The New Cue #471 March 3: Jimi Goodwin of Doves
"Every time I make a record, someone extremely close to me dies."
Hello there,
Glad to say that we’re going to start the week in the company of Jimi Goodwin, frontman, bassist, and sometimes other instrument player with the famous and mighty Manchester band Doves, who released their sixth album, Constellations For The Lonely, last Friday.
Jimi’s had a bumpy few years. After a decade’s break between 2009’s Kingdom of Rust album and 2020’s The Universal Want, Doves cancelled part of their last 2021 tour because Jimi was struggling with his mental health. They recorded much of the new album remotely and Jimi’s not on the Doves tour that is underway right now, leaving his two colleagues, twins Jez and Andy Williams, to take care of that.
Speaking with him on the afternoon of that first date, you understand why he’s had to step back. It’s impressive that he’s even made a record, let alone also embarked on a separate solo hip hop project, the excellent NightjaR, whose debut LP he snuck out last year.
This decade, Jimi’s suffered close bereavements, has come to terms with both alcohol and substance addiction, has recently split up with his long-term partner and is currently sofa-surfing. Each of these bumps in the road would throw most from the saddle: all arriving at once could be a jolt serious enough to prevent any future momentum.
Nevertheless, Jimi remains one of the most entertaining and honest interviewees, chipper despite the personal turbulence. I love him. His answers are a lesson in cosmic digression and our twenty-minute chat has to be cut off after an hour when the Zoom is about to shut. Below is a Substack-friendly edit. Maybe stick on the Doves’ best-of while you read to remind you of their genius.
Oh, and please subscribe. Even in this era of free content, nothing is truly free for all.
Enjoy the edition and your week please,
Ted and Niall.
The Life & Times Of…Jimi Goodwin
Hello?
Hello, Ted. I was on Zoom on my iPhone and Zoom on the computer. Too much Zoom, you're Zooming out. Too much fucking perspective, mate.
How you doing?
I'm all right, man. Yeah, wow. I mean, that's been a fucking crazy five or six years for, you know, not just for me, but for a lot of people. And 2025, I've got to admit, has not got off to the greatest of starts. But I'm here. I'm hanging in. What else can you do, man? You gotta hang in there. Some days it's one foot in front of the other. I don't want to sound fucking grim on your ass, but that's just my life, baby.
So, you're not on tour with Doves, but the other Doves are on tour now.
They start their tour today, and it's kind of weird. I've been making music with those cats since I was 15 years old. But I don't regret the decision. Because right now, I'm in recovery from substance use and alcohol abuse, right? I don't mind talking about it at all. It's already out there, we made statements about it. I don't want it to keep cropping up, but just as long as people got the message that I would not be there on the tour and there wouldn't be disgruntled punters. It was a joint decision between the three of us. I've known them since I was 15 and they've had my back. They've seen me at my worst, they've seen me at my best, and likewise. I love them. And if I'm being truly honest, I don't feel like getting up and performing in front of people. I’m always playing music, I'm always writing music. But not really into playing songs in front of people. I'm moving studios at the moment, too, and I'm selling a house…my life is in a state of flux.
What’s going on, life-wise?
Fucking surveys, mate! It’s just life, you know? I’m navigating it the best I can. But I'm cool, I'm alright. I try and practice gratitude every day. I've got a roof over my head. I've got food in the fridge. I've got clothes on my back. Ultimately, I'm all right. I'm working on NightjaR, the next record, which is my major passion. The only thing with that is rappers being hella expensive.
I bet.
I've just got Grand Puba from Brand Nubian. And if I say so myself, it's turned out really, really well, but I'm bank rolling this shit, and money's too tight to mention, as a certain red headed geezer sang many moons ago. I've got it laid out. I've got the tracks, I've got a title, I've got the sleeve ready. I've just gotta tweak it some more. It’s probably gonna be more instrumental this one, but I really enjoy making beats. That’s my love, I make beats all the time... Well, when I'm not packing boxes, moving studios, moving house. I pretty much turn on my computer and I make about three or four beats a day. I go back to what I did the next day and I tweak. I'll play around with that one for a little while. I'll put it in the background. Lift up another one. See where that's left. It's something I've done for many, many, many moons. It’s the real labour of love.
Music is what I dreamed of being involved in since I was seven, since I saw the Clash, the Ramones, the Buzzcocks, and Ian Dury and The Blockheads at a very early age. I've got to admit, there's been times when I've questioned it. But it’s given me a life, and I know people in bands and various musicians who should be fucking huge, but sadly they’ve got day jobs. I say with genuine humility, I've managed to make a living from it.
So, the music-making element of your life is still good.
I don't want to sound morbid, but every time I make a record, someone extremely close to me dies.
Has that happened recently?
Yeah, my brother died two and a half years ago. Before that, eight months earlier, my sister-in-law – they weren’t married, but good as - died of a massive asthma attack at their home. Within eight months he died of a broken heart. I do believe that that's possible. And if you look at the back of every album that we've ever done, there's a rest in peace there for family members, friends. There's been a lot of bereavement in the last six years. That's life. It's not just me. I don't do the after show though, you know. I just go and pay my respects at the cemetery. I don't want to stand knee deep at the bar, trying to get a coke when everyone's fucking lagging and talking shit.
Let me ask you these questions, because a lot of this stuff is about your life, and this is a questionnaire about your life: we can combine.
Yeah, man. Let’s do it.
What was the first record that you loved?
Probably Tiger Feet by Mud.
I was about five. My dad took me to see them at Southport and I got a Mud badge, when badges were as big as you, a Mud flag. I took it all into primary school the next day, parading it about at break, and then got it confiscated ‘til the end of the day. You know, I used to go to primary school with a padlock, with no key, hanging round my neck. My grandma made me a pair of tartan bondage kecks, much to her chagrin. I had a little leather jacket. I got punk very young. I wasn't shooting speed, I wasn't in a squat in Squatney, but I fucking got punk at six or seven. Same way that I got Jimi Hendrix very young…So, Mud… I've got, I've got a sixteen-stitch scar on my forehead because of Mud. I was in the bath with our kid, about six, and I could hear Top of the Pops on downstairs, and Mud were on. Got out the bath, didn't wipe my feet, and we had wooden stairs onto a hard tile floor. I slipped on the top step, then woke up - literally the cliché - woke up with a doctor’s torch in my eyes. And then I remember waking up in the morning feeling all these bristles on my forehead. That’s music, man, right?
What was the last record that you loved?
I've just bought the new ELUCID record, which is dope.
Jpgmafia stuff's really, really good. But the thing I’m most into today is Danz CM: Berlin Tokyo Shopping Mall Elevator. She's armed and dangerous with synthesizers, this girl. She's fantastic. I think she's called Christine Mary Johnson but she’s keeping her CV pretty low key. She's amazing.
I've also been listening to Henry Carlyle, who's the guitarist out of The Orielles. Henry does his own stuff and he's a very, very, very interesting guitarist. He's pretty darn unique.
What is your earliest memory?
I think it's the falling down the stairs, right? I mean, God knows how I survived because it was a pretty fucking big fall for a six-year-old. You don't forget something like that in a hurry. But it was all for music, man, it was all for music.
What is your daily domestic routine?
I used to claim that I haven't really got one. Of course, we all have one. A coffee and a cigarillo or a cigarette. Then it's walking the dog… I'm currently staying with friends while I sell my house, right, so it's walking Eric the Bulldog. I call him Derek B. He's named after Cantona. Who doesn't love Eric Cantona? I'm a City fan, but you know, you can't not like Eric Cantona. So, it's me mate’s dog and he’s doing me a solid by letting me stay here while I get my next chapter of my life sorted, selling a house and stuff. I’m separating with my long-term partner, which is totally amicable and cool, thank God. There's no need to make a drama out of it. We're both adults. I've got two grown stepchildren, who I don't call that. I'm their dad and very proud of them. So, you know, I walk the dog. If my studio is set up, then there’ll be a big problem tearing myself away from it. I go to NA and AA meetings pretty much every day at the moment, because I need it. Apparently, you're not really supposed to mention it, but the message is out there, and if you want it, it's free. I find it a great help, in times of doubt. Because not every day is tip-toeing through the tulips.
Has anyone you've ever met made you feel starstruck?
I bottled out of meeting Bowie at a Mark and Lard session at the BBC down on Oxford Road before it was knocked down and turned into the ubiquitous flats. We did it in studio three, downstairs. I bottled out of meeting Bowie. I just couldn't do it. He was behind the door next to me, but I just couldn't do it. I tell you when I was starstruck: I met Joey Ramone. It's where I met a couple called Dennis and Lois, New York legends. They saw this little kid pogoing at the Apollo Theater in Manchester, I was about eight or seven. They were doing the merch for the Ramones. They came over to me and said, ‘Do you want to go and meet the band?’ What do you think? I'm four foot nothing and I'm shaking six-foot, seven-inch Joey Ramone’s hand. So, I guess that was when I was star struck.
Who or what is the greatest influence on your work?
Well, I'm a 55 in May guy, Ted, who tragically still calls himself Jimmy, but spelled Jimi. So it’s Jimi Hendrix. When I first saw Jimi Hendrix, it was the same time as I discovered punk from my father, and that was it. He was a left hander like me, and I was just staggered. Hendrix doing Foxy Lady live in front of a load of hippies. Oh boy, gee whizz, baby. Mind blown.
My dad had a fucking great record collection and he took me to see anything that moved in Manchester. I saw the Buzzcocks at the Free Trade Hall, the Smiths, ACR, New Order, Magazine, Devo. All the cats.
If you could go back in time, where would you go?
I've been a subscriber to your fine, fine, fine music vehicle for a long time and I enjoyed Mike Scott’s answer last week of 50,000 years ago. I don't know if I want to go that far back. I don't fancy a dinosaur up me april, you know. Everyone says the 60s, but I'm not sure if I want to go back to the 60s. I'm not a very nostalgic guy. I don't mourn The Hacienda, I don't mourn the old city. It makes way for the new. You've got the Deaf Institute, you've got all these young promoters putting on fabulous stuff. Tragically, there's not a lot of dough in it, but that doesn't mean that they're not relevant. You know that with the demise of Q, you just have to roll with it. So, I'm not nostalgic for stuff. Gonna look forwards, not back.
What do you wish the 18-year-old Jimi knew?
I wish I hadn't developed a passion for drugs. When they stopped being recreational, when I couldn’t drink like a gentleman. Sadly, that was quite some time ago. It just took a while to sink in. What else could I say to myself as an 18-year-old, though, because my fucking dream came true. I couldn’t change anything. I was making money off music from 17 years old. I stuck to my guns. And I'm obviously very fortunate that I had twin brothers in my life (Jez and Andy Williams) who could be a curse because they agree without even knowing. I have to knock a little louder, you know. And I don't find it easy. I'm not very good with boundaries, but I'm learning. You learn every day. Without sounding cliched, never, ever give up on your dream. If it can happen to me, it can happen to you. You've got to put your 10,000 hours in, you've got to put a shift in.
What was the home you grew up in like?
My mum and dad were pretty out there. Pretty artsy, pretty funky. I had an unconventional childhood. When it was great, it was great. When it was bad, it was fucking bad. I was a bit of a latch key kid, had to look after myself a bit, made me own tea because my parents had problems themselves, off and on, with substances. But tiny violins, really. I mean, many people had plenty more to deal with than me. It wasn’t until I was about 13,14 that the wheels came off. When it was good, though, it was fucking amazing. I wanted for nothing.
My dad was the middle kid of a very staunch Irish Catholic family. Working class – I hate saying it because it sounds derogatory – but working class made good. I was a middle-class kid because of that. But I had support, you know. I used to work for my dad on building sites, did that for a few years after leaving school. Then fortunately, started getting guitar sessions. Got on a retainer with a kid that got a massive deal out of London Records. So, you know, I've had a fucking good life in music, you know. I had my first so called mini breakdown at about 40, 16 years ago. That’s when I first questioned if I had it in me anymore. Because I never, ever questioned it before that. In the end I decided, this is me. This is what I do. This is my life. Just so everyone knows I'm not pulling the plug on…we've made yet another, I think, solid and great Doves album, Constellations For The Lonely.
How involved were you in it?
I was present when I was present, and I was a bit absent without leave when I was absent without leave. But somehow we got it made, like we always do. I'm thrilled with my contribution to it. I joined in when I felt able. I get three or four songs which are pretty much mine on there. We tend to finish each other's songs, that's what being a band's about. That's the way our collaboration works anyway: someone brings something in, and hopefully the three of us make it better together.
What's the best advice you've ever been given?
I grew up with a lot of Irish music around me. My uncle's an amazing uilleann pipe player. He's 83 and he still goes to a pub on a Tuesday night in Central Manchester, drives himself there with his pipes. It's called the Peveril of the Peak, famous old pub, just off Whitworth Street. He drives himself there for an Irish session. So I grew up with a lot of Irish music and there's a guy called Paddy Keenan, who’s in the Bothy Band, one of the greatest uilleann pipers alive. Paddy Keenan said, ‘If you can't do the stop, then don't do the start.’ That's always stuck with me.
When and where were you happiest?
I'm happy when I go to Ireland. I'm happy when I go to a place called Nerja in Spain. I'm happy taking the dog out for a walk in daylight, like today. It's bitterly cold, but it's sunny. I'm happy when the engine’s flowing and the music's flowing, and I'm not even thinking about my next move. I'm just making my next move, just based on pure instincts and gut, when I'm not fiddling around too much with a certain plugin. I'm just fucking laying it down as I hear it, when I’m trying not to let the technology get in the way of the idea. That's a skill that I've had to learn.
What is your favourite film and why?
I love The Red Shoes, by Pressburger & Powell. Bone Tomahawk really freaked me out. It is pretty fucking wild. I'm a bit of a sucker for cowies, man, westerns. I do love a good cowie. Actually…it's Quadrophenia.
Have you ever been arrested?
Yeah, street trading. Well, apart from getting banned from driving for the for the shocking crime - and I genuinely mean that - of drink driving. I got nicked at Wembley working the swag, bootleg T shirts. I was 17, 18, it was a way of seeing Europe. A lot of my mates still do it. A lot of my mates are still grafters. I saw Prince in Munich on the Sign of the Times tour. At 16, I saw the Smiths’ Queen is Dead at Saint Austell Coliseum, which no longer exists. Traveling around the country selling T shirts. I remember being in Paris and the security was that bad that I put on 40 or 50 t-shirts on a boiling day, walked in on a bent ticket into the middle of the crowd during Madonna’s Who’s That Girl tour literally peeling off T shirts and selling them, constantly looking over my shoulder for security guards. My main reason for doing it was seeing bands in exotic places, travelling on bent Inter Rail passes. Crossing into France or crossing into Germany. It's very romantic. They are really romantic, European trains. And I do love that kind of travel.
When you got arrested, where were you?
I was nicked by the Transport Police. I was working in Wembley station. Actually, in the station, with like, 30 t-shirts on my arm, and I got put in the cells for about eight hours, and then they let me go. So, not so bad.
Do you have any phobias?
I'm a little bit afraid of heights. I never used to be. When I was a kid, I was fearless. Now, I get a bit of vertigo, baby.
What is your pet peeve?
People. When they don't do what I want them to do. No, you know what? It's rudeness, impoliteness. I cannot stand rudeness. When you open a door for someone and they just don't even acknowledge it. I do the sarcastic, ‘Thank you!’ I try not to let it ruin my day. I've got over my road rage. I drive at the speed limit now. I don't try and get vexed when people are fucking divs on the road. I try and keep my side of the street clean, you know, because that's all I can do. And if I'm wrong, I promptly admit it.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Making living out my out of my passion, my vocation, making a career out of music, and that is getting harder and harder to do, sadly, for a lot of people. I know kids who are just immense musicians who are still doing pub gigs and stuff like that. They should be in fucking stadiums, in globe-trotting bands, they're that talented. That does break my heart, that does upset me. Even finding shitty rehearsal rooms with rats running around – which is what kids in bands need, it’s what we had in Doves - even that is getting harder to find because everywhere is getting gentrified. When we were in Ancoats, East Manchester starting out, - which, incidentally, is the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution - you could get cheap rehearsal space. We did have rats literally crossing the desk as we were mixing. Manchester was incredibly inspiring then because it proved that we didn't have to go to London to make it...what was the question? Oh, I’m very proud to have made a life and a living from my passion, from music. Timing, baby, but also graft.