Onward Crispian Soldiers

THERE ARE numerous crap jobs in this world but none, repeat none, can match the inherent awfulness of being a Kula Shaker roadie.
As if having to parade round with ponytails and trousers that expose the cracks in their arses wasn t bad enough, these poor put-upon men and women have to endure the daily horror of a Hammond organ soundcheck.
I ve been with them at the SFX for an hour and the relentless parp-parping is starting to trigger off nightmarish memories of the time when Keith Emerson and his loon-panted ilk weren t just tolerated but worshipped by the greater part of the nation. In other words, for all their hi, we re here to take over from Britpop pretensions, there s a strong suspicion that the Kulies are in fact the bastard sons of prog rock.
Let s consider the case for the prosecution. At least one of them regards himself as an Arthurian Knight searching for the Holy Grail. Their live set includes a Deep Purple cover. And, most damning of all, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the lead singer s name is Crispian.
Indeed, it s the boy Mills who s today providing me with my own personal Holy Grail. The word from management had been that Hayley s little boy wasn t doing press but after an impressive display of journalistic tantrum-throwing, I m informed that our auras will indeed get to mingle.
We re just reaching the check-wahn-tooooo stage when I m ushered through to the safe haven of the Kula Shaker dressing-room which, for some strange reason, has a sign bearing the blasphemy Guinness is no good and neither are U2 gaffa taped to the door. Unfortunately, it also turns out to be a rather dull haven, Mills aversion to cigarettes and alcohol meaning that the only place in the vicinity where you can get well and truly hammered is support band The Driven s tour bus.
Having spent the previous night curled up on the settee with Kula Shaker s collected press clippings, I m well aware of Crispian s how shall I put this? eccentricities, but even so, I m totally unprepared for his opening gambit.
What s your name?
Stuart Clark.
Clark? Alright, that s got a k in it. That s a good omen. We re going to get on really well.
Blimey, if I was a hood-carrying member of the Ku Klux Klan, we d be shagging by now. This Arthurian Knight business. You taking the piss?
With the way we re all brought up now, our potential is so limited, he replies in a decidedly Jagger-esque Home Counties drawl. We re told, oh, you can t believe that, that s not right. This is the way the world was made and this is what you are, you re just a temporary functioning biological unit. You re going to live, you re going to work and then you re going to fuck off and die. The whole deal stinks.
I have to say that England is the worst place in the world for that sort of limited thinking. It s like, I ve only been here six hours and already I m noticing that people are way more open-minded and receptive to what we re doing than they are back home. And I d say that s got a lot to do with you being surrounded by the spirits of ancient Celts. Those guys were into some seriously heavy shit.
Speaking from an Anglo-Saxon perspective myself, I ve always considered the blandness of the British psyche to be a direct result of us having nothing in particular to get fucked up about. Take religion, for instance. While there s a whole lifetime of angst and self-flagellation to be derived from Catholicism, the only time I ve experienced Church of England guilt is when I nicked the last slice of Victoria Sponge at the vicarage bring-and-buy cake sale.
And then there s the blatant disregard for our heritage. There s a perfectly good reason why the streets aren t awash with Morris Dancers i.e. they look like knobheads but it s strange that a country with such strong nationalist tendencies barely acknowledges St. George s Day.
I don t really like St. George in the sense that, well, you know.
No, I don t.
That he s the patron saint of England. Him being the knight that kills the dragon the higher self destroying the lower self is cool, though.
You asked earlier about us taking the piss, he continues. Well, we do sometimes when people especially journalists deserve it. I m 100% committed to my beliefs but that doesn t mean I can t be tongue-in-cheek. Discovering spiritual life has to be fun or otherwise there s no point getting into it. That s why I have a problem with Gnosticism. They re all into knowledge and climb up their own arse about the Jewish sisters of the Kabbala and sacred unctures. I mean, what use is that to normal people?
Oh, I don t know. Many s the time I ve been in a sticky situation and thought, if only I had a sacred uncture with me. Anyway, I m interrupting.
The reason we should be interested in legends like King Arthur is that they represent a time when we were more in touch with our spirituality. The moment you re born you have a soul. Your body s temporary but your soul goes on forever, which is why it s not just important, it s everything.
If Mills places that much value on the soul and the need to be born, surely he has to be anti-abortion?
I don t know if it s right for someone in my position to start making pronouncements about such a sensitive issue as that, he back-pedals. What I would say is that by allowing yourself to get into that position, you re opening the floodgates for all sorts of stuff you have no control over. It s like, you need a responsible administrative government and we don t have one. It s either all or nothing.
Not for the first time this afternoon, I suspect that we re operating on different astral planes. What sets Kula Shaker apart from the Britpop masses is their choice of favourite Beatle. The likes of Noel Gallagher and John Power might get their jollies from the Lennon/McCartney songbook, but it s George Harrison who sets the Mills pulse racing.
Apart from the interest in all things spiritual, the most obvious manifestation of this is the range of psychedelic embellishments which steer their multi-platinum K album into Revolver territory.
Then there s the religious connection, Harrison and Crispian s mum both being closely associated with the Hare Krishnas.
Having had an interest in that movement in the past, I d say the people joining nowadays are doing so because they want someone else to take control of their lives for them. The Krishnas have really distanced themselves from what they were when they started which was the standard-bearers of revolutionary-type spiritual philosophy. Deep down, I ve got a lot of respect for that philosophy, but since their founder died, they ve become just another religion.
Actually, talking of George Harrison, a little dickie bird on The Driven tour bus tells me that he s just given you permission to rework one of his songs.
Yeah, Crispian gushes. I sent him a letter saying, we ve put some words to one of the riffs you used on the Wonderwall soundtrack. If you think it s okay, can we use it please? . That was no problem, so we re going to stick it out as a B-side.
Also in the can is the track that Crispian s co-authored with The Prodigy for their new album.
Liam, who s the main music man, rang up and said he had some music that he wanted me to help turn into a song. I heard the tape, which was great, and lied through my teeth about having loads of ideas. Luckily, I was on my way to the studio when all these melodies and words exploded in my head. I was trying to block everything else around me out, so I wouldn t forget em before I got there!
It was good, he continues. I went in and told them that what we should do is to take the music to its logical conclusion. They were like, great, what s that then? , and I shouted, to the end of the world!
Being a rampant heterosexual, I tend not to fancy male bands, but even I wanted to shag The Prodigy senseless when I interviewed them before Christmas. Would Crispian agree that, pound for pound, they re the sexiest band in Britain at the moment?
No, I wouldn t want to shag em, he laughs. Not on the first date, anyway! They ve certainly got charisma, which can be the male interpretation of what women see as sex appeal.
Keith looks brilliant with the hair and the bone through his nose. He s more there for the vibe, I think, than the creative process. Which isn t to say I don t approve of someone sitting at the back skinning up joints all day.
It s a good thing Crispian s not in East 17 or he d be out of a fucking job. Loathe as I am this being a family publication and all to mention the D-word, there does seem to be a certain pharmaceutical element within Kula Shaker s work. If he was reincarnated as Brian Harvey, what would be Mills contribution to the Ecstasy debate?
I think drugs can give people a simulated mystical experience, he proffers. I d already had a mystical experience by the time I went to a big dance event on E so, for me, it was a bit cheap and phoney. Nothing compares to a genuine awakening of the heart, though if someone gets an insight into a different type of experience by taking Ecstasy or acid, I wouldn t knock it. The big danger is, the effect wears off and rather than being closer to the answer, you re left with even more questions.
All this talk of drugs and mystical experiences puts me in mind of the Alabama 3 single, Ain t Goin To Goa , which for Crispian s delectation I d like to quote: There ain t nothing worse than some fool lying on some third world beech in spandex psychedelic trousers/ smoking damn dope and pretending he s getting consciousness-expansion.
They ve got a point, haven t they?
Yeah, I totally agree with them. I remember a while back Youth saying, you ve got to imagine dancing at dawn in a dayglo-painted Goan temple. Too bloody right I can imagine it! If I go to India, I want the real thing, not the Club 18-30 version.
None of the experiences I ve had in India have been drug-induced, he insists. And it s not just about getting caught up in the religious thing. You see a spark in people s eyes that you just don t get anywhere else in the world.
While there are those who think it d be more honest if the band called themselves Kula Faker, it s hard not to be won over by Mills sincerity. True, he disappears up his perfectly proportioned bottom with alarming regularity, but in the immortal words of one John Lydon, he means it, man!
If you were to write this interview up and say, Crispian Mills is barking mad , I wouldn t mind, but if you suggested I was dishonest or trying to con people, yeah, I d be pissed off.
Curiously enough, the number of marbles in Crispian s possession was one of the subjects mulled over this afternoon when I joined his K colleagues Paul Winter-Hart and Jay Darlington at the Berkeley Court for a spot of tiffin.
I don t think your average NME or Melody Maker journalist can get a handle on the fact that he s got more to say about life than how many women he knobbed last night, Winter-Hart suggests in -between sips of Earl Grey. There are bands nowadays who purposefully halve their IQ when they re doing interviews because they know yob culture sells.
The opposite s true as well, the drummer continues. We ve been slagged off in reviews for no other reason than we re middle-class.
So you re willing to go on the record and categorically state that your lead singer is not one lentil short of a dhaal. Before you reply, may I remind you that this is the man who recently said, we re just puppets and St. George has got his hand up our arses.
I think or at least I hope he was being metaphorical, Winter-Hart laughs. Crispian s Crispian, y know? He takes what he does very seriously but he s not adverse to having a laugh and he s certainly not mad. Well, no more than any other musician.
Winter-Harts own murky past includes a spell with a Glastonbury-based prog rock combo whose name he refuses to divulge because it s too naff. What was it like growing up surrounded by all those ley lines?
This notion of the English countryside being really idyllic is bollocks. I spent two months walking round the dodgiest parts of LA and never had any bother. I went back to Glastonbury and the first Saturday night I got chased by a load of skinheads because I had a beard.
I m sure there s a smart-arsed comment to be made there but, hey, why spoil a beautiful friendship? Jay Darlington s musical CV is altogether less blemished, a penchant for late 70s punk developing into a full-blown love affair with ska and mod. In fact, the feather-cut he s currently sporting makes him a deadringer for the young Steve Marriott.
Very possibly the world s only Hammond organ-playing milkman, Darlington s 1994 arrival inspired the rest of the then Kays to change their name to Kula Shaker and go gunning for a major label deal. That arrived a year later, helped in part by a shared first place with Placebo and Performance in the In The City Best Unsigned Band competition. Doubtless, then, they re fully paid-up members of the Tony Wilson Fan Club.
What we think of Tony Wilson is probably best summed up in a gesture, Darlington says as he indulges in what could be mistaken as a mid-air five-knuckle shuffle but is doubtless one of those sacred unctures. We almost had a fight with him after we came off stage because there were all these cronies of his in the dressing-room nicking our drink. We chucked a couple of them out, Wilson freaked and what could be described as a slight fracas ensued.
Not only that, Paul adds conspiratorially, but it was weird how three bands won.
Unfortunately, there are only so many cases that Agents Mulder and Scully can handle. One of the hottest items down Camden Market at the moment is a bootleg of the Kays first demo which features not Crispian but a geezer called Saul Dismont on lead vocals.
Saul s actually Crispian s cousin and was in the band because, basically, he wanted to be a frontman, Paul resumes. His interest in music was far more peripheral, so it was never going to work out long-term. His big thing s always been DJing and, as far as I know, he s doing really well for himself at the moment in London.
Another name that looms large in Kula Shaker folklore is that of their Madness Guru Don Pecker.
Don s this really excellent character who discovered that he s descended from the Knights of the Holy Grail whilst doing a stretch for GBH in Wormwood Scrubs. He s down in Somerset at the moment training injured race horses but before that he was a Krishna, a paratrooper, a taxi driver and a not very good busker. He s been run over, beaten up and axed. You name it, Don s been there.
Psychedelia I don t have a problem with, but if Kula Shaker follow the same career path as their 60s counterparts, it won t be long before they re linking up with the London Symphony Orchestra to record a concept album about gnomes.
The dreaded prog rock, you mean, Darlington deadpans. Well, we ve already got the Hammond stabbing and Crispian s written the first draft of Elvis On Ice . . .
No, seriously, we re into instrumental rock but not the self-indulgence which, for the main part, went with it in the 70s. We don t want to be wanky or show off our musicianship because we don t have any.
There was some good prog as well, his colleague lies. It wasn t all Emerson, Lake & Palmer. The Court Of The Crimson King is a good album, and Yes recorded a couple of classics before disappearing up their own bums. It was a new thing and everyone was trying to outdo each other in terms of tastelessness.
Back at the SFX and Darlington s Hammond has finally attained perfect parpment. Luckily for the road crew s sanity, all the tablas and sitars are on DAT along with most of the vocal harmonies and a generous helping of percussion. I suppose there s only so much eight hands can do.
Before I sprint off to The Driven s tour bus to take care of my own personal consciousness-expansion, I wonder if there s a final pearl of spiritual wisdom that Crispian Mills would like to impart to the Hot Press readership?
I think we are a force for youth revolution, he says eyeing up a generous portion of vegetarian lasagne. We are the Knights on a quest for the Grail and all of this is jousting.
And there was me thinking they were a rock band! n