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Having just released 'Cuckooland': his first album in six years, he talks about pride, prejudice and his weird and wonderful career as a pioneer in the margins.
"I like being interviewed, but I’m quite nervous beforehand," he says, maneuvering his wheelchair next to one of the gleaming chrome tables that line the balconies on the South Bank on a boiling hot August afternoon. He
removes his black gloves and offers a firm handshake and a warm but ever so slightly wary smile. "Making music isn’t an intellectual activity for me. It’s an animal activity, like eating or sleeping. The moment you talk about it, it’s inevitably pretentious. It’s such a physical activity that anything you say about it has a vague whiff of bullshit about it."
We are here to talk about the release of ‘Cuckooland’, his first LP since 1997, yet by the time we say our goodbyes, our interview has lasted closer to three hours than the scheduled sixty minutes, and we have covered
a plethora of subjects ranging from Coltrane to Communism, via Hendrix, humiliation…and archery.
‘Cuckooland’ is probably his most cohesive and accessible album so far, but it is still just as on the money and edgy as anything he’s recorded since 1974’s startling Rock Bottom. Ryuichi Sakamoto once said that Robert
Wyatt has "the saddest voice in the world," although today Wyatt (incorrectly) describes how "my ever decreasing vocal range is now more or less reduced to a wino’s mutter.
"Actually, I am incredibly happy with ‘Cuckooland’," he says, when pressed, two hours into the interview. "I wanted to see if I could get the whole length of the CD and try and not be boring for a minute. I’ve never even attempted it before. It’s like somebody who’s only ever written short stories trying to write a novel. I feel like I’ve climbed a mountain, and I feel really at ease and light-headed now that we’ve got there.
"But nobody could call it a solo album. There are some great people on it like Gilad Atzmon, Annie Whitehead and Jennifer Maidman, who used to be Ian Maidman. She’s much happier now as Jennifer than he ever was as Ian."
You could never accuse him of doing the hard sell. What Wyatt doesn’t mention is that his guest list of pedigree chums also includes Paul Weller, David Gilmour and Brian Eno, whom Wyatt has worked with on numerous occasions since he sang on Eno’s Taking Tiger Mountain. What does Brian Peter George St. John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno – the ultimate mystery man
– actually bring to the making of an album?
"Well, it’s very hard to say," he smirks. "I couldn’t really define the contribution made by Brian Eno, who darts in and out of things in an entirely unpredictable way, leaving a trail of discreet magic in his wake. He played some synthesiser, he sang on Forest, and he put some extraordinary little guitar effects on the last song. He’s just around, really. He gave Alfie a fantastic massage when her back was hurting, he brought a fantastic piece of fruit from abroad that we ate…and it made us all sort of better.
He’s just a magician…like a magic fairy."
Read the full article in the December 2003 issue of Straight No Chaser |
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Words: Jonothan Wingate
Pictures: Peter Williams |
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