JAMES : TWENTY FOUR HOUR PARTY PEOPLE INTERVIEW WITH JIM AND LARRY
Jim : Tony
Larry : A Maverick
Jim : Yeah yeah, a big personality
Larry : A Manchester maverick
Jim : You know, did a lot for us. Could be a pain in the arse. I'd hate to work
with the bloke full-time. I mean he'd drive you round the bleeding bend. So over
the top, I mean completely over the top. But a heart of gold. And loved James
and said some great fantastic things in the press, I mean he compared us to the
1974 Dutch football team. In that they had this kind of natural grace in the way
they played football and he compared us musically to them and it was the nicest
thing anyone's ever said to us.
Larry : An unforced natural grace.
Jim : Yeah yeah.
Jim : We were just pains in the arse. We wanted to design the sleeves, don't
like your sleeves, don't like all this cool stuff, we're going to design it. So
we did, I did, this horrible kind of felt-tipped cover and we took it in and
Tony was like "Oh, you want something like this" and we were like "No, we want
that" And he was interviewed for the James book, Tony Wilson was, and his
interpretation of the events was that he thought it was a great idea but at the
time he didn't. He's lying, he was lying. He didn't. He hated it.
Jim : They were so nice. They really were. We should have stayed with Factory,
that's one thing we all regretted, that we didn't do an album with them. We just
thought, we did bump into problems with them that were justified I think. They
didn't promote anything, because they didn't need to initially. There was all
the cool image with it that sold itself, with Factory. Loads of people would go
out and buy the new releases regardless and that kind of shifted, that emphasis
moved slightly and we suffered. We got to this point where we were in this sort
of no man's land where our records weren't getting in the stores but they
weren't promoting them, they were "we don't do adverts, we don't do blah blah
blah" so we were like "Yeah, but come on"
Larry : They thought that if a record was good, it would sell itself and their
argument for that was New Order. You know, the New Order records, they didn't
have to take out massive advertising campaigns or do loads of massive promotion.
It just had its own natural momentum which was fine if you'd come from Joy
Division and the lead singer had died and you'd built up this entire cult, but
for a new band, that noone had ever heard of, they didn't see they had any
commitment to undertake any kind of commitment to advertising and we had to
argue with them about that and their distribution wasn't very good at the time
so that's why we started to have these reservations.
Larry : Their ethos and their idea wasa little too generous and a little
shortsighted, that they didn't get business savvy until it was too late. That,
as in their idea that if the music is good enough, it will sell itself. If the
idea is true enough and substantial, if it's substantial and it's true, it will
work. Then it'll work almost without any looking after, without any guidance,
because it's a good idea and it's fair and it's not what everyone else is doing.
It's different, it's unique, so it'll have its own momentum. And I think they
found out too late, as they were sinking, as they owed more and more money. I
mean the biggest debtor really was New Order. That's where the twist came - New
Order were the most successful band therefore they owed New Order money whereas
all the other bands never actually reached that point of breaking even so that
they owed them money. And they didn't have the cash to pay their debt to New
Order so New Order became bigger and bigger owners of the Hacienda, they got
bigger and bigger shares. They should have seen it then, but I don't think they
did and they couldn't, by the end they couldn't turn it round.
Jim : Why Manchester? Why is Manchester special in that respect? No other city
in the world could you give a list of bands from it. I don't know why that is. I
think it's easy to look at like second cities and go, you know, you have the
capital and the second city, and this is where everyone is trying a little bit
harder and pushing a bit and left to their own devices as well to some degree. I
think that's probably why things happened like what happened in the 80s when
Manchester was left, well the bands were left, to find their own sound and
develop. The A+R were just too lazy to come here so bands arrived on the scene
that had played a lot that had got a lot of songs, that were good and the
spotlight was shone on them all at the same time and you got what was called a
scene even though the bands hadn't just arrived at the same time, they'd been
playing around for a lot of years.
Larry : We didn't go there that much, did we?
Jim : No, no
Larry : We weren't the 24 hour party people
Jim : We'd hit that monastic streak by then hadn't we really?
Larry : Yeah, yeah.
Jim : It was hilarious
Larry : No they supported us.
Jim : That was hilarious.
Larry : They missed the first gig.
Jim : It was cartoon. We played the Ritz in Manchester, they played the first
night, we played the Ritz and they were there all right and the next morning
they couldn't find Shaun and we were supposed to be, we were playing Newcastle
and they were meant to be supporting us and they couldn't find Shaun and they
had to drive around for like three hours until they eventually found him and
dragged him in the van and sped off and of course they were late, they crashed
the van on the way to the gig. Turns up at Newcastle, starts unloading the gear
out of the van and this bloke says "Oh, what you're doing." "We're the Happy
Mondays, supporting James." He said "This is a Simply Red gig, you're at the
wrong venue." So they got back in the van, turned up at our gig, they'd missed
their slot and we were just about to go on stage at this point and they piled
out of the van and they were backstage, effing and jeffing, and blaming each
other for it, and this, that and the other. And it was just like "Oh God, what
have we done, what have we done"
Larry : They were a complete and utter shambles weren't they?
Jim : They were.
Larry : But they were so apologetic.
Jim : They were lovely. They really were lovely. They were cartoons. They were
It was "What's happened today with the Mondays. Is everybody here? Just about.
It really was" They were funny.
Larry : It really was, it was like having your own daily copy of Viz.
Jim : Yes it was.
Larry : It really was. You didn't know
Jim : They lost the tour support didn't they? They "lost" the tour support.
Larry : One night we came off stage, got backstage and went to the dressing room
and went in the dressing room, no beer, everything had gone. All our clothes and
money were still there and everything, but the entire rider, all the food.
Jim : We knew they had a party in Manchester and we were wondering (rubs chin) "
I wonder who's done this then." There were security on the door, they must have
got in through the window, the door was locked and they had no idea what was
going on.
Larry : They completely cleaned us out and the next day they were really sweet
and apologetic.
Jim : Didn't give it us back like.
Larry : They had this really banging party so they left as soon as they got off
stage, nicked all our beer, and sodded off back to Manchester for the party.
Jim : But they were great as well as a band. They were brilliant, we used to go
out and watch them every night and they were wonderful.
JAMES : D.I.V.O.R.C.E
- Q ARTICLE / REVIEW 1.02
Brighton Centre, 2 December 2001
"I'm very tense. I nearly started crying a few times on a few songs tonight. Suddenly you can feel all this emotion coming at you. It's lovely, it's really beautiful," states Tim Booth, now a model of quiet, centred calm.
It's midnight, backstage on a dank Sunday by the sea and there's a good reason for Booth getting moisty-eyed. After the best part of 20 years being loosely joined at the hip, he and the band he has fronted through lean times and prosperity will soon be going their separate ways. Before they do, however, there's the small matter of one final UK arena tour to be negotiated, starting here in Sussex.
The intent seems plain - to turn this final curtain call into a joyful valediction of this most dogged, cussed, and yes, underrated of British musical institutions; one whose Best Of collection rather unexpectedly found its way into 800,000 homes just three years back.
"I don't have any regrets. I really feel fulfilled," says Booth when asked about what he'll miss. "It's been an amazing ride, but I don't know about missing things. I don't want to sound like I'm putting the whole thing down. I'm not. It just feels like I've done it.
"Who knows, in a year from now I might well be thinking, Shit I really miss it. I love a great gig, even if I do get fucking terrified before nearly every concert. I go through the wringer. Don't know why I do it. Can't seem to stop it, even after 20 years. I love it when I'm onstage, hate it before. There's such a huge responsibility to make it work."
As to the future, Booth says he has completed his first screenplay ("I've always been terrified of writing more than a three-minute song. It felt like a journey across a desert"), fancies doing a bit more acting and reckons there will be "some different" music out next year. More than anything, it seems, he wants to try some other stuff: "It just feels like I had to make that break. The other guys have known that for the past couple of years. They've always been very patient and supportive. Like when I made the Badalamenti record. It kind of kicked up some of James timing in the States. I felt bad about asking people to wait for me to go off and do other things. So part of it was, Well, I think it's fair to do a clean break."
Somehow, fully in keeping with the underdog spirit that has kept them going when others would have chucked in the towel, the band's six remaining members appear determined to carry on without their prized asset, the one who some folk think of as actually being James. Publically, at least, bass-playing Jim Glennie, who's been there right from day one - is putting on a bullish face.
"I've got to be diplomatic here," he explains. "There's still a lot of indecision in the James camp. This was thrust upon us and we're still juggling with what we want to do, what the options are. We don't need to rush into anything, but there will be a James beyond this point. Speaking for myself, I feel really enthused by this. It feels exciting. It feels like a challenge. It was scary initially and mildly depressing. Now I feel like it's what I need to do, what I should be doing.
"For me, James will go away and it will change into something else and it will reappear. And when it does, it will be great."
The Brighton Centre is packed out with those wanting to say their fond farewells, and, for a couple of hours, take shelter in the warm nostalgic glow of the past.
"Let's see what we can do," announces Booth coyly to huge cheers before launching into Say Something with its janglesome guitars and glorious chorus filling every corner of the hall. With the crowd expertly joining in, the sense of joy and release, both onstage and off, is undeniable; the urgent Sometimes and Laid's up-front amatory declaration - "This bed is on fire with passionate love" - further confirming that, live, James have rarely sounded better. A band capable of both power and the most delicate of touches, it's not hard to figure why Glennie is reluctant just to let things go.
It's Booth, though, who's the focus for everything, the possessor of that slippery thing - star quality. One moment he's doing his snake-dance routine around an unsuspecting mic stand. The next he's being crucified on an invisible cross or whirling dervishly. And when he's not having his limbs yanked in all directions by a malicious, unseen puppeteer, he's still rather partial to going surfing on a sea of raised arms. There's even a fair bit of singing too, sometimes with all the purity of an apple-cheeked schoolboy.
The spell is briefly broken by Senorita and English Beefcake from the most recent album, Pleased To Meet You. But seeing how few have bought the record, maybe it's no real surprise that nobody cares about them too much. Still, the equally fresh Getting Away With It (All Messed Up) motors along mightily in a way that Giorgio Moroder would recognise and the ever-fabulous She's A Star puts them right back on track.
After that it's a doddle. Vervaceous ("Another musical one," according to Booth) builds incessantly into a mesmerising psychedelic swirl; Johnny Yen proudly flaunts its indie birth-right with one-time member Andy Diagram having fun with his trumpet, and Born of Frustration has just about everything anyone could ever wish for in a humble pop song. To nobody's great surprise, the square peg's favourite anthem, Sit Down, signals goodnight and thanks for the memories.
"I'm really glad that we're ending it like this - with grace and as a celebration, not in some bitter way," says Tim Booth afterwards.
But for Glennie and the others it's a case of picking themselves up, dusting off and starting again with another vocalist. Probably.
"I know how some people identify with Tim," he admits. "But if we're ever going to play live again we need a permanent singer. When the right person turns up and they start flying across the improvisation we're doing and you know the song is complete at that point, then they've got the job. Then we take it to the world. And if nobody likes it (shrugs shoulders), then nobody fucking likes it. That's life.
"This band has never sold as many records as it should have. That's why I'm so excited, why I want to do this. I want to have a go. I might fail. It might be shit. It might be bollocks. I might be talking out of me arse. I don't know."
Well, we'll find out, won't we?
"Exactly."
Ladies and Gentlemen, James are still inside the building.