Melody Maker 6/18/88

SLEEP COMES DOWN

"I don't believe that I believed in you"-"All That Money Wants"

Butler regained his doubt. Thank goodness for that.

There was a time, believe it or not, when we fell out. After five years of buddy-buddy grand debauchery in which I was convinced that, along with Japan, The Psychedelic Furs were unique as a band who had never made a bad LP, I happened to opine that the "Midnight To Midnight" album lacked dimension and purpose. We sulked apart a while.

But Butler's back in Britain recording, with brother Tim, John Aston and Vince Ely, the Furs' original drummer, a single with Smiths/Morrissey producer Stephen Street. It's called "All That Money Wants" and, oh joy, they've stopped making sense. What the hell happened?

"To be polite to 'Midnight, we tried to make it accessible. I knew it wasn't the most adventurous writing, lyricwise, that I'd done. But I wanted something people would easily relate to and, having done that, I think it was our biggest mistake as a band. "I got sick of people saying 'Oh, what's this lyric about?' and not quite understanding so I thought I'd make a really simple album that people could quite easily digest."

A large part of the Furs' beauty to me was always the uncertainty, the wondering what the lyrics were about, the personal interpretations.

"Yeah, and I enjoy writing them so that meanings appear and you can follow that lead instead of setting out with something in mind."

But you lost your ability to torture a cliché-such a shock after "Mirror Moves" which was very nearly perfect in its gleaming melancholy. That album was like a Venus Flytrap-so gorgeous you were enticed inside and then-snap!-dangerous as f***.

"Yeah, I enjoy lyrical twists. We did get lost on 'Midnight To Midnight' but, recently, we've been getting back in touch with what we do best."

It's funny, pop history's full of people who lost their way through over-indulgence in drink and drugs, yet it's tempting to suggest you lost yours through abstinence. Your records have become more and more normal since you gave up drink and drugs. Do you honestly struggle to recall or re-impose the stimulating perspectives and dimensions being wrecked bestows? Were you marooned in normality? "Yeah, I was. It was a big change in my life from being an English drunk to suddenly living in America being very straight."

Did you become a bit born-again?

"No. I know people tend to. Like, people who give up smoking can't stand to be in a room with people smoking cigarettes but I'm not like that. I'm all for people recreationally drinking and things. It used to be a huge enjoyment for me."

Your writing process is presumably different now, yet "All That Money Wants" seems to be some sort of reversion back to confusion.

"Well, what I'm trying to do now is not control things too much because that's what I've been doing. I don't have to look at every line and go 'Oh, I dunno, I could change that around...'Y'know, it's just a matter of getting it done and letting it flow, being a bit more free about it."

At the start, The Psychedelic Furs were in context in that they were deliberately out of context, they went against the grain from the name right through. There was, for want of a better word, a reason for the band existing, a vision, a cause. That's all gone now hasn't it? The longer a band goes on, it becomes a career doesn't it? You went to America and made one brilliant album and one iffy album and they both just came out like...uh...a Bryan Ferry album comes out.

"It's interesting you should mention Bryan Ferry because I was just thinking about him. Bryan Ferry is an example of trying to control something too much. He's got into such a state of mind that, when I listen to his records now, I feel he's trying to control it so much and he's got it so refined down that there are no breaks to let any humanity or even passion or genuine feeling in.

"I think that's the way I was going but now I'm just letting Richard Butler come out."

But what I'm really asking is, is it relevant? Or, is it important that it be relevant?

"Um...I think it's relevant, yeah. I think it's relevant in that it has something to say and, as long as music has something to say, then, yeah, I'll carry on doing it."

Roughly, your peer group is U2, The Bunnymen, Simple Minds, maybe New Order later and you've become less successful than some and more successful than others. You're kinda mid-table really-you're not gonna be relegated but you're not gonna win the league. Could you have ever done either? Is it galling that U2 have become so big?

"No, not really. It seemed that people wanted U2 to be this huge world-breaking band and I think U2 wanted that too, whereas it never entered my mind to be something like that, I mean, we would have been really perverse to have wanted to be like that, making the records we made. Ha ha! I mean, if I play U2's first album and our first album, I think ours is the more uncompromising by a long long way.

"When we first started out, it wasn't 'Let's be the biggest rock 'n' roll band in the world!' Because we hated all that and I still kinda do. That's not what I'm doing it for. I want a bit more excitement than that. U2 have always had this very particular sound that hasn't changed dramatically from one album to another whereas we've always consciously tried to make developments and changes in our music as it goes along. Neither way's right-it's just the way we've chosen to approach it."

People don't seem to care so much about pop music any more though, do they? It's more of an accessory than an essential to most people's lives. Do you think pop music's run its course?

"No. For a time everybody thought it could change the world but I never believed that, although I do believe it can change the way people think about things. I still hear songs where I think Yeah, that person's saying something to me that is really relevant to my life, it really means something' and it can polarize my own thoughts. I can be not quite clear on something and somebody will write a song that really points a finger somewhere and I'll think Yeah, they're right about that. Yeah, that's how I feel about it."

But you're in your thirties now and there are kids half your age making pop records too. How does that make you feel? What I'm getting at is that pop is adolescent and you're not. Look at Morrissey-in order to achieve success, he's pickled his adolescent traumas in aspic. He's a retard, like a character from an Alan Bennett play.

"But I don't think you have to put your adolescence in aspic at all. I don't think your feelings change as you get older. I think your way of dealing with them changes but your feelings basically stay the same. I still get angry at the same things that have always angered me y'know, ignorance probably being the primary one."

Doesn't it become more and more difficult not to see pop music as absurd?

"Yeah, the machinations of it become more and more stupid and, to genuinely survive with your sanity intact, you have to love making music. If you do that, you'll be alright but if you go into it expecting any degree of fame is going to be any good or is anything worth chasing after, you're going to end up bitterly disappointed. And if you think that the fame you have at any point is lasting in any way, then you're also going to be bitterly disappointed.

"Ultimately, you have to try and accept the way you are. It's funny, I've been going to an analyst lately, just because I wanted to try and get a handle on the way! think about things. I went to this guy and I said 'One of the things I'm curious about is why I'm here? What exactly can you do for me? Can you actually change my personality? Do I want to change my personality? Are there things that make me fly into a temper and go kicking furniture around my apartment? Do I really want to get rid of those? Isn't that what makes my personality work? Isn't that what makes my writing work? Isn't that something that's essentially me?"

"And he said, Well, yeah, it is. You can't really change those things. You can learn to exercise a little bit of control over them by understanding where they come from, by understanding why you feel that way. But you'll never be a person that doesn't feel like kicking the furniture around the place."

"I thought that was a very honest admission for somebody who makes their living talking to people." Are you still going?

"I've been about four times and it is good. You do get a chance to externalise. It's like, if you sit at home and do some writing, it's very different to when you

actually expose that writing to somebody. I can sit at home and write lyrics that I think are okay and I can stand in the studio and the band are playing and I'll start singing my song and I'll feel 'How can I have ever written that? That's embarrassing!' Yet I didn't feel that when I was sitting at home. And you can get the same perspective by talking to somebody about your problems. I mean, you can't talk to somebody who's in your circle of acquaintances on a really, really honest level-you'd be too embarrassed to look them in the face whereas an analyst is really just a paid pair of ears.

"It helps you externalize and then you can say, Well, that's not such a big problem as I thought or you can say to him 'Is that a regular way of feeling?' and he can say Yeah, well you feel like that probably because of this and this. Have you ever had any experiences in that?' And I've found it helpful in understanding myself although analysts are incredibly over-priced."

Doesn't it just make you incredibly self-conscious and work against the forgetting process you were talking about?

"I think it's down to how curious you are about your emotions and feelings. One thing I saw that made me think twice about analysis was some programme about John Cleese. I remember looking at him and he had suddenly become this very self-satisfied buffoon and he said he owed it all to analysis whereas ! thought he seemed to lack the aggression and bite he'd had before. I thought he had given it all away and, not only that, he was waving it goodbye with this idiotic smile on his face. I think that's the worst that can happen and he's deluding himself."

And, just to prove my point, he's stopped working. "But he must have virtually brain-washed himself into wanting to be changed that much because, like I said, the guy said to me “You can't be changed that much' and I don't want to change myself. I'm a very temperamental, bad-tempered person. I'm prone to fits of depression and that's me and, to be quite honest, I feel quite satisfied being depressed a lot of the time. It suits me. I'd hate to be walking round like I'm lobotomized, y'know?"

What does this teach you about your writing? "That it's probably an exorcism. You sit down and you start writing and it always turns out that your obsessions start coming out on pieces of paper and you can't really stop them. It's just that what comes out is inherently you and I have to change a lot of l's to you's and me to them because I really don't want people to see that I feel like this or that."

Doesn’tit strike you as strange that, at the very time you're trying to let your songs go, you're becoming more mentally and physically and chemically aware?

"Well, to be able to change your state of mind chemically is quite good fun but then you can also get pissed off with something else having control over you. It's like, you go down the pub and have a drink if you want to celebrate; you go down the pub and drink if you want to drown your sorrows-there's a drink for every occasion and you can use drugs the same way.

"In a way, you just skim the surface of your emotions. If you're feeling depressed, you drown your sorrows. If you don't drink, if you can't drown your sorrows, if you don't smoke cigarettes or if you don't eat yourself into a coma, you have to actually go through that depression and learn how to handle it. "And going into that depression instead of skating over the top with a few drinks is actually learning more about yourself and it gives you more wealth to write from if you like.

"I've learned a lot from the fact that there's no escape from your problems except to come face to face with them. It's been very difficult and I've only very recently been able to live a normal life. I mean, you could get very lonely in England if you don't want to go down the pub. It's the same with cigarettes- would write a verse or a chorus or something and then I'd sit back and have a cigarette and see how it read. I used cigarettes like a reward and the motivation for actually doing something is totally different when you don't have a reward. You almost feel "Why the f should I sit down and do anything if I don't get the reward for it?""

I suppose when you're sober, there's no escape from the biggies either? I bet you can't forget you're going to die.

"Oh that terrifies me. It seems to me that, prior to the age I am now, I thought death was something that happened to other people, but you suddenly wake up one day and you look at yourself in the mirror and you realise that it's happening to you. I never used to think about it but now I tend to be obsessive about death... and faith. Where do people get faith from? How do people learn to live when they're 40-plus? Why do they want to live? What reason is there to live when you get to that age? That's one of the reasons I've been going to see an analyst-why do I want to live?" I don't think you ever think you're old.

"My old man says that. He's 60 and he says he feels the way he's always felt and he can't move his body as fast as it wants to move and stuff like that. Death is scary...I'm just hoping that I'm so f-ing bored by the time I die, which is a distinct possibility."

Oh no, that's the worst thing. That's just finding an excuse. You've got to come to terms, to somehow reach some sort of wisdom or instinct whereby you understand and accept it as the natural thing to happen to you.

"But that doesn't sound like a very realistic thing. Ha ha ha! What you're talking about it having all your enthusiasm for living and yet being willing to let go of it and I can't see that ever happening."

It's called religion Richard.

"That's another thing about the realization that death is going to come; I know, instinctively, that that's why people invented faith. I know that's why people invented religion. I've known it for years but now that I'm getting to a position where I realize it's going to happen to me, I'm more frightened of dying than I ever have been before and I start looking to faith and I have to stop myself. It's like slapping myself on the hand constantly. It's like 'Don't believe in that, you're falling for the trap'. You almost want to have faith though you know it's not true. You almost want to believe just to fool yourself that it's not going to happen to you. It's such a glorious ignorance!

I think you have to bear in mind constantly the warning signs. It's like what made music us and them? What was it about them that we hated? What am I going to do to make damn f***ing sure that I never become them? You just have to keep those things in mind. You have to say 'It's not just talk, I'm actually going to do it. And I am. I'm not going to become closed-minded. I'm not going to become politically conservative. I'm not going to become religious because I'm afraid of dying."

So you're determined to be terrified on your death bed are you Richard?

"I will be, yeah."

You may be reincarnated.

"I think that's preposterous, don't you? I mean, how many people can be Cleopatra? Somebody should take Shirley MacLaine out, tie her to a stake and shoot her. How come these people were never something really dull, leading a very ordinary life? That's what I can't understand. Y'know, they were always a hand-maiden, they never say, 'For the last God knows how many centuries, I've been totally insignificant." What if you could come back as somebody else? "I wouldn't want to, but, if I was forced, I think it would have to be Pablo Picasso. Creatively, the guy was a giant. He just went from strength to strength to strength. He just breathed it, y'know. When he didn't have to do it anymore, when he could have sat around and squandered his millions and had any woman he wanted, he was still going out there and painting six, seven paintings a day. He did some incredible lithographs at the end of his life and whether you like him stylistically isn't the point. The point is that he was a giant in that everything was an outpouring for 80 years and he loved it every minute and it shows in his work. His must have been a really rewarding life."

What would you like heaven to be like if there was one?

"God, that's difficult. It would be very boring if everything went perfectly, wouldn't it?" Not if you didn't have the same notions of boredom as you have now.

Yeah, but I don't think one of the prerequisites of heaven is you get to brainwash yourself and take away notions such as boredom. I mean, it would be like, 'Stepford Wives' then. I think it would have to be a place where I could exist with my senses intact."