Interview: Dexys
FEATURED ALBUM
Fans of Dexys Midnight Runners never believed they would see the day — yes, there’s a new Dexys album, the first in 27 years. Amid all the youth-tribal divisions of early-1980s British pop, this band always enjoyed a uniquely partisan kind of follower, largely thanks to the fierce tunnel-vision of their leader, Kevin Rowland, who formed the band in Birmingham in 1979.
Their sound was a brash, punked-up take on 1960s soul, and their look — white vests, donkey jackets, “tea-cosy” woolly hats — was similarly an homage to the New York dock workers in the Marlon Brando movie, On The Waterfront. Dexys soon took theU.K. charts by storm; then, sporting a new raggle-taggle gypsy chic, they went supernova with the worldwide hit, “Come On Eileen.”
Thereafter, Rowland seemed to go off the rails, as he spent two years crafting 1985′s commercially disastrous Don’t Stand Me Down album. He faded from view, only to resurface in 1999 for his solo album, My Beauty, sporting makeup and women’s clothes. They were men’s clothes, he argued, and he was merely expressing a different side of himself.
Thirteen years on, contrary to rational expectation, Rowland now returns with a nominally trimmed Dexys, and an album called One Day I’m Going to Soar, which fully lives up to the standards of the original Dexys trilogy. Packed with sensual, moving, brilliantly crafted songs, and driven by an unflinching, soul-searching, near-theatrical sense of narrative, it is another exceptional record.
Talking in a rare interview with eMusic, Rowland confirms that its genesis has been harrowing for him. Ever a control freak, he has denied himself easy and lucrative alternatives until he could fulfill his creative idea to perfection. This, though, was the man who used to take out ranting full-page adverts in the music press, rather than give interviews. In conversation, he’s often needlessly confrontational; yet, behind that façade, lurks a dry, Midlander’s sense of humor, which leads our conversation into absurd, miscomprehending banter. At such times, it almost feels like you’re trapped inside one of Dexys’ bamboozling philosophical dialogues…
It’s been 13 years since My Beauty, and 27 years since Don’t Stand Me Down. Why so long? Are there loads of great lost Kevin Rowland albums lying on the cutting room floor?
No, it’s not like that. I don’t write songs and not use them. A couple of these songs are about 20 years old. Really! But they all came together in the last couple of years. I really don’t know why. The right musicians helped. One day, Mick Talbot [Dexys' keyboardist] got involved, that was a big step forward, then we went as far as booking the studios, and I thought to myself, I’m just not ready for this. My voice wasn’t good enough. So I said to everybody, “I’m really sorry, I’m gonna have to put this back.” That happened a couple of times, actually.
So what finally enabled you to take the plunge?
I went to India. I had a few physical complaints, nothing major, but they had a debilitating effect. I went to this ayurvedic place, it was right hardcore. There was a tiny room — a bed and a bucket. I worked on my voice while I was out there, and I really decided there. I really wanna make a record.
So when I got back, I saw my manager. We were on the train, going to a football match and I said it to him. Then, I talked about the way I wanted to do it — get the musicians together, rehearse two songs at a time, like a rotation — rehearse songs one and two, then next day rehearse songs three and four, and so on. Then, three weeks later, get back together, rehearse songs one and two again… In between, maybe go round and visit the musicians individually, talk to them about what’s being played.
My manager was like, “You won’t even get them to commit, you’re only giving them two days’ work here and there. And it’s gonna take too long.” But I just felt it was the only way I could do it. We were producing it ourselves and I’m not a producer. This was the way, I felt, that we could make a record that would be good — get the musicians to a high standard.
Did you have a strong idea of how you wanted Dexys to sound in 2012? “She Got A Wiggle,” for instance, sounds like it was modeled on all those great Al Green and Ann Peebles records from the mid-1970s — the hovering strings, the slow, crisp drum beat…
We would play certain records to Ben Trigg, who arranged the strings. We’d give him some melodies, and we’d play him some soul records, some Irish records also. We wanted it lively sounding.
In a way, the drum sound is a bit like Sound & Vision, by Bowie, which I thought sounded really great at that time [1977], and radical — live, and sexy. It might not be an original sound, but against everything else these days, it sounds fresh.
When you first emerged with Dexys in 1979, you were taking on soul music with a defiant punk attitude. The name Dexys Midnight Runners referred to the speed-crazed antics of dancers on the Northern Soul scene, which was exploding around you in the Midlands, and…
[Impatiently interrupting] I’m not really from the Midlands. I came toLondonwhen I was 11. That’s a bit of a myth.
But by 1977, you had a punk band in Birmingham called The Killjoys, right?
Yeah, I moved to Birmingham when I was 20-21.
And after that you were turned onto soul through the Northern scene?
No, I never liked Northern Soul. That was Kevin Archer, who was in the first band, who wrote the music for “Geno” [Dexys' first No. 1 hit from 1980]. He liked Northern Soul, I liked funk.
But so much of Searching for the Young Soul Rebels is an homage to soul — the title, the brass, the stomping beats, the cover of Chuck Wood’s “Seven Days Too Long”…
That was because, when I was a kid in school in 1968, in Burnt Oak in North West London, I heard “Seven Days Too Long” when it was released for the first time. So that was soul to me. We took that, and other different influences. In many ways, I wish I hadn’t said so much about soul at the time, because I think it limited us. It was soul, but it was other things as well.
When you hit the top with “Geno,” you were infamous for eccentric behavior, such as tongue-lashing audiences for chatting during your gigs. Then when you had another No. 1 with “Come On Eileen,” you disappeared and obsessed over your third album, Don’t Stand Me Down. Were you freaked out by being successful?
I think I was. By Don’t Stand Me Down, I was burnt out. I didn’t know that at the time, but looking back, I’ll say that now.
After Don’t Stand Me Down, you made one iffy solo pop record, 1988′s, The Wanderer, then vanished for 11 years. Did you find, at that stage, that being in the public eye didn’t agree with you?
I think so. [Uncertainly] I mean, I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I am grateful for having the opportunity to be a pop singer. But I think you’ve gotta be quite solid emotionally in this business, and I wasn’t. I get a bit freaked out under pressure, so that affected me, and it affected people around me. You know what, though? Dexys did three good albums, people loved them. Who died? No one. It’s all right.
But people were worried about you for a while there…
Who?
Those of us who loved the band, who heard you’d fallen on hard times.
When?
After The Wanderer, stories were flying around. You were a coke addict, living in a squat, bankrupt…
Right, right. [Long silence]
So did you end up in financial trouble?
Yeah, I got into some financial trouble [sighs, and smiles], but it’s all right now.
My Beauty, your next solo album from 1999, was seen as something of a folly. It was your big comeback, and it was a covers album! But I remember reading at the time that it was intended to be the first installment of a trilogy. What happened?
Creation Records [to whom Rowland was signed] went down — simple as that. We were about to make a Dexys record, which would’ve been the second part of the trilogy.
Still, do you see why some people thought you’d lost the plot after hearing that album?
You’d have to talk to them about it.
What do you feel about that period now?
What do you feel about it?
I loved the music.
I like all of it.
I saw that set at Reading Festival where you were bottled and heckled, but you played on — you were so courageous, and dignified.
Yeah, I thought that was a good show. It was a myth that we got bottled off, we didn’t. We went off the stage feeling quite victorious. I’ve got no regrets, if that’s what you’re asking.
What were you trying to express at that time?
I don’t know, it’s 12, 13 years ago. I’m someone else now. I just look back and see another phase.
Is there something you’re always trying to express. Love? Individuality? Soul, in a broader, human sense?
I don’t honestly know, I don’t analyze it. That’s a journalist’s job to figure it out. My job is to do it, and I don’t always do my job, know what I mean? Look how many years I haven’t done my job. It’s just, when you ask about 1999, I just think…I thought you were talking about the dress.
No, I was asking you about the record, and that phase of your creative life.
Oh, I thought you might’ve been talking about it because of the way I was dressed. OK, I misunderstood. From what I remember, I didn’t really think about it too much, what reaction I was gonna get, I just did it.
When you were financially challenged, were you ever tempted to reform Dexys on a purely cash-in basis, on the nostalgia circuit?
Obviously I was approached by those reunion tours, and festivals — like, come and play the hits at this festival. Definitely the money would’ve been useful. But I went to watch one of those shows at Brighton Centre, and I realized that I couldn’t do it. It was a 1980s package show, and I think it would’ve depressed the fuck out of me to do anything like that. It would’ve been thinking about money and nothing else.
How did you install the right support network around yourself, to make Dexys feel special again? Did the team pick themselves?
Everything fell into place finally, whereas it didn’t five or 10 years ago. I went with it.
There’s an incredible narrative flow to One Day I’m Going to Soar, where each song seems to lead on from the last. Was it conceived as a complete story?
It wasn’t. It was written as single songs. I just thought to myself, “Hang on a minute, if I put these in a certain order, they’re gonna tell a story,” and I decided to do that. But it wasn’t written as such.
Without wanting to spoil the impact for anyone who’s about to download the albums, it’s about a guy who can’t commit in his relationships, but at the end finds himself rootless and alone, but free. Is that you?
It’s really hard for me to talk about the lyrics, because everything I wanted to say, I’ve written it, and it’s deeply personal. It’s probably better if you figure that out yourself, and interpret it however you want.
But are you OK, in real life?
I’m all right, you know? [Another long pause] I’m all right…
Read more: http://www.emusic.com/music-news/interview/interview-dexys/#ixzz1yMifSfv6
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