Graham Coxon
w/22-20s, the Vacation
Wed March 23, Chop Suey, 9 pm, $12.
Ten years ago, Graham Coxon was the lead guitarist in the biggest mainstream rock band in England. On the backs of twin masterpieces Modern Life Is Rubbish and Parklife, Blur sparked a pop moment--Britpop--that cemented their cultural and artistic influence across Europe, and even, to a certain degree, in America (where you can still become famous for being famous elsewhere). He also appeared to hate every second of it.
It's one of big time rock 'n' roll's most agonizing, embarrassing tropes: While Blur sold millions of records and his bandmates soaked up the glory, Coxon was famously miserable, glowering (handsomely) in photos, crashing cars, and drinking himself into oblivion. But unlike certain other variations on the depressed rock star story, Graham Coxon's version has a happy ending, or at least a happy middle. Three years ago, shortly after a month of rehab, he left Blur while the band was making Think Tank. Then, two years ago, he recorded Happiness in Magazines, a ferociously lively album that restored Coxon's rocking credentials--given Blur's dubious dalliances with fake experimentalism and his own previous super-lo-fi solo efforts--and reinstated him on the British charts. Now, Magazines has finally been released in the U.S., and Coxon is touring here for the first time as a solo artist.
Interviewed by phone, the soft-spoken guitarist--and now singer-songwriter--discussed the process by which he decided to step out of the lo-fi shadows. "I kind of imagined if songs could speak," he explained, "that they were telling me to do a good job of recording them. So I thought I'd give it a go the way normal people do. Normal people in groups make videos and release singles and go on tour and use producers. Really, I wanted to relinquish control a little bit and work with someone whose opinion I valued. Just to get some help, really."
Whereas his four previous solo records were willfully obscure, the work of a man who seemed to be hiding from his listeners, Magazines is confident, showy even, with a rock energy that almost sounds like his old band used to sound.
"I guess I was more responsible than anyone for the sound of the Blur records," Coxon said. "They were very guitar-driven, and I was kind of like musical director in a way. There were lots of guitars, lots of backing harmonies, stuff like that. Most of the sounds on the albums were made by me. So I'm not ashamed to imagine that there would be similarities between my stuff and the old Blur stuff. It seems quite natural that there would be, actually."
The difference here is that where Blur, even at their best, often sounded studied, Coxon's new record is supremely casual. It's casual enough to drop bitchin', noodly guitar solos (it's probably worth mentioning here that Coxon is one of the most extraordinary rock guitar players alive; even professional Blur-haters bow before him). It's casual enough to rhyme "computer" and "cuter" in a cheeky exaggerated accent. It's casual enough to sound like a kick-ass rock band, when in fact, Coxon plays all the instruments. Best of all, it's casual enough to let the quiet, pretty songs sound open and vulnerable. Happiness in Magazines is obviously the handiwork of someone excited about playing music again.
"It's interesting," Coxon said. "There's been such a resurgence in England of music that I feel rooted to, rooted in with. It's really great that I can go out and listen to something that sounds like Gang of Four and then something that sounds like the Buzzcocks. It's really energetic and kind of dangerous in certain musical areas of London. Things are kind of exploding."
According to Coxon, British rock has become "a lot more exciting than 10 years ago, when it was all this sort of plodding, baroque, kind of exaggerated English anthemic bollocks--so boring. And now it seems a bit more real, a bit more flesh and blood than all that bloated Britpop bullshit."
All that bloated Britpop shit he helped invent, but never seemed to fully get behind. Though in England, it's old news, Coxon patiently explained that he stuck around for all those uncomfortable years largely because "when you sell a lot of records and make some money, there's a mild panic that you must keep it up, because shit, once you get some money, there's nothing worse than losing it."
For years, he sublimated the panic with drinking and home recording. But the early solo records, despite moments of real inspiration, never came close to touching the greatness of the occasional songs Coxon sang in Blur ("You're So Great," "Coffee and TV"). The early work, according to Coxon, was made "as a way to marry up with my roots, what was inspiring me. I had to deal with my interests and inspirations separately from Blur in the end, really, because they never would have entertained the thought of making the songs that were on my first three albums. So, I just had to do it myself, really, for my own sanity."
The dual resurgence--of British rock and his own desire to play it--has gotten Coxon "thinking back to the lineage of British music," and searching for his place within it. If Magazines is the result of that search, it's good news for all of us who wondered why Blur veered off the path of smart, interesting, fun guitar rock after their brilliant 1997, indie rock-inspired Blur LP.
As for the other aspects of going solo--like going from playing Wembley Arena in England to playing the 550-capacity Chop Suey this Wednesday--Coxon sounded positively thrilled.
"There's nothing worse," he explained of playing at massive venues, "than being on stage and your fingers are bone dry and you come off stage and you haven't worked up a sweat at all. You feel you haven't really worked. There's something demoralizing about it. Whereas these kind of shows we're doing in the States are gonna feel proper. That's what it's all about."
