Out To Bunch!

OUR NEW Minister for Justice may be on a zero tolerance buzz at the moment, but no-one s told Horace Andy, who s busy asking anybody not in a blue uniform whether they ve got a spare bit of spliff . 45 minutes to go before Massive Attack are due on stage at the RDS and certain members of the posse are obviously in need of that Jamaican aroma they keep waxing lyrical about.
Having recently given my first preference to that paragon of liberalism Mary Harney, I tell the veteran crooner to stop being an evil drug-crazed monster or I ll get one of my Drug Squad friends to stick a rubber-gloved hand up his bottom.
The Wild Bunch, Massive Attack and Radiohead may seem like odd stage-fellows but in many ways they re kindred spirits, two bands who ve been claimed by the mainstream but are far too subversive to ever become the new UB40 or U2. It s fitting then that they seem to be indulging in a bit of a mutual-admiration society, Oxford s finest inviting their Bristol counterparts to take whatever liberties they want with their OK Computer album.
We re going to go into the studio and dismantle it track by track, threatens 3D (not his real name) who s parked alongside Daddy G in the Portakabin-with-go-faster-stripes that s been designated Massive HQ for the day. There s no point us trying to guess what they want because they don t know themselves. Y know, the thing to do is get a vibe going and see what happens like you do with your own records.
It s gotta be organic, agrees the G-man. A lot of times we get offered money to basically pass our credibility onto other people. We could make a fortune tarting up crap songs but we re not fucking Stock, Aitken & Waterman.
Awww, and I was so looking forward to the Ganja Headwreck mix of the new Brendan Keeley single.
I ve had OK Computer for a month and I love it, it s brilliant, 3D resumes, tucking into a plateful of strictly vegan nibblets. Massive have been touring since the 80s and this is the first time that catering s got the nosh right.
To be honest, we have done mixes for the money or because it involves a weekend away, but we really respect Radiohead and don t want to fuck it up. We ll just have to get stuck in, though, and if they think it s shite, so be it.
Far from being the product of a devious A&R mind, the Massive/Radiohead interface stems from a blown gasket in British Columbia.
Yeah, we sort of shadowed each other around last year in the States, explains a geographically-challenged 3D. They d play, I dunno, Chicago and we d turn up at the same venue a day later. The first time we had a proper getting-to-know-each-other session was when their tour bus broke down in Vancouver and we gave em a lift.
I m sure he s nice to his mum and all that, but on the two occasions I ve tried to engage Thom Yorke in chumly banter he s been about as forthcoming as a Tory MP at a sleaze inquiry.
Nah, he s alright, Daddy G insists. A bit quiet but that s better than having to deal with some coked-up tosser who s acting out his rock star fantasies. Actually, I should say his or her rock star fantasies because it s an equal opportunity ego trip! As someone who deejays a lot in clubs and mainly listens to dance and reggae, it s good there s a rock band like Radiohead that I can totally respect. They fucking blow you away on stage, man.
Give em 12 months and they ll be bigger than U2, reckons 3D. Compare OK Computer to Pop and, well, there isn t really a comparison. U2 are into concepts and big gestures whereas Radiohead are 100% about music. There s a huge gap at the moment for a big band who aren t up their own arses. REM were that for a while but they ve become too contented. When you re selling that many records, I d say it s quite easy to lose your edge.
Extracurricular activities are all very well and fine, but I d be guilty of gross dereliction of duty if I didn t ask Where the fuck s your own album? Originally due for release this summer, the successor to Blue Lines and Protection has now been put back to January 98 amidst tales of fastidiousness that would make even My Bloody Valentine blanch.
The problem with us, Daddy G chuckles, is there s always a Plan B . . . or C or D! We ve a bit of an excuse in that we spent a lot of time touring Protection and building our own studio but, yeah, there are tracks we ve been working on for a year that really need to have the lid put on them. In one way, this and Glastonbury and the gigs we re doing in Europe are stopping us from finishing the album off, but we need that distance. A lot of the songs haven t been played live before so this ll give us the chance to see how they stand up in public.
We re never going to have a mad jam session and knock a record out in two weeks, resumes 3D inbetween chomps of tofu. We didn t want to be totally anonymous this year, which is why we ve brought Risingson out as a single. People have been asking if it s representative of the album and I suppose it is of one strand. As usual, we re coming at it from a load of different angles so along with the dark dubby stuff you ve got melodic tracks and quite a bit of guitar.
It s official: Massive Attack rock! Independent corroboration arrives towards the end of their RDS set when not one, but two six-string sharpshooters from hell are employed to take new track Wire into previously uncharted Wild Bunch territory. The effect on the pimply-faced indie brigade down the front is dramatic previously immobile limbs spasming into a very passable impersonation of a mosh. There s no need for Metallica to start looking to their laurels quite yet but compared to the ghetto heaven vibe of old, this is full-on thrash metal.
We wrote it for this film called Welcome To Sarajevo which is about a British journalist who goes to Bosnia and ends up adopting a kid whose parents have been killed in the fighting, Daddy G reveals. They premiered it last month in Cannes and it s going on general release in September.
It s not the first soundtrack Massive have graced, Batman Returns, Mission: Impossible and the new Samuel L Jackson vehicle, 187, all benefiting from their genre-bending exploits.
The interest you get being involved in a hit film is phenomenal, 3D reflects. Forget remixes, if you want to become seriously rich move to Hollywood and hook up with one of the big studios. 187 is good because rather than the usual 30 seconds in the background, the director, Kevin Reynolds, decided to use our songs all the way through. He brought us in to make sure they fitted properly and because of that it works really well.
While 3D, Daddy G and Mushroom remain at the creative core, the past couple of years have witnessed the usual comings and goings in the Massive camp. Out are Nicolette and temporary signing Tracey Thorn while in are ex-Blue Aeroplanes guitarist Angelo Buscemi, Sister Deborah and the surname-less Sarah who s got a hell of a black voice for a white girl.
Risingson shows that rather than jumping on someone else s bandwagon, we re doing our own thing, Daddy G avers. I listen to a lot of reggae and drum n bass is sort of fun, but there s no one I like enough to want to copy em. That said, we re definitely living in interesting musical times. I was really surprised at the Wu-Tang Clan getting to number one in the UK because it s such a pure rap record. The watered-down stuff y know, LL Cool J and Warren G has always done well but this is the first time the mainstream has had the stomach for full-on hip-hop.
That s because they do it right, 3D suggests. The gangsta thing is too cartoony and local to where it s coming from, whereas the Wu-Tang are just as relevant to kids in London as they are in LA or New York.
Encouragingly for Massive, the current trans-Atlantic trade is two-way with Tricky, Portishead, Sneaker Pimps and other Bristol Sound acts they ve inspired starting to shift serious amounts of units.
The problem we re always going to have in America is that we don t fit into any of their neat little pigeon-holes, 3D continues. We re too white for black radio and white stations aren t comfortable with us because of the reggae vibe. Y know, they re okay with a bit of Bob Marley but anything else and they re frightened the ratings are going to plummet. There s definitely more room for manoeuvre in the States than there was, so hopefully we can start overcoming those prejudices.
Judging by the giggles from the other side of the Portakabin, Horace Andy s search for Acapulco Gold hasn t been entirely fruitless. Unfortunately, when they eventually saunter on stage, the 39,900 other people in the RDS seem to be on an entirely different buzz.
Stripped of the relative intimacy of the Point, where Massive reigned supreme last year, atmospheric workouts like Unfinished Sympathy and Spying Glass float away on the breeze as fast as the clouds of dry ice that punctuate them. The Wild Bunch are not a stadium act bad news for the record company but hang-up-the-bunting-time for the rest of us who d prefer to see them in their natural habit. You re just beginning to wonder whether they re really as good as you remember them when that shuffling beat hits the PA and Sister Deborah warns that if anyone hurts what s hers, she ll sure as hell retaliate.
To borrow a phrase from their old mate Tricky, wicked! n