Back to Graham ArticlesGraham Coxon, The Sky Is Too High
Blur's no-longer-teetotal guitarist cuts a fine solo album - in just five days - for his own imprint. Fear not, he's still with the band!
IT WAS inevitable that, sooner or later, one of Britpop's major players would attempt a full-length solo project. Strange, really, that it's taken this long to happen. But in the noble tradition of bashful sidemen turning gifted frontmen - George Harrison, Dave Davies, Carl Wilson - Graham Coxon has finally shuffled out from under the wing of his paymasters to reveal his own exceptional songwriting talent. To some, this isn't a complete surprise. Last year, Graham's first ever composition, a scuzzy lo-fi ballad called You're So Great, all surface crackle and slide guitar, proved to be one of the highlights of Blur's eponymous fifth album. Such was its so-sad delivery and ruffled innocence you wondered why Coxon didn't do this writing thang more often.
Mostly written during his 12 months of sobriety following Blur's much-publicised near break-up in 1996, this subsequent material is well up to You're So Great's standard. You can hear the aching acid beauty of Syd Barrett, the fuzz-pedal insanity of Sonic Youth, the moody decadence of John Coltrane; in fact, all of Graham's early inspirations. Sometimes grunge-infected (That's All I Wanna Do), often acoustic, pastoral and folky (R U Lonely), occasionally pure plunk rock (Who The Fuck?), the overall result is a beautiful, schizophrenic record, a collision of influences, continents and contrasting mental states. Sobriety never sounded so good.
Pat Gilbert chews the fat with Graham Coxon.
Why the torrent of songs?
"There was nothing in my life at that time. No relationships. We were getting to the end of our tethers [in Blur], we'd toured 25 countries in nine months. I decided to stop drinking and smoking. Keith Richards or Depeche Mode might think 'You poofter!', but we did it without heroin or Jack Daniel's. You couldn't play our stuff if you were into hard drugs. you could be in Oasis and be a drug addict. All you have to do is stand there and play C, F and G. It's fucking easy!"
So did sobriety make you more creative?
"Well, I'd go to the pub, have two pints of Coca-Cola and a game of pool, and get so bored I'd be home by 8:30,; then I'd play around with my guitar and all these things came out. I don't think of them as songs - like Syd Barrett's Golden Hair isn't a song. My stuff is mumbo-jumbo put to misc. It's not like there's anything on it as good as Waterloo Sunset."
Why hadn't you written before?
"I put things off for years. I can put off buying bread or milk for a month, even though I know I have to get them at some point. That's what it always felt like with songwriting."
Was the album recorded on a home studio?
"Fuck no! When I go home I don't want to find a fucking studio! I want comfy chairs! I live in Camden, and it's hard enough to get away from all the scenesters and music in general without having a fucking mixing desk at home! You need a proper engineer - one who's nice and modest, but also perverse. Mine wears women's underwear and likes strange noises."
Some of the stuff's got a quite savage, misanthropic edge.
"(Angrily) What? Like I don't like women?! How d'you mean?"
You're thinking of 'misogynistic'!
"Oh yeah (laughs)."
What do the rest of Blur think of the album?
"Damon's been very supportive. I haven't played it to the others yet."
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