Last month, as part of the Glamorama Classics series, I did a piece on Swervedriver's LP "Mezcal Head". Much to my surprise, Swervedriver's drummer Jez got in touch to say how much he appreciated the feature. It was a great honor, to say the least. But even more surprising was that Jez agreed to sit down with me during my recent visit to London, in order to break his silence on the state of the band.
One of the most criminally underrated bands of the 90s, the band was founded by lead singer/guitarist Adam Franklin and guitarist Jimmy Hartridge. Originally signed to Alan McGee's Creation Records in the UK, and licensed to A&M in the US, they released their debut "Raise" as well as the aforementioned "Mezcal Head". Jez joined the group in the time between the two albums, after the band's first drummer Graham Bonner went AWOL at Canadian customs while Swervedriver were on tour.
The band was often the victim of label mismanagement, a tragic state of affairs that no doubt played a hand in their demise. Their blinding third album "Ejector Seat Reservation" received little-to-no promotion in Britain and has never been released domestically. After being signed and dropped by Geffen before they could even release an album, the band returned with "99th Dream" in 1998 on the now-defunct American independent Zero Hour. It was to be their last full-length release.
Besides the opportunity to sit down with one of my musical heroes, I thought the interview could serve a higher purpose: to restart the dialogue on a band that truly deserves a greater level of recoginiton, and hold out the prospect that the Swervedriver backcatalog might some day see a proper reissue including bsides, demos, and live numbers.
Jez struck me as an optimistic, artistically driven individual who is just as enthusiastic about making music today as he was during Swervedriver's heyday.
Glamorama: Was it at all intimidating for you to step in after Graham, who was also a terrific drummer?
Jez: No not really, because I’m a totally different sort of player. I went down to the studio at EMI, and they were demo-ing what became "Harry and Maggie" and what became "Duress" with drum machines--interesting recordings (laughs). A few days later, when I tried out for them, I walked in and Adam and Jim were looking really forlorn. They had forgotten to bring their pedals...and that's a truck's worth (laughs)...so we sat around for ages waiting for these pedals. Finally we tried to do "Kill The Superheroes" without bass, and I don't know if you've ever heard the song without drums and bass but it's like ffffaaaaooowoowwwwowowowowowwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, pretty much. So I didn't know where the hell we were. But I guess it worked out.
In the end we did Mezcal Head without a bass player, which was fine, because Adam and Jim are both really good bass players. I was looking at the demos the other day. I think people would be interested in that sort of thing. There’s a real sense of spontaneity about those recordings.
G: It seems like today there's a lack of ambition, of bands wanting to push things forward. Like it's adequate to just emulate great music, rather than take it somewhere else. When you were playing, was there some sense of mission?
J: Every sound had to be questioned. Like “is there another way to present this argument?” Take the sound and twist it...even if you end back where you started. We used to call Adam and Jimmy the “the man with two brains” because of the way they played together, interweaved, seemingly without conscious thought.
This is a true story: we were playing one of those arenas with the Pumpkins (in '93) and Jimmy was down in the dressing room playing something, I walked up to the stage and Adam was playing something really quietly - it was the same thing, but it was a counterpoint.
People understate the importance of Jim's guitar parts. The really strong riffs, they're mainly Jim.
G: You did a lot of engineering work with Swervedriver, now you're focusing on producing. How did/do you approach the recording process?
J: With Swervedriver generally there was always some other way of approaching something. Even if it's a shaker. Instead of using a shaker, hit the shower door! There's a shower near the control room...let's mic it up! When we were recording "Last Train To Satansville", we had a Harley Davidson in the studio with four mics on it. We recorded with a mic next to each of the cylinders and a mic next to each of the pipes.
As a producer, the main part of my job is to remove stuff, just strip it back to the basic elements. The drums, for example, don't need to be ‘stand alone’ interesting. The hardest thing to do is to just play quarter notes. Every week a band comes to me and overplays. If all you do is rehearse and talk about where you're going to be in two years, you're going to end up with this cram-jam of parts where the essence of the song is hidden. Some bands think there's a need to impress with individual virtuosity & technique. It almost comes from desperation, you know what I mean? But it’s bullshit. For me, dynamics are the key. My whole thing is just trying to get dynamics back into the song. To get the song to breathe.
I think if you can learn some fundamentals of recording on your own, and then take what you’ve learned with you to a bigger studio... and don't change the game, then you’ll be much happier with the results. If the engineer tells you 'this is how I want it', tell him you know how you want it, and do it that way. And you'll up the ante. You'll do really good recordings, but better. With the technology available now I think in a basement you can do the basis of your tracks, and then take them to a studio, and use a really nice mic for vocals. Or a really shit mic! Some of my favorite recordings are like that...I'm totally into picking up gear at junk shops – every piece of kit has a sound, so I reckon it’s worth a few bucks here and there to see if you can find some interesting ones.
At the end of the day, the old recording techniques are still valid. If someone plays a harmonica, put it through an amp and mic it up. And if you want it to sound reverb-y, put the amp in a big room and move the mic away from the fucking amp! Simple as that. Even with programming, I work from the fundamental principles of recording: “if you put shit in, you get shit out”. I guess in some ways I'm a luddite.
The studio environment is almost a narcotic in its own sense. You're kind of in a dream state. You can shut the door, tell reception “no calls!” and leave the real world for a while. I tried reality a while back – I wasn’t into it…
G: Swervedriver was always a strong live band. Many would probably argue even better than on record. What was touring like with the band?
J: Everybody on tour knew what their job was. You never had to give someone a bollocking if they did something wrong. The person would know. Like if I fucked something up, or the lighting guy, or Adam, or whoever...why tell 'em? Cause they know man. That's the way it should be. Some bands forgot that and kind of went "I'm better than you". Well join a different band, you know what I mean? Do something else!
(Members of our road crew) still say that touring with the Swervies was the best touring that you could do because it was a real ‘gang’. Getting into the bus with those tinted windows was like travelling the World in a huge set of sunglasses. It was all about playing.
We're very different people, but we were all there for one reason - music. Soundchecks were often the best part of the day, because you could have a musical conversation. We did the Sydney Metro back in 1995...the midnight show was one of the great shows for me...you know like when you're playing and everything you imagine happens effortlessly? And I remember listening and thinking "This band is really good", and then I realized I was in it! The soundcheck that day...was kind of like...there was an apology required for an argument the night before. And we had this jam, and the jam was kind of like the apology. Music was our way of communicating.
G: When there's this balance within the group, doesn't it, at the same time, make the group more susceptible to outside pressures like Creation dropping the band, or the issues with Geffen?
J: I think initially they actually bonded us a little bit more. When it first happened we had an attitude of "Fuck You" and it strengthened our resolve. Every time it happens, let's not mess about, it hurts. When you're really, really proud of the work you've done and you hand it over and then the record company dumps you, it’s a kick in the teeth. That album is the most personal statement you can make; it's like your most intimate secrets. After a while it takes its toll. Then you just think, should we bother with this?
In '98, we decided about two thirds of the way through the year that we were going to get to the final show (in Margaret River, Australia) and then stop doing it. We were working so hard and felt like we weren’t getting anywhere. That year I was splitting up with my first wife as well. Everybody had issues, things going on in their lives. And we weren't making any money or selling any records. It was great to go on tour, but we had toured a lot by then. There's got to be a reason for touring. We could quite happily be in a rehearsal room just playing great music. The downside outweighed the up. We just couldn't deal with it. No matter how strong you think you are, everyone's human in the end...everybody's vulnerable.
G: It seemed like timing had a lot to do with it. That time in the record industry was a particularly troubled one with mergers, labels downsizing their rosters, etc. At the same time, the internet hadn't really developed. I think for a band like Swervedriver, at the level you guys were, there would be a stronger support structure now and the band could somehow keep going.
J: For sure. At the time, Creation would get a big wad of money from A&M for licensing us. As soon as we got dropped in America, we were no longer bankrolling other bands at Creation, so we had no valid use. Their press campaign for Ejector Seat Reservation was pretty much one quarter page advert in the NME. It was a shame. I don't think Alan McGee really wanted that to happen...
G: I remember being an American fan before the internet took off, and after Mezcal Head it seemed like you guys just vanished. I didn't even realize you had released a third album ("Ejector Seat Reservation") until years after it came out.
J: There were a couple of key moments. If Ejector Seat had been released in America, I think the timing wouldn't have been bad for it. There was enough radio interest; some good songs on the album, and a lot of people who had started at college radio and had moved on to alternative commercial radio were into us. When it didn’t come out in the US we just kind of lost momentum. Even when 99th dream came out, unfortunately it wasn't as good a record, but you could still see the support in the run up to that. People were prepared to give us a chance.
We always said we didn't sell a lot of records because all the people who really liked us were in the industry and they got the music for free!
G: I wrote about this in my original feature on "Mezcal Head", but you know Ride had a pretty nice box set released recently with a greatest hits disc, a live concert, a b-side collection. I always thought Swervedriver were the superior band. I'm not sure what it takes to have something like that released.
[Update--The compilation "Juggernaut Rides" was released in 2005]J: It doesn't take much. It's just the recurring theme with us of the lack of talking. I haven't spoken to Jim, not for any other reason than I haven't spoken to Jim. He's got a lovely family, he's a lovely bloke. Steve lives outside of London now. Seems really happy, but has no aspirations to do more Swervedriver music. Adam’s doing his thing and I’m producing & running a business. Christ! How grown up does that sound? I might have to get into Jack Daniels again!
G: At the end of it, you had decided to hang it up. What I've read from Adam in interviews--maybe he's doing it for the fan's sake--but it seems like it's an open proposition that the band could come back at some point. Talking with you however I don't really get that impression.
J: That's a tricky one. I look on the website (
www.swervedriver.com) every month or so just to see what's going on. I think it probably helps Adam with gigging and what he's doing to kind of perpetuate the myth. I'd say 'never say never'. At the same time, I turned 38 a few weeks back. You know. Rock ‘N' Roll for old people...
Sometimes I've thought - for the fans’ sake - someone should just say "we're not going to do any more stuff, or we are, or whatever "...but it's typical again with us...we used to have meetings where none of us would really talk. I can't see it myself. Let's be realistic about it.
I guess ultimately the best way to think about it is that I’m incredibly proud of what Swervedriver achieved and the music they made. It was truly an honour to play with those people. The passion and loyalty of our fan base never ceases to amaze me. I often get a flash of a memory and smile to myself – that show in Chicago, playing on the roof of RRR in Australia, doing Duress at Reading (Festival ’93) as the sun went down... But you have to move on. I don’t want to feel like the drummer in my own tribute band for Christ’s sake! I’m into what’s happening now, here, today. I just produced an album for a band called Cardboard Cowboy and that’s where it’s at for me. New bands. New music. New ideas. Then again, I’d never say “never”.
Another beer?
:::If you're interested in getting in touch with Jez regarding his work as a producer, please email him at
badearth@btinternet.com. I also recommend checking out his new book "Rider" at
http://www.lulu.com/browse/book_view.php?fCID=508316:::
Labels: features, interviews, mp3, swervedriver
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