This space used to be a stables; that’s why the floor slopes so dramatically, so the equine urine could flood away. A sensory echo of this past lives on, courtesy of the open drain situated near one of the band’s Apple Macs. Basement Jaxx, fellow imbibers of the Brixton cultural experience, live upstairs. Happily, the four Iraqis who used to mill flour next door have moved on; this is good, because at least Gale Paridjanian, Olly Knights and their recording equipment are no longer covered head to foot in white powder all the time. Everyone knows that excesses of white powder and making music don’t go (ask Oasis or Sly Stone).
Outside, above the high, narrow windows, trains rumble past constantly. Commuter trains and freight trains. Mysterious, concrete-clad wagons that go by in the dead of night, covert operations to whisk nuclear waste through the sleeping city. At least that’s how it feels when your 5am attempt to record some acoustic guitar is suddenly disturbed… Rumble, creak, whine, whistle, chug-a-chug…
How, then, in such an un-preposessing setting have Turin Brakes managed to make a record as expansive, imaginative and horizon-scraping as JackInABox? By being happy to be home. By reminding themselves of the two-guys-with-guitars vibe that sparked the magic before. By doing it all themselves.
It’s New Year’s Eve 2003. We’re in Tasmania. Before 2004 shows up, Turin Brakes have to play to the masses of the island’s Falls Festival. It’s a beautiful setting, an appreciative crowd, a big night… but jeez, Knights and Gale are tired. What are their songs about? What do Turin Brakes mean? Are we still having fun? Is it all worth it, did you spill my pint, and when can we go home?
With 500,000+ albums sold around the world, including a US tour with David Gray, Turin Brakes were coming to some conclusions. Knights and Paridjanian had proven that they knew their way round a robust pop melody, could magic-up elegant ballads, could turn their voices to spine-tingling harmonies. But resting on their laurels and making the same record twice, was never an option. They needed to give themselves a chance to take stock.
Since turning their schooldays friendship in South London into a full-time songwriting partnership, they have barely stopped. Their first batch of songs had quickly resulted in a seven-inch single released in the UK entitled The Door EP in 1999. By early 2000, they quickly got down to the recording of a series of singles, EPs and The Optimist LP (released in May 2001). Things went even more bananas when the inner-city folk music of The Optimist LP was nominated for that year’s UK Mercury Music Prize.
Then, as soon as they had finished promoting that self-produced album, they began work on Ether Song. Turin Brakes headed to Los Angeles to work with producer Tony Hoffer (Beck, Air). It was great fun, and an ear-opening experience. They realized that in their songs, “subtle things get warped when too many people are involved,” says Knights. “We know that when we make music in more of an isolated way, it sounds like it’s bigger than sum of its parts. We decided, for the next album, let’s take everything away. Let’s get a 24 track studio and some instruments and mics in a room in London and see what happens…”
Turin Brakes found and kitted out their studio – a dream since they had first started the band – last spring. They purchased a 100-year-old American harmonium pump organ found in the local thrift shop. Then they put the kettle on.
Without a clock ticking or bills mounting, Turin Brakes allowed themselves as long as it took to make their third album. The first songs to be written were the album’s California-dreaming opener “They Can’t Buy The Sunshine” and the Simon & Garfunkel elegant simplicity of “Forever.” Recalls Knights: ‘I did most of ‘…Sunshine’ in my cellar. [TB drummer] Rob Allum brought a drumkit round for my girlfriend ‘cause she wanted to play drums, and he put it in my cellar. And I was knocking around a bunch of demos to give to Gale, and ‘cause they were there, I had a bash on them. I did an eight-track demo with me on drums – it was pretty shoddy. Then we built on top of that, put guitars and bass on that.”
Continues Paridjanian “We had a meeting with the label and we went in with those two demos. We thought they’d say, ‘it’s good but can you go to Texas or Nashville and do them properly?’ But they actually said they loved it. ‘Don’t change it, it’s finished, it’s perfect… And those drums are the best drums you’ve ever had.’ That was kinda funny.”
“That was good ‘cause it demonstrated something we’d thought about for a while – it’s about the vision and the idea, not so much the technical ability of it all.” Adds Knights.
Suitably emoboldened, Turin Brakes cracked on. They christened their new studio with the recording of “Fishing For A Dream.” This is the first single from JackInABox. If you listen carefully, you can sense the smell of new paint, the creak of fresh hinges, the sight of two musician-craftsmen feeling out their new environment. Getting comfy and forgetting about the world outside. If he’s honest, Knights thinks they sound “a little bit uncertain about what we’re doing, sonically” on “Fishing For A Dream.” And next to, say, the full-blooded, pounding “Red Moon” – the last track they did and one whose swinging rhythm was influenced by OutKast’s “Hey Ya!” – it is. But that delicacy is what makes it such a great comeback single.
Other songs benefited from the relaxed environment of the band’s little rock’n’soul Brixton atelier. “Last Clown,” a meditative bar-room ballad, is an old song that they couldn’t get right when they tried it during the Ether Song sessions in LA. They dusted it off, and gave it one last go in The TB Inc, vowing to nail it or kill it. They nailed it, and the relaxed groove, curlicues of guitar and easy keyboards combine to create one of the band’s finest moments.
“Come and Go” is what Knights’ reckons it’s “bossa nova for the 21st century,” but he may just have thought that sounded a bit hip. “Road To Nowhere,” features the gentle sound of Paridjanian working his fancy new-old harmonium. “Buildings Wrap Around Me” is country and western ideas applied to a hymn of London, specifically the night-time city, that has shaped and nurtured Turin Brakes.
Which brings us to the title. JackInABox – why? “The track ‘JackInABox’ feels like a new place for us. Says Paridjanian. “The whole record is simple and direct and up for it. Not morose. Much more about getting on with life. Being alive right now. That track sums that up. And literally, a jack-in-a-box is a box of tricks, this thing you open that’s alive and exciting.”
Turin Brakes drummer Rob says that when he listens to JackInABox with his eyes shut, he imagines the band recording it while enjoying an enormous panoramic view of the Pacific… “And then he comes down here and we’re sitting in this dusty, weird underground bunker with a smelly drain!” laughs Paridjanian. “You need the open drain to imagine another place. As Olly said, it’s bigger than the sum of its parts.”
“All you need is ears and ideas,’ nods Olly Knights. ‘The rest is just distraction.” |
