Have we got Muse for you

'We've got them to the same building, the same room is proving a little more difficult. Heavenly HQ in the heart of Soho, and NME's plans for a meeting betvveen this year's most adventurous musical minds are faltering.

To our left, there's Spiritualized's Jason Pierce. He's standing in the middle of the room, sweat streaming from every pore of his face, wrestling with a window that he finally opens, letting injagged blasts of freezing air. "A touch of flu," confides his PR.

Next door, there's Primal Scream's Bobby Gillespie. He's joking with the wild-eyed Andrew Innes, and taking yet more orders for the industrial-strength coffee that's been fuelling the whole office for the past couple of hours. As phones ring and various girlfriends seek to leave messages, he slips out the door.

For the next 15 minutes, Jason remains slumped motionless on the other side of the glass pane that separates the two rooms. Eventually, Bobby returns, distributes the drinks and strolls through to join Jason, who immediately lifts himself up and heads oft in the direction of the toilet.

Twenty-five minutes later, and there's still no sign of him. Bobby starts to wonder aloud if this interview's ever going to happen. Anxious faces glance at their watches, and then, ten minutes later, Jason re-emerges, negotiates his way carefully to the couch and plummets into place next to Bobby. Situation saved.

Two hours after we first arrived, then, welcome to Bobby Gillespie and Jason Pierce; friends, kindred spirits and longterm admirers; two men fascinated by the possibilities as well as the history of rock'n'roll; and the two people responsible for this year's most explosively experimental music.

Both come from similar backgrounds Fuelled by a love of '60s garage and psychedelia, both have been making revolutionary music since the mid- '80s: one in Rugby, initially with a group called Spacemen 3, the other in Glasgow, first with The Jesus & Mary Chain and later with Primal Scream. From there, both have spiralled out in search of new sounds - a journey that has taken in elements of acid house, freeform jazz, gospel, dub and, of course, rock'n'roll. This year has arguably seen both of them produce their finest work to date. What better time, then, to get them together to find out where this astonishing music comes from? Or at least, that was the idea.

Before we've had a chance to say anything, though...

Jason: "Gossip. Everyone wants to talk about drugs and scandal and shit like that. Can I just say something before we start? I think it's ill the way the press works. At any one time in England, and it only seems to be in England, there are always six or seven best bands in the world."

Bobby, having removed the ringing phone to his right from its hook, nods his assent.

"Aye. I don't like that gradient. It's wrong, total capitalism. This one's good, this one's bad - and what was good six months ago isn't any more. It's like a production line, tins of beans. It just keeps the f-mg music industry ticking over."

Jason: "Have you noticed a lot of press nowadays seems to be concerned with this record's been broken, or that one has? It's all statistics. This record is the seventh-fastest selling album of all time, or this gig sold out in 30 seconds or whatever. I just think it's f-ng weird."

Bobby: "Right, The Beatles, the Stones and Little Richard were making records back in the '60s or '5Os, and there weren't any f-ng computers to log how much they sold."

Jason: "I always get cynical as to whether bands genuinely capture the minds of the youth or whether it's down to capital investment. I mean, Oasis? They're all to do with statistics as well, aren't they?"

NME: Has it always been like that?

Bobby: "Yeah, I think so."

NME: In that case, if you didn't trust the press, how did you gain access to the music you love and grew up with?

Jason: "When I was a teenager, I had friends who were listening to stuff like The Cramps and The Gun Club. I mean that first Gun Club album, I can't remember what it's called ('Fire OfLove'- Rockabilly Ed) is absolutely amazing. It's an album that I can never remember reading a review of, an absolutely phenomenal record that was missed~ You don't get references to it in modern music."

Bobby: "Aye, that's right."

Jason: "Those bands came to England and informed people where their music was coming from. The Cramps didn't make out that they were totally unique. They were telling their audience about '50s rockabilly, about Hazel Atkins and Ronnie Hawkins and '60s psychedelia. You know, they were talking about these weird people making odd records - and a lot of my friends were into it. A lot of early Spacemen stuff was like The Cramps meets The Stooges or something, that's before we started recording.

"I had three sets of people that I got into music through, and they were all kids: one liked The Cramps and Gun Club, another bought everything from the '60s indiscriminately and 80 per cent of it was dreadful, generic Dave Clark Five rubbish, stuff I didn't like, and the third guy was the first drummer with Spacemen 3, who introduced me to John Lee Hooker, jazz, stuff like that."

Bobby: "The Cramps got us into a lot of things too, like The Chocolate Watch Band, The Electric Prunes, Charlie Feathers."

Jason, distracted: "Yeah, I'd never have known about them if it wasn't for The Cramps."

Unfortunately, at this point, we suffer a slight interruption. In the adjoining office, someone's just put a record on - a rare Dion album produced by Phil Spector.

Jason immediately wanders off to check tout at close quarters, Bobby meanwhile starts to play air guitar.

"Listen to that guitar," he whispers enthusiastically. "Just listen to it. It's dead sad." Jason reappears at the door.

"What a fantastic record," he sighs. "Where were we?"

NME: With The Cramps.

Jason: "Yeah, that's right."

Bobby takes up the story: "We had a guy who used to play tambourine with us, and we all loved The Cramps, but him especially. He used to follow them on tour, he kept all the interviews they did and he started buying a lot of psychedelic stuff. They always made people aware of their references. They let you find the source. That's how we got into a lot of stuff.

"We met Lux (Interior) and (Poison) Ivy from The Cramps five years ago in LA with Alan McGee. Throb was talking to Lux and saying how influential they were, and he was really surprised, but a load of bands did copy them,

"And they certainly had an influence on our music. But then like a lot of punk groups - the Pistols, The Jam and The Clash that we like, you won't hear it in the music, but you might hear it in our attitude. Do you know what I mean? We love The Clash, but we don't want to sound like them."

Jason: "All the best music is evolutionary, it adapts to its environment. I hate this dumb thing where people say all the notes have been used or it's all been done before. Of course it hasn't. Music evolves. There are so many people who are just taking the idea or recipe and making a diluted version of it. I'd rather listen to Nirvana than any number of bands who try to copy them."

NME: Are neither of you excited by music in 1997?

Jason: "Yes, I am. It's there if you look. The press is always looking for this sensational leap, but it doesn't happen like that. Music isn't like that, it's evolutionary...

Bobby, smiling: "I meant to say earlier, the Scream aren't evolutionary, we're revolutionary."

Jason: "People write about Primal Scream or our album like, 'Where did it come from?' Well, there are sources."

Bobby: "Yeah, but even though our band has been going for a long time, I love people who come along and do something that's so amazing and so exciting and then just... I don't know, explode. You know, like Nirvana. What he (Kurt Cobain) did I think is pretty unbeatable, the point to which he took it, it was just incredible. That's 'In Utero', I'm talking about."

Jason: "Last night I was listening to PJ Harvey, that album of demos. That's blistering as well, and it's just a bunch of f-mg demos so, er... I don't really know what we're doing... Um, what's the thread of what we're talking about?"

Momentarily unsure of why we're here or what we're doing, Jason sits back on the couch and looks puzzled.

"Have you got a copy of this week's NME?" he asks slowly.

NME: There's one in the other room.

He vanishes. Seconds later he's back, swaying slightly but clutching a copy. Time for another question.

NME: Do either of you consider what you do as experimental?

Bobby: "Sometimes we are experimental. I mean that's how Primal Scream started out, with me smashing bits of metal."

Jason: "People are always saying Spiritualized are like pop meets avant-garde, but that's just a small bag to put us in. Our records are radical by contrast, because nobody else out there is like us. No-one else is trying to find different ways of making you feel through music. No-one else is trying, full stop.

"Having said that, it's not like either of us are highbrow, like this is really experimental, man. I lust love music, I love what it does to you. My musical world has got nothing to do with selling records, it's got nothing to do with any of that stuff."

NME: Do you think that makes what you're doing more important?

Jason: "I think we are important by contrast. It's like slimming by contrast, which is something Kate (Radley) used to talk about. You don't take any weight off, you just surround yourself with fatter people. I think the bands that stand out this year are like that. It's easy to be weird, but that's not what we're about. It's like what Bobby said recently: 'It's easy to make a psychotic record, it's not so easy to make people feel'."

NME: Are you pleased about the critical reaction your album received?

Jason: "I don't care about the reaction we got this year, because I thought 'Pure Phase' was an amazing-sounding record, but it got terrible reviews. If I started to get affected by it... I don't know how I should feel about it. It's like your 'Give Out. album, Bobby, I loved that ballad thing, but look at the reaction it got."

Bobby: "Aye, but the gigs were great, and the record wasn't. Some nights it felt just right, dead bluesy and melancholy, but, y'know, tough."

Jason: "Did the press affect you?"

Bobby: "No, because we just wanted to be the hardest, heaviest band. We didn't give a f- what anyone was saying. About a year-and-a-half later, we looked back and thought we could have done things better, but at the time it was different. The circumstances were difficult, the band was falling apart, y'know. We should have got Jim Dickinson (Big Star producer) to sort it out. He'd have just let it happen."

NME: Neither of you seem to listen to a lot of contemporary music. Is that a conscious decision?

Jason, indignant: "I like a lot of contemporary stuff."

NME: For example?

Jason: "I like what Aphrodite does, and I like Spring Heel Jack. It's almost a shame to call them drum'n'bass. They incorporate so much more than that. Drum'n'bass has gone the way of a lot of music, it's grown tired very fast. With Spring Heel Jack, it's soul music."

Bobby: "Asian Dub Foundation are a band with something to f-ng say. Most rock music this year has been so bland, everything's pre-punk, it's dead. Career-orientated."

Jason: "I like Gorky's Zygotic Mynci."

Bobby: "Is that right? Are they good? Duffy went to see them last year and said they were brilliant."

Jason: "I think they sound like Van Dyke Parks writing with Brian Wilson."

Bobby, incredulous: "Really? Are they that good? That's incredible."

Jason: "They don't sing in fake American accents or anything. It's effortless. I don't even know if they know about Van Dyke Parks."

Bobby: "Och, there's no rock'n'roll bands any more, they're all rock bands."

NME: Just you two. Bobby, sighing: "Aye, maybe..."

Jason: "Yeah, that's right. Ha ha."

Both of them start to grin. The cue for us-and 1997-to bid them farewell. They've spotted Kate Radley, who's arrived to take them both to dinner. Jason just has time to confide that he's already written a handful of songs for the follow-up to 'Ladies And Gentlemen...', while Bobby simply assures us that 1998 will see his band rocketing even further into uncharted territory.

As they tiptoe their way down the darkened stairs and tumble out on to the street, the last thing we see of these two consistently astonishing men is their heads disappearing into a distant crowd. Both in a world of their own, both still gripped by The Cramps.

Originally appeared in NME, 20/27 December 1997 .
Copyright © IPC Magazine Ltd.

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