Snaps Crack-Ups and Strop!
Robin Bresnark / Melody Maker
04.04.1998
04.04.1998
To find out if THE JESUS AND MARY CHAIN are really 'cracking up', we meet them in a pub with three photos from the past and ask them: do you remember the first time?
Cracking On: Robin Bresnark Cracking Down: Tom Sheehan
It's all about numbers, big numbers, enough numbers to make Carol Vordeman purr like a well-fed kitten. In the 14 years since East Kilbride's Jim and William Reid first smashed up a stage, The Jesus And Mary Chain have slashed through hundreds of songs, f***ed-up thousands of eardrums and changed millions of lives. That's everyone who ever either heard their music or any of the music they've influenced (Oasis, the Manics, Prodigy, Lo-Fis). Everyone who's ever worn a pair of sunglasses, put on a black leather jacket, sworn, kissed, breathed. Lived.
And, today, it's about one journalist, two musicians (frontman Jim Reid and guitarist Ben Laurie), 13 pints and three photographs we've spread out over a pub table to guide us through the years: war photos from rock's front-line, a place where Kate Adie fears to tread but angels always called home. Are you writhing uncomfortably? Then let's begin...
"This was the Ambulance Station in 1984," says Jim, grabbing the first pic like he's trying to steal his soul back. "One of our very first gigs. I just remember walking onstage after sitting getting pissed for hours and hours. I could hardly stand. In fact I couldn't - I fell over and knocked Bobby's drums all over the place!"
That's Bobby Gillespie from Primal Scream, of course. The floppy, stick-thin lad against the wall there, the one who looks like the worst drummer in the world.
"Ha, he was the worst and the best all rolled into one," smiles Jim. "But we didn't need a drummer, we needed someone to stand up and bash out a f***ing muthaf***ing beat! Bobby was in his element. We used to fall about onstage and he'd be in hysterics!"
In the beginning, there was carnage, blink-of-an-eye riots of sound and malevolence. You went to a Mary Chain gig hoping that someone would spill their pint on you, dreaming that the singer would jump offstage and beat you up and praying that your girlfriend would hate you forever for dragging her there.
"That probably was one of the infamous 20-minute gigs," nods Jim. "We only did two or three gigs like that, but they were very, very extreme. It made more of an impact if you just went out there and went blammm! Blew up, then left.
"But I was terrified," he gargles. "The only way I could perform onstage those days was to drink shitloads of this stuff. So about nine out of every 10 gigs were crap and one was genius, but in the end we thought: 'This is crap. It's not good enough. And, also, one of us is gonna be dead soon if we go on like this.'"
Which one?
"Probably me."
Come 1987, though, everyone was still breathing and The Jesus And Mary Chain were about to become bona fide pop stars. But forget about that for a moment... what the f*** do you call that hair?
"Ah, come on," groans Jim. "Everybody had hair like that. It was 1987, man! Whose idea was it? Probably Ian McCulloch's!"
Ok, you can talk about being pop stars now.
"Yeah, we were pop stars for a while," he beams. "When you're a kid, you watch 'Top Of The Pops' and you think: 'Ooh, I could do that.' Well, I f***ing did do it - I did it in 1987. And it was good, I'd recommend it to everybody - try it for a year, then give it up."
Did they expect you to trash the place?
"Yeah, probably. We still meet people and you realise that they expect you to be some disgusting animal that's gonna puke on them, then kick the shit out of them. The huge thing that you cannae ignore about 1987 is that it was during the Thatcher years. You could murder a f***ing baby in 1987, but if you got paid a million quid for doing it, you'd go: 'Loadsamoney!' And we were the ones who went down as the bad guys! All we were doing was getting drunk and having a laugh."
Well, a curious smile at least, judging by the next photo, taken during 1992's "Rollercoaster" tour, a mini-Lollapalooza the Mray Chain put together starring themselves, Dinosaur Jr, My Bloody Valentine and a fledgling Blur.
"Blur?" says Ben who's glad to be able to comment firsthand on the pics, having joined in 1989. "We though: 'We'll give 'em a hand, help 'em out.' Next thing we f***ing know, they're massive!"
The Mary Chain were out promoting their fifth album, "Honey's Dead", another massive breakthrough, studded with songs like the continent-sized if radio-alarming "Reverence".
"Well," explains Jim, "we knew you couldn't go on 'Top Of The Pops' and sing a song that goes: 'I wanna die just like Jesus Christ'. But we just thought: 'F*** it, that's gonna be our single anyway.' It ended up going Top 10 and I'm proud of that fact. Music's not supposed to be like buying a pizza, just to consume and then dismiss. It has to be a f***ing large part art! Rock'n'roll is art!"
Which brings us neatly to the here and now... and back to the start at the same time. In 1984, JAMC released their debut single, "Upside Down", an arsenic-flavoured piece of bubblegum drenched in feedback that sounded like the gates of hell needed of a gallon of WD40. It was on Creation Records. In 1998, JAMC are about to release their latest single, "Cracking Up", a cyanide-flavoured stick of rock every bit as far gone and out, and the first taste of their astonishing forthcoming album, "Munki". It's on Creation Records, too. And in between? A nightmare called Warner Brothers. If Alan McGee is this year's left-wing hero, then Warners were?
"Warners were f***ing National Socialist!" grunts Jim. "I don't wanna be too bitchy but..."
"He can't be too bitchy," cuts in Ben, "cos f***ing Warner Brothers won't allow him to be too bitchy."
Let's just say you're happier now then, right?
"Right."
And William? Is he happy?
"Truth be told," Jim sighs, "William's got his problems right now. For the past couple of years his life's been pretty much in turmoil, and he's been going through a strange relationship with Hope [Sandoval of Mazzy Star]."
Are they still going out?
"I think they're not," says Ben. "They've probably reached the end of the line. That's William's business, but it's had an effect on his state of mind recently."
"You want the truth?" Jim asks, resignedly. "We haven't been getting on that great over the past couple of years."
Punch-ups?
"It's more verbal with us. We're not quite so Neanderthal that we settle these things with our knuckles. We have hit each other over the years, but it's very, very, very rare."
Have you ever thought you'd be better off without him?
"Yeah, but that's nothing new. You do the tours, you practically want to kill each other. You think about maybe killing each other, then you think, 'Nah, I don't want to do to jail over him. It's not worth it.'"
And now William's gone and released a solo single, "Tired of F***ing". I never thought I'd see the day when one of you did a solo record.
"That's silly. We've wanted to do that for years. Me and Ben have got a band together."
Don't you think William feels ganged up on?
"You cannot ask me things like that!" yells Jim. "You cannot! I'm not gonna answer questions for my brother! I will defend my brother because I love my brother. My brother is a f***ing fantastic songwriter. I'll tell you anything you want to know, but don't asak me to answer questions on his behalf!"
OK. Do you think you're ganging up on him?
"Listen, don't f***ing twist it round! We are ganging up on him now, aren't we?"
Cracking up? You decide. Does all this aggro actually mean anything? Is this our lot? Or is this going to be the best year yet, Jim?
"Well, yeah. I hope so," he answers, settling back down. "It might not be the biggest but that doesn't matter. This may be the end. I don't want it to be the end, but, as with any album, it might be. So stay tuned, man."
The single 'Cracking Up' is out on April 6
Cracking On: Robin Bresnark Cracking Down: Tom Sheehan
It's all about numbers, big numbers, enough numbers to make Carol Vordeman purr like a well-fed kitten. In the 14 years since East Kilbride's Jim and William Reid first smashed up a stage, The Jesus And Mary Chain have slashed through hundreds of songs, f***ed-up thousands of eardrums and changed millions of lives. That's everyone who ever either heard their music or any of the music they've influenced (Oasis, the Manics, Prodigy, Lo-Fis). Everyone who's ever worn a pair of sunglasses, put on a black leather jacket, sworn, kissed, breathed. Lived.
And, today, it's about one journalist, two musicians (frontman Jim Reid and guitarist Ben Laurie), 13 pints and three photographs we've spread out over a pub table to guide us through the years: war photos from rock's front-line, a place where Kate Adie fears to tread but angels always called home. Are you writhing uncomfortably? Then let's begin...
"This was the Ambulance Station in 1984," says Jim, grabbing the first pic like he's trying to steal his soul back. "One of our very first gigs. I just remember walking onstage after sitting getting pissed for hours and hours. I could hardly stand. In fact I couldn't - I fell over and knocked Bobby's drums all over the place!"
That's Bobby Gillespie from Primal Scream, of course. The floppy, stick-thin lad against the wall there, the one who looks like the worst drummer in the world.
"Ha, he was the worst and the best all rolled into one," smiles Jim. "But we didn't need a drummer, we needed someone to stand up and bash out a f***ing muthaf***ing beat! Bobby was in his element. We used to fall about onstage and he'd be in hysterics!"
In the beginning, there was carnage, blink-of-an-eye riots of sound and malevolence. You went to a Mary Chain gig hoping that someone would spill their pint on you, dreaming that the singer would jump offstage and beat you up and praying that your girlfriend would hate you forever for dragging her there.
"That probably was one of the infamous 20-minute gigs," nods Jim. "We only did two or three gigs like that, but they were very, very extreme. It made more of an impact if you just went out there and went blammm! Blew up, then left.
"But I was terrified," he gargles. "The only way I could perform onstage those days was to drink shitloads of this stuff. So about nine out of every 10 gigs were crap and one was genius, but in the end we thought: 'This is crap. It's not good enough. And, also, one of us is gonna be dead soon if we go on like this.'"
Which one?
"Probably me."
Come 1987, though, everyone was still breathing and The Jesus And Mary Chain were about to become bona fide pop stars. But forget about that for a moment... what the f*** do you call that hair?
"Ah, come on," groans Jim. "Everybody had hair like that. It was 1987, man! Whose idea was it? Probably Ian McCulloch's!"
Ok, you can talk about being pop stars now.
"Yeah, we were pop stars for a while," he beams. "When you're a kid, you watch 'Top Of The Pops' and you think: 'Ooh, I could do that.' Well, I f***ing did do it - I did it in 1987. And it was good, I'd recommend it to everybody - try it for a year, then give it up."
Did they expect you to trash the place?
"Yeah, probably. We still meet people and you realise that they expect you to be some disgusting animal that's gonna puke on them, then kick the shit out of them. The huge thing that you cannae ignore about 1987 is that it was during the Thatcher years. You could murder a f***ing baby in 1987, but if you got paid a million quid for doing it, you'd go: 'Loadsamoney!' And we were the ones who went down as the bad guys! All we were doing was getting drunk and having a laugh."
Well, a curious smile at least, judging by the next photo, taken during 1992's "Rollercoaster" tour, a mini-Lollapalooza the Mray Chain put together starring themselves, Dinosaur Jr, My Bloody Valentine and a fledgling Blur.
"Blur?" says Ben who's glad to be able to comment firsthand on the pics, having joined in 1989. "We though: 'We'll give 'em a hand, help 'em out.' Next thing we f***ing know, they're massive!"
The Mary Chain were out promoting their fifth album, "Honey's Dead", another massive breakthrough, studded with songs like the continent-sized if radio-alarming "Reverence".
"Well," explains Jim, "we knew you couldn't go on 'Top Of The Pops' and sing a song that goes: 'I wanna die just like Jesus Christ'. But we just thought: 'F*** it, that's gonna be our single anyway.' It ended up going Top 10 and I'm proud of that fact. Music's not supposed to be like buying a pizza, just to consume and then dismiss. It has to be a f***ing large part art! Rock'n'roll is art!"
Which brings us neatly to the here and now... and back to the start at the same time. In 1984, JAMC released their debut single, "Upside Down", an arsenic-flavoured piece of bubblegum drenched in feedback that sounded like the gates of hell needed of a gallon of WD40. It was on Creation Records. In 1998, JAMC are about to release their latest single, "Cracking Up", a cyanide-flavoured stick of rock every bit as far gone and out, and the first taste of their astonishing forthcoming album, "Munki". It's on Creation Records, too. And in between? A nightmare called Warner Brothers. If Alan McGee is this year's left-wing hero, then Warners were?
"Warners were f***ing National Socialist!" grunts Jim. "I don't wanna be too bitchy but..."
"He can't be too bitchy," cuts in Ben, "cos f***ing Warner Brothers won't allow him to be too bitchy."
Let's just say you're happier now then, right?
"Right."
And William? Is he happy?
"Truth be told," Jim sighs, "William's got his problems right now. For the past couple of years his life's been pretty much in turmoil, and he's been going through a strange relationship with Hope [Sandoval of Mazzy Star]."
Are they still going out?
"I think they're not," says Ben. "They've probably reached the end of the line. That's William's business, but it's had an effect on his state of mind recently."
"You want the truth?" Jim asks, resignedly. "We haven't been getting on that great over the past couple of years."
Punch-ups?
"It's more verbal with us. We're not quite so Neanderthal that we settle these things with our knuckles. We have hit each other over the years, but it's very, very, very rare."
Have you ever thought you'd be better off without him?
"Yeah, but that's nothing new. You do the tours, you practically want to kill each other. You think about maybe killing each other, then you think, 'Nah, I don't want to do to jail over him. It's not worth it.'"
And now William's gone and released a solo single, "Tired of F***ing". I never thought I'd see the day when one of you did a solo record.
"That's silly. We've wanted to do that for years. Me and Ben have got a band together."
Don't you think William feels ganged up on?
"You cannot ask me things like that!" yells Jim. "You cannot! I'm not gonna answer questions for my brother! I will defend my brother because I love my brother. My brother is a f***ing fantastic songwriter. I'll tell you anything you want to know, but don't asak me to answer questions on his behalf!"
OK. Do you think you're ganging up on him?
"Listen, don't f***ing twist it round! We are ganging up on him now, aren't we?"
Cracking up? You decide. Does all this aggro actually mean anything? Is this our lot? Or is this going to be the best year yet, Jim?
"Well, yeah. I hope so," he answers, settling back down. "It might not be the biggest but that doesn't matter. This may be the end. I don't want it to be the end, but, as with any album, it might be. So stay tuned, man."
The single 'Cracking Up' is out on April 6
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