Bonjour,
Welcome aboard. We have an interview with master songwriter and singer Michael Head of Liverpool today. Not only has he made the album of the year in Dear Scott, he’s also got a really good analogy about a wasp whose life he saved. My additional gift is a playlist of fifty great Michael Head songs from the last 40 years you can listen to while you read our chit chat. Sadly the Waterpistol and Zilch albums are not currently on streaming devices, which deprives us of some crucial early Shack masterpieces, but if you didn’t know that then you’d never guess that his catalogue could still be improved. (Both albums are on YouTube, though. Shhh).
Anyway, nice to see you, to see you nice. Have you bought tickets to our next event, on July 15, at the Social? Oh, you should. You can look at the poster below and then touch this link here to pick a ticket for six quid.
We’ll be announcing another event next Monday. Have a lovely day, see you Wednesday.
Ted, Niall and Chris
Start The Week With…Michael Head
The first time I heard Mick Head, I was a young teenager, living in Paris in the early ‘80s and a kid on the school bus gave me a tape with You’ll Start A War by Mick’s band The Pale Fountains on it – and that was that. I was in. The magical world of Michael Head.
The first time I saw Mick Head I was on a ferry travelling between Calais and Dover, in the disco, in 1985, and Jean’s Not Happening was on the big screen, Mick and his band miming and looking handsome in leather jackets, Breton shirts, baggy strides. Well come on, what am I supposed to do?
The first time I saw Mick Head play live was in 1986, at Bay 63 in Ladbroke Grove, West London, one of the Pale Fountains’ last gigs before they split, with a setlist that included a version of Comedy, a song that would be released to much fanfare over ten years later by his and his younger brother John’s next band, Shack.
The first time I spoke to Mick Head was for an interview in Lime Lizard magazine to publicise Shack’s new single I Know You Well in 1990, before he played a gig in front of a couple of dozen diehard fans at Subterania (previously Bay 63). I arrived just before soundcheck and he turned up about an hour later, carried by two bandmates into the upstairs bar. “I bust my ankle playing footie in the car park,” were his first words to me, a preview of the luck that would accompany him and his band for the next few years, as singles would disappear without trace, studios would burn down, the master tapes for their classic album Waterpistol would disappear in hire cars for years, and so on and so forth…
The first time I did karaoke with Mick Head was in a pub on Goldhawk Road, around the corner from Townhouse Studios in Shepherds Bush, in late ’98. Martin Duffy of Primal Scream was also there, having just finished his piano for Lend Some Dough, a song on Shack’s soon-to-be-completed HMS Fable album, their expensive-sounding London Records debut. Earlier, manager Nathan McGough had prefaced playing a new song, Pull Together, by describing its title as “What Colour Is My New Yacht?”. For reasons unknown, HMS Fable only scraped into the Top 30 despite being another classic filled with magical melody and verse. McGough could not buy a yacht. Mick and Duffy did perform a beautiful version of Can’t Help Falling In Love in that Irish pub though.
The last time I interviewed Mick was in 2013, in the pub next to Liverpool station. He had recently kicked drugs but was still drinking, allowed a crisp tenner by his family to do so in moderation. We drank a fair bit that lunch time on empty stomachs anyway (I had a bigger allowance) as he described recent events – he and the gifted guitarist John were “on a break” – and future plans: solo albums. Many of the songs he spoke of failed to materialise, but two solo albums have been released with his youthful Red Elastic Band, Adios Senor Pussycat in 2017 and Dear Scott last month, one of his very best albums and his first top ten record in forty-odd years.
The first time I’ve interviewed Mick Head, or anybody for that matter, at 8:00 am was last Friday. You can read it here. (The last time I texted Mick for his selfie was this evening. You can’t have everything.)
Good morning Mick, it’s Ted.
Hiya Ted, morning.
You’re an early bird, aren’t you?
I am, you know, to tell you the truth. I used to get insomnia, bad. When I came off the sauce I stayed in this house and the girl I stayed with was a nurse. She said ‘have these sleeping tablets’. Fucking hell! I haven’t looked back, honest to God. People used to say to me ‘sleep’s important’. And I know that now. I used to share a room with John and all the others in the band. Nothing could get our John out of bed, not a mariachi band, nothing. I’d be sitting on the end of the bed with the telly on. Not trying to wake him up, just ‘cos I was awake. But, yeah, I am an early bed. What about yourself?
I am, reasonably. I get the best work and thinking done early in the morning and late at night.
I agree. Me too.
Congratulations on your top ten. That’s brilliant.
Fucking hell, it is mate. I love the album. It’s a great achievement by everyone at the label and around me. Personally, I’ve had some down times, bad times, and to just look at the chart and see my name and the label name’s in there with all the big guns is brilliant. And weird.
How did you celebrate?
Well…after one of the last gigs Dave [Pichilingi, CEO of Modern Sky, Mick’s label] bought some nosecco, which is basically sugar and water. The band also had some double zero beers. It was just like that. But Dave’s played a blinder. I’d never met him before. He’s been in the music business in Liverpool so long, about thirty years, and about a hundred people said to me ‘oh, you must know Dave.’ I fucking haven’t! ‘You must have!’ The city centre’s so small, it’s like a village. Everyone knows everyone. But we met for a meal and I just went, ‘yeah, no, never seen you in my life, nice to meet you.’ We got on straight away. So that’s how we celebrated: nosecco.
When was the last time you had anything stronger?
Last time I stopped drinking was in the most unorthodox way that I’ve done, and I’ve done most ways. There are all kinds of ways of detoxing. This way I wouldn’t possibly advise, but I moved in with this family…I don’t count, Ted, but it must have been fourteen, fifteen months ago. And I finally realised that it really is all or nothing with me. Like, my dad says, ‘well, I can have a few pints and then have a week off the ale.’ Well, good for you! I can’t. It’s good. The girl was stopping the sauce, too, so we stopped at the same time. And they put me onto these sleeping tablets and I can’t tell you how important it was to learn how to sleep. If you’re insomniac when you stop drinking it’s game over. Days turn into nights and nights turn into days. Getting the sleep allows you to focus. You need that focus to stay off the sauce. I’m concentrating on my kids and music.
What do you put the breakthrough into the charts down to?
Well, the band are all brilliant, great players, beautiful minds, people. Half my age! Nat [Cummins, guitar] said that we could go in with Bill [Ryder-Jones, producer] and I bit his hand off. We did five songs, but I flew off the wagon. I drank until I was 55, then I got sober for a few years, then I flew off the wagon. They couldn’t carry on because I was spoiling it.
We had half the songs and then, unfortunately for everyone, the gap happened. So meeting up with the lads after lockdown we said let’s get the momentum back. I used lockdown to stop drinking, keep writing and stay focussed. And because I was sober, lucid, I had a different mindset. I could see how we could do it. I live by canals, by woods, by the river. I bought a bike. I was focussed on the songs again. Danny [Murphy], our guitarist, said that Dave Pichilingi wanted to meet. Dave said do you wanna finish the album with Bill, put it out with us? Yeah! We got a music lawyer, Danny’s auntie, kept it in the family and she’s played a blinder. To answer your question: it all fell into place.
How did Bill Ryder-Jones impact upon the process?
Before we got to Bill’s we got the songs in really good shape. And working with Bill was amazing. Modern Sky left us to it, really. It was joyous. It really was.
Maybe you had to go through some pain to appreciate the joy.
Yeah. Yeah. Before the album, I had eighteen months of just…yeah. Fucking, really thinking that was that. I foolishly tried to self-detox because the others I’d tried weren’t working. My body went into shock. I literally thought that was the end, Ted, I really did. You know how you see on the telly or in movies and people have their lives flash in front of their eyes. I did one of them, life flashing really fast before my eyes the way it happens on telly. But it was my life. The thing it reminded me of was of a wasp I saved once. It was drowning and I clawed it out. It landed on its feet. I don’t want to go too far with this, but that wasp came back and touched me on the nose, then flew off. I swear it did. Anyway, like that wasp, I was lying on my back but I flipped myself over and phoned an ambulance…is this getting too heavy for this time of the morning?
Not at all.
OK. That was that. The turning point. Lee and Amanda came into my life, and their daughter Lily. They saved my life. I’m willing to admit that. Amanda’s a nurse. I’d never taken a sleeping pill because of the grogginess. But living there…I’d actually met Lee at a previous detox, but my sister said that Lee and Amanda could help me. They gave me a room, stuck a piece of paper on the door saying ‘Mick’s room’ and they’d give me these fucking healthy drinks, Ted. I’m thinking, ‘I’m getting healthy drinking these!’ And when you stop the sauce, the weight flies off yer.
You’re looking trim.
Thanks man. By the way, I didn’t mean to freak you out the other night at The Social when I got you to come in for our huddle. [Mick played a stripped down show for The New Cue in London and invited me in for the pre-show band huddle]
It was an honour, what are you talking about?!
Is right!
Let me ask you about the songs on Dear Scott. Each one seems like a self-contained story, as if we’re dropped into a novel or screenplay. Is that how you conceive them?It is, yeah. I have been working on short stories for the past 15, 20 years. But predominately what I’ve come to realise is that is how I write songs too. I spoke to a publisher about the short stories, so I’ve been in that mindset. Maybe I’ve put more thought into the stories in the songs this time.
You’ve always done it though, haven’t you, putting these characters in your songs? Thinking of Daniella, Oscar…
I do it quite a lot, yeah. I paint scenarios. I love doing it. I’m 60 now, you know? I’ve got a lot more scope to write about.
I love Fluke on Dear Scott, the tour for the stars bus in Los Angeles…
Oh God! I was sitting between these two girls in the street and witnessing this conversation between them. In three minutes they’d said so much, made so many plans…let’s go to LA on Monday! I was, like, what the fuck am I listening to?! The immediacy of the world that these two girls were living in, I just imagined a story where this girl’s boss says ‘I can’t go to LA, you’re gonna have to go.’ It’s a fluke, no way she’s not going. She gets to LA, then I wanted her to get the feeling that I get in movies about LA, the original Last Tycoon, Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, where they capture that misty haze, where they go to the cinematographer and say ‘I want that captured, I know it’s pink and it’s fog, but I want it.’ It’s a bit like what Bill’s done with us. He’s gone, ‘I get you, I can see it, let me capture it.’
You can tell that Bill Ryder-Jones knows what makes you good. He hears Shack or Pale Fountain records the way fans do. He’s inside your music.
100%. Yeah man, nailed it. He knew exactly where to take the songs, he knew where they came from. That’s it.
So, you’re doing short stories, but I heard you’re doing an autobiography too?
I am. A publisher wants the autobiography, but Dave’s interested in the short stories. I’ve got one called Toss Head, which is something I was called a lot at school because of my name. Head. I wanted to call the whole collection Toss Head, but I dunno. We’ll see. I’m excited about the autobiography. Someone a few years ago suggested it but I wasn’t ready. I said I had a lot to do first. Now…the last two years, as well as being some of the worst of my life, like that wasp, they’ve also been some of the most beautiful times of my life. Kismet wouldn’t have been written without ups and downs. Most of the songs wouldn’t have been written.
Have you spoken to your brother John recently? What’s your relationship with him like?
It’s fucking great, as it always is.
Oh, that’s good to hear.
Mate, I’m seeing him on Sunday. We talk a lot. We’re going to see our dad. My sister lives near where my dad resides so we get together then. He’s doing well. He’s been playing some gigs, he’s always writing.
Do you think you’ll play together or is that on the backburner?
It’s on the backburner but…it was brilliant seeing Pete [Wilkinson, Shack bassist] at Shepherds Bush, coming up on stage.
That song he did with you, Merry Go Round, was so good. Never heard it before.
Merry Go fucking Round is amazing, mate. Ah, yeah. Great to see him, great getting him up to play. With Shack, John, we never split up. We never went anywhere, we just stopped playing. Recently, Alice [Mick’s daughter] has become more involved and is our manager. She said to John, ‘if you want to put your stuff under the umbrella’, she may have mentioned about playing together…People have said it’s John who doesn’t want to do it. It’s not like that at all. When the time is right, it’ll be right. John’s said the same thing. And it’ll be fucking amazing. I heard something he played on one of our records the other day: he’s one of the most incredible guitarists I’ve ever heard in my life!
What are your immediate musical plans?
I have about a third of the next record. I said it to the lads half way through Dear Scott that there’d be two or three new songs that we’d want to cram on. But it’s slapped me in the face as I got older that there’s always a couple of songs you need to hold back and grow for the next one. We’ll do the same format for the next one. We’ll iron them out at Nat’s and then if Bill’s up for it, we’ll go there. It’ll hopefully be something like I haven’t done since the days of Virgin going, right, get back in the fucking studio. But this time, I’m ready to do it.
That’s excellent news. Thanks for your time, Mick.
Good to talk to you, mate.