By James Skinner
When Adem’s debut album, Homesongs, was released on the über-hip Domino label in 2004, it’s fair to say it caught a few critics by surprise.
Formerly the bassist in London-based post-rock trio Fridge (along with Kieran Hebden, better known as Four Tet), his first solo release led to comparisons with folk luminaries Nick Drake and Vashti Bunyan, helped coin the term ‘folk-tronica’, and became a massive word-of-mouth success.
Cut to April 2006, and I’m speaking to a sniffly Adem over the phone, days before he is due to embark on a UK tour in support of his fantastic second album, Love and Other Planets (reviewed on page 30 of this very magazine). Since the release of Homesongs he has toured extensively, been involved in numerous musical projects, and even put together the revered yearly Homefires festival in London that, over the last two years, has featured UK performances from José Gonzalez, Joanna Newsom and Willy Mason as well as stars such as Badly Drawn Boy and Beth Orton.
Returning to his first album though, Adem was ‘amazed’ with the positive reaction it received: “I think because I had no preconceptions – no idea what to expect, nothing to measure it by. So I was really, really pleased.”
However, far from inspiring confidence in terms of approaching its follow up, he was keen to avoid repeating himself and “making Homesongs two”. This is something he has emphatically sidestepped: in Love and Other Planets he has created what is surely one of the albums of the year thus far, a record both sonically adventurous and lyrically accomplished.
Thematically concerned (as its title suggests) with the idea of the universe and human emotions being very much intertwined, the basic concepts of love, friendship and optimism in the face of adversity that permeate his first record are all present and magnified here. But… space?
“After writing four or five songs for the record, I realised that like Homesongs, there was a really strong thematic link running through all of them. I decided I was obviously trying to say something, so I wanted to explore that and see where it took me. And that’s when I started looking at space, and the themes of space… not just as cosmic space, but the space between people, the space inside us; the space of time and the gaps between things.”
Asked to pick a key song from the album, Adem struggles: “The first track is important as it’s an overview of sorts, whereas in Spirals you’ve got someone at the centre of a very tiny feeling, looking out into the hugeness of it all and equating the two – so there are different perspectives and interpretations. You’ve got Crashlander where someone comes into your life, then you’ve got Launch Yourself where someone leaves your life. I think to pick one song would kind of negate the point of it.”
Further discussion of the differences between his two albums reveals that where Homesongs was built to ‘stand the test of time,’ Planets is “built to grow, like a seed; it relishes repeated listens. The more you explore it the more you’ll discover. I really pushed that with this record.”
Talk of influences on his work reveals that he’s “more influenced by my friends and the people around me than any specific sort of music” – something that makes a lot of sense given the intimate lyrical content with which he deals.
Coughs and sneezes notwithstanding, he is animated about the forthcoming tour: “I’ve got a fantastic new band together – a five-piece, all swapping round, with loads of different instruments, everyone singing – we’ve got a bass, a double bass, glockenspiel, guitars, auto-harps, bells, shakers, violins, viola… all manner of things.” Rather than chance to ask what an auto-harp is, by this point I’m genuinely in awe of the enthusiasm Adem holds for his music (he is never just excited about something, or even ‘really’ excited, but always “really, really” excited), which spills over into another passion of his, the Homefires festival that runs over two days in London’s Conway Hall.
But before getting to that, I am keen to see what he makes of the ‘folk-tronica’ tag that he is so often labelled with (for better or worse, even at the start of this feature): “It’s a bizarre one isn’t it? New-folk, old-folk, anti-folk, freak-folk… I don’t know. I don’t have much time for labels to be honest. It makes it easy for people to know what to buy sometimes. I think the problem with this kind of music is that when people describe it they’re not particularly clear about what they mean – it’s definitely not ‘folk’ as such, but is it ‘new-folk’? The singer James Yorkston says – it’s a dirty word – but he thinks that we’re all singer-songwriters. And I think he might be right.”
So then, what of the Homefires festival? “Basically, it’s an excuse for me to watch all the bands that I’m really into – all in one go – and at the same time give other people an opportunity to hear the music I’m loving.” I can’t help but splutter out “that’s pretty cool” round about here. “Yeah,” Adem replies, “it’s great. I always try and think of myself as a kid, and think what I would have liked to have seen or liked to have done, and try and make it affordable and all this sort of stuff ‘cause… that’s important to me.” It’s commendable stuff, indeed.
Our interview nears its end with the happy revelation that he and former bandmates, Kieran Hebden and Sam Jeffers, have reunited, with prospective new Fridge material out early next year. How does he feel about this?
“Really, really excited. It’s sounding great, and it’s been an absolute joy to hang out with my mates again.” (The three began making music at school together.) “We’ve all been so busy that having something like this is just a reason to get together and have some fun. All three of us have been totally off the map, so it’s been fantastic.”
Film Ewen gives us a sneaky insight into his life north of Hadrian’s Wall
Left-eye Lopez’s tragic demise
Bursting out of the traps like a sprightly ‘Nu Rave’ greyhound is Gravity’s Rainbow. While the band might have since started a cult, popularised glow-sticks and revived indie-dance music, this re-released track is perhaps their finest moment, with thumping drums and a bass line to die for.
The Sound of Young Cardiff
Right, first off, I really hate it when people, namely students, bang on about programmes they used to watch when they were young. The top three offending programmes are as follows: Super Ted. Danger Mouse and the Magic Roundabout.
The alternative evening to the volume next door begins with The Spencer McGarry Season, a three man band from Cardiff, who boast a delightfully upbeat, eclectic sound, with jangly guitars and effortless vocals. Both charming and infectious, they’ll make you tap your feet, smile and bob your head like a dickhead. Maybe it’s the braces.
Nick leans on the bar, pint in hand; his head nodding slightly to the music. His face is masked by long, greasy strands of hair, (he tells people that he hasn’t had it cut in over a year with a sense of pride). At last the headlining band come on stage, and Nick downs his pint and lurches forward into the crowd.
In between spay-painting small horses with swastikas and sniffing glue the youth of today still like to chew the fat from time to time. Unfortunately the cretins have adopted a bizarre type of new-speak which can leave “me-mans” (myself and some of my close friends) “well vexed” (Perplexed, Peeved). That’s where the Urban dictionary comes in. With this peer monitored compendium of British and American slang you can find out what the little twazocks actually said to you before you walked off full of impotent rage and self loathing. Yay. To elaborate. After hearing a rap-tune recently I heard the word “skeet” a term with which I was unfamiliar. Consulting the Urban dictionary I discovered that skeet is a verb that describes, “Bustin’ a nut in a skizzles grill” or, the act of ejaculating onto a woman’s face. Other notable explanations submitted included the rather quaint: “To drop a banana item in Mario Kart 64, thereby causing a trailing opponent to slip on it and skid out” and the colorful “Something I would love to do on the Olsen twins. “The real fun lies in contrasting the Neanderthal with the surely mock-serious entries. Of course some helpful souls point out the real meaning of the word (something to do with clay pigeon shooting) but it is all done very tongue in cheek. A running dialogue on the site led one poster to claim it was a word which White people only heard about from the comedian Dave Chapelle. This in turn led one of his fellows to inform us that it is a completely fictional word invented by black people because they needed something to do in between collecting welfare cheques. As if via osmosis the stupidity seeps into you brain and you can impress the Gs in your hood with your newfound knowledge and/or prejudices lest ye be merced by your in the know peers.
The final frontier for humanity,or a distraction from life on Earth?