THE CARTOON MUSE

It s noon on a Wednesday, and I m twiddling my thumbs in the bar at Blooms Hotel. I m supposed to be interviewing Bentley Rhythm Ace, a daft beat sampler duo from Birmingham who were supporting the Charlatans at the Olympia last night. Thus far there s no sign of them, and the PR person from EMI is looking alarmed.
Eventually Richard March turns up, rumpled and wearing a wounded expression. After the gig we went to a bar called Bruxelles and got drunk, he explains softly. I can t remember going to bed at all, and when I woke up this morning I saw a glass of orange juice on the table beside the bed, said Oh great and took a big swallow, and it turned out to be full of vodka. So that was a bad start, and then I put on my trousers and the bottom had gone out of them. Oh dear.
His partner, Mike Stokes, fails to make an appearance That s two interviews he owes me now, Richard murmurs with a gentle smile. It s no surprise that exhaustion has set in; the band had just flown back from the States the day before the Olympia gig, and the pace has been similarly chaotic ever since last May, when their eponymous debut album came out on Skint Records and was promptly snapped up by Parlophone.
Just a couple of years ago, however, Richard was working as a bartender and recovering from the demise of his former band Pop Will Eat Itself, while Mike was an unemployed tarmaccer: He lost his job when he bought a house, which wasn t too much fun at the time. It was the same week he moved into his house with his new little baby.
Richard lived nearby we knew each other from meeting in the Safeway with our shopping and the two used to go out boozing, then back to Richard s place for a beer and a smoke. I had all this studio stuff in my house, and one night Mike goes What s all this, let s switch these on! Soon they were combing Sunday morning car boot sales for dodgy vinyl; at one such sale they came across a vintage drum machine called the Bentley Rhythm Ace, which they purchased for two quid.
Their first single, Bentley s Gonna Sort You Out , was recorded in Richard s home studio. At the time, we didn t really think about sending it off to any record labels, he says, but some friends of ours in Birmingham who were DJs heard it and said You should try and get this put out. This one guy sent us a list of labels, and Skint Records was the first label on the list. We sent one tape off, and they gave us a deal. It sounds like a fairy tale, but it s true.
Skint were doing a night at the Heavenly Social Club, so we went down with a couple of carrier bags of old records, and the owners asked us if we wanted to play there every fortnight. We were both on the dole at the time, so when somebody asks do you want to go out in London every other Saturday and get paid #250 for it Eh, let me just have a think about that for a moment . . . It was good fun.
The group s music combines hardcore techno breakbeats with quirky samples of everything from funky Caribbean jazz to spooky organ sounds to barking seals, trumpeting elephants, sirens, revving motors, snores, handclaps, and dialogue from 1950s educational programmes. It is music that most definitely does not take itself too seriously.
Richard describes their live shows as a bit of cabaret, more than anything ; their stage set includes a car made of polystyrene it s got a windscreen with wipers and they go in for bizarre costumes. Lately they ve been in a retro mood, wearing Hawaiian shirts, beige polyester flares and a selection of 1970s-era wigs.
Right now, though, the priority is getting home to spend time with their families. Richard s daughter is eight years old a couple of her little friends are mad into the Spice Girls, but she goes, I think they re stupid, daddy ! She spotted the backlash twelve months ago and Mike s son is two. It s probably where the childish element of our music comes from, Richard muses, being in a house that s got the Cartoon Network on constantly. Long may it continue. n