Blowing back to front

Standing boxer-small with an unlit spliff hanging from his mouth, and resplendent in a white cotton robe provided by central London’s tasteful but low-key Maddox Hotel, the mercurial musical maverick known as Tricky (or “Mr. Thaws”, as they refer to him at reception) runs a hand over his mohawk and pulls a thoroughly disgusted face at your teasing hotpress correspondent.

“David Beckham?” he sneers, sarcastically. “Fuck off! I ‘ad this a long time before that fucking idiot ever did!”

It’s true, he did. But then, Tricky has always been ahead of his time – and not just in the hairstyle department. The 37-year-old Bristolian first caught the public’s attention as a guest vocalist on Massive Attack’s classic early ’90s debut Blue Lines, and their equally acclaimed follow-up Protection. Swiftly signed solo to Island, his ground-breaking 1995 debut Maxinquaye – a darkly obsessive and unsettling fusion of soulfully skewed beats, dirty guitars, sinister soundscapes and paranoiac rap – completely revolutionised modern music and single-handedly defined a whole new genre. Here was music that would “fuck you in the ass/ just for a laugh.” Here was Trip-Hop.

Unfortunately, ever since he invented it, Tricky’s been more tripping than hopping – and his sonic spiral’s been swirling downwards since ‘95. He’s come a long way from Maxinquaye but, awkward bugger that he is, he’s taken a rather difficult route. Nearly God followed in 1996, featuring collaborations with such musical luminaries as Damon Albarn, Björk and Neneh Cherry. Album three came later the same year, Pre-Millennium Tension, recorded in Jamaica. Both records took the hints of paranoid schizophrenia strewn throughout his debut a stage further, and by the time Angels With Dirty Faces was released in 1998, the cloying claustrophobia and dark paranoia of his sound was too suffocating for all but the most devoted of fans to bear.

By then based full-time in New York, Tricky began to lose touch not only with a mainstream audience, but also, it seemed, with himself. Live, he had taken to performing with the lights off and his head bowed down, his vocals throaty and incoherent. Rumours of violent mood-swings, erratic behaviour in public and enforced hospitalisations rebounded throughout the industry. Wherever Tricky walked, it was whispered, Hell was just around the corner. . .

Deeply unhappy with fame and the music industry, 1999’s Juxtapose (his last album for Island) was his big fuck-you record – as innovative as always but still completely inaccessible, too brilliantly black to let in any light. “It’s astonishing how dark your life can get without you even noticing,” he has said, looking back. “It slips further and further away. You think it’s just stress so you push on. And that gets you into even worse situations and you slide further. I needed help.”

Help arrived in the form of a doctor who recognised that the dark star’s problems were caused by a rare diet related hormonal imbalance, and prescribed certain foods rather than psychiatrists or Prozac. Further assistance came in the form of former Island boss Chris Blackwell, who began to manage his affairs and signed him to Epitaph-subsidiary Anti Inc. in 2000.

His new album Blowback then, showcases a sparkling return to form – both musically and mentally – and is a serious contender for heavyweight mainstream success (if infectious debut single ‘Evolution Revolution Love’ isn’t a hit by the time you read this, I’ll start taking out boybands myself). Featuring collaborations with everyone from Live’s Ed Kowalczyk and Alanis Morissette to Ambersunshower and the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the dark paranoia that so defined his earlier sound hasn’t been completely eradicated – but at least the beats are up, rather than down.

This morning, however, on this bright London polling day, the rejuvenated rapper is somewhat stoned and as Tricky as you’d expect. By the time the tape runs out, he’s happily playing me his youngest brother Marlon’s demos, quizzing me about Northern Ireland and chatting about his favourite clubs in Japan, but, initially at least, he’s more than a little reluctant to discuss his darker days…

OLAF TYARANSEN: I see that you’re being managed by Chris Blackwell nowadays. . .

TRICKY: Yeah, I’ve got a new manager – and a new lawyer as well, which is really important. I think some people don’t realise how important they are. Your lawyer and your manager go hand in hand, you know. I’m on a new label as well. So I’ve just got everybody new around me.

You’ve been based in New Jersey for the last five years. Do you find the music industry more artist-friendly in the States?

In New York you see it as a business a lot more, do you know what I mean? My manager was American and it was just like you’re chasing money over there all the time. It was like, ‘I want, I want, I want’ (clicks fingers together). It’s a fast, quick place and everybody’s chasing money, everybody’s after that money, and you kind of get involved in all of that – chasing money every day. And with Blackwell, that’s the last thing that comes into your head really.

He hardly needs the money!!

Nah! (laughs).

Do you come back to England often?

Yeah, I come over here all the time. A lot.

Are you going to vote in today’s general election?

Nah (shakes head, smiling). Politics kind of don’t really interest me at all. Margaret Thatcher fucked it up so much when she was in that I don’t think anything could repair that damage. To be honest with you, I think she’s made a big mess in the – what was it, four or five years that she was in? – and I don’t think that can be made any better now.

You’ve collaborated with a fairly wide range of singers and musicians on Blowback – everyone from Cyndi Lauper and Alanis Morissette to Live and the Chili Peppers. How do you choose the people you work with?

Well, all the people I’ve worked with are people who’ve asked to work with me over the years. Sometimes I haven’t had time to do it or I’d tell them to call me later, sort of thing. So it’s like everyone’s always calling me. I don’t like getting in touch with people ‘cos then you’ve got to talk to their managers, their managers gotta talk to your managers, and it can take months. And then people wanna meet you – musicians wanna meet you and talk to you before they work with you. I’m no good at that stuff. I don’t wanna talk to someone, I just wanna go into studio.

Well, surely they just want to see if there’s a good vibe between you?

You’ll find that out in the studio and I think that’s the best place to find that out. Meeting you backstage somewhere is no good. You don’t have to get on with someone to make music with them. You just gotta go in the studio and just do it. It’s no big deal. You don’t have to talk. ‘Cos I’m not very sociable in the studio anyway. So you meeting me to see if you like me or not is not really gonna make any difference ‘cos I’m not really gonna have any vibe with you in the studio ‘cos I’ll be doing my own thing. What I usually do is I do a track and I’ll leave a space for you, so it ain’t like you’re working with me in the studio from the beginning to the end.

I see that Flea played on one track?

Flea played on quite a few things but I didn’t use any of it. I think he’s just on one track on the album. I’m not gonna use him just ‘cos he’s Flea.

How did the Cyndi Lauper collaboration come about?

She contacted me a few years ago to do some production and I never ended up doing it ‘cos at the time I was too busy. And I’ve always kept her in mind since then. And then I bumped into her somewhere and she gave me her number and I kept in contact with her. That’s it, really.

Who’s been the best to work with?

The easiest collaboration was with Bush, ‘cos I made them stay in England and send the reels out and then I didn’t use any of their stuff at all. I like working like that! (Chuckles throatily).

How are Bush doing these days?

I dunno. Gavin’s an egomaniac so I think that holds them back a little bit. ‘Cos the band I think are brilliant. I love the music, I love the guitarists, the drummer. But I think Gavin’s vision is a bit, em… squibbled. It’s kind of wannabe Kurt Cobain, wannabe famous rock star, you know.

Prior to this album, your sound seemed to be pretty much on a downward spiral into some very dark places. You’ve obviously come through, but what was the lowest point of the last few years?

I don’t really wanna talk about that, to be honest. ‘Cos I… (pauses) I just don’t wanna talk about it.

Well, it was just that I heard that your problems were all diet-related rather than anything else?

Yeah, something like that. I don’t wanna talk about it, man (shakes head emphatically and has brief distracting conversation with brother Marlon, who’s also in the room).

I see you recorded the new album at home.

Yeah – I just done it all in my house over a couple of weeks in the summer, three years ago. And that’s what I used to get my new deal – just demos. So I played four of the demos and everybody seemed to like the stuff I’d done in my house, so I just said, ‘alright, this is the album’. So I’m ready to do a new album now. ‘Cos to me, this is all very old. But I like to do stuff in my house instead of commercial studios anyway, ‘cos with commercial studios the only reason you’re in there is to make a song. At home I can make a piece of music and then if I wanna stop I can go and watch TV or cook or whatever. In a studio you can’t really do that. You have to go out into the city and just walk around and shit. At home, I’ve got everything I need there.

Do you have much separation between your working and normal life?

Nah, ‘cos the studio isn’t even built as a studio. It’s right next to my living room. It’s almost like furniture, you know. It’s not off in some side room with soundproofing – none of that stuff. I’m living on a couple of acres in the middle of nowhere, so there ain’t no neighbours. I mean, if you’re in my house and I’m recording then you’re gonna know I’m recording. There ain’t no separation in that sense.

You must have quite a lot of unreleased material, if this album was done three years ago.

I’ve got loads of stuff, even back since Maxinquaye, loads of shit. I’ve got three or four tracks with Björk, five tracks with Neneh Cherry. Loads of stuff. Like, I could put another two albums together easily, just with the material I’ve got, real easy. But they’d be more like Nearly God in the sense of having different vocalists on each one. Whenever I work with different vocalists, I’ll often do more than one track. Even Alanis Morissette – I did two or three songs with her.

How was Morissette to work with?

Really easy. She’s about one of the easiest people I’ve ever worked with, to be honest. She just come into the studio, listened to the track once and then started writing. And then about 30 or 40 minutes later, she was on the mic. And she did the vocal real, real quick. She’s very down to earth, considering who she is. I look on her as a huge star, ‘cos 26 million albums is a lot of fucking albums. But she was the easiest person to work with, so cool.

Are you intimidated by big stars?

Nah (laughs). None of these people impress me. I grew up around gangsters and shit, so there’s no way somebody who’s a celebrity is gonna impress me. ‘Cos it’s hardly a dangerous life. It’s like being a spoilt brat really, being an artist or a musician. And I know people who’ve been through some serious hardships – like my uncle is sixty years of age now and he’s been in prison for thirty years of his life. So someone being famous is not gonna impress me at all.

Do you enjoy the trappings of your own fame?

I don’t really get into it. For instance, I stay in hotels like here (gestures around the decidedly mid-price room), rather than in hotels where there’s famous people. Like in LA, I could stay in the Marquis or somewhere like that, but my record company know not to put me there. So I get put in hotels where it’s quiet. If I wanted to, I could pick up the phone and have a Mercedes around here in ten minutes to drive me around. But I’d rather nip out with my head down and hop on a Tube. Or even walk. I’m too quick for ‘em all (laughs). I don’t like being around famous people, I don’t like being treated like I’m famous and all that rubbish.

Are you sociable generally?

Not too much. I need to be on my own. I need space. I’ve got a few friends, you know what I mean? Some come up to my house and shit and hang out. No, I don’t mind being around people but I’m just not into being around celebrities really. I’d rather be around a boxing celebrity or a snooker celebrity rather than a musician.

You made your acting debut in The Fifth Element but don’t seem to have done anything since. Any interest in seriously pursuing a movie career?

Nah, I got put off all of that acting stuff with that film. I didn’t really enjoy it, I didn’t have a good time. It seems like every musician’s acting now and I don’t wanna be involved in that – you know, another musician appearing in a film. That’s why I was kinda glad it was an American movie, it wasn’t no English movie. ‘Cos you see these musicians popping up in all these English movies particularly.

Do you have doubts about your acting abilities?

If I can’t do it as good as someone like Gary Oldman then I ain’t gonna wanna do it, you know. I don’t think there’s no point. I don’t need to be a celeb. I don’t need my profile any bigger. If a director came to me and said, ‘I guarantee you that this film will touch people’s souls and your part in it will touch people’s souls’, then I’d do it. But it’d have to be a brilliant director and a brilliant part. I’ve had a few offers to appear in English gangster movies, which is the last thing I wanna do.

What do you make of Guy Richie’s stuff?

Ha! (snorts contemptuously). He wouldn’t know what a gangster was if one shot him in the head! I find his movies insulting. I find them slightly racist. I don’t know any gangsters who talk like that, walk like that. He really annoys me that boy, to be honest with you. He’s like the Fatboy Slim of movies. ‘Cos Fatboy Slim really fucking annoys me as well!

Do you find it difficult not to express this annoyance when you find yourself coming face to face with these people?

Oh I do express it, that’s the trouble, yeah. I told Fatboy Slim I think he’s a fucking Mickey Mouse producer when I seen him in Miami. He was in France and he did an interview with a magazine called Rock & Folk and he said loads of shit about me – what he thought about me musically and stuff. But when you see these people face to face they say, ‘no, I didn’t say that!’

Did Fatboy Slim deny slagging you off?

Yeah! But I know he’s lying ‘cos I know the editor of the magazine and there’s no way this editor would’ve printed that unless he’d said it, and I know that for a fact. So you’ve got all these fucking idiots, these Mickey Mouse producers, samplers – and I basically sent a message to him saying ‘Alright, we’ll go into the studio, you can take in your favourite writer, whoever gave you all your best reviews, and I’ll take in any writer, and they can watch us work. And we’ll do an EP in one day, without no samples, and we’ll write the music and the lyrics and the songs.’ And he didn’t wanna do that ‘cos he knew I’d prove him to be a Mickey Mouse producer. He’s a fucking idiot, man.

You said a moment ago that you grew up around gangsters. What do you make of the current crop of celebrity gangsters, people like Frankie Frasier and Ronnie Biggs?

I feel really sorry for Ronnie Biggs actually. He really only came back to get the NHS, didn’t he? I think any celebrity gangster is really a guy who needs to be making money at the end of their career. I think if you’re a celebrity gangster it can be slightly dangerous because other gangsters won’t take you serious. ‘Cos it’s a business, you know what I mean. They do one thing and all their respect goes. And once all their respect goes, they’re in a dangerous situation. I can understand why some of the guys do it, ‘cos they’re trying to get out of where they’re coming from. And people are fascinated. But being a celebrity gangster is just as dangerous as being a gangster in general, you know, ‘cos of your profile and stuff – some people won’t like that.

Would you have become a gangster yourself if your music career hadn’t taken off?

I would’ve sold drugs, yeah. Cos I’ve got friends who sell drugs and they’re making a lot of money. I don’t think I could see myself sitting around being broke, and I can’t see myself going to work every day, so I’d probably take the easy way out. Some of my best friends are just making so much fucking money, it’s unreal. Well, not my best friends but kids I went to school with and used to hang out with. Some of them have more money than me.

No qualms about the dangers involved?

When you grew up in that environment, I don’t think you even think of the danger. It’s just part of your life. You know nothing else.

Has growing up like that influenced your music much?

Yeah, I think my music is all based around my life – people I’ve grown up with, things I’ve seen, the community I’m from. Here, have you seen that film The General? He was some gangster. That boy didn’t give a fuck, did he? (There follows a long conversation about the Irish criminal underworld. Tricky’s particularly interested in the paramilitary angle and, interestingly, comes out fully in favour of CPAD . . .) You’ve got families over there who’ll, if you’re a known drug dealer, the community will come and smash your house up, yeah? They come quite heavy, don’t they? I kinda like that. I love the fact that these communities aren’t scared of these people, ‘cos usually these people – scumbag heroin dealers – keep the community down. I love the fact that Ireland does that. There’s places in England that need to do that.

Do you enjoy performing?

Yeah, ‘cos I like the travelling. I like not stopping in the one place for very long. I like being in a city for two days and then leaving. I’m a bit of a gypsy. I love getting to places like Tel Aviv. You know, I don’t take holidays, I prefer to have a reason to go someplace. Like, the first time I ever got on a plane was because of music. I don’t like going anywhere unless it’s for work (lights another spliff).

What’s the grass like in New York?

Grass is good everywhere these days with the hydroponics!! But I could always get good grass no matter where I was. I could get good grass in Bristol.

Do you smoke much?

I just smoke every day, even when I’m not working, you know. It’s just a habit I’ve got. I’ve had it since I was a young kid. It doesn’t really affect my asthma though. Alcohol affects my asthma. I’d drink and I’d get an asthma attack. But I don’t drink anymore and spliff doesn’t seem to bring it on.

You’re in your mid-thirties and you’ve now been famous for almost a decade. If you met yourself at 25, what advice would you have?

I’d say sort yourself out, otherwise you won’t live for very long. You’ll only live for a couple of years. When I was 25, I thought I had till I was 27 and then I thought I’d probably be gone. It was just how I felt and how the people around me felt. My girlfriend was always telling me that I’d be gone.

Were you really caning it?

My life was just crazy, you know. I was having asthma attacks and going into hospital. Pulling drips out of my arm, rolling big spliffs of weed, checking out of hospital and then going to parties and stuff.

What kind of people do you find it easiest to work or hang out with?

Street kids, to be honest. Not musos, I’m not very good with musos, celebrity musicians. Kids off the street I find it easier to work with. Like Hawkman, who’s on this album, is a street kid from the Bronx. He’s one of my boys, someone I hang out with all the time. I find it easier to work with someone who’s a friend. Like, take the Chili Peppers – I don’t know any of their music to be honest with you. But I met John Frusciante and he’s a good guy, so that’s why I went into studio with him.

You recently described your last few albums as being ‘fuck-off albums’, in the sense that you deliberately weren’t going to give people what they wanted. The new album’s unashamedly mainstream though. You’re obviously looking for some recognition this time around. . .

I’m tired of people ripping me off and no-one knowing who I am. I don’t wanna be like one of those blues guys, who end up dying in a little old shack, and no-one knows who they are except for a few serious collectors. I feel like I’ve influenced a lot of pop music. And I feel I’ve influenced black music as well, not just English pop culture. And I’m just sick of all these people claiming that it’s new music.

Like I hate that new Missy Eliot song. At the beginning of it she’s saying this is ‘new shit’. That’s not new music, man. It’s just frustrating to me, all these people claiming this and claiming that. It’s like the music industry at the moment is just one big… claim. You know, ‘I do new music’, ‘I’m the loudest’, ‘I’m the hardest’, ‘I spent the most money on my album’. But I’m not hearing any results. I’m hearing all the talk and I’m seeing all the clothes and all the right people fucking each other and stuff, but I’m not hearing any new music. I find a lot of artists insulting.Take Pulp. I see this guy on TV and I think obviously this must be for 14 or 15 year old kids, or younger. I mean, they make some good music but all that image thing, I think people can see through that.

But you have your own image as a dark and broody character and you don’t seem to be like that at all . . .

My public persona was made up by the press. So in a way it’s got nothing to do with it. But in another way it’s got everything to do with it (laughs).

How would you describe yourself?

I’ll put it like this – if you’re a celebrity musician, don’t just come and try talk to me because you’re a celebrity musician, because I’ll blank you out. Lenny Kravitz could come up to me in a club and I would turn my back on him. So I’m not a very nice person. I’m not very social like that, I’m not gonna talk to you just because you’re Lenny Kravitz. My personality is very militant, very militant. Like, you’d find me talking to one of the bar staff rather than Lenny Kravitz. I’m not very much of a celeb at all.

What’s been the high point of your life so far?

Highest point of my life? Seeing my kid being born (Tricky and Maxinquaye singer Martina have a six year old daughter called Maisie – OT). I’d never experienced anything like that in my life. So that was like a high point – as well as a low point as well, because having a kid is heavy.

Do you believe in God?

Nah! I believe more in a right and a wrong than in a God. I think Jesus was more like a Bob Dylan, John Lennon or Bob Marley kind of creature, you know. Someone who just knew a bit more than anyone else. But looking at all the shit in the world, I’d believe in aliens quicker than I’d believe in a God. It’s all so negative – the wars, even what’s happening in Northern Ireland. And I think organised religion’s like a little Mafia – poor people can’t get into the Vatican and all that. It’s bullshit. But I am a very spiritual person.

I heard a strange story about you meeting Bryan Adams in a lift somewhere…

Yeah, that was a really mad experience and it kinda changed my view about him totally (laughs). I have more respect for Bryan Adams than I’d say for any other musician! We were in an elevator and I didn’t recognise him first of all. He came in with his guitar and he recognised me and he asked me if I wanted to come to a gig. And I clicked who it was and, as the elevator was closing, this rich old couple – you know, big fur coat and shit – opened the door, and as he was talking to me he just stopped and said, ‘FUCK OFF AND CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR, YOU FUCKING OLD CUNTS!’ And he said this really loudly in one of the top hotels in New York. And then the doors closed and he turned around to me like nothing had happened and said, ‘So what about this gig, then?’ I was just standing there with my mouth open – ‘WOW!’

Sounds pretty demonic!

I couldn’t believe it! I was like. . . (drops jaw). It’s like these people you think are corny are actually the most demonic fuckers going. And Bryan Adams is just demonic. That’s dark. That’s really fucking dark. And when he left the elevator I was just, ‘Wow!’. But I thought he was really funny, somebody I’d definitely hang out with. I couldn’t see myself hanging out with Liam from Oasis. But people think Bryan Adams is really corny. I’d go into studio with Bryan Adams tomorrow and you’d have to pay me a lot of money to go in with Liam or Damon Albarn.

Didn’t you do a track with Albarn a few years ago?

Ah (waves hand away). Albarn is desperate to be a lower class cockney boy but, like, Bryan Adams – just give me a studio and I’m in there with him. He can do a vocal on my track as far as I’m concerned. I know we’d get something really good ‘cos I’ve seen his real personality and I know I could get it out of him. All it is, is just not making a song for the radio.

Are you as Tricky as your name implies in your own dealings?

I’m really good at manipulating people. I can get what I want off them. I’m so good at manipulating people I don’t even know that I’m doing it (laughs). Everyone’s always telling me that.

What do you make of Eminem?

I see bad things happening to him. It seems to me like that’s gonna end in tragedy. I don’t know why but it just seems like there’s going to be a tragic ending. Like, I don’t think he’s ready to be that famous. I’ve heard some little stories about him, shit he gets into and stuff, and I think… he’d probably need to be a bit more careful. ‘Cos it ain’t just music, man, it ain’t just about the music. You can get hurt. So I just see tragedy there. I see a car crash or something stupid happening.

Do you ever worry about negative publicity?

No, ’cos the press ain’t never gonna make me do anything like that. The press go too far with me, like that, and I’ll see them head-on. I’m not gonna let it happen to me, I’m not gonna sit down and blow my head off. I’ll blow somebody else’s head off, but it ain’t gonna be my head. So nah, I wouldn’t let things get to me like that. I’m a fighter. I’m not someone who’s gonna sit down and take it. If I was being terrorised by someone in the press, I wanna go and see him.

What’s the worst thing that’s ever been written about you?

Someone in The Face magazine wrote something about my kid. But he apologised afterwards because he knew I was gonna get him. And I would’ve got him. If he hadn’t written that apology, I would’ve got him. I would’ve waited ten years, but I would’ve got him.

What did he write?

He said I was a bad father to my kid, that I wasn’t a father to my daughter. He said that in so many words. Basically he wasn’t a father to his own kids and he was reflecting it onto me. And he was going on about how hard it is to be a father in this business, and I’m like ‘It’s not hard for me, my kid tours with me and I see my kid all the time’. But he apologised.

Are you a strict father?

Nah. Martina does the discipline. Her mum does the discipline. I’m not very good at that. But she’s not a very naughty girl so she doesn’t have to be disciplined, she’s just very smart.

Are there any celebrity musicians you do get along with?

Actually, I get on with Bono real well. He’s one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. He’s nothing like what I first expected. For one of the biggest rock stars in the world, he’s so not a celebrity. He’s almost like a comedian celebrity. I’ve never seen anyone like him. I took mushrooms with him in Jamaica and I was just rolling on the floor, man. There aren’t many people I’d just listen to telling stories, but when I’m with him, I can sit down and listen to him for two or three hours and just not say anything. You know, he can do impressions of people and shit. He cracks me up. I just like Bono’s personality, full stop. What I like about him is that he doesn’t hate anything. Like me, I hate everything. His attitude is to be cool with everybody. I sometimes wish I could be more like that.

Do you enjoy visiting Ireland?

I get a lot of love in Ireland. Ireland is one of my strongest places in Europe. Not for record sales but for passion. It’s one of the most passionate places for my music. Like, they get it. They get the stuff that no-one else gets. And even if they don’t get it, they still support me. I don’t know why that is. Maybe because I used to hang around a lot of Irish kids in Bristol – we used to call them ‘Romanies’ or ‘tinkers’. So I grew up around a lot of Irish. I don’t know if it’s affected me at all. But Ireland is very strong, a very strong, passionate place.

Maybe it’s because of their struggle. Maybe that’s why they understand it better than any other place in Europe. ’Cos it’s a constant struggle. In the States it’s all about me making new music, in Ireland it’s about struggle. I think it’s to do with the feel and the vibe. Places like Ireland don’t give a fuck whether my music is new or not. If it’s got that texture and it’s got that feel, they get it. It’s a totally different vibe.

What’s your main ambition in life?

To be the best. To be better than all that’s out there

Do you have a motto in life?

Yeah. Stay on your toes.