Passing The Acid Test

The Alabama 3s sound is an unlikely mix, writes Irvine Welsh.

MORE than 10 years ago, a friend from Brixton came to stay in my Amsterdam apartment and brought me a tape of the sessions that would become the bulk of the Alabama 3s incendiary debut album, Exile on Coldharbour Lane. Its fusion of techno with country and western was astonishingly bold, combining the most radical and reactionary genres of popular music. I started to check out the bands gigs and found that Jake Black (aka D. Wayne Love), one of the bands founding members, and I had many mutual friends from our raving days in Glasgow. So I became one of the bands aficionados.

I cant understand why the Alabama 3 arent one of the biggest bands on the planet. Woke Up This Morning, which plays over the opening credits of The Sopranos, remains their best-known song but you would expect at least one of their albums to have gone platinum on the leg-up from that alone. Over the course of seven albums the A3 have turned a crazed mirror on Britains mainstream cultural influences, parodying derivative and genre-based music through the lens of what the band call their "sweet muthaf- acid house country music", with a leavening of dirty rocknroll.

Does it concern them that lesser lights are fawned over while they remain on the margins? "As long as we do good work," Larry (Love, aka Rob Spragg) says, "we know there will be a payback time."

Larry is a man who still looks as if a ray of sunlight will combust him. D. Wayne, though, is a more substantial figure — but these boys are proper rocknroll stars. If they wear shades indoors, its because theyre covering up strung-out eyes and brawlers bruises. Glancing at the tape recorder, Larry asks me: "Do you feel guilty that you havent had a rocknroll death yet, and are still bounding down the highways and byways of self-destruction?"

Death is such a cheerful presence in the A3 canon. "Weve got a lottery in the band about whos going to die first," Larry says. "Were amazed were all still alive."

D. Wayne comes from the Possil area of Glasgow and Im from Muirhouse, in Edinburgh, so when we get together we talk about art and politics with all the pomposity, pretentiousness and guilt of true Scottish schemies. He tells me, touchingly, about my debut novels influence on the band. "Trainspotting was iconoclastic for us. It introduced a whole disenfranchised generation to literature — a generation that had been informed literature was the possession of an elite. It delineated the complex inner lives of the housing estates and communities people lived in. Weve been trying to do the same with our music, trying to show young people that they can make music based on their own lives, using genres like country and blues that they probably considered the territory of their dads and grannies."

But writing novels is a lonely business, and release is often difficult. Thats what I envy about these boys: they can hit that stage and perform together; the communication and catharsis is instant, and theres an immediate connection with their audience. "Thats the end of the process — the performance," Larry says. "But were constantly looking for new experiences, new people to bounce off, new shades of reality to reflect our twisted US accent-based view of life. Were always collecting experiences to use as songwriters."

What music kicked off their warped, exhilarating vision of the world? "House affected us deeply," D. Wayne says. "But punk rock liberated people like me and those I knocked around with in Glasgow. For the first time, we were able to dress up and hit the city centre, talk about Rimbaud and Baudelaire, mix with Jim Kerr and Charlie Burchill (of Simple Minds) and get shagged. It opened up a brand-new lifestyle for us."

The band grew organically out of its members acid house DJing activities. Larry explains: "We were doing a gig in Italy, me and D. Wayne in the early days, with two turntables and a load of acid house records and some obscure blues LPs. It was run by the Italian Communist Party. There were lots of punk bands. We played our house, the room was full, it was kickin. Then this guy from the CP came in and said we had to prepare and read out our manifesto. Someone tore a page from an Italian comic book and we read it out. It started, The techno warriors will save the Martians. It made me think about the veracity of political manifestos. The crowd loved it. I often wonder if there are still a few addled Italian CP members trying to live by the code we outlined that night."

Things seem a lot blander now, in the age of Simon Cowell. "Alabama 3 live in this world," Larry says. "We reflect and comment on it. But were trying to cut through the distortions of people who peddle popular culture as a series of Pop Idol-type creations."

So are they speaking to the old punks and house-heads, those of us who should know better but just cant quite stay indoors and behave?

"Yes," Larry says, "But not exclusively. The last album was called M.O.R.. Some say it stands for Middle of the Road but its based on those gorgeous California west coast sounds like the Eagles and it maybe widened our audience. With the new collection, we just thought wed offer up a reminder of how we got there."

Hits and Exit Wounds is out now through Creative Vibes.

THE GUARDIAN

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