ by shaving all his hair off for the London performance!

Shortly afterwards, James signed with indie giants Rough Trade, who had lent a hand with the release of “One Man Clapping”, and what followed was one of 1989’s finest singles. “Sit Down”, with its distinctive Central Station Design sleeve, was a breezy summer pop song, possessing a charm that most acts could only dream of attaining. Accompanied by an Edward Barton-directed video, the single scored highly on the independent scene and John Peel’s end-of-year festive 50. The expanded line-up allowed for a steadier, more solid sound than their earlier, more erratic work. And since it hasn’t been included on album, the deleted “Sit Down” has spiralled in value, especially the 12″ and CD formats which boast a longer version. In addition, early copies of the 7″ and 12″ included a desirable promo postcard, which add some £5 to the value.

As the music press went overboard over the so-called Manchester scene, James still remained the dark horses. Not even their brilliant next 45, “Come Home”, which recalled producer Nick Garside, had them striving for the hype tablets. First aired at John Keenan’s superb Futurama “Indie Pop And Scally Rock” festival, the song was an obvious successor to “Sit Down”. Taking in new member Andy Diagram (erstwhile Diagram Brother, who’d also served with over-looked Mancs the Pale Fountains) on trumpet for a sound which Tim described as “orchestral madness”, the single was a flowing piece with a definite dance feel prompting many a wild stage invasion ever since. The B-side, “Promised Land”, was a harsh stab at the realities of Thatcher’s Britain, while the 12″ and CD added a longer “Come Home”, plus a demo version of “Slow Right Down”. Snap up copies while they’re still easy to find, since all formats are now deleted.

After such a problematic career, James were once more in the ascendency. Doubtless encouraged by the success of North West- based groups storming the charts, James signed to Fontana after much speculation in the press. Any collectors familiar with the House Of Love’s array of limited editions and sales gimmicks might have expected more of the same with the release of James’ first Fontana single, “How Was It For You?”. Indeed, the 7″, 12″ and CD were all necessary to obtain all the tracks – though a later, limited 12″ with free stencil contained the previously CD-only cut, “Undertaker”. Unfortunately, the lead track was disappointedly lukewarm, and those who had bought the Rough Trade 45s must have felt slightly short-changed.

However, any disappointment was shortlived, as within a few weeks, James’ excellent fourth long player, “Gold Mother”, arrived on the scene to rave reviews. The band suddenly became music press darlings, gracing several magazine front covers – an incredible five years on from their first. Regarded as their finest LP, “Gold Mother” had a laid-back feel that suggested the group had finally gelled together technically, as a musical unit. Songs of sexual guilt, childbirth and religious bigotry resonated around teenage bedrooms the nation over, with sales promoted by several chaotic in-store record signing sessions. Sales of the band’s striking merchandise, such an integral part of many Manchester bands’ popularity, shot up. It was impossible to walk down any provincial high street last year without being greeted with the distinctive” JA M ES” and flowers that adorn their T-shirts.

James’ ‘World Cup’ tour to promote the album was a great success, and included superb performances at Glastonbury Festival and the large capacity Blackpool Empress Ballroom, where touts were asking over £20 from those unlucky punters without a ticket! Fans attending the 1990 tour had the chance to pick up a souvenir programme containing an exclusive demo version of a new track “Weather Change”. This is still available from some mail-order outlets. but once stocks are gone, its value is bound to increase.

In the wake of this live and album adulation, Fontana chose to issue an unimaginative remix of “Come Home” by Flood. But at least it gave James their first Top 40 hit, aided by the label’s policy of requiring fans to buy several formats to obtain all the tracks. The best of these was a limited 12″ featuring a live rendition of “Come Home”, “Gold Mother” (Warp Remix) and “Come Home” (Andy Weatherall Boys Own Remix); this last dance-oriented mix benefitted from sampled parts of “Skullduggery” from the first album, This mix was combined with an ‘Extended Flood Mix’ and circulated around the clubs as a two-track white label 12″ housed in a stickered sleeve, valued at around £7.

After a short rest, James returned last November with a new single “Lose Control”, which was previewed live on Channel 4’s “The Word”. With its eerie trumpet and slide guitar, the song is their strongest single so far on Fontana. The back of the 7″ boasts a delightful cover of the Velvet Underground’s “Sunday Morning” , which was recorded for the Imaginary’s “Heaven And Hell: A Tribute To The Velvet Underground” various artists collection.

As for other compilations, look out for the excellent Sarah Champion set “Manchester, North Of England” which featured an early version of “Sky Is Falling” , as well as the usual run-of-the-mill indie ‘greatest hits’ albums and videos, featuring the Rough Trade singles. The video for “Sit Down” surfaced on “Indie Top Video -Take Two” (PMI MVP 991200 3), while “Come Home” qualified for the follow-up, “‘Take Three” (MVP 991215 3). Also watch out for the Futurama 6 video (Jettisoundz JE 200), featuring three live cuts from the Futurama event, plus the earlier Factory Outing video, which also utilises live footage. In the meantime, how about an album from Strange Fruit, combining the band’s sessions for John Peel?

From their humble beginnings on Factory, James’ path to fame and fortune has been a rocky one. But they’ve won through by dogged perseverance and a blinding faith and love for their own, unique music. With a re-recording of the classic “Sit Down” due next month and an album pencilled in for early summer, James look set to reach the dizzy heights that have eluded them for so long.

Formed in 1983, James turbulent career finally came good in 1990. Their ‘Gold Mother’ LP went silver, their dates at Blackpool’s Empress Ballroom, Glastonbury, Maine Road (with Bowie), Crystal Palace (with The Cure) saw them build up a fanatically loyal live following, while James’s t-shirts became an essential fashion item for indie kids up and down the country. The band also had their first top forty hits with ‘How Was It For You?’ and ‘Come Home’.

Originally signed to Factory Records seven years ago, they released two cult hits, ‘What’s The World’ (later covered by The Smiths) and ‘Hymn From A Village’ plus the ‘Village Fire’ EP. Signing to Sire in 1985, the group put out two albums ‘Stutter’ and ‘Strip-Mine’ during an awkward three-year relationship with the label.

Leaving Sire, James pursued an independent path once more, releasing a live album ‘One Man Clapping’ through Rough Trade Records.

Following the departure of original drummer Gavin Whelan, the nucleus of James – vocalist / lyricist Tim Booth, bass player Jim Glennie and guitarist Larry Gott – injected a new harder edge to their sound with the addition of Dave Baynton-Power on drums.

Following two of the biggest indie hits of 89 – ‘Sit Down’ and ‘Come Home’, James had their freshly recorded ‘Gold Mother’ album released by Fontana.

Expanding to a seven-piece with man of many instruments Saul Davies, keyboard player Mark Hunter and Andy Diagram on trumpet, the new look James bounced into the charts with ‘How Was It For You?’ and ‘Come Home’.

The group ended the year with a new single ‘Lose Control’, two triumphant hometown Manchester shows and a short tour of Russia’s major cities.

Coming bang up to date, James release a re-recorded version of their live classic ‘Sit Down’ on 18 March 1991. Out on Fontana, the seven-inch version of ‘Sit Down’ is produced by Gil Norton and mixed by Dave Bascombe. The b-side is backed by a nine minute version of ‘Sit Down’ recorded live at Manchester G-Mex last December.

A full length live video, filmed at the December G-Mex gig is released on 15 April 1991, while an hour long TV version of the gig is to be transmitted by Granada on 27 March 1991.

The group are currently recording their new album which is set for Autumn release – a massive UK tour is being booked to coincide with the release.

James re-release their single ‘Sit Down’ on March 18. It was originally out a couple of years ago on Rough Trade and the b-side features an epic nine-minute long live version of the song recorded at Manchester’s G-Mex in September.

The 12-inch and CD contain the extra track ‘Tonight’.

A full length video filmed at G-Mex will be out on April 15. James are currently recording their new album which will be out in the autumn, when they are planning a large tour. And look out for next week’s revealing interview with the band.

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JAMES release their debut video, “James Come Home”, this week through Polygram.

Recorded live at Manchester G-Mex, it includes their current single,”Sit Down”. The full track listing is : “Come Home”, “What’s The World”, “Lose Control”, “Sunday Morning”, “Ring The Bells”, “Whoops”, “Government Walls”, “Walking The Ghost”, “Nextlover”, “God Only Knows”,”How Was It For You”, “Bring A Gun”, “Sit Down”, ‘What For” and “Stutter”.

It costs £12.99 and runs for 72 minutes.

James, Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine, Julian Cope, Dinosaur Jr, Flowered Up and Nirvana are rumoured to be the latest additions to this year’s Reading Festival in August.

The bill continues to take shape following previous NME reports that Iggy Pop, Sonic Youth, Pop Will Eat Itself, Senseless Things and Ned’s Atomic Dustbin are likely to appear.

Dinosaur Jr and Nirvana reportedly back up Iggy Pop, Sonic Youth and the Poppies on Friday, while James have been mooted to lead Saturday’s bill, supported by Carter and Cope among others.

Flowered Up look like being included on Sunday’s set whose star attraction is said to be “a major solo artist.”

GOTCHA! EACH week at extortionate expense and with total credibility, Bizzerk! encourages star-struck rock heroes to assault one another with the now legendary spikey stick. This week
RevCo head ALIEN JOURGENSEN plays part-time lobotomist with JAMES. He’ll nuke ya!!!

YEEHAW, ya scrawny runt-looking baggied assholes, how’s the drug taking? Whaddaya mean ya don’t do any, ya spineless bastards? Don’t ya know that a man ain’t no man unless he’s done some horse- man? You stringy-haired veggie-f**kers.

Whaddaya mean ya don’t eat cows? Over here we roast ’em whole, kill ’em, cut ’em up and stuff ’em with smiley assholes like you. Geez spare me from that no meal nonsense.

Just look what it’s done to you. Look at your sodding single- what kinda an idea is that? ‘Sit Down’? Sit down!! Stand up and sit on my face instead you weight-laden, fat-ass bastards

That’ll teach ya a lesson – that and a few hundred stampeding steers riding roughshod over your buttocks, you sensitive limey disco fags.

And call that a remix? That’s got about as much chance of getting a diehard narcoholic onto the dancefloor as a wet handshake from George Bush. So piss off back to the Manchester outback you pig-ignorant, tousle­-haired buckets of lamb spunk. You and The Stone Roses.

When James played Blackpool last August, the father of a devout girl fan put the 20 strong entourage of band and road crew up in his hotel for free. After one of the finest and stickiest gigs of the year, bunches of daisy T shirts clung moistly to those fans who wilfully missed their last train to see the encore. Huddled together at the station, chilled by the sea’s breath, they froze their cockles off till dawn.

Earlier that night, an ocean of devotion swelled the Empress ballroom, as each and every punter parked their sweaty bottoms on the floor during a magical version of ‘Sit Down’. Seven years into their career, the ritual is fast becoming an integral part of the colourful James experience.

Today, in a Manchester studio, James end a six-hour photo session to promote the re-release of Sit Down. Originally out in June 1989, it failed to become more than just an indie hit. This was due to a Musicians’ Union ban on the video, which featured bassist Jim Glennie playing a log with two sticks, apparently putting lots of percussionists out of a job. A new video will be used this time ‘round using live footage.

“Jim was the model upon which David Lynch based his Log Lady in ‘Twin Peaks’”, says violin maestro Saul Davies.

“My log has something to say to you; it saw something that night.”

With that, he slopes mysteriously off, following the others home to watch that very same soap, leaving front man Tim Booth and guitarist Larry Gott to explain them. Why a re-release of ‘Sit Down’?

“It would have been nice to continue with new material, but we think that it’s fair to exploit our stuff if it didn’t get a fair hearing first time ‘round,” says Tim. “The mechanism to reach the public wasn’t ready at the time. It’s slower than James and we’re always creating. We have to wait for it to catch up.”

Released last December, the meandering and wonderful ‘Lose Control’ surprisingly suffered a similar fate. Tim proffers an answer:

“It was a really bad time to release it. It sold twice as many copies as ‘Come Home’ but didn’t get as high. If we’d released it in January or February it would have reached the top 30. Instead it got lost in the Christmas rush.

“Singles come to us about twice a year. They descend like the Tooth Fairy. We don’t know how to contrive them – they either come or they don’t. Phonogram wanted to release ‘Sit Down’ at the time, but we wanted to get some new material out first so we chose ‘Lose Control’ which is a lovely song.”

Explaining how James ditties ever find themselves on vinyl, Tim takes us through the ‘distillation process’.

“We start with seeds of songs and choose which ones to develop. In the past, the real test was to throw them on stage. If they get up and walk around you use them. If they roll around drunkenly you put them away. We’re taking less risks in that way now, though, because we’re aware of the standards we set with other songs. Also we’ve got such an intricate light show that if you throw a new-born under unprepared lighting it’s doubly shown up.”

Not that James are in the habit of showing themselves up in a live situation. Most recently they did themselves proud at The Great British Music Weekend. Was it fun?

“Yes,” answers Tim. “We could have played on all three nights. The heavy metal night might have been difficult because my Spandex tights don’t fit anymore and Larry would have had to dig his V-shaped guitar out of the closet.”

“Robert Smith had a good point when he said that the awards ceremony should have been linked with the weekend,” says Larry. “A lot of the people playing weren’t even nominated for awards and then you have this frothy dinner party much later on where they dish them out. The only thing connecting the two events was that Jonathan King was at both.”

How did you find the Wacky One?

“He was really nice,” says Tim. “He came into our dressing room expecting to get a bad time. We just took the piss out of him and he did the same to us. He’s just a professional bullshitter and provocateur. It’s hard to know how to react to people like that because they want you to react badly. He’s like a Julie Burchill or a Tony Wilson. I’m quite impressed with people who stir it and seem not to give a damn.

“I saw it was a real dance night and said we should end with a heavy metal song. Jonathan turned round and said, “If you do I’ll give you a blow job.” Anyway, we finished with ‘Stutter’, which is quite a thrash metal song, and then legged it.”

“We were quite impressed by The Cure. We approached Robert Smith about producing at one point. We’re impressed by longevity and keeping standards up for years. I worry about that a lot because my favourite bands always burn out after about two albums. None of them lasted as long as us. We’re frightened that we’re going to lose this level of intensity and creativity: that one day you’ll wake up and it will have gone, like a cloud, and suddenly you’re as bland as Cliff Richard, Phil Collins or Eric Clapton – hollow men.

“Basically you push yourself all the time. You have to keep trying to renew yourself, seeing if you can go deeper with each song. You have to keep being an agitator with your own material, never accepting that it has reached its limit. It’s a hard process.”

“Every band has at least one album inside them,” says Larry. “After that you’re thinking on your feet. You’ve got to keep looking over your shoulder.”

Mention the band’s clean-living image and obsession for all things green and you’re greeted with a patient sigh.

“There’s a press image of James which is becoming a bit of a bummer,” says Tim. “We’re being presented as Cliff Richard types; ecological, monastic, non drug -taking. Kind of the anti-matter of the Happy Mondays – and it’s not true.”

“I was quoted as saying we don’t take drugs, but what I really said was we don’t take them before a gig. I don’t want to advocate drugs, but I didn’t actually say that and it bugs me. The whole drugs issue is far more complicated than saying whether or not we take them. I don’t come out black and white like that anymore.”

Although not known as a ‘cause’ band who spend nights playing benefits for this or that movement, James did support the Serenaids concert at the Brixton Academy before Christmas, where all proceeds went to The Terence Higgins AIDS charity. It wasn’t a particularly good performance though.

“The sound onstage was comical,” remembers Tim. “We actually started laughing. There was complete panic at first but then you just give up, stop worrying and enjoy yourself. It’s the philosophy of ‘Fuck it.’ When you’re trying to get to an appointment on time and everything conspires against you, you think ‘I’m not meant to be there’. You reach this point of release. You put yourself into fate’s hands; you accept things. I’m trying to cultivate that feeling into a permanent, enlightened state of mind; The State of Fuck It”

Well I hope he didn’t use that language in front of the kiddy. Tim is the proud father of a 22 –month-old son.

“Having a child hits you like a truck – changes your whole attitude. The nicest aspect is that there’s somebody you love and who loves you back in the most direct, physical, unquestionable way. I’ve never experienced that before. I love him totally, without argument, whereas if you love anyone you can always question it in dark hours.”

Gold Mother to the bairn is Martine, James’ manager, designer of those T-shirts and backing vocalist on the new version of ‘Sit Down’.

“She’s got a good eye for design,” says Tim. “She came up with an idea that was as good in sartorial terms as the music. She’s got some good watches out now.”

A 10-minute live version of ‘Sit Down’ is on the new 12 inch. Recorded at Manchester’s G-Mex last year, it features a rousing crowd sing-along with much cheering and tooting of claxons. A video of the night will be out soon.

“It captures a very good James concert. It’s the best thing we’ve ever done. We’re very proud of it. The BBC people who made it rang us up the next day and said it was the best thing they’d ever recorded. When we saw it we thought, ‘Where do we go from here?’ It’s exhausting. At the end of it, I’m on my hands and knees taking oxygen from a St John’s Ambulance woman. I’d never watched myself before and I thought, ‘Jesus, do I go through that every night?’ It really made me want to give up. I certainly want to look for a different way of performing. I don’t want it to be so frantic. If anyone wants to judge James then they should judge us on the video. If they don’t like that, then they don’t like James, and that’s fair enough.”

At last it looks as if James may achieve that long-awaited top 20 single and Top of the Pops appearance. Remixed, revamped and getting prime time Radio One airplay with their rereleased single Sit Down, James look to be getting in with the people that matter in the business. They’ve already got an album in the can and if it’s anything like as good as their last album Gold Mother it will make 1991 truly worthwhile.

For fans of James, listen to Jon Ronson’s show in Saturday and Sunday 10pm until midnight – he normally plays at least five or six tracks (the little tinker).

Mark from Moston was on the phone to me during my KFM show last Sunday. Besides casually suggesting that I play MC Buzz B’s “Never Change” single, he said, “Why are you not out on the streets celebrating?”

I thought, what? Have the government abdicated, has my salary been doubled or the poll tax been abolished? “What do you mean, Mark?”

“You should be celebrating because the James single has gone straight into the Top Ten of the national charts at number seven.”

Later on that evening, a dyed-in-the-wool Guns n Roses heavy metal fan hanging round the studio tells me he’s worried he’s turning into a townie. “Why’s that?” I ask innocently.

“Because I really like that single by James, although I prefer that one they had out a while ago, Come Home. Don’t tell any of my mates” he whispers conspiratorally.

So celebrate in the streets if you like, but in the case of James, a top ten hit was inevitable. No band as good as them could carry on with such a huge cult following without hitting the big time.

With the band’s strongest line-up in years and writing the best songs they’ve ever written, it’s all come at exactly the right time.

Currently, their number seven single Sit Down, is being played to death on Radio One, where it’s tipped as a number one single by a number of DJs including Simon Bates and Steve Wright.

JAMES release a re-recorded version of their live favourite ‘Sit Down’ through Fontana on March 18. The single, produced by Gil Norton, is backed by a nine-minute long live version of the song recorded last year at G-Mex in Manchester. 12-inch and CD versions contain an extra track, a previously unreleased James son called ‘Tonight’.

The band are currently working on a new LP, set for autumn release. There will be a “massive” UK tour to coincide.

Details

First Top Of The Pops performance of Sit Down in March 1991

Details

James performing Sit Down live on the prime time BBC1 program The Terry Wogan Show.

JAMES release a re-recorded version of the live favourite “Sit Down” on Fontana on March 18. Produced by Gil Norton and mixed by Dave Bascombe, it’s backed with a nine-minute version of the same track, recorded live at Manchester G·MEX last December. Due to its length, the B-side plays at 33rpm. 12-inch and CD versions contain an extra track, the previously unreleased James song ”Tonight’.

James also release a full-length live video, filmed at the G·MEX gig, on April 15, while an hour-long TV version of the show is to be transmitted by Granada TV on March 27.

The group are currently recording their new album which is scheduled for autumn release. An extensive UK tour is being set up to coincide.

JAMES re-release their “Gold Mother” album this week with a new track listing.

The current single, “Sit Down”, and the last single “Lose Control”, are now added in place of “HangOn”and”Cre­scendo”.

Anyone wishing to swap their original LP for the reissue can do so in any Our Price store before May 20.

The band are currently in the studio, recording a new album, due to be released in September.

JAMES play a massive 28-date tour later this year to coindde with the release of the  follow-up to their album ‘Gold Mother’, which ­ the band are currently working on.

The dates are at Carlisle Sands Centre on September 30 then Newcastle City Hall October 1, Sheffield City Hall 2, Birmingham Aston Villa Leisure Centre 4, Hanley Victoria Hall 5, Nottingham Royal Centre 8, Leicester De Montfort Hall 9, Hull City Hall 10, Bradford St George’s Hall 12, Wolverhampton Civic Hall 13, Bristol Studio 15, Exeter University 16, St Austell Cornwall Coliseum 17, Oxford Apollo 20, Folkestone Leas Cliff Hall 21, Portsmouth Gulldhall 22, London Brixton Academy 24 & 25, Brighton Event 28, Cambridge Com Exchange 29, Norwich UEA 30, Newport Centre November 1, Preston Guildhall 2, Middlesbrough Town Hall 3, Glasgow Barrowlands 5, Aberdeen Capitol 8, Edinburgh Playhouse 9, Liverpool Royal Court 11.

Tickets are priced £8.50 for all dates except the two London dates which are £9.50- and they’re on sale now,so get on down to those box-offices and usual agents.

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Second Top Of The Pops performance of Sit Down in April 1991

Fans of those Manchester homeboys James are looking forward to April 15.

That’s the date when the full-length, live video of their December G-Mex gig hits the shops.

While their single Sit Down goes up the chart, what are Tim Booth, Jim Glennie, Larry Got, Dave Bayton-Power, Sau Davis, Mark Hunter and Andy Diagram up to?

Well — the word is they are currently recording their new album and bracing themselves for a massive UK tour to co-incide with the autumn release. since they formed in 1983 the band have gone from strength to strength

Details

James perform Sit Down on BBC children’s TV show Going Live and are interviewed

Sarah Greene : Thank you for coming in. We’re really thrilled to get you on Easter Saturday. We’re really thrilled to get you at all, because you’ve been tremendously busy of late. You’ve got a big video coming out on April 15th. Tell us about that.

Tim : It’s a live video. Recorded at Manchester last Christmas and, yeah, it’s wonderful. It’s really good.

SG : We look forward to seeing that. Look forward to that very much. Now you have brought in some prizes.

Tim : Yeah, I’m wearing them

SG : You’re actually wearing them.

Tim : This jumper

SG : Let’s have a look at it. Give us a twirl. Terrific. A beautifully designed acrylic, I mean pure wool jumper.

Tim : Something like that. Cotton.

SG : We’re going watch mad on the programme this morning, aren’t we Simon? Because there’s an exclusive James watch. Can we see that? And the lovely Simon Foster is in fact modelling a t-shirt of yours. We are giving away lots of t-shirts, well James are giving away lots of t-shirts of the current single. This is Come Home. And CDs.

Tim : That’s the last one

SG : Yes, but we’re giving away the current one. He’s such a fan, he’s got your previous one, but we’re not giving away those but we’ve got the current ones. He couldn’t change in time.

Simon : This has got chicken on it

SG : It’s got chicken stuff on it, so we won’t be giving it away

Tim : I think it adds to it actually

SG : Do you think so? We’ll throw that one in as well, but that’s up to Simon Foster. What’s the question?

Tim : The question is an easy one. There are two members in the band James who have the name James. Which instruments do they play?

SG : That’s quite complicated. OK, two members of the band James and which instruments do they play?

Tim : Yes

SG : Okay, thank you very much

Tim : Thanks

SG : Good luck with the video and best of luck with the tour towards the end of the year.

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Rapido, dutifully reporting on some modern musical collection rising up uncertainly from the merry mists of Manchester and this week is going to be no different, lovely viewer. Well, it is but it is only in the sense that the Mancunian group James are actually very talented indeed. In fact, James have been going in various forms and line-ups since the early eighties. Back then, they had a mutual appreciation society going with The Smiths and recorded for Rough Trade. Now with an enlarged line up and singer Tim Booth very much at the helm, they’ve enjoyed major league chart success. Their style has won the hearts of Britain’s young and alive due to the fact it’s based on songs and substance rather than the usual mix of deranged cobal and meaningless lyrics we’ve come to expect from certain other sections of the Manchester community. James. Right here. Right now. On Rapido.

Currently perched high in the charts with Sit Down, James aren’t exactly an overnight success with eight years of making records behind them. We asked singer Tim Booth and bassist Jim Glennie where they suddenly went right.

Jim : I don’t think there’s been any conscious change by us. I think it’s always been a movement. James has been a direction that the songs have been changing, the music’s always been changing and the audience has been growing around that, selling more records. Yeah, there’s been a big jump in the last year. For a lot of people James are quite new in a lot of respects. It’s the first time they’ve come across us. But for us, it’s not been like from nothing to fame.

Over the years, James have expanded to a seven-piece replacing the drummer and adding keyboards and trumpet. Their latest album Gold Mother, released last year, shows off their new range.

Tim : Come Home is probably the most representative song in terms of the power on record that we’ve caught so far. I think Gold Mother is probably the rawest we’ve got, but we still feel we’ve got, that’s the area we can improve in a lot.

A Manchester rather than a Madchester band, James don’t see themselves as belonging to the baggy dance tradition of the Happy Mondays or the Stone Roses.

Tim : I mean we’ve had some really support from Manchester. We had some really difficult years and it was the support in Manchester that kept us going so we’ve got a great relationship with Manchester, with our audience there, and the concerts there are a complete celebration, absolutely wild, and that’s wonderful. That’s it, it’s more the people than the city. I mean, what’s a city? A place of pollution.

Manchester was like left alone for years. All the music industry in Britain is in London so they didn’t take any notice of what was happening in Manchester. So The Stone Roses had been going five or six years, the Mondays six years, and suddenly people turned round and said there were some good bands there. They’d had time to develop themselves by that time.

Despite protest songs like Sit Down and Government Walls, James don’t particularly want to be known as a political band.

Tim : I felt Live Aid and the way Bob Geldof was a spokesperson for that, not taking particular sides, speaking for that, I felt that was the only way it could be done because otherwise you just end up in one camp or the other and it becomes us against them. Divisive. And as soon as you get into that, we’re better than you and our beliefs are better than yours, it’s a joke.

JAMES head out on a massive UK Autumn tour.

This week’s cover stars play Carlisle Sands Centre (September 30), Newcastle City Hall (October 1), Sheffield City Hall (2), Birmingham Aston Villa Leisure Centre (4), Hanley VictoriaHall (5), Nottingham Royal Centre (8), Leicester De Montfort Han (9), Hull City Hall (10), Bradford St Georges Hall (12), Wolverhampton Civic Hall (13), Bristol Studio (15), Exeter University (16), St Austell Colisseum (17), Oxford Apollo (19), Folkestone Leas Cliff Hall (21), Portsmouth Guildhall (22), Brixton Academy (24 and 25), Brighton Event (28), Cambridge Corn Exchange (29), Norwich UEA (30), Newport Centre (November 1), Preston Guildhall (2), Middlesbrough Town Hall (3), Glasgow Barrowlands (5), Aberdeen Capitol (8), Edinburgh Playhouse (9) and Liverpool Royal Court (11).

JAMES, currently enjoying their first major hit with Sit Down, have lined up their biggest tour to date­ taking in 27 cities and including two nights at the Brixton Academy. The band are currently in the studio working on the follow-up to “Gold Mother”. It should be released in September.

The tour kicks off at Newcastle City Hall on October 1 and continues at Sheffield City Hall (2), Birmingham Aston Villa Leisure Centre (4), Hanley Victoria Hall (5), Nottingham Royal Centre (8), Leicester De Montfort Hall (9), Hull City Hall (10), Bradford St George’s Hall (12), Wolverhampton Civic Hall (13), Bristol Studio (15), Exeter University (16), St Austell Cornwall Coliseum (17), Oxford Apollo (20), Folkestone Leas Cliff Hall (21), Portsmouth Guildhall (22), Brixton Academy (24 and 25), Brighton Event (28), Cambridge Com Exchange (29), Norwich UEA (30), Newport Centre (November 1), Preston Guildhall (2), Middlesbrough Town Hall (3), Glasgow Barrowlands (5), Aberdeen Capitol (8), Edinburgh Playhouse (9) and Liverpool Royal Court (11).

Tickets are priced £8.50 in the provinces, £9.50 in London.

On a sunny Friday afternoon in June 1989 is a tiny barely-furnished room in Rough Trade’s London HQ, two members of James were interviewed by a journalist from Sounds.

The main topic of conversation was the band’s imminent new single Sit Down. Tim Booth (vocalist) and Jim Glennie (bassist) were very excited about it – and rightly so, it was a terrific song – although it was noticeable that when “chart action” was mooted, the pair laughed darkly and intimated that they’d believe it when they saw it.

Booth had recently shaved his head; he wore a Moroccan skull-cap and radiated a kind of tranquil benevolence. Glennie was chipper, relaxed. But both shuddered and groaned copiously as every step of James career was discussed.

It was not, in truth, a great time to be a member of James. In fact, drummer Gavan Whelan had realised this and jumped ship shortly before, leaving a core of Booth, Glennie and Larry Gott (guitar).

Their major label deal, with American rock n roll tycoon Seymour Stein’s Sire Records, had collapsed after years of neglect, mismanagement and intransigence. From being 1984’s Band Most Likely To and 1985’s Band Most Certain To, James now found their suitcases unceremoniously dumped on the street.

They still packed out sizeable venues in their native Manchester, mind you, and they were virtually stars on the continent, but the further south they travelled from Manchester, the harder James found it to get arrested. Happy Mondays, The Stone Roses and Inspiral Carpets, all of whom had supported James in the not-too-distant past, were now coming along and doing a mighty thunder plunder, and James were being forgotten. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Their immediate contingency plan was to set up their own label, One Man, and put out an excellent live album One Man Clapping through Rough Trade. Money was so tight, they had to secure a loan from the Royal Bank of Scotland to do it. A measure of how low their star had plummeted was when their bank manager insisted on seeing a Manchester gig – he didn’t believe them when they told him how popular they were.

Two years have passed, Rough Trade’s in dire trouble. Sounds no longer exists. And Sit Down by James, re-recorded and released on Fontana, has made it to number 2 in the national charts. You couldn’t avoid James now if you wanted to. The James success story, about eight years out of schedule, is finally a dramatic reality.

It has been eight years of struggle, inspirations, intensity, tragedy, depression, stagnation, anti-careerism and outrageous risk-taking.

“For the first three years it was going to be a suicide dive,” claimed Tim Booth in 1988. “The band meant so much to us we were going to die for it.”

Die for it? Die for what?

When James first peeked out of Manchester in 1983, the overrriding impression was of a quartet of gentle, almost pathologically soft-spoken, possibly Buddhist, probably vegan nutters dicing with Olde Englande Maypole folk forms, splicing them with Smiths-like lyrical introspection and ending up with something thrillingly enigmatically unique.

Everyone saw in Tim Booth a frontman of wild purpose and hypnotic self-confidence… but pigeon holes were as cruel then as they are now and Green issues were not hip.

“We are not vegans,” fumed Booth. “There has never been a Buddhist or a vegan in the band.”

But they did come over ascetic and pretty stern. Frivolity was not a key factor in James interviews. What had occurred – and what is never discussed these days in James articles – was a total lifestyle volte face in the band’s camp. When they started out, they had been a confirmed drugs band.

“From Nick Cave to Van Gogh,” Tim Booth later noted, “most brilliant artists use some kind of artifical stimulant and, in creating their work, end up wrecking their lives. The intensity with which I love my work means that if I couldn’t create anything without fucking myself up, I don’t know that I wouldn’t go ahead and do it.”

When the idea of James was originally discussed, around 1982, Tim Booth was not the singer. He was a dancer, a Bez. The vocalist was a guy called Danny Ram, and they had a guitarist called Paul, who was the best friend of bassist Jim Glennie. This Paul, Glennie later revealed in a 1988 interview, got freaked out on drugs, and, over the course of several James gigs, became a catatonic liability. When he eventually wound up in prison, the surviving members of James, it is widely believed, decided en bloc radically to change their ways of life.

“Seeing a friend like that shot down like a plane,” recalled Booth much later, “we realised the reality of burning out. We knew so easily it could have been one of us. It was at that point that we decided we were going to make music so good it would make us high that we wouldn’t need drugs.”

They were tagged as “Buddhist vegans”, a reputation that gathered pace as they banned alcohol from their gigs.

“Because we’d been so deeply involved in drugs and drink,” explained Booth, “the reaction had to be equally as extreme. Just like any revolution….”

The three songs on James first single on Factory in November 1984, “Jimone” (pronounced Jim One), showed a band using daringly soft folk structures, stark lyrical images and vocal dramatics to create something seductively new. A 1991 listen reaffirms its appeal – it must have sounded very odd in the marketplace. Musically, it was kind of eclectic Smiths b-side via Brecht/Weill; lyrically it was precocious enough to intrigue a generation of bedsit dwellers.

But as the student franchise got tied up by The Smiths, James had to mop up the more eccentric branches of the wan intelligentsia with single number two, James II (usually known as Hymn From A Village). It was spring 1985 and Morrissey had declared James his favourite band.

They toured with The Smiths, lapped up the plaudits, left Factory for famous US magnates Sire and drafted in Lenny Kaye, doyen of Tim Booth’s beloved Patti Smith Group and all-round cool guy, as producer of the debut album.

James nightmare was about to begin.

Stutter was released in July 1986 to uniformly favourable reviews. People were still finding out about James, still getting to grips with the oblique medieval sing-song melodies, the strange stories and the arrangements that often seemed to come from a perverse encyclopedia of 15th century English folk-jazz.

But Stutter didn’t exactly do the truckload business Sire required, and the purse strings were promptly tightened. James would later claim, in a grim precursor of The Stone Roses vs Silvertone case, that they never earned more than £30 a week on Sire. In addition, they were advised by the label not to put out any new material for the time being. When the band wanted to tour, they were told they couldn’t because they had nothing to promote.

One swift re-reading of Catch 22 later, their manager resigned. James began work on their second album, one of the most convuluted sagas in recent rock history. They finished making it in March 1987 and a release date was set for May. Sire were unhappy, so it was put back. Then it was put back again. Then again.

“Each time it was put back,” recalled Tim Booth in 1988, “we kept thinking, It’s got to happen this time. Once it even got as close as two weeks to the day before the thing was pulled.”

The album eventually blew out eight different release dates as producer Hugh Jones embarked on a panicky, coffee-drenched, somnambulant full scale remix. Booth later revealed that choosing the running order of songs alone took four days.

By now the band were submitting themselves for drug tests at a tenner a day at a Manchester hospital just to pay for rehearsal time.

The second James album, Strip-Mine, emerged in September 1988, 16 months overdue. It had been one hell of a gestation period. Reviews were muted, confused, largely unimpressed. Gavan Whelan, the drummer, walked out.

“We nearly called it a day, there and then,” Larry Gott told Select in July 1990. “We knew that whatever the next person said would decide whether it went one way or another.”

The One Man Clapping album kept the wolf temporarily from the door – check the bitterness of Burned, the anti-Sire song, and a highly successful UK tour saw James make three adroit line-up changes. Dave Baynton-Power came in on drums, Mark Hunter appeared on keyboards and a stunning utility player called Saul Davies took on the violin, as well as additional guitar and even drums. Since then Andy Diagram, an erstwhile Diagram Brother and Pale Fountain, has been added on trumpet, to fill out the sound to unprecedented levels. James sound, Tim Booth admits, is now “orchestral madness”.

The lunacy has spread to the charts. What was once a rueful daydream is now hard fact. The 1990 James album Gold Mother breezed into the album charts on release, and, when reissued last month with two slight alterations in tracklisting, entered the charts at an astonishing number two.

Throughout 1990 the patented James t-shirts have done a ridiculously good trade, bringing in £2,000 plus a week. And finally, finally, the media’s reluctance to find a place in all the Manchester madness for James has subsided, and now it’s as if they had an invite to the party all along.

Sit Down, meanwhile, as anthemic as any single this year, has already booked its place on the next “That’s What I Call Music” collection. James have been utterly vindicated. The cliche has taken a well-merited kicking – James are no longer the best-kept secret in Manchester.

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• Venue: Meter Sessies, Hilversum, Netherlands
• Date: 13th May 1991

Songs

• Lose Control
• Ring The Bells / Ring Those Bells
• Sit Down

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A one-off set for Channel 4’s late night Friday Night At The Dome programme, showcasing three as then unreleased tracks from the Seven album. It was during the recording of this programme that Tim first expressed a wish to work with Angelo Badalamenti.

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Two track live session on Granada TV

Whisper it if you dare – top Manchester band James have arranged a secret gig at the Hacienda tonight. Now say it loud from the rooftops – it’s been cancelled.

The city’s pop grapevine has been buzzing with the news that the band, whose last single was a top five smash hit, were to play a hush-hush warm-up gig before they headline the massive Reading Festival this weekend in front of 35,000 fans.

Hacienda DJ Dave Haslam, an old pal of the band’s singer Tim Booth, arranged the special one-off concert for around 1,500 in-the-know fans at the top nightclub, even though the band played to 20,000 fans at G-MEX earlier this year.

But Tim has returned from a gig in Austria last week with a sore throat – and Dave is now busy spreading the word that the gig that no-one supposedly knew about is off.

“It was hard enough publicising it through word-of-mouth,” says a disappointed Dave. “But it’s a bit difficult telling people it isn’t on when it wasn’t officially happening anyway. “Tim doesn’t want to give a half-baked show and wants to save his voice for Reading. He decided he couldn’t risk it.”

It’s the Great British Pop Awards 1991 and bizarre showbiz entrepreneur Jonathan King is prancing around telling the world that James are going to be huge this year. Not for the first time, he’s right. James are up there with the big boys … and about time too.

Is that man King psychic? Only weeks later there’s Sit Down hanging around at Number 2 in the BBC charts for what seems like forever, unable to climb over Chesney’s flowing locks. For most of the millions watching TOTP, James were another new madcap Madchester outfit, but we know better.

James have been marked out from the crowd since they began, way back in 1983. And although James Mk 2 is radically different from the earlier model – less fearful of writing simple songs, for one thing – their individuality shines through.

James arrived too late for the big Factory boom of the early 1980s, although their first singles were released on the Manchester label, and too early for the second spearheaded by Happy Mondays.

A brace of Factory outings included What’s The World, later covered by The Smiths, who then invited the band out on tour. Early shows were dominated by Tim Booth’s scary intensity, the gallows humour of the songs and a definite touch of weird greatness.

James signed with Sire, home of Talking Heads and Richard Hell, in what is now widely regarded as one of the disastrous career moves of the 80s. They made a superb first album in Stutter, produced by Patti Smith cohort Lenny Kaye: Really Hard remains a gem of a song, Johnny Yen an oddball classic, but it was determinedly anti-commerical. The group and the company were reported to be at loggerheads and the world passed James by.

The next album Strip Mine was delayed and delayed again. It’s a seriously strange record with a few hints of the more direct style they were later to adopt. And What For should have been a hit, guv.

Live shows were sporadic, and one gig at the ICA, supporting the then hot tips The Woodentops, saw James floundering, no direction home, as they say.

Finally out of the Sire mire, James took stock. They’d pushed the obscure intricacy they delighted in to its extreme and seemed destined to become nothing more than a minor cult.

The 1989 live album One Man Clapping, recorded over three nights at Bath Moles, provided a farewell both to drummer Gavan Whelan and to James Mark 1. Fresh faces and a fresh style were the order of the day.

In came the forceful drumming of Dave Baynton-Power, Andy Diagram, of northern indie strange guys The Diagram Brothers, multi-instrumentalist Saul Davies and keyboard player Mark Hunter. And suddenly James were hungry again.

Sit Down and Come Home came out on white labels so that dance DJs wouldn’t be put off by old connotations, and proved huge indie successes. A big, punchy, wide-open sound was the order of the day, and Tim sounded more confident than ever. James t-shirts became the fashion item of the year, the future was in no doubt.

A new album Gold Mother on a new label, Fontana, saw them link up with the Inspiral Carpets on the title track – at least as strange as anything they’ve done before, but played with a new maturity. And the long-awaited chart debut came with How Was It For You?

But it was on stage that James really proved themselves. Wild, all systems go, older fans moving to the beat beside a huge horde of new ones – and it became a ritual to sit down to Sit Down.

The intensity of the earlier shows was still there, but it was now channeled in to an explosive outburst. Now it was OK to love James – not just like them, but to go totally overboard, heart and soul. And yet it’s only four years since one music paper, replying to a “what happened to James?” letter, sniggered back that they couldn’t find anyone in the office who’d admit to liking them. Hah! Times do change, don’t they?

Onwards and upwards, today Reading, next month a new album, then a UK tour sold out months in advance. That Jonathan King, he can’t half pick them (and go tell that to Carter too).

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Dele Fadele, NME

Technical difficulties of the generator-failure variety conspire against James on the first day, but normal transmission is resumed when they stand in for Status Quo with borrowed equipment the next. The irony is somewhat lost, as the transformation of these perfectly sane Mancunians from rustic modern folkies to stadium-hugging iconoclasts is now complete. At least Tim Booth knows how to use his new-found avant-Messiah position. By exaggerating his patented scarecrow dance, questioning and railing against God, and gently goading the audience with snappy asides, he somehow avoids the breast-beating and ego-fulfilment that comes with being a small figure on a large stage.

“Hymn From A Village” benefits from the expanded line-up treatment, just as valid a critique of the pop process as it was in those far-off Factory days. “Lose Control” is stripped of its dance undercarriage and rendered acoustically to spine-tingling effect, while “Walking The Ghost” is a work of stark, plaintive brilliance. The new songs aired show just how much James are consolidating their stand with sturdy rhythms, just the right amount of light and shade and sometimes caustic, often probing lyrics. The one dealing with frustration is an instant classic, even more salient than when Tim sings “Do you really need that Ecstasy to disarm defences?” during “How Was It For You?” a frantic encore.

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Interview with Tim and Jim at Reading Festival in 1991.

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A Stutter was a James fanzine produced by Paul Hardman.

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James career should have ground to a resounding halt in 1988. They had left the Sire label after two singly unsuccessful albums and accumulated debts of £50,000. Instead they ploughed on, building a fanatical following in their native Manchester. The line-up expanded as James’ twisted, almost folky approach was married to a twisted almost dancey beat. “A&R people used to seeing crowds of 30 would see 2000 in our audiences and wonder why we weren’t signed,” remembers singer Tim Booth, once a Bez-type dancer. “They thought there was something wrong with us.”

After a live album, One Man Clapping, Fontana took the plunge. Three singles and the Gold Mother album charted in 1990, James audience extended beyond Greater Manchester and finally they looked poised for the big breakthrough in 1991. It came with Sit Down, a song from 1989, re-recorded and re-released. “The mechanism to reach the public wasn’t ready at the time,” says Booth. “It’s slower than James. We have to wait for it to catch up.”

Sit Down charged towards the top 5 as if making up for 9 lost years and Fontana had the seemingly quirky idea of re-pressing Gold Mother (including Sit Down) and giving purchasers the opportunity to replace it for free. It entered the chart at Number 2 to all-round hosannas, not least because of the precedent-setting marketing ploy.

James are headlining Saturday night at the Reading Festival, their own crowds are larger and possibly more fanatical than before (hence the live version of Sit Down where the song stops and the crowd take over for nigh on 15 minutes), and Tim Booth is confident: “We developed a theory that the longer it took, the bigger we’d be. It took us a long time getting here and now we won’t bloody leave.”

The 28-page tour programme was from the autumn of 1991 in the run up to the release of Seven. As usual it featured band bios, interviews and pictures. Click on an image to browse the tour programme.