Interview: The High Llamas
Monday, June 23rd, 2008“Our audience is like people who like licorice. Not everybody likes licorice, but the people who like licorice really like licorice.” -Jerry Garcia
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.)
Jeff: What’s your typical process for writing and arranging a High Llamas song?
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.
Where did you learn to arrange orchestral instruments? Did you have a formal music education?
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.
How did you arrange before you learned to read music?
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.
You’ve said in the past that you were bored of normal song structure. The biggest surprise with Can Cladders is how the Llamas have gone from deconstructing the pop song to outright embracing it. What prompted the change?
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.
The Llamas always had a playful side, but on Can Cladders it sounds like you’re actually having a good time. Was this a happy album to make?
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.
Do you see the Llamas going further down the path of straightforward, catchy pop?
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.
On previous albums, you’ve said that some of your lyrics were created by stringing together lines about unrelated stories you’ve written. The end result is that there isn’t any literal meaning to the lyrics — though they often paint a striking mental picture. Could you share some examples from your songs where you used this technique, and what the stories were about?OK.
The frost is on the ground and the ferry’s far away / Living in the old spring town.
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.
All the can cladders and poets were there / The read through room was just upstairs / Tearing through the pages / And swinging the chairs
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.
Can you break down how you wrote “Dorothy Ashby?” It’s a surprisingly direct song for the Llamas.
I was DJing one night and playing Dorothy. The reaction of the folk in the club prompted the second verse:
Down the concrete steps and into the night club / These are folk who fare above us all.
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.
What’s your favorite track on Can Cladders?
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.
How many times have you been to Mexico?
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.
Wow — the way that line is used in “The Old Spring Town” makes Mexico sound so… fun! Was that line supposed to be sarcastic, did you just like the way it sounded, or… am I reading too much into it?
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.
What are some of your musical guilty pleasures?
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?
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.
Whose name will the album be under?
We spent time wondering whether there should be a name. I think it will be Kassin + Sean.
What else do you have going on?
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.
What’s something about you that your fans did not know — until now?
I started out as a construction worker at the age 15 before working in UK car plants.
Did those jobs ever influence your songwriting later on?
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.
Ten (or maybe eleven) things which inspire Sean O’Hagan