Riding for Recognition Bike

Rip It Up, Issue 241, 1 September 1997, Page 22

Riding for Recognition Bike

Four storeys up from Queen Street, IN AN OFFICE ADJACENT TO THE FLYING NUN BOARDROOM WHERE ANDREW BROUGH IS SEATED, ROLLING A CIGARETTE A SCRAWLED FAX PINNED TO THE WALL READS; ‘Phew! This Bike single moves like a MOTHERFUCKER! / can SEE NOW WHY HE sacked Straitjacket Fits!’

Brough, the leader of Auckland trio Bike, parted ways with Straitjacket Fits at the tail end of 1991. At that point, armed with an American major label deal, the Straitjackets were widely heralded as the biggest international hope for antipodean pop music. As events transpired, the Fits said goodbye at New Zealand’s inaugural Big Day Out in 1994. By then, Bike was the only band on

Brough’s mind. Three years on, Bike’s second single ‘Circus Kids’ is turning ears, and their debut album, Take In The Sun, has just hits the record

stores. Ensconced at the Nun offices in promo mode, Brough is reluctant to dwell on the past, but agrees to a few queries as to his state of mind when he left the Fits.

“It was at a time when I started to see I had the ability to write music, and that I could

write good songs. I didn’t feel that I was

contributing enough to the music, and felt that if I was true to myself I had to go out and do it on my own, and not be under the coat-tails of another songwriter who was essentially the leader of the band. It was important for me to prove to myself that I could do it on my own, which is what the last few years have been about.

“There was no doubt that Straitjackets were on a good wicket, and by leaving there was a certain amount of feeling of missing the boat. That said, at that particular time, being a big pop star wasn’t the important thing to me. Initially we thought, ‘we’re going to be pop

stars’, but when it started to happen I wasn’t overly impressed by it. The bullshit that goes along with being in a big pop band is just that, bullshit.”

Did your experiences with the band leave you resentful or bitter?

“No, I’m not bitter about it. I was left with certain cynicisms about the record industry; essentially music is a product, and I think musicians are exploited so record companies can make dollars selling units. You have to realise that if you want to pursue music, that’s part of the deal, if you want to reject the industry, don’t moan when you’re not

achieving. It sometimes seems hypocritical for me now, because I despise the industry within which I’m working, but I’m still striving to achieve in it. You do make compromises, and you do play the game, because in the end it’s all about selling records, getting the music out there and across to as many people as

possible.” What lessons did you learn from being in the Straitjackets? “The main thing I learnt from Straitjacket Fits was democracy in bands doesn’t work.

One thing I have undertaken with Bike is, I want control over the creative aspects of the music so that I’m totally happy. I don’t want to be seen as a musical dictator that can’t hold a band together. I realise that the band is an important part of getting the music across, but my preference is that the responsibility of the creative force of the music is all mine.” How does working with Flying Nun now, differ from the Fits days? “It’s fair to say that Flying Nun is a different company now. I see Flying Nun at the moment as in a transitional phase between the old school bands, and them looking at heading into the 21st century and surviving. For Bike, it’s good timing because the company’s not swamped with a whole lot of brilliant bands as they were in the 80s. We’re in a fortunate position that they’re prepared to spend money and time on Bike.”

Are there any songs on the Bike album that relate directly to the Fits experience? “The sole song that pertains to the Fits is ‘Old and Blue’, that was a conscious reference to the band. It may not make any sense to anyone else, but it does to me.” After his departure from Straitjacket Fits, Brough returned to his hometown Dunedin, reluctant to leap straight back into musical life; “As soon as I finished with the Fits it was a case of throwing the guitar out the window and not having anything to do with writing music. ” Midway through 1992, he assembled a band and called it Bike, but at that stage Brough had no serious intentions for the

band. That would come when he shifted back to Auckland.

“Auckland is the first step towards the big wide world so there was the feeling that if I stayed in Dunedin I was missing the boat. I didn’t want to be one of those people who ended up residing in Dunedin throughout my 30s, feeling like I hadn’t made the best effort to get my music out.

“I regard the beginning of Bike properly as happening at the beginning of 95 with Karl Buckley [drums] and Tristan Mason [bass], when I decided that was the line-up I wanted to go on with. I like to think that even though the name Bike had been bandied around for quite a few years, it’s actually only a two year old band.”

With that in mind, Brough is content with the pace that Bike have adopted; a debut EP, Save My Life out in 1996, and Take In The Sun out this month.

“While there was that gap between leaving the Fits and ‘Save My Life’, that time was required to sort things out. I needed to get my head around whether I did want to do the music thing, and it took me a few years to realise I did want to take it as far as I can. Once the band was up and running, we were in the studio recording the EP within a year, and a year after that, an album, so I’m happy with the progress.”

Did it seem odd to be nominated as Most Promising Band at the Music Awards this year, when personally you've been around since the mid 80s?

“It felt odd personally because I had a long history and I’m not exactly new to the scene, but as far as Bike goes and the public’s

awareness of the band goes, we are a new, and possibly promising band.” That nomination, and last year's APRA Silver Scrolls nomination for 'Save My Life’ — do those industry accolades mean much? “It’s nice to get a pat on your back, but it’s not a priority for me to be recognised by the industry in New Zealand. If the new album wasn’t up for best New Zealand album next year it wouldn’t disappoint me in the slightest.”

Bike recorded Take In The Sun in Auckland on and off for three months, across the summer of 96/97. “It was good having the gaps because it meant you could take time out and get a perspective on what you were doing,” says Brough. During his Fits days, Brough was most recognised for his dreamy, chiming guitar ballads, ‘Down in Splendour’ and ‘Sparkle That Shines’ — the antithesis of Shayne Carter’s writhing, muscular pop epics. Brough says his songwriting style has stayed, “pretty consistent” since the Fits; he sees little progression in his manner of writing, but that’s not a problem.

“If I was to delve into different musical styles, that might be regarded as progression, but essentially I’m working within the

traditional perimeters of songwriting, and I’m quite happy to work within those confines. Contrary to some opinion, I don’t think

working within that verse/chorus structure has been exhausted, even though it would seem that way, as a lot of the Top 40 pop is

rehashed songs that sound like other songs. It’s basically about convincing people they can still have faith in a three and a half minute

pop song, that originality can still exist within that format.”

Did you wish to have a feel or a mood running through the record? “Yeah, the feel is essentially melancholy, even the songs that have a brighter feel about them. I like to have a melancholic edge to it — a genuine, honest feel about the music. People can relate to that and pick up on that melancholy, and say, ‘Life isn’t all a bunch of roses, there is quite a bit of sadness about

existence.’ Working through that sadness is aided by listening to music that projects that

sort of feel. It’s because I feel that way, obviously it’s going to come through in the music.” Was it a therapeutic album for you? “It definitely is for me. The day I finished making it I thought, ‘well, I think I’ll head off home now, and give music a miss,’ but it really doesn’t work out that way. It’s a bit difficult to know now what my goals are.” Actually, Brough’s goals seem crystal clear — he craves acceptance as an artist, and outward appearances suggest all his hopes are pinned on Bike. “Believing in yourself as a musician means that you want people to hear what you’re creating, there is that need for validation. There isn’t a need for pop stardom, in the sense that I don’t want to be recognised by every person in the street. But as an artist, you’re just driven by this need to be recognised, it’s not enough to sit in your bedroom and come up with a great song, the first thing you think is, ‘other people have to hear this.’ It’s important for me to be recognised as a songwriter in New Zealand, and if I can be recognised further abroad ' that’s even better.” What level are your ambitions for the album pegged at? “It’s really important for me that Flying Nun work towards, not just the domestic market, but work towards getting the album happening overseas. If this doesn’t happen, I’m going to be very disappointed because you can’t sell enough records in New Zealand to make a living. Part of my thing of wanting recognition is, I want it to be as international as possible. If a teenage kid in America is saying, ‘Bike are great,’ that’s what I want. The best buzz I ever had, in terms of recognition, was when the New York Times did a review of the Straitjackets and they selected one of my songs and printed the lyrics in bold print. I like that sort of thing, that’s recognition, it makes you feel that you’re making some headway internationally.” You mentioned you'd be disappointed if the album doesn't happen... “I’m not saying that if it doesn’t work out with this album then that’s it, but with the Straitjackets, there was always this feeling of progress, and it’s important to me that happens with Bike. So far, there has been progress, but if you start to feel like you’re stagnating...” In terms of the band, are you a day-by day or five year plan type of person? “I starting to think in terms of the five year plan, two years of that has gone already. In three years time it will be time to assess everything. How old are you now? early 305.” Turning 30 has obviously had a major affect on you, what is it about that age? “There’s a lot of pressures; a lot of your peers are maybe working in good careers, they may have families, own their own houses, and then you start thinking, ‘shit, I’m way behind.’ In western society that’s a huge pressure and you start to feel it in your 30s, you want to have some stability as well. It’s that old cliche that if you haven’t made it by 35, your chance of achieving what you wanted is over. Often it’s in the 30s that musicians says ‘stuff it!,’ and give up, they think their too old to be on stage — ‘am I too old to rock?’ But I never feel that at all, there’s not a date that you have to get out.” How's life in general? “Life in general doesn’t get much of a think about these days, I tend to get up and worry about the music thing for the time being. Personally speaking, it seems like a transitional phase of my life going from your 20s where you want to be in a pop band, to that 30s thing where you start to think that you need some security in your life, whether it’s financial or emotional, whatever. In your 30s, there’s more internal and external pressures to have those things; having your own house is a cornerstone of stability in this society. Sometimes I think, ‘yeah, I would like to work towards that, but is music going to help me achieve buying my own house?’ I’ve been quite prepared to suffer the financial of being a musician in this country, to make sacrifices for the music, but I guess it’ll come to a point in a few years time where I’ll have to sit down and decide if music is going to provide me with a stable lifestyle.”

JOHN RUSSELL