THE NAME of the band has been omitted to protect the guilty, but I'll never forget as a cub reporter being Aer Lingus-ed over to London to interview some hip-and-happening baggy-types.
The cost of the jaunt to the record buying public was #220 for a business class flight, #180 for a night in the Hotel De La Posh, Knightsbridge and a very modest #50 for the partial liberation of one of their mini-bars.
Which may have been justified if the chinwag had actually taken place, but, as it happened, the Mancunian combo's lead singer and bassist arrived for our rendezvous so pissed they couldn't remember what planetary system they were in, let alone form coherent sentences.
Even by today's standards #450 is a fuck load of money but in 1990 when you could buy a round of drinks, a packet of Woodbines and still have change of a fiver for a Mock Turtles 12", it was the equivalent of your average third world debt.
"We've recorded whole albums for less than that," rues Keith Cullen, who at the same time as my Knightsbridge odyssey was converting his Camberwell flat into Setanta Records' international headquarters. Leaving Dublin in 1985 as a just-out-of-school civilian, Cullen quickly became immersed in the capital's thriving indie scene and, fuelled by a healthy desire to outdo the majors, decided to set himself up as a bargain basement Richard Branson.
"You'd hear these next-big-thing acts on the radio who were absolutely terrible," he recalls, "and then get a demo from an unknown band that'd blow you away. I thought, 'right, if no one else is interested, I'll sign them to my own record label.' I didn't have any experience and just picked it up as I went along with Beethoven, our first band, and then Into Paradise who we eventually got signed to Ensign.
"We made a lot of wrong decisions in those days," he continues, "but I don't regret them because they were part of the learning process. Mistakes are okay as long as you take from them and they're not repeated."
Keith's introduction to the harsher realities of the music business came when having nearly bankrupted himself to finance the first Power Of Dreams EP, they buggered off with nary a 'cheerio mate' to Polydor.
"That was totally frustrating," he admits. "They tried to keep me in the dark about it but I learned several weeks beforehand from one of the A&R guys at Polydor that that was where they were heading, and was able to tell the band's manager I didn't want to work with them anyway. I still blank the guy whenever I see him. Looking back now, I suppose I was being naive, but I really did believe in this thing of someone's word being their bond. You have to protect what you're trying to build up, though, so my days of sealing a deal with a handshake are long gone."
Squabbling with bands is to be expected, but did Setanta encounter any initial anti-Irish prejudice?
"Yeah . . ." he pauses before adding caustically, "from Ireland. Not being bitchy but Hot Press has never championed the label. I would say that the Irish people have a great ability not to recognise talent when it's on their own doorstep. It's like The Cranberries and Siniad - you've got to be big elsewhere before people go, 'ah sure, aren't they great.'
"If a band become big in the UK, they automatically become big in Ireland. This might sound dumb but, to me, the most sussed music fans in Ireland are the ones who buy Mary Black and Christie Hennessy records. They're the only kind of artist that can establish themselves at home independent of anywhere else."
Their A&R policy may have significantly changed in recent years but when Setanta started out, their standard modus operandi was to sign relatively unknown bands like The Frank & Walters and They Do It With Mirrors and bring them over to London where, in theory, they'd dazzle the residents of King's Reach Tower into giving them acres of column inchage. A plan of Baldrick-like cunning, certainly, but one that more often than not required bands to live in dole-induced squalor.
Indeed, my own abiding memory of those early days was arriving round the Mirrors' flat in Wood Green to find the gaff minus its front door and the lads inside eating a tasty mixed grill of chips and potato croquettes.
"We simply didn't have the money to pay them a wage," Cullen explains. "The effect that has is it either hardens them and makes them better or else it scares the shit out of them and they run off home. This may sound harsh but I honestly think that for a band to be 100% committed - and by extension make great music - they need to feel vulnerable and isolated. In that respect, I totally subscribe to the idea of having to suffer for your art."
Expect the Musicians' Union to start picketing Setanta's offices any day now. Taking what he's just said a step further, does Keith feel that in some ways signing to a major is actually detrimental to a band's development?
"Definitely. You get the deal and because of the recognition that entails, you don't feel the need to prove yourself. Even if we had the money, I'd never pay an artist a million-pound advance because I know - even at a subconscious level - it'd stop them working as hard."
If you were to use a footballing analogy, you'd have to say that Setanta are the Wimbledon of record companies - perennial underdogs who've clawed their way into the top flight using a mixture of young talent and revitalised old pros who others have deemed to be past their sell-by date.
"One of my real frustrations is that we've always been strapped for money," Cullen says, switching into Joe Kinnear mode. "Into Paradise, The Frank & Walters, A House . . . we had to sign them to major labels and even though I continued to be involved, they all fucked it up. If we'd had the resources ourselves, we could have done it better.
"I think it's really important to be as close as possible to the bands you're working with," he expounds. "The sheer nature of courting a band and giving them a contract diminishes the need for that sort of relationship. Which is undoubtedly the music industry's biggest flaw."
Cullen is particularly prickly on the subject of Go! Discs, the label who helped The Frank & Walters - and Setanta - to their first mainstream top 10 hit and then seemed to lose interest when the follow-up made an immediate beeline for the bargain-bins.
"They were never really a Go! Discs band because we were so hands-on," he reflects. "We went through a series of A&R people - none of whom we particularly clicked with - and when their difficulties started last year with Polygram and they couldn't give us a definite release date, we made it clear we wanted the album back. It's now going to come out in May with another single, 'How I Can Exist', this month."
Another band who Setanta farmed out to a major - and took back when things went less than swimmingly - were A House.
"Keith approached me shortly after we'd recorded our second album for Warners and said, 'if the bastards ever drop you, give me a bell'," recalls manager John Carroll. "What impressed us about him was his confidence and pig-headed determination to succeed - especially when other people were writing him and his bands off. Setanta had fuck all money but, despite that, the first Into Paradise and Power Of Dreams records had both got 'Singles Of The Week' so we thought, if nothing else, we'd get some good press out of it. It sort of developed from there. We went in and did an EP which, in turn, led to an album and EMI becoming involved."
The hook that snared our corporate chums was 'Endless Art', A House's chugalong paean to the dead famous which topped the indie chart and then re-released by the major, stalled just one place short of the grown-ups' top 40.
"There was a point with 'Endless Art' where if Keith had been in the position he is now, we probably would have broken A House properly," Carroll ventures. "We don't look back, though, and say 'if only'. We made a record we were proud of, Keith put it out when nobody else was interested, and it fared sufficiently well for us to go on and do I Am The Greatest which a lot of people regard as the band's best album. In other words, Setanta was the right label at slightly the wrong time."
Were there tears and temper tantrums when A House announced that they were hanging up their plectrums?
"No," he laughs. "From day one, we knew it was going to take a body of work for us to either make a breakthrough or realise that it just wasn't going to happen. Before we went to make No More Apologies, we knew that this was probably going to be the last record. Keith was aware of that, too, so it wasn't a case of him stumping up loads of money and us then dropping him in it.
"A lot of groups fall by the wayside because they lack someone's belief in them. Most people would have walked away from The Divine Comedy when they ceased to exist as a band but Keith had faith in Neil's songwriting capabilities and he's been proved right."
Cullen's A&R skills haven't always been that finely honed, though - Setanta's cash cow very nearly ending up in the abattoir when he failed to spot the unashamed pop brilliance of 'A Girl Like You'.
"I didn't get it," he admits. "It's a great song but not my kind of song - particularly the lyrics. Having said that, Edwyn's success enabled us to become the label that we are today. Without that injection of cash, we couldn't have given Neil Hannon the sort of money he needed to make a record like Casanova."
Did he get a bit nervous when the bill came in from Abbey Road?
"I'm still nervous," he admits. "We're not on safe ground financially which, in a way, is good because it keeps you hungry. Island Records was the same in the '70s and look where they are now. The important thing is that we're building up a back catalogue. In five years time, if we start signing a shitload of crap bands, it's the likes of Casanova that's going to keep us afloat."
Of course, the best way to keep the bank manager sweet is to jump into bed with a major. Your surrender doesn't have to be unconditional - Creation taking #3 million off Sony on the strict understanding that they keep the fuck away from their A&R department.
"Actually," Cullen reveals, "we are talking to a major at the moment. We're going to do a deal which will involve financial input but no selling of equity in the company. I don't think I'll ever hand over control of Setanta to somebody else, but I can't say I won't. It's like The Wedding Present insisting that they'd always record in eight-track studios. Rules are made to be broken - or at least made to be broken by me!"
Does this enfant terrible of the music business ever worry that he might wake up one day and find he's turned into the sort of pony-tailed corporate bigwig that he so obviously despises?
"You mean get fat and lazy? Yeah, that'll happen and I'll be like the rest of them. I'm sure there are people starting up record labels now who'd regard Setanta as having 'sold-out' and, while I don't agree with them, I think it's good that they're cynical and not in awe of what's gone before."
If charting all over Europe, opening an American office and inking a Japanese licensing deal with Sony Tristar means 'selling-out' then, yup, Keith Cullen & Co are the rightful enemies of the D-I-Y brigade. An alternate and less stamp collector-ish view is that along with Creation, Nude and whatever label Geoff Travis happens to be running this week, Setanta are a perfect example of how music fans with a bit of business savvy can change the industry from within.
"I got a call from Lauren, who works with Keith, saying 'are you interested in this job? It's going to pay a bit less but you get to work with these bands and this little mad balding Irishman'," laughs Chris Mezler who ended his eight-year tenure at Mute to become Setanta's first International Manager. "The answer was an automatic 'yes' because, whatever about the money, I've never known a more positive or enthusiastic working environment. Beforehand, it was a bit of a jumble sale with different people doing different things and no co-ordination, but now with #70,000 budgets and 30-date tours, it's become more professional.
"At the moment we're licensing to Virgin for the Benelux and France which is actually Setanta's single biggest market. Virgin even got Neil (Hannon) to record a duet version of 'Becoming More Like Alfie' with a French comedienne called Valerie La Mercier. As it turned out, everyone preferred the original, so now we're doing it our own way.
"Actually," Mezler continues, "Virgin messed us around in Germany. They wouldn't release the first Divine Comedy album and kicked up an almighty fuss when we said we wanted him to do a full tour rather than the one gig they had in mind. The Sony Tristar tie-in is really exciting - they're reckoning on shifting 100,000 copies of Casanova over the next six months which is a lot of yen. Four or five years ago we'd have had a real problem with The Franks, because the only market we were able to access was the UK, but now we can afford to take 'em over to Japan and the US and other places where music matters more the image."
Regrets: Keith Cullen's had a few which he's quite prepared to mention.
"I wish I'd been in a position, what, 10 years ago to get involved with Siniad O'Connor or, more recently, PJ Harvey. There's a purity there - like there was with Dexy's and The Clash. Speaking personally as opposed to their manager, I'd love My Bloody Valentine to be on Setanta rather than Island.
"I prefer to be positive, though, and think of who we do have. We've mainly talked about Neil and Edwyn who are our best-sellers but I'm also incredibly excited about the Franks and The Harvest Ministers. There's a new Brian album coming out which is absolutely superb and we've just signed the House Of Love bloke, Guy Chadwick."
Never mind that. Has Hot Press made it onto the Setanta Christmas card list yet?
"It's under review!" n

Divine Revelations
STUART CLARK: I understand that when you first arrived in London, you weren t overly impressed with the Setanta set-up.
NEIL HANNON: It was atrocious. When Keith phoned me up saying, I want to sign you , I was so gobsmacked that I didn t ask any questions. We weren t really expecting deep-pile carpets and smoked-glass tables but we were ushered into this grotty little council flat in Peckham which at the time was the Setanta HQ. We were I have to admit a trifle disappointed. The funny thing is that we never actually sent them a demo. Someone at Rough Trade used to give Keith all their reject Irish tapes, so that s probably how he stumbled across us.
Did you also get to sample the delights of the Setanta house of horror in Wood Green?
Sean O Neill s old house? We lived there for about three months. That was virtually the place that did us in, as far as the early band went. I seem to remember there was a rather exotic collection of mould in the fridge and the roof fell in shortly after that. Most labels even the tiny ones give you some sort of money to live on but we were totally dependent on the dole and rent allowance which, together, came to something like #90. A fortnight. It was only when we released Liberation that I got a small advance of #3,000 which lasted me a year-and-a-half. I always had the subtle ploy of being on the dole for three months, coming off it for no particular reason and scrounging off me dad, and then going back on it when the money ran out. For some reason, that seemed to keep the DHSS off my tail.
There must have been something about Keith and the Setanta operation which made you willing to endure all that.
I don t know what it was because he was intolerable. At the outset, certainly, every time he rang up to see what was going on he d give you an earbashing whether it was deserved or not. He was out to motivate the bands themselves to get things done, just like when he d come to London first, but he didn t realise that not everyone s as proficient at scratching a living as he is. You know, you had all these nice, vaguely middle-class kids coming over to the pits of the world, and having to ask Keith when to breathe in and when to breathe out.
If that sounds unduly harsh, it s meant to . . . no, Keith may be the ultimate blagger and the ultimate spendthrift, but he believes 110% in what he s doing and has put every single penny he s made back into the company. I mean, if he d turned up at the door of our flat in Tottenham driving a BMW rather than his bike, we d have slung our hooks.
Did you expect Setanta to be as supportive as they were when the rest of the mk. one Divine Comedy buggered off home to Enniskillen?
Keith was very wise and very far-sighted it seemed not to just tell me to piss off when the band split up. I said, I m going back to Ireland , and his attitude was, alright then but send me any tapes once you ve done them. So, I sat there writing and writing and writing until the whole thing, Liberation, was finished. Then, and only then, did I send him a tape with a note attached that read, you may not like it but I think it s the second Sgt. Pepper s. What the fuck have you sent me? were his first words when he phoned, but after a couple more plays, he recognised it as the work of genius that it undoubtedly is.
Is it fair to say that without Edwyn Collins, there might never have been a Casanova or at least in the form we know it?
Being a selfish brat, I have to confess I initially had mixed feelings about A Girl Like You taking off so dramatically. On one hand, yeah, there was more money coming in but on the other, it meant everything else having to take a back seat. Every time I went down the office to see how the finance for Casanova was coming together it was, oh, go away. Edwyn s A-listed, you know. So, I just sauntered off with my tail between my legs and had a pot noodle or something.
Actually, I think this is an opportune moment to mention Keith Cullen s lack of A&R prowess. He didn t spot A Girl Like You . He thought it was crap, he didn t want it on the album. I said, that s a good song , but it wasn t until he heard the same thing from ten other people that he gave it the okay. And, frankly, when he signed The Divine Comedy we weren t what we are today. He seemed to think there was a gap in the market for a third-rate Blur but our sales figures said differently.
Was there a moment when you said, Keith, I have a vision. Picture, if you will, me, Abbey Road and a 30-piece orchestra. ?
No, I coated the pill a little better than that. They never really expected to spend that much money but, at the same time, the attitude was go and get it right , so we went on and on and on and on until we d suddenly been in there four months. Keith had a bit of a freak attack and then said, if we re going to go bankrupt, we might as well do it in style. Up till then, most Setanta albums had cost #10,000 maximum. Casanova added up to #70,000.
How does the new loadsamoney Setanta compare to the label of old?
The best thing about it these days is that it retains its individuality and independence whilst operating on a far more professional level than before. God, it used to be a complete nightmare. For me, personally, it was annoying things like sleeves not being printed right and records being cut in the wrong order. And then there was the tour organisation or lack of it. You d get the itinerary and find you were in Newcastle one day, Portsmouth the next and then back up to Glasgow.
Having said that, nobody in the office is in any way corporate. They may have had a million-seller but they still very much regard themselves as underdogs. All sorts of people have offered to buy Keith out but what usually happens is that he gets half-way and decides, err, I don t like the sound of that. I d rather be penniless. Bad business or not, it s an attitude I admire.

The Concise Collins
STUART CLARK: Is it fair to say that your commercial renaissance wasn t entirely expected?
EDWYN COLLINS: My stock with the music press was so low that when Gorgeous George came out, they either slated the album or ignored it. Then A Girl Like You took off, the likes of the NME and Melody Maker furiously back-pedalled and Setanta were presented with their first genuine international hit. To me, it seemed like this whole record became an entity unto itself. We had nothing to do with it, really, apart from furiously trying to keep up and licence it throughout the world. It was mainly Kate, my manager, who took care of that side of things which I know pissed Keith off because he felt he was being crowded out. To give you an example of why we had to do that, the week A Girl Like You came out in the UK, the whole of Setanta were in France. Eventually he came round to it, but for a while, I honestly think that Keith had this inverted snob thing of not wanting a major hit.
Were you a bit miffed that you got clobbered for using that Motown sample on A Girl Like You ?
If we d realised it was going to sell a million and be played on every radio station in the world, we d have made damn sure to have had it cleared, but as all myself and Keith were expecting to sell was 30,000 or 40,000 copies, we didn t bother. The out-of-court settlement stung a bit but when you re guilty like that, you re better coughing up gracefully.
As an artist, what are the things you like most about being associated with Setanta?
I think Keith s entirely honourable and deserving of praise for the way in which he s promoted contemporary Irish music. I very much doubt, for instance, that a major would ve given Neil Hannon the time and encouragement he s needed to develop into a major creative force. And as for myself, there wasn t exactly a queue of A&R men beating a path to my door before I linked up with Setanta.
Having been allied to Creation for a couple of years, how would you rate Keith Cullen alongside Alan McGee?
He doesn t have the same ruthless ambition as Alan whose always had it in the back of his mind to make Creation a global concern. Keith is more rooted in the alternative indie ethic, though that ll probably change now that he s got a couple of Top 20 acts on the roster. I could ve been snobby and said, I m not recording for a label that s run out of a squat in Camberwell , but that s exactly how Stiff and Rough Trade and, sure, Creation started. There was also the attraction of them letting me producing some of their artists which is always an area I ve wanted to get into.
Would you ever consider jumping the Setanta ship and signing to a major?
A couple of years ago I d have said maybe but now that they ve tightened the operation up, there s really no need.