A
Dave Geraghty of Bell X1 |
Paddy Casey |
D
The Dandy Warhols |
E
Mick Flannery |
Julian Gough |
Rick, Bruce and Paul Weller |
J
Mumford and Sons |
Dave Geraghty of Bell X1 |
Paddy Casey |
The Dandy Warhols |
Mick Flannery |
Julian Gough |
Rick, Bruce and Paul Weller |
Mumford and Sons |
It shouldn’t work but it does. Andrew Hamilton chats to Gerry Love about the multiple-personality-disorder which is Teenage Fanclub.
Gerry Love has seen his share over the last 20 years. From those big- label days, when even Kurt Cobain thought they were the best band in the world, to their more recent endeavours, when the Scottish three-piece-plus-a-drummer began to live less in each other’s pockets and more in each other’s work schedules. That’s why, when he says that the band is still close - and it’s the music and not their personalities that keep them together - you’re inclined to believe him. “If we are touring, if we are in each other’s close proximity for a while then we do share music and talk about what we are into now and things like that. And more often than not it turns out that we are still into the same things. But we don’t really communicate, in some ways, in terms of actual words. If someone just puts down some music, then the rest of us know they are doing okay. We don’t really sit about talking - we talk about football and world events - we don’t really ask each other how we are getting on. But somehow we each know how the rest are getting on [without talking]. It’s sort of a weird, intuitive sort of relationship. Although Norman is living in Canada now, it doesn’t really feel that he is that far away. I live near Raymond and Francis but I probably see them as much as I see Norman. But that’s fine, we all have our own lives now. When we meet up in a place to do what we do, it still feel very natural. I think even the fact that we can still make music and people still like it tells its own story, regardless of whether we go for a pint with each other or something. The fact that we can have a harmonious relationship together in a musical sense is quite a deep feeling," he said.With a growing reputation and a Choice Music Prize-winning album under his belt, Adrian Crowley is an artist on the rise. Andrew Hamilton chats to the late-bloomer of Irish music.
By the age of 25 most people are packing in their teenage dream. Too old to play for Man United, too lacking in star quality to be an actor, too much of a grown-up to be a rock star. Yet it is at just this age that the world first began to hear the name of Galway musician Adrian Crowley. While Crowley is certainly a late developer from an “industry” point of view, his music and song-writing is something aged and matured over many years. It was a long journey, but one that, according to Crowley, that had to be made. “I think the music brought me there itself. I didn’t start out with too many great expectations of making a career out of it. The way I approached it was that when most people would have been out there looking for gigs I started working on my first album. I took an unusual approach to the whole thing. So, the momentum started growing slowly over a few years so when I finally decided to go full-time it just happened by itself. I wasn’t really a decision that I would try and make a go of it but there was one year when it all just started coming for me and I went with it. I was doing music to satisfy something that I was striving for - I had no idea what people would make of it and I wasn’t trying to sell it to anyone. I think that had an influence on the music that came out on the other end. People are always telling me how unusual my music sounded and different from what they might have heard before.”Andrew Hamilton chats to Jeremy Hickey aka Rarely Seen Above Ground (RSAG) about success from the sidelines and his latest album, Be It Right Or Wrong.
Jeremy Hickey never set out to be a one-off. After learning his trade behind the kit, the Kilkenny drummer plied his skill in small venues around the southern coast of Ireland, learning and experimenting as he went. When a borrowed four-track recording presented him with a window into life as a solo recording artist, a giant light-bulb went off in his brain. He hadn’t got there yet, but with this new discovery - and the new moniker of Rarely Seen Above Ground (RSAG) - he finally knew what road he had to take. When his second album Organic Sampler was short-listed for the Choice Music Prize in 2008, he knew he had almost made it. But despite his success and critical acclaim, there was still a large slice of doubt in his mind. It took 10 long years to get there, but there was still a very real chance that people just wouldn’t get it. “I probably still get a lot of that, I’d say. Definitely. When I started out, everyone thought that it would work. Some people backed away from me going ‘I just don’t know about this’. There was a long, long time when people were very stand- offish. But when it really started to get going and we got happier with the visual side of RSAG, then it changed. The music was always there but the idea of presenting it live was the tricky one. I think after a while people just got used to it - you know, the idea that what I was doing was a little bit different,” he says.Five years after the release of New Dawn Breaking, The Walls are back with a new strut to their step. Andrew Hamilton chats to Steve Wall about protest songs, fresh plans to conquer America and the problem of being your own worst enemy.
Somewhere over the Indian Ocean, a book caught hold of Joe Wall. When he had finished, he passed it to his brother Steve and before they touched down in Australia, both had walked The Road with Cormac McCarthy. That book, like every great piece of art, has a way of lingering. Three years later and the shards of The Road began to resurface. Mingled with thought of recession, and the generations of Irish who carried their fire to every corner of the world, an idea sparked at 30,000 feet became the hopeful, up-temp song of the summer. “We went to Australia three years ago to do some support for Crowded House and it was on that long flight that we all read The Road. Joe read it first and then passed it to me and I remember not moving out of my seat until I closed the last page. Joe took that line from the book - the idea of carrying the fire. He must have made a mental note of it and it came over into the song. One thing which is interesting about it is that he has taken the phrase and brought it into the Irish context. The lyrics are about the Irish diaspora post-famine. I don’t know of many other Irish pop songs that namecheck Oliver Cromwell or the people in the coffin ships. So it’s a bit like Cormac McCarthy’s The Road meets Joseph O’Connor’s Star of the Sea but in a pop song - that’s the best way I can describe it," said Steve.There was a time when Ocean Colour Scene was the hottest band in the world. Andrew Hamilton talks to frontman Simon Fowler about the new folk revival, being happy on the fringes of Britpop and how being unfashionable has become the key to their success.
Down the years, the sleepy village of Knebworth has become accustomed to a certain amount of action. Sat lazily in the northern end of Hertfordshire, just to the south of Stevenage, Knebworth is a village unremarkable in just about every way. Except, that is, that every so often it plays host to some of the most important concerts ever. It started in ‘79 when Zeppelin came to town; Queen soon followed and then Deep Purple chose it as the venue for their first gig in more than 15 years. But there was no bigger night than August 11, 1996. On that day, Oasis were joined by Ocean Colour Scene for the second in a set of two concerts that would re-write history. Close on 400,000 people saw Ocean Colour Scene perform live over those two balmy evenings, but more - 2.6 million more to be exact - requested tickets for what has since been recognised as the largest free concert ever to take place. But that was just the start for Ocean Colour Scene. Eight months later, their third album Marchin’ Already would push their mentors Oasis off the top of the album chart, making them, for a while at least, the top dogs of Brit pop. Yet despite the massive help that it gave his band, Britpop was never something that sat easily with Simon Fowler. “I think Oasis changed the perception of what popular music really was at that time. We had been doing the same kind of thing for years and then suddenly they come along and say that, actually, they do like The Beatles and they don’t have to make excuses for it. So we would have been in their camp and in Paul Weller’s camp but really I would have seen Britpop as more about Blur and Pulp and the NME, and we weren’t really linked with that. We certainly weren’t welcome in the NME club,” he says.After releasing one of the Irish albums of the decade, no one expected Cathy Davey to be dropped by her record label. Ahead of the release of her third and most implicitly personal album ever, she spoke to Andrew Hamilton about getting over her musical embarrassment and being forced to really sing for her supper.
The gloves have finally come off. After eight years of writing very personal yet heavy veiled music, Cathy Davey has found a way to be herself. While the confidence garnered from the success of Tales of Silversleeve was certainly a help in this new awakening, more important was her new method, or even the concept, behind the making of this album. Make no mistake, Cathy Davey’s third album, The Nameless - due for release this week - is a concept album. While concept albums have often been used as a means for the artist to take an alternative look at the world, the journey of this record is one of self-discovery, of finding a way of describing what in the past has remained, well, nameless. “I think I’ve always been personal [as a songwriter] but I probably didn’t have as much experience. Interesting things happen as you get older and it would be a shame not to be as candid as you can be. With this record, I was able to get past my own censorship because of the theme of ‘The Nameless’ which I had running through it. The Nameless is the woman in these songs and she is always an exaggerated version of me. So whatever I was going through, I was able to multiply it by 10 in order to go along with her story,” she says.