http://www.thevine.com.au/music/article ... rview.aspx
In a decade dominated by rock reunions, England’s Echo and the Bunnymen have soldiered on with nothing less than a second lease on life. After the 1988 departure of solo-bound singer Ian McCulloch capped the band’s initial 10-year turn, guitarist Will Sergeant and bassist Les Pattinson continued for one more album before dissolving in 1993. McCulloch and Sergeant reestablished their partnership in the short-lived act Electrafixion, paving the way for the Bunnymen’s return in 1997 with the Top 10 UK single ‘Nothing Lasts For Ever’. McCulloch and Sergeant have since steered the band through revolving lineups and five more albums, including this year’s The Fountain.
Garnering repeated chart success over the years, the first incarnation of Echo and the Bunnymen were also massively influential, and not just on the best of Britpop. Their eerie 1984 single ‘The Killing Moon’ has been covered by Pavement and Something For Kate and featured in Donnie Darko, while ‘Bring On The Dancing Horses’ was penned for Pretty In Pink and the band’s version of the Doors’ ‘People Are Strange’ was used in The Lost Boys. The Bunnymen’s first four albums – Crocodiles, Heaven Up Here, Porcupine, and Ocean Rain – are still spoke of in hushed tones, and yet the second incarnation has yielded strong reviews and a fan base more solid than ever, thanks to constant touring. At the core all along has been Sergeant’s reeling guitar work and McCulloch’s calm, room-filling voice.
Coming to Australia with the band for the Laneway Festival, Ian McCulloch gave The Vine a hilarious, offbeat, and wildly unique interview. In just 10 minutes he managed to liken the Bunnymen to Michelangelo, espouse ABBA over Led Zeppelin, dub Sergeant “the most lyrical guitar player in probably the history of time,” and announce that he is leading “the best band treading the boards.” It was, in other words, an absolute honor.
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Did the band tour Australia much in its first incarnation?
We did it in ’81, and we didn’t go back [for 20 years]. Not for any reason, but some of us didn’t want to tour any more than six weeks in one go. Then we all went back in 2001. In ’81 I thought the flies were far too big and far too good at landing on me salads. And in 2001 I loved it, because I think we had more time. I just saw it differently. And Will said to me, “Mac, why didn’t we emigrate here years ago?” He loved it as well. I like the space, the space and the pace. I wish it was nearer to Britain.
What sort of expectations were there for a rock quartet starting in Liverpool, given the shadow of the Beatles?
By the time I was aware of the importance of the Beatles to not only Liverpool but to everywhere else as well, I was into David Bowie and football. The Beatles’ shadow had long since gone. The Beatles’ songs are great. George Harrison was the best of ’em, I think. He was the kind of person that didn’t let himself down. But the music didn’t send me into outer space, which is what I liked about the Velvet Underground. Not even outer space, but somewhere a bit more mysterious than Yoko Ono’s knickers. But there was no shadow. For me, Liverpool was about the football team and the working class.
How long did it take to perfect that combination of cascading guitars, an emphasis on rhythm, and you singing in that swooning…
I like the way you said the singing bit last, like it’s the least important.
(Laughs) I was building up to it.
It was just the chance meeting of me and Will, and the stuff that he liked and I didn’t. He liked Led Zeppelin and I didn’t. I liked ABBA and he didn’t. And history’s proved that ABBA are a million times better than Led Zeppelin. But we liked Bowie and the Velvets and the Doors. It was weird. It shouldn’t have worked, maybe, but we have this chemistry thing, like Liz Taylor and Richard Burton. I’d be Liz Taylor and he’d be Richard Burton, and sometimes he’d let me wear Richard Burton’s trousers. We just sounded different, and there were different influences. He loved Television and that spindly guitar thing, and I loved Bowie. David Bowie had star quality. So did the Velvet Underground, and the Doors as well. And those two bands in particular had space as the fifth member. But Will just happens to be the best, most lyrical guitar player in probably the history of time, with [Bowie guitarist] Mick Ronson. They’re the two for me. No one can do what Will does. What he does on “The Killing Moon,” no one can get anywhere near him. And that’s just one song.
The Fountain is more straightforward than your past albums. Is it ever a matter of striking a balance between accessibility and experimentation?
Yeah. Writing the lyrics, I’m not traditional, because I hate folk music and Irish fiddle-dee-dee shit, but I like songs where I can work out where the verse is and the chorus. Like the way Bowie wrote songs, though he also wrote things that didn’t adhere to that. The next album I want to be more, not free-form because I hate that, but a bit more like [1981’s] Heaven Up There, where I had the patience to let the songs be assembled in a different way. I don’t want it to be a Will Sergeant album, but I want him to express himself. And I do try to get him to do that. With The Fountain, I had songs that I wanted to sing with a bit of nonchalance. Because I felt that something had to be said as the Bunnymen after [2005’s] Siberia, because [for] that I didn’t want to say what I really feel. But with The Fountain, I felt fantastic.
Are you going right back to another Bunnymen album after this or pursuing another solo record?
Bunnymen. Any spare time we’ve got in the new year, I want to get into a rehearsal room. Because the band that we’ve got now is fantastic, and I want them to contribute and do their thing. That’s where I hear the next album.
And is touring sort of an engine for that?
Yeah, because at the moment we are again the best band treading the boards. It’s unbelievable. It’s thrilling me more than in 1981. People tend to go, “Oh yeah, that was when the Bunnymen were best.” But we didn’t have the songs that we have now. We didn’t have “Nothing Lasts Forever,” “The Killing Moon,” “Ocean Rain” … they weren’t written in 1981. We had two albums worth of stuff that we could play, and it wasn’t the greatest Bunnymen there is. Now is. I can’t wait for the next album, where we just go, “All of you bands who think you can rip us off…” Because they haven’t got the wit or the intellect.
That’s a great position to be in, to feel that you’re doing the best work of your career.
I feel like an artist. I’m the Rembrandt of rock. I don’t know what age Rembrandt was when he was painting that stuff, but no one really asked. As long as he could hold a brush, the palette and the easel and the canvas took care of themselves. We are Michelangelo, da Vinci, all of them. That’s what I compare Bunnymen to, not shite like the Editors.
(Laughs) Well, thanks for talking to me. I look forward to seeing you at Laneway.
Prepare to be awestruck.