Rapture of the deep

Some artists spend their careers, not to say their lives, courting the hipster demo. One thinks of U2 and especially David Bowie, who, it sometimes seems, would rather be dead than unfashionable.

Needless to say, upon emerging three years ago The Rapture, four skinny New Yorkers with a line in pouty photo shoots and dark, glittering indie-dance, did not fall into this category. Graduates of the Brooklyn art-rock scene, the quartet exploded out of the traps with the stone-cold club classic ‘The House Of Jealous Lovers’, a single that simultaneously referenced Giorgio Moroder and Joy Division. Hipness in extremis felt their due.
The problem with hipsters, of course, is that they are pathologically fickle (never trust a tribe that pioneers the wearing of chunky spectacles and laceless sneakers). No sooner had The Rapture’s star begun to wane – or, more to the point, that of their production gurus The DFA – than their fanbase moved out and on.
By the time the foursome got back to New York after a marathon tour in support of Echoes, their borderline flop first album, a declining profile was the least of their problems. 18 months on the road had all but torn The Rapture apart. At the root of the tension lay a familiar story of uncontainable egos and communication breakdowns.
“The problem was that we just weren’t confrontational people, so the bad feelings had been allowed to fester under the surface until it got to the point where the emotions were really ugly,” recalls vocalist and keyboard player Matt Safer. “What we found out is that there's a reason why bands break up, why all those clichés about life on the road being so grueling are true.”
Things came to a head shortly after the tour wrapped. In a rather unpleasant confrontation, singer Luke Jenner, The Rapture’s self-appointed frontman and public face, got it in the neck from his bandmates. Jenner, by all accounts, regarded the group as a vehicle for his personal musical visions. Bluntly, the rest of The Rapture told him this would have to change.
“He already knew the band wasn’t his alone,” says Safer. “Maybe he didn’t want to admit that to himself. So yeah, we had it out. Fortunately we’re all sensible people, so it didn’t come to blows.”
Having decided they weren’t going to kill one another, The Rapture set about piecing together the shattered fragments of their career. That, at least, is how it looked on the outside. From within the bubble, Safer sees things differently.
“We never really were as big as people imagined in the first place,” he explains. “There was hype, but it seemed to be mostly in England. It was a real eye-opener for us, as New Yorkers, to see how things worked there. The music press in England gets so excited about debut albums. In the US it works a little slower. I never believed the hype because, to me, it wasn’t real.”
Shooting the breeze in his Brooklyn apartment, Safer is mildly perplexed when it's suggested that Pieces Of The People We Love, The Rapture’s white reggae tinged new album is less straightforwardly dance-oriented than Echoes.
“All of our music has a dance thing going on,” he proffers, a little defensively. “With this LP we went in a more funky and r'n'b direction, so maybe that’s why people think it’s a change for us.”
The record marks a parting of the ways between The Rapture and The DFA, the New York production team led by LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy. The significance of that should not be be understated. Masters of the gutbucket techno groove, the DFA helped make The Rapture the band they were (and clearly no longer are). In particular, ‘The House Of Jealous Lovers’ is heavy with their imprint.
Safer insists there was no falling out. Nevertheless, he admits The Rapture had started to resent the perception, widely held, that The DFA were the real talent in the partnership.
“There was some of that, if I’m being honest,” Matt acknowledges. “People saw us as playing second fiddle to them, which was totally not the case.”
For a while it looked like Rick Rubin would replace The DFA. The Rapture went so far as to lunch with him at his favourite LA restaurant. In the end though, Rubin chose to work on the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Stadium Arcadium instead. Scratching around for a producer, The Rapture next got talking to Brian ‘Danger Mouse’ Burton, the giddy maverick behind the Grey Album and Gnarls Barkley. Despite his nightmare schedule, Burton found time to work on two tracks (the rest of the record was overseen by Ewan Persson, the band’s old soundman).
“Danger Mouse opened us up to a lot of sounds,” Safer reveals. “He was listening to psychedelic stuff from the ‘60s and encouraged us to get into it too. It definitely rubbed off on the record.”
Hanging with the very famous is, naturally, little novelty to any New York band of consequence. One thinks for instance of TV On The Radio, who may well have to take out a barring order against number one admirer David Bowie (see what we mean?). Not to mention Karen O, practically stalked by style mags. Danger Mouse aside, which A-listers are in The Rapture’s camp?
“Well Denzel Washington is a big fan. He comes to all the shows.” Really?
"No," Safer chuckles, "I’m just kidding. I don’t think we’ve got any famous admirers. Amen to that.”