"Angry Ant", published in The Herald-Sun (Melbourne), 16 August 2001.
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He's rich and he's famous, but money doesn't buy Jamiroquai's Jay Kay inner calm. He goes off the deep end with DINO SCATENA. IT'S A not-so-typical sunny day in the English countryside. Television chef Jamie Oliver is having a quiet moment to himself, rowing a dingy along the moat. Out back, behind the garages full of more than a dozen prestige automobiles, a little army of worker ants in black T-shirts is doing a last-minute check of the equipment before going back into what their leader calls ``war''. Inside the custom-made studio that has become the rear of the 600-year-old Horsenden Manor, the new-look Jamiroquai is cranking up rehearsals for this weekend's return show, a headline slot in front of 55,000 people at Knebworth '01. The only person missing is the diminutive lord of this manor himself, Jamiroquai the man, Jay Kay. Even though one of his three Ferarris is parked outside the front door, Kay is apparently nowhere to be found here on this $6 million property in Buckinghamshire, 90 minutes north-west of London. But everyone is made well aware of his return. Even before we can see Jay Kay, we hear him loud and clear, losing the plot upon being told that a journalist and a guy from the record company are sitting by the swimming pool. ``I'm not f...ing doing anything for them,'' Kay roars. He goes on to spit-fight obscenities as he yells and rants about how there's a show to do, how he's sold 16 million albums, how he's just given the label the best single of his decade-long career (Little L), along with a brilliant video. And about how he's changed, how his music has changed. How he's going to change the world along with it. And they, the record company, they just don't get it. This goes on for several minutes until Kay tells his band to fire it up and get down to work. Out of nowhere, Kay and the rest of Jamiroquai are in full concert mode, delivering a blistering take on Canned Heat. And apparently this interview is over. As the song ends, Kay is back on it. This time, more specifically, he's crucifying the American side of his company. Suddenly Kay appears down by the pool, dressed only in boardshorts, still ranting and raving, but now he's doing it directly at us. Or, more specifically, anyone who will listen. It's obvious when you see the faces of everyone else here that they're well and truly accustomed to their boss's eccentric ways. ``They'd given up on the last record (1999's Synkronized) in America, and even in England,'' Kay continues without a word of prompting. ``They had really given up. They hadn't promoted it properly, and they'll admit that to you. And obviously that left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I was so confused by it. ``We were on tour and then the last straw for me was going to do a gig in the States, and I don't mind doing small gigs, but if you were doing 1500 people when you first went there in 1993 and suddenly you're doing 800 in a small dive, you're going, `This is stupid'. ``And no one from the record company is bothering to turn up. So you think, well, hold on a minute -- I'm a 16-million-selling artist who's won a Grammy, four MTV awards, a Silver Clef (the international equivalent to APRA's songwriter of the year award). ``You know, they didn't take advantage of that (1996's) Travelling Without Moving Grammy. I would have had posters up: `Grammy-winning!' But I didn't hear a f...ing word about it. For me, they're not sweets, they don't just come around -- who'll guarantee that I'll ever win another Grammy to get that much limelight? ``So I said, `Right, f... this, we're going to start this project again'. Everyone was getting tired of playing the same stuff, everyone was getting lazy, moaning about things. ``I mean, f... me, we go around the world, travel business class, put up in hotels, getting nice food, getting taken out. You'd want to remember what it was like back when we were sharing rooms, staying in dives, doing it all like that. ``After a while it was like, `Why am I doing this for these guys, giving them points, bits of publishing?' '' By this time, several things are obvious. Jay Kay hasn't let anyone else get a word in edge-ways. And yes, he's totally loopy, but in the most endearing way. (He goes on to tell us about the Green Lady who haunts his house, and how several of his prophecies -- such as human cloning -- have come true). Oh, and we think the interview has actually started, Jay Kay having already conveniently and methodically brought us up to date, right to the release on the new single, Little L (out this week), and Jamiroquai's fifth album, A Funk Odyssey (due September 3). Kay says both works are typical of the more honest and introspective approach he's taken with his lyrics for A Funk Odyssey. ``It's a much more honest album. Synkronized was just hard. I had a lot of trouble. I didn't know what I wanted to write about. And I was angry. Canned Heat was an angry song. It was to tell Stuart (Zender, his ex-bassist, who left Jamiroquai acrimoniously back in 1998) in a way: `Now I've got Canned Heat in my heels, I'm f...ing angry, now I'm going to show you'. ``With this album, I wanted to have more fun with it. I didn't want to get too political, too much social commentary -- I just wanted to have some fun with it. Because, let's face it, people have had too much of my doom and gloom -- I'm a bit of an armageddon fellow.'' Kay adds that the only song on A Funk Odyssey which isn't fun is the openly and directly confessional ballad, Pictures of My Life. ``That's just about the fact that I f...ed myself up a little bit with too much drugs and I had to stop: `I never had a dream that I could follow through. Why don't you f...ing finish what you're doing?' That's what I'm trying to say: why do you always have to spoil it? ``It's very simple, straight to the point. I sat down one day and went, right, I'm going to write an honest song. And I wrote what was in my heart -- bang, bang, bang. It's just one big f...ing comedown. ``But hey, I've got through it. And I'm fit and healthy and running and fighting fit again. Because I went to the doctor and he said: `Do you want to do this or do you want to do that? Do you want to sing or do you want to do that? Do you want to end up like all these other people?' ``When you've got a career as good as mine, you don't want to spoil it. No way.'' There's even a song about this country estate, another ballad titled Corner of the World, in which Kay sings: `This corner of the world is like me in many ways'. ``Because I just suit it,'' he explains. ``I've put my vibe into it, I've put my soul inside it. I've slowly tried to get it back to some kind of former glory. ``And it is like me. I'm calm and peaceful. There are two sides to me. One is the stage Jamiroquai and the other one is the dreamer. I could walk out there all day and do nothing. It's calm and peaceful and quiet.'' The music from the studio blares on cue. ``Except when that sh..'s going on,'' Kay says with a laugh. ``You've seen how many people are here today and it's like, this is my home! You know what I mean? It's like, hello, kids -- time to go now. Playtime is over. I don't want to play any more.'' Ballads aside, A Funk Odyssey has a heavier electronic feel than previous efforts, as the beats flowing from the studio confirm. ``I wanted something more aggressive,'' Kay says. ``Virtual Insanity isn't an aggressive track. I wanted to get away from all that and get more dancey, more boogie, but without it being the Chemical Brothers. That's not our bag. We're still a live band. ``It's going to go,'' he enthuses, now up and dancing. ``Great grooves. ``It's a real nice mixture of the acid and the funk and the rock. That's how I wanted it.'' Suddenly Kay starts ranting again. ``I'm going to have their a..es.! You're going to dance, whether you want to or not! ``You're dancing!'' A Funk Odyssey (Sony) out September 3. Little L out now.
