Stereophonics are Britain�s biggest band, with the bank balances and celebrity mates to prove it. But when his bandmates told him he was being an �arsehole�, Kelly Jones had to weigh up whether stardom was worth risking friendship for�
EVEN IN the mid-afternoon sunshine, the appearance of glamour is difficult to sustain. Manchester may be a city of such confidence and chutzpah that it would scarcely notice, let alone care, should London�s inner tensions and arrogant air of national supremacy finally cause it to collapse, burning and screaming into the Thames. But Manchester isn�t immune from other things English. Yesterday, the Saturday before last, it was raining hammers and nails to such a degree that the first day of Radio 1�s two day �One Big Weekend� festival, held in the city�s massive and glorious Heaton Park, had to be cancelled. This despite the fact the festival is staged inside a sweltering blue vinyl tent. Today it�s beautiful, but typical, a �festival� on a small and hurried scale. Promoters roam the outer fence cursing the ineptitude of the radio station � for what, I�m not sure � and, this being Manchester, people in Stone Island shirts attempt to scale the park�s spiked steel fences to gain free entry. Old habits and all that; entry to the festival is free.
Inside, heavily made-up women teeter around in short skirts and high heels, even though the condition of the grass is better suited to Lilo and snorkel. In the guest area a lone food van sells chicken wraps for four pound. An empty bar is trying to move cans of Carling lager. From inside the tent � two poles pointing to the sky, steel grills on the ground � Badly Drawn Boy thuds away. The White Stripes will play next, moving from tour bus to stage to tour bus without entering their portakabin dressing room, plates of sandwiches untouched and unnoticed on a trestle table inside. Feeder are up on the stage after them.
And then it�s Stereophonics � the band who took their name from a hi-fi in frontman Kelly Jones� childhood home, the Falcon Stereophonic. Stuart Cable, a man who can be heard before he can be seen, stands outside of his band�s dressing cabin, laughing at his own jokes. He�s wearing a purple cotton long-sleeved T-shirt, blue jeans, cowboy boots and wraparound sunglasses. He has hair that needs to be seen to be believed, His voice resonates like Neil Kinnock�s at the Labour Party Conference. Richard Jones, a man who can be seen before he can be noticed, stands elsewhere, a tattoo of the word �Richard� inked on his neck, should he never forget his name. Kelly Jones stands in the middle of a small crowd, with a face that houses expressionless bar eyes that seem to shine and smile. His (now) jet-black hair hangs down over the sides of his ears,, his height no more than you�d expect, This, according to who you believe, is either a sex symbol or a lucky Luddite with a Gibson guitar and a chip on his shoulder.
But his band stand at the pinnacle of success in the British sense of the term. Over three CD�s they�ve sold six million albums. The Stereophonics are feted and hated in equal measure. They�re back with a new LP, �You Gotta Go There To Come Back�, even though it seems � what with the constant stream of singles from �Just Enough Education To Perform�, their 2.4 million-selling third album � that they�ve never been away. But this evening�s set, before 10,000 people, is their �comeback� performance.
Kelly Jones says that today the band might play some Chas & Dave songs.
SOME PEOPLE need things spelled out for them, which is what a man like Stuart Cable, loud and loveable, seems born to do. The legendary buddy rich once said that you don�t hit a drum, you play it. Stuart Cable might well believe the opposite. When he speaks it�s like being slapped with a brickbat from a sonorous Welsh orator, or a newspaper hawker, a thrombosis voice that moves the marrow in the bones. And while the character of the British is presumed to be one of reserve, for Cable it�s the reverse. Bring it on, he seems to say. Fame, celebrity, all of it. Do your best. Do your worst.
�Last year we sold more concert tickets than Travis, Coldplay or any of those bands,� he says, �People love to hear our music and people love to see us play. We�re a real band and people like that. There are some people in the press that don�t like us, but so what? Who cares about them? They call us meat and potato music, but I don�t care.�
What next?
�World domination!�
This is going like a dream, you think. He really is insane. So I ask Stuart Cable if the Stereophonics are a pub band who got lucky.
The question is met with a clap of the hands and a smile that looks like an ice rink.
�Yeah!� He says, as if this were the most delightful thing he has ever heard.
Both Cable and Richard Jones use the phrase �pub rock� a lot, unaware of, or unconcerned by, its entirely negative connotation. At first I think they�re saying �puck rock� which, even by today�s elastic standards, would be pushing it a bit. But, no, �pub rock�. As in, �we came from the pubs�, if not the pub
Not that Stereophonics belong in the pubs any longer. Because this working class, provincial, traditional rock �n� roll band are both rich and famous. Richard Jones is so laid-back about this that he actually answers my question as to whether or not he�s a millionaire (�on paper, yes�) and hopes that success will breed more of the same, as he�s in the mood for some action (We�re only really big in Britain,� he says, � and it only takes two weeks to tour Britain�). Stuart Cable is even more in love with the idea. At the end of last year, the (formerly married) drummer began dating television presenter Lisa Rogers, who accompanies Stereophonics from Manchester to Ireland for tomorrow night�s show in the glorious setting in the grounds of Dublin Castle. Word filters around the bar of Dublin�s Morrison hotel, along the banks of the River Liffey, that the Welsh tabloid press are �monstering� Cable�s wife, stood on her doorstep with cameras and questions.
Elsewhere, rumours and perceptions of the purified air or celebrity surrounding breezes the band, Stereophonics have reached the point � or at least Kelly Jones has reached the point � where interest from �Hello� magazine might be as keen as It is from Kerrang!. Former Spice Girl Emma Bunton recently features in a woman�s magazine claiming to desire the bones of Kelly Jones (I ask him out on her behalf, he politely declines) and as he walks through the Morrison hotel bar � expensive bottles of bronze cognac, cigars in a humidor case � people know who he is. They ask for autographs, they ask for autographs. Later Rolling Stones rhythm guitarist Ron Wood (the man who played on the original �Handbags And Gladrags�) will watch Stereophonics perform, and sit for after show drinks with the band in a roped off section of the bar. Noel Gallagher is a friend. Jimmy Page is both a friend and a fan. Success is one thing. Fame another. But celebrity is another still.
