Bucketfull of Brains
Issue 12 (1985)
Robyn Hitchcock: Passing 'round The Beards And Other Tall Stories
Interview by Jon Storey and Nigel Cross
With a great new album, Fegmania!, and a series of excellent gigs behind them, Robyn Hitchcock And The Egyptians seem to have a bright future ahead. A forthcoming U.S. tour and a new album and video in the autumn should seal their success.
Firstly, I'd like to ask you about the crab books that you used to be into?
Guy N. Smith. Some friends of mine up in Wales actually saw him signing copies of his stuff. I think it's mainly women who read it -- or maybe they just queue up for it. I wouldn't recommend anyone to follow the Guy N. Smith path. It's one avenue I explored far too thoroughly. I think Night of the Crabs was a joke; but by the time you get to things like Crabs On A Rampage, The Crabs Get There First, or The Crab And I; life gets putrid.
Did they actually start your crustacea fetish off?
No, no. I was already deeply embedded with crustacea. I was just saturated with crabs and I saw that book, in '77, when we were on a cycling tour of Devon and I bought a copy. Andy Metcalfe stumbled across one a few years later in Cornwall, but the crab's been there since the year dot.
I notice that in more recent songs you've not gone on about them so much?
There's only so much you can say about them really.
What was the main reason that you decided to come out of retirement?
It seemed like the right time. I've been experimenting very heavily with negativity and there was nothing I could do; I was locked into a downward spiral which I knew was going to take a while to come out of. I came out of it, by myself, about a year ago. I could feel that a whole cycle was nearing its end -- it was nearing its end when The Soft Boys stopped, and I might as
well have just knocked it on the head then and shut up for a few years. I can't really account for it, but I could just feel it going down and down right through 1979 and '80.
I heard stories that you burnt all your connections with what you'd done previously when you decided to pack it all in?
What, set fire to them? I did actually burn everything. I burnt all my notebooks, and all my old press cuttings. You don't necessarily want these things to survive you, otherwise when you snuff it -- after all the roses have been carted out and you've been interred on the compost heap or strung out on the gate as a warning to strangers -- people are going to come by and maybe
see those notebooks and stuff like that, and they're going to find a lot of garbage. For every decent song or poem there are ten lousy ones. I'm going to burn my tapes next week and, in case anyone is interested, I'm just going to edit them first and compile a, kind of, "useful tapes" and then rub the whole lot out.
Did you record anything between Groovy Decay and I Often Dream Of Trains?
I didn't record in the studio, but I was quite active in a quiet sort of way. We did a tape down in Sussex that will be kept pretty private -- experimental stuff. I did lots of demos for Trains with a little machine I've got.
Who did you play with down in Sussex?
A couple of friends: James A. Smith, and Simon Kunath -- who is a very talented guy is waiting to emerge from his cocoon, he's got a very good ear for sound. We hired a little 8-track from a place in Eastbourne, and the guy that lived downstairs started complaining. So we buried him in an anthill, poured paraffin over him, and then -- just to tantalize him -- we didn't actually set fire to him. Shortly after that Simon moved house. That tape is around, there's some quite good stuff on it. There's a huge thing called "The Pit Of Souls" (which is an instrumental suite), and we did the first version of it down in Sussex. Simon shoved a mic out at two o'clock in the morning and we thought we might as well have some owls, so he stuck it out of the window and got some on tape. When we came to re-do it in London, Simon wasn't involved. We couldn't quite get it right. We tried to get the conga player to repeat what he'd done, but he couldn't get the part that he'd had before, and it was
essential to have that and the bass run, and everything. So instead, we have an urban version of "Pit Of Souls" which hasn't got the drift that the Sussex one has. It's got four different movements -- what we called "The Descent" is the country "Pit Of Souls". It's too self-indulgent....
So you don't think it'll be released?
All this stuff tends to come out in the end. But it will cost so much to remix it that I think I'll probably remix the original "Pit Of Souls" (if I can find it), and probably release "The Descent" from there, because that's really got the right feel -- it hovers beautifully. There's a few other tracks from Sussex: there's "Mr. Deadly"--
Is there a song called "The Golden Prince"?
"Happy The Golden Prince"! Oh, that was years ago. That was a story, a six minute narrative which is basically very sexual. And I haven't got a copy of it. There are about 18 tracks of old unreleased stuff which could be shored up and released.
Regarding all the new American bands: you said, on the Whistle Test (April '85) that they are all doing what you were doing five years ago?
A lot of them are. I mean, there are pub bands in Cambridge, like The Lonely -- they've been doing what The Long Ryders are for centuries, but they won't get doodley-squat out of it because they're up in Cambridge (and we all know what a tomb that is).
Is that what made you decide to come to London?
At least to get out of Cambridge, yes. I did find that Cambridge has a certain quality for writing songs -- there was more atmosphere in the air than there was in London. I found it hard to get the right atmosphere for quite a long time.
I thought you tended to go through a period of much more accessible songwriting when you moved to London. When you were still in Cambridge, the songs seemed to be a bit weirder -- thinking back to the original Can Of Bees lineup....
Well, that's the lineup as opposed to the songs. There's a big difference. Although, to an extent, you have to do material that is suited to who you've got with you. If you want a certain type of sound, then you get certain people. You don't get the London Symphony Orchestra if you're going to record Trout Mask Replica. Or maybe they're the only people that could play it now! Be great to hear them doing that. I wanted to be taken seriously as a songwriter. But the trouble is that people try and steer that off into the wrong creek. They leave you in there and the ravine closes in, and pretty soon your canoe gets crushed. So after that I decided not to take myself too seriously.
I heard that you'd done an Alex Chilton and become a tree surgeon?
I haven't actually become a tree surgeon -- as you can see, I haven't got any trees with me. I was pretty heavily involved with vegetation though, in lots of ways. But I've never actually chopped trees up or done surgery on anybody --and there are a few people that I'd have liked to have done surgery on!
On the sleeve of the Fegmania! LP there's something about a film that you've been making with Tony Moon?
He's starting up a company called Impossible Films. We've done three films: there's "The Man With the Lightbulb head", "I Often Dream Of Trains", and "Listening To The Higsons". "Lightbulb Head" was the first one, and was done when I thought that it was a good way to re-surface. It was the end of
the cycle and I did that green acoustic record (I Often Dream Of Trains) because I couldn't blame anyone else for it. I'd always been reliant on somebody else, and they'd say "this is what you're like when you're working with Andy," or something. People tend to blame the band, so I thought: "Let's see what it's like if it is just my own," whatever it is, "It's my own fault." I started it completely by myself, from scratch, like I did in the Folk clubs -- just rub everything out and start again on my own. The next thing was that rather than do gigs, why not do films? Obviously we hadn't got a budget, but if you don't try and compete with reality, you can do very good things on Super-8. Like with 16mm and all the rest of it; they still haven't got over the fact that Duran Duran might be being catapulted through midair, drenched in honey, (or whatever it is), chewing an elastic band and dipped in a vat of freezing ice, and they can be hit with a mallet and their legs will fall off but they'll still going to be singing, "Wild boys never lose it...". You can pull their teeth out or chop them into segments, but you still get this "Wild boys never close their eyes...wild boys". So I thought, "Hell, rather than that, let's have films where the singer is only involved in it tangentially." So in these Hitchcock films, you're going to see my namesake -- I'll be in them at a tangent. It won't just be me sitting at a desk crooning away!
So the shot of you on the cover of Fegmania! was actually taken from the films?
That was taken from "The Man With The Lightbulb Head".
It's a great song. When was it written?
At the beginning of the current cycle. That was written very quickly, with the idea of a film in mind. We want to do some more: find a topic, make up a song for it, and make a film.
I thought that song was a great way to come back. It's the first thing that I heard at that time -- it's got the humour and the weirdness and great jagged guitar!
You probably like that one because it's got hundreds of guitars on it -- very like old Soft Boys, I suppose. It's got that density.
You used John Kingham, from Motor Boys Motor, on that track?
Yes. I think he'd left them by that time. I've done a few more things with him that are lying around.
Similar things?
No, nothing as complex. There are quite a lot of jams that we did -- well not really jams -- with Tony Moon and John Kingham and Otis 'Horns' Fletcher and I -- a whole load of sessions.
When I last saw you, you had done some sessions for a possible album -- did anything come of that? I heard it was like Captain Beefheart meets Tom Waits!
I'm sure they're meeting all the time. Tony Moon isn't really a singer: he's just reciting over the top of it. So it's pretty much like that because those are his big influences. John and I were the rhythm section, and Fletcher would put all these saxophones on it. There's not much guitar on it: it's mainly bass, drums, and sax -- with recitation. No one signed it at the time, but it's all lying around. It was all improvised in the studio -- apart from the words -- so that you'd make it up and record it very, very, fast so you get the numbers just before they go off the boil. We never really got a name for the project. I wanted to call it The Four People.
How did you hook up with Andy Metcalfe and Morris Windsor again? Was it conscious, or otherwise?
While I was keeping quiet I listened to what old records I could get hold of, and that Wading Through A Ventilator EP (the Delorean 12") came out and some of it was really good. The Soft Boys never really got it right. I view Robyn Hitchcock And The Egyptians as the finished product, and The Soft Boys as a long period of experiment which never quite congealed -- where a lot of good songs and musicianship got lost through our own fault and the vagaries of the business. There's a few bits where The Soft Boys did get it right, but generally speaking we never stabilized properly. And I think The Soft Boys had a slow and agonizing demise. Our reunion gigs were, in fact, farewells. We
never really did official farewell gigs. It was so that everyone that wanted to see us could do so -- and then that was it.
I remember, when you were doing the press for the Groovy Decay LP, you said some uncomplimentary things about Kimberley Rew. I think it was in the Hot Press that you said, "It just got to the point where I couldn't stand this awful noise behind me onstage."
I don't think Kimberley and I were a good combination. I think Kimberley is very talented, and I really like that "Walking On Sunshine" thing. But really, we've just gone back to our component parts. He'd probably agree that The Soft Boys was a big red herring and now that he's back with Alex [Cooper], with The Waves and we are the remains of the old Soft Boys. It's just like it was eight years ago back in Cambridge. Everyone has tried out different things and gone back. It's like putting Hendrix with The Stones: it wouldn't have made The Stones any better -- or Hendrix. It would have been too much.
You've got to admit that it had its moments....
It probably did more if you were listening rather than playing. Sometimes the tension of having a lot of plusses in the band is good, and sometimes it obliterates everything. And to me, it was just sonic overkill.
I thought it was very brave of The Soft Boys to do what you did at that time. I'm talking more now of the live shows.
Live was better than the records because it was so bloody loud! With Kimberley and I, it was like the arms race: "If you're going to have an extra 100 watts then so am I. I want parity." Nothing was said, it was just a sonic duel. It took a big toll on the band: Andy became inaudible and he got bored, and Morris got fiddly. And it wasn't 'til I listened back to those old Ventilator songs that I appreciated what a good rhythm section they were. You need a good rhythm section more than you need another guitar. I'd meet Andy or Morris and we'd say what a shame it was that we couldn't do these things anymore. We did a posthumous Soft Boys interview with Trevor Dann, who produces the Whistle Test, where the three of us were together. So I asked them if they fancied it, and they said yes. A year later, when the Hope And Anchor was in trouble, I said, "If you need any help give me a ring," not really thinking that they would. But they did, so we were suddenly catapulted back into it. I had decided that I wasn't going to work with any more guitarists -- after Kimberley, who else is there to work with?
I thought that one of the best things that you ever did was "Eaten By Her Own Dinner".
I don't know what your eardrums are like -- I'm glad I don't live in them! God knows how much I've lost through working with guitarists -- I must have lost a whole load of treble (no wonder my records sound so tinny). That track was good, but Bill Carter is another head-case -- like Kimberley -- and we only did
that one thing.
Regarding your desire to be recognized as a songwriter, how do you feel about Mood Six's recent cover of "I Wanna Destroy You"?
I haven't heard it. I'm glad that someone is covering it, and I'm a bit surprised. I suppose if The Bangles can do "Going Down To Liverpool", then Mood Six can do "Destroy You". I'd rather they did it than I did it -- I certainly couldn't sing that now. I hope I get some royalties!
I believe you recently met Joe Boyd?
Yes, he was doing the R.E.M. stuff. There he was, this guy who had produced The 5000 Spirits and The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter (that I used to levitate to when I listened as a teenager). I couldn't quite believe it. I asked him all this stuff about The Incredible String Band. He said that Robin Williamson and Mike Heron never really got on too well -- it was another case of dynamic tension. I couldn't believe it. I see them surrounded by ivory and all that. They know the secrets of the universe, how the fuck can they not get on with each other!!!
Any chance that you might work with Joe Boyd?
I thought about doing a tribute to The String Band -- a 12" EP or something, with some String Band songs on it. And I asked him if he'd like to produce it. But I don't know if I'll do that. I think we've got our own team sorted out. And I'm not really keen on radical changes -- things seem to be going up like yeast for us at the moment. Last time that happened we buggered about with things. So this time I want to keep things stable.
You're going off to America aren't you?
We're going in June. It was to have been May, but Fegmania! is coming out on Slash in the States, so as to be around for the tour. And we may be doing some stuff with R.E.M.. They're doing another 56-year tour -- starting in June -- and they offered us a support slot starting soon. But we couldn't do it. But we'll remain linked. Peter Buck's on some demos that I did.
I heard an interview with R.E.M. where they said it was The Soft Boys rather than The Byrds who were an influence.
He [Peter Buck] has a pretty similar way of doing things to me. We can get onstage, and it's quite nice for him to come in and bolster the sound. But I know he's got his own band -- there's no danger of him joining The Egyptians. He can play with us whenever he likes, but I'm sure he'd turn into an ogre if you gave him enough time and buttons to press.
Why did you record Bells of Rhymney for that 12" last year?
That was because of the miners' strike. I couldn't write a good song about the strike, so I did that as a benefit. I thought it was the most appropriate song. I couldn't use the old version from the Lope At the Hive crap. We didn't have a press agent at that time so nobody knew that it existed, what it was for or where to get it. So, as usual, it sold entirely in Ethiopia. People don't expect me to be doing that sort of thing. I think that they assume that I live on a hedge and know and care nothing about politics, which isn't necessarily the truth. It's just that I'm not good at writing that kind of thing. Unless you can find a way to make people see your way, you should shut up and sing about stones or birds or crabs -- that's what I'm better at singing about.
Are you pleased with the overall production of Fegmania!?
Yes, I think so. I think if you licensed it to a big company, you'd probably have a problem: they'd say, as they said to Kimberley, "Great, now remix it." I believe, with Kimberley, they spent on each track what the whole album had cost just to remix it. As we're going to be on Slash and we're not being aimed horribly at the charts, I think it's bloody good. It's better-recorded than something like Underwater Moonlight because the facilities were there. The sound on almost all the records I've put out is dodgy in some way or other: it's muffled or tinny or something because I'm never too bothered about the technical details. These days we just about seem to be able to get away with it. I'm sure there are things that you can do, but I never know what they are....
I heard that you may become the guitarist in Captain Sensible's band?
Really? I wouldn't put it past him. I rang him the other week because I heard that he needed some lyrics and I spoke to his aunt Sadie -- who knew who I was. She seemed to think the whole thing was a riot -- he hasn't called me back. Put it this way: I'd rather be the guitarist in his band than have him playing in mine. Nothing to do with technical ability -- he's actually better than I am. I don't think that he can play the drums, but he can play the rest: keyboards, bass, guitar. He can play like Kimberley if he wants to, and he can sing in tune. The Captain doesn't really need me, he just lacks confidence in his own lyrics sometimes.
There was an LP mentioned (prior to Fegmania!) called Egyptian Cream. Was that the same thing?
Yes, it was a working title. "Egyptian Cream" is pretty much the core to a lot of the stuff because it's involved with transubstantiation: the form changes, but the essence remains the same. That's really the key thing to what a lot of my songs are about. My definition of what Psychedelia is is anything
which changes when you look at it closely. "Egyptian Cream" is the elixir of change; I used the Egyptian god of librarians on the cover, but on Trains I had Nubis -- who is the god of the Underworld -- because Trains is really to do with what it's like being dead -- a relaxed version of what it's like being dead. The Egyptians invented the paper airplane, and all we've got to show for it is Virgin Airlines! "Fegmania" is one word where "Egyptian Cream" is two, so why use two when one will do?
Something that I really like on Fegmania! is "My Wife And My Dead Wife", which has a jokey Pop arrangement to it....
It's quite a camp arrangement, but it's a very painless song. It's a jaunty little song. I think we're going to be doing that one live. We're recording the Marquee show live -- Midnight Music are taping it because Jettisound are putting a video out with my video promos on it as well. It'll be out in a few months. We'd probably be doing a few oldies because you can't buy them anymore.
You're also playing with John Cale soon. I always thought that he would have been a good choice for someone to produce you (maybe not now, but going back a few years to one of your sinister periods).
Oh, they'll come and go. Did you think we were more sinister than we are? Does it all seem too light, what we're doing now?
Not really. When you go back, some of your stuff was very violent -- things like "The Pigworker"....
There was a lot of violence in it (but then, "I Wish I Was A Pretty Girl" has a lot of violence in it). I never express myself very directly anyway, but the music was violent and I was extremely paranoid -- I think I still am, so that isn't any different. I just don't want to bring people down -- I hate enforced gaiety. But I just feel myself getting rather depressing....
That's one of the good thing about Underwater Moonlight: lots of people say that it makes you feel very "up".
Well, that's an amazing thing! Actually, I was extremely fucked at the time, and we were all in a bad state. Things were going so badly for us, and being in The Soft Boys was like finding that you'd been in the SS on 15th May 1945 -- bad move!!! Because we'd just been doing stuff like "Love Poisoning" -- it had
been getting very very heavy and violent -- and the feeling in the band was getting worse. Everything was just harrowing. I wrote "Queen Of Eyes", and it came out quite Pop-y. It was amazing how we managed to make a remotely tuneful record -- I don't know how it manages to sound so chirpy. We get the rights back to it this year, so it should re-emerge on Two Crabs (as will a Maureen And The Meatpackers compilation). I'd also like to do a completely instrumental album -- a soundtrack.
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