Right-way Corrigan

A few years ago, while working in London’s Dublin Castle as MC, soundman, and general factotum, Martin Corrigan took to the stage at the end of a notably insipid performance from a lauded new indie hopeful, and, in protest, read out Franz Kafka’s The Trial, in its entirety, backwards.

"I’ve never had a better reception," he grins. "Fucking booing, slow handclaps, walk outs. It was brilliant."

On the eve of the release of his band’s first L.P, it’s heartening to see that the Fermanagh man’s penchant for skewed narratives and onstage theatrics has yet to wane. How To Hang Off A Rope is a teeming dystopia populated by weirdos, would-be astronauts, backwoods degenerates and "dangerous pets". Musically, it twitches with the kind of fevered guitar dementia that afflicted Jesus Lizard, Pixies and Big Black, while all the while keeping a beady eye on the panic-stricken melody chained firmly to the woodshed. It’s a record whose sharp elbows continually nudge one idea out of the way for another. A top notch, frenetic, debut, then. But Mr Corrigan, too much caffeine, huh?

"Not at all," he says. "I’m a really mellow kind of guy. I’ve always been mellow. I’m not sure you can write anything worthwhile if you’re just a complete lunatic. I’m genuinely trying to create something interesting. I’m not there completely, but I’m getting closer. It’s about building up confidence. Anyone who creates or writes never has total confidence. I’m looking to build up to maybe 90 percent. It’s about 60 at the minute. I can see where I’m going, but I’ll just have to have faith in myself.”

Highlights? Try opener ‘We’re The Wire’ – a twisted tale of mail order incest and rustling in the bushes set to a prime Joey Santiago space thrash, or ‘Astroman’, wherein our hero decides he’d like to attach an engine to his back and go race around stadiums. Best of the lot is the brooding ‘Water Ballad’: a half kitsch, half eerie story of a job gone bad played out against a backdrop of Rid Of Me Polly.

"It’s essentially Johnny Cash crossed with Shellac," explains Martin. "It’s a country song, a murder ballad, a couple of fellas falling out and shooting one-another. It’s been done a million times before. Although, maybe not about water rustlers. It’s the song that set the tone for the whole album to be honest. Once that came out, I was like ‘Right, so that’s what you’re getting at.’"

So, that’s the MO – the songs lead you?

"Totally. I can’t do covers. Literally, I can’t physically play other people’s songs because they’re too difficult. I’m an incredibly limited musician. So, whatever comes out, whatever I write, I just have to follow it. There are songs there, the more difficult ones, that I genuinely don’t know how I ever played them. Honest to god. Fortunately, it’s turned out okay."

The wintry, fiscal climate facing new bands at the moment is every bit as bleak and intimidating as the imagined environment of Corrigan’s new LP. However, buoyed up by a successful recent tour of Britain, and the championing they’ve received from the likes of Kerrang, Corrigan are looking ahead with, as the song says, hope.

"We’re baby rock stars taking baby steps. I’m over the moon just having a CD in my hand with my songs on it. I mean, fucking hell. But at the same time there is a mountain of work to do to get as many people aware of it as we can. At the minute it doesn’t seem too great for new acts, but this kind of thing happens again and again and again and we come out of it. I’m just going to concentrate on my own thing and pray for the best."