Page Two:
Main: Mean, lean and green – Kasabian live are a force to be reckoned with
Right: (Clockwise from back) Christopher Karloff (guitar), Chris Edwards (bass), Sergio Pizzorno (Guitar), Tom Meighan (vocals)
Had you placed your bets this time last year on who would be the hottest band in Britain, the odds on Kasabian would have been extremely generous.
They don’t fit into the metropolitan boho chic led by the likes of Razorlight, Libertines/ Babyshambles or New Glasgow’s Franz Ferdinand. Nor do they reach out to the big, soft heart of student bedsit-land like Keane and Snow Patrol.They have no natural allies, no scene to support them.They’re from Leicester, for crying out loud.
A year ago Kasabian had just finished a joint headline tour with Chikinki. Yet by the start of 2005, singer Tom Meighan, guitarists Sergio Pizzorno and Christopher Karloff and bassist Chris Edwards had defied all the odds to take their place as the Britrock Band Most Likely To Thrive in Oh-Five.
A string of hit singles, a debut album that stormed the Top 5 – sales are closing in on 300,000 – a ferocious work ethic and a run of powerful live shows saw them pull off music’s equivalent of the five card trick: they carried off the populist vote and the fashionable bloc without conceding ground to either.
‘We had to be voted in,’ proclaims singer Tom Meighan backstage at their sold-out gig at London’s Brixton Academy. ‘It’s like politics, you have to let the people speak. And we came from behind. Took everyone by surprise.’
COMING FROM BEHIND
Two days earlier at Nottingham’s Rock City the mood is no less upbeat. ‘Nice jacket, mate,’ cocky street urchin Tom chirps when he spies a tidy piece of clobber. He doesn’t scrub up too bad himself: equal parts Terence Stamp (swinging 60s dandy charm) and Liam Gallagher (exquisite feather-cut, failsafe exuberance), he’s sporting a knee-length donkey jacket adorned by a quartet of Beatles figurines he bought in Liverpool last week (‘Well I had to get all four, didn’t I?’).
The model-ishly rake-thin Sergio – everyone calls him Serge – meanwhile, looks every inch the modern-day heartbreaker: equal parts thuggish Faces wideboy and androgynous pretty-boy. No wonder Kate Moss allegedly fell under his spell at Glastonbury. Over a couple of cappucinos the two best friends are here to enthuse about the delights of a year spent meeting The Who’s Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend; Sgt Pepper sleeve-designer and Pop Art […]
Page Three:
‘I learnt very quickly that if you don’t say a lot, people assume you’re a lot more intelligent than you are. We got away with it’
Above: Serge struts his stuff during Kasabian’s triumphant performance at Nottingham RockCity, December 2005
Above: Just a year ago Kasabian headlined with Chikinki- now they’re on the verge of mega-stardom
[…] legend Sir Peter Blake; hip-hop ruffians Wu-Tang Clan, and erstwhile England bruiser Stuart ‘Pyscho’ Pearce. A year in which they went from playing an under-15s night in Tewkesbury to selling 20,000 tickets for their Christmas tour in nine days; a year in which they’ve become the UK’s real band of the people. Neither of them have really come to terms with the pace and scale of their ascent. ‘Lennon was right, man,’ Tom judges. ‘Nothing is real, nothing is real.’
‘NO ONE ELSE IS SAYING SHIT’
Although their early interviews can be combed for soundbites proving they were men on a mission even then (‘We’re a wake-up call to British music’), while no strangers to the wind-up (‘Most people who are creative are generally tossers’) or calculated wackiness (‘One of our craziest tunes was written at 10.30 in the morning drinking a cup of tea and eating a Kit Kat Chunky’), initially it seemed that they were hardly what the world was waiting for.
‘We were like training Jedis,’ remarksTom in an identikit style bar in the centre of Nottingham, just behind Rock City. ‘We were getting our apprenticeship. We started the learning curve, how to use the lightsaber, how to use your weapon properly.’
Kasabian, Tom in particular, often speak like this.Tom insists they are Peter Pan, while still addressing everyone as ‘mate’ or ‘man’. And straight-faced, they are happy to trade in psychedelic riddles and stoner non sequiturs. ‘Someone’s got to say something though, haven’t they?’ says Tom. ‘Cause no one else is saying shit.’ It all started when, at the height of Britpop, a 16-year-old pupil at Leicester’s Countesthorpe College looked to the North West for inspiration.
‘The best advice I ever received was from Noel Gallagher,’ Serge recalls. ‘When I was a kid and he spoke of having self-belief and not listening to anyone else, that touched me.They were my guidelines.’ The fact that he couldn’t play a guitar wasn’t going to dissuade Serge from following in Oasis’ footsteps. Schoolmate Chris Edwards was told to take up bass, while Serge learnt the rudiments of the six-string. After recruiting Serge’s best mate as singer and a drummer by the name of Ben Kealy, the fledgling band was born.
‘We just did it,’ says Serge. ‘I was so single-minded, I told everyone we would never have to work. But the singer, my best mate, had no belief. He would have been quite happy playing covers down the pub, he just didn’t share the vision.’
Enter Tom Meighan.
‘I don’t believe in luck,’ Tom says. ‘I believe in fate. This was meant to happen and that’s a wonderful, breathtaking thing. I knew Serge from the age of 11; we went to separate primary schools and we met on the football field.Then he was really small, which is funny when you see how big he is now, and he ripped me to pieces. By the mid-90s I knew he played the guitar; he used to walk around with his Oasis moptop and his Umbro top. He knew I loved to sing so one night he played me a tape recording of this song he’d written and that was that.’
Their first gig was at the Shed in Leicester in early 1997, followed by a support slot a few months later. ‘We were awful,’ laughs Tom now. ‘Terrible, out of time, crap.’ And then came thefirstturning point, the addition of the mysterious Christopher Karloff, the member of the band who onstage stands eerily still behind his guitar and refuses to speak to the press – an enigmatic, even sinister but undeniably cool asset to the band’s charismatic image.
Karloff was two years older than the rest of the band and so was something of a demi-god around their village of Blaby. ‘He had these huge sideys,’ says Tom. ‘He looked like a rude boy.’ He was also useful on the pitch: while Serge was on the books of Nottingham Forest as a youngster, Christopher was likewise affiliated to Midlands rivals Aston Villa (legend has it that underneath their training kit they wore Leicester City socks). When they discovered Karloff played the guitar they resolved to make him join.
‘Me and Tom went up to him in the pub and asked him to join,’ remembers Serge. Happily for the band, Karloff said ‘yes’. Following their disastrous early gigs they knew that they had to practice in order to achieve success. As de facto leader, Serge meticulously ensured that their four times weekly practice sessions were taken seriously.
‘I was strict, but we had fun,’ he says. ‘We had no real idea about what music we wanted to make at first – it was very basic Beatles-y, Who-type numbers. We weren’t trying to be cool; we just enjoyed jumping off each other’s amps and other twatty things. But for those few hours we were rock’n’roll stars.’
THE FAB FOUR
However, by 2000 the quintet was reduced to a quartet. Having disregarded their sacred rehearsals for months on end, Ben Kealy was forced to leave. Kasabian had their Brian Jones, their Pete Best.
‘It was hard.’ saysTom thoughtfully, ‘because he was our friend. But he was out boy-racing all the time; he was only interested in the size of his exhaust pipe or the sub in the boot. It’s cool now though; we’re still in contact with him and he’s so proud of us.There’s no anger.’
Kealy’s departure concentrated the remaining members’ minds. Since the […]
Page Four:
‘It’s like Masters Of The Universe, mate. We are Adam of Eternia, we’ve got the fucking sword and Greyskull’s Leicester’
Above: Chowing down and meeting fans Below: Beastie Boys were a big influence
Above: The band is named after Linda Kasabian, the getaway driver at the 1969 Manson Family murders
[…] band had started their tastes had grown and diversified.They were bored with the jingle-jangle of guitar music hip-hop, funk and krautrock were now all on the menu.
‘Blackalicious, Beastie Boys,Tangerine Dream, Can: we loved all that,’ says Serge. ‘Yet most of all I remember hearing DJ Shadow’s Endtroducing and being amazed by how clever it sounded. But in amongst all the strange loops, the strings and the beats I felt it was missing a song. I thought if we could mould the two together, find a balance between Revolver and Endtroducing, we would have something.’
And so the band bought a computer. Serge and Christopher spent hours in Serge’s bedroom trying to master it.
‘We were obsessed with all the synths and the sequencing,’ he remembers. ‘The Boards Of Canada album Music HasThe Right To Children became the benchmark. In many ways we stopped rehearsing and became producers.That’s why it makes me laugh when everyone compares us to the Happy Mondays. We were never influenced by them; I like them, but they never inspired me to be in a band.’
The inspiration came from all areas, the stuff of everyday Iife – football, booze, chasing girls. Fired by the zeal of discovering beats and samples, the boys were not only looking forwards and backwards but sideways: perceptions were being stretched.
‘I loved the idea of everyone coming together in a field and taking ecstasy,’ muses Serge.’ I thought it was romantic, dangerous. Of course, we were too young to take part, but it meant that we were opening our minds, embracing other stuff. It also meant that when everyone else was dead into Nirvana and Sonic Youth, we were somewhere else. Saying that, I can appreciate both those bands now.’
The elements of the established Kasabian sound – widescreen rock’n’roll, synthetic soul and blitzkrieg beats – came together on Processed Beats. By this stage the foursome had all moved into a farmhouse in Rutland – where they’re still based – to work on their demo. ‘We spent a year on the farm just jamming and getting the album together.’The demo, augmented by session drummer Ian Matthews, fell, conveniently, into the hands of some DJs in London which led to an audience with RCA.
‘We looked like a shower of shit and we had a MiniDisc for a drummer, but we played in front of the managing director,’ Serge says of their fateful 2002 showdown.’I think it was four tunes we performed – one was Processed Beats, there was an early version of LSF (Lost Souls Forever) and two others.Thankfully he saw the vision.’
Which was?
‘That a rock’n’roll band could have songs.’
So what did you say to him?
‘Nothing. I learnt very quickly that if you don’t say a lot, people assume you’re a lot more intelligent than you are. So we just stood there, as tall as we could. I had no idea about albums and points and all that, but we got away with it.’
THE CHILD,THE KING,THE WIZARD AND METHODMAN
Kasabian attribute their success to the chemistry of the band. Each member supplies a distinct flavour, a new angle. Serge believesTom delivers a childlike sense of naivety (‘In his eyes the world is a very simple place, he sees through the shit so well’), while Tom suggests that Serge contributes an air of refined elegance:’ He’s like an old painting, like Leonardo da Vinci, I can see Serge’s face in those paintings. He’s like a king from another time, but he’s here by mistake.’
Christopher, meanwhile, is recognised as the band’s soul and imagination.’He’s away on his own cloud,’ laughs Serge. ‘He’s the looniest,’ adds Tom, ‘but he’s a musical wizard.’ Finally, Chris Edwards contributes the metronomic groove that ties the band together. ‘He’s very methodical,’ Serge says. ‘He works out distances on his car speedometer.’
FAMILY TIES
And the name Kasabian? Half-inched from the Manson Family’s getaway driver, Linda, who received immunity from prosecution in return for testifying against other Family members in the 1970 murder trial; she now lives in Washington State. And their logo: freedom fighter or terrorist? ‘Based on the Ultras, the Italian football hooligans, ‘Serge says. ‘We used to watch the games and they’d have these 100-foot flags behind the nets. It was just that image of “This is our team, this is our band.” No-one should fuck with your band.’
Their early limited-edition 10-inch singles Processed Beats and Reason Is Treason came wrapped in these rebel flags. And their first single proper, Club Foot, was dedicated to Jan Palach, the Czech student who in 1969 publicly burnt himself to death in protest at the Soviet invasion of his country. Yet the band later admitted they had no idea who Palach was. So are Kasabian just playing at being rebellious?
‘I don’t know if it is rebellion,’ Serge concedes. ‘lt’s just good. I know that sounds daft, but all of our favourite bands have always made good music. It’s not style over substance, I don’t know, everything is too cool. We’ve been playing a song like LSF and it’s weird, it’s like a church or something. It’s almost like a healing.’
With its video shot in Budapest (Serge: ‘We’d never been abroad as a band, so to get on a plane was great.’), Club Foot’s brutal electroclash stoked the buzz growing around the band. A secret gig at the Cabinet War Rooms (‘right at the heart of the government,’ Tom had declared on the night, deep in Churchill’s bunker) was followed by opening Glastonbury’s Other Stage on Friday morning.
‘We walked onstage and there was fucking 20,000 people. It was like “Jesus Christ'” recalls Serge.
Tom: ‘lt was then that I realised we were a bit bigger than I thought we were. It was just one of those moments, probably like the feeling you get when you seeyourfirst kid being born.’
Page Five:
‘We’re the first band since Oasis to give people something to dream about’
Down on the farm: Kasabian moved to the country two years ago to ‘get some head-space’
Some people have characerised Kasabian as oiks or empty poseurs.Tom takes it all in his stride. ‘We’re always gonna be a loved or hated band. The press might want loads of art rock bands, hoping that bad boys in bands might go away.’
BAD-BOY BOOGIE
So are you bad boys then?
‘No, of course not. We’re genuine people, we’ve got hearts of gold. But at the same time we aren’t scared little poets, man. We haven’t been to no drama school, so we haven’t got poems to write about.’
That’s not your job though is it?
‘No,’ he laughs. ‘Our job is to keep the hooligans on their toes.’
‘We’re just ourselves,’ interjects Serge. ‘And if there’s any message it’d be that. Be yourself, don’t fucking aspire to be anyone else other than yourself. That’s all we’ve ever done.’
But don’t The Libertines or The Strokes or Franz Ferdinand stand for the same thing?
Serge: ‘Those bands are good because I can say, “Fuck, we’ve got to do something about that. I’d start a band to fight against that.” We connect with the man on the street. We’re the first band since Oasis to give people something to dream about.’
‘There’s no such thing as cool, man,’ states Tom. ‘AII those cool kids, they’re just repressed.They go to all these limits to be cool, whereas we just do it. It’s instinctive. Being in a band, being a human being, going out to the pub and buying a drink, buying clothes, meeting people, doing social things, that’s rock’n’roll. It’s being yourself.That’s real life. All those people that have to go the extra length always fail.’
‘Fuck ’em,’ sneers Serge. ‘I’ve always said our job was to keep the trendies perplexed.’
If Kasabian’s rhetoric has struck a chord, it’s probably because they make being a rock star look such a gas. They spent the summer festival circuit hob-nobbing with the likes of the Wu-Tang Clan (Serge: ‘We were off our faces’), supported The Who at the band’s behest (Tom: ‘Roger Daltrey was wonderful. Pete was playing the rock’n’roll star with his shades on – he’s actually pretty short’) and had their photos taken by kindred hedonist David Bailey (Tom: ‘He was like Father Christmas’) for Vogue.Their publicist, meanwhile, enthuses about the support of The Streets, Mani, Avid Merrion, Stuart ‘Pyscho’ Pearce, Primal Scream,The Prodigy and The Clash’s Mick Jones. Oh, and Sir Peter Blake.
Serge:’That was weird, mate.’
Tom ‘That was really very weird.’
Serge: ‘We were fucking leathered.’
Tom ‘Yeah, very leathered, mate.’
Serge: ‘l tell you what else, though, the guy from Star Trek was there. What was his name? Picard?The guy that did X-Men.’
Patrick Stewart?
Serge:’Yeah, that’s right. Patrick Stewart. That was fucked up.’
Where was that?
Tom ‘The Grouch Club or summat.’
Serge: ‘The Grouch! Hahaha!’
Tom ‘The Groucho Club. I’m never going there again, it’s fucking terrible, don’t even know why we ended up in there.’
Serge: ‘lt was after a gig.’
Tom ‘lt was after The 100 Club.’
Serge: ‘That was a crazy night.’
So are you the best band in Britain?
Straight-faced, Tom instantly takes the bait: ‘Yeah.’ Serge cracks up at his comrade’s chutzpah.
Tom ‘Yeah… Yeah… Right now, it’s like Masters Of The Universe, mate. We are Adam of Eternia, we’ve got the fucking sword and we’re holding it aloft. Greyskull’s Leicester and we’re representing Britain.’
Serge (in hysterics): ‘Tom, that’s the best thing you’ve said all year.’
Tom ‘Safe.’
LEICESTER WHO’S WHO
Daniel Lambert
Britain’s chubbiest-ever lardarse at 52 stone. When Dan died, it took 20 men to lower a gigantic, wheeled coffin into his grave.
Thomas Cook
Yup, we’ve got Leicester to thank for the invention of the package tour.
The Elephant Man
Pre-freakshow (and David Lynch’s cult movie), the tragically disfigured John Merrick worked as a door-to-door sales man.
Joe Orton
Playright Joe’s anarchic farces dragged buggery and dildos into mainstream 60s theatre before he was hammered to death by his jealous boyfriend.
David and Dickie Attenborough
Without Leicester there’d have been no Life On Earth. No Ghandi, either.
Gary Lineker
48 goals in 80 matches for England – now the face of Match Of The Day and Leicester’s most famous product, Walkers Crisps.
The Dallas Boys
Leicester invented the boy band! The original smoochy five-piece became 50s sex gods with weekly TV appearances on Oh Boy!
Engelbert Humperdinck
Anglo-Indian cabaret crooner – real name Arnold Dorsey – who twice topped the charts in swingin’ 1967. Still boasts nine million fan-club members worldwide!
Legay
The Leicester Mercury described these flower-power hopefuls as ‘Tamla fans in make-up with songs like Steam-Driven Banana.’ Move over, Frisco…
Family
One ofthe greatest English psych/prog bands, fronted by beardy warbler Roger Chapman. Check out Music In A Doll’s House.
Blind Faith
Forget Ginger Baker, Stevie Winwood and Eric ‘God’ Clapton. The true superstar in this supergroup was Leicester bassist Ric Grech.
Queen
Likewise, Freddie Mercury and Bryan May were mere frontmen for Leicester bassist John Deacon’s class act.
Showaddywaddy
It’s Leicester’s No 1 urban myth: Romeo Challenger out of the 70s rockin’ glamsters is local footballer Dion Dublin’s dad!
Deep Freeze Mice
Minstrel Radio Yoghurt started a whole new strain of weirdo punk. Mick ‘Mr Tourettes’ Bunnage is now a cult cartoonist, behind www.shitflap.co.uk.
Yeah Yeah Noh
John Peel’s favourite band of 1984 stole sounds, words and whole tunes in the name of original DIY psychedelia. Hear the cheeky buggers’ Leicester Square best-of.
Diesel Park West
Wrong time, wrong place for these classy West Coast rockers. Allegedly, Buffalo Springfield nicked the act wholesale.
Gaye Bykers On Acid
Leicester’s cross-dressing vanguard of grebo, along with Crazyhead and inspirationally titled splinter band Lesbian Dopeheads On Mopeds.
Mark Morrison
After smooove dancefloor smash Return Of The Mack, MM went on tour and sent a lookalike to fulfil a Community Service Order. Jail soon cooled his bling.
Prolapse
Determinedly miserable beat combo made Nick Cave sound like Kylie. Hear Pointless Walks To Dismal Places, and die.
Cornershop
DIY Anglo-Indian dance grooves lit up the charts with Brimful Of Asha. ‘Cos ‘everybody needs a bosom fora pillow’, right? (DH)