Henry Rollins interview for Insight

Hipster HC, whatever: interviewing your hero and him turning out to be an incredibly cool guy is one of the real joys of the game. Seriously people, if you haven't read Get In The Van, you totally should. Here's Hank making my week in July '08:

Henry Rollins is culture’s Kurtz, our Hemingway and your favourite uncle. A DIY punk with guts of steel, he’s also written one of the most moving memoirs about music (or anything) that I’ve ever read, Get In The Van, the exhilarating and gutwrenching story of his own private 1980s. He cut his teeth as lead singer of early eighties Californian punk crew Black Flag, the band that inked a thousand tattoos, sold a million six-packs and sent trillions of kids down the road to Do It Themselves. Aside from fronting the greatest hardcore punk band of all time, he’s also a renowned author, publisher, comedian, broadcaster and human rights advocate. The guy’s led what you could call an interesting life, and for one so famed for his no-guts-no-glory mindset, he came across articulate, sensitive and really, really fun. Basically, if there’s one person to spend an hour and a half listening to, it’s Hank. We called him up in Bangkok, and you really should go and see him this month.

Hi Henry!
Hi Charlie, how’s it going? I’m sorry this is late – I had an interview earlier and it overran, but thank you for ringing back and holding on. I admire your tenacity.

OK, no problem. Do you want me to call back later, or…
Let’s do this now: where I’m going this afternoon is ultra remote – no phones, no email, no electricity. So it has to be now. Let’s go for it now, and step on the other guy’s toes. Is that good with you?

Oh cool, yeah. So what are you doing out there anyway?
I’m going on a mission this afternoon that’s classified. I’ve been sworn to secrecy by the people with me, and I can’t tell a soul about where I’m going until afterwards. But believe me, you’ll hear in time!

Right! So tell me about the spoken word tour.
I’ve been on tour since September last year, and it’s a record of where I’ve been and what I’m doing and what I saw. Because of how it develops, the first 20 shows are never like the last 20 shows, because so much shit has happened in between. It’s been nearly a year, and I’ve done some pretty interesting stuff in that time, like going to Syria, Lebanon, Iran, Pakistan. Like when I was in Islamabad last year when Bhutto was assassinated, I saw a huge smoke cloud from my hotel, burning tires, and I was That’s where I’ve gotta be! That’s where it’s happening! Not in some vampiric, voyeuristic way, just in the sense that I want to learn the lessons. It’s one of the few ways that a man of 50 who is long of teeth and grey of hair can stick it to The Man! By going to Tehran, talking with prostitutes and waiters and bus drivers and then telling people You know what? Those “evildoers”, they’re really cool, and really normal as a matter of fact. How do you like them apples? And a lot of people don’t like those apples, believe it or not. You’d be amazed at how much shit telling people that other people are normal and cool gets you into, because The Man – whether he’s a some oil-hungry Neocon pussy or an Islamofascist asshole – doesn’t want you to know that.

What’s it like doing a show in Syria or Islamabad or Lebanon compared with a show in, say, Brighton?
Oh, I wasn’t doing a show; I was just visiting.

OK…
I always just drop in places I’m curious about, and see what up there. If I wanna know about somewhere I just go.

Do you think you’re a brave man?
Absolutely not, no way! I’m not a tough guy in any way whatsoever, man: if someone pulls a gun, I’m running away as fast as I can. I just want more from life than sitting around watching The Sopranos on DVD.

I heard you slept in Uday Hussein’s bed. What was that like?
It was a bed. Just like any other, but it was in the son of Saddam Hussein’s torture camp, with the hooks in the wall where he hung women up. When I was doing the USO stuff [Henry regularly visits troops in warzones and military hospitals], we were in the compound in Baghdad, and Uday’s palace was where some soldiers go for R+R – a place you can get air conditioning, a cold beer and a chance to watch Lethal Weapon or whatever on DVD and feel like you’re not in the middle of a war. So the guy was like on our first day in the Green Zone [adopts drill sergeant voice] One of you will now have the dubious honour of sleeping in the bed of Uday Hussein! And I was like Wow! What’s that going to be like? That’s MINE!

I though it was really cool how you once said that your way of protesting the war was visiting the troops.
I hate this war that Bush and his evil, evil gang of corrupt pondwellers have embarked on, but I have maximum respect for the troops who are fighting and living it every single day. So when USO [the organization that provides entertainment and support to US troops] said some of the guys out there like my stuff and they asked me if I wanted to meet some troops, I – of course – said yes. And it’s tough, man. These are guys who have seen and done more than anyone can imagine. I’ve talked to guys in hospital with pins stuck through their arm, amputees, people with their face blown off – things that no-one can ever imagine. The saddest thing is that these guys, their whole life has instantly changed. Whatever their plans were, however they thought their lives would pan out, those plans have to change, and so do the plans of his wife and his whole family. And there are no words for the rage that that gives you. Seeing that shit, it reminds you how much work is to be done.

What’s the toughest thing you’ve ever had to do?
What, you mean personally, in my life?

Yeah.
Grow up, I think. Having to realise that life is a lot tougher than you ever thought, and how hard you have to work at it. Realise that you have to use more than aggression in life, and that there are other people besides your whiny pissy little self. Yeah, that’s a tough lesson to learn, and it took a long time to penetrate my thick cranium, longer than most people. I had to have it kicked into me.

Are you an artist?
I’m not an artist, no. A bullshit artist, maybe… Musicians are allowed to have a long 18th year, if you know what I mean, a life with no responsibilities to speak of. But then you meet people who are like 21 with two kids, and that’s real, you know – having a human being that depends on you making money to stay alive. And you have to hustle hard then. A lot harder than strapping on a guitar and being like This is my office. You can't be surrounded by booze and drugs and girls and be like This is my nine-to-five and still connect on meaningful level to the guy driving the bus who is buying your record. Luckily, I make rent though, but I've gotta hustle. That’s why I do what I do, you know, the films and so on, the 300-day tours – I still have that minimum wage, how-am-I-gonna-make-rent mindset.

Why do people love Black Flag?
I don’t know. I really don’t know. I mean, I had nothing to do with the band – all the stuff that is remembered as classic Black Flag was written before I joined, mainly by Greg Ginn. I was like the fourth singer, so when someone says they love the band, I say, Yeah, me too, I’m a big fan.

Really? Because for me, you kind of are Black Flag: I can’t imagine the band without you. Even if you didn’t write the songs, you kind of do symbolize the band.
I was in the version that recorded the album Damaged and I was in the version that toured it internationally. So yeah, people around the world do think of them and me, which is cool, because they’re a really good band. But in terms of their appeal… Stuff like 'Six Pack', which is such a cool song, it’s absolutely awesome, was before my time. I had really nothing to do with that.

It’s about twenty past 10 here. What should I do with the rest of my day?
How much time do you have? If you get time, read some stuff on the internet. Get informed and inform others. And when the sun goes down, I’d think about getting laid and making dinner.

What should I do in August?
Oh man… Apart from see my show? You could go to North Africa. You’re like nine hours away from Marrakech, go and see what it’s like over there. Or book a flight to Phnom Penh in Cambodia and see the Killing Fields – it’s the rainy season over there, so all the bones and teeth will be exposed.

Cool! Cheers for this Henry.
No problem man. See you on the road sometime.

Nathan Coley interview for Insight

Nathan Coley makes beautiful, Turner prize-listed art from Western sets, Scottish islands, Belgrade housing blocks and cardboard churches, and I got a chance to speak to him in June 2008. House is a feeling:

You should pop down to the De La Warr Pavilion in July to see Nathan Coley’s show. Photographer, sculptor and installation artist Nathan has exhibited at some of Europe’s strongest houses, including the hyper-next Haunch of Venison, the CCB in Lisbon and the Fruitmarket in Edinburgh, where he made knee-high cardboard models of every place of worship in the area. Of course, the thing that got him the most column inches was his Turner-Prize shortlisting, which he picked up last year for, among other pieces, beautiful scale miniature show homes and terraced houses. We love him because he wrestles with the hugest of issues – faith, country, art, nature, you name it – with heartfelt wit and rare humility.

Hello Nathan! What’s the work you’re showing at De La Warr Pavilion?
Hello… It’s a new commission from the DLWP and Haunch, and it takes as its starting point a Western stage set. Westerns are about decline, at least in part, and from it hangs five words; BELIEF, LAND, WEALTH, MIND and FAITH, which are the five rights granted under Islam, but also are appropriate for the frontier mind. Also, the idea of a stage set is very interesting to me as a sculptor. You can’t go for a whiskey in the salon, but that’s what people around the world think of when they think of “a salon”.

It’s really cool.
Cheers.

I really like how your work is totally political – in the sense of being about, y’know, “stuff” – but it doesn’t order you about.
Yeah! That’s what draws me to buildings – it’s the way that people build their environment and community around these things. You know, I don't think of art in that modernist sense of something which you stand before and "experience" – I think of it as something that builds up in your mind. It’s as simple as “This is what I think, what do you think?” Art should provoke discourse and make you see the world around you… Well not differently, but at least make you look around you and give you something nice to talk about when you’re having your tea.

Is the place something you give real consideration?
I think where a work is changes its meaning and effect, definitely. With There Will Be No Miracles Here [a huge carnival light display carrying the words of the title on bare scaffolding], it was originally erected on the Scottish island Bute, where it said something about what we want out of nature. When it was placed in front of a Belgrade communist-era housing block, where it might say something about the dream of socialism. Of course, where it is now [in the Tate] might mean something else entirely.

Simian Mobile Disco for Disorder Magazine

SMD interview for Disorder magazine, from February 2007:

After the Eno-produced electronic folk rock band Simian burned out in 2005, SMD rose from the ashes his year, with their new record, Attack, Decay, Sustain, Release and its brain-crushingly good lead single It’s A Beat. With set-ups at The End and Bugged Out! mixes under their belts, as well as a load of remix workouts for Klaxons and yep, Justice, they seem to be pretty well-born, combining the three key dance moods that are shaping up to dominate 2007 (Ed Recs-esque "filthy" electro, the trancey stuff coming out of Berlin and, yes, nu-rave) and post-rave acts like LFO and KLF. "Whoooooosh" is the overall effect and there's a bit on track seven that starts off really minimal, but caves into a Euphoria-heavy beat as if the song itself can't stop grinning for gurning. It's really, really fun, and – generalization alert! – kind of sums up dance music in this country in 2007.

What question do you always wish you were asked?
What would you like to drink?

Could you tell me about your new album, what's the story behind it?
We have been writing tunes for ages just for a laugh and we suddenly realised that we had loads of tunes. We want the album to be a good listening experience, not just loads of bangers thrown together.

What was the recording and writing process like?
We generally work really quickly. Rather than laboring over a few tracks we like to do loads of them and then choose our favourites. We plug the machines in and guide them while they make music for us.

It's an old story, but I'd like to hear it again. What happened with Simian the band and how were SMD formed?
Simian split in at the end of a long tour of the states but we are all still mates and help each other out with our new projects. SMD started with me and James djing in clubs after Simian gigs. We started doing remixes and when the band finished we just kept on djing and making music. Now we are an act in our own right.

Mr. Ford, you've just produced the Arctic Monkey's new record. Can you tell us something about them that we'd never know?
Jamie ate a phal for a bet. I had to pay for his curry.

There's a song on there called Tits and Acid, and I've been reliably informed that acid makes you visualise music. How would you describe your music in a visual sense?
Strobe. strobe. strobe. one of those old oil lamps. strobe. strobe. strobe.

What do you have in common with our primate cousins as musicians?
We like drums, and fire. We work on instinct.

These New Puritans: Complete Control for Dummy Magazine

I'm an absolute sucker for both high-camp and any band that recalls Marxist-Dadaists who battle brownshirts on the streets of Berlin. Dummy, September 2007:

These New Puritans – the band that brought you Heidi Slimane-approved numerology-obsessed no wave and blogs about boiling water and Jacobian tragedies – are playing around the country on the Blyk-backed Unitaur with Crystal Castles, The Teenagers and DJ Mehdi. Their debut album, Beat Pyramid, is out in January.

What was it like recording the album? You did it with Gareth Jones [who produced Wire, Einsturzende Neubauten and Liars], didn’t you?
Yeah, he’s a genius; he’s like a professor. A load of this record is made out of sampled bits and pieces, and he really brought that out: things like recording underwater or in a park, or sampling knives cutting. We were having a cigarette on the roof of the studio and we started messing about with these barbecue tongs.

What kind of stuff were you listening to when you were recording it?
We were watching a lot of movies, unrelated to music, I suppose. We were listening to a lot of dancehall, dubstep and ragga and 20th century classical music.

There’s something quite elusive about your “online presence.”
Yeah, we started off as an internet-only band, just doing webcasts and podcasts and stuff. We do like to keep it quite elusive. I really like the aesthetics of terrorist videos – how grainy and far-off yet immediate they seem – there’s something about the fuzzy screen which lets you add layers of meaning. So it was weird when we first started playing around and about. Playing live still feels weird – I don’t really know how to react when someone talks to me afterwards.

What’s the reaction been like so far?
It’s going alright, interesting to see people responding to our music – and playing it to people who might be into different groups. It’s weird, though. People either seem to really like us or be, like, visibly disgusted. People often seem insulted by us.

For Dummy: Dan Deacon's top ten ways to make the world a better place

You know what I love about Dan Deacon? That his myspace lists his music as Americana. I really like that. Here's the first top ten for Dummy, from Dan in November 2007:

Dan Deacon has been setting Baltimore basement parties on fire since the days of his MA in Musical Composition with his Venetian Snares-meets-Playmobil piano electronica. His new album, Spiderman of the Rings sounds like a Shostakovich record that makes you want to eat jelly till you feel sick and need to lie down and to celebrate his awesome seventh LP, Deacon came by to drop some science on us fools. Here are the Deacon commandments:

1. Get a loop/delay pedal. If as many people who played guitar played loop/delay pedals then music would really evolve at a much more interesting rate.

2. Stop using money. All it does is fuck you over.

3. Book shows in your house. Music, art, dance and theater shows in homes are vital. It creates an atmosphere that no other space can achieve and everyone can do it! There are endless touring artists that are just starting out and would be willing to play anywhere. If you live in a big, dirty house where it can get loud, have big, dirty, loud shows. If you live in a nice, clean place that has to stay quiet, have art shows or quiet shows. Put on plays in your basement. Just about any space is suitable for some sort of awesome shit.

4. Don't be lazy.

5. If you feel there an unbalance, then balance it.

6. Stop having children. We are building our species up to an extinction point. Soon disease and bacteria will re-balance the earth and it will be awesome. So I guess have tons of kids and quicken the process.

7. Listen to Raymond Scott and Conlon Nancarrow everyday.

8. Watch the movies The Apple and Zeitgeist. Make children watch these movies.

9. Stop renting and do all that you can to end the concept of land ownership.

10. Realize that the world is already the nicest place to live, forever.

Yeasayer's top ten crap bands for Dummy

Yeasayer's rise to rule is another happy happy happy this year, and in March I tied them down to slag off some bands for the semi-regular Dummy feature:

Brooklyn's unfaultably earnest Yeasayer – who are rereleasing their awesome album All Hour Cymbals from last year, probably because nowhere near enough people realised it was out already – took a few minutes out to cuss some bands for us. Can't really fuck with any of their irony-busting choices. They're on mini-tour at the moment, so if you didn't get round to seeing them last year, get down to the ICA on Wednesday. Or see them in Glasgow or Manchester later in the week, if you live there. The 'Wait For The Summer' single is out on 17th March, and the pretty cool video is above. Yes! Yes! It is! On with the hate:

1. Van Halen / KISS
Let them duke it out. To the death.

2. Bare Naked Ladies
They should be number one, but Van Halen really deserve it.

3. Lenny Kravitz
Apart from the fact that Lenny is terrible on his own, he also taints other artists, like Jay-Z.

4. Black Crowes
Why are these guys famous? Their career was made off of crappy covers. Plus they just seem like assholes.

5. Eric Clapton
What a loser.

6. George Thoroughgood
One whiskey, one bourbon, one shoot-me-in-the-head-right-now.

7. AC/DC
Little Australian men in little shorts singing the same song over and over again.

8. Pearl Jam
Eddie Vedder influenced every bad singer from 1992 on.

9. Santana
Santana seems like a really cool guy, but he's had far too many collaborations with Rob Thomas.

10. Sublime
Snowboarders have really bad taste in music.

Dan Hillier for Dazed and Confused

An art piece for Dazed from way back in February 2007, about a Max Ernst-biting modern engraver. Last I heard he was on Neil Gaiman's thing, which is great news:

If there is a movement in art toward the dark, weird and down-right odd in art at the moment (see those Chapman boys, Sebastian Gogel and any given grub street gallery) then Dan Hillier is definitely a part of it. Hillier creates intricate, dark, surreal, graceful and iconoclastic engravings, sourced from ephemera such as Victorian medical encyclopaedias, religious imagery and found photographs. “I like using found pictures and drawing out new narratives from them by bringing previously unrelated images together. I particularly enjoy the results when they're dark and a bit weird,” he says. The results are like postcards by Beardsley from a Victorian inventor’s mansion. If the mansion was populated by circus freaks and Werner Herzog, that is. No surprise that he lists his influences as wine, Max Ernst and mushrooms, then.
He grew up in between the dreamy towers and rough-as-guts estates of Oxford, and studied art Cambridge fifteen years ago. Whilst working as a henna tattooist, he was drawn to doctoring images in his work and, as a hobby, collected fragments of Victoriana. Recently, he started combining the two and realised that new, twisted stories could be told from the most banal of materials. After sifting through car-boot sales and back-street charity chops, fitting images were found. Quite simply, he trawls though “old anatomy and science books, vintage wallpaper, old advertisements for ludicrous Victorian quackery and labour-saving devices” so we don’t have to. The images, once found are combined and doctored on Photoshop or illustrated with vintage Indian dipping ink.
The works depends on the use of forgotten images and discarded memories to re-write a gorgeously dark period of our history, full of elephant men and taxidermy, death and medicine. There’s rich vein to be tapped, and Hillier is only too happy to oblige. With a wink, he calls his work “the quiet dedications of a slightly idiotic man with a fledgling perception of the universe's mysterious charms and a joy in the pleasures of communicating a love of strangeness, darkness, nature, beauty and human people.” He pauses and laughs. “Or just lines of ink on paper and wood.”