Songs and Sonics

Count me in among those who really like The High Llamas‘ particular brand of licorice.

Over the course of eighteen years and twelve albums, the Llamas have cast a dreamy sonic spell. ’60s California pop, Steely Dan-like studio perfectionism, Moog synthesizer albums, Steve Reich-style minimalism, thrift store vinyl soundtracks, and a bossa nova beat mingle in surprising ways and are wrapped in a distinctly British sensibility.

Some are resistant to the Llamas’ spell, and the various controversies in the music press sometimes threaten to overshadow the band’s accomplishments. Certainly, what The High Llamas do is good enough for Bruce Johnston, who hired Llamas mastermind Sean O’Hagan to produce an eventually aborted Beach Boys comeback album in the late ’90s. A number of other artists have employed Sean’s arranging and session skills to more fruitful ends: Stereolab, Will Oldham, Cornelius, and Louis Philippe, to name a few.

While The High Llamas’ music might not be played in shopping malls around the world, Sean’s influence has certainly spread far and wide: the majority of artists already interviewed for Songs and Sonics have acknowledged his musical influence on their own work. Heck, he’s one of my influences! So it’s definitely a thrill to have him here.

Sean was nice enough to take time out of his busy schedule to chat about 2007’s Can Cladders, the Llamas’ well-received and most accessible outing yet. In fact, if you’ve never heard The High Llamas, Can Cladders is the ideal place to start. (Sean O’Hagan photo by Kev Hopper.)

Sean: I start on nylon string guitar usually, then go to the piano. The arrangements are already taking shape as I write. They kind of arrange themselves in a way. I write chords that lend themselves to arrangements.

I write in fragments sometimes and record these to MiniDisc. I then review the writing, and put these fragments together in a way that I hope defies convention.

A lot later, I start to arrange, even though I know what the arrangement might be.

Very short answer: Listening to records. No training, just listening and trying to work out what is going on. I taught myself to read music only recently and am still a very slow reader. Marcus Holdaway (piano) is trained and helped with the strings. He also helped with my sightreading.

I used old 4-track machines to demo parts. I crudely noted parts and worked with either Marcus or Andy Robinson as I dictated the harmony from piano or guitar. Yes, I suppose I used pencil back then. But the 4-track was essential.

Just getting older and wanted to be absolutely instinctive. I thought I went through a period denying that I loved pop (Carole King, Laura Nyro, Neil Sedaka, The Flamingos), and with age you just stop the fooling around and get on with what you are good at. I know Becker and Fagen are hated by some, but the early LP’s are full of crack pop tunes, as were The Specials, The Beach Boys, The Zombies, ELO, 10cc, Dion and the Belmonts. You can go to any era or style and find great pop — even today. I just wanted the pop I wrote to be a bit different.

Yes, it was happy. I worked at home a lot. But as a process draws on it, it becomes somewhat frustrating as well. I was determined to capture my pop positivity that I had rediscovered. Formerly, I think I was denying the instant melodic ideas I would churn out, mistaking the ease of writing with poor quality. I am glad for any idea now.

I really cannot say what the next record will be like. It’s not in my head, and will not be for a while. I have to do some other stuff before that time comes around again.

I often wonder whether the world can cope with another High Llamas record. We don’t exactly set the world alight when we release a record, and it is hard putting in a real commitment to writing and know that a great number of listeners will stare blankly at the product and wonder why we make this music. I always have to get over that image in my head.

OK.

That’s a chap we know who was a tour manager and gave up touring, preferring the land locked middle England to constant driving for ferry departures.

Aluminum cladding salesmen (tin men… no prize for guessing) and beat poets, sort of meeting up in my little invention. I think it works very nicely. Who needs love.

I was DJing one night and playing Dorothy. The reaction of the folk in the club prompted the second verse:

They were rich kids. Then I brought Dorothy into it as a living person. I imagined the harp as a means of travel for her and the listener.

If there has to be one, lets say Clarion Union Hall. I love the girls’ voices on this tune and the ooh refrain at the end is as close as I got to a classic 60’s girl sound, which chuffs me up. Its my favourite moment on the record.

Once when I was robbed, and once when the good old US border guards really did not want to let me back to the US in El Paso. I had to give them a big load of cash to get over the border.

The line was born to be sung. It was always going to be that. I think the rest of the song wrote itself around that line.

I know what you mean, but do not agree with the premise. I will answer in spirit. How about Queen, You’re My Best Friend.

But that’s a good song! OK… I’ll let you off the hook for that one. What’s next for you and The High Llamas?

Right now, I’m in Rio making an LP with Kassin Kammal (Kassin + 2) . We are co-writing an LP. I hope it works and people like it. It is an experiment, really.

We spent time wondering whether there should be a name. I think it will be Kassin + Sean.

The Llamas have a big show in Ireland where we are doing the music for a narrative written by the wonderful UK novelist Jonathan Coe. The soundtrack is Llamas music from the last eight LPs played live with strings, July 20 in Dublin.

I started out as a construction worker at the age 15 before working in UK car plants.

I suppose they did. As you know, I write about everyday stuff in a narrative way, and an assembly line can produce a storyboard every bit as poetic as a love tragedy.

That’s pretty much where I am, standing on street corners looking up at architecture that most people miss and wondering who drew this stuff up. From there, a story begins.

Pembrokeshire

Birdsong (I’m a recent convert… it happens when you get to 45)

Architecture

Marcos Valle

Anything I hear that makes me rush to the piano

Paul Auster

French movies (1967-1978)

BBC Radio 4 (Embodies England)

School singing. When you hear your own children sing it’s quite wonderful.

Great pubs. Because they usually host great conversations, which in turn inspire.

Thinking about LA and New York as they were in 1968-1971…

The High Llamas’ official web site | The High Llamas’ MySpace page | Order Can Cladders from highllamas.com (UK) | Order Can Cladders from Amazon.com

What does Todd Rundgren’s A True Wizard, A True Star, Prince’s Lovesexy, and Paul Steel’s April & I have in common?

Glorious studio bombast. Song suites. Total record production mastery. All three albums are the sound of an artist at the top of his studio game.

Except Paul Steel’s album isn’t a pinnacle.

It’s a debut.

And it was recorded as a mostly one-man-band effort when he was eighteen years old.

His followup album, Moon Rock, is, for the moment, doing the unfortunate record company shuffle. But April & I — praised by such musical heavyweights as Sean O’Hagan, Van Dyke Parks, and Wondermints — is available now, and it recently found a home on iTunes.

In the following interview, this virtuoso of hyperactive overdubbed pop assures us that — despite having written lyrics to the contrary — he’s not on crack. It’s always good to clear that up.

Paul: It’s my bedroom, so a bed and a wardrobe! Got a desktop PC and monitors hooked up to a rack of preamps and FX. A MIDI keyboard and drum pads for programming. A percussion box full of bells, shakers, scrapers, whistles, and other useless nonsense. A Wagner U47 mic. I like to collect instruments, so I have a cupboard containing my banjo, ukulele, electric sitar, Quattro de Puerto Rico, mandolin, baby accordion, lap steel, and melodica. I keep my favourite guitar and bass with the monsters under the bed.

A few years ago, when I had started recording the tracks for April & I, I was invited to a party at the other end of town. So I took my laptop and microphone along and recorded a gang vocal for a song called Honkin’ (On My Crackpipe). I recorded loads and loads of shouting, inhaling, and some crack-addicted Aberdonian slang.

After the party, at about 3am, a bunch of us headed up the road. One person was dressed as Spiderman and another had a guitar. We found an old alcoholic lady in the street who joined us and penned the Little Tiny Bill song with us. If you type in “Little Tiny Bill” in YouTube you might be able to find it somewhere. So the backing vocalists in Honkin’ (On My Crackpipe) ended up being the Little Tiny Bill Symphonic Choir.

I was always knocked out by the coda to God Only Knows by Brian Wilson. I wanted to do something similar with interwoven counter melodies and stuff.

It’s a lot less specific. I can write about anything I want, and still put a lot of myself and my personality into it.

One day I would definitely like to. I think I want to live a bit more and find a way of translating my thoughts and emotions into standard music notation.

Yes, my mother. Everyone asks, “Do you take crack then?” I say yes, but of course I don’t. I don’t know anyone who does either. It’s part of the story where “I” get corrupted. I am a little bit concerned that kids might listen to it and grow up to be addicts.

Ha ha, I am a fool to myself. I’ll leave the crack for my hardcore techno phase.

I can’t say without relistening to it, but it’s “like the time when my dad caught my trying on old womens clothing”… Don’t ask!

Yes. Yes. I’m obsessed with a Japanese electro-pop artist, Cornelius. April & I’s production pales in comparison to the crazy shit he gets up to! He uses guitars and drum samples in a really insane and creative way that I’m certain could be applied to pop music in a tasteful way. It sounds like it takes a lot of work and attention to detail, though!

I would definitely like to explore more extreme production ideas and techniques, but I’m also keen to master more traditional styles. It’s all educational!

I do get a lot of ideas and write a lot of songs, but I find it difficult to identify which ones are good and which ones are terrible. I’ve been on complete bummers for months just because of a lack of confidence. When I get any writer’s block, I turn into a bit of a workaholic and try to compensate by writing or recording lots of music. But I think it’s a lot more sensible to take break or try writing with other people. Try something different.

Melody: To me, there is no song without a strong, engaging melody. Which is ironic considering most chart-topping tunes are void of any melodic interest!

Arrangement

Harmonic structure

Rhythm

Lyrics

Audio engineering

Solos: Solos can be really good and really lift a song if used cleverly, but they’re not important at all. I particularly hate improvised blues guitar solos and saxophone solos.

Lots of sunshine pop bands like The Association, The Free Design, and Millennium. A friend of mine turned me onto Todd Rundgren’s A Wizard. A True Star and I can’t get enough of it… It’s insane.

Weirdly enough, no. I was on the phone to a producer friend of mine, Charlie Francis, telling him what I was working on and that it was a continuous piece of music. He mentioned that album, and I bought it a few days after I finished April. I wish I had heard it beforehand cause Todd Rundgren used lots of different interesting ways of linking up the tracks that I would’ve liked to employ in my stuff. I’ve only really gotten into it recently. International Feel is one of my favourite tracks ever!

There isn’t a week that goes by that I forget to listen to The Beach Boys or The Super Furry Animals. My friend Ralph told me to “only study greatness,” so I don’t listen to the radio or watch any music television or anything. Most new music is written to be talked about, not listened to.

I’ve just got out of the record deal that has been holding Moon Rock back for the last nine months, so we’re going to be making plans for the release of it soon. We’re getting a animated film made for April & I using ten different animators and filmmakers. It’s looking amazing so far.

I’m hoping it will get into film festivals. The guys making the film are doing things that I think will really blow peoples minds, and they’re all so different. We’re thinking about doing a re-release of April & I with a DVD and maybe a live performance… Maybe.

I’m playing bass for a Brighton band called Stars and Sons. I’ve just finished a song called Ocean that I wrote with Beach Boys collaborator Stephen Kalinich. It’s on my MySpace right now. I’m also doing a project with Nick Littlemore, out of Australian electro band Pnau. Of course, I’m still writing and recording and making plans for myself!

Brighton beach

Pet Sounds

Comedy

California

Rhapsody In Blue

Sunshine

Fruit

Outer space

1960s

Super Furry Animals live

Paul Steel’s web site | Paul Steel’s MySpace page

If you’re a late ’60s sunshine pop fan, you’re in for a treat.

Margo Guryan was a well-educated jazz pianist in the mid-’60s when a friend played her the song God Only Knows, from The Beach Boys‘ (then) brand-new album, Pet Sounds. That one song altered her musical direction permanently:

She became a full-fledged pop songwriter, and her songs were covered by the likes of Jackie DeShannon, Mama Cass, Glen Campbell, Astrud Gilberto, Claudine Longet, Julie London, Spanky And Our Gang, Dion, Harry Nilsson, and others.

In 1968, Margo was given the opportunity to record an album of her own songs. The result, Take A Picture, is a collection of solid Brian Wilson-influenced pop, jazzy psychedelic grooves, and sweetly sung vocals. “I never thought of myself as a singer,” Margo says. But her breathy, multitracked babydoll vocals are made of the stuff that make men swoon, even 40 years after it was recorded.

Unfortunately, because of Margo’s refusal to perform live, Take A Picture went nowhere. No followup albums were released. Margo eventually became a piano teacher.

But about 30 years after Take A Picture’s original release, something unusual happened: Japanese record collectors discovered it. And subsequently went wild over the album.

One thing led to another, and Take A Picture was reissued on CD multiple times in several countries. Bonus tracks were unearthed. A companion album of unreleased recordings, 25 Demos, surfaced in 2001. Accolades from modern pop stars, like Beck and Garbage’s Shirley Manson followed.

And Take A Picture, the little album that hardly anybody paid attention to in 1968, is now widely regarded as a sunshine pop classic.

A chance MySpace encounter led me to asking Margo if she’d like to do an interview for Songs and Sonics. However, just as I was about to send a list of questions, I stumbled across this excellent recorded interview which covered nearly everything I was about to ask! So, armed with this new information, I went back to the drawing board and promised I would ask her “different” questions which were not covered before. In the following interview, we cover both her ’60s work and her return to releasing pop music with her political 2007 single, 16 Words.

Margo: I really don’t know. Take A Picture has been released three times in Japan, the latest being on Sony/BMG. The first release in the late ’90s came as a complete surprise.

I’d really love to know how this started. One day (1998, 1999) David [Rosner, Margo's publisher and husband] received a call from a guy at a small label called Distortions Records. He wanted to re-release Take A Picture because he catered to record collectors and said my album was a frequent request. He said, “Margo’s a star in Japan.” We thought it was pretty weird and David told him to get in touch with Arista (the former Bell Records).

Sometime later, David received a publishing royalty statement from Japan and noticed that all the songs listed were from “TAP.” That’s when we found out a “pirate” version of the album had been issued. I was happy about that, because up until that time, I had only an old-fashioned LP of my record. Now I had a CD…. Wow! I wrote to the company to ask if I could purchase some copies at a publisher’s discount. They responded that they were all sold out, but would send me their last copy for free.

That, to our knowledge, is how it started. Then Cornelius, a Japanese recording artist who had a label, wanted to release it. That was the Trattoria release.

But, Jeff, that’s just how we found out. Though David has sub-publishers and other contacts in Japan, we have never been able to learn why it happened.

I don’t feel I’m living a “parallel life”… it’s the same one. I’ve always written words and music (and words & music) as ideas occur. There was a long period of time when I felt no connection with pop music. I began studying piano again, then teaching. I wrote just words then, or just music (The Chopsticks Variations is a piano piece I wrote for my “kids”.)

I guess The Chopsticks Variations might have been the next thing I wrote (in the ’90s). In teaching Mozart’s variations on Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (Ah, vous dirai je, maman), I found that children loved to play something that was familiar to them.

Anyway, I wondered what I could write that children would know and relate to. The easier variations, as written, have Chopsticks in one hand while the other makes it become a simple piece… Easy to learn!

The impetus for 16 Words began, I think, while reading Joe Wilson’s Politics of Truth. Those words were also prominently featured in Frank Rich’s The Greatest Story Ever Sold. It occurred to me that that lie was representative of all the lies the Bush administration spouted to get us into the Iraq war, wire-tap Americans, torture, etc., etc. And I thought I’d write music to it.

Well, look at the comments on YouTube. There are obviously some people who didn’t like it.

When I was a child, I “made up” poems. As I learned music (I began piano study at age 6), I “made up” songs. My models were the songs I heard, and the songwriters were usually good ones (Cole Porter, Rodgers & Hart, etc.). You absorb form and style (the words always rhymed) when you’re a kid. I was encouraged by my parents (there were only hand-made greeting cards in my home) in every creative field (took art lessons, dance lessons, etc.). But my father once told me, “Songs like yours are a dime a dozen.” He changed his tune after Chris Connor recorded a song of mine (Moon Ride) on Atlantic Records!

I think all writing begins with an idea… a thought, word fragments, a snippet of melody. I’d go to the piano and (more or less) let it happen.

My father once asked me if I could make myself get an idea. I said, “No.” He said, “That’s God.” I thought that was interesting, but I don’t really buy it. You’d have to be some kind of brain surgeon to even begin to understand where ideas come from.

The “idea” for Thoughts was to write a song containing only two-word phrases. The answer section and vocal backgrounds in the bridge occurred while recording.

I thought at the time that Sunday Morning was much more risqué: do what other people do on Sunday morning. But no one else seemed to think so.

I didn’t recognize that line as risqué until you mentioned it… Now I’m trying to think of other dirty lines in your songs that I might’ve missed!

Keep looking.

Just for fun, actually. If you listen to that song in demo form (25 Demos) you won’t find the burlesque atmosphere. I wanted to write an old-timey song a la Harry Nilsson. I think the crowd was (producer) John Hill’s idea. Gave me a chance to invite some friends and relatives into the studio. The whistle belongs to GayeAnn, my cousin Peter’s wife. None of the guys could match her construction worker gusto!

Nothing mysterious or arcane about this one! It’s exactly what it claims to be: telling someone who was a good friend that a change had occurred. (I married him.)

Still is!

Ooh…cornered. I don’t have an iPod. I listen to Thom Hartmann and Randi Rhodes and watch Keith Olbermann. I do check out some of the music posted on MySpace and have found occasional gems.

There’s a song I love on the 20 Minute Loop page. I think it’s called Ambassadors.

This is “iffy.” I had recorded 5 tracks when the idea for 16 Words hit me. I wanted very much to finish that song first. While working on it, one co-producer left and John Hill helped finish it up. Then John left for the East coast. John had written some gorgeous string parts for a few of the other tracks and I didn’t want to proceed without him. I may decide to finish them up… and may not. Don’t know.

I don’t like rites! I never wanted to get married, I just wanted to be married. I don’t like funerals… gone is gone. A diploma is great, but graduations are a bore. Awards are nice, but earning the award is where the satisfaction is. I’ll do without the ceremonies, thanks.

Thanks, Jeff… You too! Good (and different) questions!

A child doing anything well.

Discovering a new Bach or Scarlatti piece.

Discovering an old Randy Newman song.

Barack Obama.

Learning a mystery’s solution.

Dreams. (But only good ones.)

Surprises. (But only good ones.)

Watching kittens play.

Seeing a great performance.

Silence. (Especially at the dinner table when I’ve prepared the dinner.)

Margo Guryan’s official web site | Margo Guryan’s MySpace page | Order “Take A Picture” or “25 Demos” | Order “16 Words”