Damian "Pink Eyes" (Fucked Up)

"I mainly listen to music when I'm walking around so I guess that is the ideal way. I guess this way the music takes on a sound track type quality. When we record the record I walk around and listen to the instrumentals and get ideas for the lyrics. Walking around has always made for the perfect environment to write for me. I have no idea why.... perhaps it is because there is nothing to completely distract but at the same time you can't be 100% focused. I makes for a sort of concentration limbo.

I am born and raised in Toronto and that played a huge part in who I am. Toronto is like a huge small town and it is a relatively safe (being a large male) so from an early age I was able to go around on my own and explore. I can't imagine living anywhere else. As for how it has affected us as a band: because everyone knows everyone we have been able to get the wide variety of guests on our records. If you want someone ton guest you just find a friend who knows them and get at them that way. Also Toronto hardcore at the time we started was an older scene so a lot of the music we liked wasn't really reflected by what was going on in Toronto so we had to kind of build our own scene.

Ancient Jerusalem, America (actually the western world in general) [played a part in the inspiration for The Chemistry of Common Life]. Toronto played a part but not so much specific places (with the exception of the bonus vinyl song which was inspired by the migrant worker camps in Johannesburg). The lyrics kinda work like my mind does, jumping from on subject to the next, so it is hard to point to a specific thing that inspires all the lyrics to a song. The next record though I want top focus on the history of the derfeated and conquered so there will most definitely be specific places.

I guess I look at music as being a very personal thing, a solitary activity. I hate to listen to music in clubs or bars. That is why it took me so long to start DJing, which is something I have tried a couple of times now and I kinda hate doing I also like to listen to music at my desk.

I love to listen to the stuff from the Best Show on the road. It is a halarious radio show from New Jersey. They have put out a few CDs on some of the best bits. I'm also a fan of the related Earles and Jensen stuff and Andy Earles stuff on the best show. Other then that stuff I listen to old pop-punk. I fand the futher I can get away from the music I will be seeing at the show that night the better.

My top 5 [tour records] would be:

NOFX-Punk In Drublic
The Best Show On WFMU - Hippy Justice
Earls and Jensen - Just Farr A Laugh
Best Show On WFMU - Best OF Andy Earls (bootleg)
Roky Erikson - Evil One"

Thanks to Damian (via Catherine) for the interview.

Ian Mackaye

"I remember reading a really interesting book about Australia that presented an alternative history. The author's point was that the official history of Australia really bears no relation to the real Australia. The official history bore no relation to the real one, but the people in charge, the people that toe the line, make decisions that people actually have to live with.

When Amy and I wrote “Everybody Knows”, we were thinking about Washington city as the economic capital, as the last place to go down, basically. So many people come into this city, and they're just passing through. They're just coming here to make their bones. It might be a college student, or it might be a lawyer, or it could be the president, but all of them are coming in just to take and are leaving like a bunch of frat kids. They don't give a fuck about about this city. It's almost like a vacation spot to them because they don't have anything invested in it, it's not their home.

The point of that song is about what it's like to live in a situation like that. People are just coming in and it's very hard for any one to actually lay any roots. For those of us who live here, we really hang on tight. People who live in this town have a tense relationship with it. I think it's because we're dismissed.

I can give you a really good example of what it's like to live in Washington. About eight or ten years ago, there was this republican, almost missionary, movement to name as many things as possible after Ronald Reagan. It was led by a group whose mission it was to name something after Ronald Reagan in every city in every county in the nation. They built the largest federal building in the district and called it, “The Ronald Reagan Building”. Of course, Ronald Reagan was no friend of Washington, not to the people who lived here, at least. They really grinded our faces in it though, when they decided that they would name the national airport, “Ronald Reagan National Airport”.

It had been our national airport forever, and they asked the people that own the airport who said, “no”. Then they asked northern Virgina where the airport is actually housed, and they said, “no”, as well. So they went to Maryland, which is the other side of Washington, and they rejected them also. It was uniformly rejected and they did it any way. To make matters worse, they sued any media outlets that refused to call the airport, “Reagan Airport”. They forced them to do it by law suit, it was incredible. This is a crystal clear example of the abuse that gets heaped upon the people that live in this city, and you can't say a fucking thing about it. At the end of the day, though, it's our city.

I also meant to talk [in that song] about the country. We have people who are really sick running the country, we have corporations that are wreaking such terrible havock, but ultimately it's our country. I'm not a nationalist, and I couldn't give a fuck about nationalism. I'm talking about that I woke up here, and I live here. This is where I spend my time, and that was really the point of the song.

Reclaiming has been a pretty central theme in my life, even from the very beginning. So many people thought that straight edge was fundamentalism, but really I was saying that I was just reclaiming the right for a person to be themselves. It was so obvious to me that we don't need to do what we're being told to do. We don't need to pay any one to do any thing for us, we have it already. I even have a song, “Reclamation”.

I'm also really interested in reclaiming language. There's a lot of word play that I use. People have really stolen certain words. An egregious example of that would be the term, “politically correct”. I always ascribe it to the Reagan revolution, the idea of taking “politically correct” and turning it into something that people really wouldn't want to be associated with. It's a very big brothery thing to do, to take words that sound right and tell people that they're wrong. It led to a kind of irony that trickled down into the underground. Punks would start using it to belittle other people and I would think that the conservatives have done really well here, they've really fucked up language and made us eat our own shit.

It's an ongoing practice by the government, and the military by the way, to deny the existence of certain conversations by changing the language used. They're not really taking responsibility for the fact that, and this is really the bottom line, the United States has employed people to murder other human beings around the world. They can call it whatever the fuck they want, but it's murder. Even the use of the word “war” is dubious; what kind of war is it where you don't have two sides? It's really cynical use of language.

The Dead Kennedys had this famous song, “Fuck Off Nazi Punks”, and there's all this wondering whether or not there were any Nazi punks before Jello told them to fuck off. In some ways, people fill in the blanks. I knew of some assholes, but didn't know of any Nazi punks to speak of. By the 80s, by the 90s even... I mean, Fugazi was playing shows in rooms with fourty guys doing the Nazi salute to us. I'm not blaming Jello for it, I'm just talking about language.

There are people in our world that I think suffer from a very deep pathology, and what they're suffering from is a disease really. They have anger and violence in their belly and they're looking for ways to express it, they want the toxicity out of them. They're looking for any way to release this poison from their system, and the triggers are very simple rules that can't be broken. Any breaking of these rules becomes an invitation to violence.

I think that even in a situation like, “Fuck Off Nazi Punks”, the idea is that people might say, “that sounds like me, I'm in”. I'm not blaming Jello but it was a really specific choice of words on his part and in a way, I never knew of a Nazi punk before that. I sure as fuck came to know them afterwards.

I can remember really clearly during the 80s, when the skinhead thing was really intense, and The Dead Kennedys had played a show where there was this big confrontation with these skinhead guys. Jello and I had come to a real disagreement about how to contend with the situation. We each had our own batch of skinheads in each of our towns, in San Francisco and Washington.

Jello's position was that you had to fight them and beat them out of your city. My position was that was the only language they spoke, so why engage them with the weapons of their choosing? My position was get to know their names and refuse to fight them because if someone's built to fight and you refuse to fight, they get bored and then they leave. Since I think of assholes as a virus, you could line up every fucked up skinhead guy in the city and kill them, there's just going to be another round, you can't stop it, it just takes different forms. I decided that we just needed to get through this with as little bloodshed as possible.

I don't control the venues or the pricing in the venues I play, I control myself. I decide whether or not I'm going to play in those places. That's really the crux of it, with all this stuff. It's really a yes or no, especially with Fugazi, for instance. It wasn't that we had control of the situation, what we had was a giant, big, fucking no. We said no so many more times that we said yes, it would make your head spin. We said no to so many things that you might think were opportunities. We just turned things down left and right because we knew that we would have to be selective if we were to be in a comfortable place for doing what we wanted to do.

This wasn't only after we were popular, by the way. From the very beginning of the band, we said no. For instance, I will never play a show that is not all ages. I don't even go to punk shows in DC that aren't all ages because I think that it is unethical to discriminate against somebody because he or she was born in a certain year and not before it. I think that it is a discouraging and disgusting cave to the alcohol industry. If you can't get into a show because you're not old enough to drink, isn't it kind of obvious what's going on?

The fact that people would let their music, and by extension, music submit to the complete fiction that rock n' roll and music are somehow intertwined is insane. Music has been around forever and longer than the music industry, than the alcohol industry, than alcohol itself. Music was a form of communication that I think probably predates language. How did music become something that you have to go to a bar to see? Something is deeply fucked up with that."

- Thanks to Ian for the interview.

Jamie Stewart

"this is my work space aka studio aka volcano aka hades aka moth orgy aka crammed with cum bath tub.

[Xiu Xiu should be listened to] on an asteroid where there is no oxygen so you do not have to hear it.

traveling makes my mind stop working. i can only make a vague outline of music in a little notebook. later when i get home there is a thick red marker that transfers the little note book idea into the big notebook.

oakland, torino, berlin, los angeles, iowa, sacramento and guantanamo [have inspired Dear God, I Hate Myself]

[i like to listen to music] in a car when i am far away from home but not on tour. i can concentrate but am also inspired by a new place.

la sala rosa in montreal, bowery ballroom in new york, london, the donau festival in krems austria, the lemp art center in st, louis [are my favourite venues]. the people there make a great place to play.

my little studio [inspires me], or at least it had better or i am fucked. it inspires me by always be so THERE all the time waiting for me to use it. it lends itself to writing because i can record my lame ideas there.

[Favourite records to listen to while traveling]

her finest hour by nina simone
the queen is dead by thee smithessssssssss
lamentate by arvo part
air above mountains by cecil taylor
the radio to hear new beats
any record that sounds new even though you have heard it 1000000 times. one needs to be stimulated when one is already being stimulated by newness. drink hot tea on a hot day."

Thanks to Jamie for the interview. Also up at: http://www.xiuxiu.org

Doug McCombs

"These days I guess people mostly listen to music while commuting or walking around doing their daily routine. I would recommend listening to music while sitting in front of the stereo, preferably while looking at the gatefold sleeve that came with the record. Actually, something I prefer to that is listening to music on long road trips (possibly a distance that wouldn't qualify as commuting). Driving is inextricably connected to rock n roll. Wide open spaces, etc seem to make me pay more attention to music.

When I tour on a bus I hardly listen to any music at all. When I tour in a van I listen to lots of music. Television/solo Tom Verlaine, Latin Playboys, Neil Young Zuma, Link Wray, ZZ Top, I like awesome guitars when I'm driving.

The history of [Chicago]and it's culture... is very important to me personally and I'm pretty sure to our band as well. As we've grown and traveled, other places have become important to us also (some more than others), but being in Chicago is our grounding. Chicago has many flaws, but as a place to live and create it is refreshingly low on bullshit and has a strong work ethic. Sometimes good things that happen here are overlooked because Chicagoans bullshit meters are at such a high level that they are loathe to self-promote.

There used to be a venue in Chicago called Lounge Ax. Bad name, great place to play. Friendly staff, good PA, homey feeling. Now there's a place called the Hideout. I like playing in Chicago the best.

I write music sitting in front of the TV. I think zoning out opens my subconscious a little bit or something. Deserts, forests, bodies of water [inspire me]. I like cities too, especially if it's possible to see the layers of history in the place."

Thanks to Doug (via Rowan) for the interview.

Sleeping States

"This picture is of Aldeburgh beach. Aldeburgh is a small fishing town on the east coast of England in the county of Suffolk, where the composer Benjamin Britten lived for many years, with his partner, the tenor Peter Pears. It's also the setting for Britten's opera, Peter Grimes, about a fisherman who is accused of murder. It's one of my father's favourite pieces of music and he took me to visit Aldeburgh several years ago, when I was studying at university in that area of the country. The sculpture in the picture is The Scallop, which was commissioned as a tribute to Benjamin Britten. There's a song on Gardens called On The Beach At Aldeburgh, which recollects the visit with my father, as well as referring to Britten's own music.

I generally listen to music most when I'm walking around. I think because of that I recorded Gardens with headphones specifically in mind, I like the way the music blends in with the acoustics of the environment. There's this album by the band Charalambides called Unknown Spin, which is very sparse and quiet, and I loved listening to that while I walked around as the music blended in so well with the surrounding sounds, rather than blotting it out like a lot of music does. I think I tried to achieve some of that with Gardens.

I think my music is very influenced by my environment. My writing is largely observational, I tend to describe what's around me and go from there. I took some creative writing classes when I was at university years ago, and I discovered I was very much one of those writers whose stories were all description and no plot, and so for me song lyrics seem a good format for my style of writing - I mean, I think I'm more happy writing vignettes than epics.

These days I do tend to listen to music on my ipod most of all - I walk to work so I listen to it a lot then. My record player died over a year ago and in my current place I don't really have room for another one, but I've promised myself that when I move again in the next few months I'll get a new one. I still really enjoy listening to LPs and there are certain records that even though I love them I definitely wouldn't buy or listen to them as mp3s on my ipod. Like Gastr Del Sol or Silver Jews and stuff, I'm not sure why, they just seem better suited to vinyl to me.

[On London and Brighton] It's true that a lot of musicians and artists flock to London to be part of that community, and I thrived in it for several years. But ultimately I think because there are so many musicians and so on trying to get themselves heard, there's this competitive edge that I didn't really like. Making music is a love of mine but it's not a career, and that distinction is very important to me - making music is an end in itself, not a means to achieving something greater, and while its great that people like what I put out, that's never been a driving force. And in Bristol I think the music scene is more in keeping with that mindset, and there is a very supportive and creative scene here. Because the vast majority of the national media is based in London and is predominantly concerned with what's happening on its own doorstep, the regional communities (such as Bristol) seem freer to create without the pressure of trying to get noticed or whatever. Also, there were other reasons for moving to Bristol not related to music, job and so forth - but that seems to cover the creative side of things I guess.

There's a place in Bristol called the Cube Cinema that's really great. It's volunteer run and has one screen that they screen arthouse films and stuff and they also put on bands in the same theatre as the screen is set at the back of a stage. It's really tiny, like I think there's only about 120 seats in there, but there's always a great atmosphere, either playing or watching other bands. I did the Gardens album launch there which was really fun, my drummer and cellist covered the stage in branches and leaves and flowers and things, it looked pretty rural. I saw Carla Bozulich there a few weeks ago and she was amazing.

I am a true bedroom musician, 90% of everything I write (and many of the recordings, certainly the earlier ones) is done there, mainly because I have everything to have here and if I get a musical idea in my head I like to act on it quickly. Also I'm therefore surrounded by my books and record collection and so forth, which really helps to draw on while I'm making music. Although I'm now living with other people again I did live on my own throughout the period of writing and recording In the Gardens of the North, and I was grateful for the space and the opportunity to spread my stuff out a bit.

Because I'm very into recording atmospheres of wherever I'm recording the songs and keeping them in the mixes - I often even put a microphone by the window to capture what's going on outside. So in that way the locations become more than just the place where I made the recordings but an active layer in the recordings. I've always liked music recorded in this way. The Swedish singer Stina Nordenstam's album of covers (People Are Strange) was a very influential album on me when it came out in the late nineties, particularly in terms of recording. It doesn't really fit in with the 'lofi' tag, but it sounds very homemade in parts and she leaves in all sorts of atmosphere recordings throughout the songs. Her cover of Rod Stewart's Sailing gives such a wonderful impression of the room she recorded it in - it sounds like she left the window open."

Thanks to Markland for the interview. Check out Sleeping States here: http://www.sleepingstates.co.uk/

A Sunny Day In Glasgow

"just took a photo at dealy plaza, where jfk was shot. the misfits sing about jfk.

SMCJ was recorded all in my apartment and it was all direct-in. not much space there. but for ashes grammar we did record it in a huge warehouse type place. i feel like this definitely had an impact on things. we were able to experiment alot with sounds and natural reverb and natural harmonics and stuff like that.

I dont think [the place you listen to A Sunny Day In Glasgow] really matters. for me, i like it in headphones, walking around a city in your own little world. probably in the rain.

I love [listening to music] on the train. i love travelling because you have no problems when you are travelling. there's nothing you can do about anything. you just have to get where you are going. so i love to stare out the window and listen to music and forget about my life

i've gotten alot of mileage from my time in scotland and london. it was wonderful to get to live there for a few years. i didnt really write any music in those places, but when i got back i wrote alot about that time. my year in glasgow happened to coincide with alot of really bad things happening in my life and i was pretty depressed there. and then it never occurred to me that it could rain everyday in a place and that the sun might go away one day and not come back for weeks. so when the sun came out it was like taking alot of drugs or something. it was just an intense part of my life and those sunny days were just really special to me. i think scotland is the most beautiful place i've ever been. i am also a fan of Maine.

I live in Sydney now, but the band is in philly and i've spent the rest of my life in philly. it's a great place to live. not too expensive, lots of kids, lots of music. i seem to be only able to write songs in philly too. i am little scared about living in sydney now.

we are on tour now. i am listening to the following alot:

jj #2 by jj
wasp's nest by the 6ths
charm of the highway strip by magnetic fields
the xx
go betweens
shakira
the association"

Thanks to Ben (via Steph) for the interview.

Andrew Kenny (American Analog Set/The Wooden Birds)

"I've always thought that the American Analog Set was great driving music. The Wooden Birds probably fall into that category as well. There's something about quiet repetition that works well with driving because your attention needs to shift from time to time. It's a bit like listening to a conversation, but drifting away for a moment. When you return, you still understand what's happening even though a point has been made and the conversation has moved on a little bit.

I moved back [to Austin] because I thought it would be a good place to start the Wooden Birds project. Now a year an a half later, I'm the only Wooden Bird that lives in Austin and the only shows we've played here have been on tour or at SXSW.

That being said, Austin really is a great place for music. It's an oasis in the middle of Texas, culturally, socially, politically, and geographically. Creative people make music here. People go to shows here. The city as a whole recognizes that music is a part of what makes Austin interesting.

Living in Brooklyn, my favorite place to listen to music was the on subway. In Austin, my favorite place to listen to music is on my bicycle or in the car. If I had to look for a common thread, I'd have to say it's that I most often do these things by myself. Maybe there are times that music is too distracting for conversation. And it can be too personal and sometimes embarrassing to experience that range of emotion when you're with other people.

[On the best venues to play]There are a few. Schubas in Chicago. The Great American Music Hall in SF. The Bowery in NY come to mind immediately. I like the way these venues sound and that's (probably?) important. There are any number of ways that a show can become memorable. Most fall into two categories though. Either your band sounds good there, like the few I mentioned just now or the crowd just makes it a great show. It is an interactive experience, after all. For that reason, I'd have to include the Astra Strube and Tanzhalle in Hamburg where I've played 2 of the most memorable shows of my life.

For me, space in music comes from patience. And patience is one of those virtues that home recordists can afford to have. Take that with a grain of salt, of course, because I've really only been on the DIY side of this particular fence.

Music comes in pieces for me. Guitar at home. Lyrics most often away from home. I don't know why that's always been the case.

My top 5 records from tour this Fall (not including books on cd and mixes) were:

Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix Phoenix
The Dark Leaves Matt Pond PA
Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere Neil Young
Origin:Orphan The Hidden Cameras
3 Rounds and a Sound Blind Pilot"

Thanks to Andrew (via Ever) for the interview.

Memory Tapes

"It amazes me how many people, including my friends, don't listen to music on real speakers or nice headphones anymore. I imagine a lot of people don't give music the time to make the right kind of sense to them and it's a shame. Would you have sex while you watch TV?

I'm from New Jersey, sort of the Pine Barrens area between Philly and the shore. It's a big influence on my writing... the combo of the suburban strip-mall thing that is very NJ and also the giant forrest; I like the hybrid of those elements. My friends and I used to take a boombox down to the beach at night and blast music...that was always a pretty ideal spot. I remember one time in particular we were making our way through the dunes in the dark and listening to "In Search Of Space" by Hawkwind... definitely a good way to hear that record.

I always liked house shows. It just feels more natural to be in someone's living room playing for people all around than to be up on a stage having an awkward conversation with some sound guy you can't really see or hear at the back of the room with a crowd of people at your feet.

[On inspiring places] The basement in my parents house was my room as a kid, it has never changed since the 70s and the decor is very of that era. I always used to love writing down there because I felt sort of out of time, [but] I'll write anywhere. My life is pretty fucked as far as my circumstances, so if I needed some sort of ideal zone to work I'd never get anything done!"

Thanks to Dayve for the Interview.

Mt. Eerie

"This is a photo of Mount Erie.

(Mt Eerie) is a reference to the place, but it's also 2 words that are meaningful to me. "Mount Eerie" to me means, poetically, this looming ominous presence, a dark watcher. This is a feeling I have always been trying to evoke in my "work", and it was much more appropriate a name than "the Microphones". The fact that it was also a reference to an important place for me (I grew up looking at the mountain) was just a bonus.

(On the best place to listen to music) Everything sounds better in headphones, and with the lights off. The less stimulation from the world around you, the more you can get immersed in the world I tried to make in the recordings. But it's a lot to ask, I know, to have people listen so attentively. I'm hoping the album works with more superficial listening as well

(On the trip to Norway) The changes in my personality and ways of thinking that happened in Norway have stayed with me and kept changing in mysterious ways since then. I came back thinking I was going to be this new way forever, but of course I've kept changing as a person. That period in Noway is still significant for me because it was a time of deep quiet and focussing on listening, rather than walking around in the world and blabbing my mouth (releasing albums). I still try to remind myself about the importance of stillness and listening frequently. All this is reflected in my "work".

I like playing in any big wooden room. Churches are often like this. They're nice because they make what's happening inside them feel significant and they're made to sound good. Also, I like the feeling of smuggling my non-religious, vaguely pagan young ceremonies into these buildings. Location affects everything ever. I have only tried recording music in someone else's space a couple of times and it's always felt awkward. For me, recording is a process that happens as part of daily life in my nest-like home place.

I don't know where my musical inspiration comes from. I drove past a construction site recently. They were tearing up a freeway with an enormous machine. It was the loudest sound I've ever heard, and mostly bass. That was inspiring."

Thanks to Phil for the interview.

Tiny Vipers

"every show on tour is really different. i have learned that there is no way to predict how a show will go. sometimes i play in an ideal situation, like a nice quiet sit down place, but i leave the show feeling terrible. or i play in a loud and smokey bar but i walk away feeling good about the show. i think that the context is not always in the venue or city so much. the context of my mindset when i need to get up there and play really effects whether i believe a show is good or not. for example if i am tired from travel and i am not in the mood to be 'expressive' then while i am playing the show i feel like i am forcing an image that is not %100 accurate. when i am tired i am just trying to make it through the set so i can get off the stage. this leaves me feeling incensire after the show. if i am in good spirits then i go up there with a mind set that is more focused on the present, rather then just thinking about getting off the stage and hiding i am just happy with where i am and what i am doing. in this mental place i typically leave feeling fine.

i listen to music alot on the plane. i am trying so hard to block everyone and everything out that i really focus on each song.

(on the best place to record music) alot of recording has to do with the studio you choose and the engineer. i think using the studio/engineer that i choose had a big impact on my mental space when recording the record. i was more at ease because i knew the place and i trusted its equiptment. Andrew Hernandez, the engineer, is a good match for me. i feel like we comunicate on the same level. we can take abstract aproaches to making each song sound right. it is hard to record and not end up killing each song by overthinking each step. Andrew keeps an eye on the whole sound and doesnt get caught up in details. a rare quality with engineers i think.

[i write most of my music] at home usually. it is where all my stuff is and typically where i am most relaxed."

Thanks to Jesy for the interview.

The Clientele

"[This is an image of] Fleet in Hampshire, which is the commuter town I grew up in. It was taken on a winter night 2 years ago and I think it reflects the innate eeriness of the place; you have the isolated house and the sodium lamps in the foreground, and behind and all around is what seems like a huge, empty nothing. That suburban feeling of isolation but simultaneous magic is what a lot of my songs are all about.

[On releasing Bonfires on the Heath in the fall]. I think once you release a record it has to live inside other people's spaces, and it's theirs to make of it what they will. Having said that, it was cool that this record came out round about the time of year which a lot of the songs are lyrically referencing - I get a sense that everybody in the northern hemisphere is on the same page, and that really, genuinely delights me, it's like an experiment which worked, for once!


[On the “heath” in the title] There's a kind of desolate, blasted heath called Blackheath, in London, a few miles walk from the light and civilisation of Greenwich, which always seemed like the end of the world to me. And there's Hampstead Heath in London too, which I visited before writing the songs on this album, one very bright summer day, trying to shake off the effects of a very long-lasting acid trip. I guess all those places combined in my head. Really to me, it's just a haunted space, a waste ground, somewhere large and empty, a lonely place.


[On the inspiration for the songs on the album]. I vividly see the landscape of the countryside and the suburbs in Hampshire, where I grew up, in these songs. These strange in-between places where you can imagine uneasy sort-of faultlines running through the land, mysterious fractures in the continuum. There's a restlessness in that landscape, nothing is permanent, little patches of woods, little streets of new-build houses, and because you can't really seem to grasp anything or divine any real character in these kind of places, you have the perverse impression of them being hyperreal, more real than reality, they're bigger than you can get your head around. I've always said the suburbs were magical, and not in a patronising way, because that's where I'm from and I genuinely love them, but they have a type of weird environmental intensity that's often missing in the city itself.


[On the track, “Losing Haringey]. The events in Losing Haringey pretty much happened to me word for word as they appear in the story, except obviously I did not find myself trapped in a phantom photo - in reality the things around me just inexplicably reminded me of that photo (which does exist in a photograph album I once saw). The benches and the road in the story are just off Wood Green High Road in North East London - the last time I was in the area they were still there, although quite dilapidated now, and the bushes with the pale yellow flowers still grow all over the hill that leads West to Alexandra Palace.

I'm not sure how memory and place interact. Maybe that song was an attempt to explore it somehow, how perhaps memories and places are not stable, they can recur over the years, overlap, or lead back, like snakes and ladders.

[On the best places to listen to music]. I like listening to music on the train, watching drab South London scenery fly by. Especially at this time of the year when there's no light. The feeling of moving past and out of it all -of escape- is very comforting while it lasts.

[On favourite venues]. Floods of sunlight on an outdoor stage at Farnborough 6th Form College, summer 1992. We played to our schoolfriends, it was one of our first gigs and, astonishingly for that time, it sounded terrific. I'm sure we had a go at Graven Wood that afternoon. Over the years the memory of the space and the light has become so idealised in my mind that I doubt I'd recognise it now if I went back to look at it.

[On inspirational places]. One example is Dulwich Wood. This is the wood near my house, which I often run through in the mornings. It’s not that big, but it’s very old, the last remnant of the Great North Wood which once stretched all around South London. It has Victorian ruins, a hidden pond, and lots of criss-crossing trails. Oak and Hornbeam grow there, Byron and Samuel Palmer loved to walk there. I’ve seen it in all seasons and I think it has an objective spookiness. I wrote Harvest Time and Bonfires after walking in this wood. I’ve often had the irrational feeling of being watched there; I’m being melodramatic of course, but it’s a sinister place.

[On whether the recording environment effects the recording]. I tried an experiment with this album, which was to record at a very dead time of year, between Xmas and New Year, when there's no light and everything and everyone is exhausted. I wanted to capture some of that enervated, weightless, strung-out feeling in the music, but I don't think it made any difference. Once you're in the imaginative space you want to be, where you actually are doesn't matter so much.

[On the best environments for writing]. I can write anywhere; again I think once you've got to the mental place where you're inspired and having ideas, your surroundings aren't important. In a way that's the beauty of it, that you can escape from the world for a while, you can negate the world around you."

Thanks to Alasdair for the interview.