The Tygers: In Short...

To see the abridged - squashed by word count - interview with Robb Weir, please visit and support the Yorker: www.theyorker.co.uk/arts

Thank you

J

Tygers of Pan Tang: Interview with Robb Weir 18/02/12

Image Credit: Noel Buckley

 First letting the Tyger out age 14, I sit down with founder Robb Weir before their gig at Selby Riverside…

It’s been more than three decades since Whitley Bay’s Tygers of Pan Tang roared into mainstream consciousness with their debut album ‘Wild Cat’; ironically of course, the band was initially ignorant of the now-revered NWOBHM [New Wave of British Heavy Metal] movement, of which Sounds magazine championed them as front-runners. Over the coming years the band began their ascent – supporting the likes of Magnum and the Scorpions – with numerous singles entering the mid-reaches of the UK charts. But ultimately, disputes with MCA and a general lack of interest from rival labels saw a frustrated quartet fade from view, and never quite manage to claw their way back. 

A cross-country bus journey to the Yorkshire shipbuilding town of Selby may seem a strange way to begin a night of rock n roll ecstasy, but these days it is the Selby Riverside and headline slots at Cambridge Rock Festival rather than the more prestigious Hammersmith Odeon. Regardless, sitting down with founder, guitarist and mainstay Robb Weir, he reflects somewhat philosophically on his three decades as a Tyger, retaining an infectious passion despite having resigned to the 9 to 5 of day-to-day life. “Rock n roll is a disease; one that gets into your blood and you cannot get rid of it” he muses. Something we agreed upon was that to those on the outside, it is difficult to understand; why these people are “so zombified by rock n roll”. With wonderful Geordie humour, he offers a belly-laugh – pointing to me “…and you’re doomed for life!” The band certainly like to keep themselves busy, packing in a wealth of shows at the tail end of last year, continuing into the summer – “we’re headlining a festival in Spain, then over to France in October, in the summer its SOS Festival, the Upton Festival and Cambridge Rock – we headlined there last year and Simon [manager] got a call asking us back”. A local boy myself, Robb and I shared our love for the university town’s summer in rock; a more family-oriented event then its peers, Weir relishes the opportunity to introduce the Tygers’ catalog to a new generation. Inking a deal with Rocksector last year, in this very bar, Weir and co. have been bashing away in the studio; working hard on the follow-up to 2009’s excellent ‘Animal Instinct’. Hooking up with Grammy-nominated producer Chris Tsangarides – whom produced ‘Wildcat’ and ‘Spellbound’ in the 80s – backstage at ‘Bang Your Head’ in Germany, the Tygers have been shuttling to gigs via the Ecology Rooms in Dover. “I’ve got to tell you, this album – and we’re biased of course – could have or should have been made 25 years ago, each song is better than the last” says Weir, fixing me with wide-eyed excitement.

Now in post-production, to add the frilly bits such as obligatory reversed snares and “the old-fashioned stuff”, 'Anbush' [released September 25th] could well put the Tygers on the map again. Quizzing Weir on the band’s approach to song writing today, he concedes that “we’ve reverted back to what we’re best at, our drummer [Craig Ellis] is forever looking for a groove and Jac [Meille, singer] puts his vocals down effortlessly”. 2004’s ‘Noises From the Cathouse’ attempted to ‘go modern’, a decision the guitarist now has mixed feelings about – “I’m probably to blame for that one, but it didn’t work; technology can help you, but can’t write songs for you”. For this tour, the set-list spans the entirety of their catalog plus a song from the forthcoming release; ‘Keepin’ Me Alive’. Weir holds his hands up, admitting favouritism for older material; “we’ve done our homework, that’s what a lot of the European fans want to hear – there’s only so much you can play in 90 minutes. We’re not a 2 hour band.” As for the classics, they have evolved naturally with line-up changes and fresher sound technologies; beefed up and “fed a couple of raw steaks”.

The band remains symptomatic of that fertile period in the late 70s that would become immortalised as the New Wave of British Heavy Metal – Weir’s ‘blues in A’ riff approach that has made AC/DC millionaires is still the spine of their music, and it still hasn't gotten old. I could hardly resist the opportunity to delve into the band’s history; one that started in the Weir family home, Whitley Bay in the early 1970s. At odds with the typical rock n roll epiphany, the young Robb Weir began has guitar journey with a lowly slab of wood straight from the junk shop. “My old man was a doctor, and he walked past the place on his way home; one day, when I was 11 or 12 he brought in this nylon-strung acoustic that had been painted in camouflage”. Unsure what to do with his new acquisition he began bashing away, not even knowing how to hold the instrument. “Then I thought, ‘why don’t I try to do something with this?’, so I went into the lounge with a radiogram – the dads will know what I’m on about – with an old Slade record, put the needle in the groove  and tried to find the notes that matched what I heard; that’s how I taught myself”. Reflecting with near-romantic vigor, Weir’s first group Trick still brings a smile to the guitarist’s face; together with Weir’s Slade and Quo influence, there was a Crusaders-loving bassist, fresh out of Jesus Christ Superstar; a skiffle drummer affectionately named ‘Fat Eric’ and a punk-worshipping lead singer. “I wish footage existed, because it was a hell of mix. When Eric played his drums, because he was big chap, his kit would get further away from him throughout the gig. He’d then have to stop and gather it all up again! [laughs]”. 

When Trick disbanded, Weir met Richard ‘Rocky’ Laws through an ad placed in the Newcastle University. A common misconception is that the NWOBHM was entirely a reaction to the punk scene, but for the Tygers and others, it was happening simultaneously. Taking their name from Michael Moorcock’s Wizards of Pan Tang, Weir and Rocky hooked up with Brian Dick [drums] and began rehearsing – alternating between covers and early Weir-penned originals ‘Fireclown’, ‘Suzie Smiled’ and ‘Slave to Freedom’. “We started going to shows together, and were really influenced by Rush in terms of the ‘power trio’ thing; we’d go home and crank out our riffs, Brian would put his groove down and we started playing our own shows”. Adding vocalist Jess Cox, the band gigged heavily around Newcastle, occasionally venturing out Def Leppard’s stomping ground in Sheffield, blissfully unaware of the wider movement they were considered to be a part of; “I wasn’t buying ‘Sounds’, so when we were cited as front-runners to this NWOBHM thing, it was a surprise”. Now 33 years since their debut single for Neat Records, ‘Don’t Touch Me There’ is held as a staple of the period and something of a cult classic in rock and metal circles. The 7” vinyl - featuring two boogie rockers a la Quo/UFO and the Rush-inflected closer – marked the band’s first trip to a professional studio; thinking of my own copy nestled away at home, my interest in those sessions was finally appeased thanks to Robb’s candid memories. “I was bewildering; we’d never seen a studio before. It was an old cinema and they’d cannibalised the front end. The studio was at the top of several flights of stairs, with an area we assumed was where you could have cup of tea!” House engineer Micky Sweeney dug the band’s sound, when he would invite them into the control room to listen back, Weir could barely contain his excitement; “it was like, ‘bloody hell, is that us?’”. True enough, as most band members never get to experience being on the other side of the fence, as it were; “it was wonderful to have a recording that was ours”. The original Neat release is now worth a handsome dime, however, when London came into the picture, deals were done and MCA repressed the single; the Tygers played the Lyceum in early 1980 with NWOBHM stalwarts Praying Mantis and a still-unsigned Iron Maiden to their biggest audience yet.

It would not be far wrong to argue that clashes with their label had actually been evident at this early stage. Having snapped up Iron Maiden, EMI advanced them £100,000, Def Leppard got a quarter of a million from, and “we got twenty-five grand from MCA – the richest company in the world, so the others had the edge on us”. But a few months later, Weir approached the record executives about a support slot that could well have altered the course of history for the band. Van Halen were playing a serious of high profile dates and were in need of an opening act, duty-bound, Robb inquired. “There is nothing funnier than the looks the office clerks gave me as I walked through in my denims; ‘please Mr management-type person, sir…’ but it was no use, the studio was booked”. ‘Wildcat’ would enter the charts at a respectable #18, but Weir still kicks himself about it today. Moreover, gripes escalated following the release of third album 'Crazy Nights'; while the album contained some of the band's strongest material, it felt rushed and suffered from lacklustre production. Scoring a hit with a cover of the Clovers' 'Love Potion No.9', MCA pressed the band to record music credited to outside song writers. For Weir this was beyond the pale; "We'd written a batch of tunes that we were really proud of, and they dropped that one on us...", it was the beginning of a downward spiral that would culminate in the line-up dissolving in 1982.

Drawing our interview to a close, the affable Mr Weir continues to hold high regard for those early years as I ask my final question – how much of an affirmation is it that the NWOBHM is still so widely discussed the context of rock history? For the guitarist, the scene must have had considerable impact in the first place for it to remain; “it’s a bit like a bomb crater; you can still go and visit it and no one has managed to fill it over so it must have been pretty damn deep when the bomb went off! People are still talking about it and playing it, and here we are, the Tygers are larger than life!”

I would again like to thank Robb Weir for giving me his time and enthusiasm to this article; it certainly isn't easy for a wannabe journalist to be taken seriously. I would also like to say a big thank you to the Tygers of Pan Tang for the years of pleasure they have given me, and for a barnstorming set on saturday night; the roof of the Riverside will never be the same again. 

Cheers lads, have a drink on me. See you in Cambridge.    J 

And Also the Trees - Interview with Justin and Simon-Huw Jones

It should be noted that this interview is entirely unedited; how it was recorded at the time. The edited version appeared in an article for the Yorker which is sadly no longer available due to a change in website IP address.


And Also the Trees still hold a passionate following throughout Europe and America after three decades of music. Frequently eluding the mainstream press, notoriously shunning the limelight and frequently burning and rebuilding their musical bridges, their unique brand of pastoral electric-folk rock continues to put open-minded music followers under its spell. Frequently plagued with the 'Goth' label - perhaps due to their linkage with alternative rock legends the Cure - the band have nonetheless ploughed their own furrows, traversed the tag and continue to draw influence from everything from Celtic folk, baroque and flamenco to romantic pop and even cocktail jazz. 

For an insignificant wannabe journalist such as myself, this interview was certainly a blessing.

I guess I'll start from the beginning...

1. Growing up in a village such as Inkberrow - an upbringing I wholly

empathise with - how did you become interested in music, and later, how

easy was it to book shows as a fledgling band?

Justin - We had older brothers and sisters who were I suppose pretty much the first generation of teenagers, that is to say they were exposed to youth culture that hadn't really existed before in history. These were people who were listening to bands of the 60's as they happened, so we came along in the second wave. We just happened to be around and interested in music that bridged that interesting period between the late 60s and the late 70s. I suppose it was an important time in music, lots happened in a decade and being a teenager whilst the New Wave happened was tremendously exciting. Even if you were stuck at the bottom of a hill in the middle of the English countryside.

Simon and I thought it would be a good idea to start making music when I was about 13 and he was a bit older. You didn't need to be able to play instruments with any proficiency in 1978, or at least that is what we understood. So we started a band with our friends who were also brothers. We were terrible of course, but I suppose coming at everything from a different angle and that is what must have ultimately shaped the way AATT turned out. We were outsiders, people treated us with suspicion in the village, they always did. We were known as [adopts old worcester accent] "them Jones brothers down the 'ill, them's weird them are thems only eats rice".

Not many people played guitars back then, just old heavy rock bands here and there. We played pubs in villages and towns with our own home made amplifiers, speaker cabs and a chip board PA that we made. We didn't have the money to buy decent gear and frankly wouldn't have known a quality amp or guitar if it spoke to us. I still have the same guitar I had then. Can't find a better sounding one. Its probably superstitious but I think I will always use it, I found out it was made the same year as me, only in Germany.

2. Between Simon and yourself, you have wonderfully unique approaches to your respective instruments - your guitar-playing has at times evoked

Pentangle's Bert Jansch for me. Simon's lyrics whispering Samuel Coleridge - what inspired your particular styles?

Simon - Well, not the romantic poets at all actually - I'd say I was inspired most of all by the combination of Justin's music and my surroundings. Dylan Thomas' poetry and prose moves me and has done for a long time... I am influenced by most books that I read and films that I see, and I suppose I've been influenced by certain artists and artistic movements. The bands singers that I have never tired of are - The doors, Bowie (up to a point), early Roxy music, Tom Waits, Scott Walker.  From that period when AATT I'd say my favorites are Joy division. Who out of that lot has influenced my style is hard to say.

Justin  - Don't know much about Bert Jansch. I will look him up.

To be honest I don't really know where influences came from. I don't have any particular guitar favourites. Possibly Pete Townsend, he had a lovely way of moving from major to minor and telling stories with music, so did Arthur Lee's Love. I think musically soundtrack composers from the 1960's had the most effect on me. I think a lot of it is to do with dynamics and tension builds and release with oddities , lots of oddities.

3. Your initial relationship with the Cure, so I'm told, came from sending

Robert a home demo tape. Was this on whim, or had you had prior contact?

What connections did this relationship afford you?

Justin  -  No that was just a naive idea that this was the way the industry worked, you send a tape to someone, they like it and then you play live together. Oddly that's the way it worked out.

I'm still in touch with Smith, going to see his band next week funnily enough.

We toured England/Scotland together a couple of times (maybe 3 times)  in 1980-1984. It helped us a bit in the UK but not enough to get a record deal at that time and so its difficult to gauge what real effect it had especially in mainland europe where we work more than anywhere.

We always got on well with them (the Cure) I think they liked us being outsiders and in some ways living a parallel existence of obscurity. They wrote great pop songs, we certainly didn't, we had something in common though as I say, maybe just that we are in the 'black lodge', and they have been stars.

4. Obviously, being 21 means I never got to 'grow up' with the band, but I could argue that you 'found your sound' (apologies for the cliche) with 'A

Room Lives in Lucy', continuing through to 'The Millpond Years'. Was there a collective sense that the EP and subsequent albums were particularly special?

Simon: What was special about it, looking back, was probably the feeling that we'd developed our own musical personality... we felt alone, like outsiders, and in its own way that was quite exciting... as well as being a hinderance and a bit of a burden.

5. American, and in particular, European audiences seemed to share a deep connection with the music; why do you think this was?

Simon: We have talked a length, often, about why we are more popular in certain places than others and have never come up with a satisfactory conclusion. It is certainly affected by media exposure and how frequently we play in places, but there is probably more to it than that.

6. Your 90s releases such as 'the Klaxon' and 'Angelfish' saw a slight shift in direction for the band's sound. Was this a natural development or something that you were keen to try out?

Justin  -  It was by and large a conscious decision to take a different road, we felt we had explored  that particular direction enough and got interested in a group of different influences through Art, Music and Film we thought we would go on a different journey. It was good to do it at the time, although we alienated the majority of our audience who didn’t understand what the hell we were doing. Typically AATT business suicide.

7. The five year break between 1998 and the release of 'Further From the Truth' seemed to fuel rumours of the bands demise. After nearly two decades of hard work, was it simply the desire to take a much-needed rest? What did you do to keep occupied during this period?

Justin  - Well we moved away from our nerve centre and no longer lived in the same country, let alone county. It was impossible (or so we thought) to continue as we had been. I remember thinking after a couple of years of living in London, away from everyone, that it would be interesting to resume the journey. We never dissolved or split or anything like that, just paused. If there was a will there would be a way.

8. How much of an affirmation is it to you that in a medium as ephemeral as 'the music world' people still hold your music with such regard and that younger people like myself can get such joy out it?

Simon: It helps a great deal. That's about all I can say on it, really.

9. 'When the Rains Come' and the subsequent acoustic tour displayed a new side to the band. What were your motivations behind reinventing the sound in this way?

Simon: It happen almost by mistake as we were kind of pushed into playing a live acoustic show on a Parisienne rooftop by a great bloke called Damien who was organizing acoustic gigs on his terrace. He knew our music well and was very persuasive and together. So we played one night on a night off on tour and it went very well. We'd never done anything like it before, particularly Justin and I, and we felt a great feeling of liberation in the knowledge that we could actually perform anywhere we liked - with no electricity if necessary, and there was a closeness about the performances that was very special too. A closeness within the band and also with the audiences. And then the reworking of the songs was very enjoyable and rewarding too.   

10. With a new album on the way, what does the future hold for the band? Do you still have the feelings and motivations about making music now as you did in the 1980s?

Justin  - Actually it seems a bit harder to create something of worth. Strangely having members drop out of the band in some ways has made a potentially negative situation bring about unexpected results. You work in a new way as we did on the last (electric) record, that has been pleasing. But knowing you already made 11 or how ever many albums we have made now, makes me aware that I have perhaps already done everything I could have done.

I still don’t think we have ever made a really ‘good’ record, we are better live.

Not having been able to ever ‘pin down’ a record makes it strangely elusive, attractive, and sort of addictive

Van Halen - 'A Different Kind of Truth'

The first album in 28 years from Van Halen’s classic line-up presented me with a serious conflict of interests; the spokespeople for every scrawny hormonal teenager, it was Eddie Van Halen’s schizophrenic, mind-melting playing that shook me into life as a wannabe guitar god. This was what I had been waiting for since I hi-jacked the P.A. system at a school disco and treated my peers to a rafter-shaking Hot for Teacher. So as the record sat on my desk in its glossy cellophane wrapping, the fact that it could be a disappointment really got me.
'A Different Kind of Truth' is the first full-length collection since the dregs of 1998’s 'Van Halen III' – a bland, wholly-average AOR package fronted by Extreme’s Gary Cherone. As David Lee Roth put it, the band’s “heard you missed us, we’re back!” album is not only the one of the most long-awaited rock reunions since Led Zep’s triumphant return at the O2 in 2007, it is – for all intents and purposes – a proper Van Halen record. Essentially based on demos made in the 70s, we’re thrown back to the walls of fuzzy, goofball guitars and shameless innuendos that so influenced gawky mop-tops like me to strap on their axes in the first place. Having unplugged the synthesizers that plagued their 80s releases, what we have here is a strong and cohesive collection of rockers; fully unhinged, Eddie and drumming brother Alex positively leap from the speakers. Sonically, we are closer to '1984' and 'Van Halen II' than Sammy Hagar era works such as '5150' – that said, this is no 'Diver Down' of course, but then we don’t need it to be.

Van Halen on their last tour ©Wikicommons

If Eddie Van Halen first described his band as ‘the sound of Godzilla waking up’, then the monster is very much alive, chomping merrily on the power lines. 'Big River' and 'Blood and Fire' are as strong as anything they put out in the 70s – the production, while beefed up thanks to modern recording techniques, is significantly raw to appease the balding members of their fan base. Lead single 'Tattoo' has been in circulation for a month now but still hits the spot. However, it is 'Stay Frosty' – hidden towards the tail-end – that is the true showstopper. A typically humorous country pastiche soon descends into some searing metal riffs, all the while Eddie’s licks do battle with Roth’s vocal chords; it’s a real masterclass in tune-craft, technical ability and the fine art of the Van Halen song. Tied up with Chickenfoot – a supergroup also featuring Hagar – bassist Michael Anthony’s shoes are filled creditably by Eddie’s son Wolfgang; though the missing the former’s grungy touch, his precision nonetheless provides a spunky rhythmic pulse. Meanwhile, the return of Diamond Dave is a welcome one, for while Sammy Hagar – Roth’s long-term replacement – easily possessed a wider vocal range, he lacked the hammy charisma and tongue-in-cheek humour that Roth still has in spades. No other self-respecting human could pull off such cornball one-liners as “looking like the city towed my other apartment”, and while he may have lost one or two high notes, the “stone-cold sister soccer moms” he chases in ‘Honeybabysweetiedoll’ probably prefer him this way.
Yes, this is very much a trip down memory lane. It was very much intended that way; a lesson that Axl Rose could do with making notes on. I ask you this – would you rather have the comeback album that should have been, revelling in what they do best, or the ramblings of veteran rockstars in dealing with the modern world?