Wednesday 13th September 2006
“I think we bump cleverly. We bump stuff from everywhere rather than one place. If you bump from one place you’re gonna get found out. We bump from all over the place and stick it together again. So it can sound a bit original I suppose. Actually, I don’t know if it sounds original. But it doesn’t bore me. I’d probably buy our album. I wouldn’t have bought the EP, man. That’s a bit thrown together. But I’d buy this. I’d totally buy this’
– Jon Fratelli, Chinese restaurant, north London, May 2006
‘Bump’ is Glasgow for ‘steal’. The Fratellis’ frontmans talking about the band’s debut album. If it sounds like anyone – if namecheck we must – it sounds like Manfred Mann. That’s right, the Sixties-to-Seventies pop magicians who did everything from 5-4-3-2-1 to Do Wah Diddy Diddy to Semi-Detached Suburban Mr James to Ha! Ha! Said The Clown to Bob Dylan’s The Mighty Quinn to Bruce Springsteen’s Blinded By The Light. That’s what I’m saying anyway. That’s how ear-scramblingly diverse and gifted this t’rific Scottish trio are. That’s the truth. ‘I like albums where every song is different to the last one,’ says Jon acknowledging the madly eclectic range of his songwriting. ‘You gotta be on your toes a bit. You might not get it at first. But when I did get London Calling I couldn’t take it off. I’ve listened to it once a week, ever since.’
Barely pausing for breath Jon – The Mighty Mouth with Ken ‘Diddy’ Dod’s hair who isn’t blinded by anything – is now saying in his sing-song, see-saw Glasgow accent that he likes ‘the greats: The Clash, The Beatles, Dylan. Most new bands are ridiculously bad and tuneless and have lost the plot. Nobody knows how to write songs anymore. Including us! Arctic Monkeys? They’re pretty average, man. I’m gonna sell him a melody one of these days, stop him using the same one all the time.’ A pause while Jon takes a swig of water (he doesn’t drink much; too much of a lightweight). ‘When a lot of bands start they want to be the band that was out a year ago. Whether that might be The Strokes or The Libertines. Or Arctic Monkeys now. It’s frustrating. You’re going for the wrong stuff. Go back 20 years and find The Right Stuff. That place where The Libertines are brand new and didn’t rip off The Clash? Doesn’t exist.’
One suspects that Jon Fratelli has talked like this – fast, opinionated, cheerfully – all his life. But The Fratellis have only been going for a year. They were formed after Mince Fratelli (drums) put an ad in the window of Glasgow music shop Sound Control (‘don’t namecheck them,’ hisses Jon, ‘I hate them’) last spring. Mince was a guitarist at the time, and was seeking likeminded compadres. ‘Only people that want to conquer the world need apply!’ said the advert. Jon thought, ‘he sounds like a dick but that’s also quite good.’ He hated the typical muso adverts from ‘guys who give you all their influences. “I like Radiohead.” So fuck. No thanks.’ Jon answered, and so did bass player Barry Fratelli. Mince and Barry, it turned out, had been in bands before. Jon hadn’t; growing up in the New Town of Cumbernauld (someone has to) he’d spent the years since first picking up a guitar (aged 16) writing songs. ‘I’m the sad bastard who sat in his room year after year, writing stuff in a little cupboard. I was prolific at writing shit songs. Loads of them, ever week, for five or six years. Till it got to the point where it sounded any good. And now it does.’
The bedroom saddo who had no interest in being a singer became the new band’s frontman. The guitarist who brought them together became the drummer. The professional croupier became the bass player and gave them their name. The Fratellis were born.
They played some gigs beginning in May 2005. Not too many. (no fanbase constructed, no MySpace jiggery-pokery). Nine in fact. They gave a demo to a record label scout. Who gave it to a lawyer. Who gave it to an A&R consultant. Who gave it to Island. Who signed them in the autumn. Who sent them to Los Angeles to work with producer Tony Hoffer (Beck, Badly Drawn Boy, Air) in December. Whose enthusiasm for the band set the seal on a remarkable few months for three guys who didn’t even know each other a year ago. And who put up with Jon.
‘He did Turin Brakes too,’ says Jon. ‘I asked him about that. He did The Kooks as well. I really asked him about that. I wondered if it was a momentary lapse of good taste. He did Mark Owen too… He doesn’t care about taste or anything. He’ll do it if he wants to do it. He’s coming to my wedding.’
With the manically enthused Jon, the thoroughly spangled Mince and Barry, Hoffer had a lot to deal with. And work with. Since winnowing the ‘shite’ from his songs, the good stuff tumbled out of Jon. There are 16 songs fighting for inclusion on the final tracklisting for The Fratellis’ debut. They’re all good.
Creeping Up The Backstairs is definitely on there, not least because it was the lead track on the band’s first release, the limited edition EP that was greeted with howls of critical enthusiasm, radio raves and moshpit/indie disco hosannas when it came out in April. ‘I’m baffled that people really like Creeping,’ sniffs Jon. ‘I think it’s really ordinary. It’s totally overshadowed by the rest of the stuff.’
He might have a point. Country Boy is a Mod stompalong with an explosive, take-your-head-off riffs. Everybody Knows You Cried Last Night is a feelgood festival anthem in the making. Vince The Loveable Stoner is singalonga nonsense (in a good way). Got Ma Nuts From A Hippy is brilliant for the title alone. Handily, it’s a skanking, pop-punk masterpiece, with a squealing guitar solo and a proggy bit in the middle. Is this wild song based on true experiences? ‘Ah-ha,’ Jon laughs, wildly, ‘no, I never got ma nuts from a hippy. What you’ve got to understand is that there’s 16 tracks and almost all of them are stories and none of them are true. It’s that whole train of thought, Dylan storytelling vibe, I love all that. Beat poetry… I love Ginsberg. You might not be able to follow it but it sounded great and ridiculous. Hippy… is the same. So is Vince… Actually, that one’s about Mince our drummer and that’s all true – as the songs says, I haven’t seen a pupil in his eyes since I met him. Why’s he called Mince? He’s got different story every day. The story I heard is that it’s short for Mincent. That’s the best one.’
Then there’s the Tigerfeet-meets-Slade thump and swagger of Chelsea Dagger. Jon says it’s a song about a showgirl. ‘Kid-on, made up stories are more interesting than reality. We don’t wanna sing about the drudgery of British city life, or chucking-out stories. That’s boring and depressing. Chelsea Dagger makes everyone smile. Actually it’s my girlfriend. She’s Chelsea Dagger. She does burlesque stuff and that’s her stage name.’
Well, it might be. What is certain that The Fratellis – as proven most recently at Texas’s SXSW and The Camden Crawl – are a hip-shakingly, head-bangingly exciting live act. Even when he’s not having a good time, Jon is great to watch. In Austin, playing a showcase event in the concrete garden of a pub in the afternoon, they were a revelation. ‘SXSW is rubbish, man,’ counters Jon. ‘It’s all a myth. Not the nicest place to hold it as well. And it fucking rained all the time. But I was expecting it to be shit, so I wasn’t surprised. It’s a bit like listening to the Arctic Monkeys album…’
Contrary to soundbite appearances, Jon Fratelli is not a grumpy, arrogant gobshite. His airy dismissals of this and that are delivered with a glint in his eye and a ruffle of his exploding hair. He’ll slag off The Fratellis as readily as another band. He’s chipper and friendly. And his songs are as entertaining as hell.
Take Henrietta, the new single. It’s a rocket of a pop song, destined for great things on airwaves, dancefloors and festival-fields this summer. ‘She just a pal of our’s mum. She’s pretty hot I suppose. A MILF! It’s half made up as well. We want her to come and live with us and buy us shoes and take us out for cola and answer the phone and stuff.’
And why not? The Fratellis: fantastic and fantastical.
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David Jensen Photography:
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