Riders on the Storm

Vines bassist Patrick Matthews – a very pleasant and engaging individual entirely – is educating me on the delicate politics of inter-band relations.

“We found the world’s most gregarious person in Hamish (Rosser, drums),” he says “It’s bizarre. I think he might be mad actually. Drummers generally are, so he totally fits the stereotype. I think we all do in a way, though. The bass player is meant to be the most put upon and accommodating and sensible, like [adopts a goofy voice] ‘Guys, we’re gonna leave all the gear behind! We can’t go out!’”
So what about lead players, then?
“Guitarists are just show offs. The singer’s meant to be the unusual one. That’s not just a stereotype though, that’s a fact. I’ve not met many singers who aren’t oddballs. Is Craig included? Of course he is!”
In a very short space of time, The Vines have made the transition from the anonymous existence of four music fans in Sydney suburbia (“it looks just like it does on Neighbours”) to one of the most talked about and sought after rock acts on the planet. Along the way, the band’s drink and drug fuelled antics have launched them into the eye of a media storm.
Following the release and subsequent international success of 2002’s UK Top 5 debut Highly Evolved, the band embarked on a gruelling world tour, taking in dates across the UK and a now infamous American leg that, after nine months on the road, saw the band axed from the Jay Leno show after frontman Craig Nicholls trashed the studio during rehearsals. A few days later after Patrick apparently broke a bass string, he and Craig went for each other’s throats on stage in Boston sending the duo tumbling into the crowd.
They went home to Australia to get their heads together. There, they experienced their first backlash following a series of shambolic festival dates in their native country. Fans became so disgusted with the band’s performance that they reportedly wore their Vines T shirts inside out in protest. The press were also less than kind, describing the Big Day Out show in particular as “painful”. As rumours of Craig’s drug use, out of control behaviour and increasing detachment from his bandmates spread, The Vines’ future began to look rocky. However, in response, the quartet retreated to a local Sydney studio to work on songs for the next album and ride out the storm. A re-scheduled and altogether less tumultuous US jaunt commenced, followed by yet another series of UK dates, with the final gig in a year and a half-long tour at Dublin’s Ambassador in May 2003.
“Dublin was the last show we did on that tour,” Patrick remembers. “That was a nice crowd, cos we were a complete shambles.”
While no complaints were made of their performance at the time, tales of the band’s post-gig debauchery are now the stuff of legend in the hotpress offices (“one of the support bands gave me half a pill that night, so I don’t remember much”, says Patrick in his defence).
With touring at the back of their minds, the summer of 2003 was spent recording and winding down in the legendary town of Woodstock in upstate New York – a quiet, secluded, luscious haven – with long time producer Rob Schnapf.
“Rob is from back East so he knew that New York in the summer time is very pretty. It’s got some nice studios upstate in Woodstock, a little artistic community. He wanted to do it there. Woodstock’s world famous but the town’s really tiny. I was quite surprised. There’s only two bars as well, so there aren’t many distractions. We ended up knowing the bartenders and getting on to ‘pint of the usual’ terms. We didn’t raise hell, though.”
Patrick is quick to squash the rumour that Phil Spector had been tipped to produce the new album.
“That was rubbish. I actually met his daughter and went over to his house. I found out this was Phil Spector’s daughter and she said she lived in a castle, so I was a bit drunk and I said ‘Can I come over to your house?’, so the next day I went over, but I never met Phil. I had no real intention of getting him to work on the album, I just wanted to check out the house!”

With the songs already written, laying the tracks for what became Winning Days was a reality check for the group. Regular meals and the novelty of staying in one place for more than a coule of days at a time saw them relaxing on record, yawning, having a stretch, and spilling their frustrations into their instruments in frenetic bursts (see ‘Ride’, ‘Animal Machine’). They also conjured moments of sublime, sun soaked, melodious reflection (‘Autumn Shade II’, ‘Sunchild’). It’s an effortless sound; direct and to the point, but charming, beautifully constructed, glorious, dark and demented all at the same time.
The band wear their influences proudly on their sleeves, with Britpop being particularly prevalent; Blur’s ‘Coffee And TV’-style short, jabbing guitars on the aforementioned ‘Ride’; soft ‘Tender’-like acoustics on ‘Sunchild’; and the sinister tones of Suede on ‘Animal Machine’. Moments redolent of The Smiths and Stone Roses are combined with ‘60s harmonies worthy of the Beach Boys, with a bit of Pixies and Nirvana here and there for good measure.
“Definitely Blur and Supergrass and Suede,” agrees Patrick. “We are actually massive fans of Britpop. I think we’re the only ones these days! That Live Forever documentary came out and it seems so far in the past now, but for us, that’s really our favourite kind of music. Well, our favourite 90s music. I tried my best with the Stone Roses. Craig’s not really a fan of the Roses. But I love Mani’s basslines, it’s the archetypal ’cool’ way of playing bass. I should’ve gone to see them when they played in Sydney, but they came after I decided that I didn’t like Second Coming. I can’t believe, to my eternal shame, that when Second Coming came out I didn’t like it. When I listen to it now it’s obviously one of the greatest records of all time.”
Judging by their history, you’d guess that the band would feel more at home in the womb-like confines of the studio than out on the road – but now, at the start of yet another tour, Patrick is anxious to get back into the groove of playing live.
“We’ve been touring long enough now that we’re kind of getting used to it. Like, you know, soundcheck, and then sit around and, well, try not to drink too much before you go on stage. I’ve tried to learn my lesson on that count. I remind myself of something that annoys me about it like burping in to a microphone from drinking warm beer that’s been sitting on top of my amp. I’m trying to be a little bit professional.
“Are we growing up? Well, we’re not a lean, mean, stadium-playing band, but we are getting a little bit better. But it’s hard to say, at this stage of the tour, it’s impossible to know how you’re going to feel in three months time. We’re going on tour with Jet, and they like to drink.”
Two sets of antipodeans on one tour? Crikey! Are you expecting a messy drunken affair or a more civilised form of alcoholism?
“Civilised alcoholism? Like Dylan Thomas style?! Nah, I’m a pretty bad drunk. The more I drink, the more I drink! [Laughs] I tend to get drunk and then go for the drugs. What’s my preferred narcotic? We can’t be talking about these things! I’ll leave you to guess.”

Continuing the new healthyleaf he’s turned over, Patrick is quick to inform me of his favourite form of self help.
“Jogging. Seriously! No, it isn’t very rock ‘n roll, you’re right. I brought a pair of running shoes on tour with me but it got too cold over here, you’d get frostbitten lungs, miserable, but back home I was jogging. In Motley Crue’s book The Dirt, when Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx go off the drugs they go jogging. I’ve always enjoyed it though, it keeps me sane – although it hasn’t been working. I watch a lot of TV comedy as well, Bo Selecta!’s on at the minute, and I love Jackass and The Office.
“We met a couple of the Jackass guys actually. They were promoting their movie at a gig we were doing and going on stage between the two main bands. They were supposed to light themselves on fire but in the end they weren’t allowed. But Steve-O and Party Boy then came on the bus and had a bong. It was quite funny actually, Craig threw his bong away because Stevo had touched it. Anyone would, you’d have to catch something off him. He swam in sewage.
“I’ve been reading a bit recently, too,” Patrick continues. “I like to read travel books. When people just write about the world and it’s just one person travelling the place and they don’t go with anyone else. I think it’s just the attitude of exploring the world on your own. I used to try and make myself just put on a backpack and go. Hamish has done that a whole lot. I used to tell myself, ‘That’s what I’m going to do, that’s what I should do’, but I didn’t have the guts. If you do it by yourself you’ve got to go and book the ticket by yourself, and then you catch the plane and you land in another country and you’re by yourself. But I’m going to make myself do it one day.”
Where would you go?
“I’d go to Ireland first, I think. Our tour manager was born in Belfast and has an Irish passport. I like to tell him I’m Irish because in 1850 a relative of mine emigrated to Australia. I’m about half Irish, half English, but it’s from so long ago. I think they were from Galway and Cork.
It’s not a guilty pleasure as such, but I really like Irish folk music – stuff that was sort of popular in the ’70s like The Dubliners and The Clancy Brothers. And I like The Fureys, but that’s a bit more soppy. And I like The Pogues a bit. I just hate any Irish music – except for The Pogues – that puts standard drums in it. The Pogues is the only one I can handle, everything else just sounds like it’s taking the piss. I have this U2 Best Of that I listen to a lot, it’s got those Joshua Tree songs that I love. And I like Ash too.”
Indeed, and there’s a wealth of young rock bands coming up through the ranks, I say.
“Do you know the Future Kings Of Spain?” he interjects. “They were in Hollywood when we were making the record and we played a show with them. I can’t even remember what they sounded like now, but I remember thinking they were good at the time. The Thrills achieved international success too. They aren’t my favourite, though,” he says, dryly. “And what was that other band? We played with them in Dublin?”
La Rocca?
“Yeah! That’s them!” he recalls. “Those were the guys who gave me the pill!”