The Herald (Glasgow)
May 5, 1995
Return Of A Cult Icon
Robyn Hitchcock Is Back -- And Going It Alone, Reports David Belcher
by David Belcher
Robyn Hitchcock's first performance in Scotland -- almost two decades ago when he was fronting The Soft Boys -- inspired an unexpected form of approbation from the patrons of Paisley's Bungalow Bar.
"I remember travelling up from London in a state of terror, alarmed by having read stories in Sounds about mass fights in every venue. Savagings. Dismembered limbs," says Hitchcock, due back in Scotland next Tuesday evening -- on Mayfest duty aboard the Renfrew Ferry. "In fact, our audience that night were a most peculiar crew who were all tripping on mushrooms.
"You see, The Soft Boys had this reputation as a druggy, Postpunk acid band. But none of us ever performed under the influence of anything stronger than Guinness. So, while our audience in Paisley were deranged, they weren't hostile. Actually, one of them kept phoning me up at home for nice chats for some time afterwards. They piled all the tables up, and then danced on top of them. It was very interesting for us to watch from the stage."
Critical reactions to Hitchcock's work have been similarly amiable but oblique. He has crafted 13 albums in the past 15 years: eight solo LPs and five as leader of The Egyptians. And nearly every attempt at categorising him has resulted in verdicts which sound like accusations of wilful obscurity.
"Capable of baffling the uninitiated and delighting the converted," wrote one critic. "Endearingly eccentric," said another, adding that Hitchcock "evokes the same benign insanity which marked John Lennon's most whimsical moments." One other name has been repeatedly -- and somewhat unhelpfully -- linked to Hitchcock: that of the patron saint of fey, wayward lost genii, Syd Barrett.
"I suppose it's more accurate than comparing me to Sam Cooke," sighs Hitchcock with dry resignation. "Syd was obviously an enormous influence, and he continues to show in my work. And my first solo album, Black Snake Diamond Role, reeks of Syd. But I plead that I did it in good faith.
"As for calling me inaccessible, or a cult figure, the creator of a music which is only for the select few...it's like accusing a bottle of milk of being full of white liquid. I'm accessible to anyone who bothers, who makes the effort. And all tastes are acquired."
Prominent among the fans Hitchcock has gained in the more recent past have been R.E.M.. Indeed, Peter Buck's guitar is discernible on You & Oblivion -- an album of hitherto-unreleased Hitchcockiana freshly issued this year by the Sequel label -- along with Hitchcock's entire solo back-catalogue.
Such a major reissue programme would seem to be in direct contradiction of Hitchcock's minority cult status. It transpires that a passable number of Americans have grown very fond of him in the past 10 years -- to the extent that he is a regular transatlantic commuter.
"We always wondered where The last Soft Boys album and my first solo one went, because we could never find copies of them in the UK. And it seems that they ended up at a record distributor in Georgia. Of course, Peter Buck was working in a record shop in Athens, so that was how he heard me. So while I've been pretty invisible in Britain, I went to America in 1985 and found a seam that could be mined.
"I'm just back from a tour of the more real bits of America. Vermont, Dallas, Cleveland. The Egyptians having burnt themselves out, I was accompanied over there by a violinist, Deni Bonet. But in Glasgow it will just be me."
Hopefully this will not preclude Hitchcock from performing a one-man verison of "The Yip Song": a spiralling, headlong epic featuring walls of guitars and addressing the saintly, life-giving powers of Vera Lynn. "Cleanse us with your healing grin now, Vera Lynn." Timeous, what with all this VE-Day stuff. The song appeared on Hitchcock's most recent album -- the wondrous Respect -- in 1993. Released in the U.S. by A&M, the LP was cruelly spurned by the label's UK arm.
Hitchcock is right now between record deals, although a new one is imminent. He's nothing if not a realist, Robyn Hitchcock. While repeating his disavowal of an appearance on Top Of The Pops, he is aware that teeny-bop idolisation has passed him by. "I have children who are almost as old as me. My stepson actually works in the House Of Commons (fortunately, for Labour)."
He knows who he is and why he's never been flavour-of-the-month with the British Rock press: "Journalistic self-hatred. When The Soft Boys began, most of the music papers were run by middle-class kids who wished they weren't.
"In consequence, they like a bit of rough. Something American and exotic. Or working-class and well-'ard. Or working-class and quoting Oscar Wilde. Certainly not middle-class wise guys like them -- which I palpably was, and am.
"And there's also the fact that Rock is based on the herd instinct. You go against its trampling hooves at your peril."
Fear not, Sir Robyn: we will be forming ourselves into a free-thinking Hitchcock-flock on Tuesday night, and stampeding towards the ferry.
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