Scarlet Fever

“When you’ve been in a band for a long time it goes beyond friendship really,” says Niall Byrne, guitarist with the Redneck Manifesto. He's responding to a question about the title of their new record, Friendship. “It’s like having another family. There’s a bond there that’s hard to explain.”

The instrumental post-rock family are currently presiding over the release of a fourth album (proper) of thrillingly intertwined guitar, bass and synth grooves. Back in 1998, Dublin was newly in boom and the four founder-members (they’re now a five piece) were all staggering from the wreckage of other Liffeyside bands (Jackbeast, Blackbelt Jones, The Waltons and Hylton Weir).
“I think it was a much more close-knit scene back then,” says Niall. “I would have been at gigs playing with Richie’s band or Meryvn’s band or Mattie’s band. It so happened that those bands fell apart at the same time and we all knew each other. I think it began with Mervyn [Craig, drummer] and Mattie [Bolger, guitarist]...”
“They had a trumpet player at first didn’t they?” asks bass-player Richie Egan (who also records as Jape).
“Um... That was me,” says Niall. “I was going to play the trumpet.”
“All I remember is that we were all really excited to be in a band with Niall from Jackbeast,” says Richie. “Jackbeast were a really big band for me and Mattie.”
As you might expect from an instrumental outfit, the fledgling band united under a groove and didn’t need the help of pub conversations or – their name notwithstanding – half-baked manifestos.
“It was pretty straightforward,” says Richie. “It was all about being able to express ourselves together and separately in the same unit. So me and Mervyn worked really tightly on the groove, and the interplay developed between Matty and Niall’s guitars. There was no real plan. In fact, we never even planned it to be an instrumental thing: that sort of evolved. I don’t remember planning things in the pub. But I do remember going there after practice to talk about how good we were.”
Instrumental music was in the air. Fellow travellers The Jimmy Cake, Estel, Damien Frost, and the Connect Four Orchestra (from where they got their keyboard player, Somadrone composer Neil O’Connor) were all doing the rounds at that time.
“It was Dublin’s musical hive-mind!” says Richie. “We had a few a lyrics on a couple of tunes at one point. We’ve always been about the groove and the riff. When we play live people sing along the riffs.”
“I think the instrumental stuff all started with Cabinboy,” says Niall. “They were from the North, but they were one of the first instrumental bands regularly playing in Dublin.”
And what were you listening to yourselves? “I was listening to lots of post-rock,” admits Niall.
“That must be a first,” says Richie, “a post-rock band that admits to listening to post-rock.”
The Redneck Manifesto were always destined for the independent route. “If you want to do something, you go do it,” says Niall. “It was before the internet made it easy. If you wanted people to hear your stuff, you had to go do it yourself. If you wanted to put out records you did it yourself. Everyone else was doing it and it was kind of empowering. It made the hours of being in a band rehearsing, and recording stuff, worthwhile. You can spend a lot of time being in a band.”
They certainly spent a lot of time touring.
“The first time we toured Europe it was great,” says Niall. “Everything was new. The gigs weren’t particularly great. It didn’t matter. It was like, ‘What else would I be doing on Monday night? I’m in France!’ Then you get tired from lack of sleep and you’d get cranky and you fight.”
“Pretty much anyone who’s driven us on tour has gone mad,” says Richie, enigmatically.
“The first time in Europe Jeff Martin (singer/songwriter and Halfset member) drove us around,” recalls Niall.
“That was definitely Jeff’s Vietnam,” says Richie darkly. “He left something behind on the border between Germany and France.”
In recent years things have been much quieter for the Redneck Manifesto, and both Richie and Neil have become as well known for their solo-projects, Jape and the aforementioned Somadrone. How do these disparate sounds fit into the world of the Rednecks?
“I’ve said it before, but when it comes to Jape and the Rednecks, it’s like taking a shit and having a sandwich,” says Richie. “They’re both enjoyable. But I don’t do them at the same time.”
(“I hope we’re the sandwich,” says Niall).
“I don’t know,” says Neil, who’s been sitting quietly as the other two discuss the early days of the band. “Subconsciously I think doing other music affects things. I sometimes find myself using keyboard lines and sounds that might be similar to something I’d use in Somadrone.”
At various stages in the discussion there are interesting points of agreement and disagreement between the three assembled Rednecks about music, art and life itself. Richie likens their creative process to the film Twelve Angry Men, Niall and Richie are effusive in their praise of Neil’s synth lines.
Later, there’s a discussion of Enya in which – going completely against stereotype – Richie praises her at considerable length, and there’s also an involved and recurring discussion on the ethical use of chorus pedals on bass guitar (“It’s a very dangerous area,” says Neil, “the whole chorus pedal thing.”)
“We’re quite a contrary band in the sense that we kind of do exactly what we want and what will excite us and we don’t do anything else,” says Richie.
“It’s probably our biggest plus and our biggest negative,” he adds. “Niall said it great before: when most bands finish a record it’s the beginning of a process. When we finish a record it’s the end. That can be frustrating for other people. I’m happy with it. It seems to work for us. We have our own little world. We operate in that world and we like it. We’re making better and better music and anything else literally doesn’t bother us. It’s the five of us jamming in Mattie’s shed.”
“There’s no prerogative for success,” says Neil, “no need to be in this market or that market. Every band should operate according to what’s comfortable for them. And if you define success as making good music, which is what I’d define success as, then everything else is secondary and whatever happens, happens. When you say that, people scoff and say that you don’t have any ambition. But making great music is our ambition. The rest doesn’t matter. It’s great to be able to make music with your friends.”