WELCOME TO MY CRIB
On their second album, ‘The New Fellas’, The Cribs spit resentment like sporadic gunfire into the venues where their peers play, and in Gary Jarman, they have a defiant and genuine rock and roll growler, as Una Mullally found out when she talked to the bassist.
Over the passed couple of weeks, I haven’t really bothered listening to indie music. I’m bored. The British indie scene has undergone incredible reconstruction in just over a year, propelling relatively average bands in great numbers to heights previously reserved for rock veterans. I’m sick of the mimicking nature of most of them, so I’ve stayed clear. I’m sick of their attitudes towards music, as a career to be carved from NME column inches and units shifted (not that they see any of the profits, as they are busy repaying their record label advance dough.) This interview with The Cribs was in the context of a few evil and band experiences. The Kills refused an interview (“I’m having dinner in Switzerland at the moment” said the preposterously nicknamed ‘Hotel’ guitarist), Janet from Sleater-Kinney wouldn’t answer her phone, Humanzi spoke of grand plans that don’t seem to fit with their quality, The Posies were rude-ish, Aimee Mann cut me off and if I heard one more ‘I’m a 9 to 5 Rudeboy’ song from The Projected Career Paths or whoever, my teeth may have been stuck in the grating position forever. I was not looking forward to interviewing The Cribs.
The three brothers from Wakefield, West Yorkshire are about to release their second record. It’s a soundtrack of bitterness and antipathy towards their peers and an industry that fosters mediocrity. “I was just sayin’ this to our kid the other day,” begins Jarman, mangling his words with accent and force, “I think the scene’s dead. It’s dead. Indie bands are starting off with the intention of being on Top Of The Pops. I don’t buy that shit. I didn’t start this band to be on telly.” Jarman’s biggest complaint is that of every frustrated rebel. Why is everyone else such a bunch of idiot sellouts, thinking they can work the system for their own benefit when the opposite occurs? Throughout the interview, he rants about it. Angry, sometimes dejected, but always with a self-reassuring consolation that The Cribs aren’t like that. Proceed rant:
“The way it’s working now is not fair on bands who have integrity. There are lots of bands who don’t want the celebrity aspect, and they get lumped in with this indie shit clogging the charts. It’s kind of sad. You can buy Ramones T-shirts in Top Shop. It’s so depressing. I hate careerist bands. Writing autobiographically is good if it’s hones,t but I don’t wanna listen to a guy sing about his Playstation. It’s just dull. I don’t feel like we’ve got many peers. A lot of them are prepared to do stuff we aren’t. It’s not a conscious effort the way we behave – it’s who we are. We don’t play ball and we do certain things that handicap us without even knowing it. We’ve got a pre-programmed self-destruct button that stops us getting to a certain point. We’re not a safe bet and it’s nice to be the underdog. I think a lot of these bands will look back and cringe at the shit they did. We take pride in different things than other bands do. We’ve done a lot of this without the industry’s help. My goals haven’t changed since I started this band. I still feel like I’m in a band in a garage. There is no pretence with us. We have a good laugh and we’re full on. It sounds like a fucking cliché, but I don’t even know what to expect when we go onstage.”
With a few more shouts and screams and bloody good points amid frustration and rage, Jarman leaves to play a gig with his two brothers. And their music, (which I was about to dismiss) has a more meaningful air, now that I know that there’s fire burning in that band.
On their second album, ‘The New Fellas’, The Cribs spit resentment like sporadic gunfire into the venues where their peers play, and in Gary Jarman, they have a defiant and genuine rock and roll growler, as Una Mullally found out when she talked to the bassist.
Over the passed couple of weeks, I haven’t really bothered listening to indie music. I’m bored. The British indie scene has undergone incredible reconstruction in just over a year, propelling relatively average bands in great numbers to heights previously reserved for rock veterans. I’m sick of the mimicking nature of most of them, so I’ve stayed clear. I’m sick of their attitudes towards music, as a career to be carved from NME column inches and units shifted (not that they see any of the profits, as they are busy repaying their record label advance dough.) This interview with The Cribs was in the context of a few evil and band experiences. The Kills refused an interview (“I’m having dinner in Switzerland at the moment” said the preposterously nicknamed ‘Hotel’ guitarist), Janet from Sleater-Kinney wouldn’t answer her phone, Humanzi spoke of grand plans that don’t seem to fit with their quality, The Posies were rude-ish, Aimee Mann cut me off and if I heard one more ‘I’m a 9 to 5 Rudeboy’ song from The Projected Career Paths or whoever, my teeth may have been stuck in the grating position forever. I was not looking forward to interviewing The Cribs.
The three brothers from Wakefield, West Yorkshire are about to release their second record. It’s a soundtrack of bitterness and antipathy towards their peers and an industry that fosters mediocrity. “I was just sayin’ this to our kid the other day,” begins Jarman, mangling his words with accent and force, “I think the scene’s dead. It’s dead. Indie bands are starting off with the intention of being on Top Of The Pops. I don’t buy that shit. I didn’t start this band to be on telly.” Jarman’s biggest complaint is that of every frustrated rebel. Why is everyone else such a bunch of idiot sellouts, thinking they can work the system for their own benefit when the opposite occurs? Throughout the interview, he rants about it. Angry, sometimes dejected, but always with a self-reassuring consolation that The Cribs aren’t like that. Proceed rant:
“The way it’s working now is not fair on bands who have integrity. There are lots of bands who don’t want the celebrity aspect, and they get lumped in with this indie shit clogging the charts. It’s kind of sad. You can buy Ramones T-shirts in Top Shop. It’s so depressing. I hate careerist bands. Writing autobiographically is good if it’s hones,t but I don’t wanna listen to a guy sing about his Playstation. It’s just dull. I don’t feel like we’ve got many peers. A lot of them are prepared to do stuff we aren’t. It’s not a conscious effort the way we behave – it’s who we are. We don’t play ball and we do certain things that handicap us without even knowing it. We’ve got a pre-programmed self-destruct button that stops us getting to a certain point. We’re not a safe bet and it’s nice to be the underdog. I think a lot of these bands will look back and cringe at the shit they did. We take pride in different things than other bands do. We’ve done a lot of this without the industry’s help. My goals haven’t changed since I started this band. I still feel like I’m in a band in a garage. There is no pretence with us. We have a good laugh and we’re full on. It sounds like a fucking cliché, but I don’t even know what to expect when we go onstage.”
With a few more shouts and screams and bloody good points amid frustration and rage, Jarman leaves to play a gig with his two brothers. And their music, (which I was about to dismiss) has a more meaningful air, now that I know that there’s fire burning in that band.
listening to: Neil Young - 'After The Goldrush' (live)
Una
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