Matter Magazine
January/February 1985
Inside The Paisley Mind
Interview by Angela Carlson and Jim Walsh
I've decided that the whole record business assumes that any record released must have a haircut, a pose, or an image to go with it to be successful. And then lyrically you're often preaching to the converted. I can't see any point in continuing. I can't be bothered. Now any music that I do I just want to keep to myself. "Eaten By Her Own Dinner" is my way of saying goodbye. But watch out for Luthor Paisley.
--Robyn Hitchcock on his retirement from the music business, Melody Maker, 1982.
Robyn Hitchcock (AKA Luthor Paisley) is back. Hitchcock recently broke out of his self-imposed retirement with the hauntingly personal acoustic album, I Often Dream Of Trains, featuring his most mature vocal work to date. It was two years ago last month that Hitchcock released what was to have been his swan song, "Eaten By Her Own Dinner", after which he quietly slipped under the waves without so much as a ripple. Keeping a low profile, he's been working on his cartoons and the acoustic ditties that have since turned up on Trains.
Hitchcock ignores trends: just a guitar manned by a mind that rapidly builds and sidetracks on what the uninitiated assume to be drug-inspired ramblings, only to implode on odd, microscopic details. His clever Pop melodies -- coupled with dark, eccentric lyrics -- sidestepped so-called movements such as "The New Psychedelia" in Britain, and preceded the guitar-band "Paisley Revolution" here.
Hitchcock and his band, the criminally underrated Soft Boys, were more or less ignored by the press. It was this lack of public recognition -- as well as the gap between his original conceptions of songs and how they actually sounded on vinyl -- that caused Hitchcock to hang up his guitar. Until now.
During a near-midnight phone call (London time) with Matter, Hitchcock sipped tea, lager, or scotch; and offered his insights into everything from malicious dwarves to the internal working of his own mind, "inasmuch as a mind can discuss itself".
When you were quoted in Melody Maker as saying you'd given up music, were you disappointed with music at the time or with your reception?
I'm surprised you saw that over there, actually; that's about two years back, now. I was just very tired basically. Sort of, physically tired and mentally tired...every so often you just wear out for a bit, don't you? So it was quite good to stop for a bit.
Did you stop playing completely, or were you still working on the acoustic material?
Yeah, I was playing at home. I was still doing stuff a lot -- I was playing guitar when you rung up. I was tired then, as you probably read my comments about...I can't stand by them all. But there's this point where you haven't really got enough energy to keep going with things...uh, and I wanted to get a certain number of people off my back as well.
Record company people? Business types?
All sorts of people...window cleaners and submariners (and people like that).
Especially the submariners....
Well, just a few. I was being plagued by submariners, so I figured the only thing to do was to feign a certain amount of invisibility.
Did you lay low for a while?
Well, I went outside and I took the flag down, and then I put the shutters up, and I sat inside with a blunderbuss for six months. Every time somebody, sort of, came to the mailbox, I'd fire a warning shot...I didn't get anyone, 'cause one night I was asleep and the submariners came down the chimney. I was dozing off in my chair, and when I woke up, the submariners had surrounded me. So they tied me up, and they ran away and thought they were very smart, y'know, leaving me.
How'd you get loose?
How did I get loose? Well, they tied me up with newspaper...it was very feeble, newspapers and strings. I wasn't tied up; I was wrapped up in a parcel -- I was asleep. So I just had to kick myself out and take the address off. And when I woke up, I found I'd been mailed somewhere else.
Somewhere awful?
No, it wasn't too bad. I was in a new house and I had another guitar -- not really a better guitar: it just had different strings on it. There was a dwarf by what we call the "fridge" in England, and the dwarf says [nasally dwarfish voice], "Oh, I know all about you. When's your next record coming out?" And I said, "Leave me alone, dwarf, I'm tired." He says, "Oh no, I'll never leave you alone." So I said, "Get thee behind me dwarf." He stood behind me for a while, and he said, "I'll only stay behind you if you make another record." So, I made another record to keep the dwarf behind me.
Does "Furry Green Atom Bowl" have to do with the dwarf?
"Furry Green Atom Bowl" is to do with eggs, really. To do with the cycle of life. You know, all this theory of subatomic worlds and how this world -- if you shrink down to the smallest thing you can ever do...did you used to read The Atom (an American comic)? Well, right down there. If you shrink right down, you can fall between worlds. It's quite possible that we make up -- this solar system makes up -- one atom. The whole thing might be part of someone's kitchen table. And the reason people can't see beyond the end of the universe is 'cause that's where the table stops.
Are you quite a perfectionist in the studio? On "Uncorrected Personality Traits", from the latest album, the harmonies are perfect. How long did it take you to do that?
It's nice of you to say so. I did that record in three days. I recorded in three days -- there's quite a few outtakes -- and we mixed it in another two days. I wanted to keep the budget really low, and I did. We did it for something like £1,200. When you think that Thomas Dolby spends forty, fifty, sixty thousand...we kept it down, and I was pleased with it. I'm not at all a perfectionist, but I've got a little machine at home...a little portable studio. You know, a four-track. It's actually called a Fostex, which
is about the size of...
A table top?
You can fit it on a television. It's the same size as the Empire State Building if the Empire State Building were shrunk down to the size of a Fostex. And it's easier than having a portable Empire State Building, 'cause you can mix on it. I arranged that "Personality Traits" stuff at home. Sort of, worked them out. 'cause it was only me. You see, there was no band; I wasn't with anyone at the time. I used to go and play on [Captain] Sensible's records if he asked me. Otherwise I was completely by myself for the last couple of years, so I got used to multi-tracking myself (or whatever). So I had practiced the record (but not much).
Your lyrics are so unique that people can't help wondering, "What is Robyn Hitchcock like?" Do you have this alter ego that writes songs? And do you have a "traditional" life...kids or anything?
Oh yeah, I've got kids. You know, we're just a nice, happy, quiet pair of people; and we've got nice, happy, quiet kids...there's something howling outside... [pauses] Oh, it's stopped. Good. Ah...you know, I've got two cars -- neither of which starts.
Two cars?
Yeah. Well, they're old cars; they're not expensive cars. And I've got some old guitars; I live in an old house...I lead what you call a very normal life, and I'm a very normal person. I can't think of any other way to describe it. I think I've just got a, kind of...
Vivid imagination?
Possibly. No, I've just got a lot of tendrils in my mind. My mind crystallized very rapidly; it forms branches very quickly. It's like a little railway system which is always looking for somewhere else to colonize. It branches very restlessly from one thing to another, and then it all collapses and it comes back to where it was. I don't know. It's like a little composite in my head -- that's a better way of describing it. Sort of, rapid fertilization -- like a jungle. Things grow very fast, and then they die quickly, and they rot down and new things grow very quickly. And they come bursting out like a speeded up film of a tropical forest. Inasmuch as a mind can discuss itself...it's a bit like a mirror looking at itself. Only I don't know how much truth there is in that: you put two mirrors up against each other, and there's infinity. But you can never see it, 'cause your head blocks it off. But if you could put a tiny eye inside one of the mirrors, you could see ininity, because you could see the bounceback. Unfortunately, it gets darker, so you need a very strong torch. So I mean, that describes it perfectly.
Many of the songs, like "Flavour of Night", seem a little John Lennon-influenced. Are you a Lennon fan?
Oh yeah. Always have been. That song is a bit like "One Day At A Time", on Mind Games. It goes [crooning] "Youuu", and that's very similar to "Flavour of Night". You only have to double-track yourself and put "Play Echo" on, and you sound like...well, we used to do "Cold Turkey" (which was obviously a Lennon song), but I could never put things as simply as John Lennon -- nor have I been shot yet.
Where were you when he was shot? Do you remember that day?
I was recording a song called "The Lizard" -- or it might have been "I Watch The Cars". I think it was. The studio was locked for hours, so we stayed in the cafe. I'd heard the news just before I came out, and I couldn't believe it. I was there with a couple of guys: Kimberley, Matthew, and Vince from the Psychedelic Furs. And Vince said, "Why couldn't they have shot Richard Butler
instead?" And then Pat Collier turned up at the studio, and he didn't say anything at all...it was a very odd day. We all just got drunk in the evening. I still can't believe it. Of all the guys to get shot, it was him. Anyway, if some of the songs sound like him, that's why.
Other than John Lennon, and Syd Barrett, who has had the biggest musical influence on you?
There was this guy called George Formby, who used to sing in a high-pitched Lancastrian accent [adopts a nasal, shrill voice]: "When I'm cleaning windows..." Like that. Apart from that, just the old guys: Bob Dylan...probably Bob Dylan. I only picked up the guitar because of Dylan (like so many other people). It was a good idea. I don't know. It's basically Bob Dylan's fault.
Is Trains the record you always wanted to make all along, and, was Groovy Decay the record Albion wanted you to make?
It wasn't Albion, really: it was the guy who was managing me. He sold it to Albion. The pressure was on to be an international star, and to straighten out. You know, get a big, modern drum sound. It didn't work with me at all. It was another one of those things that compelled me to retire. Everything started to drift out of my control. And I fell asleep. And then I, sort of, woke up. And then I fell asleep again. This was an attempt...you know, not to
sound like anybody else. It's got nothing to do with Rock 'n' Roll. It's got nothing to do with Pop music. To me, it's a Folk record. I mean, I'm quite surprised that anybody likes it really, 'cause it's very much my own. It's a bit sad, I suppose.
I really like Black Snake Diamond Role.
Well, who doesn't? It's my all-time party favorite, that. I'm really pleased with that. I listened to it the other day. That was another reason I'd stopped. I didn't really think I could do anything better than what I'd done. Groovy Decay had some good songs, but it was a bad session. I don't think I know anyone who likes it. I know one guy that likes it...he's quite tall. Groovy Decay was done in the middle of the night, and we were all falling asleep. It was all part of a sleepy period which culminated -- like I said -- in being shut in with the blunderbuss, waiting for the dwarf to come. We were waiting for the dwarf then, because we knew it was going to come. But on Black Snake Diamond Role, we didn't even think there was a dwarf. It was a very innocent time.
What are the other Soft Boys doing these days?
Well, Kimberley is in America (I think) now -- or has just been. He's got a band called Katrina And The Waves. His band was originally The Waves, anyway -- from Cambridge. The Waves fell apart and he joined The Soft Boys. And The Soft Boys stopped and he reformed The Waves. Two of the people in The Waves are American: the lead singer and the bass player. We always thought Kimberley would go down big in mid-America, 'cause it's just this thing about Americans liking their, sort of, no-nonsense Rock. I mean, the big stadiums and stuff. (Although they've got to project a bit more to get out, 'cause they've got that feeling of a little band. But they're very good.) Personally, I prefer Kimberley in his band to Kimberly in my band. I got him in rather greedily, but I'm not sure he worked out. Anyway, that was that. He'll keep going. Kimberley would play every night of the year. You know, he'd play to three deaf people and a mouse. It wouldn't make any difference. And the mouse would be deaf in the end, too. Kimberley's the kind of guy who'd actually go to audiences' houses and drive them to a gig. He's got an enthusiasm for live work which I don't really share (which is why I haven't done many gigs lately).
Are you thinking of coming over to The States, or touring?
We'd love to come over there. I've got a band that includes a couple of Soft Boys -- Morris Windsor is playing drums, and a guy named Andy Metcalfe (who was in the very original Soft Boys). And I've got a sax player and keyboard player as well. We did a gig -- the first one in two or three years -- the other day, which was quite good. It was just at the Hope, London's legendary Hope And
Anchor. In fact, a lot of people turned up, and the band was good. So we thought we'd do another one next month. But the problem with getting to The States, you appreciate, is that it's a very big place. We played New York once, and the town didn't explode...there's not enough people in lots of different places where we could do a decent little tour. There's no point in doing things if you can't afford to do it properly -- if your van breaks down, or when you get to the gig, you find that the band are all dead because there's been no air in the van. You have to be aware of all these problems...or you find that the band has all been eaten going through customs, and there's nothing left but a load of bones. I just have to [laughs] try and get it right.
How do you keep it all straight in your head?
You mean...how do I keep it from falling out? I tie up my head with this stuff called "gaffer tape", and I bind my head up at night, and I unbind it in the morning, and it stops my brain from leaking out onto the pillow. So I'm all right.
Can you say anything about your next album?
It might be called Egyptian Cream; it's about a hair restorer with a difference. It, kind of, affects people's hair in drastic ways. It's coming out the beginning of January (or February), and that's got a band on it. You know: bass, guitar, and drums, and organs, and stuff. It's not a bit like the acoustic album.
Back to the days of, like, Black Snake Diamond Role?
Well, more like that. Slightly better recorded. It's like that -- although I don't know if the songs are as good. I was really pleased with that album. I was really lucky to get a good bunch of songs -- and I threw lots of songs off, as well. I had about 18, and I threw eight out. This one, I'm just trying to get enough finished to make it good. Egyptian Cream is going to have songs on it like "Insect Mother" which is about an...uh...insect mother. And it's got "The Man With the Lightbulb Head", which is also my first film. It's only an eight-millimeter film -- nothing swish.
What's the plot?
It's only a little video -- two-and-a-half minutes. It's got this guy -- his head is a lightbulb -- and he, sort of, turns himself off and on. It's very simple. [laughs] you just see him wandering around in the film with his head flashing, bits of stuff come out of the wall....
Is it nightmarish?
No. It's meant to be funny, really. It's not meant to be horrible. I've finished that. And I'm also doing another one, "I Often Dream of Trains". We're doing a film for that which will be much simpler. It's going to be me singing into a disconnected telephone, wandering around the old railways of Great Britain as the leaves fall. If that works out, I'll maybe do a third one. [pauses] It's not stuff that you can expect millions of people to leap into the air about. A lot of people aren't going to understand it. And there's nothing I can do. You can't deny the people who like it the right to have it, so you've got to go on churning the stuff out. But you can't get
upset because millions of people don't buy it.
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