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In the mid-eighties, while the industry was labeling The Jesus & Mary Chain “the next big thing,” the younger generation already had them pegged as stars for acts such as provoking a riot, getting arrested for drugs, performing entire sets with the singer’s back toward the audience, and the entire band walking off stage during a TV broadcast because they were fed up with the playback. Put simply, they exemplified punk. As for their music, British Melody Maker readers voted their 1985 debut album Psychocandy “the best album of the ’80s.” Over a decade later, brothers and founding members, Jim and William Reid, have joined forces with guitarist Ben Lurie, to create their latest effort Munki, released in June ’98. The album, written by Jim and William, was recorded and self-produced in their own London studio, affectionately called The Drugstore. Recently, Jim decided to grant some interviews – a rare treat – and picked a pub in Camden as the locale. Still exuding the punk lifestyle, and, I might add, doing his best to get roaring drunk, Jim chatted about past and present. Despite the seemingly endless amounts of alcohol he poured down his throat, he managed to come across uncommonly eloquent, yet obviously not really too keen on interviews... | ||
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You’re always kind of drifting between styles... | ||
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Sure, but I really like that. I don’t like to be labeled. I don’t want to be in a neat little drawer with neat little buttons. I always had the urge to break out of that drawer. Give the audience a surprise, a run for their money, challenge them. | ||
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So how would you describe your new album Munki? | ||
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We returned to the electronic sound and we got a couple of ideas – inspirations – from good old fashioned rock’n’roll. It’s a documentation of our present state of mind. Every song has a meaning. We only give the audience two choices: they can love us or hate us. There’s nothing in between and that’s OK. Do you love us? Do you hate us? What else is there? Nothing. | ||
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Sometimes you really get close to what can best be described as bubblegum... | ||
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There’s nothing wrong with bubblegum. I dig bubblegum. Some of my favorite albums are bubblegum. Look at "Sugar, Sugar" from the Archies, that’s first class bubblegum. It’s perfection and I don’t think that anybody could top that. | ||
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How do you like your old albums? Do you look back or is it all in the past for you? | ||
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I don’t listen to them anymore. It’s like looking at old photographs of yourself. OK, I’m doing that sometimes, looking at the photos I mean... | ||
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Is it like your earlier albums don’t exist anymore? That’s hard to imagine... | ||
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After 13 years, you’ve changed your label. You left Warner and went back to the indie label Creation [in Europe, they’re on Sub Pop in the US]... | ||
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With Warner I always felt like Bugs Bunny. It was really frustrating. I don’t mean to dis Warner. I think it’s the policy of the major labels. It’s a gap between the artist and the marketing. I always tried to write good songs. I always tried to give my best and they treat it like...like a cheeseburger. They want to sell a product and I have a hard time seeing music as a product. I guess that’s why I’m a musician and not a marketing person. In general, I can only say that all I ever wanted to do was to make music, record albums and be left in peace. | ||
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The Jesus and Mary Chain are one of the oldest bands in a pretty fast paced business. You’re almost like an institution and you should be able to do whatever you want after 14 years.... | ||
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That’s how I feel. That’s how we all feel. We do what we want and wipe up the blood later. Ha ha ha. | ||
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What really annoys you? | ||
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If we’re recording a great album and have to fight with people who don’t like it. If they don’t like it they shouldn’t buy it. Simple. But if the guys from the record company don’t like it, then it’s tough. Actually, maybe they would like it if they’d listen to the music, but pretty often I get the feeling that they’re only listening to the cash register. | ||
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Sometimes your lyrics are pretty melancholic. Isn’t it a bit strange to sing a sad song especially if you’re feeling great at that particular moment in time? | ||
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Not really, because a depressing song can make you feel really depressed, so that’s OK. Don’t take the lyrics too seriously. A lot of journalists asked me if I’m suicidal because I sang "I wanna die" [in the song "Reverence" from the ’92 album Honey’s Dead]. So I told them that it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to live anymore, it just means that I want to dye my hair blonde, ha ha ha. I could be a suicide blonde, died by my own hands! But I really do feel more like drinking now. I gave you all the answers I have. If you need more, just make them up... | ||
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