Post by rockinronnie on Mar 2, 2014 14:36:38 GMT
Thanks to DodgyBackwater on the main forums:
Hope this doesn't break any copyright rules, but it was on the Free Access on Rocksbackpages. Interesting that Francis's views on privacy and fame haven't budged an inch!
Status Quo: 'We're Not Musicians — We're Players!'
Caroline Coon, Melody Maker, 10 January 1976
STRIDING into his road-manager's sitting room, Francis Rossi quips, "no comment " and then spins on his heel as if a fast retreat is on the cards. Consternation reigns – until you see his sneaky smile. But, before you can relax, his friend is saying: "Can I introduce you to Rick Parfitt?"
Is there some mistake? No, just Status Quo "doing you up," with the usual high spirits, which, when times have been hard, have kept their heads above water.
Between 1967 and 1970 Status Quo had a number of hit singles with 'Pictures Of Matchstick Men', 'Ice In The Sun' and 'Down The Dustpipe'. They seemed set to join the pop-music elite. But then it became an uphill struggle for the band until the time of their fifth album, Piledriver, in 1973.
By then they had developed a gritty, edgy, scrap-metallish persona. Their music, while still Top 10, had become raw and uncompromising rock 'n' roll.
Not that the band have ever actually basked in musical acclaim. More often they are written off as lamebrained and limited.
But, far from being crass and unimaginative, Status Quo manage to weave an intricate, fluid and expressive patchwork of sound within the carefully simplified framework of their music.
Their thudding hit and echo rhythmic effect, their pulverising bass moan, resolutely strident guitars, and unquestionably fine musicianship make them one of the most exciting bands on the scene.
They are in the process of putting the finishing touches to their ninth album and Rossi is unashamedly enthusiastic about what's already gone down.
"For some reason it's taken us ultra-long to finish this album," he begins. "I suppose because it's a good album. But each one that we've done has taken a bit longer to finish than the one before. We've spent about £14,000 on this new album so far, which is a lot of money for a band like us. We never use session guys. The album's taken so long to finish, though, because it's taken us just that little bit longer to get that certain feel."
Have they got a favourite recording studio? "Well, the first place we ever used was I.B.C. We did a thing called 'You're My Girl' there. Then we went to Pye and we were very happy until there was this guy whose wife was dying somewhere.
"The bass really vibrates along the floorboards at Pye and one night we were in the middle of a take and it was really moving, going home. And in walked this man. And it all fell to bits. We went berserk. And now we're at Philips.
"We didn't think it would be up to much, but it's really good. Up to a point, a studio can really affect the kind of sound you make, and that's why we don't like changing around."
Over the years, had they developed a set way of recording? "Yes, but we changed our recording technique for this album. We used to go in and rehearse to get to know the numbers, which can be really hard.
"This time we wanted to do away with the rehearsal thing, and I went round to Alan's (Lancaster, bass player) and we put down some tapes in his music room, to take to the studio. And we had some sort of a picture of how a song should be before we began.
"Before, we used to rehearse somewhere for two days to familiarise ourselves with the new material and have a day off, and then we'd have two or three days in the studio and another day off to rehearse, etc.
"But this time we've been in the studio seven days a week. In one sense it means that we've worked harder – much harder – but it's been far more enjoyable."
Rossi, I find, has an unsuspected side to his personality. His stage presence is relentlessly fierce. With legs wide apart and no fooling, he wedges his guitar deep into his groin and, flailing the air with a sheet of hair, he is unequivocally masculine.
Now, however, sitting on a sofa, with the smell of shampoo wafting around his freshly-washed hair, he seems surprisingly gentle. The man whose motto is a diffident "just messin' about" talks with unguarded passion about the process of music-making.
"At first it's a terrible bore, a terrible drag to play a new number. We all sit in a circle facing each other, and we may end up doing terrible 'pongo' things, idiot stuff which you wouldn't want anybody else to see, but it's getting you off.
"And then you realise that you've got it and you go for a take. You've been playing it all day, you're quite relaxed, and there's a certain amount of fire. Then it starts to get tight. Everyone's still pretty cool but it's getting better.
"And you're getting more and more tense, and then you're actually playing from the top to the end and you start to improve on it. You start to change little bits here and there so that each bit of your own part of the song has a slight variation.
"Then, suddenly, you lose it! Because, none of you really know it and you haven't been playing ultra-relaxed, which is a bit of a drag, nor have you been playing ultra-heavy.
"You want it in the middle, and if you don't get it there, then you've lost it again. Anyway, by the end of a take you're like that..." He quivers. "Your legs are done in...!"
Is he embarrassed by the commercialism inherent in a successful single? "In a way. They take on a really dodgy feel, and we don't want to hear them again."
How many times do they have to overdub to achieve the thick texture of their sound?
"On this album we've done a lot of overdubbed parts. Sometimes it can be better for me to do them all because I'm the lead guitarist and I'd get it perfectly phrased.
"But we've discovered that with me doing them all, it can sound too much one way. So this time the three of us have all done over-dubs. You can lay them over three tracks or 'bounce' them all on to one track but, by having three different styles playing the same part we've found that the sound has taken on a very different texture to when I did most of them myself.
"And we've found that we'd rather double track to get a 'big' sound than make it with echo etc, in the control room.
"We prefer to 'bounce' most of our overdubs onto one track because we like to use the wonderful sound you can achieve with magnified tape hiss.
Status Quo have been criticised for playing very simplistic music. Do they ever feel under pressure to 'develop'? "No. We haven't and we never could."
Rossi doesn't seem in the least bit jaded or bored with the job he's been doing for the last 14 years. "Well, there are too many people who call themselves musicians. They're hung-up on the word 'musician,' whereas I don't like to refer to myself as a musician. None of us do. We're 'players.' We can play and we get off on it, and it's our life, but I'm not going to sit here and get seriously intense about it."
Does he have the time to listen to any other bands? Is he influenced by what is considered to be the current 'chart sound? "Queen are very impressive. I love their records. But I couldn't tell you what else is in the chart at the moment. I used to be able to. But now I don't feel a pressure to respond to the Seventies feel. Perhaps though, it goes in anyway. I think everything, good or bad, can be an influence."
For all Rossi's extroverted stage image, he has a reputation for avoiding most offstage drama – parties for example. Is he basically shy? "Yes, I suppose I am. But I've got a lot of front when I want it. And the position I'm in allows me to use that front and get away with it."
But why does he need a front? "Because I enjoy it to a certain extent. Let's say it was four years ago. Then we were much more aware of 'image,' and I'd always come on much quieter. There was always a bit of laughing around. We've always had that. But now I can pull it off more easily."
Has his success enabled him to develop parts of his personality which he would not have had the courage to reveal before? "Yes. I do love messing about, having a laugh, and now, even when people are being pompous around us, like doing an interview on Radio One, we can have a lark. Perhaps if we weren't successful, it wouldn't be so easy."
The band grew up together in the quite affluent but working class suburbs of South London. Do they, however, know each other really well?
"Do we ever! It got to the point about three years ago where it became a problem. It caused friction of some sort.
"It got to a funny stage, and we all talk about it and we all know it, where we just know how to wind each other up. Each time we had an argument, one of us might say something which we thought was just a laugh, but it could really set one of the others going.
"Now I won't do that. We're through that period. Now we know how far to go, and where to leave off."
Are there certain "rules" that he has learned to keep the vibes happy in the band? "I suppose we have in a certain way and, at the moment, I think it's better than it's ever been. We're getting on really well – again."
Male relationships have been described as a "tyranny of hierarchical competitiveness."
"Yes, I suppose you could put it that way!" Has he found that one person in the band has to accept the role of being on the bottom of the pile?
"Yes. In our case that's the drummer's position. For no other reason than the three of us must work out what we're going to play, and it's no good him bashing through it while we're trying to work it out.
"And that's the only place where there could be trouble. He has to sit and wait and wait while we work. We all sit in our tight circle and he sits away from us and it can be a bit of a drag for him."
And Rossi is the front man. Does he get into any leadership conflicts? "Well, it's not a problem really, because the only reason I'm the front man is in everybody else's eyes, not in the band's eyes. To them it's a big joke!
"I got called 'Mike' for ages. And Mike, he's the joke of the band. People do say it's Rossi and his band. But I don't like it, because I don't carry them and they don't carry me. We're a band.
"Occasionally there are problems because I do get a lot of attention. Say, playing the single on T.V., I tend to get the head shots. But I'm not taken with it. I don't really want to be there so much.
"I do the chat on stage, and have a laugh and sing the singles. So what? I couldn't do it on my own. I don't think so, anyway."
But it is a problem – something he's always having to deal with? "Yes. You picked me out to do the interview, but often I ask one of the others to do them. Especially since, and with all respect to you, I'm getting to the stage where I'd really rather not see anything about us in the papers, anyway, because what we read about ourselves just never rings true."
When he got married in 1967, did the band resent the fact that he was spending less time with them? "No I think the wife got jealous because I was spending so much time with the band," he laughs. "But I think you'd better stay off marriage."
People presume that rock 'n' roll stars have an amazing time on the road but it must be hard being away so much when the family is growing up?
"Ah, but I think me personally, I'm lucky there. I don't get off on parties. I don't get off being on the road. I love gigging, but I don't get any kick about being in the States – or wherever. I'd much rather be at home.
"I was really bitter about being in the States this summer, missing all the good weather at home."
When he's walking out of the house for a two month tour, how does he want his family to react? How does his wife cope with saying 'goodbye'?
"She has learned to accept it. You have to learn to accept everything. If the band falls to bits tomorrow, I'll have to take it. Which is something I think I've learned over the last year or so. I think that whatever happens, even if I end up driving a cab, I'll accept it.
"If I end up driving a cab I've decided I'm not going to grouse about it. I think it's best to do everything you do as best you can without complaining, however ordinary it is."
Does he still want to make Status Quo one of the biggest bands in the world?
"Yes. Everybody wants their band to be the biggest in the world. You always think that it's possible, and I think it's possible for Status Quo because we seem to get across to people on all levels. There's something about the nature of this band which gets across to an audience.
"It comes from us and goes to them and sometimes, when I'm onstage, I get the feeling that even if the sound went off there is something in our personalities – and I don't mean to sound conceited – which would still go over. And the more the audience loves it, the more we love what we're doing."
Does he think that they have controlled the band's success or is it just a matter of luck and timing? "I feel in control of what's going on and how big we're going to get.
"But you only have to remember that time in 1968 to realise how chancy it can be. It's back to whatever happens must happen."
Talking about control, what does he feel about the violence which whips around them when they're on the road? "That's bulls*** I don't think there is any violence," he replies seriously.
What about the endless pictures of destroyed seats that appear in the press after one of their gigs? "That's afterwards, when we've gone. But if that's what you call violence, then I think it's good.
"I'd rather people smashup seats than fight. I hate fights. We've all been through them. But anybody can kill anybody else. In this business I'm the perfect get knocked over with a feather' type – but I can kill somebody as easily as they can kill me.
"And that way, I don't figure just because a guy's bigger than me, that he's better than me. Fine – he can knock me over, but he dies in exactly the same way as I do. You can put his head under water in the bathroom and he's finished.
"Maybe that's a funny way of looking at it but, and although it's costing us money when they wreck those gigs, I'd much rather see that than see them fighting in the street."
How does he think he will cope if all his ambitions come to nothing and he ends up, after all, a "Backstreet Broken Man"? "Well, and I know this might sound terrible, but I've seen it all, I've done this all my life.
"I used to figure 'if we have a bit record, everything will be all right. Mum and Dad won't tell me off anymore, there'll be no more rows with the wife, everybody will be wonderful and everybody will smile.'
"Then you have this hit record and you think, 'well, where is it, what's different?' And there's no difference. There was no difference when we first made hit records, and there's no difference now that we've done it again."
"We are quite big now, and I don't think more money would make any difference to life. And yet I can still see the business how I did when I was younger. I still see the glamour and the stars, and I still think it must be different for them. But then I know that they get up in the morning, too. Still, I don't have a normal life, and sometimes I get envious of nine to fivers. I don't think people realise what it's like to say to your family and friends, "Right, good-bye I'll see you in TWO months."
© Caroline Coon, 1976
Hope this doesn't break any copyright rules, but it was on the Free Access on Rocksbackpages. Interesting that Francis's views on privacy and fame haven't budged an inch!
Status Quo: 'We're Not Musicians — We're Players!'
Caroline Coon, Melody Maker, 10 January 1976
STRIDING into his road-manager's sitting room, Francis Rossi quips, "no comment " and then spins on his heel as if a fast retreat is on the cards. Consternation reigns – until you see his sneaky smile. But, before you can relax, his friend is saying: "Can I introduce you to Rick Parfitt?"
Is there some mistake? No, just Status Quo "doing you up," with the usual high spirits, which, when times have been hard, have kept their heads above water.
Between 1967 and 1970 Status Quo had a number of hit singles with 'Pictures Of Matchstick Men', 'Ice In The Sun' and 'Down The Dustpipe'. They seemed set to join the pop-music elite. But then it became an uphill struggle for the band until the time of their fifth album, Piledriver, in 1973.
By then they had developed a gritty, edgy, scrap-metallish persona. Their music, while still Top 10, had become raw and uncompromising rock 'n' roll.
Not that the band have ever actually basked in musical acclaim. More often they are written off as lamebrained and limited.
But, far from being crass and unimaginative, Status Quo manage to weave an intricate, fluid and expressive patchwork of sound within the carefully simplified framework of their music.
Their thudding hit and echo rhythmic effect, their pulverising bass moan, resolutely strident guitars, and unquestionably fine musicianship make them one of the most exciting bands on the scene.
They are in the process of putting the finishing touches to their ninth album and Rossi is unashamedly enthusiastic about what's already gone down.
"For some reason it's taken us ultra-long to finish this album," he begins. "I suppose because it's a good album. But each one that we've done has taken a bit longer to finish than the one before. We've spent about £14,000 on this new album so far, which is a lot of money for a band like us. We never use session guys. The album's taken so long to finish, though, because it's taken us just that little bit longer to get that certain feel."
Have they got a favourite recording studio? "Well, the first place we ever used was I.B.C. We did a thing called 'You're My Girl' there. Then we went to Pye and we were very happy until there was this guy whose wife was dying somewhere.
"The bass really vibrates along the floorboards at Pye and one night we were in the middle of a take and it was really moving, going home. And in walked this man. And it all fell to bits. We went berserk. And now we're at Philips.
"We didn't think it would be up to much, but it's really good. Up to a point, a studio can really affect the kind of sound you make, and that's why we don't like changing around."
Over the years, had they developed a set way of recording? "Yes, but we changed our recording technique for this album. We used to go in and rehearse to get to know the numbers, which can be really hard.
"This time we wanted to do away with the rehearsal thing, and I went round to Alan's (Lancaster, bass player) and we put down some tapes in his music room, to take to the studio. And we had some sort of a picture of how a song should be before we began.
"Before, we used to rehearse somewhere for two days to familiarise ourselves with the new material and have a day off, and then we'd have two or three days in the studio and another day off to rehearse, etc.
"But this time we've been in the studio seven days a week. In one sense it means that we've worked harder – much harder – but it's been far more enjoyable."
Rossi, I find, has an unsuspected side to his personality. His stage presence is relentlessly fierce. With legs wide apart and no fooling, he wedges his guitar deep into his groin and, flailing the air with a sheet of hair, he is unequivocally masculine.
Now, however, sitting on a sofa, with the smell of shampoo wafting around his freshly-washed hair, he seems surprisingly gentle. The man whose motto is a diffident "just messin' about" talks with unguarded passion about the process of music-making.
"At first it's a terrible bore, a terrible drag to play a new number. We all sit in a circle facing each other, and we may end up doing terrible 'pongo' things, idiot stuff which you wouldn't want anybody else to see, but it's getting you off.
"And then you realise that you've got it and you go for a take. You've been playing it all day, you're quite relaxed, and there's a certain amount of fire. Then it starts to get tight. Everyone's still pretty cool but it's getting better.
"And you're getting more and more tense, and then you're actually playing from the top to the end and you start to improve on it. You start to change little bits here and there so that each bit of your own part of the song has a slight variation.
"Then, suddenly, you lose it! Because, none of you really know it and you haven't been playing ultra-relaxed, which is a bit of a drag, nor have you been playing ultra-heavy.
"You want it in the middle, and if you don't get it there, then you've lost it again. Anyway, by the end of a take you're like that..." He quivers. "Your legs are done in...!"
Is he embarrassed by the commercialism inherent in a successful single? "In a way. They take on a really dodgy feel, and we don't want to hear them again."
How many times do they have to overdub to achieve the thick texture of their sound?
"On this album we've done a lot of overdubbed parts. Sometimes it can be better for me to do them all because I'm the lead guitarist and I'd get it perfectly phrased.
"But we've discovered that with me doing them all, it can sound too much one way. So this time the three of us have all done over-dubs. You can lay them over three tracks or 'bounce' them all on to one track but, by having three different styles playing the same part we've found that the sound has taken on a very different texture to when I did most of them myself.
"And we've found that we'd rather double track to get a 'big' sound than make it with echo etc, in the control room.
"We prefer to 'bounce' most of our overdubs onto one track because we like to use the wonderful sound you can achieve with magnified tape hiss.
Status Quo have been criticised for playing very simplistic music. Do they ever feel under pressure to 'develop'? "No. We haven't and we never could."
Rossi doesn't seem in the least bit jaded or bored with the job he's been doing for the last 14 years. "Well, there are too many people who call themselves musicians. They're hung-up on the word 'musician,' whereas I don't like to refer to myself as a musician. None of us do. We're 'players.' We can play and we get off on it, and it's our life, but I'm not going to sit here and get seriously intense about it."
Does he have the time to listen to any other bands? Is he influenced by what is considered to be the current 'chart sound? "Queen are very impressive. I love their records. But I couldn't tell you what else is in the chart at the moment. I used to be able to. But now I don't feel a pressure to respond to the Seventies feel. Perhaps though, it goes in anyway. I think everything, good or bad, can be an influence."
For all Rossi's extroverted stage image, he has a reputation for avoiding most offstage drama – parties for example. Is he basically shy? "Yes, I suppose I am. But I've got a lot of front when I want it. And the position I'm in allows me to use that front and get away with it."
But why does he need a front? "Because I enjoy it to a certain extent. Let's say it was four years ago. Then we were much more aware of 'image,' and I'd always come on much quieter. There was always a bit of laughing around. We've always had that. But now I can pull it off more easily."
Has his success enabled him to develop parts of his personality which he would not have had the courage to reveal before? "Yes. I do love messing about, having a laugh, and now, even when people are being pompous around us, like doing an interview on Radio One, we can have a lark. Perhaps if we weren't successful, it wouldn't be so easy."
The band grew up together in the quite affluent but working class suburbs of South London. Do they, however, know each other really well?
"Do we ever! It got to the point about three years ago where it became a problem. It caused friction of some sort.
"It got to a funny stage, and we all talk about it and we all know it, where we just know how to wind each other up. Each time we had an argument, one of us might say something which we thought was just a laugh, but it could really set one of the others going.
"Now I won't do that. We're through that period. Now we know how far to go, and where to leave off."
Are there certain "rules" that he has learned to keep the vibes happy in the band? "I suppose we have in a certain way and, at the moment, I think it's better than it's ever been. We're getting on really well – again."
Male relationships have been described as a "tyranny of hierarchical competitiveness."
"Yes, I suppose you could put it that way!" Has he found that one person in the band has to accept the role of being on the bottom of the pile?
"Yes. In our case that's the drummer's position. For no other reason than the three of us must work out what we're going to play, and it's no good him bashing through it while we're trying to work it out.
"And that's the only place where there could be trouble. He has to sit and wait and wait while we work. We all sit in our tight circle and he sits away from us and it can be a bit of a drag for him."
And Rossi is the front man. Does he get into any leadership conflicts? "Well, it's not a problem really, because the only reason I'm the front man is in everybody else's eyes, not in the band's eyes. To them it's a big joke!
"I got called 'Mike' for ages. And Mike, he's the joke of the band. People do say it's Rossi and his band. But I don't like it, because I don't carry them and they don't carry me. We're a band.
"Occasionally there are problems because I do get a lot of attention. Say, playing the single on T.V., I tend to get the head shots. But I'm not taken with it. I don't really want to be there so much.
"I do the chat on stage, and have a laugh and sing the singles. So what? I couldn't do it on my own. I don't think so, anyway."
But it is a problem – something he's always having to deal with? "Yes. You picked me out to do the interview, but often I ask one of the others to do them. Especially since, and with all respect to you, I'm getting to the stage where I'd really rather not see anything about us in the papers, anyway, because what we read about ourselves just never rings true."
When he got married in 1967, did the band resent the fact that he was spending less time with them? "No I think the wife got jealous because I was spending so much time with the band," he laughs. "But I think you'd better stay off marriage."
People presume that rock 'n' roll stars have an amazing time on the road but it must be hard being away so much when the family is growing up?
"Ah, but I think me personally, I'm lucky there. I don't get off on parties. I don't get off being on the road. I love gigging, but I don't get any kick about being in the States – or wherever. I'd much rather be at home.
"I was really bitter about being in the States this summer, missing all the good weather at home."
When he's walking out of the house for a two month tour, how does he want his family to react? How does his wife cope with saying 'goodbye'?
"She has learned to accept it. You have to learn to accept everything. If the band falls to bits tomorrow, I'll have to take it. Which is something I think I've learned over the last year or so. I think that whatever happens, even if I end up driving a cab, I'll accept it.
"If I end up driving a cab I've decided I'm not going to grouse about it. I think it's best to do everything you do as best you can without complaining, however ordinary it is."
Does he still want to make Status Quo one of the biggest bands in the world?
"Yes. Everybody wants their band to be the biggest in the world. You always think that it's possible, and I think it's possible for Status Quo because we seem to get across to people on all levels. There's something about the nature of this band which gets across to an audience.
"It comes from us and goes to them and sometimes, when I'm onstage, I get the feeling that even if the sound went off there is something in our personalities – and I don't mean to sound conceited – which would still go over. And the more the audience loves it, the more we love what we're doing."
Does he think that they have controlled the band's success or is it just a matter of luck and timing? "I feel in control of what's going on and how big we're going to get.
"But you only have to remember that time in 1968 to realise how chancy it can be. It's back to whatever happens must happen."
Talking about control, what does he feel about the violence which whips around them when they're on the road? "That's bulls*** I don't think there is any violence," he replies seriously.
What about the endless pictures of destroyed seats that appear in the press after one of their gigs? "That's afterwards, when we've gone. But if that's what you call violence, then I think it's good.
"I'd rather people smashup seats than fight. I hate fights. We've all been through them. But anybody can kill anybody else. In this business I'm the perfect get knocked over with a feather' type – but I can kill somebody as easily as they can kill me.
"And that way, I don't figure just because a guy's bigger than me, that he's better than me. Fine – he can knock me over, but he dies in exactly the same way as I do. You can put his head under water in the bathroom and he's finished.
"Maybe that's a funny way of looking at it but, and although it's costing us money when they wreck those gigs, I'd much rather see that than see them fighting in the street."
How does he think he will cope if all his ambitions come to nothing and he ends up, after all, a "Backstreet Broken Man"? "Well, and I know this might sound terrible, but I've seen it all, I've done this all my life.
"I used to figure 'if we have a bit record, everything will be all right. Mum and Dad won't tell me off anymore, there'll be no more rows with the wife, everybody will be wonderful and everybody will smile.'
"Then you have this hit record and you think, 'well, where is it, what's different?' And there's no difference. There was no difference when we first made hit records, and there's no difference now that we've done it again."
"We are quite big now, and I don't think more money would make any difference to life. And yet I can still see the business how I did when I was younger. I still see the glamour and the stars, and I still think it must be different for them. But then I know that they get up in the morning, too. Still, I don't have a normal life, and sometimes I get envious of nine to fivers. I don't think people realise what it's like to say to your family and friends, "Right, good-bye I'll see you in TWO months."
© Caroline Coon, 1976