SWEAT and MAKEUP an interview with Yazoo’s Alison Moyet

Rip It Up, Issue 65, 1 December 1982, Page 14

SWEAT and MAKEUP an interview with Yazoo’s Alison Moyet

It's hard to imagine anything more dissimilar than R&B and syntho-pop, yet Yazoo, in two singles and one album, have managed to bridge the gap. It's a marriage of convenience as ex Depeche Mode's Vince Clarke needed the earthiness of blues fan Alison Moyet to add character to the twee popiness of much of his material and she needs Clarke's fashion and musical ideas to help her career in black music. Moyet's on the phone from her place in Basildon, a London satellite designed to be a post-war spill-over for the greater metropolis. She has a slight Cockney accent, fast, efficient but not without an element of real charm or vulnerability. Her background is blues and soul, not all that common among young ladies these days: "It started about 1978 when I went to see R&B bands like Dr. Feelgood and Lew Lewis. And then I went back to their roots and I found people like Muddy Waters, Sonny Boy Williamson and Howlin’ Wolf and then I formed my own group, The Screaming Abdabs; I stayed with them for three years. We were very obscure, we were lucky if we got one gig a month and we weren't even paid for them." What's your opinion of the syntho-pop fashion? "It doesn't effect me as I don't listen to it and 1 see the synthesiser as just another instrument. 1 never liked Depeche Mode when they first started when Vince was with them, they were too 'whee' but their last single 'Leave In Silence' was a brilliant piece of work. But I don't listen to the pop scene I just listen to my record collection." That's a bit introverted isn't it? "Yeah, sure, but I have become more open minded. At one time 1 decided I didn't want anything unless it was blues or soul but now I'm doing different things and enjoying it. I was certainly very narrow minded before." Do you resent the fact that soul and R&B artists aren't given more attention or are made more prominent? "They've had a fair deal but not in the singles' market which is such a throwaway thing anyway. So far Yazoo are doing really well but next year maybe everybody will have forgotten about us, it's so disposable. Pop music and our sort of music is like a Christmas present in that it's excitable at the time whereas soul and R&B lasts for years because so much of the stuff is classic. I'd prefer success in the long term rather than just a lot of success in a year." Do you feel you're a convincing enough singer to be able to compete and be compared with the feel that black artists have? "That's a difficult question. I'm one of these people who don't like hearing blues and R&B sung by white artists, yet here I am doing it myself. It's such a difficult thing to say, I'll just have to pass on that question." Apparently you got in touch with Vince through a music ad? "Yeah, I put an ad in for a blues band and he answered it. Five other groups answered it as well but they all backed out because I didn't have a demo tape so they weren't prepared to audition me." A tough business, but what's it like fronting a bank of key-

boards rather than a traditional band format? "There's handicaps as you can't feed off the band's emotions and you can't slow things down as there's a set rhythm." Yazoo music is breaking new ground, imperfectly sure and confident, they're taking risks rather than playing safe. Was there a realisation that Yazoo's blend of soul and electronic pop was an innovation? "It wasn't so much an innovation. When Vince writes a song he'll tell me the basic melody line and I change it to suit me. It makes no difference to me as to what's going on behind me, whether it's a synthesiser or whatever I just follow the chord pattern. And when I write a song I'll pass it over to Vince and he'll interpret it his own way. So a part of both of us is going to come out in all of the songs as we both work on them." Staying with songs and Alison Moyet's credits on the album include 'Midnight', 'Goodbye Seventies', 'Winter Kills' and 'Bring Your Love Down', all of them reflecting her R&B background. When were those songs written? "The most recent was 'Winter Kills', that was done within a month of completing the album and the first one I did was 'Goodbye Seventies' which was about turning my back on the punk movement because I was very much into that. The group of people I used to hang around with were very anti-fashion and we were punks like in the Ramones idea not like the punks now. But it became just another fashion and I became disillusioned with it and that's when I turned to the R&B clubs which were great because people didn't give a damn what other people were doing. They were there to have a good time and they didn't care if they looked a mess or if the sweat had made their makeup run. It was a really healthy feeling." Your jump from the anonymity of sweaty blues bands to the world of pop and glitter is real Cinderella stuff: "Yeah, the jump has been very quick but I have been sweating it out in bands for five years trying to get a regular gig and that was my idea of success, just a couple of gigs a month. But the amount of success we've had has been astounding, but if I didn't think I was gonna make it somewhere I would never have carried on." Do you feel as if you've compromised your past beliefs in your present activities with Yazoo? "Not really. When we did the first single, 'Only You', it was just going to be a one-off as Vince didn't want to do any more and I was only doing it as a stepping-stone so that when other bands rang up I could say I had a demo. It worked out well but I still wanted to do soul music so after Christmas I'm forming my own band to tour and record with so that I can have the best of both worlds." Vince is obviously not soul orientated: "Right, he's influenced by Simon and Garfunkel and pop tunes. Vince and I are very different and we both lead different lives so we don't have that much contact other than when we're working. We've arranged it so that I can do this band thing and

he can do his jingles and work with other people like he wants to. That's why he left Depeche Mode, he had all of these pressures that he couldn't control but now he has more freedom." What about 'I Before E Except After C' on the album? It seems to be a puzzling but interesting word-play on advertising cliches? "I don't know. We had a bit of a quarrel about that one as I didn't want it on the album as it broke the spontaneity of it and I don't think it's good in its own right. I can understand experimental tracks but that one had no impact at all. I said to him that if he wanted to put it on he should've put it as the last track so that people don't have to lift the needle and put it down again. But he felt strongly about it, and it is a two person band and it was his band to start with so I didn't think I had the right to tell him what to do." One of the album's most mature songs is your 'Winter Kills', a slow blues format with plenty of feeling. What's that about? "That's basically a love song. I don't know whether you've come across people who're quick to tell you this is everything and that's great and I was saying to them that that's rubbish, it's not like that at all." The rise of Yazoo has been meteoric, the instant success story syndrome that has its dangers of backlash: "Yeah, that's something you don't like to think about but you do. We've told everybody that we're quite prepared for the backlash but whether we are is another thing. Ours is about due now as we've had three hit singles and I think the time is about right. We're lucky not to have had it before, actually." You're not paranoid? "Yeah sure, everybody is paranoid to some extent but through facts and logic I can't remember one band that's gone through success and not had a backlash." The Beatles, surely? "Yeah perhaps." Is your attitude typical of new bands? "Yeah, there's a lot of distrust about the press but you've gotta be prepared for the fact that the people who are praising us at the moment may start killing us off in a second. It's not important, it's irrelevant. It's an occupational hazard and it's not as if the papers in England help to sell records and it's just personal opinion and everybody's allowed that." Do you attach any importance to your current popularity? "Yeah, it's important but with records you may be big for four months and after you've made a record it's not part of you anymore, it's just a marketing product, it's nothing. My ambition is just to be able to work and sing for the rest of my life." Is it possible that you're underestimating Yazoo? "I don't think I am, I just think that we are as disposable as any other band that's come out of this period. Maybe lam being paranoid and I'm preparing myself for something that seems inevitable to me. It would be good if it can be successful for as long as it can but I don't want to be surprised if it's not." That's a very defeatist attitude: "No it's not, if we can carry on the way we are then we will be releasing material not because we think it's good but because it's commercially viable." Yeah, but this is only your first album and you shouldn't be in that trapped frame-of-mind already, surely? "What frame of mind? It just seems to me that we've been spending too much time on irrelevant things that don't concern the music and we've so little time to actually make the product. We're given a couple of days to write a song and get in the studio and do it and this will be detrimental to us in the long run because you're only as good as your last single or album." The album suggests that Yazoo has the potential to last a long time: "We recorded the album straight after the first single and we were given quite a bit of time to work on it, but since 'Don't Go' we haven't been given time to record to our level of satisfaction. We want to make sure that we're given time for the second album to make sure it's as good as the last one." So can you see the band lasting as far as 'B3? "Oh yeah we'll last through 'B3 but in a different way. Up until now we've been very much a singles' band pushing out product and in the futqre we will only put out music that primarily suits us." The Yazoo backlash doesn't begin here.

George Kay

The warning had come through that Cocker was very wary or the press, that I wasn't to question him on any of the drugs or booze-sodden periods of the seventies. I hadn't really intended to but I was certainly curious about his current state of health. Was he fit? Articulate? Coherent even? Instead, the Joe Cocker who met RIU in the sunny hotel lounge overlooking the harbour was anything but a mumbling derelict. Gentle, even gracious, he talked quietly and amiably about his career. Less bloated than past photos suggested, his modest frame nontheless seemed faintly incongruous in a surfboard company's promotional sweatshirt. The thinning hair and lined face don't hide his 38 years and, like his famous stage mannerisms, the hands are constantly in motion: fiddling with a cigarette or dead match, scratching his sparse beard or simply fluttering to emphasize a comment. And while we sat around a coffee table, over there, keeping just apart yet staying well within earshot, was Joe's tour manager. We began by chatting about various tracks on his new album, Sheffield Steel, and the editor showed him Ken Williams laudatory review. Cocker pronounced it 'pretty fair' but winced at Ken's observation that "for a while it looked as if Cocker would remain one of his period's rather more pathetic visible casualties. Then he simply shrugged. He'd obviouslv read many such comments before. He was relaxed and in a mellow mood. This was his fifth visit to 'Australasia if you 11 forgive the term. I get otf down here. Things run pretty smoothly, a lot smoother than they do in Europe.' And the audiences? 'Great. They're getting more mixed all the time. I have this group for whom I'm a little bit of a legend but Tm always taken with the number of young kids. A lot seem to be growing up with their parents or older brothers listening to my music so

they just sort of fall into it. These days there don t seem to be many white blues singers about. When we played London recently, Eric Burdon and Chris Farlowc turned up. I flipped out. I'm not the only one who's still alive. He laughs at the thought, then continues. "There's not much of the blues . in modern music. Maybe these kids have a leaning towards the soul element." Does he listen to much of the new rock music then? "To be honest I don't. Maybe I should. Ysee I don t have any offspring like Pete Townshend. Maybe if I had a kid who was listening to Haircut Number Nine or whatever then Id know what was going on. But the fact is I don't hang around people who listen to new wave music. If something on the radio made me go 'Wow!' then I'd go out and buy it but nothing has really made me spring up yet. He pauses and almost seems to shake his head. "And there's so much about. God almighty just the number of new labels around in Britain is staggering, let alone the bands. When I was back in London last year (Cocker has lived in America for the past decade) we went to see some group pub, this latest rage of every wave. I don't want to sound square but there was just no emotion there. Rock without the soul. But surely his using Sly Dunbar, Robbie Shakespeare and cohorts on Sheffield Steel is a contemporary move in itself? "Right. When Chris (Blackwell, Island Records owner/producer) first called me and suggested it I was totally unaware of who they were. When Chris told me about them, that they'd worked with Marianne Faithful and Grace Jones I went 'Oo bluddy’ell; I'm not sure about this. But when I met those guys they're beautiful cats, all of them. They deliberately un-reggaefied themselves for me and kept it hardhitting R&B." Ini Cocker rolls his eyes and grins. "I mean them working with

Grace -that's what scared me half to death. We did two tracks together on spec and then it worked out from there. And Nassau's a nice place to record." As well as the current album success, Cocker's just scored his first ever number one single in the US: a duet with Jennifer Warnes of the theme from the movie An Officer and A Gentleman. Is there to be a follow-up? . ' "Not really. It was an isolated thing, for a movie. But I would like to do more duets. The other day my manager called Aretha up. Apparently she'd heard the single and said she'd do a song with me anytime. It's been a longtime ’dream of mine to do a duet with her. Or Ray Charles. I'd love We've talked about it with TV people. The idea is for a special, Ray was up for it. He'd sing me under the table though." ' •What about the financial boost from a number one hit? “Well maybe. Like in the US I've been doing a bar circuit - ;, big bars, a thousand seaters - but I'd become more a cultist thing. Maybe this summer it'd be nice to do some big festivals or something." V ; :• __ •. Joe smiles. Perhaps his semi-allusion to the old Woodstock, days was unconscious, but it's there just, the same. I begin to ask whether he often reflects on the extreme twists in his career, how the first heady successes were followed by ... he cuts me off and picks up the RIU review and reads out with a grin. "... and then the pathetic visible casualty'. department. You can never say that'll never happen again. You just try to stay on top of things, like everybody else. But there's no way you can guarantee it. I don't let things get to me as much. Well, once in a while I do." He casts a sheepish look at his ; tour manager. "But I try not to. It saves a lot of wear and tear." - Are there any of his recordings that he regards with special pride; that he sees as a standard to measure the others against? "To be honest, With A Little Help From My Friends: But back then we had the time and the money. That took two years but as a meaure of quality I still think it's the best record I've ever made. These, days the time and money pressures are much greater. You can't just redo songs in different ways with different bands, spend a quarter of a millon dollars on a couple of song's. People don't throw advances around like they used to. You can't afford to waste that sort of money. It's tougher now." .:. And is the voice holding up to the pace and the pressures? Joe is lighting his second cigarette of the interview. "I still can't stop this filthy habit. I think we've only pulled out of one show on this tour. In Germany. But that was just not getting a night off in two weeks. The shallow end is when I've been partying too.much. There's no special procedure for taking care of it." He belches and takes another sip of his beer. But when I'm on form I'm on form." ■ That night Auckland Cocker fans were able to check out his form at the Logan Campbell Centre. And he was right about his audience. They ranged from well in their forties to kids of first year high school. Of course Joe's voice has suffered considerably over the years. It was never less than rough but it once used to be a lot' richer and more flexible. These days he can't reach the top of his range at anything less than full throttle and then the notes won't hold. Yet after 18 years of singing he can still summon up vocal passion, albeit somewhat tattered. He remains almost totally without a sense of stage command; when not singing he simply looks bewildered by what is going on around him. The female backup singers were fine but the band did not serve Cocker well. They lumbered through the greatest hits capably enough which is what the adoring crowd had come for but on subtler numbers such as Marvin Gaye's 'lnner City Blues' the crass HM guitarist's inadequacies were pitifully obvious. The two keyboards tended to cancel each other out rather than complement. Only.the sturdy rhythm section kept things alive. A comparison of the band's performance of songs from Sheffield Steel with the album cuts made the shortcomings quite.obvious, something Cocker had virtually acknowledged at our interview earlier in the day: "There's no real way we can get the road band to get the album’s sound. I mean Chris Blackwell came to hear us in Paris and he didn't like our version of Ruby Lee'. I mean he's very Rastafarian natured y'know. But I never pressure the band to play different. I mean you can't play like Rastafarians if you're not." During the course of the interview I came to like and respect

the man in much the same way that I liked his new album he was modest, straightforward and, yes, soulful. We went on to talk about real ales so much for the publicist's warning and I began to think that perhaps I could ask him one of those.forbidden questions. Like was there any significance in his omitting the lines "I'm drunk, I'm crazy; I'm sure you know" from his recording of Randy Newman's 'Marie' on Sheffield Steell (After all, he still does Newman's 'Guilty' in concert.) But there remains about Joe Cocker, despite the gravelly voice, a sense of his own fragility. (And besides, his tour manager was still listening.) So instead I merely asked him whether he ever considered what would've happened if that first dizzying rush of fame had never occured, if he'd never become a full-time singer and just stayed a gas-fitter. 'There's always that thought. I once thought of managing a pub. I'd like that. But it's like BJ. our drummer said one night when we were both sitting around getting a little laced. 'Joe,' he said 'we should both be gardeners' and I said, T3y God Barry you're right, we should'." Cocker chuckles again. "But God man, if I wasn't a singer I'd be so lonely for the music. I'd have to do something with it, even if only in my spare time."

Peter Thomson