The Aquarian
05/13/09, 10:50 AM
The English Beat Interview (http://www.theaquarian.com/aq/2009/05/13/interview-with-dave-wakeling-of-the-english-beat/)
If there ever was a band that embodied the spirit of working-class Britain, it was The English Beat. Formed in Birmingham during the fertile period of social upheaval in the late ‘70s, The English Beat were punk royalty, rubbing elbows with The Clash, The Specials, and The Talking Heads. The band released three albums in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s that have since become classics of early ska, and guitarist Dave Wakeling continues to tour and play today with a new lineup of musicians. Dave took some time out to offer up thoughts on saxophone players, naming disputes, and “toasting,” a blend of singing and speaking born from reggae.
I guess I should start off by asking you where you are now.
I’m on a balcony in the sun in California. I’ve lived here for more than twenty years now. I did thirty years in Birmingham, and since you only get thirty years for murder in England, I figured I’d done my time. (laughs)
You’re one of a bunch of bands that had to change your name in the U.S. for copyright reasons.
Well, the frustrating thing about that is that it was actually avoidable. We got a call from Bill Graham in San Francisco, before we’d even got a manager, before a record deal, before anything. Bill Graham called me, and he said he’d heard of the band. And this is the famous Bill Graham—the one everyone had heard about! He said, ‘I’ve got some bad news for you. I’ve got a band called The Beat.’ And I thought to myself, ‘God, we haven’t even started!’
This must’ve been in the late ‘70s.
It was in the summer of 1979, perhaps. He asked if we had management, and I said no. He said, ‘Well, if you’re interested in management, I might be able to help you with the name.’ At that point, I should’ve said yes and jumped on a plane right there, but we were still punks and purists, so I said, ‘If you get another group called The Beat that’s even better than us in two weeks, you’ll say the same thing to them.’ Which was stupid of me.
That’s not a very happy ending.
It was frustrating at first. The Australian record company was absolutely certain that it should be called ‘The British Beat.’ In fact, the first few records that came out in Australia had ‘British Beat’ on the sleeve. But then, we were in New York, to meet up with Arista Records to see whether they wanted us in America. And sitting in a deli eating breakfast, we noticed on a menu that they had English muffins. And of course, in England they aren’t called muffins—I don’t suppose French fries are called French fries in France, either. But I saw that word, ‘English.’ Americans seemed to like that word, whereas ‘British’ seemed to bring up images of the empire.
It has a tea-drinking quality to it.
Exactly. A lot of heritage. So I thought, well, what about ‘The English Beat?’ And I told Sire Records, and they all fell off their chairs!
You must’ve been right about how much Americans love that word.
It touched a nerve, I suppose. The purists still insist on calling us ‘The Beat,’ but that’s who we are now. Once you start, you’re branded—it may as well be burnt on your back. So, English Beat it is.
Have you been able to find someone who’s as good at toasting as Roger?
Well, comparisons are always odious, but I think the guy we have now is better. We call him Two-Tone Tony. He’s a Jersey boy—born in London, raised in Jamaica, and he lives in New Jersey. And so his toasting has all three flavors. Because of that, he has a great ability to connect with an American audience, and he lives here, so he knows how people move. He does a passable Ranking Roger—he sings the parts that were Roger’s parts. But in the past 18 months or so, it’s grown and grown, and the stuff he does, little poems that he just wrote on the spur of the moment, have now grown into full-fledged songs that we play. He’s a great lyricist—very witty and engaging. And unlike many toasters, he has a great, tuneful singing voice. Very few people have both.
It’s analogous to a rapper with a singing voice.
Yeah, it’s the same sort of thing. On some of those songs he wrote, I think to myself, ‘God, he sings like Seal.’ (laughs) At first, there were a few people who would make comparisons with Roger, or ask if he was ever coming back. But nobody asks anymore. He seems to have been accepted by the purists—the ones who just call us ‘The Beat.’
Was it a hard sell, being a punk band with a saxophone player?
No, not really. When we started, there weren’t many bands at all with saxophones, so it was a huge novelty. And Saxa, the original saxophonist, was a superb player—he would tell a story with those melody lines. He would just enchant people. So if there was any resistance to having a saxophone in a punk and reggae band, it dissipated once he started to play. And we did want it to be not just a punk band—we were, of course, trying to blend punk and reggae.
They’re both very political.
Well, it was a period where social activism was almost de rigeur. I liked growing up in that period. It would have seemed odd to us at the time to sing 12 songs without mentioning at all what was going on around us. People used to ask us, ‘Do you think pop and politics mix?’ And I said, well, only if you’re a human being, only if you live on planet Earth. If not, then I suppose they might not. (laughs)
The English Beat play at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, NJ, on May 14 and May 15. For more info, visit davewakeling.com
If there ever was a band that embodied the spirit of working-class Britain, it was The English Beat. Formed in Birmingham during the fertile period of social upheaval in the late ‘70s, The English Beat were punk royalty, rubbing elbows with The Clash, The Specials, and The Talking Heads. The band released three albums in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s that have since become classics of early ska, and guitarist Dave Wakeling continues to tour and play today with a new lineup of musicians. Dave took some time out to offer up thoughts on saxophone players, naming disputes, and “toasting,” a blend of singing and speaking born from reggae.
I guess I should start off by asking you where you are now.
I’m on a balcony in the sun in California. I’ve lived here for more than twenty years now. I did thirty years in Birmingham, and since you only get thirty years for murder in England, I figured I’d done my time. (laughs)
You’re one of a bunch of bands that had to change your name in the U.S. for copyright reasons.
Well, the frustrating thing about that is that it was actually avoidable. We got a call from Bill Graham in San Francisco, before we’d even got a manager, before a record deal, before anything. Bill Graham called me, and he said he’d heard of the band. And this is the famous Bill Graham—the one everyone had heard about! He said, ‘I’ve got some bad news for you. I’ve got a band called The Beat.’ And I thought to myself, ‘God, we haven’t even started!’
This must’ve been in the late ‘70s.
It was in the summer of 1979, perhaps. He asked if we had management, and I said no. He said, ‘Well, if you’re interested in management, I might be able to help you with the name.’ At that point, I should’ve said yes and jumped on a plane right there, but we were still punks and purists, so I said, ‘If you get another group called The Beat that’s even better than us in two weeks, you’ll say the same thing to them.’ Which was stupid of me.
That’s not a very happy ending.
It was frustrating at first. The Australian record company was absolutely certain that it should be called ‘The British Beat.’ In fact, the first few records that came out in Australia had ‘British Beat’ on the sleeve. But then, we were in New York, to meet up with Arista Records to see whether they wanted us in America. And sitting in a deli eating breakfast, we noticed on a menu that they had English muffins. And of course, in England they aren’t called muffins—I don’t suppose French fries are called French fries in France, either. But I saw that word, ‘English.’ Americans seemed to like that word, whereas ‘British’ seemed to bring up images of the empire.
It has a tea-drinking quality to it.
Exactly. A lot of heritage. So I thought, well, what about ‘The English Beat?’ And I told Sire Records, and they all fell off their chairs!
You must’ve been right about how much Americans love that word.
It touched a nerve, I suppose. The purists still insist on calling us ‘The Beat,’ but that’s who we are now. Once you start, you’re branded—it may as well be burnt on your back. So, English Beat it is.
Have you been able to find someone who’s as good at toasting as Roger?
Well, comparisons are always odious, but I think the guy we have now is better. We call him Two-Tone Tony. He’s a Jersey boy—born in London, raised in Jamaica, and he lives in New Jersey. And so his toasting has all three flavors. Because of that, he has a great ability to connect with an American audience, and he lives here, so he knows how people move. He does a passable Ranking Roger—he sings the parts that were Roger’s parts. But in the past 18 months or so, it’s grown and grown, and the stuff he does, little poems that he just wrote on the spur of the moment, have now grown into full-fledged songs that we play. He’s a great lyricist—very witty and engaging. And unlike many toasters, he has a great, tuneful singing voice. Very few people have both.
It’s analogous to a rapper with a singing voice.
Yeah, it’s the same sort of thing. On some of those songs he wrote, I think to myself, ‘God, he sings like Seal.’ (laughs) At first, there were a few people who would make comparisons with Roger, or ask if he was ever coming back. But nobody asks anymore. He seems to have been accepted by the purists—the ones who just call us ‘The Beat.’
Was it a hard sell, being a punk band with a saxophone player?
No, not really. When we started, there weren’t many bands at all with saxophones, so it was a huge novelty. And Saxa, the original saxophonist, was a superb player—he would tell a story with those melody lines. He would just enchant people. So if there was any resistance to having a saxophone in a punk and reggae band, it dissipated once he started to play. And we did want it to be not just a punk band—we were, of course, trying to blend punk and reggae.
They’re both very political.
Well, it was a period where social activism was almost de rigeur. I liked growing up in that period. It would have seemed odd to us at the time to sing 12 songs without mentioning at all what was going on around us. People used to ask us, ‘Do you think pop and politics mix?’ And I said, well, only if you’re a human being, only if you live on planet Earth. If not, then I suppose they might not. (laughs)
The English Beat play at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, NJ, on May 14 and May 15. For more info, visit davewakeling.com