Keane - London, UK, Winter 2004
By: Toby L
'When we agreed to do that show as a one-off, the question was whether we'd be able to shift enough tickets so it wouldn't look empty. Four days after it went on sale, it sold out. That was totally amazing...'
Needless to say, coming to terms with one's (impending) notoriety is oft a troublesome feat - especially having spent years in an endeavour to actually attain such recognition in the first place.
With South Coast threesome Keane, however, the limelight wasn't an asset thrust upon them; 'tis merely the fruition and natural consequence after years dreaming and scheming to reach a platform, a pulpit, from which to preach their classically aligned, poignant and moving odes to modern-day wonder, isolation, love, and uninhibited soulful intrigue. Heavy, yes.
And what otherwise wittily wise-cracking drummer Richard remarks upon in the aforementioned is the fact that, after just one ultra limited-edition EP-release (the now pricier-than-a-prosthetic-hip 'Everybody's Changing') and single ('This Is The Last Time', as released, like its predecessor, via holier-than-thou indie-haven, Fierce Panda), the band were able to command an audience sizeable enough to fill an advancing date at the lofty London ULU, weeks in advance.
But, really, is there much wonder how this became the case? Instant radio and media support upon the unleashing of their debut recorded works, and the signing to major-label stalwart Universal-Island were promising signs, while early shows and festival-appearances mustered filled, rampant attendance-spaces. Come the arrival and realisation of how instantly affecting their widespread, first single proper 'Somewhere Only We Know' is, and the potential proves - quite rightly - gargantuan.
What's new, you cynically dismiss? Not necessarily much, though in an age of ruffled, crumpled vintage jackets and sneering, pouting vocals, we have a voice once more - a set of lungs more endowed with gusto and puff than a terrifying crossbreed between Freddie Mercury and James Walsh (in this case, vocalist Tom). And a songwriter/pianist so wilfully unashamed to bear some heart (Tim) that we may well need to pre-order ten crates of Kleenex tissue-boxes to survive the sweeping outcome. Oh, and the songs, naturally - great, big, hammering, immediately endearing, melodious, inviting, hook-laden epics, enlaced with a timeless sense of nostalgia and warmth. A debut-record of the stuff couldn't be any more anticipated.
Yet, when rockfeedback first personally stumbled across the sprightly faced wanderers, all wasn't quite so readying. The place: Oxfordshire. The timeframe: Autumn 2003. The situation: a support-tour with Shack and The Stands. The mood: solemn.
Rich groans. 'Yeah. Well. That was a shit night. The van got broken into and the tyre got slashed, so we were in Oxford until rather later than we would have wished to be.'
'It was the last night of the tour,' smirks Tom, 'and everybody wanted to go home. Mind you, everyone did soon go home, but I stayed... and got absolutely shit-faced. I had to get some bus back the next day. I actually quite enjoyed that.'
'I met someone that night who had seen Radiohead on the same stage at the Zodiac ten years before,' continues Richard, 'and I love hearing about those bands that played in the same places we've played; it makes you think it's possible to do great things. Especially when you're an unsigned act, and there's only five people there - that's something we've done many times. It's important to have that hope.'
Quite. For, if it weren't for such stamina, we wouldn't be graced with Keane's imminent eminence. A band accustomed to the decrepit toilet-circuits of our time, and fleeing band-members - already famously, when the band's guitarist departed, the group remained together a three-piece; just piano, vox and percussion - it's testament that the towel wasn't hurled in violently and sweat-drenched at any stage.
'We felt it (music) was the best way we expressed ourselves, quite simply,' justifies the singer. 'I was doing a degree at university, and the others are a bit older and had done a degree, but they were in London and said, 'Why don't you come down; let's make a go of the band,' and I said, 'Fine, I'll chuck it in.' That was simply because there was no point carrying on what was effectively a stopgap when all I really wanted to do was be in a band. So I packed my bags, and down I came.
'I think we've never lost that dream everyone has when they're a little kid that you want to be in a band, and that you want to sing or play an instrument.'
He beams. 'I don't think we've ever really grown up, being honest.'
Richard concurs. 'I can remember a friend of mine saying, 'It's amazing you're still in a band; everyone else I know grew out of that years ago.' But we just never did.'
'The process of having been together for a long time has definitely shaped our music and helped us become more professional, and definitely more focussed - just us being able to put our point across and making the songs immediately more attractive,' explains Tom, noting that their years in the wilderness were an integral factor in rising to the stature they're presently enjoying. 'The knock-downs and the troubles that we've had have helped inform the way we'll do things in the future.
'We've constantly evolved and changed as a band,' he details. 'We used to have guitars, we used to do something you could probably describe as sub-Radiohead, as it was from around that period. And you take all these influences and these new songs, and whatever it is, you draw on it, and it helps to form what you become. I think we've got something that is quite unique, and songs that stand out, and a strong voice as well. That's something we've worked hard to get, rather than us having been plying it for years. I mean, we were crap when we started. So hopefully we're not as crap now as we were then.'
The room laughs, but for all of the band's apparent confidence, seemingly, there's an admirable air of self-knowing which may well have inspired the consensus to succeed.
But the mission: what ideas and thoughts are Keane trying to get across to music-fans?
'Hopefully as much positive stuff as possible,' slowly retorts the nobly eloquent Tim. 'I was thinking the other day how there seems to be a trend to be very aggressive in music at the moment, particularly lyrically. I don't know why that is; if you talk about something like punk, when that started in a genuine way, that was obviously very angry music. But, now, that sort of aggression has become a style-thing. And I find it quite scary, because it's very negative. I think we're much more about encouraging people to think about communication and sympathy, and honesty.'
So does such tact win you guys the ladies, through playing the 'Hey, we're soft guys' card?
More polite laughter.
'I don't know,' guffaws Richard. 'I guess it depends what kind of lady you're after. Some of them like a bit of a rocker. We don't have guitars, so we can't do stage-diving, or play piano with our teeth. If we were to throw a piano into the crowd, it'd take two of us to lift it - and it'd have to be coordinated very well. The sustain-pedal is also taped to the stage, so we'd have to untape that... It'd be a nightmare.'
Tom nods. 'It would not be rock 'n' roll, that's for sure.'
Returning to the topic in-hand, Tim proceeds. 'I think the pressure of 'cool' is quite a hard thing for bands to get over. It's easy for a band to adopt a style because they think it'll get them somewhere - and, sadly, that often seems to work. It's unfortunate that such a formula that's passed on over the years is a way of doing things. But, hopefully, there are bands out there that are trying to speak from the heart, I suppose. There always are.'
'I think it's ridiculous to think that, by writing in the way that we do, our music is namby-pamby, because it really isn't,' starts Tom on the ingenuousness of their material. 'The things we deal with in our songs are things that are quite hard more than anything else - events that everyone has experienced. The best period of The Beatles, in my opinion, was when they were really speaking from the heart - songs like 'And Your Bird Can Sing', tracks that were directly about events from John Lennon's life, or Paul McCartney's life, drawing on things that they're experiencing and being open and honest about it, and I don't see why we can't do that as well.'
Your ideal initial reactions from possible fans to your material, then?
'Well,' Tom addresses, stern-faced, 'hopefully, they think it sounds like Meat Loaf.'
Tim sniggers before adding his say. 'Like Tom says, when you get a band like us, some people can think it might be a bit namby pamby, but we don't see what's wrong with having an album that's full of quite ponderous music. Having said that, we feel the album is quite rock in places, and it's nice to have songs you have to tap your foot to and nod your head to, rather than smoking away a long cigarette to; it's not like just one single, and a few other songs.'
'There are quite a lot of singles on there, or single-y songs,' outlines Tom. 'We're having great difficulty, in fact, just choosing which songs will be released as singles. A lot of them are upbeat or up-tempo, or sing-along, moments.'
Tim becomes contemplative. 'There are a few emotional instances, where it's quite slow and thoughtful, but I think we all love songs where you get excited when they start - songs with a pounding beat. I don't know, but I keep thinking of an album such as 'Achtung Baby', when you've got something such as 'The Fly'... It's just so...'
'Well, there's the tambourine,' deadpans Richard. 'It's crucial.'
And, lyrically - the very second that ideas are spawned and then rounded - does the band possess an ideal as to how they wish their collective vision to transmit to an audience?
Referring to other interviews conducted throughout the course of the afternoon (this is, after all, one of the last slots in an all-day chat-fest - known as 'press days' - that the band have incurred), Richard provides a previously illustrated example as part of the answer.
'We've been asked whether 'Somewhere Only We Know' is about a specific place,' he begins, 'and Tim has been saying that, for him, or us as individuals, it might be about a geographical space, or a feeling; it can mean something individual to each person, and they can interpret it to a memory of theirs... It's perhaps more of a theme rather than a specific message... Feelings that may be universal, without necessarily being totally specific to us, or a place, or a time...'
The introspection is cut mid-flow, as entrants to the meeting-space are introduced. They're offering to buy the band some food. Eyes light up. Mars Bars and crisps are ordered, while Rich gets barked at when he requests, quite camply, 'A Flake.'
Tim rolls his eyes ashamedly. 'These are our equivalent of drugs.'
Yet, lads, aside from the snacks involved - why music as an artform?
'I think listening to music allows you to imagine so much more,' considers Tom, glancing upwards. 'When you watch a film, you're within certain limitations, because visually/sonically you're being given everything. But when you listen to something musical, if it's got great lyrics and great melody, and a great soundscape, there's so much your mind can do, and so many places your mind can explore. I think a lot of my favourite albums are when you get a heady combination of all those kinds of things, and you're really allowed to run wild from an imagination point-of-view.'
'Musically too,' expands Tim, 'I'd like to think that we're a band of substance rather than style or image, basically, and that we can really mean something to people, where there's a direct communication without any nonsense in between... I think that's the most important thing.'
And plans to maintain such beliefs and notions?
'Hopefully, we'll just develop,' shrugs Tom. 'I think that's one of the nice things in a way - not trying to predict which way things are going to go. And hopefully, we'll get affected by different influences that will shape the way we do things.
'Even with just three people, there are so many variations on what you can do, and what instruments you can play. We're very open to the idea of experimenting with different stuff, and we always enjoy our time in the studio. But we will evolve and change, as there's no point getting stuck in the same place... The bands we all love and respect are those that progressed over the course of several albums, and have really gone somewhere and voyaged in different directions. And hopefully we can do that as well. Unlike Oasis.'
'... But like Madonna,' adds Richard instantly.
'It'd be lovely to feel a part of people's record-collections,' wraps up Tom, 'and it'd be wonderful to make a classic album one day; that's definitely the main thing to aspire to.'
From sounds of airings thus far, Keane's admirably straightforward ambitions look set to immerse themselves very, very immediately indeed. Take heed, good listeners; the quiet revolution begins here - and shan't be drawing to a close for some aeons yet. Mercifully.
Artists in this article: Keane