Black Sabbath are one of the only bands in the world that needs no introduction. This particular interview is a 45 minute chat with perhaps the least appreciated founding member of the band. Bill was in Mythology with Tony Iommi before they formed what would be soon be called Black Sabbath with Ozzy Osbourne and Geezer Butler in late ’60s Brum.

Bill brought a jazzy free vibe to the songs that would forever stamp his mark on those incredible ’70s albums. And between them the magical four-piece made unbeatable heavy music that will never be bettered. Bill’s input into these classic songs should not be underestimated. He sat back as the most relaxed member of the group but he penned a few killer tunes and sang well on a couple too.

Tony Iommi has (literally and metaphorically) worn the cross for Black Sabbath the longest – he’s kept the band going pretty much permanently across multiple line up changes and decades. But it is arguably Bill who has quietly held the torch for the original four piece line up the most. After Ozzy left the band in 1979 it seemed that Bill never really recovered or was able to accept different line-ups.

Whether this was the case or not, his drinking became a real problem for him and seriously affected his life on and off from that time to the late ’90s. Bill played on the killer first Dio fronted album Heaven and Hell (although says he doesn’t remember it) to various stints with the ’90s MK1 reformation tours both before and after he had a heart attack.

This interview took place long before the recently announced Sabbath reunion album and tour. Bill was warm, quick and very humble to speak too. It was a pretty emotional conversation for me. (And, as requested I did send him a pack of CDs by some of the best sons of Sabbath).

Black Sabbath have determined the course of my life, so it’s mind-blowing to talk to you. I’m really interested in the early days as a band. Your early work is pretty much all that matters when it comes to metal. Were your early influences blues music?

Bill: The influences were blues. In my case there was jazz. Tony also listened to jazz and one of his favourite guitar players was Django Reinhardt. Geezer and Ozzy liked blues and their tastes didn’t go back as far as Tony’s and mine did. As a child I was bought up on big band and swing. We all liked blues music and we all liked music that was somewhat different and we all liked to play loud. That was something that we were aware of, but playing really loud didn’t come till we’d been together for about a year. Within a couple of months of playing together we were already playing aggressively–that was the key to our passion right there.

That must have been around ’68 then. You were slowly dev-eloping an aggressive sound. Do you remember a certain point where you switched to this incredible dynamic that you found for the first album? Was there a key moment where you switched from a heavy blues band to the incredible sound you laid down on the first album?

Bill: I think the most significant happened when we wrote our first song together. It was at Tony’s house, in Park Lane, Aston. We wrote a song called “Wicked World”. It starts off with a very simple jazz feel, but it quickly goes into a ‘baam baam baaaaam bababababaam.’ As soon as those first notes came out, that was like a flat fifth right there, I think. We are all very attracted to dark notes–flat fifths or notes that are very, very powerful–that are often found in opera and Wagner or Beethoven. I know you’re a musician so you’ll know that the strength of a note can really determine the direction of a song.

The second example and probably the most well-known example was when we were rehearsing in Aston Community Centre and we went there one morning and Tony came up with the riff for “Black Sabbath” and we all fell in line. That was a major, major turning point. When we did that we were asking ourselves what the blazes we’d tapped in to. I know I came away feeling very, very secure in my soul. I knew that I’d tapped into something with the three other guys that was just killer. We were still incredibly poor at that point and down on our luck, but that was a real turning point right there.

That is still the ultimate heavy metal track for me. It’s just mind-blowing, the heaviness and power of it. I always say that to people when they ask me what my favorite track is. No one has come close to the first three or four albums you laid down. You obviously had tapped in to something very special, between the four of you. You were very much ahead of your time and you’re still changing people’s lives today.

Bill: Well thank you very much. I really appreciate your feedback and comments about the band. I agree with you. What that song has become, Marek, is our rallying cry. When everything else has turned to crap and we don’t know who we are anymore–and as time goes on and we lose each other a bit–whenever we play that song we look around at each other and we know that is our solidarity.

It must be an amazing feeling and experience to have that. You recorded that first album in 24 hours or something didn’t you? Do you remember that period? It’s such a perfect album.

Bill: I think we had about three days of studio time, but our circumstances were quite good. The band was very well rehearsed. We were already veterans of touring as that line up. We’d probably been playing together and touring for about two years. We’d been all over Europe, so we were a very tight unit by the time we went in to record that first album. The people around us told us they’d sorted us out making a record. We were used to things turning upside down and disappearing, but this actually came through and we actually did make a record. We went into the studio and did a set up. We put some mics up. We’d never been in a studio as Black Sabbath. I think the credit has to go, not only to the band, but the producers Tom Allen and Rodger Bain who really pulled it together. I think Geezer, in his eloquence, spoke the best of it when he said: ‘We came into the studio, then we walked out of the back door after a couple of days and just went back on the road.’ When I look back on that, and being a producer myself nowadays I just think we were madmen. To go into a studio and try to record this very raw and live stuff. Today that would be construed as a nightmare, but back then it was the real deal. It’s amazing in a production sense and the timing sense and the way we went about it, to come out with that album actually boggles me a bit. I’m still quite amazed.

You did a lot of touring back then. I heard the shows could be quite violent. Is that true?

Bill: The audiences were very rowdy. Only a couple of years before–and I’ll use Cream, who are a great band, as an example–the audiences for them were still very subdued. They were mainly listening and then would stand up and applaud. If you look at a Cream audience back then, there would be a couple of people getting their rocks off, but for the most part there would be a crowd intelligently listening to Cream, and rightly so. But by the time we were performing as Black Sabbath, the audiences were changing. Even the audiences that listened to Jimi Hendrix and major rock groups of the day had begun to change. Even our early audiences were very polite. It felt like playing in our living room. I remember the audiences changing in front of me. I remember that distinctly. The way they wore their clothes became different. We got a lot of leather jackets with studs. People’s hair changed. The whole look was just a sublime move. I think that was from a lot encouragement from us, and of course Ozzy. He wasn’t prepared to go into a room where people sat and applauded at the right place. We played loud and really aggressively. Ozzy refused to go on unless everybody got up. That’s where all the profanity with the audience started too. It was another turning point. I’d never seen another band do it. It was a crossover point. It was where the fire started. People got up and danced in such a restricted space. I think that’s why everybody started head banging, because there wasn’t enough room. It was just fucking unbelievable to watch. Everybody just rocked from their torsos upwards. It was nothing to do with the feet. It spread like wildfire all over England and Europe. Everybody was just rocking out, but in a completely different way than they had to Hendrix and Cream and our contemporaries of the day. It was quite the sight to see.

I don’t think anyone can argue that Sabbath were the band. You opened the doors for so many people and nobody can beat those albums you put out. In the ‘80s and ‘90s, metal kind of lost itself a bit, and I’m hoping it’s coming back now. People are looking back and understanding what you guys were all about. Did you feel that too? It must have been a huge loss when Ozzy left the band and it was a tragedy for metal. I don’t think metal really recovered from it. I’m not totally sure what I’m asking here, but how do you feel about heavy metal generally and the fractioning of the band in the late ‘70s?

Bill: I could understand why Oz was asked to leave, however it’s always been regrettable as far as I’m concerned. But I’m just one person in a four-person band. Behind the scenes and out of the public eye, there have been a lot of conversations and healing going on. There’s been time to make up–make amends and put your best foot forward. I was with Oz last week where he was picking up an award. That shows that we’re still a band, we’re still bandmates and still friends. I’ve tried to maintain friendships with all the guys. Just a couple of weeks ago I was chatting to Geezer and I haven’t spoken to Tony for a little while, but our conversations continue, we’re all still pretty open minded to each other. We’re all doing our own projects, but we’re not cut off from each other in any way. Also the reunion that we started about 10 years ago went very, very well. We’ve toured the world since 1999 as the original band. It was absolutely great. I loved it. I’d always hoped that the band could remain together and if anyone wanted to make their own albums or just take a break for a couple of years then they could, but that didn’t really happen with Black Sabbath. Oz was asked to leave. And what he’s gone on to do is phenomenal. He’s huge in the US and across the world. He’s a huge recording artist as well as the TV show and a couple of movies. He’s done incredibly well. All of us have done really well. We’re all really involved in music still. In fact that’s why I’m a bit groggy today. I was in the studio until really late last night finishing some mixes of some stuff I’m going to put out. Did I actually answer your question there?

Yeah, you did. Everything happens for a reason, and you’ve got those eight albums, which for some people are like a religious experience to listen to. Maybe you wouldn’t have surpassed them if Ozzy had stayed. Were you aware of any bands in the ‘80s and ‘90s that were following the concepts that you had in the early days? People like Saint Vitus and Trouble or Sleep?

Bill: In the ‘80s and for part of the ‘90s were really, really tough on me. That’s when my recovery from alcohol and drug addiction started. So for the most part I wasn’t really aware of any of the UK bands then. My nephew used to let me know which bands to look out for. I didn’t make any trips to England for a long time. It took me a few years to work out what was going on with me, and what it actually meant to be an addict. For me the lifesaver came in the form of Ozzy’s records. There was also a couple of songs that Tony did that I really liked. The saving grace for me was Metallica. I knew them from the beginning. Metallica for me was the life-saving force that came in and rescued all the bands that were flailing at the time. When I heard The Black Album (1991), I sat down and I played it and played it and played it. It was like listening to Sgt. Pepper’s (1967), which forever changed my life. I thought, ‘My god. Now we’re into something solid.’ Metallica really hit the spot with me. My biggest break into today came when I started listening to the gothic bands, and some grunge and bands that were a little bit rough around the edges. Today I think we’re in the most marvellous place with heavy metal. I’m just immersed in the amazement of the progress that has been made. Some of the guys and I had a bit of a tough time with the new bands, but there’s a lot of us older musicians who really love the new bands–it’s a bit like watching the grandkids. I hope I don’t sound big-headed, but I can tell what tree they originally came from. I actually get that same religious feeling you mentioned earlier when I hear some of these new bands. They’re doing amazing things. It takes me back to where we were in 1966.

I’d agree that Metallica definitely picked up your baton in 1983 and they and Black Sabbath are easily the best metal bands ever for me. It feels to me there are lots of good new bands who understand what you were about back in the ‘70s, and I think that the next decade is going to be really exciting for metal. I guess Geezer wrote a lot of your lyrics, but you had this power and intensity. Where did you pick that up from?

Bill: Part of it came from our predecessors. There were great bands in the ‘60s. A lot of bands were referencing flower power and peace. I want to make it clear that I’m not being negative about that whole movement, but we were from Aston and there wasn’t much of a hippie era going on there. At least 50 percent of our day was spent looking at the guy across the street to see if he was going to run over and kick you in the head. That was our reality. It was not someone running across the street to give us a flower. I think there was a lot of valuable things in the hippie–or counter-culture. But some of the ideals fell short. It was a great time in the ‘60s.

I guess things also got a bit darker in the ‘70s. You were just reflecting what was going on then.

Bill: Well, you’re right. That was a large part of it. When we went to play in Berlin in 1969, there was a wall up. That was a reality. The Russian forces in and around Berlin outnumbered the Allied forces 35 to one, with tanks. The Iron Curtain was a two-hour flight from London. We were reflecting on our times in Aston, and Aston back then was dog rough. We were talking about our reality.

There still is a sense of counter culture in there though– “Sweet Leaf” and “Children Of The Grave” and other anti-war songs.

Bill: Well, we were pissed off, you know? “Sweet Leaf” is a very aggressive song when we do it live. “Sweet Leaf” and “Iron Man” were the rallying points for all the young men coming back from Vietnam. And when I think about it– to be quite honest with you, Marek–I start to cry because life is precious and I can still see the audiences when we played those songs. All the vets were up the front, so all we could see were the vets. When those songs came on, they were trying to get out of their wheelchairs. They came to hear those songs. We’d give them our all. They were men that didn’t want to go to war. They were pushed into it and nobody thanked them when they came back.

Do you have any advice for any bands that are just starting out?

Bill: The first thing that any musician needs to have is self-honesty. That will take over when the musician is in 15 feet of snow in the middle of an ice storm in upstate New York and really wants to go home and have some of mum’s soup. You have to be honest about the music that you’re representing, because if you’re not, the music won’t hold you, the fame won’t hold you, whatever you want out of the fame won’t hold you safe in that upheaval. The storm could represent anything–being sick on the road or whatever. If you’ve got the passion for yourself and your bandmates then you may last the course.

Thanks so much for this interview. It’s been fantastic for me to talk to you. And thank you for the music that you’ve created. It’s still having a huge impact on generation after generation. Have a fantastic weekend. Thanks so much, Bill.

Bill: Before you go, I’ve really enjoyed talking with you. I hope I get to meet you. I’d really love for you to send me some CDs of your band. I would love to hear where you’re coming from, especially after hearing who your influences are for God’s sake! I’d love to hear what you’re doing. Please stay in touch. Give me a call whenever you like. We can connect up. Take care of yourself and stay strong. You mean a lot. You guys out there mean an awful lot.

Let’s start with the easy stuff. The name of the new album, Love 2, intrigues me. Why’d you call it that?

Nico: Hmm, “How To Intrigue People”. That’s a good name. It’s a new beginning for us. With Pocket Symphony (2007), we were reaching the end of one path, you know? We needed to regenerate ourselves.

What do you think that path was?

Nico: It was, like, calm, Zen music, very spacey, floating. I think we had explored everything we could’ve in that direction and it was time for us to take a new direction. On this album there is no slow song, so we did stuff like that. We built a new studio, a new space. We found a new way of working. We worked with a drummer in the studio. We didn’t use strings or an orchestra – we did everything by ourselves. We didn’t take on any producer. It was like starting a new love affair. Everything is starting again.

Wait, so you built a new studio to foster this freshness then?

Nico: Yes, the freshness. It’s exactly like when you start a new story with a new girlfriend. It’s the same spirit.

Tell us a bit more about this studio.

Nico: It took us one year while we were on and off tour. We bought a warehouse in Paris and we asked an architect to build a studio inside and put all our equipment and gear in it. It’s completely soundproofed so we can play drums at four in the morning and it’s completely fine.

Yeah, you won’t be waking up any neighbors.

Nico: Exactly. It was the right environment for us. We picked out the colors of the walls and stuff like that. A good creative space. It’s like a Star Wars ship.

I noticed that a lot of the songs – not all of them, but a lot – seem noticeably faster than, really, anything you’ve done before.

Nico: Sure.

And many of your albums are also quite diverse in terms of genre and style, like 10,000 Hz Legend (2001). But in this one, you play around with some things that sound totally new. There are a few kraut-leaning tunes. Were you deliberately trying to incorporate different genres?

J.B.: No, I think we were trained to follow where a song takes us. When we start a song, we know its sound will be revealed and we just try to follow its direction. We wanted this album to be very big-sounding, even though, in our studio, we only have keyboards and guitar and bass and drums. There is a way to make something sound really, really big. Also, yeah, there’s maybe a little bit of a Brazilian vibe on some tracks.

The last song, too—

Nico: “African Velvet.”

Yeah, that one has a really unique sense of rhythm as well.

Nico: Yeah, like maybe a little Afro-beat.

You mentioned your keyboards and equipment and reminded me of how I always find it sort of strange that most people describe you as being “retro” or “retro-futuristic,” something indebted to the ’60s and ’70s, with a strong nostalgia incorporated as well. But I see you as being a very modern band, despite the fact that you use a lot of old instruments.

Nico: Yeah, we don’t try to create music that could’ve been made in the ’60s or ’70s. And when we use retro sounds, often they’re in songs that don’t fit the era they’re from. We don’t want it to seem as though our album could’ve been recorded 30 years ago. We want it to sound like it could’ve just been recorded now. But also, as children, we were fed by the music of the late ’70s and early ’80s. That was the stuff we heard first, so that’s always there and we always look back on that. The music that was on TV, you know? It’s very okay for us.

There’s actually one song on the album in particular that sounds really poppy, though – ”Sing Sang Sung” – in a different way than usual for you guys. It’s one of the most carefree songs I’ve ever heard from you.

J.B.: We like just as much the artistic as we do the mainstream, like the Carpenters. You know what I mean? We don’t have levels for the music we like. We have the same pleasure to listen to some super underground extreme hard rock band as we do to listen to mainstream. In “Sing Sang Sung”, I like that pop vibe – it brings back good memories for me.

Nico: I don’t put things in, uh… ‘le rang’.

Like a hierarchy?

Nico: Yeah, like a hierarchy maybe.

There seem to be so many dichotomies that embody you as a band.

Nico: But I don’t want the album to sound like that because it’s not only that.

Well, it seems like you have a lot of dichotomies to you. You do all these pop songs and then you also do these very artistically-driven, highbrow works, like doing the music for Yi Zhou’s short film, Hear, Earth, Heart. It’s a wonderful film, but it doesn’t really fit with a song like “Sing Sang Sung”.

Nico: [Laughs] That’s funny. It’s true, it’s true. I never thought of that.

Then, on another level, you record things with so many electronics, but you do so to make organic-sounding music. Also, so many of your songs are sad or melancholic, but then there are so many that are sexual or erotic. Those two things seem to be in conflict.

J.B.: We are optimistic melancholics. It’s a very small category of people. We are obsessed by beauty and women, so there are songs we write for love, for women, and this is the romantic Air. We write about love, about extreme feelings, and these things can be very dark too. This is why people like us. We give them empathy. I think that monogamy is the most shared feeling on Earth.

One of the big changes I noticed from your pre-Talkie Walkie (2004) days and after this is how you play with rhythms. Especially with the last two or three albums, you’ve played around a lot with syncopation and how melodies, rhythms, and bass lines overlap to form new sounds and experiences.

Nico: We like to play. We think of music as a sort of playground where you can do things like that. After 10,000 Hz when we really started playing live–to reproduce things like this was very difficult. Like with the break from “Mike Mills”. It’s just a nightmare. It’s in 4/4, but the cycle of the piano only returns every seven bars, so at the end, it’s easy to get stuck. We love Philip Glass and Steve Reich in terms of that kind of stuff. And, you know, other bands do things like this sometimes, but for them, they’re in, like, a hard rock stadium, like Radiohead’s “Pyramid Song” or something. It’s a way for bands to surprise themselves in some ways. We love these tricks. In literature, we love the way people play with words. In French it’s called ‘ouvroir de littérature potentielle.’ We like to find tricks within language or music, discovering ways to twist these things. We should do it more often. When we do it, I really like the result, but now, it just sort of happens.

It’s got to be very hard to replicate. “Mike Mills” is interesting, too, in that I assume you wrote it for Mike Mills.

Nico: It depends. Which Mike Mills are you talking about? Because there’s the guy from R.E.M. and then there’s also the graphic designer.

Yeah, the designer. He’s such a great guy!

Nico: We started working on his film Thumbsucker, and “Mike Mills” was the working title of the song. Finally, the guy who made the music came and we [were left with the song]. We kept the title.

He did the Moon Safari (1998) cover, right?

Nico: Yeah, the cover, all the videos, he’s amazing. We love him so much. He’s very Francophiled, so he’s very easy for us to work with. With him, we have access to a lot of good, positive things about American culture–it’s a good exchange.

You seem to work a lot with people outside of music, or at least your music. Deliberately. You’ve done collaborations with Beck and Jarvis Cocker and Mike Mills and Xavier Veilhan for Pocket Symphony.

Nico: Yeah, we love to work with interesting artists. The artwork is a way to continue the creative stuff because when you finish your studio work, you don’t create anything else. But with the artwork, you can have access to people who are not in music so you don’t lose contact with the creative world. Like, the album comes out and then it’s sort of sad, so I like to work with different artists to keep me excited.

Back to instruments and all. I’m always interested by your keyboard work. I read somewhere that you’re big fans of Ryuichi Sakamoto. What draws you to him?

Nico: He’s a cool guy. He stands on a thin line of good taste. If he moves a little bit, it’s cheesy, but if he stays on it it’s so beautiful. I like this sort of work. It’s so innocent. When you make your own work and it is innocent, it can be a little cheesy or something. You can see his work as being very beautiful or of pure innocence, or as being something on the edge. He is always on the edge, but he’s very pure. Like the melodies of Kraftwerk. They’re very childish sometimes, but it’s fucking Kraftwerk. They’re geniuses. It depends on the way you look at things. We just always want to be on the edge. If you stay on the edge, it’s a very good place to be because nobody can copy you. You can use the same tools, but you can do something very horrible. Being on the edge gives you more space.

You seem really intrigued by Japan. Like, now you play the koto and the shamisen.

Nico: For some reason, we feel close, attracted to Japan and Japanese environments. Japanese food, Zen, these are things that are very appealing to us. I like the way they do things, the perfection in every move you make. They do things for themselves, just to feel good. They have a lot of self-respect. Most artists, they want to be admired by so many people. In the Japanese culture, though, you look for reasons to be proud of yourself. Ninety-nine percent of artists like to show off.

J.B., you did a solo project. both of you have worked on soundtracks on and off since The Virgin Suicides (2000); and you also have done production work, like with Charlotte Gainsbourg’s 5:55 (2006). What do those things accomplish for you outside of Air?

J.B.: It depends. You discover different things about yourself and you can use techniques that you hadn’t in the past. It’s very interesting, an experience. With the Air stuff, we had so often worked with someone else, like a producer or a singer or whatever, and I wondered what it’d be like [to do that], except minus one. It was very good for me.

Do you ever get tired of the process that today’s music industry forces you into? EPs, LPs, touring, marketing, licensing…

Nico: I think we do music for ourselves first so we don’t have to be a part of that whole process. Also, making a CD is a way to get things out of you, but music is a way for you to go inside yourself. You make music to learn things and not only to produce things. Like, I make and listen to music every day, like classical music, just to feel myself and learn. I don’t want to spend my life producing stuff. Music means
looking in and out. Everybody can make music with MySpace and all, so an artist today should be able to make less and less music because so many people are making it right now.

The last time time I was in Paris I saw so many posters for the film Cyprien which you scored, J.B. It’s another example of you guys doing Air and then pursuing something that’s pretty mainstream. Assuming you do all of this “mainstream” stuff willingly, what’s alluring about it to you? What does scoring something like Cyprien facilitate for you that Air doesn’t?

J.B.: With a movie soundtrack, you write songs because you have to find the ones that carry emotion that fits. With comedy, it’s harder! With a movie soundtrack, you move so far away from pop music that you really need to learn how to do it, how to take it. You need to have an idea that’s outside of what you normally do. Like playing a role in the theater. It’s really weird and it’s a big challenge.

Today, so many bands make money by getting their songs licensed for films. I like how you guys always make music for films, the way soundtracks ought to be, I think.

Nico: We’re really keen on that. Nowadays, soundtracks consist of just licensed stuff. We’re very nostalgic of soundtracks that aren’t like that. We’re actually going to work on a soundtrack in October, and we’re going to do everything from the beginning to the end. That’s how we like to do things. More and more, soundtracks are just the business of a music supervisor and not a composer.

You’re doing another feature-length film score then?

Nico: The original thing is a book, a manga from a guy named [Jiro] Taniguchi called Distant Neighborhood. It’s an adult manga. They transposed the action to France in the ’60s and are making it with real actors. So we’re making the soundtrack for that. Taniguchi is a big star in France and Distant Neighborhood is a beautiful story.

Washed Out is a one-man band. Named Ernest Greene at birth, he makes music in his bedroom in Perry, GA. A few of the right people stumbled across Ernest’s tunes and Myspace profile and posted some downloads and reviews. Soon thereafter, Washed Out quickly became a mini-Internet phenom, causing global chatter on the blogs and amongst music fans.

I initially heard a rumor that Washed Out was actually a suburban house dad and that all the photos on the Myspace and blog were of said dad’s teenage kid and his friends. Not believing the hype and excited to see how this all panned out live, I was compelled to check Washed Out’s first-ever NYC show at Santos’ Party House in early October this year.

I loved the visuals and the ambiance of the live show and totally enjoyed the tunes, but it’s definitely early days on the performing front. Ernest, for the record, is not a suburban dad. He’s a 20-something cute preppy young Southerner. During the gig, he nervously tried hyping up the crowd between songs with rough-around-the-edges banter–all part of the charm, I think.

I caught up with Ernest on the fly to take some photos for the interview the day of the NYC gig and just days after his honeymoon.

We love your music-it’s so beautiful!

Thanks a lot!

So what’s the deal with you being a 40-year-old suburban dad?

[Laughing] Sometimes I feel 40, especially when I’m out shopping at places like IKEA.

You just got married. That’s awesome. How was it?

It was really fun. We had over 400 people at the reception under this huge tent in my wife’s backyard, a Motown band and open bar, so everyone had a good time.

What does being in love mean to you?

Nothing really abstract. I think of it as the ‘golden rule’ with sex attached. Simply put, just caring about someone enough to put his or her well-being in front of your own.

What do you think about people who say they are scared of commitment?

I would guess the biggest fear there would be a lifestyle change, which is probably in order for a serious relationship, but I don’t believe it has to be that drastic. I would say that those people just haven’t met the right person, but I think it’s a little more complex than that.
I think it takes the right combination of meeting THE person and also being at a point personally and emotionally where a relationship is desirable.

How do you feel about life now that you’re married? When I got married I kind of felt like, ‘Right. Check. That’s done. Now I’m ready to conquer the world.’

I’ve only been married about 10 days, and five of those were spent vacationing in Mexico, but I’ve probably done more everyday life stuff like dealing with banks and shopping in the past few days then I have in the last year. I guess I’m becoming a proper adult. Before, my days were spent daydreaming and wandering around, so I’m looking forward to more of that.

You’re from Perry, GA. When I tell people I’m from Jacksonville, they’re like, ‘Huh?’ And they don’t really know what to say. Or, if they do think they know Jacksonville, they’re like, ‘Sorry.’ But actually it was quite an amazing place to grow up. I lived at the beach. We had the Milk Bar downtown and we had Einstein’s a Go-Go at the beach. We ended up getting a lot of decent shows and I was exposed to a cool little scene of kids who were into indie music. What’s Perry like? Is there a scene at all?

No scene in Perry, and I understand exactly what you are talking about with Jacksonville. Around the time that I moved away for college, I really resented the fact that I had been stuck growing up in a small town. But returning back earlier this summer after eight years-I moved back to Perry to record Life of Leisure (2009)-I started to realize what a beautiful place it was and how great a place it is for a kid to grow up. To me, it’s all about valuing the good things about a place and being less concerned with how it compares to this or that other place, or this or that other lifestyle. What Perry loses in culture or a live music scene, it gains in seclusion and nature. Look at William Eggleston’s photographs if you want a glimpse of the culture in Perry. Not much has changed here since Guide.

I was at your first NYC show. Had you done shows before? If so, where and how were they?

I had done one other show in Atlanta the week before. Playing live is definitely a completely different beast than recording music. I’ve been recording music by myself in my bedroom for years, and I feel very confident in the process but it’s taken years to develop that confidence. I feel like I’m starting over creatively when I approach the live show. The music was never meant to be performed, so it’s a huge challenge from the beginning to translate it to a live setting. Then also factor in my inexperience with entertaining and you can imagine my hesitance towards performing. If given the chance, I’d probably rather not play shows.

How did you think the NYC show went?

All things considered, I think it went okay. I definitely think my inexperience showed. I had a terrible time communicating with the sound guys about the levels on stage, so it was really hard hearing myself. I also was using a few new vocal effects that malfunctioned a bit.

What is your idea of performing live? What are you trying to do compared to your recorded music?

Ideally, I’d like the two to be different but complimentary, but with the NYC show there wasn’t much variation from the recorded versions. It was basically a DJ set of my songs with live vocals.

How will the live show evolve?

I’ll probably either include more people in an effort to better perform the songs, or either expand the set a lot more with transitions and additions. I enjoy DJ-like sets, but I also see the value and energy that accompanies a live band.

Is live necessary or important? Is it enjoyable?

My love is sitting in my room recording music, but at the same time live shows are great for promotion and even better for travelling and seeing the world. I’d love to be as confident about the live show as I am with the records, but that’s probably a long way away.

Besides putting up a Myspace did you do anything to get your music out there?

I was lucky enough that Mexican Summer found me. My friend Chaz (a.k.a. Toro Y Moi) received some great press earlier in the year and through that these guys from No Pain in Pop stumbled across my Myspace profile. At the time I only had one or two songs up, so I quickly recorded a few more and the ball has been rolling since.

Seemed like all of a sudden, a few months ago, I heard about you from a few different people right around the same time.

Gorilla vs. Bear has a huge influence these days so I credit most of the exposure to Chris.

In terms of your output, why did you choose to release music on cassette format?

At the time, I didn’t think the demand would be so great for my tunes, so it was just something different and fun to do. I was really into the idea of designing a sleeve and label, less about the actual music.

Is there a new scene of producers that you feel close to? I’ve noticed a sound that’s common to a bunch of artists like Memory Tapes and Neon Indian.

I like their stuff a lot. I would guess that they both have similar influences that I do. On one hand you have Ariel Pink and most of the lo-fi stuff that Gorilla vs. Bear really pushes. On the other hand, you have ’80s pop and dance music. I do think that we all approach the idea the same way but with different results.

Songwriting seems to be as key to your sound as distinctive production. Which writers are you a fan of or find inspiring?

Pretty much anything on the radio can be a huge inspiration as far as song structure goes. Whether it’s R&B or a country song, I’ll hear an idea for a bridge or whatever. Sonically, my inspiration a lot of the time is naïve or half-remembered recollections on ’80s pop. I don’t own any Men at Work albums or Toto albums, but I have an idea of what they are or how they were made. I think this naïve recollection is a lot better because in most cases it’s a completely different or skewed version upon comparison.

Your music is dreamy and if it had a visual side it might be sepia. Washed Out is almost onomatopeic in that it sounds like that. Are there conscious visual references that you can describe?

I look at photographs and art—as much if not more—as I listen to music, so I can’t deny that that influence seeps into the music. I have as much fun working on the artwork/covers for the albums as I do recording them.

What’s next?

Hopefully more new tunes really soon. I’ve been really looking forward to peace and quiet to work.

Serge and Tom met in their early 20s in Brighton, DJ-ing and raving it up. Both gentlemen went on to have their careers before aligning as Retro/Grade in 2008. Serge spent a few years in Radio Slave, but left to do his own thing in 2005. He quickly became known in his own right for his Italo re-edits (“Atto D’amore” is one of our faves), released as a series of different-colored vinyl. Then of course came the remixes. Tom is by and large known to the world as a house producer, DJ, remixer and sometimes-vocalist with more than 350 tracks credited to his name, the biggest standout being “Just Fuck”.

The inherent freshness and creativity in both the audio and the video output of these two can only mean good things to come. Thankfully Retro/Grade are more than halfway through an album, which is due to be released in 2010.

Where are you guys from in England?

Serge: Originally from Brighton.

Tom: Originally from Portsmouth.

Serge: We first met in Brighton.

What was the Brighton scene like?

Serge: It was amazing. It was such good fun and there was so many crazy people down there. At one point, they ran out of plumbers and gardeners and builders and stuff because there were so many people who were artists and musicians down there. They had to put an ad in the local papers that was like “We need plumbers.” It was unbelievable.

When was that?

Serge: The late-’90s. It went through such a golden period of so many people building sculptures, writing good music and throwing parties.

Tom: There was loads of good outdoor parties in the summer.

Why did the scene change?

Serge: It became popular from being featured in magazines every two minutes. More people flocked there. Bigger, more obvious places got built. It became London-on-sea.

Tom: We were obviously a lot younger then.

Serge: We were all very wet behind the ears.

Tom: We just DJ’ed and threw parties all the time. That’s all we did.

Too bad it’s not really like that anymore. Are any of the places still the same?

Serge: The places are still there, but different names and not as grubby. There’s more rules down there these days. It was much easier to get away with things in the old days. At the old Escape–which is Audio now–I used to go this night called Free Banging Techno. I used to be so skint and on the dole. I’d run in there and steal people’s pints, get pissed on other people’s pints, then leave and have a great time.

You’ve obviously stepped it up a notch since then. Looking at where you are now compared to the Brighton days, have there been any particularly career or personal defining moments?

Tom: What’s been crazy is the fact that now over the last couple of months DJing is that I’ve started to play records that I bought when I played when I first started DJing—

Serge: You’re doing that as well?

Tom: It’s crazy. I must have heard them 80 times now—

Serge: All the old Africanism stuff is the first stuff I bought when I started DJing. It’s mad. We’re so bored of the music now. It’s so linear and boring.

Tom: And people are like ‘This is fucking amazing. What’s this?’ And it’s actually really old, but they don’t realize it because it sounds like new stuff where people have intentionally decided to try to sound retro.

Serge, when you left Radio Slave, was it because you didn’t want to make the harder sounding music anymore?

Serge: When I left Radio Slave, it was purely musical differences. We weren’t doing any hard music. All we were doing was edits of pop music. Matt [Edwards, Radio Slave’s frontman] went techno way past that point. It must have been a good two years before he started writing techno and being good at it. He had much more control over the whole Radio Slave thing than I did. I was very wet behind the ears, very young, didn’t know the music industry at all. I knew that I wanted to be involved with it, but didn’t know where I wanted to go. Matt ended up doing his own thing behind my back. He wound up just going and writing music and not telling me he was doing it. Its funny when you get something sucked away from you like that. It’s that horrible gutted feeling and you’re feeling quite bitter. It took me a long time to get over that.

Tom: It’s amazing though because you were always working with other people up until that point. It made you realize that you wanted to do your own thing. It forced you to go and find what you wanted to do.

Serge: It made me come out of myself and realize, ‘Hey I can do this on my own’ and I became very independent. I suddenly realized I could do it and I did it.

Had you two ever worked together before Retro/Grade?

Serge: Yes.

Tom: Kind of.

Serge: We did an edit together. I was doing lots of Italo edits. I’d always wanted to do a track with Tom because we’d known each other for such a long time.

Is the album going to be full of Italo?

Serge: Because of a lot of remixes I’ve done, people think it’s Italo. It’s like the Africanism sound. It has nothing to do with Italo. People think that because you’ve done Italo before that’s all that you do. Italo has just become a hot word. Still people don’t know what it is. They’ll be listening to Euro pop. People don’t actually know what Italo is.

Tom: It’s like some elements of progressive house. Because it has a melodic synth line people will think its Italo.

Serge: It’s got an arpeggio synth. It must be Italo.

What exactly is Italo then?

Serge: Do you have an hour of your life? [Laughs] Italo is basically the grey area between disco and house music, like Chicago house music. When producers started doing disco beats and the first synthesizers came out, they started putting synthesized sounds on top of disco beats. The point of a changeover when the first drum machines ever came out, people started putting electronic drums over synths and that’s what the Italo scene was. The thing is, they didn’t like Italo in England so they called it New Wave and New Beat, so it never came over here as Italo. It was only like that in Europe. In Canada as well. One of the biggest producers of Italo is Canadian. Junior Sokkia is one of the biggest producers and he’s totally Canadian. And in Germany it was massive as well. It only got called Italo because this collective who loved that type of music at the time put together a thing called the Italo bootlegs. From that point, that name stuck. But before that time, there was no name for it.

When was that?

Tom: Late ’70s, early ’80s.

Serge: ’79 or ’78.

Tom: It was like disco but replacing live elements of what disco did in the ’70s but with synths.

Serge: Disco had become so processed at that point.

Tom: The Italo guys were making beats that were really loose and playing synths over the top.

Serge: The first Italo records were in like 1976, which is early on even in disco. Then ’80s music came around off the back of disco. That’s the really quick version. I could go on for days talking about this [laughs].

[Pointing to the loft in Serge’s bedroom with one desk and a chair] Is that where you work up there?

Tom: I have a studio too.

Serge: We work between the two.

What’s your process?

Serge: [Laughs] I sleep and he does everything.

Tom: I make the tea.

Serge: Tom is the most amazing person at listening to something and replaying it.

Like on the keyboard?

Serge: Yeah. It’s unbelievable. Like really, really quick. I’m really good at trying to find the sounds I want to re-create off of old records. [To Tom] It’s painstaking. You do it in 10 seconds, one-handed and done.

Are you guys going to play shows?

Serge: Big time. It’s a live act, isn’t it?

Tom: We’re not going to DJ.

Serge: The DJing will come a lot later when the live act can’t be possible maybe.

Are you inspired by any new people making music?

Serge: My biggest inspiration when it comes down to it is totally Daft Punk.

Tom: No one really makes music like that.

There’s not that many dance acts who play their electronic music live. Simian Mobile Disco do, but Justice just stand there and push buttons.

Tom: There’s a real dubious line where people will say they are doing a live electronic set, but what they are actually doing is a live DJ laptop set. It’s not live. They’re just playing their records. Some people do live electronic and it’s really live, really on the fly and they are playing instruments. It’s hard to tell sometimes though. It could look like someone is playing live but it’s all just smoke and mirrors.

Tom, you play the keyboard. Do you guys play any other instruments? Do you build your own modular synths?

Serge: No, I don’t build modular synths at all. Thing is, I’m very into the way that music is made, but I’m trying to use new soft synths through the computer but make them sound old. I don’t have a spare two or three thousand quid to go and by a Moog or Korg. For one, my girlfriend wouldn’t have it in the house and two [pointing upstairs] it wouldn’t fit up there in the slightest. [Making the music on my computer] is the only way I can think of to do it. It’s not lazy because it takes a long time to make these synth sounds sound old.

How will you do that live?

Serge: The way the live show is going to start is going to have to be a keyboard, a laptop and a mixing desk, but over time I want it to get bigger and bigger and bigger.

Tom: We’re going to play a lot of the melodies and live and the beats and things will be controlled by Serge. So it will be live in the sense that we are playing parts of the songs live and editing on the fly. We can stop and stretch parts of songs. It will be a communication thing between the two of us.

Serge: Basically the way that the Chemical Brothers do it, the way Daft Punk do it and the way all those massive acts do it, they really get into the body of the track. Its not just what the track sounds like on the record. They’re really playing with the sounds. People get lazy over time and then end up just using a laptop. The more instruments and the more technology we have, it will get bigger and bigger.

It’s recording. You can start your monologue.

(Laughing) Is this the Beatles? Which album is this? The White Album (Apple, 1968)? I found this copy of The White Album that belonged to my dad and inside the record sleeve there was a letter that he had written to his first girlfriend. He was the same age in the letter as I was when I found it. It was so weird. It totally sounded like I wrote it. He made the same shitty jokes and he had the same bad tactics with women.

Who is John Roberts? You can start where you were born.

You really want to know?

You are 26.

Twenty five, I just turned 25. Eight months ago.

Did you have any outlooks on your future?

You mean when I was young? It depends on when you’d ask me.

Did your parents have any expectations of you?

They wanted me to have a good job. That’s all they cared about. For a long time I wanted to be a graphic designer. They were really pushing for that. I started for two years and then I changed to art school: The School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

Did you produce any music at that time?

Yeah, I was messing around with it.

Only people who don’t take it seriously say that they were just ‘messing around.’

I wasn’t taking it seriously back then.

[John gets a little toy keyboard with animal sounds. He’s pushing buttons and speeds up the tempo. Someone in the room says ‘ghetto house.’]

What was your first contact with house music?

I grew up in Cleveland. When I was fifteen I started going to this record store called Grand Pubas.

Was it owned by the Detroit Grand Pubahs?

No, it was owned by a guy called Doug. And they were never really friendly to me. But I would buy these mix tapes from these guys from Chicago. Like DJ Milton, DJ Funk and DJ Deeon. They played this super stripped- down house music with just an 808 bass and them speaking and rapping over the beats.

Did you go to parties where they played that stuff?

I really wanted to. But they would only play that kind of music in Chicago, in the projects. So, basically I never got the opportunity to go there.

You didn’t dare.

No. But then I moved to Chicago and went to some clubs where they would play it. But they mixed it with old classic Chicago house and deep house.

You know, art students in Holland like to play ghetto stuff at parties. They are drunk, and they’re always so ironic about it.

But I think that’s as good as it can get in a way. That’s how they show their appreciation for it. They obviously could never have the authentic experience. For a skinny white guy it’s the closest you can get to showing your appreciation for something like ghetto house.

It seems to me, that you show the same reservation in your productions. You would never try to put a ghetto touch on your tracks or get vulgar.

It’s not so much about getting vulgar in the sense of using a rude vocal, but being vulgar by overstepping my bounds. I know there are a lot of deep house artists nowadays who put vocals over their tracks. Like someone preaching. But I think that’s totally inappropriate.

Why?

Because it has nothing to do with your upbringing. You’ve probably never been to a Baptist church. I mean, you can do it and have a good outcome. But I think that’s a really inauthentic experience that you are creating. So I’d rather take a vocal which relates to something I’ve experienced myself.

One of the tracks you played at the sound check had some sort of hidden vocal. Are you afraid of using vocals in a too obvious way?

Maybe. I’ve always felt that with vocals. Sometimes I put them more in the front, but I kind of like them hidden in the back. Most of the time I chop or strip them down because I want to use them like a percussive element.

Your tracks don’t have those explicit vocals, but the beats are pounding like ghetto house. They really hit you in the face.

My beats are still influenced by Dance Mania records. That’s still what I’m buying.

When I heard your tracks for the first time, the groove appeared to me as a galloping horse. And sometimes I heard an element which sounded like a whip, reining for control.

(Laughing) When I started making music, a friend of mine said it sounded like a galloping horse, but like a horse with a broken leg. A broken horse. I like to have that one lagging element in there. But I haven’t thought about it much lately. I still want to keep some experimental elements in my music, but my goal has never been to alienate people. I never wanted to make experimental music for example. I’m not trying to be like, ‘Oh, I’m so underground and I’m making underground dance music that no one can understand.’ I think working on my album has helped me to find a happy balance.

Besides taking part in club culture, you also have an interest in art. You work in a gallery and you are planning to make some artwork yourself. Do you need that balance?

I think it’s good to have a change of scenery now and then. If I was only involved in club culture, I would be really depressed all the time (laughs). It really wears you down. I need other stimulation and inspiration. Nightlife can be very draining.

How does your interest in art reflect in your music?

I don’t know if it’s clear for anyone else, but when I’m making music I always think about these images I’m collecting. I’m not sure though if these images are getting translated into my music or not. But in the dance music community, I think the artwork of a 12-inch is not important to most people who are buying records anyway.

But your label, Dial, pays much attention to that aspect.

Yeah, but Dial is one of the few labels where people are actually commenting on the artwork, which I think is great.

I’ve seen some of the images you referred to, like the picture of a can of caviar.

A-ha. The Rolls-Royce.

Yeah.

A gate in front of a big mansion.

Right. But also a black balloon, which didn’t make any sense to me at all. Balloons need to be colorful and represent joy.

I’m relating those images to my music. The images are representing something that I want to express. For example, the balloon. It has some kind of elegance and melancholy to it. But it’s also reserved, in a way. That’s how my music should sound.

Can you tell me something about your art?

No, not really.

You don’t want to tell?

I don’t want to talk about it.

Why not? Are you ashamed of it?

I’m not ashamed of it. It’s just that I don’t feel confident about something that is not developed.

But you could talk about development.

(Silence)

Why did you want to create art in the first place?

Because I think that it’s a really nice outlet, besides making music.

Is it photography?

Yeah.

But you don’t want to talk about your art because it’s not developed yet?

Yeah.

So you don’t actually know what to talk about?

I don’t want to. (Pauses) Yeah.

(Laughing) Now you are just saying ‘Yeah’.

(Laughing) I don’t think it’s relevant!

If it’s finished, are you going to show it?

I don’t know. I’m more interested in making a publication, like a book. But I wouldn’t want to do it if it would be something totally separate. I like the idea of my music and my visual art strengthening each other. Making artwork for my records, for example. Both the art and the music are representing the same ideas.

What kind of ideas?

Depression, reservation. But wrapped in some sort of elegance.

I guess. You’re leaving one element out. Your tracks have this erotic element. But it’s hidden, like a secret. The listener can find out about it, but is not allowed to share it.

I think that is pretty self-reflective. (Laughing) I just have a slightly reserved personality.

Is that an act?

No, it’s really me! I always end up being friends with people who have a more outgoing personalities, because it helps me to be more outgoing. If I was friends with people like myself, we would spend a lot of time in silence (laughing). Watching television.

Do you think about the perception of the audience when you are preparing a live set?

I’m forced to. Because when I’m getting booked to play shows I have to play a club set. I cannot go up there and play a slow, galloping 118 bpm experimental set. I mean yeah, it’s going to be you and four other people who will like it. But 500 other people will get alienated. The music I made for the album is individual enough and able to stand on its own. And I know that if it falls into a trend, at least I wasn’t thinking about that when I made it. You can still get your point across but still find a way to be inclusive. I think at this point that’s kind of important to me. I wanted to make the album not only for the people who are buying the 12-inches, but also for the people who are not part of the dance music community.

Are there any beatless tracks on your album?

There was this one track I just couldn’t find the right beat for. And I listened to it in the context of the complete album, but without a beat it just sounded like a total drop off. It took away all the congruity. Because in the end I want to make dance music. I don’t want to take that away.

Do you need the structure of dance music?

I want to have the structure of dance music, because that’s where I am coming from. If I wanted to make something purely melodic, I would end up with a depressing folk album. But that’s not where I’m coming from.

To me it sounds you are using the structure of dance music to take away responsibility. The beat is always there. You didn’t invent it and it won’t go away.

You think I’m using the beat as a defense mechanism?

Yes.

I don’t know, maybe partially. But at the same time, this is the type of music that is important to me. I don’t have any desire to stray from that.

So let’s talk about your art again.

Can I use the bathroom?

But what I did get was one of the best independent pop albums I’ve heard in a long time. The songs aren’t packaged as perfect little pop packets, but are layered and textured into true experiences that yield something new with each listen. The album opener, “Animal”, is the most immediately catchy song on the album, with its bouncing synth jabs and sing-along chorus, but all that head-bopping almost distracts from the fact that you’re singing about someone’s deep social alienation. “Song for No One” sounds like something that should have come out in the late-‘90s and have a video showing the band driving down a highway in a convertible. You could play this album in a dive bar or in Ibiza and the reaction would be the same.

To form Miike Snow, Christian and Pontus teamed up with New York-based singer and multi-instrumentalist Andrew Wyatt, who writes the band’s lyrics and serves as their frontman. Having been in various musical projects his whole life (the A.M. probably being the most well-known) Andrew was the missing link between a great production team and a great band. I’ve seen Miike Snow play twice now, both times at NYC’s Lower East Side venue Mercury Lounge. The second time, when the band took the stage wearing white kabuki-like masks (they always wear some sort of mask while in public), the place erupted, and by the time they launched into “Sylvia” mid-set, a cautionary tale about a lost love, they held the audience in the palm of their hand.

I caught up with Andrew, Pontus and Christian the day after their first Mercury show and chatted about their beginnings in Sweden, their production techniques (or lack thereof), and their choice use their anonymity to “put their music first.”

You guys were all very musical before you met, and of course Christian and Pontus are in Bloodshy & Avant. How did you decide to collaborate on Miike Snow as a project?

Andrew: We have a mutual friend in the music industry who thought we should meet, and that we would hit it off, either to write songs or just to hang out or something, which ended up being the case. I was in the UK at the time, I had never been to Sweden, so I went over there and I met up with Christian and Pontus, but we didn’t really do anything the first time we hung out. We kept in touch, and ended up doing some writing for someone else that didn’t end up anywhere. But the relationship got started up, and we enjoyed each other’s company. They contacted me when they heard my other band, and talked about forming a new band with the three of us.

What was the first song you collaborated on?

Christian: I think the first song was “Black and Blue”.

Pontus: I think we did “Black and Blue” and “Song for No One” the first time.

Andrew: Yeah, those were the ones from the very first time I went over there to write and work on the album. Those are the two from that first trip that actually made it on the album.

It’s funny you say that because those are the most sort of “rock-pop” songs on the album, in my opinion. I normally abhor this question, but what inspired the music you make as Miike Snow? I’m a huge fan of Bloodshy & Avant and when I first heard the record I must admit it’s not exactly what I expected.

Pontus: I think that the whole process has been pretty organic and contained. It’s more or less like, ‘Now we can we can say how it ended up.’ It’s not thought out. It just happened.

Andrew: I think that more than any sort of musical influence that we had, it’s just that what ended up happening on the record was aspects of everyone’s personalities coming out. I just feel like we don’t have a problem with lots of different traditions of music. One of the things about the music that I know about that they’ve done in the past that I was so excited about is that it’s very irreverent to tradition. It’s kind of like there’s something very punk rock about it—or at least something very subversive—that’s pretty courageous. I think that that carried over to the process of making Miike Snow in that we didn’t have any mold for what it was going to be. We just did it. We thought more about the elements at the time. I don’t think we were trying to be one kind of a band or another. We just did whatever happened.

Christian: There are two or three songs that aren’t on the record, but we’re definitely going to use them. I think one of them is going to be like a B-side in Europe or something. Like we said, maybe the first songs sound a little bit different, but it’s kind of cool that we kept everything from the start.

You can really see the progression of the whole collaboration.

Christian: Uh huh.

Christian and Pontus, do you work differently when you produce for yourselves as opposed to producing for someone else as Bloodshy & Avant? Are there differences in your work ethic?

Pontus: I think… (pauses and begins to laugh) work ethic?

You know what I mean (laughs)!

Pontus: That was a very good choice of words!

Andrew: I hadn’t thought about that, but that is a huge difference.

Christian: We have no ethics.

Pontus: When we think back—say we work for like 10 days—we feel like we haven’t done anything. Then we’ll listen back and it will seem like we’ve been really productive. So we don’t really have any work ethics.

Andrew: Or any other kind of ethics (laughs). No moral scruples within the ranks of Miike Snow!

So getting hired to produce is like school, but doing your own band is like Spring Break?

Andrew: Yeah, with Jello shots (laughs).

Good to know.

Pontus: Now, with Miike Snow, we’re creating our world. When you’re hired to do something, you’re supposed to do something that is interesting and stands out, but in someone else’s world. It’s like, we’re kind of building everything from scratch with this.

You recently played at Mercury Lounge, and I was really into it because you did what I was hoping you’d do, which was really take all the different elements of the album and translate them seamlessly for a live experience. How did you guys transgress that?

Pontus: I think we saw it as something separate. The live show is a thing apart. It’s not that same thing [as the record]. We had to build it from the ground up. We decided it was out of the question to have any sort of laptops or backing tracks on stage, so we had to reinvent a lot of stuff, which actually turned out pretty well.

Andrew: It was a good way of getting strong, having to carry all that gear.

I don’t mean to diss anyone, I love electronic music and I like a lot of laptop bands, but I’m getting so tired of going to a show and seeing a band just go (mimes typing on a keyboard) ‘beep boop boop’, and like, that’s it. There are still instruments you can buy and use that will give you the same texture and sound.

Andrew: We really have a problem with it. It’s like going to a party and someone is standing in the same position the whole time. You’re like ‘Hey, this is weird, this guy hasn’t moved this whole time, and this is starting to feel uncomfortable!’ You want someone who can put their hand on you. If you’re into that (laughs). Or use some body language, or something. It’s really about spontaneity, and if you don’t have that capability, it’s really tragic. I couldn’t imagine going through all the things we have to go through, to be on tour and not being home, and getting up super early to catch planes. I mean I’m not complaining at all, but to have the payoff of creating something from scratch every night is the whole point.

Pontus: It wouldn’t feel like we were doing something live if it wasn’t actually live. For all of us, that’s the whole thing. The alternative is kind of pointless. Otherwise we could just show up, put on the record and just—

Andrew: ‘Whoo! Party!’

Pontus (laughing): We had to do it like this.

Andrew: The Mercury show was good. Someone else that we were interviewed by this morning said that some parts weren’t loud enough, or something. We’re getting to the place where we’re all dealing with the multi-tasking. There are so many different things on the record, that to do it live everybody in the band has to multi-task. We’re getting to the place where that stuff is feeling like it’s in our realm to be able to land the plane.

Pontus: Also, there’s one interesting aspect of catching a band on a good day. Some shows are going to be better than others, and you lose that when you use a backing track, or whatever safety nets you have. I think that’s really important.

It’s important to create something from scratch. I recently interviewed a band who use laptops but record everything live with studio software, so I mean, there are still ways to make it interesting, but it can be difficult.

Christian: We’re going to keep on adding and changing the live performance, which is always challenging and fun to do. We’re getting better and better at it. It’s the same thing as when we write songs, we just want to keep on changing it.

I might just be projecting my own life onto your songs but—

Andrew: That’s what you’re supposed to do (laughs)!

Exactly! I feel like there is an underlying theme of urban alienation in your tracks, that sort of darkly intelligent pop thing. Like in “Animal” and “Plastic Jungle”.

Andrew: I think there’s something that has to do with being pissed off with even having to deal with the way shit is. You know, we don’t really get to decide a lot of the way our lives are. We can decide our choices within that, but to some extent you’re born where you’re born, and civilization is the way it is, and I feel like sometimes that doesn’t take into consideration [people’s feelings], and what they have inside. That’s a big struggle for a lot of people. Probably the main struggle is how to fit in all the different desires that you have, and making sure you don’t hurt anyone else along the way, and all the complications, and sometimes it just feels like too much to deal with.

But do people even realize that that’s an issue?

Andrew: Well, sometimes people don’t ask about what they really want.

Are there any songs that touch upon that subject in particular?

Andrew: Well, I think “Animal” is. “Plastic Jungle” is more about my experience with school. Just always having such a hard time in school. I guess there is just something I like about melancholy. I don’t feel like I’m a depressed person, but I like the idea of being depressed (laughs).

Well, there are very few good songs about being happy.

Andrew: “Take on Me” by a-ha is one of the happiest songs ever written.

Tell me about the song “Sylvia”. To me it’s the most dance-inspired track on the album, with all the buildups and breakdowns and stuff. That sounds has had such a big resurgence in the past few years.

Andrew: Actually, the girl that I wrote the song about was at the show on Saturday in Williamsburg.

Was she! What was her reaction?

Andrew: We’re friends now, you know? She got out of all the things I was projecting in the song, like, what was going to happen to her. Like, she was going to do this, and end up doing porn and that it would be my fault. I was filled with all this horrible guilt and I was projecting negatively on that situation. What happened was we broke up, and she got out of all that and is studying design in San Francisco. She’s really talented. It was a happy ending, but you don’t get to hear that in the song.

See, no one likes a happy ending. You should have been like, ‘Man, she died. It was really fucked up.’

Andrew (laughing): Yeah, but it was really intense for her to have that song come out. But I don’t think in a bad way.

[Christian has taken three masks with geisha faces out of a manila envelope for the photoshoot]

Okay, what is up with the masks? At first I thought they were like, bloody surgical masks, but now that I’m looking at them up close it’s like a geisha mouth.

Christian: I think we just wanted to put the music first and not our faces. We saw the masks in a modern art museum in Tokyo. Actually, we got into the masks the first time me and Pontus were traveling in Asia during the SARS outbreak. We were on the beach in Thailand when SARS was at its worst and all the Japanese tourists were wearing masks on the beach with like, their bikinis! Everyone had a suntan like this [makes a square with his fingers around his mouth]. In Japan and Hong Kong, all these brands like Nike, Gucci, started making masks for like a week or something, until [SARS] wasn’t a threat anymore.

It’s nice to use your anonymity sometimes. When you look at a band like Daft Punk, it’s weird to imagine what you would think about their music if you knew what they looked like, and saw them walking around doing stuff.

Christian: I think a lot of bands that we like, we don’t really know what they look like.

Pontus: In some genres it’s so much more about the person than the actual music. It’s good to be pretty clear about that. It’s about the music for us.

I had just received a stream of the Monkeys’ hotly anticipated new album, Humbug (Domino, 2009), which had tracks produced by now-legendary rock hero Josh Homme and Simian Mobile Disco’s James Ford (who also produced Arctic Monkeys’ second LP, Favourite Worst Nightmare (2007), as well as Alex’s recent side project Last Shadow Puppets). While I was expecting the typical uptempo tales of British working-class travails that has become quasi-synonymous with Arctic Monkeys, I was confronted with a bigger, broader picture. A lot of their trademark qualities remained, notably Alex’s instantly recognizable vocals, but a decidedly more mature, even darker sound emerged as I continued listening. It’s clear that as a band, Arctic Monkeys have been doing their homework so to speak: listening, working, writing and growing. It’s amazing in this fast-paced day and age to see anything lasting at all, but with Humbug, the Monkeys have made certain to hold their on in the modern musical pantheon. It was on one of these somber summer afternoons that I met up with Alex Turner and Matt Helders of Arctic Monkeys, in a quiet booth at the La Bottega restaurant at Chelsea’s Maritime Hotel.

Alex: I wish it were summer.

I was watching the news today and they were saying that this was the coldest June we’ve had in like, 50 years or something.

Alex: It’s mad, innit? When we were here mixing the album it was scorching.

Global warming, get into it!

Matt [laughs]: Yeah.

Alex: Better get used to it!

I just got finished with a power listening session of the new album, Humbug. Did you guys take an official hiatus between the last album and this one?

Alex: We had a period of about six months before we got back together and started playing again. We didn’t play at all, practically had no shows last year. But yeah, with the previous album there was that desire to get back in the studio after the first one came out and shed our skin a little bit. We toured to death on that second album, and by the end I think it lost a bit of spark. So we were like, ‘Let’s take a minute and be a little bit more considerate.’

Recharging your batteries, so to speak.

Alex: A bit of that, yeah. Just spending more time writing and even during the recording, we’d record a little bit, have another gap, then go back recording. It was just a little bit more thought out.

Humbug is a way more mature album. Did you go into the writing process like ‘Okay, we’re going to write about things we never have before?’

Alex: I suppose there are two sides to it. Aside from the lyrics, at first we were a bit frightened to stop after that first one. We wanted to demonstrate that there was more to it. There was a need there, which is why we did it so quickly. Looking back on those records, it always feels like we were catching up with ourselves. It was never like ‘Right, this is what we’re going to do.’ It sort of seems like this is the first time we were maybe, in control or just a little bit in control and open. We worked with different people, whereas before we were practically afraid that we would jeopardize the identity of the band if we let too many people in. That kind of went away this time. On the lyrics, I think it seems like quite a natural progression. The process of writing lyrics doesn’t seem like it’s dramatically changed that much in terms of how often and stuff, but obviously the situation’s changed quite a lot. We’ve traveled more—

Matt: The thing about that first record is that is was so neatly, like, commentary or narration on that situation in our lives.

The first two albums, and especially the hits off of those like “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” and “Fluorescent Adolescent”, really rely on that British working class narrative. When I heard Humbug I was like, ‘Oh, they’re really trying to break away from that.’

Alex: I guess we didn’t want to really rely on that. I felt like I’d always write about these characters and I didn’t want to overdo that, because I think there comes a point when it’s like, ‘Why would anyone care about these characters?’ I kind of get that sometimes. I hate the idea that people think I’ve got an assumption that they’d care about these people I’ve created–I dunno! Or at least if you are going to do that, make it interesting enough so you can’t argue with it. But also I think that perhaps [Humbug] isn’t as meticulously detailed as some of our earlier records, and in doing that I think it’s easier to be a bit more personal. Though, that comes with getting older as well. You get more confidence in what you’re doing and you’re not as afraid.

Matt: There are a couple of tunes that still feature those individuals, but for the same reason that we didn’t want an aggressive-sounding, quite heavier record, we deviated from that for a similar reason, just to introduce a diversity.

Do you feel like there are a lot of expectations, personal or otherwise, with this album?

Matt: There seems to be something [pauses] fresh about it. There’s a certain satisfaction listening to this one that I can’t remember having before. There’s some degree of ownership on it somehow, it just feels more like we’ve realized our ideas a bit better.

Alex: We did put a bit of pressure on ourselves to make something you could take a crack at (laughs).

Yeah, like a dancefloor banger!

Alex: Yeah well that’s the thing. I love the idea of doing like a party record.

Matt: Called “Ready When You Are” (laughs).

Alex (laughs): I think it would be about some part in the party but definitely not the like, jumping-around part.

You’ve had a couple, you’re like, ‘I think I’ll take a nap…’

Alex: Yeah!

So many bands are going the dance route nowadays though.

Alex: Maybe not like ‘dance’ but you know—

Hi-hats!

Matt: Four to the floor!

Alex (to ’SUP): Wait, what were you going to say about bands going dance?

I just feel that like, you know, Bloc Party did it, and the Gossip. Back in the day I loved the Gossip, but now everything’s just so polished and nice! I could name about 15 bands that have done the same thing.

Alex: Yeah, I know what you mean.

Matt: Remember that Aaliyah cover they did?

Totally! I’m very partial to some Aaliyah. But yeah, the dance music sound doesn’t work for everyone. Sorry, I just had a horrible vision of like, Arctic Monkeys gone disco.

Alex (laughs): No no! It won’t be that! All hips and shit! Me like, dancing around with a guitar. No, I didn’t mean that kind of party! I’ll tell you what’s great though, that new Simian Mobile Disco record.

Yeah, I heard it the other day. It’s like going to be a huge pop record.

Alex: The Beth Ditto track is so amazing. The one we love is that’s like, ‘Looking for girls who like girls…’

Oh, the one with Young Fathers, “Turn Up the Dial”!

Alex: That tune is so big. Simian were doing that song in this practice room in London when we were recording next door and we’d go in and be like, ‘Can we just listen to that again?’ (laughs)

This album is going to make them like, the new Chemical Brothers or something.

Alex (laughs): We joke about that all the time! We call them the new Chemical Brothers.

Speaking of Simian, you worked with two pretty heavy producers on this album: James Ford from Simian Mobile Disco and and Josh Homme from Queens of the Stone Age.

Alex: Well we’ve always been huge Queens fans and we got to play a show with them. We opened for them year before last. We got to chatting, because we referenced them in an interview and we just heard through different people, like ‘Oh we were speaking to Josh the other day.’ I remember reading something where he was asked ‘Would you do something with Arctic Monkeys’ and he was into it. We sort of forgot about it, but then we started doing these demos and we told our label we’d be down for this Josh Homme thing. So we sent him the demos and went from there. I think the one thing is that we kind of tapped into each other’s sense of humor a bit, straight away. It’s adds an important (pauses)—

Matt: Dynamic—

Alex: If you’re going to be working in such close—

Matt: Quarters—

Alex: With each—

Matt: Other (laughs).

(Laughing) Wow, you guys are so close. It’s cool when a band gets someone they admire to produce their record and that person can really put their stamp on it. Often it seems like bands are like, ‘Oh, we got so-and-so to produce our record!’ but it sounds just like the last one.

Alex: One thing Josh was always adamant about–whether it was something he had produced or something James had produced–was that our identity remain the star. Before this recording I probably didn’t have confidence in that. We let go a little bit more, like traveling out to the Joshua Tree to record.

That must have been amazing. Just the ambience.

Alex: Undeniably. A load of possibilities were provided by that trip. That’s where we started, and the things that were recorded there really set the blueprint for the rest of it.

On the flipside, Alex, you just recently moved to NYC, right?

Alex: Yeah.

I can’t think of a more different place from the Joshua Tree.

Alex (laughs): Yeah! Recording in New York was quite circumstantial. James was on tour, no one really wanted to fly anywhere (laughs). He’s got a good head, James, as we’ve just been discussing. We like working with him. But during that sessions we were conscious that the things we were making, we wanted to fit in with the [Josh Homme recordings]. In that sense, I guess, New York had less of an influence.

One song in particular, “Secret Door”, has a lot of ’60s, almost psychedelic vibes to it. Are you a total ’60s buff now, after having done Last Shadow Puppets?

Alex: I think that with Last Shadow Puppets I had used a part of my voice that I had never touched with the first two Arctic Monkeys records, so that comes back across just because I enjoyed singing like that. In terns of what we were listening to at the time, I got a lot of Hendrix back out, which is obviously like, when you first pick up a guitar what you immediately go to. I kind of left it for a minute, then picked it back up. We were carrying on a bit of a Cream thing for a while. Josh turned us on to a lot of things, like obscure Roky Erickson and stuff that we weren’t super familiar with. Even some Creedence. After that we even brought out like, Nirvana. And the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster (laughs)!

Humbug has a way darker tone than all of your previous work.

Alex: Definitely, in the sounds, and everything really. But again we didn’t want to go like, super dark, like everything’s in a minor key or something. Bells and shit. There are a couple of songs, like “Secret Door”, that perhaps bring a bit more of that. Sometimes it seems like the easy option to make it sound dead dark. Doing the other thing is maybe a bit more challenging. To do it – and get away with it.

The term “supergroup” is kind of lame, but it’s well worth mentioning that Cold Cave also includes among its ranks multi-instrumentalists Caralee McElroy (formerly of experimental indie darlings Xiu Xiu) and Dominick Fernow, also known as the noise artist Prurient. Far from novices, the different members’ creative juices form a compelling mix, something not quite pop and not quite experimental.

By the time the band played Cake Shop at the end of last summer, I had seen them perform several times and knew what to expect: abrasively powerful synthesizers layered one on top of the other intertwining with Wesley’s Ian Curtis-esque striking baritone and Caralee’s sweet vocal intonation. Occasionally Caralee will pick up a guitar, adding another pleasurably ear-splitting texture to the mix. Like bands such as Fuck Buttons and HEALTH, it’s nice to hear someone bridge the gap between noise and pop so effortlessly. After about six songs on stage–no lights, no encore–the band dismantled their gear as quickly as they set up and were gone.

Before the show though, a hop, skip and a jump from Cake Shop, I caught up with the band in a booth at a random bar. I remember ordering mojitos, which seems funny in retrospect.

Wesley, you have participated in many musical projects over the years, as well as the other members of Cold Cave. How does the new band compliment those projects, or vary from them?

Wesley: It’s just sort of a continuation of them, in a way. They don’t sound the same at all, but the heart of it is rooted in the same place. It’s a natural progression. A lot of the sound of Cold Cave was based upon convenience, really. I have these instruments, so I used them this way, to make music that I wanted to make by myself and listen to by myself. That’s really the entire reason for it, actually.

Since you first set out to make the music for yourself, how did the inclusion of the band come about? How did you conceptualize it?

Wesley: I wasn’t really in a band at the time and I was slowly collecting equipment, and just decided to try it. I had friends that were really supportive and told me I should release the music.

The first Cold Cave song I heard was “Love Comes Close”, and it struck me as very Factory Records, New Order-influenced. I guess I’m just trying to understand the transition from being in hardcore bands to being in something more poppy and accessible.

Wesley: There are a few reasons, but I actually don’t think it’s that different, in a way. Like, that aesthetic and that sound is something we grew up with, were ridiculed for, bled for. I just didn’t want to be in a really aggressive-sounding band anymore. I’ve done that and I didn’t want to do it anymore. I want to try something new, really. I also think it makes perfect sense: American hardcore is at the root of all good American music, at some point.

American hardcore strikes me as a very hopeful genre of music. Cold Cave seems so much more dark to me, though I see where you are coming from with the similarities.

Wesley: I find every record I’ve been on in the past way more depressing, on various ways. The lyrical content is more or less the same. Maybe it was just more difficult to decipher [in my hardcore bands]. It’s probably just clearer now (laughs).

Yeah, now you know what’s going on (laughs). How did you hook up with Caralee and Dominick?

Wesley: Dominick was the first person to want to put out a Cold Cave record. I met Caralee in New York… [pauses]. I don’t know. I moved a lot and met a lot of people, all of us have. We have mutual friends and we just found each other.

When I saw you guys play at Music Hall of Williamsburg, one thing I noticed was how loud the set was. I recently saw My Bloody Valentine play a festival and it was one of the loudest things I’ve ever experienced, but it was also really crisp and clear. How much does that sort of noise band 101 aesthetic influence your live performance?

Dominick: It’s all about the volume. Something can be loud and muddy and have no definition to it. You want to bridge the gap between that and sounding crystal clear. You want to find that common ground where the melodies are still coming through, but it can be loud and harsh.

Wesley: Clear noise.

Caralee: Powerful, versus just loud.

Wesley: We essentially have another member who does our sound, always tours with us. Between the setup and wanting someone to understand what we’re trying to do, it’s absolutely crucial to have someone with us, essentially playing an instrument, which is the sound system.

Dominick: Especially when it comes to electronic music performed live. There’s no character or volume to the instruments, unlike a guitar or a drum set or whatever, so having someone who’s familiar with the machines is crucial. Electronic music is much harder to perform live effectively than a lot of things.

Wesley: You don’t play the machines with feeling, necessarily.

Caralee: Or at least it’s much harder to make them come across with feeling.

But at the same time, so many bands play with that coldness and make it their whole thing.

Caralee: Sure—

Wesley: But I don’t think that’s something we’re interested in at all.

So many noise bands tend to be total gear heads. Are you one of those bands that obsessive over every aspect of your equipment?

Dominick: We use the tools that are necessary, but it could be the cheapest piece of equipment or the most expensive. As long as it gets the job done.

Caralee: Whatever we like the sound of, you know. It could be a total piece of shit. Sometimes that can be the best sounding thing. There’s something to be said about them being reliable or not.

Wesley: We just try to simplify the amount of things we have, just weed stuff out.

Caralee: Especially live. When we’re recording, we use lots of different things, but live we’re trying to make the most from the least.

Dominick: If anything we’re just trying to use synthesizers, find what we don’t like about them and use something else. That’s the biggest instrument change. We’ve gone through quite a few already.

What’s the biggest difference between Cold Cave in the studio and Cold Cave live? It seems like you almost operate the two realms independently of each other.

Wesley: There’s just two different entities, really. There’s a listening component and there’s a visual. Then of course, the audio experience as well. There are things we do live that I don’t think would be appropriate on the record, but that make 100 percent sense to do live. I think the recording is just different from any experience I’ve ever had because I don’t write music, think about it and record it. I record everything I try. A lot of those sounds you have to find different or better ways to play them live. Our practice of writing is recording.

So you never sit down and write a song. It’s a continuous recording process.

Dominick: A lot of revision, too.

Caralee: It’s a lot of editing. It’s a lot of having a million ideas and finding ways to make them work.

The pair met in 2001. Vito, a classically trained pianist, ran a record store in Brussels. Stephen Fasano was a regular customer who had been DJing around Belgium for more than a decade. Both possessed an encyclopaedic knowledge of music–from pop and disco to soul and classical–and before long Aeroplane was born. After releasing three singles on Eskimo Records (“Caramellas”, “Pacific Air Race” and “Whispers”), the pair set about remixing the who’s who of the disco and synth pop world: Cut Copy, Lindstrom, MGMT, Das Pop and the Shortwave Set all received the Aeroplane treatment. But it was their remix of Friendly Fires’ “Paris” that really got tongues wagging, showcasing their talent by turning a fast-paced indie track into a blissful disco anthem that topped many an end-of-year chart.

In 2009 the pair released two even more accomplished remixes: A synth-soaked rework of Sebastien Tellier followed an inspiring take on Grace Jones’s “Williams’ Blood” (which was at first turned down by Jones but later accepted). Add to that a regular output of mixtapes, energetic DJ sets and a debut album due out in 2010, and it’s easy to see why Aeroplane are the frontrunners in the Balearic revival. We sat down to talk about puns, musical influences and which genre of super-fast dance music is worse: gabba or hardstyle.

I love that you guys started your set with “The Sound of C” by the Confetti’s. That’s old school Belgian dance!

Vito: Yeah. We love that song. The Confetti’s were part of the new beat scene in Belgium, so we play that track as respect to our home country.

Steph: It’s also the right kind of style to open one of our sets. We like to start things off pretty slow and build it up. Our style is similar to the new beat style in some ways.

For such a small country Belgium has a pretty eclectic history when it comes to electronic music.

Steph: It’s very true. You’ve got the big guys like Soulwax and there are also so many amazing festivals here. Pukkelpop, Dour, Rock Werchter…

And I Love Techno.

Steph: Yeah. They are all huge. And the club scene is good, too, for such a small country. We have a residency at the Make Up Club in Ghent which has been great for us.

But what about gabba, surely the worst music ever invented. That’s big in Belgium, isn’t it?

Vito: Gabba is more of a Dutch thing, but in Belgium we have this horrible music called hardstyle. It’s like the worst parts of all kinds of electronic music put together into one. Everything happens on the beat: a snare, a kick, whatever. And it’s 150 beats per minute or something crazy [Vito starts pounding his fists and making “doof doof” noises].

How did you guys meet?

Vito: I was working at a record store in Brussels and Steph was one of my regulars.

Steph: I had been DJing for many years and we just got talking about music.

Vito, did you have a hardstyle section in your record store?

Vito: Yeah, of course. I’d like to have just sold music I like but I needed to put food on the table by selling shitty records.

What kind of music inspired you growing up?

Vito: Oh, loads of stuff. I listened to a lot of soul music. Lots of hip-hop too. Oh, and Michael Jackson. I loved Michael Jackson. Both of our backgrounds are Italian, so that’s an influence. I listened to a lot of Italian pop growing up, and people like Lucio Battisti.

Steph: Michael Jackson for sure. A lot of stuff like Supertramp  (starts singing an indecipherable Supertramp song). And I’ve always loved Italo disco. It’s so cheesy but so good.

And what kind of tunes are you listening to now?

Vito: Bowie!

Steph: I’m still listening to a lot of Italo.

Vito: But in terms of new stuff, I love the Leo Zero remix of “Rabbit Hearts” by Florence and the Machine.

How is the album coming along then?

Vito: It’s nearly done. We’re not rushing it. We are allowing ourselves the opportunity to change our minds on things. I think that is important in the writing process.

Is it true that Dave from Soulwax is producing it?

Vito: No. We spoke to him and he wanted to produce it, but Soulwax’s schedule is just crazy so it was impossible to organize.

Your mixtapes are amazing; they seem to take the listener on a real journey. How do you go about putting them together?

Vito: We’ll play a lot of promo stuff that gets sent through. We try to play music we’ve just discovered. The mixtapes are just things we make on planes and trains to make the time fly.

Steph: We try and make the mixes representative of what we’re listening to at the moment, so people know what to expect when they come to one of our sets.

Vito: In our last mix we started with Siriusmo’s “High Together”. He’s such an amazing producer. No one is doing anything like him at the moment.

Steph: Two of the mixes we made–the “Taking Off” and “Landing” mixes–are pretty much one mix. They go together really nicely.

Your remix of the Friendly Fires track “Paris” was one of the tunes of 2008. It still sends shivers up my spine when I listen to it. How and why did you decide to replace the male vocals with female?

Vito: We were just sitting around listening to the different parts of the song and we heard the girl vocals [provided by members of Au Revoir Simone] on their own, which were backing the boy vocals on the original. We both loved the girl vocals so much we decided to use them instead.

Steph: It’s funny, we didn’t even know who Au Revoir Simone were at the time, but that remix worked out pretty well.

Your remix of Grace Jones’ “Williams’ Blood” was rejected at the first time of asking. What’s the story there?

Vito: At first Grace only heard certain parts of our remix and she didn’t like them, but apparently it was on a really crappy sound system. So we gave it to a blog and then before we knew it, it was on like 300 blogs. Then Grace’s management contacted us and said she wanted to have another listen and she accepted it. It all worked out great in the end.

Your most recent remix is of Sebastien Tellier’s “Kilometer”. Why did you name the remix “Italo 84”?

Vito: We called it that because we produced in that old Italo-era style in our production. We only used old drum machines and synths. No samples or software.

Is that how you do all of your production?

Vito: No, we usually produce with both traditional equipment and software. It’s getting them to work together that is the trick.

The disco revival is in full swing. Where do you see yourselves standing in that scene? A lot of people have you pencilled in as ‘cosmic disco’.

Vito: I see cosmic disco as coming more from the Scandinavian guys at the moment, like Todd Terje, Prins Thomas and Lindstrøm. That sound is characterized by very long tracks, extended intros and a really laid back kind of vibe. I don’t think we are cosmic disco. We are probably a bit more poppy than that.

The disco scene in London has exploded in the past couple of years . What city receives you the best?

Vito: London has been great for us. We have played a few gigs here. The Kitsuné party at the Scala in June–that went off. There was a stage invasion at the end. We played the Smiths as our last track and everyone went crazy. At first it was like, ’Shit what are all these people doing?’ But then we realized they were just having a good time! But we get a good reception in other places around the UK, like Manchester and Glasgow.

On Discogs.com it says you used to be called the Spankers. What’s that all about?

Vito (laughs): Ah yes, that was our first project. We were trapeze artists in a circus.

Hmm…

Vito: Okay that’s not true. We made one song and did one remix as the Spankers. That was a long time ago and we decided to change our name.

The Spankers doesn’t have quite the same ring as Aeroplane does it?

Vito: That’s why we changed it!