“There are no jokes in Midlake, we do not laugh, it is not fun!” jokes their hirsute bassist, Paul Alexander, in his warm Texan twang. He’s referring to the album cover for their third album, The Courage Of Others, released on Bella Union four days prior to this interview, and whether it’s supposed to be a joke. It depicts the band togged up in what look like druid outfits, looking so angry you’d think we just called to cancel the Summer Solstice. Apparently it’s all very serious.
“They’re supposed to be monks!” He laughs again. “We’re a little too serious for it to be tongue in cheek. The idea for the cover comes from a movie called ‘Andrey Rublyov’ by Andrei Tarkovsky. I don’t know if it’s set in the middle ages, but it looks sorta pre-New World, it’s got Russian monks just wandering around, getting tangled up with the pagans!
“Midlake has always been a pretty DIY band, so when we wanted to take the picture, we all had to dress up in the costumes and take some photos, we don’t go hunting around for models! We do everything ourselves, for better or worse.”
From makeshift monk outfits to producing their own albums, it’s a technique that’s served Midlake admirably over their ten year union. They met on a jazz degree at the University of North Texas, put out a self-released EP followed by their debut album, ‘Banman & Silvercork’ in 2004. Both were mildly received, and Midlake looked set to slip into the wings as understudies waiting to take Radiohead’s place. But their 2006 album, The Trials Of Van Occupanther (whose title was in fact borne of a joke where the band would introduce themselves to one another with the silliest names they could think of), became one of those records that slowly bore its way into a coterie of albums that eventually found near universal acclaim. It sold over 50,000 copies in the UK, good going for a true indie. There wasn’t a high profile press campaign, no Glastonbury slot broadcast on BBC3 to a shower of Edith Bowman’s finest superlatives that put them on the map. It seems rather quaint a suggestion, but it was just the songs themselves that were responsible – the hooks of ‘Roscoe’, ‘Head Home’ and ‘Young Bride’, their tales of pioneering escape, getting back to nature and simpler times, to the sound of lush Fleetwood Mac guitar. It’s been postulated that Van Occupanther paved the way for the folky trend headed by Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes, but the band were probably too busy touring the record to notice.
“We toured VO for a year and a half. I didn’t like it at the end of touring,” he says thoughtfully. “By the end of that tour I had a lot of doubts. I like about half the record. I’ve been very proud of VO, we worked very hard on it, we did it all ourselves, and when we finished it we were just astonished that anyone cared it all. It was a slow thing that developed over that year and a half. We were also really surprised that people really were interested in what we did this time.”
The nucleus of record number three came when singer Tim Smith brought a pile of old, predominantly English folk albums to the band – ranging from Pentangle to The Incredible String Band, Strawbs and Fairport Convention (see Paul’s Promised Works for a more in-depth look at some of these records). The rest of the band – McKenzie Smith, Eric Nichelson, Eric Pullido and Paul – took some time getting into the idea before the band set about finding their own voice in a decades old genre.
“We’re not those bands, we’re not that time period, we don’t have the same influences they had,” says Paul. With their first two records made “in bedrooms”, the band moved into their own studio, where they spent nearly two years, keeping shift-like work patterns. What became of that time and those influences was The Courage Of Others, a much darker record than its predecessor – denser, lacking the winning, hook-laden choruses, and seemingly more pessimistic, exploring the terrible things that mankind does to itself. Spending the best part of a year on such a dark record took its toll on the band.
“I don’t know if the way the songs feel is a reflection of how we felt, or if the songs did that to us. I think part of this was that at times it was really difficult, we were really frustrated, we knew we weren’t really getting anywhere very quickly, and a lot of times when we did get something, we’d think, well this is the best thing we’ve done in two weeks, let’s keep this, when really I still had a big question mark over it. So that reality makes your work hard – your rewards are few and far between because there are so many times where you feel like you’ve failed a little bit at the end of the day. We spent nearly two years in the studio, so yeah, that wears you down.”
It’s these modern demands, worries about work, deadlines, and bills that The Courage Of Others shies away from with its pastoral concerns, leading some to paint Midlake as chairmen of the tourist board for a mission to return to the leafy days of yore.
“I don’t think we’re like, [shouting] ‘the 19th century, we should all be there!’ I think only two people in our band would have survived childhood because everyone died when they were born. I wouldn’t have made it!”
