Chapter Text
They say fame changes people, and it’s certainly done the business for Nine While Nine. They had a frankly amateurish start, which the band — vocalist/lyricist/style guru Harrow Nova, bassist/actual performer Gideon Nav and guitarist/composer Ortus Nigenad — prefer not to discuss in public, or at all. Since then they’ve lurched from strength to strength on the university circuit, toured with the Saints, had their first outings in Europe, and topped the indie charts with ‘Pray It Sleeps’ on their return home. I set out on a night’s reconnaissance before the blitzkrieg, and found the Nines chilling out in Deansgate. It’s hostile territory, On The Eighth Day’s home turf, where they’ve had some rotten reviews and, as such, come out swinging.
Nova: I don’t mind being vilified by someone who’s paying attention. What I can’t bear is the ones who don’t scrape themselves off the bar all night, and consequently never behold us, failing to apprehend — or even notice — what makes what they’re hearing tonight different from what they heard last night. Death is too good for pondlife of that nature.
Nav: Right. If you just want to hear the record played really loud you can get that at home. Sometimes things don’t work — if the Body’s not behaving, or the lights aren’t right, or I’ve had to step on a few too many fingers that night — but that’s “the atmosphere,” yeah?
Nigenad: The point is, we’re making the effort. You should too.
Not to harp on about this — I am sympathetic, I promise — but don’t you think the atmosphere you rely on is just beyond recovery after too much of that?
Nova: We are not at our best in broad daylight. Or in a shopping centre. Or in a glorified dining room. And yet people insist on scheduling us in these environments. I will not be blamed for their inadequacies.
Nav: Gigs like that are pure slapstick. We treat ‘em accordingly.
Which is weird considering… how can I put this… your songs aren’t exactly funny. ‘Doomy’, maybe.
Nigenad: ‘Doomy’ — that’s a housewives’ word. The songs are ironic. There is a joke in there — in the exaggerated rock-n-roll of it all. It’s all to do with the dialectic of cynicism, which is going to take a lot longer than an hour to explain to you…
Nova: And you don’t have that kind of time, especially not if you’re going to waste what time we do have asking boring questions about who we are and where we’re from. We’ve already answered them and they’re largely immaterial — in the sense that yes, we’re a Leeds band, but we don’t want to say so over and over again.
You still see yourselves as part of that scene?
Nigenad: It’s a good place to be from. It’s still where the band is from. It’s still where we all live.
Nav: Sometimes I feel like we’ve pulled the ladder up behind us a bit, but…
Nigenad: Be fair. We wouldn’t sign any local bands to Ninth House because they’re all doing a bad impression of us, these days.
But you’ll sign the likes of Doctor Sex, whatever the hell that was about?
Nav: In the spirit of pure slapstick, sure! C’mon, you can’t accuse us of being no fun and put us on the spot for that record.
Nova: Whatever else the good doctor is, he is not an impressionist.
Nav: We’ve just sort of outgrown playing at home. It’s always been the problem; there’s no big venue there, no decent studio. It’s like playing at the bottom of a well, and everyone you’re trying to reach is at the top end looking down at you. You need a better — or at least a bigger — space to play around in.
So, what does a better place look like?
Nigenad: Not London. London’s worse than home — the fancy dress brigade fill out the front row every night. We get a better class of audience in Europe. It turns out the Swedes have a high capacity for a good time — who knew?
Nav: I like LA; in LA there’s a good shot at ‘fancy dress’ being ‘bondage gear.’ Osaka has the best hotels though. Because of the bondage gear.
Nova: Anywhere with a bar that stays open all night, anywhere they put us on facing the sea, especially if the sun’s going down when we turn our lights on. Those are the only shows I really enjoy: singing over people’s heads into the ocean. We should do that more often.
Big gigs or small?
Nova: Small crowds are horribly intimate. The bigger the audience, the more distance there is — the more space in which everyone involved can lose themselves a bit. That’s very much part of the appeal — for me as well.
Nav: I still like smaller shows. Not everywhere, but — the thing about playing to the hard core is they already know you, it’s like you can skip the five weeks of going to the pictures before you stick your hand up their shirts.
Nigenad: I’d like to formally distance myself from that metaphor.
Nova: I’d like to point out this band is not that much of a cheap date.
The Nine While Nine sound, of course, has definitely evolved. Is that another factor? Something like ‘Pray It Sleeps’ is a bit big for a function room.
Nav: It was punk rock at first. Punk rock that had been to public school. But you can’t keep mashing out the same three chords forever. Most bands that get out there start wanking around, overplaying it: we’re more…
Nova: I’d say ‘elegant’ but nothing involving you is ever ‘elegant.’
Nigenad: ‘Austere,’ maybe? I mean, ‘Pray It Sleeps’, that’s still a rock song, it’s just more controlled — more cerebral, even if it’s going full pelt it’s thinking about what it’s doing. There’s no need for big elaborate solos, it’s not heavy metal. Every note in that riff is doing the work.
There’s a lot of God in your early songs, and in your choice of covers. Are you religious?
Nav: Ortus isn’t. I was raised Catholic but it didn’t stick. Harrow… she has an apostle complex.
Nova: My parents had an apostle complex, in that they were convinced they would conceive one. I still believe in God, but I’m not entirely sure he believes in me.
It’s interesting to me that ‘Cytherea’ — which was pretty transparent — and now ‘Pray It Sleeps’ are both songs about girls…
Nova: I don’t see why male singers should have a monopoly on that kind of yearning. It’s not an exclusively masculine experience, and someone like me being on stage and expressing that — sometimes people find themselves in the space we create, even if they don’t necessarily like what they find.
Obviously you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but…
Nova: She was very tall, very remote, and not very interested in talking, and it never went anywhere because I’m not exactly… I need to be asked.
Nav: Whereas I’ll talk your entire ass off given half a chance.
Nova: Your capacity for opening your mouth and letting your belly rumble is infinite, yes.
Nav: You need some talking back or it just ain’t rock’n’roll. And at least two of us are adamant that this is rock’n’roll.
Nova: I’m not going to get on stage and say ‘we’re not a rock band’ because that’s patently not true. I just have a different ethic.
Nav: It’s true, readers: Harrow Nova does not, in fact, rock out with her cock out.
Nova: Never talk about cocks in my presence again.
Once the band have recovered their dignity: the European dates included “Nona’s back garden.” What’s that about?
Nova: Nona is part of our fan club, and she wrote to us and asked if we’d play her fifteenth birthday party. Under normal circumstances we would never have done this, but someone wanted cake.
Nav: Someone wasn’t the one who said “it’s on the way and we have two rest days, we can make it.” Someone didn’t ring her up and say “hello Nona, I hope your mother is OK with this, because your house will smell like dry ice for a month.”
Nova: In any case: it’s in the official discography because it was an official show, as much as we could do that in suburban Hamburg. Smoke, lights, PA, in Nona’s back garden, to an audience of six children, three adults and a dog named Noodle. I hope she’s still dining out on it. We intend to.
What’s next? More birthdays, weddings and bar mitzvahs?
Nova: We are working toward an album, inter alia. We have about ten very good tunes, largely because I let Ortus write them all this time, and about two lyrics that aren’t utter gibberish. Give me three months and we’ll be in a position to go back in and finish the job. October to record, November to release.
Nav: Christmas number one.
Nigenad: Housewives’ choice.
Nova: I take it back. This isn’t a rock band. This is a creche. I am working with infants.
Nigenad: I’m thirty-seven, and I’m the only person in this band who could buy the drinks in California. She’s not joking about this band not being a cheap date.
Nova: I am buying a synthesiser and firing you both. Over a rainbow and into the sun.