He toyed with drug-induced madness during his tenure with The Verve.
Now Richard Ashcroft exalts family and joy on his second solo album,
Human Condition. by Kerry Doole
Given that his music and lyrics are often slagged
off as pretentious and pompous, it’s refreshing to discover that
Richard Ashcroft has a healthy sense of humour.
The British rock star actually gets a chuckle at the
widely differing responses his second solo album, Human Conditions,
is eliciting.
“People in France, Germany and Italy are really
warming to it, and then there’s the cynicism back home,” he
says. “I realise I’m walking a tightrope here. Some people
will switch off or take it the wrong way immediately, but it’s
actually a joy to see different connotations and interpretations put
on one particular line or song.”
He’s just pleased it is getting a reaction. “Putting
something out that just sits there, with no one talking about it, that
would be embarrassing.”
The almost absurdly handsome Ashcroft has attracted
strong opinions ever since bursting onto the British scene a decade
ago as frontman and chief songwriter for The Verve. They had a turbulent
career, one marred by in-fighting and reports of major pharmaceutical
indulgence. After splitting in 1995, they reunited for a glorious swansong
in Urban Hymns. Thanks to the international hit turned rock anthem,
‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’, that album sold over seven million
copies worldwide, establishing Richard as a bona fide rock star.
Ashcroft is not a victim of nostalgia. “I am
constantly running away from what I’ve done,” he insists.
“But I do look back at The Verve and know that, in our own crazy
way, we set out to make the music we wanted to, without selling out.
We did stupid things, but out of a real and innocent intensity.”
He re-emerged in 2000 with his solo debut, Alone
With Everybody. It hit Number One in the UK but didn’t have
quite the same impact globally. The epic sound that is Ashcroft’s
trademark is evident again on Human Conditions via strings, horns
and a multi-layered sound. “From working with [arranger] Wil Malone,
I’ve discovered that strings are one of the best ways to frame
my voice. They can be dark yet uplifting.”
A sense of spiritual exploration and philosophical
reflection pervades the album. “I am trying to get to a certain
place where it is almost transcendent or euphoric,” Ashcroft says
of his music. “I have always loved songs with strong dynamics,
ones that aren’t pompous or overwrought, but are subtly beautiful.”
A role model here has been Brian Wilson, so imagine
Ashcroft’s delight when the enigmatic Beach Boy added vocals to
the closing track, ‘Nature Is The Law’.
“I’ll never do another collaboration after
that one,” he laughs. “It went from my literally daydreaming
about him and his music and his brother Dennis as I was listening to
‘Nature’ coming out of the speakers. Before I knew it, he
was doing it in LA. He was so in tune with where I was coming from.”
Ashcroft views their musical encounter in spiritual
terms. “I’ve been called ‘Mad Richard’. It’s
easy to start feeling mad, but moments like that give you that clarity,
that sense of unity, that you are not going crazy. It’s a deep
honour to be involved in some part of his musical tree.”
Ashcroft’s status as a family man has influenced
his world view and lyrical approach. “My wife and son, they’re
my tribe. After my last world tour, I realised that if I was going to
put out an album, my tiny grain of sand in this endless f**kin’
infinity, it has to have a sense of warmth and hope, because I’ve
got something to protect here. It was just a very basic feeling of what
is the f**kin’ point of releasing empty nihilistic rhetoric into
the world when that is all we hear on a daily basis!?”
He’s justifiably scathing about the post-grunge
and nu-metal crowd. “I often feel cynical about bands and songwriters
you see on video screens in a lot of pain, yet they still manage to
tour the world and kiss ass, right? It is that empty angst and nihilism.
I don’t need that. I’ve got my tribe!”
|
