I have had the pleasure of seeing the Blues Explosion live on at least three occasions before this one, and each time they have played with the kind of ferocious energy that demands both attention and a great deal of jumping around. The prospect of meeting these veritable wild men of rock was a bit frightening. Would I be able to handle them? Would they conduct themselves with such fiery madness in an interview room that I would be driven insane?

Jon Spencer (wiry and wolf-like, leather jacket, impressive mutton chop sideburns) and Russell Simins (enormous, sullen looking, also leather-jacketed) seemed distracted as their press secretary introduced me, explaining that the journalist from Leeds who was supposed to accompany me didn’t seem to have showed up. I said Hi and smiled and attempted to shake their hands and say my how-do-you-do’s as they studiously avoided eye contact. Within minutes of meeting them, I didn’t think I’d ever had less rapport with anyone. It started like this:
G: How’s the tour been going so far?
JS: ………..Pretty good.
G: Where’ve you been?
JS: Uh…….. Germany ………. France, Italy ……..… Glasgow.
G: Have the new songs gone down well?
JS: …………Yeah.
I’ll leave most of the dots out from now on. Suffice to say, there were a lot of dots. I could tell this was going to be hard work.

1998’s Acme was a mature, diverse album that straddled funk, hip hop, blues and rock as if it were easy, and it was probably the best record that Judah Bauer, Russell and Jon have ever made together. But after swinging pendulum-like from the funky dirty hip hop-influenced sound of Orange to the raw screaming monster of an album that was Now I Got Worry and back to the smoother, more accomplished Acme, I was keen to see what they would do next.

The new album, Plastic Fang, is enjoyable and consistent, with few surprises. It sees the pendulum swing back towards the more straight-forward rock’n’roll of Now I Got Worry. It is a lot less obtuse than that album; less likely to cause ears to bleed, but it has almost entirely left the beats and hip hop flirtations of Acme and Orange behind. They seem to be alternating between two styles.
G: Is there a sense in which you can’t decide which of the two avenues to go down?
JS: S’pose.
[It seemed, terrifyingly, that his answer might stop at “S’pose”. Thankfully he elaborated a little].
JS: I think that might have something to do with it, but not on a conscious level. Each album is kind of a kick against the last one. It’s not something we sat down and talked about.
G: Do you think you’ll do a remix album with this latest one, as you did with Orange and Acme?
JS: No, we won’t do a remix album.
G: Any ideas what future direction the band will take? Do you think you’ll react against the last record in a similar way to the way you’ve reacted against this one?
JS: I’ve no Idea

The first single, She Says, is one of the stand-out tracks of the album, and its banal title disguises a song about turning into a werewolf and murdering your girlfriend. Jon growls ‘Aah crave the taste of blood! Good lord almighty, good lord above! My soul is lost,’ and Judah joins in to chant ‘I curse the day that I ever was born!’. It’s a great moment.
G: A lot of the songs on the album have kind of a horror-movie feel. Has that come from anywhere in particular?
JS: I guess it was a genre I’ve always been interested in. I suppose it was a way for me to write about some difficult personal stuff… to write about it through stories.
The Blues Explosion isn’t all about bravado, as many of their detractors might claim. The sheer dynamism of the music often draws attention away from what are often lyrics of loss and loneliness. If you listen to Plastic Fang with an ear open for ‘difficult personal stuff’ you could be left with the impression that the Jon Spencer is suffering from more than a little self-loathing and guilt, although it is difficult to tell through the horror movie clichés. Killer Wolf sees Jon lamenting ‘I am the guilty one, I destroy everything I know.’ This is a band which has become known for screaming ‘Blooooze Exploshun!’ and sounding as if possessed by the devil, and it seems a strange vehicle for Jon’s confessional angst-venting.

It is surprising that the Blues Explosion have never been catapulted into the limelight, despite having been the favourite band of music journalists everywhere for much of their career. They were hyped at every turn by people who have made stars out of lesser bands, but they never quite ‘made it’. It was almost certainly for the best that they instead attracted a following of devoted muso types, because the spotlight rarely does bands like these any favours. The Blues Explosion have been better, brasher and just as distinct as The Strokes or The White Stripes, but they built their careers rather more slowly, they didn’t burst on to the scene, and they failed to capture the public mood. No real failure at all.
G: What do you think of these new bluesy guitar bands? They seem to be doing a similar thing to what you’ve been doing for ages.
JS: Yeah, we’ve been checking those bands out, sure. They’re good bands.
G: Do you think they’re worth the hype?
JS - Uh, I don’t know about that. Whadda you think, Russell? Are they worth the hype?
RS - What?
JS - Are they worth the hype?
RS - Um, I don’t think so.
JS - The White Stripes are more interesting. You see our interview mascot? Here’s here to make sure things don’t get out of hand.
There was a roadie-type fellow in the corner, not saying much. There was no chance of the interview getting out of hand. Russell had barely spoken, and Jon had given such depressingly short answers that I was almost through all the questions on my hastily written sheet of paper entitled ‘Blues Q’s’. We end up chatting about Manchester and music.
G: Have you been around Manchester much since you’ve been here, or is it just a flying visit?
JS: We’re on tour, so we don’t stay in any one city that long. I have a sister who lives here [She sings with Brassy], so I’ve been over to visit her.
G: What do you think of the place?
JS: Manchester? It’s a beautiful day.
G: It is, yes. How does it compare to New York [where the band live]?
JS: Manchester is a lot more… dirty. Oasis, aren’t they from Manchester?
G: They’re about the worst band to come out of Manchester.
JS: Who’s the best band to come out of Manchester?
G: It depends how far back you go.
JS: The best recent Manchester band, and the best Manchester band of all time?
G: There’s a kind of a role reversal of the interview structure going on here.
JS: Just answer the goddamn question.
G: Okay. Badly Drawn Boy is one of the best in recent times.
JS: Badly Drawn Boy. Okay. And the best Manchester band of all time?
G: Joy Division.

G: You know Joy Division?
JS: Never heard of them.
G: You’re kidding, you’ve never heard of Joy Division? You ought to check out their stuff, it’s very good.

Of course they’ve fucking heard of Joy Division. I am gullible at the best of times, and well, I was feeling a little uncomfortable. Listen to me! ‘You ought to check out their stuff, it’s very good’. Bastards! And I’ve been to New York and it is filthy, and it smells, much more so than Manchester.
G: Anyway, what have you been listening to recently?
JS: Well, lots of Manchester bands. Aren’t The Fall from Manchester?
There is much commotion and applause at the mention of The Fall, who are clearly Blues Explosion favourites. Respect.
JS: And Magazine? And the Buzzcocks?
G: So is there anything that’s not from Manchester that you’ve been listening to recently? Or has your stereo just been choc-a-block with records from Manchester?
JS: I have a whole Manchester section in my record collection.
Later:
G: You’re tough to interview, you know. You don’t talk a lot.
JS: You just caught us on the wrong day. If Ian Curtis was here, would he give a good interview? You know he wouldn’t man. If Ian Cutis were with us… He’d be stinkin’ up the whole fuckin’ room!
About that time, the journalist from Leeds finally arrived to rescue me. Thankfully he found the interview as tough as I did. Predictably, he went over much of the same ground as I had done, and I sat and listened as horror movies and the White Stripes were raised for a second time. I shall just add the following:
L: What was recording this album like?
JS: We had a hell of a nice time. We had a great studio…
L: How long did the songs take to write?
JS: We started writing at the end of the summer, fall of 2000. So most of the songs were written in the fall and winter of 2000. And we got into the studio to start the record around June 2001.
L: Did you watch a lot of horror movies in that time?
JS: Oh, only all my life…
The man from Leeds stalled to think momentarily, and Jon asked to borrow his copy of the NME, and sat reading it for a while. Obviously Jon Spencer eats music journalists for breakfast, not even pausing to think that they might have actually been fans of his music since the tender age of fifteen. Anyway, we ended up chatting half-heartedly about the contents of the NME, about Ficherspooner, Doves, and some band called The Vue. The NME didn’t think all that much to Plastic Fang. I asked Jon if he pays any attention to what that rag says about his band. He laughed in recognition and just said that they look at it, like anybody else. At some point Russell had just got up and walked off. Jackie the tour manager rushed in looking stressed, passed Jon a mobile phone and said ‘BBC Scotland, you’ve got 15 minutes, go!’ and the interview was called to an abrupt end. After that, the gig was a little strange. It was at times very enjoyable, but it was one-dimensional in the extreme. They kicked off with Attack, the fastest and loudest number off Acme (featuring Atari Teenage Riot in its album version), and from then on there was no let-up in their attack. The gig was a relentless barrage of dirty riffs with Jon Spencer’s excellent if overly Elvis-like voice howling over the top. Songs were drowned beneath the noise. There was not a moment of subtlety until the encore, which was the best part, featuring the excellent Sweat and the boogie-some Killer Wolf. But overall, they seemed set to self-destruct.
I suppose, grudgingly, it is admirable not to play the game with the music press, and not to care what they say about you afterwards. But this is Grip magazine, hardly the music press, and I came to the gig with a love for the band which was to a large degree shattered by their undisguised lack of enthusiasm and near-contempt for my presence. Well, Jon, the gig was shite!