Twenty-one years of When I Was Born for the Seventh Time

Cornershop at the Charlotte, Leicester, 1995

Cornershop - When I Was Born for the Seventh Time (1997)

In the early 1990s, Cornershop were an incendiary, rough-edged, Indian-Anglo indie band based in Leicester; an historic city with a medieval king buried under a car park and a more modern history where middle England and British Commonwealth families met and lived (sometimes uneasily) alongside each other. 

This was where I first met and photographed the band during their early abrasive gigs as they progressed from their initial statement of intent singles to creating eclectic, pick ’n’ mix albums that referenced and challenged the orthodoxy of western rock n’ roll. Sometimes they did so wittily (a compilation album of their first two EPs was entitled Elvis Sex-Change) and at other times, Cornershop didn’t just want to bury the King of Indie, but to set a funeral pyre, as they did to a poster of Morrissey in response to his increasingly blatant racism. 

Like their records, reactions were mixed and sometimes disparaging, which made for a tense dynamic regarding their perception within the UK, particularly by the then influential, weekly music press. However, by the time of their third album, 1997’s When I Was Born for the Seventh Time, Cornershop had gone beyond making ripostes to Britain and were unexpectedly reborn as a multifaceted and globally aware phenomenon. Even among their supporters, I wasn’t alone in having failed to imagine that they could have created an album that continues to startle in its originality, ambition, breadth and delivery. 

Some context for this transformation comes from how the album was midwifed by their original independent Rough Trade backed record label, Wiiija, with added international backing from David Byne’s Luaka Bop label and co-production by rising hip-hop producer, Dan the Automator. However, that doesn’t take anything away from the album’s cohesion and diversity that continues to sound timeless, contemporary and even anticipatory. While the amusing song-sketch, Funky Days Are Back Again took its inspiration from New Labour’s then rise to power, its vision of dungarees and worker’s strikes backed by a primitive casiotone soundtrack might be even more suited to post-Brexit Britain.

Like Cornershop themselves, When I Was Born… has been somewhat overshadowed by the success of its second single. Their tribute to vinyl culture and Indian cinema, Brimful of Asha, cleverly referenced all the band’s genre mixing and globetrotting musical influences but in a post-modern twist, it became a catalyst to itself and an astonishing international hit, courtesy of an unsolicited Big Beat remix by Fat Boy Slim. On the album though it’s preceded by the strangely hypnotic, sloping album opener, Sleep on the Left Side, which acts as a perfect foil before giving way to the deceptively simple, Richman-esque riff that announces Brimful’s joyous arrival. 

clockwise from top left: 
Tjinder Singh, 
Ben Ayres, 
Peter Bengry, 
Nick Simms, 
Anthony Saffery

From there the double-album’s fifteen tracks dovetail into each other, including a number of instrumentals featuring looped samples and sitar breaks. There are also some rather special guests but before that, Cornershop have some star turns of their own. In particular, We’re In Your Corner, which starts gently enough with Anthony Saffery’s sitar and Ben Ayres’ tamboura before a sharp Punjabi “Hanji” greeting marks the entrance for Nick Simms’ drumming and Peter Bengry’s percussion. With Cornershop’s main figure, Tinder Singh now singing assuredly in Punjabi, the band hit their stride and have the confidence to let the song rise, fall and rise again on this epic, hypnotic track. On the album’s closer, Singh returns to his mother tongue on an otherwise faithful cover of the Beatles' Norwegian Wood. 

In between more multilingual voices appear as Lourdes Belart counts in Spanish from uno to quatro on Good Shit, followed by a duet with American country singer, Paula Frazer, on Good To Be On The Road Back Home. While the former extolls the joy of being on the journey as Singh describes “feeling good behind the wheel”, the latter lists an increasingly number of dislocated places (Tokyo, London, Chattanooga and New York City), that lie between the narrator and his home. 

According to the album’s credits, such references nearly match the number of locations where When I Was Born… was written and/or recorded in, including Singh’s bedroom on London's Holloway Road. And if that wasn’t enough global locations, when Good Shit was released as the album’s first single (with its title appropriated for public consumption as Good Ships), the cover featured an African-American astronaut - without helmet but with full afro - enjoying a space walk above Earth.   

Two American poets of rather different kinds complete the album. On Candyman, Justin Wharfield provides a hip-hop delivery over a looped Larry Coryel guitar riff alongside Singh’s declaration to be the song’s returning protagonist. The track itself has remained so fresh that a decade later it was dropped untouched into multi million dollar global marketing campaign to sell footwear. Meanwhile, in one of Allen Ginsberg’s final recordings, the original beat-poet provides a reading on When the Light Appears Boy, as what sounds like a carnival parades past, several floors down on the street below. 

Over twenty years on and in a world that’s become increasingly compressed and polarised, When I Was Born…continues to describe the experience of global citizens from multiple origins with their own histories, loyalties and soundtracks. It might even just be that wherever you are now, the sound you hear outside your own window was foretold on When I Was Born for the Seventh Time.

When I Was Born for the Seventh Time was released on 08 September 1997 by Wiiija 

An edited version of this review appears on the Corneshop website 

All photos © Greg Neate, neatephotos.com

More photos of Cornershop gigs are collected here 1992-94 and 1995-98.

Have You Guys Got the Internet Over Here?

A brief interview with Drive Like Jehu (1994 / 2016)

 Drive Like Jehu at the Charlotte, Leicester - 1994 © neatephotos.com

The opportunity to see Drive Like Jehu play live at any time would have been close to being essential. In late 1994, it could hardly have been more timely, as the enigmatic melodic hardcore four piece from San Diego toured the UK with Yank Crime, the second of their two legendary albums. Within a year they effectively disbanded and their charismatic guitarist, John Reis, became better known as 'Speedo', the frontman of the flamboyant, good-time, rock & roll review band, Rocket From the Crypt. The sense that an era might well have been ending would later be emphasised within the title of the 2014 documentary film, It’s Gonna Blow!!! San Diego’s Music Underground 1986-1996.

Reis and singer/guitarist Rick Froberg would later resume their musical alliance between 1999 and 2005 in the just as vital but more direct, Hot Snakes, whose live set referenced a shared history (one that predated Drive Like Jehu in their earlier band, Pitchfork) with the inclusion of Luau from Yank Crime. However, it wasn’t until 2014 that Drive Like Jehu reformed and in a gesture of civic support towards their Californian home town, played their first show in nearly 20 years accompanied by the world's largest outdoor pipe organ.

Back in 1991, it was through the portal of John Peel’s radio show that I’d first heard and recorded individual songs from Drive Like Jehu, the band’s self-titled first album. While the immediacy of the dynamic, jagged guitars on songs like Good Luck in Jail and O Pencil Sharp was thrillingly apparent, the chopping and syncopation of Mike Kennedy's bass and Mark Trombino's drums completed song arrangements that were filled with palpable tension and sheer release. And when all parts converged and galloped with barely contained abandon - as on Bullet Train to Vegas, a 7” single released between their two albums - it made for a breathtaking, breakneck ride. 

Intertwined with this startling musicianship were the simply worded but evocative lyrics of Froberg, a man who was just as able at delivering a scream with remarkable precision. Comprehension of the lyrics wasn’t always necessary to appreciate their intensity but within Froberg's words there was often an existential black humour as typified on Atom Jack;     

Yeah, you should be happy to see me 

be glad that I'm not dead. 

I took your bullet, anyone notice? 

No one was thrilled to see me again.

***

As a student in Leicester in the early 90s, I distracted myself by photographing gigs and had previously made a collage based fanzine, Quality Time. While the photography came naturally, my experience as a writer was painfully laboured and even more so as an interviewer. Still on the night that Drive Like Jehu played our local pub venue, the Charlotte, as well as packing a camera, I brought along a tape recorder as... well, you never know.

In keeping with the irresistible intensity of the songs from both albums, the gig was always going to be an energy-charged experience. Filled with enthusiasm afterwards, I approached Reis as he packed away their gear about the possibility of an interview. Unexpectedly selfless, he advised that I ask Froberg, who was alone in the Charlotte’s upstairs dressing room and graciously agreed with minimal negotiation only minutes after the show's ending.

If only I had prepared something intelligible! In my desire to seek more than a mundane account of the band’s history, I suggested trying something creative using what I could remember of Froberg’s lyrics to create a chain of words for use in a future collage-based feature. After patiently hearing my proposal, the singer politely, and not unreasonably, declined stating that he preferred conversations.  

Fifteen minutes later when the interview ended, I knew I had made an excruciating embarrassment of myself; so much so that I dared not to transcribe the cassette, let alone play it back. Yet, despite my fear, I knew that there was one potentially significant exchange that was worth retrieving. 

Rick Froberg, Drive Like Jehu at the Charlotte, Leicester -1994 © neatephotos.com 

Thus, if Drive Like Jehu could reform over 20 years later, the least I could do would be to listen to my 23 year old self and find out what that was. Somehow within my floundering performance, I unwittingly asked a question that in hindsight prompted a revealing answer from Froberg about how our world was on the verge of being transformed. That question had been grasped from the title of Yank Crime's second song, Do You Compute, from which I then asked the singer about his view on computers and technology. 

Rick Froberg: I guess I'm a technophobe or something like that. I worked at several art-based jobs where all the stuff that was done manually is now done with computers. I don't like computers that much but I figure that I probably have to learn to use one. There are some really cool things. Have you heard of the internet? Have you guys got the internet over here?

I confirmed some awareness though in 1994, it was as alien to me as learning a second language - GN.

RF: The internet is amazing! Information from anywhere in the world. You can have a conversation with anyone and to see all these other conversations [going on] is amazing.

GN: Does that stuff overwhelm you?

I asked this in part from my own frustrations with computing at the time, while unaware that Froberg was an accomplished visual artist and illustrator whose work included the band's cover art  - GN.

RF: That doesn’t overwhelm me. I thinks that’s a really cool aspect of computers. [However] the idea of a perfectly good but more arcane technology being phased out in favour of the newest, hottest, digital, whatever... CDs are a good example of that. Having vinyl completely passed out in favour of CDs because that’s what the industry says is going to happen and they make happen, just pisses me off. I think records sounds better. I like big art work and all the stuff that comes along with putting a record on a turntable.

If you look at any magazine [now], they’re all done digital on a computer screen. When I worked for a skateboarding magazine four years ago, we did it all by hand. There’s little things wrong with it but it’s just better to do things with your hands. You can do things faster with a computer and more efficient but what’s the hurry? I don’t understand what the hurry is? Everyone wants things to look perfect and clean and sterilised or something.

***

Such a sentiment could well have described the mindset that I wanted to bring to my cut and paste fanzine and though I had dared not to go back to my recorded interview, Froberg's answers would have suited my zine's second issue when it went to print two years later.

In 2016, Drive Like Jehu had their own car crash moment in April when their curated three day festival for All Tomorrow's Parties - which was to feature their first post-reunion appearance in the UK, alongside Hot Snakes and Rocket From the Crypt - was cancelled with less than a week's notice. As disappointing a blow as that was for all involved, in a sign of the times that was unimaginable a generation ago, the band stole a march on the tight lipped organisers by confirming the news in a memorable social media post that described their situation as a "uniquely cruel hoax".

Two months and one almighty false start later, Drive Like Jehu played their first shows in continental Europe in over 20 years and within 24 hours posted a decidedly more triumphant announcement from Primavera that could then be seen "anywhere in the world". All of which now begs the questions, just when will Drive Like Jehu appear in the UK again and will that travel bill with Hot Snakes and Rocket From the Crypt ever take place?

Neate at ATP - Exhibition summary

With all the preparations involved in putting together All Tomorrow's Parties' first photography exhibition at ATP Terminal in London, I've overlooked updating my own photography blog.

Today, 13 July, is the last day to view the exhibition though my print portfolios will remain on site for sales. ATP Terminal Shop is located near Rough Trade East at 12, Dray Walk, London E1 6NJ.  Opening times are Monday – Sunday 11am - 7pm.

In the course of the exhibtion there were a number of online features which are collected here as separate links. Here is ATP's page, a self-penned preview for the Quietus, a feature in Umbrella magazine blog and a feature / interview with It's Nice That.

With the help of Roweena design, the neate photos website continues to be overhauled.  Other social media links for neate photos are here: Facebook, Twitter,  Instagram.

 
Thanks to all at ATP for their offer and help with putting together and everyone who visited and pitched in to share the details. Cheers all x

Recovering from TB to run a marathon

Post-marathon drinks with Sheila Thackwray, mother of Seonai Gordon.

I was running when I first noticed something wrong. A week after moving to London’s East End, I had gone out jogging to explore the local area. Ten minutes later though, I had to slow down and then walked back along Regent’s Canal. 

Days later during a joint house warming and birthday party for my girlfriend, I faded again. I should have been celebrating myself, having completed my basic psychiatry training weeks before. However, feeling increasingly tired, I excused myself and retired to bed early, only to be kept awake by my new onset cough and the party underneath our mezzanine bedroom.

The next day we left by car to visit my girlfriend's native Netherlands. My cough continued while visiting friends in Kent and Belgium. I had a brief run of night sweats but these settled and I expected my flu had passed. I wasn’t really in the mood for an outdoor three-day festival though I tried to keep going and stocked up on lozenges to stop this relentless cough.

However at the festival I had now gone off alcohol and food. The fact that everyone spoke English just made me more self-conscious. While it rained all weekend and the site flooded, my cough continued and for the next three nights I sought refuge in the barn-sized cinema tent. There was a medical tent too and as I passed each day, I considered checking in. Previously I had been a volunteer doctor at the Glastonbury and Reading festivals, though I doubted much could be done for an annoying cough.

Assessment

On returning to London, I explained to my GP that my sides were sore from coughing and I’d lost weight like never before.  After his examination, I was curiously surprised to hear there were sounds half-way down my left chest. I was reassured to leave with a prescription for the antibiotic, erythromycin and thought I’d soon be better. Over the next few days my cough settled, I could eat again and my plans to see my Dad and brother in Australia next week seemed on track. 

The night before my flight, I was at the theatre and felt a familiar need to suppress a cough. However, this one wouldn’t go quietly and I excused myself to run up the stairs. I made it through the theatre doors before releasing a cough that left fresh blood in my hands. I washed up in the empty bathroom and looked in the mirror to check if I was unwell. I wasn’t sure but not wanting to cause alarm, I returned after the interval to see the end of the play. On our way home, I then explained to my girlfriend that I better visit A&E.    

When I described the blood, my cough and the noise that the GP heard in my chest last week, the nurse who took my observations suggested that a chest X-ray would be arranged. I was then checked over by a young doctor who seemed more thorough with his physical examination than I might have been. As he heard no unusual sounds in my chest and recognising each other as fellow professional, white men, we mutually agreed that all would be OK and an X-ray wasn’t needed. When I mentioned my planned flight to Australia, he seemed more excited than I was and offered to write a medical note. I felt that was unnecessary, but as the erythromycin had finished, he gave me a week’s course of penicillin V.

When I reached Australia though, I was still coughing and with my Dad being a retired radiologist, a chest X-ray was soon arranged. On returning from the radiology department, I received a phone call to say that an appointment had been made for me, for the following day at the chest clinic. There, I finally saw the reason for my three-week cough, a 10p-sized cavity in the centre of my left lung, right where the GP had heard the coarse sounds.  

Diagnosis and Treatment

By now, I was intermittently bringing up sputum. Specimens were sent for microbiology testing and I started another antibiotic. However, days later, that changed again when the microscopy results came back positive for acid fast bacilli, the tell-tale sign that meant tuberculosis - TB. 

I had only planned to stay for ten days but now I was grounded and house bound until further notice. I started taking four different antibiotics, which after two weeks was reduced to three when my sputum cultures showed that my TB strain wasn’t antibiotic resistant. From medical school days, the combination of rifampicin, isoniazid and pyrazinamide was familiar to me by its grim acronym, RIP. However, since the 1970s, this standard triple therapy taken as a daily course over six months, has been the mainstay of successful treatment for TB. 

Australia in the springtime was nice but I wasn’t prepared for having little to do. Along with the advice about the importance of compliance and avoiding alcohol, I’d been warned about the medication’s side effects of orange urine (due to rifampicin’s pigment) and fatigue. I certainly felt tired but wasn’t sure if it was the medication, TB or the the long phone calls to explain the situation to my girlfriend. Six weeks later, I was allowed to stop the pyrazinamide and as I was no longer considered infectious, I returned to London with four more months of treatment to complete.

While I had been away, my girlfriend had been screened and informed the members of her family that I met in the Netherlands of their own potential risk. Fortunately, she had no signs of illness herself when seen at the nearby London Chest Hospital, where I was now booked into for follow-up care. There I met the respiratory physician who was undertaking a critical incident review into my care in A&E. That was reassuring because of the inconvenience caused by the advice I was given though I felt sure it was an honest mistake. My untypical profile for someone with TB and the circumstances of me flying abroad the next day had been an unfortunate combination of events.

I was keen to know about the source of my infection as previously I didn’t know anyone who had TB. While TB is more prevalent among migrant communities, I hadn’t been in the East End long enough to have contracted it there. I wondered if it came from my work as a psychiatrist in London during the previous two years. Certainly health workers are at increased risk but that meant it could have been anytime since I started medical school 15 years earlier in another TB hot spot, Leicester. Although I had received the BCG vaccine when 13, I now knew all too well that it didn’t provide full individual immunity. Identifying the direct source of my infection was futile though I was later told that my TB strain matched those of other infected Londoners.

Recovery

Three years later on a Sunday morning in spring, Brighton’s first marathon went by my seafront window. After the elites there followed ever slower runners, joggers and then walkers who had yet to complete half the course. I admired their effort but thought, I couldn’t do that. Not because of TB, which I had recovered from, but as it was too damn long!  

Previously I had completed 10 kilometre races in my youth but the appeal wore off when my younger brother started beating me. I tried cross-country at senior school but similarly would lose interest and stroll back through the fields. At medical school and afterwards, I would run for half an hour to clear my head, though there was no interest in races, let alone investing in running shoes.

In early 2011, the Brighton based charity TB Alert asked for volunteers to run the next Brighton marathon on their behalf. I had been running longer distances to improve my fitness and thought I could do half the distance but didn’t think 26 miles would be possible within a few months. Yet it seemed the ideal opportunity to try and with two months to go, I ran my first half marathon in under two hours. My legs hurt afterwards but it was manageable and I felt more confident seeking donations to go twice the distance. 

As it was, having done a couple of 15 mile runs in the weeks before, I was reasonably prepared and finished the marathon in under 4 hours. While I was definitely wobbly during the last six miles in the midday heat, I was greatly assisted by the support of people cheering the name on my vest and who I wasn’t going to stop in front of. My legs were tired again though my greatest health risk came from not wearing sunscreen on the hottest day of the year. I also discovered why runners grease their nipples. 

Reflections

Having achieved something that I might not have done without my TB backstory, am I different? Am I even healthier? TB has likely reduced my lung capacity though fortunately, it hasn’t been noticeable. Through my training, I certainly have more stamina and while I don’t set targets, I do run comfortably for longer.  

In some ways TB has made me more determined as a person. During my treatment and while out of work, I realised I’d have to concentrate on my health and focus on things that I could achieve. Where previously I had been unsure about my career, I applied to resume my training in psychiatry and probably finished sooner than had I not been unwell.

My delayed diagnosis was inconvenient and the personal consequences were worse for being abroad. I fear for what may have happened to those who were close to me when I was infectious and wonder how the TB bug influenced my behaviour. 

In hindsight, the diagnosis for my symptoms of coughing, weight loss and tiredness seems obvious, but my lack of apparent risk factors appears to have distracted me and the first doctors I saw. The site of my TB cavity was also misleading, as while most pulmonary TB develops at the top of the lungs where oxygen concentrations are greatest, mine was at the top of my left lower lobe, which occurs in only 10% of presentations.

Even with my medical knowledge that coughing blood suggests either TB or cancer, in my mind I had ruled these out before I reached A&E. As my Australian physician explained, TB is the ‘great mimic’ that can resemble other conditions and often leads to wrong diagnosis and treatments with partial recoveries. That explained my own initial response to antibiotics, which likely treated coincidental secondary infections. However, had I not gone on to be diagnosed and adequately treated, I would have been vulnerable to relapses and developing antibiotic resistant TB.

I’m also aware that compared to most people with TB, I was fortunate. I received free health care, my TB strain wasn’t antibiotic resistant, nor did I have other complicating factors like HIV. Also relative to many who have chronic and debilitating TB, my diagnosis and treatment came early and improved my recovery. Fortunately, I wasn’t treating patients at the time and as far as I know, none of my close contacts contracted TB. I can only hope that’s the same for others I was in contact with then.  

In trying to come to terms with my illness, I was frustrated at how little I could say about it at the time. My diagnosis wasn’t something to share widely and after previous partial recoveries, I couldn’t be sure that I would recover as I have done. I therefore had to be selective in terms of who I told, which in itself was tricky to judge.

When considering how to tell my story and raise awareness, it was apparent that every TB story is different. For me, once my diagnosis was made, my recovery was straightforward. For others it can affect the stomach, bone, kidney or nervous systems and remain latent or prone to recurrences and without treatment can be fatal. That, along with the fear associated with TB’s reputation makes it a difficult message to explain, particularly without causing undue alarm. 

As a doctor, I’m continually aware of other people’s health. However, it was a disease from the past that was my first confrontation with my mortality but though TB, I learned that even a marathon wasn’t beyond me.     \

In memory of Seonai Gordon.

24 March is World TB day. For more details click here.

On 15 April 2012, I will be running the Brighton marathon again for TB Alert. Donations can be made here.


Updated 25 March for feature in Observer

Lawrence English - extra quotes

Lawrence English - Brisbane, 2012

My interview with Lawrence English is online at the Quietus.  I've posted here two sections of unused quotes from the interview. The first has more detail on how Lawrence approached his version of the Peregrine. The second covers his approach to making recordings with Japanese artists, Tenniscoats.

LE on the Peregrine: 

"I never spent any time in East Anglia. So, it was all my impression of the landscape. It’s another stream that I’m developing which is based around the idea of wabi sabi. It’s a Japanese aesthetic philosophy. The whole idea is that you have perfection and imperfection. I’m interested in that idea of saturation and distortion - how you can take a very clean signal and transform it. Then in that process of the transformation, there’s an aesthetic quality that comes that you’re not going to get from the original source. I started working on that thinking, ‘I want to make a record based around this philosophy’, which will probably become one of the next records. 

It’s a perspective thing. For some people that appeal of ‘perfection and imperfection’ will never be of value. They’re looking for something that is pristine, that’s pure. Minimal techno is such a pure art form, there’s no room for artefact or anything that’s not pristine. Someone like Ritchie Hawtin - it’s really pure!

For me, I thought there’s an interesting correlation between that and this idea of having not been to this environment - using someone else’s view of that to envisage what that might be and then translating that into music. So the Peregrine stems out of that idea. It’s an imperfect view as I don’t have anything to call on except for this document, which is someone else’s transcription. It’s like Chinese Whispers, [where] each degree of separation from the actual landscape was a nice move down this wabi sabi thing. It’s slightly imperfect each time and then hopefully you end up with something that is your understanding of that space."


Lawrence English soundcloud

Tenniscoats - the Albert, Brighton, 2009

Lawrence has recorded two albums with Tenniscoats for release on his ROOM40 label. Here he describes his approach to recording and collaborating with them.

“You can give those guys a glass bowl, a bottle and a couple of tin cans and they’ll make this amazing piece. Literally anything they touch can become a musical object. I don’t have that... I can’t just touch something and it becomes instantly melodious! 

So when I work with those guys, it’s more an ‘arranging’ and ‘treatment’ thing. I might play some synthesiser or drums or have an idea that adds to that song. Often I’m taking the ‘core’ of what they’ve done and transforming it, almost like a producer role. With Totemo Aimasho, we improvised a lot of stuff together and I used that as source material. I sent that to them, they built songs out of that and it came back. It was a ‘process’ thing.

My best contributions were more in terms of the actual sonic character of the record and maybe the arrangements of the pieces. It’s more a ‘compositional-thing’, rather than a ‘performative-thing’. Tenniscoats have a very clear vision of what they want out of their work. I think they partly value that it’s a totally different way of considering how things might work. 

The other record we did, the Temporacha record... I think I played some stones and sticks on one piece. The rest of the time was literally setting up situations and positioning them to have particular kinds of qualities. We decided to do these recordings in unusual locations or in places that were outdoors [and] variable, like parks and rivers. We recorded [Ninichime] inside a huge drain pipe across this river. They were so far apart, there was this beautiful echo I could capture. That was winter time, so it was freezing. I waded across this river and stood in the water with the microphones basically recording them in this gigantic drain. It was a process, a conceptual thing that drove the collaboration. We treated it like a field recording, which is obviously something I’m super-interested in."

Hear Ninichime.

See Tenniscoats recorded outdoors.

I Am Curious, Orange

The following text features in the new issue of online men's magazine Umbrella.  Yes, I've been trainspotting. Neate photo set.

Above ground in Glasgow, orange has sectarian and soft drink (known as ‘ginger’) associations. Underground it represents the Subway, ‘the Clockwork Orange’, the third-oldest (after London and Budapest) subterranean metro system. Serving 40,000 people daily across both sides of the River Clyde, the Subway may have been electrified, modernised and rebranded since opening in 1896 but it still follows much the same, entirely underground 6.5 mile (10.5 km) loop of 15 stations, though some station names and locations have since changed. 

“A model railway for people” laughed my new colleagues when I asked about their home town metro. Certainly its narrow, four foot (1,219 mm) gauge makes for slimmer trains with seating that runs along the carriages while trains and platforms only stretch to three carriage-lengths. Its these dimensions, along with Glasgow’s variable geology and economic fortunes, which have preserved the Subway’s separateness from the railway network above ground. While these factors have also ensured its lack of expansion and stubborn survival, last year it was suggested that the Subway might have to close.

Originally the Subway operated by a cable haulage system, similar to San Francisco's cable cars, before tracks were electrified in 1935. As stations then consisted of single island platforms, trains running on the Outer Circle and Inner Circle lines (clockwise and anticlockwise respectively) only had doors on one side. The Subway then closed between 1977 and 1980 for substantial modernisation with additional platforms built at its six busiest stations. Its these rectangular spaced platforms with brown brick floors and off-yellow tiled walls lit by fluorescent tubes which gives the Subway - along with its turnstile barriers - an urban, American feel. 

However it was the bright orange exteriors of the post-modernisation trains that brought a European and futuristic appearance; even when passing through the Subway’s shabby south side. It was these trains’ iconic facades, designed in partnership with the Glasgow School of Art, that easily encouraged the Subway’s Kubrikesque tribute. Although trains today are painted in the ‘carmine-red and cream livery’ of Strathclyde Partnership for Transport (SPT), orange still remains reassuringly evident throughout the Subway’s signage and ticketing machines.

Earlier this year the Scottish Government approved a £290 million upgrade to overhaul the Subway and deliver a new wave of station modernisation with improvements in public access, which for disabled passengers is limited at best. Work at Hillhead Station in the upmarket west end has already begun with plans for a sleek, metallic silver design by Clancy Docwra that will be familiar to those who use London’s Jubilee line. With a public art installation by Alasdair Gray, Hillhead’s upgrade is expected to be completed by summer 2012, and will act as a ‘flagship’ for future station upgrades. 

Also recently announced is the deployment of new branding, styled by local firm, Stand Design, with Klavika - the font of Facebook’s logo - due to feature on all posters, trains and signage. More importantly for those nostalgic for the Subway’s ‘Clockwork’ past, future trains will again be orange but with a modern grey and white twist. Already one train to sport this design is in service and makeovers across the fleet are due to be rolled out ahead of the Commonwealth Games in 2014.

Further developments planned include an integrated, smartcard ticketing system by 2013, as well as driverless trains and automated signalling. Although this new attention on the existing line means that plans for an East End Circle extension are on hold, it appears that the legacy of the Victorian Glaswegians and their unique, orbital Subway has now been secured.

Full interview with Ajay Saggar of The Bent Moustache

This is the full version of my interview with Ajay that appeared in a slightly edited form in the Quietus at the end of October ahead of the Bent Moustache's UK tour. You can hear the album here!

The Bent Moustache at the Windmill, Brixton February 2008.

Having overseen live mixing duties for some of most significant melodic, noise bands in recent times; the Bent Moustache’s second album, Pastures New Seasons Turn, sees veteran soundman, Ajay Saggar, unleash his own musical vision and return to the stage. Although his name maybe unknown to most gig goers, chances are if they saw My Bloody Valentine at ATP, Dinosaur Jr or Kurt Vile among others, then his safe hands have already delivered cascades of sounds to their ears. Its these volume handling skills, along with his personable abilities as a tour manager, that have kept him in demand for nearly 20 years. 

Now employed as production manager at legendary Amsterdam venue, The Paradiso, Ajay’s insuppressible drive to create and perform continues, despite its more modest returns. Its a continuation of a musical life that’s entwined with gigs, studios and independent releases starting in Preston in the late 80s with the gonzo, post-punk outfit, Dandelion Adventure. After moving to the Netherlands in the 90s, this continued with the abrasive, dub-based sound collages of Donkey, who retained a British identity with his sardonic, English vocals. As well as sharing a certain, cavalier bass player, both bands live on in the footnotes of musical obscurity, each having left behind a pair of albums and recorded a John Peel session.

The night before we speak by phone, the current Bent Moustache line-up (Ajay with Jane Mack, Nora Uitterlinden and Steven van der Steen) launched the new album in Amsterdam on a bill that included J.D. Meatyard, the latest project of Peel favourite, John Donaldson (Levellers 5, Calvin Party). When Saturday comes and I call Ajay at home, having made breakfast for his wife and son, he’s due to test last night’s ‘George Best’ preparations with his local league football team.

Ajay with the Dandelion Adventure at the Powerhaus, London, March 1990.

My own history with Ajay goes back to when aged 18, I was struck by seeing the weirdest group of Banana Split characters with a twin drummer attack this side of the Butthole Surfers. Leaping off stage from amongst the five piece Dandelion Adventure, came this tall, Asian dude with a knee-slung bass, who kept playing whilst flat on his back at the audience’s feet. They just had to be in my fanzine and we’ve since kept a correspondence going, whether with Donkey at London’s Guided Missile club, as tour manager for Sebadoh or sound engineering for various touring bands at ATP festivals (see his Soundation website to view the 50-plus acts he’s worked with). 

Two years ago as their semi-official photographer, I joined up with version two of the Bent Moustache in Iceland, where they had been invited to play Aldrei fór ég suður; a festival organised in Mugison’s hometown of Ísafjörður, in the country’s north west. Although they were one of only two foreign bands playing (the other came from the Faroe Islands), Ajay is an honorary Icelandic musician following years of touring with múm and Seabear. Thus it was whilst talking in Europe’s most north-westerly point with múm’s Gunnar Orn Tynes about his admiration for the tea-drinking, British mannerisms of our Dutch-speaking friend with Indian origin that I appreciated his truly global perspective.

the Bent Moustache at Sodoma, Reykjavik - April 2009.

The Bent Moustache in Ísafjörður, Iceland - April 2009.

Ajay’s take on indie-music is what make Pastures New Seasons Turn similarly unique. Opening track, ‘Skip a Breath’, is a driving pop song with epic strings and dream-like layering of guitars with male / female vocals that’s reminiscent of many of the guitar based bands he’s mixed with. ‘Hey Mate (I’ve Got Plenty To Spare)’ has heavier dynamics developed over a longer soundtrack where Ajay drawls, “my music is a dangerous product, won’t you buy it mate?” before delivering a series of demonstrative crescendos. There’s killer riffs (‘Seine Meine Geheime Code’), dancing horns (‘Loose Thinking Now’) and a certain wilfulness not to make everything easy (‘The Sound of Sirens’). Pastures New Seasons Turn won’t save the music industry but it bridges numerous indie-themes of the past 30 years while standing alone as the view of a one-off, man of the world who knows his way around a mixing desk.

So Ajay, can you describe how you approached the album and your thoughts about it now?

Ajay Saggar: It was a lot of work. It was something I was completely desperate to do. Basically at the end of the last year, I just made a decision, I had to get on with it and get this record through. 

Did you play most of it yourself?

AS: Yeah. I recorded and demoed everything myself. All the instruments, all the songs. And then I invited others to come in and play around it. But I did the core of it and because of that, the album is not so rigid and and formulaic. I didn’t have that chance to collaborate with other people like other records where everyone got their 10 pence worth. Actually the album title, Pastures New Seasons Turn, came from basically, “I’ve had enough of waiting, I’m sick of having to drag my feet at the expense of other people’s projects. This is me grabbing the moment!”

You’ve said before this is the album you’re most pleased with on listening back. Is that still there for you?

AS: Believe me, it really is. When you’ve so involved in a project from writing it, going to the studio, to mixing, mastering, doing the artwork, getting the test pressing back... In the past after finishing a recording, I can’t listen to the songs. I can’t even play it! This is the first time, I can listen back to it with pleasure. The whole package is really, really pleasing.  

Its got a more epic and together sound. How deliberate was that? You obviously felt confident to throw in horns and strings in different places.

AS: Well that’s something I’ve done a lot anyway with Donkey records and with the last record (2007’s Forst, released by Transformed Dreams) there were elements of that. I just think the actual songs themselves are a step forward in being more accessible. People have said that I’m actually singing rather than just doing a vocal delivery which is valid. 

How was it to play the songs last night?

AS: It was really good. Playing those songs live felt like another step forward in pushing the limit of your art. I also had that feeling there was a shift in people’s thoughts and their approach to the band.

There are certainly some instant songs where the sound is very pristine and would make for a very immediate EP. But there are a few curveballs and diversions as well. I wonder if there’s often a deliberate ‘anti-success streak’ to what you do?

AS: Well, there is an element of that in there, I don’t deny it at all. But ultimately the whole thing of making music is, if you’re not happy with it yourself, there’s obviously no point in doing it. Everything I put on it, is something I had strong ideas about and in the studio I thought, “Right, I’m really going to do it. I’m going to experiment. I’m going to pull out these instruments and try different combinations of mixing to achieve the sound.” 

Donkey at Upstairs at the Garage, London 1998.

AS: The whole curveball element; all the records that I’ve done have had elements in that. Like all the Donkey stuff, the last Bent Moustache album, even going back to the Dandelion Adventure. When the first Donkey record came out (1995’s I Ain’t Yer House Nigger, jointly released by Wormer Bros. and Guided Missile records), Kevin Shields said to me, “the album’s great, just the variety of it”. He thought that was actually how albums in the future would be made. That’s what bands would do. That’s a more honest way of approaching music with people actually putting their hearts on their sleeve.

The approval by My Bloody Valentine’s leader may have as much to do with the album’s inclusion of comic soundtrack sketches similar to De La Soul’s Three Feet High and Rising that Shields famously enthused about, as well as credits that the album was ‘EQ’d at “MBV studio” with Kevin’ .

One way I thought of describing the new album was that it represented another great radio show by John Peel.

AS: Yeah! Well, there you go! Perfect! That’s a really interesting observation. Last night his name came up. I turned round to the guy next to me, and said, “You know what? I wouldn’t be doing this presentation tonight if it wasn’t for Peel.” It comes round to Peel ultimately! You know an album like this? I hold my hands up! It is a good Peel compilation!

  

Do you think you’ll get more attention than you’ve had before?

AS: You know, I think that’s always going to remain really difficult Greg. Honestly, I’m not expecting it. I don’t really know if that will ever happen to be honest. The longer you do it, the more people have perceptions about what you’re going to be. We could put an album with 10 ‘straight’ songs; I still don’t know if that attention would come our way.

With your sound engineering, you’re clearly much admired by the people you work with. Can you say how you approach that?

AS: My first instinct always is, “If I’m on stage, if I was in that band, how would I want it to sound?” And, “If I was in the audience, what would I want to hear on the night from that particular band?” Then I just let loose. Basically, the only approach I’ve ever had is that I’m the extra member of that band. I either make the show or I break the show. 

There are ground rules obviously but a lot of times I just let go and force things out; sounds that I really want without going down the normal sound engineering path. There are different elements with it, whether its volume, frequency or the level of compression. Then its the basic dynamics of each particular song, each particular moment, each particular minute or second. I accentuate it or bring it down. Just keep the whole dynamic of the whole set moving. I need to be as thrilled by the 30th show as I was by the third show.

When I first started I kind of didn’t know anything. It was so raw, it was brilliant! In a way, some of the best sounding shows I did were when I started. It was so, so punk rock but sounded great. Really made me think, wow! This is amazing! People would come up and say, “What the hell did you do?” “[nonchalantly] I don’t know.” Basically I was winging it, trying to experiment. It was like a big science class that I had for an hour and I could just let rip.

This might be difficult to answer but do you know how you’re viewed by other sound engineers? Is there a community that observes and comments on each other?

AS: Occasionally you’ll talk to people about other engineers but it’s almost like a taboo area. It’s like asking me, “How much do you earn for your shows?” Nobody does that. I have commented on other people who I thought did a great job or were stinkingly bad.

As to how you’re regarded by other people? I don’t know. I think a lot of people know I’ve done certain bands and you’ll always be associated with those bands. That’s nice because people still come up to me and say, “I remember that show with so and so... I’ll never forget that sound.” Those moments are touching. That’s really, really nice to know that your efforts have been observed.

Before I called I was thinking about sound engineers as musicians; Brian Eno, Lee Perry, Edwin Collins. Is there anyone else you can think of who’ve made a contribution in both fields?

AS: Kevin Shields, he’s the most obvious one who comes to my mind straight away. Just because of his dedication and approach to working in the studio is unrivalled in a way. He’s so meticulous.

How was the experience of doing My Bloody Valentine’s sound? 

When I got a call from the Valentines’ tour manager, I was kind of wary because I know Kevin so well, what he would want from me and how our personal relationship would lap over with our working relationship. I had my vision of what I wanted it to sound like from knowing the records so well and having seen them back in the day, when they were playing really small clubs, up to the really big, venues. 

I think of all those shows we did, I was pretty happy with half of them and the other half was more to do with circumstances, where I didn’t really have control over the dynamic, like at festivals where the wind blew the sound everywhere and I wasn’t fully able to express what I wanted. But the other half, I thought, “you know, that’s actually pretty damn good!” By the last ATP show, his sister and brother who’ve been to so many shows from beginning to end said, “That was the best the Valentines had ever sounded!” For me, that was like, “You’ve heard it [all now]. You’ve seen it!” That was really cool.

The Bent Moustache (version 2), Brighton - February 2008.

As well as his MBV associations, Ajay’s enthusiasm for the Fall is legendary, a passion that while in Iceland led him to track down the engineer at the studio where Hex Enduction Hour was recorded. With the Bent Moustache now embarking on its third incarnation, their approach to line-up consistency is even resembling those of the infamous Mancunian outsiders.    

Speaking of bands you’ve a strong connection with, do you think your life has been overshadowed by the Fall?

AS: [laughs] No, it’s definitely not overshadowed because there’s so many other great things going on in my life. Not just the music. My family. Football plays a big part. 

On a music front, they continue to inspire me and make me realise that if you can’t push your art to the limit, you’re doomed. That is a band who have done so without any form of compromise and have always remained exciting, vibrant and just necessary. They’re a force of nature who have remained a vital part in my life because you never know what’s coming next. I still find it really cerebral music. If you go on the Fall website, go to the lyrics page and read all those lyrics; it’s like reading an amazing novel. It’s like these wild stories which you know only one person could have written. Smith’s world view is so sharp, its frightening. How he nails situations or people with one acerbic turn of phrase. People spend lifetimes sitting at universities trying to analyse situations and make a valid analysis. He just nails it in one line. It’s like, genius!

Again, we have to thank Peel for introducing them. From the moment I first saw them live to the first record I bought. I was, “What is this? This is the most amazing thing I’ve heard in my life.” We all know he’s had his up and downs but he’s just so focussed. He knows what he wants. He’s got his visions. He knows how to get it.

I was in Manchester two weeks ago (on tour sound engineering) with Kurt Vile who did a Marc Riley session...

I was going to ask you about that.

AS: Did I tell you about that?

Yeah (among many more in Glasgow the following night - GN), but say it again!

AS: At the BBC, I was like, “Alright Marc! How are you?” I hadn’t seen him for many years. I put them (the Creepers) on when I was at college in Lancaster. Since the whole Kurt Vile thing took off, Marc Riley’s been a big fan. He’s always been in touch, “guest list this, go for a drink that!” It’s all ‘cosy and rosy [laughs].’

    

Earlier I got a friend of mine to contact Smith through (his wife) Eleanor and say, “I’m in town, do you want to come round to the show?”, not expecting him to turn up. I went to meet friends of mine for a pint and when I got back to the venue, the bouncer said, “Mark Smith is looking for you.” Oh, right! 

I went next door to the pub and he gave me a big hug, bought me a pint and started moaning about all the students who were in there. So he was just, “What did you do today?” “Oh we drove up from Bristol and we had to do a BBC session...” and he was like, [in gruff Mancunian] “Was it for RILEY?!” We just left it at that! We’re not getting into that!

The other thing was Marc Riley couldn’t make the show because he had to go the dentist or something the next day and he was so bothered he couldn’t make it. But Smith decided to come in for one song or something, until some student started pestering him. I was really glad that Riley never turned up!

That must have been a culmination of all your musical heritage there in one day!

AS: I know! I know! Everything came home in that one day! Some bigger God was talking to me in that one night.

And similarly, there’s this John Peel day coming up in Preston that has a similar resonance. 

The Bent Moustache at Un-Peeled, the Continental, Preston - 29/10/2011. 
Links here for more photos of the Bent Moustache and Un-Peeled.  

On October 29th at the Continental in Preston, the Bent Moustache played Un-Peeled, a tribute show to the legendary DJ, on a bill that boasts the ‘most Peel session alumni ever collected’. With Clinic, the Nightingales and Ted Chippington among others, it’s estimated that collectively, all the acts playing have recorded over 50 Peel sessions. This prompted a discussion about the bands that were around during Ajay’s musical coming of age.

AS: All those bands in the late 80s have a legendary status - Bogshed, A Witness, the Membranes, the Creepers, the Janitors - there was like a slew of them. So many bands. If people say, “What do you play?” I say, “indie music”. Nine out of ten people don’t know what you’re talking about. At that time, it was like a badge of honour; fop-haired, anorak wearing, pathetic kid, louching around; everybody knew what indie was. All those kind of bands like Pigbros and Bogshed; you knew where they were all coming from. They all drank for the same well. 

Nowadays, its really difficult. Like Deerhunter, how would you define them? Or Sun Araw? Or Animal Collective? It’s music obviously. I’m not saying you have to put a label on anything but that collective feel that you had with those bands, I kind of miss that these days.

I suppose that when there were the original four divisions of football, you’d have them there in the third division.That was how I worked out my geography, not just from football but where band’s hometowns were.

AS: Exactly! It was an important part of that whole thing. You knew the Nightingales were from Birmingham, Half Man Half Biscuit were from Tranmere, that really mattered. 

That leads me on to commenting about how remarkable you’re own cultural background is.

AS: It’s weird, it’s been mentioned more and more. All the reviews start with that, “Indian born in Kenya from Britain, living in Holland”. Yeah, it is pretty unique. I feel really fortunate because I can always turn to different elements of my past life. If people have been to Africa and say, “I came across this kind of situation”, I know exactly what they mean because I can always refer to my 10 years in Kenya.  And the Indian element is so strong as well.

Indeed, because you fail the Tebbit test don’t you?

AS: Oh completely!