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

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”