SOUNDS
2nd March 1985
By Andy Hurt
Photos Tony Mottram

"This is the day I was not meant to see," said Mrs T in the wake of her premature fireworks party last year. By the time I got round to actually meeting the Screaming Blue Messiahs for our little early evening soirée, I'd come to the conclusion that this was one of those days.

I'd spent most of the day stamping my feet and rubbing my hands at a sub-zero Euston station, awaiting a snowbound train from Liverpool bearing another interview subject. Having thawed out, I mushed the huskies in the direction of a Waterloo watering hole for a showdown with the gun-shy threesome.

After an hour sitting at a lonely table, I actually had the presence of mind to investigate the other bars in the pub. Only then did I manage to locate Bill Carter, Kenny Harris and Chris Thompson, three disgruntled men in the company of their press person Vermillion and a decidedly less-than-ecstatic lensman, Tony Mottram.

The five were dispersed around the table in individual pockets of gloom, smiles even thinner on the ground than the terse conversation. The scheduled phot session had failed to materialise, the debate about whether or not to feature firearms having been thoroughly inconclusive. An irked Mottram was soon to leave, wagging his artistic integrity between his legs.

Introducing my own wrong-side-of-the-bed joie de vivre into this jolly company I settled down for a fun evening. In fact, so well did it go that I arranged to go for a second take with Bill the next day.

And so the bulk of the conversation occurred in a cosy Covent Garden eaterie with the loveable guitarist.

Frontman Bill Carter is – by default – spokesman for long overdue overnight sensations the Screaming Blue Messiahs. Having heard a lot of not particularly favourable comments passed about the shaven-headed Teesider, I am pleasantly surprised, not to say relieved, to discover a relatively mild-mannered and pensive (if rather guarded) personality, a man who would prefer to let his music do the talking.

Carter's somewhat ambivalent attitude is symptomatic of his fluctuating fortunes in the music world. Along with bassist Chris, Bill became immune to adverse press and frustrated ambition during their time together in Motor Boys Motor. The dismantling of that outfit and the formation of the Messiahs a mere 15 months ago coincided with an about-face of opinion by both press and public.

Why the transformation?

"I don't know. Timing, maybe. Perhaps when Motor Boys Motor were around the atmosphere wasn't right. I think that what we're doing now is a bit more refined, more definite, more personal, more human. It's a better band, we just seem to click. We're very lucky to have got together."

The evolution of what they term 'Vision and Blues' has been based upon the individual talents of the three diverse components.

"I dont't think there's anybody who can play like us – no-one can play bass like Chris, or drums like Kenny. I think Kenny's the best drummer in the world. I really do."

As a group outside the glitzy world of superfluous fashion consciousness, the men have steered an appropriately unfashionable course, their sole recording to date being their six-track mini-album, 'Good And Gone', for Ted Carroll's Big Beat label. Their live performances to date have been almost exclusively confined to the London pub circuit and, a couple of dates in Holland apart, their most exotic engagement up to the time of this interview had been in Leatherhead.

The Messiahs are in the front rank of a new wave of bands taking music back to the clubs and away from the disco dancefloor.

A prominent feature of their all-important live show is Carter's home-grown repertoire of guitar gymnastics, a contribution he's keen to play down.

"I've developed a style of playing guitar by copying others. After ten years of playing I can't really play that well – I just pick out a couple of chords and play what feels good, but I'm not good technically. I couldn't do session work. I get the sort of sound that I can tune in to without having to move my fingers too much! In musical terms I just sit on the bass and drums. That's what the band is all about – rhythm."

Quite. A large chunk of the live set is clearly rhythmic, rather than melodic.

"I don't really like 'songs' as such. I don't write songs. One or two structured numbers may result, but generally I prefer the sort of hypnotic feeling that John Lee Hooker used to get."

'Relax' is playing on the jukebox.

"This isn't a song, is it?"

Point taken.

So what about that John Lee Hooker influence?

"The blues influence is there, that's obvious. You can see what the influences are, but that's not important. What is important is how we use and adapt those influences."

"British R 'n' B was killed off because they just got stuck to the 12 bar blues format and thought that was good enough, but it's not. You only have to look at what Beefheart does with the blues to see what can be achieved. He takes it and moves it about, changing rhythms. He's not black, he wasn't raised in the cotton fields, but he's got his own thing to say."

"It's important to keep moving, to forget about what's gone before, to keep a clear head and not fill your brain up wth memories."

Carter rounds on me for a recent live review in which I intimated that, for the growing league of Messiahs fans, the band may just be a stepping-stone on the way to the next Sex Pistols.

"I see things differently," counters Bill. "You mentioned the Sex Pistols in your review – people have been waiting for the second Sex Pistols since 1977, but they're not going to come, the same way Jesus isn't going to come. But the Screaming Blue Messiahs are here. You have to take it or leave it, you can't sit on the fence.

"It's early days yet, and people have got to get to understand what's going on when we play. You know we don't play straight R 'n' B, there's a lot going on and it takes a lot of handling. I don't agree with the conclusions you draw, and I think you've got a negative approach."

Biff! Sock! Pow!

As to my implication that the trio are a little old to represent a new generation of music, Carter is less vexed:

"That's a fact. The only parallel I can draw is with films. You look at those films that were made for teenagers – they were crap, crap! The best films are adult films, and the best music is adult music. I never liked the Sex Pistols or the whole adolescent stance. Kids go and see films like Taxi Driver, they don't have to be led up the garden path.

"Similarly music doesn't necessarily stop being exciting once you reach 21. You've just got to look at the old blues guys – Howlin' Wolf was still playing when he was 60, and Hound Dog Taylor didn't even record his first album until he was that age."

The aggression channelled into their music is reflected in their appearance. Their intention of using firearms in the photo session was the reason for that difference of opinion with their press officer the previous night. Eventually the band's stand prevailed. But how relevant are the guns?

"We don't own them, they just present a powerful image. I see it more as a symbol of commitment, an attitude that's psychological rather than physical.

"It's not as if we're going to go out shooting people – if we were we'd be criminals and not poncing around with pop music! I'm not in the least bit violent, I don't think anyone in the group is, you can't take it too seriously."

Nevertheless, I wouldn't recommend getting on the wrong side of these lads, just in case...

The Messiahs are set to take a giant leap forward, having signed a long-term deal with WEA, which is to spawn an album (with the working title 'Holiday Home') by the summer. Meanwhile the roadshow gathers momentum, travelling to such far-flung outposts of civilisation as Brighton, Nottingham, and beyond.

Butchering the rotting corpse of disco-orientated popdom, Bill and the rhythm boys are here to stuff the guts back into a filleted club scene.