Gustav Temple meets the eighties pop star who stepped out into music hall on a European tour last year.
During the eighties, lots of people were wearing suits and there was even a brief flirtation with the 1940s. But your 80s look always seemed to come from the heart. How important are clothes to you today?
Onstage, very. Offstage, I’m always trying to figure out how to dress well without being a dandy or attracting too much attention. But I do hate what I call the Slobbification of modern life. Things like, people showing up at the theatre in shorts and flip-flops. That, and the atrocious state of gents’ trousering. All those low-waisted, too-short ‘skinny pants’ – anyone would think we had trouser fabric rationing!
In 2017 you penned a heartfelt paean to the dry martini. Where have you had the best dry martinis served to you?
Paris, by an old geezer in a white jacket, and Madrid, by an old geezer in a red jacket.
Which other cocktails do you consider essential elements of a sophisticated life (if indeed you crave such a thing)?
A well-made Old Fashioned – not too sweet, not too bitter, with a good strong Bourbon or Rye and a single large ice cube. I’m also a fan of the Sazerac – the official cocktail of my favourite US city, New Orleans.
Is it possible to maintain standards while on tour, or do you ever have to sink as low as drinking lager from a can?
A cocktail kit accompanies me on the road. Anyone who works with me can tell you about Case Forty-Nine.
Your latest album pays homage to music hall singer Max Champion. Do you see any connection between old-time music hall and your own earlier musical output?
I did my first gigs as a teenager, playing the piano in pubs, and I played a lot of music hall songs before I knew anything about the history of it. I was also getting the influence second-hand, so to speak, from Ray Davies, Paul McCartney, Ian Dury or Madness. I’m not sure how much of an influence it is on my songwriting, but I do admire the clever wordplay and the humour, and my hat’s off to anyone who can write a tune that everyone wants to sing along with. Anyway, the music hall element is a strain in British pop that goes way back to before our culture became Americanised, and I think it’s in our DNA.
Where do you think the music of Max Champion sits in the modern era? Would it be the equivalent of Chas & Dave, or is it more like, say, Oasis?
Well, these songs are very ahead of their time. For instance in the Thespian’s Lament you have a self-indulgent actor who wants to tell the world his political opinions; in Monty Mundy, an Englishman who ‘identifies’ as Maltese; and in Health and Safety, a send-up of the kind of ‘zero risk’ thinking that makes things so miserable these days. So Max might fit in pretty well.
Are there any other vintage periods or styles of music history you favour and may one day tackle yourself?
Some people seem to think I have a list of musical genres and I go down it ticking them off! It’s actually the complete opposite, I have no agenda or ‘plan’, I’m guided purely by intuition. Mostly what I do is an eclectic mishmash of styles, because I have such a varied background in music and that’s just who I am. I think my ‘style’ is, whatever I do that other people don’t.
There are some who opine that the 20th century version of pop music ended some time in the early 2000s, and that the ‘rock star’ is no longer a relevant icon for our times. Do you agree?
That may well be true. At any rate, in the 20th century popular music became hugely important to young people, in a way it never was before and may never be again. I could feel sad about that, but no one’s stopping me from making, or listening to, music I like, so I concentrate on that. And I have no interest in being trendy – let alone a rock star.
Should people still celebrate the hellraisers of the past such as Keith Moon, or should we shake our heads and wonder sadly what afflicted people like him mentally?
Why not both?
Do you make your own nine-piece band wear shirts and bow ties, or are they expected to dress more formally?
I think our stage outfits reflect the music, i.e. Edwardian with a sort of modern festive Technicolour twist. An actual Edwardian band would have been all men, in respectable dark suits, but we are an eccentric bunch of six men and four women and we’re here to party!
We’ve seen you in plenty of trilbies and pork-pie hats, but have you ever been drawn to the wide-brimmed fedora or top hat?
I have a sort of ‘signature hat’ that a lot of people call a pork-pie, but a pork-pie would have a narrower brim. I’ve been reliably informed that mine is actually a Flat-Top Homburg.
