BCR: So, not keeping to templates and playing with the traditional structure?
JC: Yeah, and it’s also the mood. The musical formula isn’t the problem because you can use that and put your personality into it. Our songs are fairly formulaic but you can put enough of your own self into it.
HH: It’s like that guy who wanted to photograph us. He said your gigs are like a car crash. They’re really scary and he wanted to photograph us lying dead in a crash. He was trying to get that across.
JackC: As long as there’s one person in the audience who’s come away a bit flummoxed and enjoyed themselves. Not for the sake of being cuntbags and confusing people but being entertaining. Taking it as far as you can with everyone on board.
BCR: That’s good, it’s appreciating the fact that you have an audience and a lot of bands don’t do that.
HH: There’s this band called Joyrides and they’re really fucking good. They’re all about seventeen and they got up on stage and said we’re Joyrides and we have no idea what we’re doing!
JackC: They’d lost their keyboardist and recruited one of their mates. They were our only audience, about five kids and it was amazing. We just played a bunch of new songs that we didn’t really know and it was the most fun.
HH: That’s the thing, we’d been playing gigs, two gigs a week and we got a bit too polished
JackC: Well, not polished, just bored.
HH: Yeah, just bored. And that night we were like, fuck it. And all twenty people were just, yeah! Joe made them all sit down and then tried to sell them biros.
JC: We did a wedding gig once and just played to four year olds. It’s was wonderful. We’d done a gig the night before on mushrooms and we were still in that state of mind. And there were all these kids. I just pretended to be a big monster and we played sex songs to a bunch of four year olds. It was just brilliant.
JackC: If a bunch of toddlers can get it as far as I’m concerned that’s it. They’re just, these people are having fun, so will I.
JC: We played one gig with a ten year old drummer…
HH: There’s this place called Frestonia which was declared an independent state in the seventies by a load of Hippies. We did their thirty year anniversary, we were in this weird tent and there was this little kid who half way through the set came up and starting playing the drums with Ed.
Trimble becomes a little too excited
WD: I think a lot of our appeal is the live act. I think that’s the main thing about us. Because I saw them live and didn’t remember any of the music afterwards and I was just like, that was cool! That was really, really good. I wanted to use some of the live footage we’ve filmed for a clip video.
JC: Has he told you about his feature film?
WD: Well, I made a short film about a killer penis. It’s been to film festivals around the world. The willy cost £3000.
BCR: You spent £3000 on a penis?
HH: Haven’t we all?
BCR: I’ve never spent £3000 on a penis.
JC: You get what you pay for. This one is three foot and gold. And an amazing chef.
BCR: Well, he’s cheap – why don’t you get him to do your next video?
JC: That’s true, he is cheap. But he’s very hard to work with, he’s a bit of a Nazi.
SE: A Jewish Nazi!?
JC: You can’t call a Jew a Nazi can you? That’s nasty.
WD: You should only call Jews Nazis.
JC: Ok, you Nazi Jew.
BCR: Well, as you all make the music together you have to be pretty democratic.
T: You’d think so. You make it sound so simple.
SE: It’s an army. You’ve got the generals, me and Trimble are the foot soldiers.
BCR: That’s an odd army, you’ve got a Catholic, a Protestant, a Nazi-Jew…
JC: And I’m a Zoroastrian. It’s an ancient Persian religion.
As time trundled on for BCR and The Guillotines it became clear that I was not going to make it out sober. So, we continued into the night with abandon, dancing in the streets, becoming totem pole saxophone maestros outside The Foundry in Old Street until eventually the bar became weary and home beckoned. If the live show is anything like a night out with The Guillotines (which I assure you it is, dear readers) you shouldn’t miss them.
