[fantasmusica]

Matthau and the Muse.

By sheer luck, our paths cross a few days before Matthau Mikojan’s comeback album is released – I have just arrived in his hometown Tampere, he is just about to fly out to Berlin, where he’ll be playing two acoustic gigs. We convene in a bar just opposite the Pakkahuone, one of the major Tampere rock clubs, and take our beers to a snug in the corner to talk about Her Foreign Language – his first album for four years, and the first he ever played, recorded and produced entirely on his own. Its release came as a bit of a surprise – on the one hand, because for the last four years, there had been hardly any news from the Matthau camp at all, and on the other, because he had reinvented himself as a committed band player with his previous work, Hell Or High Water. And now, the new album is as much solo as can be, and also features a distinctive late sixties/early seventies sound, pure and raw, while Hell Or High Water was quite a modern, loud and compressed production. Therefore, the first question is an obvious one:

What happened?

“What happened was ...” Matthau puts down his beer and casts a look at the mp3 recorder lying on the bench between us. “Is it rolling? – Well. We weren’t going anywhere, as a band. There were songs we tried to work out but we couldn’t, and musically, it was not developing at all. I was hearing new material, and I knew I couldn’t do it with the line-up. I basically told everyone I’m not into this anymore and I need a break. And at that point, I didn’t have a plan B.” It didn’t take too long, though, until one came up. While Matthau started working on his own demos, he developed an interest in recording techniques, and he started to check out manuals, read about recording and went to see studio engineers at work. “I learned by trial and error,” he says, “and simply by recording a lot. For friends, for myself – just to get practise and to gain confidence.” 

A big part of the long gap between the last two albums was due to the painstaking work of educating himself in engineering and building up his own studio. A task that proved to be quite demanding: “I’m not sure I would do it again.” Which is, of course, rather a figure of speech, as he quickly corrects himself: “Oh, but I would, I definitely would! As we speak, I actually think about making another record like this. I can’t say I really took a lot of notice how everything works when we were in the studio before, therefore I had no idea how much work goes into every stage of making a record.” He pauses for a moment. “The hardest part was probably a kind of maniacal phase, where I didn’t sleep. For about half a year, I just worked constantly, I didn’t even answer the phone anymore, and then I got totally depressed about the whole thing. Nothing I did was good enough. The whole creativity vanished, and there came the lowest low. I had to take a little break; I realised I couldn’t skip eating and sleeping but had to find a way to work normally.”

At our last interview, just after Hell Or High Water had been released, he kept on emphasizing the fact that Matthau Mikojan was a band rather than a solo artist with his henchmen, and even though he was still perceived as the main singer and songwriter, he considered himself as just one of the guys. Now he has come full circle, reinventing himself not just as a solo artist but as a solo artist who did every little bit on the record himself. Which sounds a bit like what happened when he left his first band Bloodpit in 2007 and came out with his first solo album Matthau Mikojan one year later, is it not?

Matthau disagrees. “No, back then it was drugs,” he admits. “In retrospect, it’s easy to be honest: It was purely, 100 per cent drugs. I just couldn’t go on – I needed help, and I got help. It had nothing to do with me wanting something else. And this time, I made this record alone because it was really the only option. I would have gotten a drummer for the record if I had known any fantastic and available drummers. But from cutting my demos I knew that I could play them myself and decided to do so.” 

Yet, Matthau has been practising with a full band again, which features Janne Sundvall on bass – a well-known face from Matthau’s last two solo albums – and another old friend on drums, Alarik Valamo from Bloodpit, “a fantastic drummer”, as he emphasises. And while Hell Or High Water wasn’t a very guitar dominated album, Matthau now proves himself again as a very fine guitarist: On Her Foreign Language, it often feels that the singer is doing duets with his guitar.

“That’s true,” he says, “there is a lot of multi-tracking. I wasn’t thinking about how to play the songs live! Obviously I can’t play three or five guitars at the same time.” With a grin, he adds: “Though I can always give it a try.” Tracks like “Lobotomy Blues” have so much guitar on them that it’s almost verging on self-indulgence – a guitarist letting himself getting carried away, audibly having lots of fun. Besides, the sixties/seventies arrangement shows a strong link to the guitar heroes of old, like Jimi Hendrix or Keith Richards: In contrast to the highly compressed sound of today, all the elements can be clearly differentiated; guitars, vocals, drums all have their own space.

Matthau is pleased to hear that. “That’s exactly what I was after – the authenticity, the 70s sound. I love the 70s way of recording. I used the same techniques to record the drums like Glyn Johns did when he recorded the Stones, with a few microphones to capture the sound. Well, I used four, he used three, allegedly. Anyway, I tried to make it as authentic as possible. I didn’t have a 50,000 Euro reel tape machine, I had to use some computers on the way, but I tried to keep it pure and I think I did alright.”

It’s a sound that surely appeals to older music fans actually familiar with the classics from the heyday of rock, but also to all those tired of the overproduced, streamlined and computer-generated music of today. “People will acknowledge genuine stuff. Always. Whenever it’s genuine and comes from the heart, it usually goes well.”

[Matthau live @ Berlin, 2015, (c) Irina Grabe]

Apart from the authenticity of the music, Matthau delivers his lyrics with heartfelt emotion. While love songs like “You” are presented with a dark, tender, almost shy and intimate voice, he is just as good at depicting anger, aggression or frustration – very fitting to his style of writing, which relies more on creating an atmosphere or painting pictures than telling stories.

“That’s exactly the way I see it,” he agrees. “Pictures. It’s always been like that. Take Bloodpit songs like “Platitude”: A woman came up to me once and asked me what it is about, and that was the first time I started thinking about it … I tried to come up with an answer but I couldn’t. I totally get it myself, but I could never explain it to you. It’s a picture. It’s emotion, like painting with words.”

Some of the lyrics on Her Foreign Language roll along in a free-flowing stream of consciousness. “Masquerade” could very well be a film, with the protagonist giving his personal account of the weird and disturbing images he sees.

“It was inspired by Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut. The TV was on while I was struggling to write the lyrics in a big house, and I just wanted to try something completely different, pure horror fiction, and that is how this song came about. ‘Thoughts Of Glass’ has another story to it. During the making of the record, some people I knew died. I also read this book about Kurt Cobain, and I was thinking a lot about this concept of young people taking their own lives. They all took their own lives. Young people. Very young people. This started to play a part in the song – I was imagining a band in heaven with me singing, as if to say, everything is going to be alright, you didn’t mean it … It’s not dedicated to anything really, but it has got these people’s stories in it. The chord sequence is almost Nirvana’s ‘Polly’.

Are you a Nirvana fan?

“I used to be. I used to love Nirvana, growing up.”

Traditionally, rock music used to be one of the most successful ways to rebel against the generation of your parents. For the son of a renowned Finnish rock musician, this was probably a different matter. Did you ever want to listen to other music than that which was played in your home?

“I never knew any other music. There was always rock’n’roll, always the blues … In the nineties, I wanted to build up my own collection. I bought records by Sepultura or Slayer but I never genuinely liked any of them, as much as I tried. There was one band though that I was heavily in love with at the time, an Irish band called Therapy?. This was probably the only side road I ever took.”

Matthau even supported his heroes a few years ago at two gigs in Finland, while playing in a cover band called Potato Junkies with the ex-members of Bloodpit. And wasn’t there also a hint of Therapy? to the Bloodpit sound itself?

“Oh yeah, quite a bit, to be honest. Also some Deftones and nu metal bands which I always hated.”

Why?

“I was rock’n’roll, while [Bloodpit guitarist] Paavo was metal. We got the two combined. And I think we created something new.”

Bloodpit certainly did, with the two powerful albums Mental Circus and Off The Hook. The full force of the band at their peak can be experienced on their DVD Live@Nosturi from 2007, though Matthau now claims: “I don’t recognise myself when I watch it. That’s a totally different guy. Even the personality has changed.” He smiles and adds: “And now, I’ve come full circle, with Alarik playing in my band again. We’re all very excited and hope to get this thing off the ground, in Finland and outside Finland. My biggest wish is to go to Germany for a tour.”

Our talk - indeed more a relaxed chat now than a formal interview - reverts to the new album. When I speculate about the title – whether it has anything to do with the old cliché of women speaking in a language men don’t understand – Matthau shakes his head:

“No. – Think of a muse. Inspiration. The muse to me is something not really tangible. And ultimately, it’s you. It comes from within. Take the opening track for example, ‘Wrapped’: ‘I called the muse “whore”, she’s not with me anymore’ – inspiration has left, and then she’s back … There’s a muse on the cover as well.” He laughs: “Oh damn, now I’ve removed the whole magic!

– No, it actually says on the sleeve: This record is dedicated to the muse, ‘her foreign language’. It’s about finding your own inspiration, which is ultimately you and your life, life itself. It’s a very positive message. But then again – when I wrote the song ‘You’, I realised I never told anyone ‘I love you’ so directly. I always used a brush to paint a picture. And I thought to myself, this is really cheesy, I can’t say I love you. But then again, I’ve never said it before, so I thought, this is my chance. The song really wrote itself. I didn’t have anything to do with it – I picked up the guitar and played it.”

Her Foreign Language features a variety of styles, from love songs like “You” or “Gold And Silver” to shouters like “Another Snake In Paradise”, which was actually already recorded for his second album Mania For Life in 2009, until Matthau finally decided that it didn’t fit the concept of the record. This time, he recorded 24 songs and also took a careful pick, meaning that there is another album’s worth of material still waiting to be released.

“I’m already thinking about making the next one,” he says, “ and I’m not sure whether I should do it this way again ... because it took me a long time and it was quite demanding, too. Once I had the CD in my hands yesterday …” He pauses. “It’s great, but at the same time it’s always a bit of a downer. You get the record and think: This is it? I spent the past two and a half years with this and now it’s done? What am I supposed to do now? - Let’s make another one!”

The first person he played the whole album to when it was finished was his brother, the former Negative guitarist Sir Christus, who has disappeared from the public eye for a while but who is allegedly playing with a band again and is writing songs. “I heard a few that he sings in Finnish,” Matthau says who claims to be a big fan of his brother, just as Sir Christus is a big fan of his. “Great stuff.”

A lot of Finnish artists who initially started their career with English songs now seem to have switched to their native language; Jonne Aaron for instance, Negative’s lead singer, is now singing Finnish-language iskelmä, the very antithesis to the hard rock he used to do. Would singing in Finnish also be an option for you?

“No. I don’t think I’d be very good in Finnish. Besides, I’d hate to play only in Finland. It is such a small country. But yeah, there is this trend; I think it has to do with the fact that rock’n’roll seems to have died a few years ago. The new wave of Glam Rock was disappearing, and there had to be something else. I think it is important to stick to your guns if you believe in what you do. Yeah, Jonne Aaron sings in Finnish.” Matthau shrugs. “It’s a completely different thing, but it seems to make him happy. It’s not up to me to say if that’s a good thing or not. It’s just a matter of fact.”

Another thing Matthau believes in are physical records. He decided to release the album on CD, even though it would have been out much sooner if had he settled on a digital release only. Her Foreign Language is out of course on all the usual digital platforms from iTunes to Spotify, but he wanted people to have something tangible, something they can own.

What was the last physical record you bought?

“Stone Temple Pilots, Number 4, on vinyl. I love vinyl. It’s the only true format.” No surprise therefore that he is hoping to release Her Foreign Language on vinyl sometime, too.

Finally, what have you found out about yourself while making Her Foreign Language?

“I found out that I don’t want to give up. I will always write, and I’m always at my best when I’m in trouble, when I’m in a sticky situation. There were a couple of times when I almost pulled the plug on the whole thing because I didn’t believe it was ever going to see the day. It was a huge amount of work. But well, it looks like I got it done.” Matthau smiles again. “Because now I have the CD.”

[Matthau Mikojan, Berlin 2015]

[biograffiti]

It’s twenty years since Richey Edwards went missing, today. Twenty years since he parked his car at Aust services by the old Severn Bridge and…who knows what happened next? I remember it happening, at around the same time Stephen Fry went missing from the play he was doing in the West End. Stephen...

[fantasmusica]

Black Snakes from Finland, singing about a world without dictators.

My Saturnettes band mate Jani has a new project: Jani Matti Juhani & Mustat Käärmeet, which is Finnish for Jani Matti Juhani (erm, yes, I suspect you guessed this much) and the Black Snakes. Their first EP is called “Maailma ilman diktaattoreita”, which, to my best of knowledge, translates as “A World Without Dictators”. The synths are gone and have been replaced by a wealth of rock sounds, ranging from Sabbath to early Beatles, and the lyrics are in Finnish this time. Admittedly, I have only a vague idea what they are about, since I don’t speak nearly enough Finnish to detect black humour properly, but that hasn’t stopped me from listening to the four tracks all day today, simply because they sound bloody brilliant. Especially “Tanssimaan” which is “With The Beatles” all over. And the title track with its dark riff and the music hall middle eight.

Fantastic stuff, just as always. The main Finnish music mag Soundi seems to think the same, featuring the new EP on their website with an interview.

Check out their music and watch their first video clip, urban guerilla style.

[fantasmusica]

"Don't go fishing for compliments in stagnant ponds." Not even with a sharp Hook.

It has been a while since I last talked to Peter Hook. The first time we met was in 1992, when I was working on a Factory Records feature. We met at the stylish new Factory Headquarters at Charles Street, and according to my diary he said to me at some point: "Your time is gonna come." Or something like that. We hit off, anyway.

He takes my call in the car on the way to Manchester Airport since he is about to fly out to Spain. Still, we have half an hour for all the important news on the new shows with his band The Light - and for a lot of the bitterness Peter Hook clearly feels for his former colleagues whom he refers to as "those pretending to be New Order".

But let's start with the upcoming shows. After doing the Joy Division sets and later, New Order’s first two albums Movement and Power, Corruption And Lies, the focus is now on Low-Life and Brotherhood. Will it be a big change from performing the first two New Order albums?

"Well, they are quite unusual songs," Peter says, "and the difficult bit is keeping them together in the LP format. With New Order, if there was a tough song that we’ve written, we just wouldn’t play it. Now I don’t have that freedom, do I? I have to play it. Otherwise it blows my whole concept. And on these albums are a few tough songs."

 Which was the toughest then?

"They are all very highly programmed. Bernard and Steven in particular were really reaching their peak of being masters of the equipment. There are a lot of overdubs, a lot of keyboard lines and a lot of sequencer lines - and because of our relationship, I don’t have access to those. I have to fabricate them, which is a big job. But no, it has been good, and I must admit, hearing the songs coming together has been very, very nice. It really does conjure up a feel of that time, of the early eighties and going into the nineties. The thing is, because I am still at loggerheads with the others, it tends to make you think everything is crap. Playing the songs, you actually realise: Oh! We were great together! We might have our petty arguments and petty niggles, but we did write some wonderful, wonderful music, and these two albums contain some fantastic tracks."

Great songs indeed - some of the greatest New Order classics originate from this period: "Blue Monday" or "True Faith". Though even then, New Order were not your average live band who would get on stage, shout "Do you wanna get fucking crazy?" and rock their asses off. By its very nature, the music of New Order was cool and controlled - and probably just as difficult to play then as it is now.

But as Peter said, there always was a lot of choice. New Order were very prolific, and along side the regular albums, there was always a large number of extra tracks, such as "Perfect Kiss”, “Thieves Like Us”, “Shell Shock”, or “Touched By The Hand Of God”. The new shows by Peter Hook and The Light will feature a lot of those, too. The shows with first New Order set ran for about three hours. And this one?

"The same. And you know what? It doesn’t feel like three hours!" As much as his excitement about the new shows is palpable, even over the phone, the strong undercurrent of bitterness against his old band is never far away: "Considering that New Order, when they started, played only for 20 minutes - and that felt like a lifetime! It shows how you change as you grow older. Here I am, playing for three hours, and it feels like 20 minutes! Very strange, the way the world turns."

Sounds like you’re turning a bit into Bruce Springsteen.

"Haha, yes. But it has to be done. When I started this concept of doing the albums, I didn’t want to short-change anybody, you know. The albums are done, and the songs around the albums are a pleasure to play. I never realised before what great songs 'Shell Shocked' or 'Confusion' were."

Songs that were not played too often by New Order, as Peter Hook found out himself, checking the internet. "I was amazed," he confesses. "Some of the songs hadn’t been played for 25 years, some of them had never been played at all. And now it's great for a fan: You have those pretending to be New Order playing the same set over and over again, while we play all the other songs that the rest of them won’t play. This way, you get to hear them all!"

And yet, New Order fans are hardly having a good time at the moment, watching Hooky and the rest of the band slagging each other off at any given opportunity. How exactly are things now between you and the other three?

Peter sighs. "It’s awful. I am no nearer a settlement over their use of the New Order name and it is a very difficult legal process." He pauses and repeats: "It’s awful. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy." Then he adds mischievously: "Though, Morrissey has already been through it, hasn’t he? – I’m joking. That was a joke."

Morrissey has probably been suffering more than anyone else on the planet.

"Yeah, he seems to have a lot of health problems as well, hasn’t he? – Well, but I thought the same about the Stone Roses. Ian Brown in particular has such a huge catalogue outside of the band. I actually felt sorry for Ian, for being lumped in, back again. With Morrissey, it's the same. Morrissey has written some fantastic music outside of the Smiths. He has been a lot more prolific than any of the other members. He gets a lot of undeserved criticism, I think."

When a band splits up, it’s always a bit like a divorce – it feels like you have to take sides ...

"It’s true, but what I find is that with most divorces, you don’t let the one party do the other party’s alimony. And that’s what New Order have done to me. And that’s what I am complaining about."

Oh well. Seems like that's the moment for the big question. What exactly went wrong in New Order? And indeed, Peter is more than happy to tell his version of the split once more. I would have thought he might hate to be asked about it again and again, but clearly, this is a matter that rankles heavily with him.

"The reason that New Order split up in 2006 was because I couldn’t stand Bernards behaviour. In my opinion, his behaviour was terrible, not only towards the group, but also towards the music and towards the audience. And that, for me, was a step to far: This is bad, this group needs to finish. And it worked! I mean, we may be at each others throats now, but Bernard, unless he has been kidnapped by aliens and they send us the wrong one back, seems to enjoy gigging now! He loathed everything that had to do with the group. So splitting the group up in 2006 worked for him! The one thing that gets me though is that I believe, if Bad Lieutenant had been a success, he wouldn’t have brought New Order back."

Maybe.

"There’s not much maybe about it."

Bernard's tale of the split can now be found in his autobiography, Chapter And Verse - out in the shops on the very day this interview is taking place. The day before a photo of you with Bernard's new book appeared on the net. How did you like it then?

Peter is all sweetness. "Oh, it’s wonderful."

Is it indeed? I haven’t read it yet.

"Oh, you’re in for a treat. In my opinion he is using his book to justify the reason why he got New Order back together again. And it turns out that I am a complete bastard." Phoner or no, you can see the raised eyebrows and the shrug. "There you go. And as my mother said: Peter, you don’t go fishing for compliments in stagnant ponds. I should not look in Bernard’s book to try to get an insight into me. He is awful. Most of the things he says are wrong and I disagree completely. He is – in my opinion – manufacturing it, so that people like you will go: Oh, no wonder he reformed New Order without him then. I am getting the job as a pantomime villain, because this is what I am in his opinion."

Well, in most books the villain is the most interesting character.

"I’ll take that compliment!" A short laugh before we're in for the next exasperated bitter rant. "It’s tough though. I mean, I did two books, the Hacienda book and the Joy Division book, and I was pretty aware that these books live forever. I wanted to make sure I was very very fair about the others, and I think I achieved that. In Bernard’ book, he set out to be the opposite. I hope he is happy with it and that he is proud of it. The reason I didn’t do one book was because I didn’t think you could do any of them justice in just one book. I got offered a lot of money to do one book and I turned it down because I to tell the story properly and truthfully. -

I don’t think Bernard got New Order’s story very well at all, because he was trying to do it all in one book. I put that down to greed and laziness. Because I know him. I have known him since he was eleven years old. But I think I have the answer. I am halfway through my New Order book, so it will be very interesting for people to read the other side. And in my book I will make me out to be even more of a bastard, because you said the villain always gets the best role. I’ll say, a young lady in Germany told me that the villains always come out well so I’m making me the villain in my own book!"

Just think of John Silver in Treasure Island.

"Yeah, I know, a great book! – But you see, everybody had their different version, even when we were together in New Order. We would sit there, and we would all remember one story completely differently. And you are entitled to that. But I find myself at this moment at a very difficult position. When you read Bernard’s book, you will understand why. Because he laid it on very thick. I think he feels bad about reforming New Order without me, and this is his justification. So that the fans will think: Oh, he was right. And he wasn’t right. It’s a terrible thing."

Well, I’m curious to read all about the villain now.

"Well, borrow it, for it’s not worth buying."

You think I should go for the e-book only?

He laughs again: "Go for the illegal download."

As nasty as things are with New Order at the moment, many other old friendships seem still stable and intact. In his blog, Hooky continually refers to mates from the early years, like his friend Twinny whom he has known since he was 15. And The Light are basically all old friends, too - most of them played in his New Order side project, Monaco, with only the exception of his son, John Bates, who has joined The Light as a bass player. Even David "Pottsy" Potts, with whom Hook fell out a few years ago, is back into the fold, much to his delight.

"It’s lovely to have him back since he is such a great guitarist," he enthuses. "He’s so passionate. He loves the music. When I watch my boys transcribing New Order’s music, they put so much heart and soul into it, that you wish sometimes that they’d have written it. The amount of work they put in, they deserve the accolade."

Which reminds me of a quite shocking experience I had when I mentioned the upcoming interview with Hooky to an admittedly considerably younger friend whom I found had no idea at all who Joy Division or New Order were, even though she listens to a lot of dark rock music. Is "Atmosphere" now a nostalgia tune grey-haired 50 somethings put on to remind them of their youth? Who goes to The Light's gigs?

"You know, when I started doing it, I thought the audience would be full of fat old blokes like me," Peter says, the twinkle in his eye clealy visible, phoner or not. "But delightfully, the audience is very mixed and also very young." Phew, that's some comfort. "It depends where you are. We were in Washington recently, and the audience was very old, but when we played in Warsaw, in Moscow, or in Mexico, the audience was very, very young - it was unbelievable! It seems to depend on the geographical. When you stand on stage and watch a mosh pit develop, you know these are only young kids. Though a few old ones also get involved, and I always look at these old blokes in the mosh pit and think: Oh my God, you’re going to feel terrible tomorrow, mate."

He continues: "It is difficult sometimes, talking to someone asking: What was Ian Curtis like? Because they are so young, there is an interest in the story, and unfortunately, this whole 'live fast, die young' thing impaired to rock’n’roll, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, et cetera, still holds such a fascination, especially to younger people. But from my point of view – I ignored Joy Division’s music for 30 years. I ignored a lot of New Order’s music for 30 years. But I felt it was a mistake at the time. I had discussions with Bernard and Steve about it."

Which brings us back to New Order again. "I said, can’t we play some of the older stuff? And Bernard would just go categorically No. Eat shit, no. I said, well, that’s what we built up our following with, that’s why people come and see us, because of the old stuff. No. No. They more or less played the same set list as the reformed New Order as we did when we were New Order in 2006, and New Order in 2000, and amazingly, New Order in 1996! I mean, fucking hell! These are the reasons why I used to be so unhappy! Because basically we are so lazy and boring. To be in New Order, playing the same stuff over and over again! I didn’t understand it! But that’s what Bernard and Steven were like, you know?"

Now The Light gives him the freedom to change the setlist more frequently, though on the other hand, sticking to the album format comes with its own restrictions. And albums tend to have their own dynamics and create their own powerful atmosphere. How does this affect the mood onstage?

"There is a strange gravity that comes with doing the albums. You are demanding a lot more from your group, and you’re also demanding a lot more from your audience. We played five albums so far: Unknown Pleasures, Closer and also Still in its entirety; then we did Movement and Power, Corruption and Lies, and now we’re doing Low-Life and Brotherhood. With the first five, it worked really well, and I do think it gives it a sense of occasion that takes it into art as opposed to pop. Cause you’re doing something much more difficult. And after 30 years as a musician, I like the challenge – it’s that what keeps you young and makes you look at life freshly. -

In New Order it was so boring and so stale, I was going, oh my God, I cannot believe that they’ve done it again, when are the fans going to realise … It’s weird. It’s a very strange situation to be in, and I don’t enjoy arguing. I am not enjoying the legalities that we’re going through, and yet neither of them will back down. It is awful, and it’s just marring everything, and make you think everything is crap, but the music made me realise that we made some wonderful things together. I think you need to focus on that."

What you just said about playing the whole albums makes it sound almost like classical music, like presenting the complete “work” …

"Yes, and it is in a way. The amount of work we used to put into producing those albums, to making them run in the correct way, to making the atmosphere spread throughout the whole LP, that was an endeavour. It scares me with music these days, when you look at iTunes, when everyone just looks at the most called in. I must admit, I do! I was looking at The National recently, and I thought, oh, I'll listen to the most called in songs. You’re losing what I used to love about music. I used to love putting on an LP, like when I had an Iggy Pop LP, when I had [Lou Reed's] Berlin, when I had [Ian Dury's] New Boots And Panties. I would sit there and listen to the whole record, and immerse myself in it. And that’s what I’ve gone back to doing, and I must admit, I’m very, very happy to do that, because those records and that moment that they captured were very important to me."

Yeah … I know what you mean, my player has the bad habit of realigning music in alphabetical order instead of keeping to the track list of the album.

"The problem with my iTunes is that I have so much Joy Division and New Order on it that, whenever I go for a run, I have to listen to bloody Joy Division and always go like, shit! I keep meaning to take them off so that I don’t have to listen to them all time!" He laughs. "But no, I am immensely proud of what Joy Division achieved in their very short life, and I am immensely proud of what New Order achieved in their long life. In a way, I am happy to play the music, because I don’t want to let playground arguments spoil the music for me. And I enjoy it so much. You know, at the start of the set, we do a track called 'Lonesome Tonight', which was a b-side. It is such a fantastic song. Then we do 'Thieves Like Us' and 'Love Vigilantes' and then 'Perfect Kiss'. And hearing them together again is just like wow. I am really enjoying it. It is hard work, but I am enjoying it."

It’s a pity you only play Berlin and Hanover this time, I would have loved to come and see you in Hamburg.

"We actually find it very difficult to find gigs in Germany, don’t ask me why. We tried so hard to get over there when we were touring Joy Division, we tried again very hard with Movement and Power Corruption And Lies. People don’t realise it is not my choice not to come – I have always loved Hamburg. Many a time, Bernard and I would troll the red light district …"

I can imagine, for some reason.

"In my opinion, don’t forget." He laughs again, and with this last jibe at his former bandmate he says his goodbyes; he has arrived at the airport and will have to catch his plane. Before I start typing our talk, I find the lines of "Blue Monday" are going through my head: "How does it feel/when you treat me like you do?" Whoever might be to blame for the New Order crisis, it is clear that Peter Hook feels deeply hurt about it all. Let's hope that someday, he and the other three will find a way to talk things through and settle this feud.

Until then, New Order will not really be New Order without their sound-defining bass player -  just as much as The Light playing the old songs is not really the real thing.

[fantasmusica]

Don't Look Back In Anger: Luke Haines spills the beans.

"Bad Vibes" is the aptly titled tale of Haines' Auteurs years, in which he happily slags off just about everyone who happened to be around during that crazy time in the mid-nineties, when albums were sold with idiotic "buy British" stickers on the front and the mighty music papers built 'em up and knocked 'em down on a weekly basis. If you lived in faraway Germany, it was an exciting and exotic world that unfolded on the NME and the Melody Maker pages - while your home country jumped around to mindless Love Parade techno or to soulless American rawk of the Bon Jovi/Bryan Adams kind, there was yet the promised land not too far off, a little island in the North Sea where people still cherished the music of the Kinks and the Beatles and Bowie and T. Rex and revived this classic kind of sound. Besides, it seemed like the old guard of Indie rock had finally got the upper hand -  Factory unleashed the Madchester myth and raved, while Creation went Higher Than The Sun with Primal Scream. Camden Town and Madchester were vibrating with cool music.

While the Angry Young Man was in the middle of it, I was into it. I had subscribed to the British papers, listened to BBC Radio One via satellite and went to Britain whenever I had the chance. Being one of the main writers for German indie mag Zillo (which hadn't fully mutated to a shallow Goth fashion rag yet) I sometimes even found a record label to pay for the airfare, back in the glory days where e-mail interviews were out of the question due to the fact that hardly anyone had e-mail.

I was mad fer it. This should make "Bad Vibes" a lot less fun to read than it actually is, because Haines is hell-bent to piss all over my favourite bands. Suede - lightweights compared to the genius of the Auteurs, from whom they stole the crown that would have rightfully belonged to Haynes with a bit of arse-wiggling and the romanticism of fake council estate squalour. Pulp - pretty much the same, minus the arse-wiggling. Oasis and The Verve - Northerners. Pie eaters. Say no more. Never the twain shall meet, as our London-based hero never tires to point out. The Manic Street Preachers  manage to get away relatively unscathed, even though Richey's "4real" slashings should have made an ideal target for Haines' verbal attacks. But everyone else who dared to swing a guitar and write songs about houses in the country or girls and boys got their fill. Haines weighs them all and finds them wanting.

The reason why this still makes a very entertaining read for a Britpop aficionado like me is that Haines tells his story not just with a pinch of salt but with a whole sack of the white stuff, and he doesn't just slash out at Brett and Noel and Jarvis or at the egomaniacs disguised as record label executives, promo assistants or managers, but also at himself. The Luke Haines who struggles to get his vision heard in the early nineties is a tortured soul who tries to save himself from being hurt by others by hurting himself first. Don't show you care, because it'll make you vulnerable. Be cynical about everything, your band, your records, your shows to make sure no one else will have to say something bad about you. And then you can even switch to a megalomanic rant about your art that no one will dare to take apart.

And yet, he cares. Luke Haines is the proverbial bleeding heart who, without the wall of cynicism, would leak dry. He has a vision. And he knows that it doesn't mean a thing that Creation and Factory now play in the Premier League, because it is still the Premier League - and that in "the music business", business counts more than music. "I am certain that no person here is qualified to give me this accolade", he fumes about New Wave's nomination for the Mercury Prize. "I curse these Mercury swine. What do they know about art when they reduce everything into a competition to win a medal from a poxy phone company?"

The passion for his work leaks from every page. "I quickly learn how to use a four-track tape recorder", he says about the early demos. "With limited resources - a couple of guitars, an out-of-tune upright piano, cardboard boxes for drums, a Pixiephone, finger cymbals and a delay pedal - I make myself work nine to five each day ... By December I have a demo tape. A demo tape that's murky and wobbly but undeniably magical. Christ, even I'd buy this." The Auteurs sign with Fire Records and tie themselves down with a contract that is more hindrance than help when the big players start knocking at their door. They manage to wriggle themselves free, sign with Virgin subsidiary Hut and for a while, Haines continues, "I'm the new girl in town and everyone wants to fuck me". The Auteurs are big in Britain and big in France, and they almost conquer the US. Haines walks through doors, falls from walls, bruises his skin and breaks both ankles and develops a bad fear of flying. New Wave and Now I'm A Cowboy do well, but The Auteurs are not made to fit into the Britpop bracket - the bleeding heart doesn't want to be part of anything that's domineered by former football hooligans and "lads".

To make his point clear, he devises an album about terrorism and calls his new project Baader-Meinhof - because terrorists, as he explains with glee, are much cooler than popstars: "There's no way round it, the iconography and language of the urban guerilla is far superior to the iconography and language of rock. [...] The Pistols, jubilee boat trip; The Clash as urban guerillas in, er, Camden Town. Fuck that. Show me the grainy footage of the Baader Meinhof gang undergoing basic training with the PLO in Jordan." Well, yes: There has always been something glamourous about the freedom fighter and the rebel, though personally, I prefer guys with guitars to guys with guns.

Anyway, when the Baader Meinhof album is released, Britpop has also run its course. Biased as he is about his subject, Haines provides a lot of insights, and though it has not been enough to get me off Oasis and The Verve, I can see why he had to hate them. After finishing the book, I listened to New Wave once again after twenty years; when it came out, it didn't strike a chord with me, and though admittedly it's not a bad album, it still doesn't. Give me Dog Man Star anytime, or Northern Soul, Different Class and Definitely Maybe. But anyway, Luke Haines, thank you for taking me back to Camden Town. And for reminding me that Alan McGee was indeed an arrogant bastard when we met for an interview. You might be right, but for me, it was still magical.

[fantasmusica]

Three threesomes. The Cure play the nostalgia card once again.

This year, The Cure will release a new album. And they will go on tour again, presenting another trilogy – The Top, The Head On The Door and Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me. By all rights, I should feel thrilled. Not so much about the record, because that is, by all accounts, a collection of outtakes from 4:13 Dream which already felt like a collection of outtakes itself. But seeing my favourite band live again – now, that’s certainly some good news. And yet, I cannot help but feel strangely guarded this time. After all, it is another trilogy.

But that was in 2002, before The Cure released the utterly awful The Cure and the utterly bland 4:13 Dream, and they didn’t bother to go on tour in Europe anymore but only played the odd festival. They simply disappeared off my radar. Maybe for the better, too, because whenever I see a photo of Robert nowadays, still with his crows nest hairdo and the wonky lipstick, I feel a bit sorry for him. Though maybe, hopefully, the masquerade suits him well, and he only puts on a wig and some make-up for two or three photo shoots a year and for the gigs, while being able to live fairly unbothered somewhere in Brighton because no-one recognises him without the full Goth regalia. It’s not like he never tried to escape the image – as early as 1986 he cut off his hair and dramatically revealed the revamped, un-Gothed Smith on stage at The Cure In Orange. The fans were shocked and said so. And Robert dutifully let his hair grow back.

And now again, The Cure seem content to give the people what they want. Wild hair, lipstick, the old albums. It is the well-known dilemma of all rock bands that have been around for a while. They cannot get it right anymore: If they change, people will complain that the old stuff was better. If they don’t change, people will say that they play it safe. Besides, The Cure proved to be trend setters with the album theme shows; many other bands now revisit their complete classic albums on stage. Suede performed Dog Man Star shows last year, Marc Almond looked back upon his work with Marc And The Mambas. Commercially, this scheme clearly works. Rock is ageing, just as the fans, and who doesn’t like to re-listen to the music he or she grew up with, and to be taken back to a time when music still mattered. I certainly do. Which makes me part of the dilemma.

If The Cure had taken their second Trilogy set – Three Imaginary Boys, Seventeen Seconds and Faith – to somewhere near me, I would certainly have gone to see them. Even more so than to the choice they’ve announced now. On the other hand, the new threesome marks the time when I discovered the band; The Head On The Door was the first Cure album I ever heard, Kiss Me the first Cure tour I ever saw, and The Top has a lot of unnerving stuff, but also songs like “Shake Dog Shake” and “The Top” and is slightly underrated. Besides, The Cure are one of the best live bands I know; I have seen them an awful lot of times over the years and I have yet to see a bad gig. So well, yes, I think I will stay part of the problem. I’ll go to the shows, provided they’re not all in South America. And I’m pretty sure I’ll enjoy them.

Even if Robert decided to cut his hair again. Maybe even more so.

[fantasmusica]

Marianne melts in the mirror, or: Ups and downs with the Rolling Stones

Marianne Faithfull is sitting in front of a mirror, beautiful, frail, out of her head on drugs, and she is slowly watching her own face shift and melt until someone else stares back at her. The blond long hair is still the same, but underneath the fringe, the face in the mirror has the outlines and the eyes of Brian Jones, her former lover whom she left just like everyone else, and who has died a few months ago. With the tangled web of relationships between Brian, Keith, Mick and Anita in her mind, Marianne reaches for the pills and decides to end her life …

Sanchez’ book was lent to me by an older friend who knew I was interested in 60s rock, and I only read it once before returning it. Only a few days ago, when I came across Marianne Faithfull’s touching rendition of “Sister Morphine”, the mirror scene came back into my mind and I chased down an old copy of the very same German Playboy imprint edition that I read in 1980. As with so many books or films that mean the world to you as a teenager, it doesn’t live up to the memory. The mirror scene is short and unfeeling and not half as vivid and tragic and sexy as the one in my mind. The whole book is terribly opinionated; the German translation is a shambles, and the portrayal of Jones, Jagger, and Richards feeds off clichés and stereotypes. And yet, it still held enough fascination for me to read it again within two days.

Spanish Tony, as he was called at the time, spills the beans on what it was like to be Keith Richards’ drug dealer, and I hope he was a better drug dealer than a writer, but apart from all the technical shortcomings, the story is extremely powerful and would deserve to be made into a great film one day. Not the stuff about shooting the water rats, hiding drugs in children’s toys or getting blood transfusions for express detox. Not the stuff about the car crashes, the lesbian sex and the drug raids. No, the true core of the story is the tragic love triangle between Brian Jones, Keith Richards and Anita Pallenberg, set before the backdrop of Swinging London and the emergence of youth culture, and coming with a soundtrack of the Beatles and the Stones and Cream and random psychedelia. Jones would be cast as the Byronic hero, the doomed genius, the one that was too sensitive to survive. Richards would be the swashbuckling pirate, cold-hearted and brutal, not half as refined and great, but just as romantic. And Pallenberg, quite type-cast as the cool blonde German goddess (just like Nico), would pull the strings, or would at least think so, while in the end, she was just as doomed as her two lovers. Sanchez talks of her dabbling with black magic, casting spells against her adversaries, while in the background, Kenneth Anger would call for his Lucifer to rise. It is the ultimate story of love and betrayal.

The book also takes the reader back to a time when smoking dope was a major offence and could get you to jail; a time when the old men were still in power and would break butterflies on wheels in their courts once they managed to get hold of one of these long-haired yobbos. The band lived in constant fear of the corrupt British police and other state organisations who would tap the musicians’ phones, tip off journalists or set traps by planting drugs or weapons. The establishment was fighting back after having realised that rock music was dangerous. And it was, in the late 60s. It still had an edge of danger in 1980 when I read the book.

“Ups And Downs With The Rolling Stones” shaped my idea of rock music. Of course, it was a hugely over-romanticised idea, and we all know that rock music didn’t live up to the promise. It’s even hard to imagine now, with Jagger and Richards still touring the world, providing entertainment for the masses, that there once was a spark of revolution in their mere existence. But there was. If Spanish Tony is to be believed.

But even if he isn't: It’s not a bad thing to remember that there once was a time when culture was an incredibly powerful and dangerous weapon.

[fantasmusica]

Jann Wilde 2004-2014

Jann Wilde and I, we have a history. He was there when I needed music to save my mortal soul. Without knowing it of course. He just set up a Myspace profile and put some of his songs up. Which I happened to find on Monday, 21st February 2010, as I documented with a deceivingly short line in my journal: "Discovered the rather fantastic Jann Wilde - voice between Bowie and Jarvis Cocker."

At the time, I had turned my back to music writing; I was trying to act my age and earn my money as a respectable translator of books. Okay, I had a history of being obsessed with records and/or artists but the last time I had listened non-stop to one album for days or weeks or months had been in the mid-nineties, when I had, rather late, discovered the first Stones Roses album and fallen madly in love with it. The early 2000's saw me rather disenchanted with the new sounds that came up, and with the business surrounding it, too.

But then, 15 years later and completely out of the blue, it happened again. I hit Jann Wilde's Myspace site, found a handful of songs of his recent album Neon City Rockers and was hooked the very moment Wilde sang the first line of "Deimos And Phobos". I listened once, I listened again. Then I downloaded the full album. Neon City Rockers brought back the passion I had always felt for music - it was like having my personal record collection revisited, reminding me of how powerful it could be to listen to a song, to dive right into it and get totally carried away by its power. Somehow, this young guy from Finland seemed to know about all my favourite artists, about my love for Sixties pop, Glamrock and Britpop, he distilled their very essence and made new songs from that. Bowie. Bolan. Pulp. Suede. Even Queen. It was a strange experience which made me feel ridiculously close to this rock star character who looked like he came straight out of a novel I would have liked to have written myself, with his wild Robert Smith hair and his Velvet Goldmine outfits.

"Neon City Rockers" stayed in my player for weeks and months, at least until "Don't Play With The Flame On Your Hand" came out, and I was baffled to find my love for The Beatles mirrored in this new batch of music. And "Tokio Okei", Wilde's debut, was brimming with traces of one of my other favourite bands, The Cure.

But the strong connection to my own record collection was only part of the fascination of Jann Wilde's music. Above all, he wrote brilliant songs, he came up with intricate, beautiful melodies and blended sweet simple pop lyrics with unusual, touching metaphors and weird twists. Everything was soaked in melody, even the bass lines, most beautifully in "She's Got All The Love", a song that, by rights, should have been on Revolver.

Two more albums followed, this time under the moniker The Saturnettes, with even more briliant material. When the last one, The Saturnettes II, came out in November 2013, I had not only started to write about music again but I had also become a lyricist, contributing words to Wilde's music. It had been a crazy four years.

And now, Jann Wilde leaves the stage and closes the door behind him. He restored my belief in music when I thought songs wouldn't touch me anymore. He says goodbye with "Rock'n'Roll Dreams", a collection of his best tunes with lots of my favourites among them. You can listen and download it here.

Fare well, Mr. Wilde, and let rock history turn you into a proper legend!

[fantasmusica]

In Trash We Trust - Part 4: Trash Fest VI Acoustic Sunday

The acoustic Sunday is a new Trash Fest feature, a slightly mellow final note to all the noise of the past days. The Gloria has been done up really nicely for the event; the upstairs balcony is closed, but the downstairs floor in front of the stage is littered with low chairs and benches, with candles on the tables to create a suitably intimate atmosphere. Since it’s only three in the afternoon, it feels a bit inappropriate to have a beer, but something without any alcohol would counteract the Trash Fest spirit, and so it’s time for some lonkero again.

Latexxx Teens don’t fare so well, as it mercilessly shows in the quota of people checking their smartphones during their set. They might have done better without the clobbering drums, though the main problem is that Kami Kopat’s vocals are barely audible. Yet, they manage to get the crowd to sing along to the old KISS ballad “Beth”, before the Helldustrya guys enter the stage and pull of a surprise set with songs like “Melancholia”. Steven Lynx is more than a decent singer, though the guitars remain very basic.

Apollo’s Child are next. Their songs aren’t bad acoustic, but just like last night, they’re not that convincing, either, and they sound a bit alike in the stripped-down arrangement. Jaakko Turunen tries his best to infuse them with all the energy he has, even going for a rather unexpected full metal scream, but they still don’t really shine. It doesn’t help that Malice In Wonderland now mingle with the audience, getting asked for photos by fans, thus drawing some of the attention from the stage. Later, Chri$ and Tracy retreat to the mixing desk, and before Murder FM come on, we talk a little about their “Live For Today” video shoot and Chri$’ fascination for creeping and crawling animals.

The biggest surprise of today’s event are Murder FM. Even when playing acoustic, they’re louder and harder than the other bands on the bill, and though it can’t have been easy to accommodate their electro sound to an unplugged setting, the songs prove to be a lot more structured, dynamic and melodic – in short, a lot better – than their gig last night suggested. Sure, a Cure cover (“Burn” from The Crow soundtrack) will always get me, but I am also impressed by the dark and hypnotic quality of the rest of their set.

Norman Matthew dedicates “As Beautiful As You Are” to Mama Trash, before making way for Jaani Peuhu from Iconcrash. I remember the band vaguely from one of the bygone Trash Fests, but the set up now is rather adventurous – vocals and guitars, okay, but a tuba? Strangely enough, it works – the tuba brings a blast of fresh air to the usual singer-songwriter arrangement, providing a strong rhythmic structure.

[Private Line Acoustic Trio]

The finale is left for the true house band of Trash Fest, Private Line, or rather, their acoustic trio, consisting of Sammy, Jack and Ilari. Sammy has dressed up in a silver lame jacket for the occasion, Ilari wears a shirt, though not a tie, while Jack personifies the rock spirit. Their set today might be not as loud as the one on Friday, but it has the same energy, and judging by the moving lips around me, many people in the audience know the songs by heart. It’s a last great experience of community, proving that the Trash Fest spirit also lives on in quieter moments. And when the last bars of “Live, Learn And Grow Apart” die down and the house lights come up, it’s time for a last chat with old and new friends, and for making plans for meeting up next year, for another three or four days in a unique parallel universe.

Whatever bands will be on.

Because in trash we trust.

++++++++++

Fantasmusica would like to thank Karen Davidson for much needed background information and proof-reading.

[fantasmusica]

In Trash We Trust - Part 3: Trash Fest VI Saturday

[Gloria Theatre, Helsinki, with a bit of Lord Of The Lost, too. Photo (c) Lilacviking.]

Ben Christo also takes over the MC duties for tonight, since Chrystle Harms is probably busy backstage getting finally rid of any false eyelashes and applying the signature Lord Of The Lost black body paint. The next band, however, is introduced by Mama Trash herself, since Murder FM are one of the more recent additions to the Trash Family and fellow Americans. They play loud, noisy industrial, which the poor sound reduces to a wall of noise and hard-hitting drums, pierced by some serious shouting from singer Norman Matthew. They’re trying hard, no doubt about that, and maybe it’s just a question of personal taste that they don’t reach out to me; maybe they’re just trying too hard. The only song that sticks in my mind is a – admittedly rather decent – cover version of Simple Mind’s “Don’t You Forget About Me”. Sorry guys, but it seems like it’s time to see what’s going on in the upstairs foyer.

How do you become aware of bands that might fit the Trash Fest bill?

“Murder FM I contacted, because my assistant suggested them, but 99 per cent of the time, the bands approach me, I listen to them, decide if I like the music … basically, it’s just my opinion, but in most cases, it works. I am pretty lucky with the bands that come to me.”

– Mama Trash

AJ from New Generation Terrorists is at the bar, and we chat a little until we’re interrupted by a guy, asking AJ ever so politely if he would come and grab his girlfriend’s ass, “because she’s rather shy and wouldn’t dare to ask herself”. The kind of obligation you have to fulfil as a rock star, presumably. On my way downstairs, I run into Mama Trash who spontaneously agrees on a little interview, and we retreat to a table in the foyer and talk about her current obsession with Lord Of The Lost. They are, by her own admission, her favourites at the moment; she wants to bring them to the USA next year to do a tour with Murder FM and Fashion Bomb. “I’ll be tour managing,” she enthuses, “the only girl with these three bands – that shall be interesting! My mum was going: You’re going to be on the road with 15 men? And I’m like: Yep! I trust them!” Since I’ve just witnessed that some serious ass-grabbing is part of the rock star job description, “trust” is probably a matter of definition here.

[Yours truly & Mama Trash]

Inside the venue, Malice In Wonderland are already on stage, treating us to their most recent single, “Live For Today”, followed by a rocked-up cover version of Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy The Silence”. They are probably the smoothest band on this year’s bill, with their melodic, accommodating sound. Okay, singer Chri$ has added a “Wicked” to his name, and underneath the long sleeves, he may sport as many tattoos as the next man (or woman) in the place, but he’s looking a little clean-cut in comparison, with his blond bob and the waterfall-neckline t-shirt. Last year, he demonstratively wore a black feather boa to underline MIW’s glam side, while his outfit now is a lot more straight. Still, the grand gestures of the diva are there, the outstretched arms and Freddie Mercury poses, and even though I later hear people making some snide remarks about just that, I feel they go rather well with the emotional approach of the band. Besides, the Wonderlanders certainly know how to rock, even if they are on the opposite end of the washed/unwashed scale from Latexxx Teens.

[Malice In Wonderland, photo (c) Lilacviking]

Songs like “New Year’s Eve” have a great anthemic character with their soaring riffs, just like The Mission used to do them in the good old days, which is never a bad thing in my book. Malice In Wonderland also handle “Rain” by The Cult rather well, before switching back to their own material like “Lucifer’s Town” from their first album, which is greeted by loud, well-deserved cheers from the crowd. It’s also the last track in their half an hour set. I could have listened to them a lot longer – in spite of being a bit pussy-footed, they were and are my Trash Fest favourites with their clever balance between melody and noise.

For the five Scotsmen of States Of Panic it’s the first Trash Fest outing, though I have a feeling that we might see this lot again in one of the following years. Under their former moniker Peepshow, they already released two albums before changing their name earlier this year, and they describe themselves as glam metal, though their songs have a strong undercurrent of New York street punk. They open their set with the fast and noisy “One Of Us”, before singer Johnny Gunn asks the crowd once again to “make some fucking noise”. The crowd is happy to oblige and also, as the next song suggests, to “Scream Your Heart Out” – States Of Panic receive a really enthusiastic welcome.

[States Of Panic, photo (c) Lilacviking]

Particularly bassist Hex seems to be the centre of attention, though personally, I find the five of them looking surprisingly alike in a rather endearing Ramones kind of way. They offer a decent, energy-laden show and have a number of strong songs, like “Waking The Dead” or “Violate” – just the right soundtrack for a bit of serious head banging and jumping around. Not my first choice for listening to at home, but definitely a good live band.

“Lord Of The Lost are definitely my favourite band right now. Obviously, I like all of my bands, otherwise I wouldn’t have them. But there are going to be some changes because some bands have been with me for a while and I have grown out of them a little … it just happens. So next year, we’ll bring a few new bands on.”

– Mama Trash

[Lord Of The Lost, Chris Harms, photo (c) Lilacviking]

Lord Of The Lost are Trash Fest veterans, and besides, they are not just Mama Trash’s favourites but clearly the audience’s first choice, too. By now, Chris Harms wouldn’t have to tear his t-shirt any more (although he dutifully does it later on) – it’s enough to stand behind the mike and voice the first few lines of the catchy “Prison” chorus to make the whole floor join him in a wistful “what is heaven for”. Not bad for the second track into the set, and just to make sure, the next crowd pleaser, “Undead Or Alive”, is only a heartbeat away. “Sex, death and rock’n’roll”, chants the audience with conviction, while Harms promises everyone to “fuck you to death”, charming man that he is. At first glance, it might look as if the show was less focussed on Harms and his personal charisma as it used to be; instead of playing the blond, goth-industrial sex god singer, he tries to present himself more as a part of the band by playing guitar or tom toms, which makes him the blond, goth-industrial sex god guitarist/drummer for a change. But keyboarder Gareth Dirge gets a bigger slot in the limelight, too, stepping to the mike a few times, and guitarist Bo Six and bassist Class Grenayde have their own fun during the Roxette cover of “Sleeping In My Car”, going for some synchronised Pete Townshend windmill motions.

[Chris Harms, photo (c) Lilacviking]

Anyway, the biggest ace Lord Of The Lost have up their sleeves is their great sense of humour: they don’t believe in their own image one bit. “This is very, very tasteless, but this is Trash Fest!” announces Harms before prompting the fans to sing a cheap synth melody, thus bringing the stomping “Blood For Blood” with its “2-3-4 to the floor” chant dangerously close to German techno blockheads Scooter, while sporting a bright pink vest that is of course a nod towards Breast Cancer Awareness but still clashes slightly with the usual LOTL attire. But then again, this is the goth-industrial band from Hamburg who covered the Backstreet Boys without batting an eyelid last year. At the end of the set, which of course contains all the tried and trusted LOTL hits, from “Sex On Legs” and “Black Lolita” to the trusty old Lady Gaga warhorse “Bad Romance”, it gets even more trashy and colourful, when all five Lords drop their trousers to reveal bright pink briefs with their names written over their butts.

[Lord Of The Lost go pink, photo (c) Lilacviking]

Before the All Star fun is about to start, there is a short acoustic interplay by VDiva from German-Italian electro-rockers Lost Area. It is a brave move to enter the stage after Lord Of The Lost, all alone with a guitar, you have to give that. Still, his performance doesn’t work for me, but that might be simply down to the fact that at this moment, I wanna rock’n’roll all night and party every day, as KISS used to put it, and not sit down and listen, however good the songs might be. Indeed, there are a number of people leaving.

But then, Chri$ Wicked is back on stage, shouting “Reach out and touch me!”, thus introducing the first All Star number of the night, with Hex from States Of Panic on bass and Ben Christo on guitar, whose grinding riffs provide a fantastically harsh and rough backdrop, while Wicked (now in short sleeves and indeed sporting some tattoos) proves once again that his voice is perfect for the cool emotionality of Dave Gahan. WASP’s “Wild Child” is next: Jaakko Turunen gives his best Blackie Lawless impersonation but struggles with the higher notes, and Daniele Panza, who by now supports Ben Christo on guitar, pulls off a fantastic solo.

[Mama Trash All Stars, photo (c) Lilacviking]

A few new faces turn up on stage now and come up with a rather surprising number for this kind of event: Steven Lynx from Italian rockers Helldustrya takes over the lead vocals of a hard’n heavy version of “Smalltown Boy”. There are many puzzled faces in the audience; clearly, the rock crowd isn’t too familiar with 80’s synthpop songs, especially not with those openly addressing gay issues. As it happens, the abrasive guitars of Christo and Malice In Wonderland’s Tracy Loveless suit the old Bronski Beat hit perfectly well, and Lynx sings with deep conviction. (I later get the chance to ask him what this particular song means to him. “I’m not gay,” he says, “but I was badly bullied at school when I was young, and I could always totally relate to the lyrics.”)

 What kind of music did you grow up with?

“Heavy stuff. Anthrax, Megadeth, Manson … And earlier, Alice Cooper.”

– Mama Trash

Meanwhile, it is getting rather crowded on stage. Mama Trash is there herself, reading the names of the participating musicians from a sheet of paper which is understandable, since the coming and going of guitarists and bassists and singers and drummers is a bit confusing, but feels unnecessarily formal and stiff. Half of Lord Of The Lost’s line-up, including former drummer Any Waist, now join the Murder FM guys, Hex Panic and Jack Private Line for a dark and growly “(S)aint” by Marilyn Manson. All those who are not playing stand at the back of the stage now, singing and rocking with those in front of the microphones. AJ from New Generation Superstars and Jack from Private Line nod their heads in unison. Goran Toxicrose who is more than a bit inebriated, to say the least, sways from one side to the other until he finally puts his arm around VDiva. Chris Harms admires Daniele Panza’s masterful licks when Bowie’s “Heroes” gets a tough tackling. And when the last song comes up, almost everyone whom we have seen and heard in the past three days is taking part in the great finale, a smashing, soaring version of Billy Idol’s “White Wedding”, with VDiva, Goran and Chris Harms shouting into one mike, while Chri$ Wicked tries to free himself from Davey Superstar’s bear hug to join them for the chorus, too. Mama Trash is amidst the whole melee, taking photos, and after the last note has been played, she steps to the mike to loud “Mama, Mama” chants from the audience: “See you next October!” Goran is the first to get down on his knees in front of the promoter for the “We’re not worthy” bow from Wayne’s World, and within a second, all the guys and girls on stage follow his example. While it’s clear that this gesture is to be taken with a pinch of salt, the wise words of old Aragorn come to mind, when addressing the ring bearer towards the end of The Return Of The King: “You bow to no-one.” Yet, it’s true: Without Mama Trash, there would be no Trash Fest, no all stars, no three days of rocking fun.

[Mama Trash All Stars, photo (c) Lilacviking]

Before the story continues in part 4, Fantasmusica would like to thank

- Karen Davidson for supplying much needed background information and proof-reading

- Lilacviking for a bunch of fantastic photos

[fantasmusica]

In Trash We Trust - Part 2: Trash Fest VI Friday

The family looks more colourful than last year; Mama Trash has dedicated this year’s fest to breast cancer awareness and therefore called for everyone wearing a bit of pink. Still, black is the predominant colour. When we come in, Crystal Rain are already playing, a quite melody-orientated Finnish band with a striking female bass player, Anita, and singer Ryan Slade, who is striding along the well-trodden Ville Valo way, with his dark voice and woollen hat. They shine particularly when guitarist Johnny Fire is let off the leash and comes up with some brilliant, soaring licks; there is clearly some potential there, though they sometimes appear slightly under-rehearsed. They close their set with their new single “Halo”.

The host of the night is an old friend from previous Trashfests, Chrystle Meth Harms, who of course is none other than Lord Of The Lost’s front man Chris Harms, albeit in drag. After being platinum blonde in 2011 and black in 2012, she sports a pink bob this year and has donned a stunning white latex dress in honour of the next band, Latexxx Teens. “Italians have the biggest cocks in Europe”, Chrystle claims, before throwing the pink wig into the audience. Not to forget, the motto of the whole event is “In trash we trust”, as the video screens left and right of the stage proclaim again and again.

Latexxx Teens have been part of the Trash Family for some time, and their gritty, dark metal has me hooked immediately. They look fantastically unwashed in a delectable Motörhead way, though their dark riffs, fast guitars and relentless drums suggest a closer relationship to Ministry or Manson. Their painted faces clash with long hair and beards, but clearly, this set is not about fashion or what goes with the in-crowd, but about doing your own thing and rock hard. Their sound leans towards the inimitable third Sisters Of Mercy album, “Vision Thing” – singer Kami Kopat even lowers his voice to a similar baritone in “(s)ain’t (r)evolution”. Particularly the new songs from their soon-to-be released album Cold Heart And Old Scars work extremely well: “We Only Come Out At Night” and “Edge Of Insanity” are highlights of their set, and even though “Love Me To Death” might not be the most inventive title for a song but comes with a fantastic riff and great nasty feedback, while the quite substantial crowd is headbanging in unison in front of the stage. The Sisters connection comes even more to the fore, when Lord Chris Harms – now largely back to his male self, apart from the false lashes he’s still wearing – joins them for a ground-shaking cover version of “Temple Of Love”.

And since Latexxx Teens are still on stage, it’s the perfect moment for another cooperation with a more serious background. Mama Trash enters the stage to remind every one of this year’s breast cancer awareness motto and introduces the family super group that has recorded a song for this occasion: “Warriors” was written by Latexxx Teens and AJ from New Generation Superstars, and now the guest singers step to the mike: AJ, of course, Chri$ Wicked from Malice In Wonderland, Chris Harms, and VDiva from Lost Area, whose band isn’t playing but who has come nonetheless for the fun of it. This is what Trash Fest is about: seeing bands and singers playing together, interact, have fun on stage. The famous Mama Trash All Stars, a regular treat at the end of each Trash Fest, comes early this year.

Toxicrose should have been next, but since they’ve cancelled at short notice, New Generation Superstars agreed to step in with a second gig this weekend. (Goran from Toxicrose is around, though, off stage and on stage, obviously enjoying the show and getting drunk with mates.) I run into photographer Mandy Privenau and we have a little chat, comparing previous Trash Fests. I am surprised to learn that it is indeed cold right in front of the stage, a place where, during a concert, it should be hot and sweaty, but obviously the Gloria guys have invested in some serious air conditioning. They probably also invested in some serious new sound equipment, or maybe it’s just a new technician – the sound is a lot clearer, brighter and overall better than it used to be. In the meantime, AJ is trying to get the temperature up in the front rows: “Come over, make it an intimate night!” Which is, of course, only the introduction to the eponymous song. Tonight, it’s a bit more difficult for NGS to shine, simply because Latexxx Teens are a tough act to follow, being meaner and darker, compared to the more good natured punk fun of the Superstars. But when “Hell City” comes on, a track from the new album “Rock’n’Roll Or Die”, the crowd take it as the perfect hymn to their Trash Fest hometown, and all hands are up in the air. All hell breaks loose indeed when another small all stars moment approaches and NGS are joined by Latexxx Teens, Joni from Dusty Road and Goran from Toxicrose for yet another stomping rendition of “Blitzkrieg Bop”, leaving the well-worn shouter “Guess What” for the finale.

Headliners tonight are Private Line, Helsinki’s finest and Mama Trash’s “house band”, as guitarist Jack Smack points out once they’ve entered the stage to the doom-laden sounds of Ennio Morricone’s “Once Upon A Time In The West”. They have played each and every Trash Fest so far and their melodic sleaze rock is certainly one of the main attractions for the fans from overseas, as the raised hands and loud applause unmistakably show. It’s a delight to hear them again with full force after watching a number of acoustic shows over the past year, as good as those have been. Private Line’s music is meant to be played loud, with proper screaming guitars and booming drums, not to forget Sammy Aaltonen’s bright, piercing vocals. And they are in good form tonight, especially the two guitarists Ilari Heinäaho and Jack Smack. As usual, it’s Jack who conveys the classic rock’n’roll idea of mystery and image, even though he is all in white today apart from his trademark black hat over the trademark long black hair, but Ilari, in t-shirt and jeans, unleashes just the same tuneful energy. Still, the one who really commands the stage is Sammy, the ultimate front man, long blond hair and killer smile for the “How are you doing, Helsinki” moments.

Their set is a best of compilation of their three albums – from “Dead Decade” and “Prozac Nation” to their early signature tune “1-800 Out Of Nowhere”, supplemented by all the epic rock songs like “Billion Star Hotel” or “Broken Promised Land”. It doesn’t take much to have the crowd clapping along to “Uniform” or joining in for the wistful chorus of “Live, Learn And Grow Apart”.

[Sammy Aaltonen, introducing the band: "What do you want me to call you tonight?" - Jack Smack: "I don't care."]

And in contrast to the other bands this evening, the headliners get the chance to come out again for an encore, the abrasive “Evel Knievel Factor” with its “hey-hey-hey-hey” and “whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa” call-and-response between band and audience, a final moment of communion before the house lights come up and the show is over – at least for tonight.

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Before the story continues in Part 3, Fantasmusica would like to thank Karen Davidson for much needed background information and proof-reading.

[fantasmusica]

In Trash We Trust - Part 1: Trash Fest VI Kick-Off

It is a weird phenomenon, hundreds of kindred spirits from all over Europe and the US reuniting once a year in Helsinki to “make some fucking noise”, as almost every band appearing on stage here will demand at some point of their set. Trash Fest, a four day extravaganza of hard and loud music now running for the sixth time, is the brainchild of Mama Trash, a boisterous music promoter from Philadelphia, who will explain to me later that it all started with a concert a few musician friends organised for her when she came to Helsinki on holiday in 2007. “350 people showed up, with no promotion at all, and from that came the idea of doing a festival. And Jyrki 69 went: Call it Trash Fest! It kept growing and growing and growing since then.”

And now, six years later, it still feels like a family gathering. Many of the bands are regulars, just as the audience, which consists to a great deal of Germans, Swedes, Italians and Russians, plus a few Americans from Mama Trash’s entourage, with all the fans from abroad clearly outnumbering the Finns. And yet, the event feels explicitly Finnish in its down-to-earth friendliness – not just because every second member of the audience clutches a glass of the famous Finnish gin-grapefruit long drink, the so-called lonkero. Most of the bands will mingle with the crowd once their set is over, and you stand a good chance of bumping into Chri$ Wicked from Malice In Wonderland on the way outside for a smoke or of standing right beside AJ from New Generation Superstars in the upstairs foyer bar. It is this sense of camaraderie that makes Trash Fest so special – the Mama Trash All Star jam session taking place at the end of the nights is testament to that.

How did the Trash Fest concept develop?

“I had been promoting bands for four years just for fun and I was working with Trashlight Vision, the band of Acey Slade, who was my best friend at this point. I went on tour with them in the UK, and fans started calling me Mama Trash, because I had quite a maternal nature with the bands. In London I met Jyrki from 69 Eyes. I liked their music; we became friends and worked together for six years. Then I had five or six other bands from Finland and Sweden, like Private Line, Stereo Junks or Sexydeath. Private Line played every single show from 2007 until now. Sammy and I just found each other on Myspace at the time. Him, Anzi from Stereo Junks, Henry Lee Roots from Sonic Roots and Alex from Sexydeath – those were probably the four Trash Fest originals.”

– Mama Trash

This year, Trashfest starts with a kick-off party at the On The Rocks, a basement club near the magnificent Helsinki railway station. A glass of beer or lonkero comes up to 6.10 Euros here – it’s certainly damn expensive to get plastered in Finland, but it’s also damn fun. By the time we show up, Dusty Roads from Finland have almost finished their set, and the local lads from Cold Cold Ground, a lot with white facepaint and the corresponding new metal and industrial sound, enter the stage, appropriately asking: “Are you drunk yet?” In spite of being asked to clap and join the fun, the audience stays quite reluctant at first, rather reading their facebook entries than watching what happens on stage. It’s not the most inspired music, even though the drummer shows a few tricks with his sticks, but energy and loudness don’t make up for ideas. Their set is getting more melodic and punk, though the death metal drums still aim for speed.

To the sound of the old classic “16 Tons”, New Generation Superstars go onstage, and now it’s time for punk and fun and rock’n’roll. NGS have been described as being “too punk for the rock crowd and too rock for the punk crowd”, and that is a pretty accurate description of their sound, borrowing from The Lords Of The New Church or the Backyard Babies just as much as from The Damned or even The Stooges. They don’t need to ask the audience to join the fun – with so much fun around, people simply do. The aptly titled “One More Drink Then It’s Time To Go” signals that we’re coming to the end of their set, which closes with a rousing “Hey ho, let’s go” – the old Ramones classic “Blitzkrieg Bop.”

The Fallen from York in Britain are next – posers, compared to the sweaty, tattooed rough boys from NGS. Carefully, some screens and more lights are set up on stage, and when the band comes on, the perfectly choreographed turn to face the audience and the in sync headbanging are a bit too much. It would be okay if there was at least a slight twinkle in their eyes but they take themselves dead seriously, thus spoiling the fun a bit. Considering that beer and lonkero are still 6.10 Euros, we decide to make it an early night. After all, there will be more fun in the days to come.

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Before the story continues in Part 2, Fantasmusica would like to thank Karen Davidson for much needed background information and proof-reading.

[fantasmusica]

Wild Geese versus Black Swans, or: How everything relates to everything with Private Line

It feels a bit like a wild goose chase to get an interview with Private Line. The first date we agreed on falls through and so does the second, one day later, but hey – it’s Trash Fest time in Helsinki with enough other things to enjoy while waiting for a chance to talk. Private Line are headlining Trash Fest Friday and pull off a splendid set. Saturday goes by without a word (but with lots of delightful noise by fellow trashers such as Malice In Wonderland, States Of Panic and Lord Of The Lost), and on Sunday, Trash Fest VI ends with acoustic sets from some of the participating artists, with Private Line headlining again. “Someone in here who hasn’t got a hangover?” asks guitarist Jack Smack. It has been a great weekend, no doubt about that.

Playing acoustic comes easy to singer Sammy Aaltonen and guitarists Jack and Ilari Heinäaho; the three of them have been doing acoustic shows all year, and the atmosphere is vibrant and relaxed. I have been at some of these gigs, most recently at the show they played in their hometown Jyväskylä in July, but the quality of the songwriting, laid bare by the acoustic arrangements, impresses me every time. This afternoon is no exception – it’s a great collection of songs, ranging from emotional ballads such as “Grown Like Others” and “Billion Star Hotel” to heavier tracks like “Evel Knievel Factor” or “Black Swan”, reaching out to everyone on the benches and chairs that have been brought down to the floor of Helsinki’s Gloria Theatre.

It has been some time since I was backstage in a band’s dressing room – it must have been before smoking was outlawed in public buildings, because the labyrinthine insides of the Gloria lack the typical smell of stale beer and cold tobacco I used to associate with backstage areas. At least it is as messy as it should be, with guitars and other bits and pieces of equipment lying scattered around. Sammy and Jack are already waiting and courteously introduce themselves when I come in; while Ilari, Jack and I take place at a table, Sammy reclines on a sofa a few steps away. This doesn’t keep him from running the conversation, as it turns out when we start talking about the early days of Private Line. After all, it was him who started the band in 1996, teaming up with drummer Eliaz back in Jyväskylä in Central Finland, before moving to Helsinki a few years later, where Ilari and bassist Spit, two other exiles from Jyväskylä, joined. Asked about the early influences, Sammy explains:

“We were pretty much into street rock and punk at the time, since we all grew up with that kind of music. But we were also keen to add more to that, we didn’t just want to do that kind of music all over again.”

Jack, who is smoking one of these e-cigarettes, chips in: “I think there was also an industrial element when we started with this line-up. Of course it was a mixture of 80s rock and 90s grunge style … when you listen to 21st Century Pirates, our first album, you find quite a lot of industrial elements in there. Our music has changed a little bit since then, but I think it just sounds like Private Line. There’s punk and metal and pop and rock and everything. But I don’t like to talk in genres.”

Their most recent work, Dead Decade from 2011, sounds a lot darker than the first two albums, and there is also a dark streak in the lyrics. How did that come about?

Sammy: “Because it was a dark time for us.” Smiling, he continues: “I don’t know. It just felt good for us to make it that way. We noticed that it all went a bit darker when we wrote the first few songs for the album, and we used more organic sounds, like strings – violins and cellos and stuff, while the other two albums were more synthetic. Maybe that’s another reason why it sounds more melancholic.”

Still, it is not just the sound that is responsible for the dark edge; Dead Decade also has a strong political message, from the environmental issues addressed in the title track to the topic of human greed in “Deathroll Casino”. Do you all agree when it comes to politics?

Sammy tries to slip off the hook. “Is ‘Dead Decade’ really political? – I guess so, but it is also about culture, about how we see the world now. We definitely have many different opinions about many things.”

Jack: “And then we start to fight. But I think you can find many levels within this song. You can read it as a political song, as a song about the environment or as a song about a relationship. It’s good that people get different kinds of images from the lyrics. The album was scheduled to be released first in Japan in spring 2011, and then the accident in Fukushima happened a few weeks before that. At first we felt like we couldn’t go on with the release because of the Dead Decade theme … but the Japanese people understood what it was all about and didn’t hate us. The Fukushima thing is also in the video. It just fitted into the time.”

Since you say you fight a lot when it comes to politics in the songs, do you also have a lot of discussions about the songwriting as such? How do you usually proceed in the studio?

Sammy: “The idea we start with might come from anybody. But to finish a song you need a topic, a theme – you need to know what it is about.” He trails off: “Sometimes there is too much … I don’t know … I am kind of neurotic sometimes, I need to have a vision for a song before I can write …”

Jack: “Sometimes we have to kick your ass: Finish the fucking lyrics!” Laughter all around.

Sammy: “But it starts with everybody bringing ideas in. It’s not always me. I have to sing it, so the melodies are mainly by me. But Eliaz, Jack, Spit, Ilari – they all come up with ideas. It would be easier if there was someone who came in with the songs. But I think this is why we sound like we do. We wouldn’t sound like this if the songs were only written by one guy. We have been playing together so long now that we know the strengths of everyone.”

Since you don’t work with a producer from outside, who has the last word in the studio?

Sammy: “I think I am the guy. I’ve been working in the studio so much. Someone has to have the final word. But it’s not like we don’t want someone from outside, it also has financial reasons. We always want to have the best at first and then it turns out that the best is also the most expensive.”

Jack: “On the first two albums, we had co-producers like Petri Majuri and ideas came out of that, too, but you know – everything goes through Sammy’s head. – Of course we try to affect Sammy’s opinion.”

Sammy: “I’m not always the one to say no, but if I have a strong vision then I will fight for it. And yes, I have the final word. But many times, they change my mind.”

Is that a difficult thing to do? – Jack and Ilari exchange glances.

Ilari: “Sometimes. You need a bit of tactic.”

Jack: “When he goes to the toilet, we have our hand at Protools.”

Since their second album Evel Knievel Factor, the band has been collaborating with the American author and lyricist Rory Winston.

Sammy: “When we wrote Evel Knievel Factor, some of the songs were not finished when we went into the studio. Rory was a friend of a friend of mine, and I asked him to check some lines to make sure it was correct English. Then I found I liked his style and I asked him to contribute some more; I had some raw sketches, and we worked on them together. It’s always hard, you know, English is not my mother language, and if you want to express things that go deeper, you need the right words for that. – I never wrote a lot in Finnish, English was always my natural language for music. I guess I just wanted to take our songs to another level and I needed some help for that.”

Where do the ideas for the lyrics generally come from?

Sammy: “Sometimes you find something really catchy in a book or in a film, sometimes you see some punch line somewhere and you take it, put it in a different context and it starts its own life. Take ‘Black Swan’ for instance – it hadn’t anything to do with the movie, it was from a book about mathematical theories. It’s called Black Swan theory and I applied it to relationships.”

Jack seems to hear this for the first time: “What’s the theory? I didn’t know about this!”

Sammy: “I have a whole book about it …”

Jack: “Just tell me in a nutshell, what’s the theory?”

Sammy sits up and moves closer to the table: “It’s really hard to describe, but let’s say, you have two geese and a butcher who takes their lives, and it’s a different experience for the geese than it is for the butcher. The theory is really deep but this is the gist of it. It’s also a theory which says that everything affects everything. It’s by a guy called Nassim Taleb. You can google it.”

Jack: “Okay.”

Sammy: “I won’t say I completely got all of it, but what I did understand was that in the end it is really relationship-orientated. And it was only later that I found out that there is a ballet movie of the same name, but the song has nothing to do with that.”

A song that intrigued me quite a lot, lyric-wise, was “Meltdown Town”. To me, it seemed to be about going back to your hometown and realising how much people have changed …

Sammy: “Yes! It’s a modern set of Bruce Springsteen lyrics. He writes a lot of these hometown lyrics. Actually, I was listening to his music a lot even though you don’t hear that on the album. Actually, we also recorded …”

Jack continues: “‘Dancing In The Dark’. But we haven’t released it yet.”

Sammy: “I really like his style, the feel he has about places. I can relate to that because I grew up in Jyväskylä and don’t want to go back. It is always very moody. Two days is good, three days … well. Something happens and I find it really stressful.”

Jack: “It is our second hometown, though.” A remark that perfectly shows how much Private Line feel at home in the Finnish capital.

Sammy: “Yeah, but there is always this weird feeling that when we go there, like everything changes. We have been away for a very long time.”

Do you have class reunions in Finland?

Sammy: “I think there is something like that but I haven’t been to one.”

Somehow it’s a funny thing, you’re all from Jyväskylä but the present line-up didn’t come together back there …

Sammy: “Oh, we all knew each other, apart from Japa, whom we had also met but just didn’t know very well.”

Jack nods: “We first met in the Bar 68 in Lutakko, which used to be called Bar Luolamies.” He translates the name for me with visible glee: “Bar Caveman. – When I joined the band in Helsinki, it was like … I first met Eliaz in a bar and he told me they needed a guitar player because their guy had left. I was totally wasted and went, like, yeah, of course I come and play. Then you called me.” He nods over to Sammy. “And for a couple weeks it was like …” Jack affects a slow, contemplative voice: “Is he suitable for the band?” Sammy and Ilari start laughing. “Actually, at my first show with Private Line, I pushed a button on stage which started the intro tape.” More laughter.

So what was your first impression of the band?

Jack: Well, I’ve seen Private Line without me in Helsinki a couple of times. I liked the band.”

By now, the interview has turned into a relaxed chat, the right time for asking about the more unusual news I recently read about Private Line. Is it true that you appeared on Big Brother?

Sammy: “Yeah, some promoter asked us whether we would like to come and play some songs, and we said, why not, the studio is close by …”

Ilari: “It was weird.”

But you didn’t have to live on the compound for three days or something like that in order to perform?

Sammy: “No, we weren’t even allowed to talk to the participants, we just went there and played for half an hour or so. It was weird. The audience consisted just of a couple of guys.”

Ilari: “There were about ten people or so, maybe not even that much.”

Did you get any feedback yet?

Sammy: “Not that much – but they tell you before that they never know how many people will watch. But sometimes, when I switch the TV on in the evening, I see someone wearing one of the Private Line t-shirts we left there.”

Jack: “Oh, really? I don’t have a TV so I don’t watch this. But hey, it’s promotion.”

Let’s get back to the more serious gigs. You’ve been playing in Germany quite a number of times now and will return again in November for a couple of shows. What’s your impression of the country?

Sammy: “Everything works! It’s the opposite of Italy!”

Jack: “Yes, it’s not quite Japan but …”

Sammy: “It is really nice to play there, because when someone says, it goes like this and this, then it does.”

Jack: “I was in Germany for the first time when I was one year old. In München. Now I also go to Hamburg and Mainz …”

Mainz? Why Mainz?

Jack: “My cousin lives there, she’s half Finnish and half German, so I’ve been there many times. Also of course with Private Line. Nice country. Good audiences.”

Sammy: “For us, it is also a good option because Finland is so small. In Germany, there are a lot more people, so you have the chance to play more often and in bigger towns. In Finland, there are about four cities where we can play.”

Jack: “And the bars are open all the time and there’s good beer!”

Sammy: “Yes, that’s the main thing!”

Apart from visits to Germany, Private Line have been playing in many different countries. When I mention the China tour they embarked on in 2011, it seems to spark off a firework of memories.

Ilari: “We could write a small book about the China tour.”

Jack: “We left our sound engineer outside a hotel in Shanghai … maybe that’s not a good story …”

Sammy: “We also travelled with this bullet train …“

Jack: “… which crashed two weeks later …”

Sammy: “… from Shanghai to Beijing, and it takes only something like six hours …”

Ilari: “… even less …”

Sammy: “… and this is 1200 kilometres but it only needs five hours. You sit in there and it goes faster and faster and faster and it’s like a fucking rollercoaster!”

Jack: “I took a picture of the display that tells you how fast it goes and said 400 kilometres per hour … When it crashed two weeks later, we were in Philadelphia and read about it in a Finnish magazine on the web, and they said: According to Chinese information these trains go 250 km in an hour. I thought, hello, I have a photo of them going fucking 400! Liars!”

Sammy: “It was said there were just 30 casualties, but it crashed with another train at 400 km/h and there must have been a lot more than that. It must have been a terrible mess, but the Chinese government is always trying to hush things up.”

Ilari: “It’s the same with the weather. Before we went to Shanghai, the weather forecast said we were going to get 35 degrees. I was a bit suspicious because they said that about every place. When we were there, we had like 43 degrees … too hot, anyway …”

Jack: “… I think it must have been 50 …”

Ilari: “I asked a local guy about the fact that the forecast had it so drastically wrong, and he said: Right now, we have 35 degrees, even if the thermometer tells you something different. Because we have the law that you don’t have to go to work when it’s hotter! It’s never going to be hotter in China than 35 degrees.”

Sammy: “The bullet trains were a real challenge. They only stop for about one minute in the station. We had so much gear, instruments and everything, but we really got quite good getting all our stuff and eleven people out of the trains one minute.”

Jack: “We also learned how to smoke a cigarette in one minute.”

Sammy: “It was really hot there, but even with the pollution, I felt much better there than in Philadelphia where we went right afterwards. They also had a heat wave there and it was like stepping into a grill, it was so dry. In China the air was quite humid.”

Jack: “Yes, and on the second day we were there I got bad sunburn because there was no smog and it was so hot.”

They carry on with their good-natured banter, when I ask about the side projects they have apart from Private Line. Sammy is working as an engineer and producer at East Sound Studios, Jack is busy with a handful of bands, most importantly Noir Brigade, while Ilari also plays swing jazz. Does their other work spill over into Private Line? There were some jazzy elements in Ilari’s playing during the acoustic set …

Ilari: “Yes, we can use it for the acoustic shows but not for the whole band.”

Jack, in a conspiratorial whisper: “Not yet!”

Ilari: “Who knows, one day …”

Sammy, with a mischievous grin: “Private Line goes swiiiing!”

Jack flicks his fingers and swing indeed: “The E-vel Knie-vel fac-tooor …” Then, sobering up again: “My side projects are more like basic rock, punk rock. That’s something that I bring all the time into Private Line.”

Jack has just released the songs that were recorded with The Salvation, a band he formed three years ago with Anzi Destruction from Stereo Junks and Sir Christus from Negative.

Jack: “Yes, we released that on iTunes. It was recorded in summer 2010. The band was total Spinal Tap. It wasn’t supposed to be this way but it was the same tough period in which we made the Dead Decade album. I got really frustrated about everything, I went through a divorce and had a nervous breakdown, the drummer almost died two times during the nine months we were together, the singer married a playboy star … A fun time. A lot of things happened.”

The internet grapevine has it that Private Line has also been in the studio, working on new songs. Is there a new album in the making?

Sammy: “We recorded some tracks in July, but they’re not finished yet …”

Jack: “It’s the classic story: When is the next album coming out?” He puts on a quizzical face. “Next year? Or …. nnnnnext year?”

Indeed, Private Line have something of a track record for letting fans wait. After Evel Knievel Factor came out in 2006, five long years went by until the follow-up was released.

Sammy is quite aware of this: “We are more together this time and I think we will continue really soon. We started with the song ideas that we already had and we recorded some sketches, but I think I would like us to play together a lot more. Most of Dead Decade was constructed in the studio. Now I want the five of us to play together, before we make a final decision.”

Jack: “We have quite a lot of ideas and basic elements for the songs but you never know how it will develop. And it’s always like this with Private Line, if we tell you now we’re going to make a classical album, we might come up with a Death Metal album.”

Let’s hope it won’t be another five years until we find out.

  For a German version of this interview, visit

http://www.terrorverlag.com/interviews/private-line/

[fantasmusica]

It's a rather demystifying experience to re-watch old music programmes you used to love as a child. Like Germany's "Disco '71". Okay, I don't think I ever watched the '71 edition, I think I started with '75 or '76, when the Bay City Rollers, The Sweet and Smokie were likely to be in it, and I always made sure I was at my grandmother's house when it came on. She already had a colour tv, and Rod Stewart crooning "Sailing" looked way better with real blue eyeshadow and pink trousers than in black and white.

                                I always remembered the show to be brimming over with the top stars of the day and mercifully forgot the one hit wonders and the trite prefabricated pop that marred the pop scene of 1971 just as much as they infest the charts of today. Disco '71 was a mix of fake live pop tunes and the worst and most embarrassing sketches on earth, upgraded by one licensed star appearance from Britain's Top Of The Pops and a news section from Europe's pop capital London. The show I watched the other day had Status Quo, Middle Of The Road and Mungo Jerry and an unbelievable guy called J. Bastos in it, who shook his mike like a maraca and forgot to act like he was singing; probably the lyrics of "Loop di love" had clogged his brain.

But if there were also real gems to be discovered. Like The Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again" from Top Of The Pops and an introduction to Britain's up and coming Boogie sensation T. Rex - a short interview with a delightfully shy and serious Bolan and a few licks of "Hot Love" and "Get It On". Who knows, if I had watched this when it was originally aired, maybe my complicated relationship with Marc Bolan (see older post "20th Century boys. Or girls") would have turned out different.

[fantasmusica]

I have been in love with this song from the start, since I first heard the dreamy guitar softly touching the mellow keyboards. The image of the closing curtains fits the whole scene beautifully. Yes, the arrangement might have more than a touch of The Cure's Disintegration, but with Jann Wilde's distanced vocals, it's playing in a league of its own. It's out on The Saturnettes' bandcamp site, too, as a b-side of the deceivingly power-poppy rocker "Just Because", and would deserve half a million downloads. Minimum.

[fantasmusica]

And here it is, the second single from The Saturnettes' upcoming album The Saturnettes 2. Complete with a brand new video of course. And a b-side that will make all Cure fans happy again (more about that in another entry). Both tracks can be listened to and downloaded at The Saturnettes' bandcamp site - check 'emout ...

[fantasmusica]

It might just be because of the lamp.

Three days ago, The Saturnettes released the first single from their upcoming second album, a merry little tune called "Bob From The Cure". It is actually not about a certain Mr. Smith, but rather about a guy who is told he looks like him. Which he does indeed, as he proves in the accompanying video - with the help of some kohl, lipstick and hairspray.

But there is more than a bit of make-up to the clip - for instance, it features a cameo of a certain luminary that was last seen in 1979. Check for yourself.

This was then ...

... when it was depicting one of three imaginary boys.

After retreating from showbiz for 34 years, Saturnettes' singer and songwriter Jann Wilde managed to coax it out of hiding. The hairstyle has changed a little, but in essence, it's still the same.

Maybe it's down to this old acquaintance that Bob has managed to collect more than 1300 clicks on Youtube in less than three days, which is more than well-deserved. You can listen and download "Bob From The Cure" at Bandcamp, too.

Considering the Saturnettes are still my favourite band, I should be floating in space with them again. The reason I'm not busy yet with filing questions and sending them off to Finland is simply that, since our last interview took place in November 2011, I have been contributing lyrics to Jann Wilde's thrilling new songs for The Saturnettes II, and it would be a bit shady to play the objective journalist this time, as much as I would still like to pretend I am and write 5/5 reviews about the record by the truckload.

Sod objectivity. "Bob From The Cure" is a fantastic song, and let me tell you, there are even better tracks to come, once the album is out. Be prepared for perfect postpunk synth hymns and pop melodies with lots of stunning stories about flesh and chrome.

The Saturnettes are on their way. "It's gonna happen some day." Indeed.