Shack - Oxford, UK, Autumn 2003
By: Toby L
Tragedy strikes. Moments before their rockfeedback interview, singer of Shack Mick Head is concerned over the worrisome lack of dressing-room facilities. 'Where's the f**king bottle-opener,' he whimpers, a hearty Scouse drawl booming off all four corners of the space, hands clutching a woefully sealed beer-bottle. Stood next to him guffawing, brother John - guitarist of the band - looks on, suckling from his own previously unlocked Kronenbourg.
Yet, like most things with northern UK troubadours Shack, this is hardly the first setback in a fateful career. Theirs is a tale of stricken calamity on a gradual and regular basis - stemming from record-label bust-ups, implausibly high indulgences in chemical-additives, and - even more disturbingly - untimely death (original bassist Chris McCaffrey of their then-named Pale Fountains the victim of a brain-tumour around fifteen years back).
Returning to the dressing-room scene, though, and a second glance to Mick's beer placed on the corner of a table shows that - unfathomably - the lid has been removed. But how? A moment's confusion is soon set aside for relief, however, as Mick - smilingly - swigs from his vice.
And this miraculous, positive change in proceedings similarly mirrors the band's own musical progression - continually driven from out-of-nowhere saving-graces that prompt them to continue. Despite the taxing ills and injustices of the past, the Heads have persevered tightly, turning in quiet classics amidst every facet of their tempestuous legacy - namely, 1999's 'HMS Fable', and this year's return-LP, the downbeat introspection of 'Here's Tom With The Weather', an acclaimed project that arrived after the 'saving-grace' aid of concert-promoter and management-guru, Simon Moran, who financed and unleashed the release through his North Country imprint.
So, naturally - aside from the occasional alcohol-crisis - things are healthy and stealthy within the Shack camp these days. This afternoon, they leisurely slouch on sofas - inclusive of bassist Guy Rigby and drummer Iain Templeton - and recount on a thus far successful, emotional UK tour.
'We had a good old break after leaving London (Records),' highlights Mick, explaining their absence following the release of 'HMS...' four years back. 'We just set up our own camp, and wrote and rehearsed and recorded... Making an album ('Here's Tom...'), we just concentrated and went somewhere really out of the way - North Wales - with all the songs really worked out. That was that. For me, personally, it was a real privilege to be once again in that position... Coming on tour also, it's been so good and exciting to be back out there...
'Because we haven't done gigs for a while, the fans, to me, have been amazing; one of the first gigs we did was in Glasgow, and I was nervous as shit. We didn't know how people would react. But people were so positive and responsive - it really blew my mind, for starters, so it's been really f**king good. As it's progressed, I wanna do good for them - they're there, putting their heart and soul into it, and they know we're doing the same, and we should all just make sure everyone's happy... If you're gonna throw your heart in, we wanna make sure it's a two-way vibe.
'Sometimes, we f**k up, though. But the crowd are pretty consistent in their support, yet we aren't in our performance... But it's part of the course...'
He halts himself in his tracks. 'Jesus, you'd think I was Lemmy, wouldn't you, from the way I speak, as if it was sixty-three gigs in?! Haha, it's only actually nine...'
Even though the back-pay due, it's a marvel that the group themselves feel so 'privileged' to remain in their stature; if anything, it's the rest of the world that owes them a break... How does the birthing process of their material originate, though - just where does it come from?
'When we actually get down to the nitty-gritty,' smiles Mick, 'the process is usually that we all just write songs, and have individual ways that we want to get our music together; we've got a base of jazz that we all come from, and I think that comes out in the songs sometimes, when we feel an urge to develop them.'
'The jazz can act a basis when you're just jamming,' elaborates Iain, 'we've just had one during that sound-check (for tonight's show) there, and it's necessary; like kicking a ball against the wall if you're a footballer. The whole thing is a big lump of heart, let alone all the other expertise that goes in... To me, as the drummer, hearing a new song, it's almost like the part's been written for me already - without being a prick, I think the continuity that exists in the music, no matter the theme, is down to that sheer soul. That even goes right back to the first album.'
'I always think the lyrics are good, obviously,' laughs Mick. 'But, for me as a writer, you can only get wiser as you get older; I might be getting stupider, I don't know. But I know if anyone turned around to me and said, 'What the f**k does that lyric mean,' then I know it'd be the time to stop, you know? Or at least evaluate what we're doing.'
Relevantly to now, 'Here's Tom...' appears to exist in an age of equally inspired, Liverpudlian musos.
'Our sound is still very current, but people are able to acknowledge the influence,' agrees Iain. 'I mean, we've been doing this for donkeys, haven't we?'
Mick nods rigidly. 'In my experience in Liverpool during the years, there's been a bit of snobbery of bands coming through, and not helping each other out... But, for me, it's been totally energizing to see the likes of The Stands and The Coral, The Bandits...'
'It's all via the Bandwagon (The Bandits-run club-night), isn't it,' questions Templeton. 'This whole collective thing, not a rivalry - everyone else helping each other out... That's how it seems.'
'It's unreal,' excites Mick, 'you've got all these great groups under the same banner, and we haven't really had that for fifteen years in Liverpool. We've had little bits and pieces - some major bands, too, but sporadically - but there's never been a vibe, or a breeding-ground.'
Silent until now, John speaks for the first time. 'It seems like they all know what they're doing, as well. In the past, a band's taken off and all the record-labels head off up to Liverpool, and they'll sign to anyone, and then it goes wrong. But - now - everyone's ready, and they're not getting pulled this way or that way; they're all quite stubborn about what they want to achieve. The attitude is 'take this, or f**k off',' and that's really enjoyable to watch.'
'But saying that,' Iain details, 'there is now an infrastructure in Liverpool for that set-up; they've been having seminars about getting yourself together, knowing how to manage yourself, for at least the past five years or so - even longer, but not as prevalent. And it's really worked - people are clued up. What do young people want when they're in a band? 'Well, you smoke draw and you write songs,' most would say - but there's obviously a lot more to it. They seem to have all that behind them; setting that Bandwagon thing up - they're pooling in all their resources... probably even lending each other guitars.'
Mick provides an imaginary scenario to demonstrate the ambience of the place. 'Bands will get made whilst people are in the audience watching other bands:
'What do you play?'
'Oh, er, bass.'
'Right, come on then - let's go for it.'
'There's a scene in cafes and bars,' adds John, 'where everyone goes - a very music and art-orientated scene, where you're guaranteed to bump into someone and something could start up. Of course, it's not across all parts of town, but definitely in certain areas.'
'It's like what people thought about Liverpool when The Beatles were happening, or - later on - The Bunnymen, or Teardrop, or our band,' Mick continues, still excited by the thought. 'But all our interviews back then, people would say, 'So, what's happening in Liverpool,' and we'd just respond, 'Erm, well, there really isn't anything that remarkable...' There were no rehearsal-rooms, no gigs - it was a myth. Seeing the likes of those bands and the energy up there now has totally inspired me.'
Less inspiring is Mick's next move; whilst crossing his legs, he provides rockfeedback with a distressing rendition of the 'Basic Instinct' interrogation-scene (Scouse style), revealing a sizeable hole in his denims in the process. He blushes and apologises with convincing embarrassment.
'We've just always tried to record songs the way we're happy to hear them; it hasn't always been that easy,' side-lines John. 'In the 80s when we were making music, if you wanted an acoustic guitar, real drums, real bass, the people you'd be working with would say, 'Here's synthetic drums, here's synthetic bass,' and that was a real f**king battle. No matter how much you fight it, it affects you; so, nowadays, like with 'Here's Tom...', we've been able to go in and lay down our sound as we've wanted, and the style still stands up in today's climate.'
'There's been no tomfoolery this time 'round,' backs up Iain. 'No messing about... No compromising...'
John is even more explicit. 'As soon as major-labels come on the scene, in my experience, so many people are involved, so many of them trying to justify their job, and that interfering hinders the whole creative process. You can either let things like that do your head in at the time, or you can just get on with 'em, or f**k off and just change the situation. When we do music, all we ask for is that we do it the way we want it to sound. There's no point in anyone else telling me how to make our songs.'
And what emotions do yourselves hope to fulfil within your material?
Mick is visibly baffled. 'The songs that we do, they're quite... what's the word?'
John sniggers, 'Ambiguous?'
Mick: 'Haha - that's a good'un!'
John: 'Nah, the only reason I say that, is because - after gigs, when people come up to you - every person says a different thing, but you can only ever do what you think's right.'
'The songs are diverse as well,' his sibling continues. 'We've got this capacity where, it's a not conscious thing... we could have ten or twelve songs down, and it's quite different ends of the spectrum... I would hope that you went through a lot of different emotions when listening to us.'
'You definitely get... involved listening to the band,' ponders Iain.
Mick suddenly assesses their group-retorts. 'I don't know if that sounds f**king crap, but those seem to be the answers.'
What next for the band, though; from the mid-80s to now, and umpteen albums past, what's still in their sights?
'My girl's having a babe, so I'm gonna get stuck into that for a few months,' addresses Mick, with an amusing way of interpreting the situation, 'but, January, we may get together and look to making another album. Luckily, the fella that's put out our album is quite happy with the way that things are going, and because he's come down to us with a base-level, 'Do you want to make an album? Right, I'll put the money forward,' approach, it's just happened beautifully.'
Seeing the conversation reaching its crux, Head becomes contemplative and warm. 'It's been refreshing, because it just hasn't happened like that for us - there's always been middle-men, and deals, and corporate-shit. This time, and now, it's been respectful, and the way it should be.'
The man may not be able to open drinks properly, but, in this case, he speaks no word of a lie.
Artists in this article: Shack