10 QUESTIONS - KEITH CAMERON

I first met Keith in 1991 at Protocol Studios in North London, sandwiched between the bustle, second hand furniture stores and Indian Restaurants of Holloway Road and the relative peace of Benwell Road where John Lydon had spent his boyhood years. Protocol was where we recorded the ‘Every Heaven’ Ep, ‘Everything’s Alright Forever’, ‘Boo Forever’, ‘Giant Steps’ and tracks for the ‘Wake Up Boo’ single (although we rerecorded the eponymous track when we started going to Rockfield Studios in Wales). I’m not sure what we were recording when Keith came down to interview us for the NME but we must have hit it off because a short while later we met up for a drink and a trip to the Underworld in Camden to watch Hole. This was the gig where Courteney Love was dragged into the crowd and manhandled, sickening. We became firm friends and we still are. He’s possibly the most honest person I know which puts a constant strain on our relationship, the last thing I need is an honest opinion impinging on my fantasy world.

We shared a flat for a year in the mid nineties, sitting around in our dressing gowns, smoking dope and playing Brian Lara Cricket on the Playstation. I was away for much of the time, during which KEITH NEVER WASHED UP ONCE! But it’s hard to stay mad at him for long and when I ruined it all by getting married and had to kick his honest, non washing up ass out, I was very sorry to see him go.

1. Where are you? Describe you immediate surroundings

I’m at my desk in the MOJO office, which is on the 5th floor of an unremarkable building just of Oxford Street in London’s West End. In front of me are several file boxes over-filled with copies of the magazine, a teetering pile of CDs I’m hoping one day to be able listen to, though I’m not nearest to the office stereo and sometimes can’t face the opprobrium that comes with putting something on which is deemed unpalatable by my colleagues with louder voices and more conviction in their opinions. Next to the CDs is key books for a man in my position: Eric Partridge’s Usage And Abusage. Which is less exciting than it sounds. Immediately to my right is a West Ham Utd mug full of red pens and a photograph of my son Hamish.

2. ‘The Tiger Who Came to Tea’ is a much loved children’s story about a
woman who is having an affair with a stoner which she rationalises by
trying to convince herself,her daughter and her husband that
it’s actually a large, hungry tiger that turns up unannounced while
her husband is at work and proceeds to eat and drink everything in the house.
What’s the best book you ever borrowed from a female friend?

See, you’ve just spoilt that story for me now. I’ve not really borrowed many books, ever, either from female or male friends. Though if you’ve been wondering where your copy of Mr Vertigo by Paul Auster is, to quote the cuckholded salaryman in The Tiger Who Came To Tea, “I’ve got a very good idea”.

3. What was the worst interview you have did?

Depends on your definition of “worst”. Patrick Duff from Strangelove fell asleep. Siouxsie Sioux walked out in a huff, because I wouldn’t shut up about her past as opposed to concentrating on her fabulous new album. Silly cow. A fair few have been flat-out boring, but that’s because interviews are inherently boring.

4. Scotland is undoubtably the greatest nation on earth and anyone born
there holds keys that unlock the secrets
the universe. Why live in England? Are you subverting the Empire from within
or are you trying negotiating the release
of Kenny Dalglish?

I’ve a soft-spot for Trotsky, so I’d like to think the former. I’m obviously not doing a very good job.

5. Back in 1993 we spent six weeks trying to erase your vocal parts from
‘Giant Steps’. Have you ever, inadvertently or otherwise, destroyed
any other band’s careers?

Hey! Didn’t the stress of that experience resolve you to write some proper tunes in future??!!
I don’t think I’ve ever deliberately set out to destroy any band’s career. Saying like you see it can, however, come off a tad harsh when laid down in print. I saw Radiohead circa 1992 and really didn’t think they were much cop. I wrote words to the effect that they were a pitiful lily-livered excuse for a rock’n'roll band. I don’t think it did their career much harm. So much for the all-powerful music press.

6. On the 5th November 1977, my Dad took me to Anfield to watch Liverpool play Aston Villa. Before the game the European Cup was lifted and my dad pointed out Bill Shankly; it was incredibly exciting. The memory of Ray Clemence, Ray Kennedy, Terry McDermott and my idol, Kenny Dalglish warm up that frosty afternoon will live with me for the rest of my life. We lost only a handful of league matches at home during that entire decade and unfortunately this was one of them. 1-2, gutted.

What can you remember about the first football match you ever attended?

Inverness Thistle v Elgin City, in the early to mid-70s. Lovely sunny day. Thistle played in red and black stripes, hence my residual fondness for AC Milan. Pretty sure Thistle won, doubtless thanks to some quintessential impish wizardry from Alistair ‘Tichy’ Black, though I was too busy being fascinated by the ground, Annfield Stadium (!) which in typical Highland League style comprised a small wooden stand, with wooden benches, a corrugated iron enclosure opposite, and two terraces behind each goal of about half a dozen railway sleepers. I’ve had an eye for misshapen football stadia ever since. Thistle were merged with hated local rivals Caledonian in 1994, but don’t get me started on all that.

7. The boy is teething. He’s not sleeping and drooling like an MEP with an
expense account. What’s the best advice you can give me?
Enjoy it while you can. The molars are worse. Gel’s a waste of time, the homoepathic teething granules seemed to help, but really, the best thing you can do is give the poor bairn Medised. It’s what God invented on the eighth day…

8. Q. Did you hear about the horny suicide bomber?
A. He stepped onto a crowded bus and blew himself off

That’s my humble contribution to the vast and ancient world of original
fungineering? Have you ever made up a joke?

Never. Me and jokes don’t get on. Can’t remember good ones properly to tell them, always fall for the obvious ones, only dodgy punchlines seem to stick in my head (eg, He had a licker licence). Comedy is totally overrated anyway.

9. “Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore,
non feci mai male ad anima viva!”
Wrote Puccini in his opera ‘Tosca’. Can you, in a twitteresque 140
words, sum up your philosophy towards life?

Not really, as I’ve never twittered and don’t intend to start now. Wittering, on the other hand, is something I’m good at. The simple facts of life are:
Reggae’s great. Everything falls apart. Be honest. Love is all you need. Marx was right. The kids are insane. Mine’s a pint of Pride (and so’s yours).

10. I reckon the best intro to a song ever is ‘Death on Two Legs’ by Queen from the glorious camprock album ‘A Night at the Opera’. Oneiric, It starts with the sound of a distant, fluttering piano which is then joined by a pounding bass and what sounds like the screaming of ravenous eagles getting closer and closer until you wake, sweating, to the plod of another piano leading us into a ‘Sweeney’-esque groove (and check out John Deacon’s bass playing here, his best). Just as you think the vocal must be imminent, in comes a dizzying guitar solo soaring high above everything else… The whole thing is so pompous and completely over the top. Great, great rock music.

Horrible question, I came up with two dozen right away and then spent a day pondering the definition of ‘intro’. Does it preclude having lyrics? If so, then Thunder Road by Bruce Springsteen is disqualified. It starts with lonesome moothie and piano and then Bruce joins in with screeds of his greatest cornball wisdom until the drums kick in and we’re off. So assuming that’s a no-no, then I’ll say Livin’ Thing by the Electric Light Orchestra, probably because it’s been rattling round my head since I heard it unexpectedly the other morning. I had to interview the Arctic Monkeys, met them at a studio where they were doing some photos and Alex had his iPod plugged into some speakers. After about half an hour of Nick Cave he ran over and put ELO on instead. I don’t think I’d knowingly listened to this song for years and I was absolutely floored by how perfect it sounded. I guess part of any great intro’s thrill is the anticipation of where it’s taking you, but Livin’ Thing kinda plateaus out once we’re into the song proper. It’s still amazing though, testimony to the genius of how it starts. Obviously it’s ham theatrics all the way, but no one can do this like Jeff Lynne: the startled lone violin runs about looking for a way out, a trumpet pipes up to give him the good news and off we go into that cashmere groove blanket. Alex said he had a hangover and so it was a bit of an ELO morning. In an ideal world, every morning is an ELO morning.