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Make Room For Elbow
01/11/2002 8:00 PM, Yahoo! Music
Lyndsey Parker
The day that one's debut album hits stores is obviously a major milestone for any budding baby band. But for Mancunian melancholists Elbow, it was a particularly special occasion--one they once doubted they'd ever get the chance to celebrate.
"We didn't believe the album had come out until we walked into a shop and saw it on the shelves," laughs Elbow's impish guitarist, Mark Potter, as he recalls the magical moment when he and his incredulous bandmates--Guy Garvey (vocals/guitar), Pete Turner (bass), Richard Jupp (drums), and younger brother Craig Potter (keyboards)--realized that their long-delayed but much-acclaimed Asleep In The Back had finally, officially been released. "We were actually touring when the album came out. We were in Cardiff, in Wales, and on the day of the release the band went down to the record store and went in and kind of stood there and shook hands: 'Well done, boys--we finally got it out!' It was a good feeling--really good."
Horror stories of label/band wranglings and manglings are more common than Friday The 13th horror sequels, but Elbow have stumbled over more obstacles and jumped over more hurdles than most while traversing the course that's brought them to this point. "It was almost like a comedy, with an anvil above our head, waiting for it to drop--and it finally did!" is how Mark describes the group's past few troubled years. After they recorded their all-important debut full-length for Island Records way back in '99, the label decided it needed to cut unnecessary expenses, and unfortunately, that included Elbow ("A&R was told to drop 5 percent of their roster, and we were part of that 5 percent," grumbles Craig). EMI soon came a-courtin', only to withdraw their offer at the last minute, so Elbow were unusually fortunate, if more than a little wary, when they got a third and final shot--this time with V2, their current label home. The third time was indeed the charm, but then they couldn't get the rights to the original Asleep In The Back back from Island, so they had completely re-record it all over again.
"We were very lucky to get another chance to make the same record, really," Mark points out sensibly. "Even though we had gone through a lot of effort to make it with Island, we weren't as experimental the first time around. We were a little bit safe with it, I think, because we were aware of what was going on in the label. We didn't explore the tunes as much."
"We were ourselves more on this [second, final version of the] album," Craig asserts. "It's a lot more about experimenting now. It's exactly what we want, really--which is what we should have done in the first place. It's a lot better."
"All the ideas we had when tracking the record were really bold, and our producer was encouraging us to throw ideas at the wall--just hooking up random effects pedals, just playing with sound," Guy elaborates. He then admits, "But the closer we got to finishing the album, when we got to the mixing stage, that's when the heat was really on with the label, and we sort of copped out. I wonder how the other one would have done; I haven't listened to it since the day I found out that we didn't own it."
So, turns out there's a tidy, happy ending to the Elbow saga after all: The newer, improved, and decidedly more exploratory version of Asleep In The Back--imagine current-day Radiohead reinterpreting their more melodic early-period material, for starters, or maybe the Beta Band performing an underwater rock opera penned by Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips--has been a massive critical success in Britain, snagging a nomination for the prestigious Mercury Music Prize and landing on numerous year-end top 10 lists. And now, just as the album is being released in America, even multiple-Grammy-nominated megastars are declaring their love for Elbow: "We just read an interview with Bono and Adam Clayton, and they were asked what they're listening to and they both said, 'Elbow, Asleep In The Back.' Had we heard that 10 years ago, we would have never believed it. That was amazing!" gushes Mark.
Yet Guy, the type of dry-humored, hangdog-faced gent who, one gets the impression, probably always sees the glass not as half-full or half-empty but just plain empty, shrugs, "It's easy in retrospect to say that it's good this happened and good that we got a second chance to make the record again--but it didn't make it any easier at the time."
Elbow's thunderous yet ethereal clamor thankfully steers clear of the clichés of so many of today's chest-thumping nu-metal angst-mongers and weepy emo eunuchs, but not surprisingly, considering how the band has suffered, it is still undeniably bitter, brittle, brooding stuff. Harrowing subject matter includes substance abuse ("Red," "Powder Blue," "Don't Mix Your Drinks"), small-town isolation and desperation ("Any Day Now," "Bitten By The Tailfly"), and the terror of becoming truly vulnerable in the throes of all-consuming love ("Newborn")--all delivered unflinchingly and unfussily via Guy's gruff whisper-to-a-scream vocals and brutally honest words.
"A lot of the songs that we write, the mood of them and the lyrics, reflect the way we felt for 10 years, which hasn't always been great," a grizzled Guy says matter-of-factly. "It's been very unhappy at times; we sacrificed a great deal to keep cracking at this. There was a point where we couldn't even get six people down to a gig--even family wouldn't come!--and I sacrificed quite an important relationship in order to keep going. The music's really about that."
Because Elbow draw from very real, very tough life experiences to create their murky, miserable sounds, they make genuine connections with listeners in need of sonic solace. "If you're feeling depressed, then you don't feel like listening to Julie Andrews; if you want comfort, then you don't put uptempo pop records on at that point. You want to hear that somebody else has felt like you, and you want a little bubble to retire into for a while, and I think that's the kind of record we've made," Guy explains. "It's just a very cheap shot to say that we're miserable--so fine, then, go buy a 5 Star LP!"
Guy remembers one fan who was particularly affected and comforted by Elbow's music: "I got an email off a lady who had read something I'd said in the NME about wanting to make music that people can relate to in the dark times," he beings quietly. "Her husband had come see the band when she was pregnant, and then the baby died when it was 6 weeks old, and she had 'Newborn' played at the baby's cremation. And it was just very simply put in a few lines: She said that in the NME article, when I'd said that I just want to relate to people when they're at their worst, she wanted to pass on that's exactly what happened. That was the biggest compliment I had; that was also the scariest responsibility that I've ever connected with music. And it's their song now, it's that couple's song now--it means far more to them now than it ever does to me."
Wow. That is intense indeed. Isn't it difficult and draining for Guy to revisit and remember such moments of darkness and despair every time he performs Elbow's songs, most of which were inspired by his own real-life crises? "The big kick is that I've turned negative experience into good songs--I can't think of another job where you get to do that," he reasons. "Exorcising your demons, screaming at 200 or 300 people every night about the things closest to your heart, is fantastic therapy. It just leaves you very relaxed."
Naturally, given the fact that Elbow create epics of ennui and hail from England, comparisons to a certain other group of miserable Brits are inescapable. But after toiling for years in obscurity, Elbow certainly don't mind being compared to a band as successful and admired as the aforementioned Radiohead. "It's very flattering--they are a fantastic band, a direct influence on us," Guy declares with seemingly uncharacteristic enthusiasm. "They're certainly in our top five favorite bands ever, so I don't ever mind being compared to them. People compare you to all sorts of stuff, and you don't always agree. Somebody said Moody Blues once--that's one I didn't get."
Moody, yes. Blue, sure. But Moody Blues? Erm, no...a few avant-garde prog elements notwithstanding. But Elbow did get their start churning out classic rock, when teenagers Mark, Pete, and Rich formed a struggling pre-Elbow cover band in their much-maligned northern England hometown of Bury. "We were doing anything we could play. Queen covers, U2 covers...we were playing the intro to one Simple Minds song, 'Don't You Forget About Me,' and we could only play the intro, but it sounded great, so we played it over and over again," Mark recollects with a chuckle.
Coming of age in the claustrophobic suburb that inspired "Bitten By The Tailfly" no doubt shaped the sometimes oppressive cheerlessness of Elbow's music; from how they describe Bury, it doesn't sound like the most hospitable environment for creating art. "The thing we didn't like about [Bury] was that 'lad' mentality: going to a club, getting completely drunk, and if you don't get a girl, you look for a fight," explains Mark. "That kind of thing, which I'm sure exists everywhere, is rife in Bury."
One might assume that Elbow would be heroes in their hometown--the local boys done good--but even though their photo is now hanging up in the staff room of their former high school ("Some or our old teachers came down to the gigs, which was pretty weird," says Mark), they haven't exactly endeared themselves to all the townfolk. "Guy made a few comments in an interview about Bury being a sh-thole, which didn't go down well with the Bury Council!" laughs Craig. "So I wouldn't exactly say that we're heroes in Bury..."
Elbow have long since defected to nearby Manchester--where they're part of a vibrant scene that includes their friends Doves, Alfie, I Am Kloot, Haven, and Badly Drawn Boy--though these days they're just as likely to call their tour bus home, as they continue playing seismic gig after gig to promote their album. The experiences they've endured, from their lowly cover-band beginnings to their current status as British press darlings and all the hardships in between, have turned these longtime bandmates into the best of friends--even if they didn't always get along ("There's one story about Mark stabbing Rich in the back with a compass during a math class when they were all in school together, and he punched Pete in the face in primary school, but Pete wasn't a nice guy when he was in primary school; he was addicted to sugar, hyperactive, and a little bit irritating!" Guy quips)--and being on the road is only strengthening their bond. "We're very close, and if anything, we're getting closer," marvels Guy. "I was always worried that when we went on tour there would be divisions--I thought that being kids in a tin can flying around the world, being in each other's pockets every day, would damage relationships. But exactly the opposite has been the case. If somebody's strung-out and missing home, chances are somebody else is as well, so we support each other. At the beginning, we didn't hang out--we rehearsed together and we played together, but we weren't strictly friends. But now we are all very close."
Awwww, how very sweet. So there's the happy Elbow ending readers are looking for, even if Asleep In The Back isn't exactly the feelgood record of the year. "They're not the happiest bunch of songs, are they?" cracks Mark. "But I think it was more frustration on the record. We'd been doing what we we'd been doing for such a long time, you know, and we were frustrated that we weren't getting it out as far as we wanted it to get. So I don't mind being called angsty--the next record is going to be a bit happier. 'Cause we're happier."
Sometimes, good things really do come to those who wait.
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