| September 14th, 2006 by Eric K (Permalink) Add Comments |
The Screaming Ineloquents Interview Eric K
Music interviews are boring. We all know this. Boring to do and, invariably, boring to read. The interviewer, finally given the once-in-career chance to meet his music idols and ask those pertinent questions that will entertain but also reveal insights and revelations other journalists have failed to elicit. He spends a bleary-eyed all-nighter preparing questions guaranteed to get into the very core of the musicians’ mind in eager anticipation of coming face-to-face with such genii. What he is confronted with on the big day is one monumental, big angry wall of contempt: a band (minus whoever is the most newsworthy member) of weary, tour-ravaged, sleep-deprived grumps on their 5th journalist of the day (although in the case you are about to read I’m pretty sure I can say with some confidence that am the only person interviewing these guys today - save perhaps their bank manager). This is not a environment conducive to probing, challenging interrogations.
At best we get pulp philosophy (’How has success affected you?’; ‘Where do you get your inspiration?’) and the odd memorable soundbytes. At worst we get a stunted succession of thoughtless, monosyllabic throw-away answers to clichéd questions. So instead of force you all to trawl through another tiresome diatribe about some group’s ‘new experimental direction’ or how they’re ‘just making the music they enjoy’ and if ‘anyone else likes it that’s a bonus’ I decided in my infinite wisdom to get Scots-Japanese punkeneers the Screaming Ineloquents to interview me instead. I know this will be of infinitely more interest to readers with if only because of my advantage in name recognition (the K moniker having graced these pages about a dozen times to the Ineloquent’s twice).
Disclaimer: The interview is conducted mostly with new drummer, Gus, but Duck and the rest of the band show up later so I’ve given my interlocutor the catch-all title ‘SI’ for convenience. It has been heavily edited to make me look smart. Members of the Ineloquents are exactly as smart as they appear. This will probably be a disaster.
[Past everyone’s bed-time at the local. Several units down the line]
K: Ok, Gus. Let’s do this interview thing.
SI: Let’s. So you’ve been interviewing bands for, oh, all of 2 years. Do you think this vast experience and reputation entitles you to pull a dumb stunt like this and expect people to actually read it?
K: I’m certain the readership are anxious to gain insight into the mind of a hard-hitting journalist such as myself and discover his thoughts on the profession and life in general.
SI: Well, I don’t think we really need to get into that. We’ll call that ‘Interview Plan B’. First question: We’ve known each other for a while now. But what’s your take on Downs Syndrome foeti? Abort or save?
K: You have quite a direct interview style.
SI: I want to get to the heart of what makes Eric K tick.
K: I’m glad you’re taking this seriously.
SI: Oh, I am.
K: Do you not have any questions about my work?
SI: Err… not really. [flicks through notepad of questions] Oh, hang on here’s one. Who would you say are your main influences? I imagine Wordy from Look & Read and Texas Instrument’s Speak & Spell have had a formative role.
K: Ha. Very droll. You know that’s question number one in the Big Book of Cliched Journalist’s Questions. I’d probably just list the usual suspects: Hunter S; Nick Kent et al back when the NME was actually interesting to read and had some attitude; oh, and Warren Ellis’ Spider Jerusalem. I like to think of it as gonzo but for music. The gonzo ideal of participatory interpretation, full-frame negative kind of thing. No alterations in the dark room: the journalist’s eye as camera.
SI: Yeah, I see the Hunter S. Thompson similarities. It does usually read like you are under the influence of heavy sedatives.
K: Quite.
SI: And that you haven’t done much editing. There’re not many art critics on there though, apart from those NME writers in the 70s.
K: But I remember not that long ago NME was still a good read. Maybe it’s just me getting older and cynical but it used to really mean something; they used to just rip albums apart. Either that or big them up like they were the greatest thing since electricity. Some of the earlier reviews were hilarious. You don’t get anyone out there doing that anymore
SI: Vice has good music reviews. What music magazines do you read then.
K: I do still get NME but it’s mainly just to have something to piss me off. The Wire is the only one I read regularly. But it so often reads like an engineering manual. They talk very eloquently about the music but it’s just a description. It doesn’t tell you much about whether it’s actually any good. They seem to have resigned themselves to the fact that the kind of avant-garde and experimental music they usually discuss is never going to achieve any real success. There’s no championing of the “This Band Will Change Your Life” type.
SI: How about on-line?
K: Oh, yeah. Of course. There are a hundred blogs I could mention but I’ll probably just forget the best ones. There’s a great collaborative community spirit among writers too. As far as magazines go, apart from this estimable publication of course, I read Stylus and Drowned in Sound most days. Tiny Mixtapes, Fakejazz, Foxy Digitalis, Dusted… I’m probably missing out a tonne.
SI: A lot of your influences are growing pretty long in the teeth. Any more recent journalists you’d like to mention?
K: Well, I suppose I’d have to put Will Self in there. He’s writing some column at the moment for the Independent, I think, called Psychogeography. It’s always brilliantly cynical. Ralph Steadman illustrates it, too, so I guess Self is this generations Hunter S. Thompson in more ways than one.
SI: Are you into the philosophy behind Psychogeography then?
K: The Situationists do interest me, definitely. It’s easy to criticise something like that that looks so contrived and privileged in retrospection but I like their attitude. I like the concept of the derive. Probably because I have no sense of direction.
SI: Same, man. I have no idea what city we’re in half the time. I have this fear of some Spinal Tap-esque moment where I walk on and declare my greetings to Edinburgh in front of a crowd of Glaswegians…
K: Yes, yes. I’m sure. Let’s try and stay focussed on what the readers are interested in.
SI: i.e. You.
K: Exactly. So Self is someone I admire. Martin Amis, too. There are some journalists doing worthwhile work out there but mostly its just a bunch of embedded puppets like Andrew Marr or Matthew Parris. Just spokespeople for a very narrow group of society. Political journalism is very weak at the moment. There are a lot of committed and revolutionary writers out there but there’s no platform for anything outside the mainstream media. You either have to try for entryism - infiltrating ‘The System’ and then starting the rot - in which case you just become absorbed into the value system, or you stay out on the fringes where noone can hear you. I don’t have any solutions, really.
SI: (playing idly with a beermat) Uh-huh. Fascinating. Back to the Situationist derive, we’re in Aberdeen for a couple of weeks I think. What should we be checking out?
K: In Aberdeen. Are you serious? Err… there’s a Van Gogh exhibition on at the moment. I’m not much of a fan though. You could go and see the Datsuns on Sunday.
SI: I’ll pass. Onto more pressing matters: If you were a Care Bear, what would you have on your chest?
K: Another probing question. I guess I always had an affinity with Wish Bear. But probably Grumpy Bear would fit my ethos on life better. He was years ahead of his time with his neo-skeptic stoicism. What about you?
SI: What was the one with the heart on his stomach?
K: Tenderheart.
SI: That one.
K: Yeah. Wasn’t that the gay one?
SI: I think we’ve reached the tone of this interview. Okay, here it is: the ultimate question. As posed by the great St Nick, ‘Do I listen to pop music because I’m miserable or am I miserable because I listen to pop music?’
K: You’re miserable because you have ginger hair.
SI: Now, now. Play nice.
K: Music can make you miserable, of course. It can induce all sorts of emotion. I can think of a lot of music that certainly hasn’t made me miserable. Quite the opposite: it can be elating, vitalising. Whenever I recall ‘happy’ moments in my life I can always here some kind of music playing in the background.
SI: Absolutely. Whenever I think of anything there’s always some specific tune accompanying it. Playing music is never depressing, for me. Being up on stage is such a rush it’s impossible to be introspective.
K: That’s probably to do with the kind of music you play. I think Hornby was more getting at how what starts out as a hobby or an interest in music becomes an obsession and begins to signify other very important aspects of your life. So, in that sense it’s kind of a symbiotic relationship. The one perpetuates the other.
SI: Yeah, but I think it is a certain kind of personality - maybe a depressive one - that migrates towards that kind of world, though.
K: Well there’s probably some truth in that. There’s quite a personality clash within your band though, don’t you think? I mean, Duck [singer] always seems very high-spirited and exuberant whereas you and Derek are maybe a bit more retiring. Sometimes?
SI: How people appear on the surface, or at gigs or on stage doesn’t necessarily reflect their personality very well. We all put on a bit of a mask when we’re going around ‘as a band’. But yeah, I’d say Duck is more carefree or gregarious than Derek and I. Anyway, I’m the one asking the questions. Back to journalism. Now, we’ve had a bit of a love-hate relationship with music journalists. Would you like to take this opportunity to apologise on behalf of the profession for shoddy journalism?
K: It’s definitely a problem. You get one guy with an axe to grind or who just doesn’t get it and it’s difficult for a band to recover from that kind of press.
SI: Yeah, journalists suck. We had a reviewer last week that basically just cut-and-pasted an old review from a gig we’d played almost a year ago in London. I don’t think he’d even gone to the gig.
K: That is seriously lazy. In our defence, it is a real hassle to stand through some gig by a band you can’t stand. I can’t imagine that would ever happen with you lot though!
SI: Thanks. What would be your Family Fortunes anecdote?
K: Oh, man. I dunno [stares at table for a good 30 seconds] I was on Blue Peter as a kid.
SI: Jeez, that is lame.
K: I once met Bernard Lee (M from James Bond). He was sitting in my seat on the aeroplane.
SI: …
K: Well, what’s yours?
SI: Dude, I’m in a band. I wouldn’t know where to start.
K: I’m not sure that’s what daytime TV wants to hear about. Anyway, this is supposed to be about me.
SI: Yes, I keep forgetting. Well I guess you want me to ask you about your views on journalism or art criticism or something.
K: Finally. I thought you’d never ask. Well…
[unnecessarily authoritative-sounding barman] Last orders, guys.
K: Aww, screwy.
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