It might be the mother of all music clichés, but a second album really can be difficult. Then again, if you recorded your first album in a bedroom, nothing ever came easy.
"There were day-to-day problems,” smiles Vinnie Neff, reflecting on Django Django’s self-titled debut. “Dave’s girlfriend would get home from work and we couldn’t work beyond that time. There were neighbours banging on the wall while I was doing vocal takes – you could actually hear it a little on the tracks!”
Things have changed a lot in the four years since that album was recorded. The Scottish/Northern Irish combo, old colleagues from Edinburgh College of Art, were
under the radar at that point, but Django Django gained success beyond their wildest dreams. The critical acclaim catapulted the band into the limelight, and the public reaction saw the record certified platinum. When it came to recording a follow- up, though, Vinnie says they found themselves reverting to type.
“We took it back to what we were used to,” the Derry-born frontman reports. “We were in Jamiroquai’s keybordist’s studio – channeling Jay Kay’s funk – in a big live room. We all freaked out a little, it was a bit too big. We emigrated to a little closet room in the back, so it was almost like the bedroom all over again. We didn’t even think about it. When we got back to London, Dave (Maclean, the band’s drummer and producer) would cut things up at home and get his head into it. That’s probably where the sound began to gravitate closer to that first record. It’s sort of a hybrid of the big studio and the small little room.”
The resulting LP, Born Under Saturn, reflects that. While retaining the distinctive psychedelic art-rock sound of the revelatory debut, it also has an expanse that the first did not. Unafraid to explore new avenues, and bringing a more dance-y feel to proceedings, it sounds like a band cutting loose – Django Django Unchained, if you will.
“I think that’s from playing live shows,” the frontman says. “When we were playing live, we changed things from the first album. ‘Love’s Dart’ became an acid track, for instance, because the middle of the set needed something like that. There’s now two ends of the spectrum – dance tracks and the guitar tracks – and we don’t want to have to choose one.”
With songwriting duties now a collective effort – as opposed to Vinnie and Dave’s two-man job on the first long-player – more variety was inevitable. That, though, is where the guiding hand of Maclean came into its own.
“Myself, Jim and Tommy would be sitting around a piano, Christmas carol style,” Vinnie laughs. “Dave would arrive like the head teacher at the end of the day, to see what we came up with – and dole out a hundred lines if needed!”
In reality, the threat of headmasterly criticism was unnecessary. The four-piece are pretty honest when it comes to keeping each other in check.
“You can’t have an ego in our band – if you do something a bit crap, you’ll hear about it pretty soon. We set a pretty high bar for ourselves, which means it’s always honest. My sisters back in Derry, too, are a sort of sounding board. They give really detailed feedback, but only on things they like. Either way, we’ll know!”
Not that the approval of others is a major priority.
“When we recorded the first album and didn’t think we were getting signed, we were fully content with self-releasing. We just want to be happy listening to it ourselves. I think it’s a result of coming from art college – being confident in doing things for yourself rather than waiting around for someone to do it for you.”