(Home | Order Bananafish | Midheaven Mailorder | Revolver USA | Bananafish #14)

Excerpted from Bananafish #15

Approaching an interview with Volcano The Bear, I'll admit my scepticism. I'd read the reviews, heard the records, seen the demented drawings and photos of gurning goons — not a pretty sight. What made it worse, in my opinion, was that it wasn't just some disaffected nutter and the clueless mate he'd reluctantly pulled in, but a fully formed four-man gang, each one seemingly as barmy as the other. To top it all, my wife answered the phone and thought one of them was putting on a weird voice to scare her. I had to keep telling myself that it could be worse — I might be working the V/Vm assignment with which I am perpetually threatened.

Still, it was with some trepidation that I took the day trip to Leicester, a sedate city, yet one that has thrown up such exotically monikered exports as Englebert Humperdinck, Showaddywaddy and, yes, Volcano The Bear. Facial hair notwithstanding, Nick Mott and Aaron Moore seem to be fairly normal, balanced individuals. Likewise, Laurence Coleman and Daniel Padden are models of decency both. They all speak perfectly rationally in fully formed sentences —no random yelps or drooling or nothing. It does not make sense, precisely because they do make sense. An hour or two into our conversation, I am right on their level, spinning in their orbit. I'm ready to invite them 'round for tea. Hell, they could even stay over and go on a date with my sister if they like.

So, what is it with the underground music media? What makes us so hungry for sensational copy that we continually paint these gentle folk as the apex of whacked-out rustic arse-scratch holler? It just does not add up. No doubt about it, Volcano The Bear has its collective head screwed on. Those guys know how to hold their hurdy-gurdies, and probably have a fair idea of how to properly tune them, too.

Of course, one is faced with a dilemma —how to square up this regular-guy reality with fancy American notions of “English eccentricity” and prevent readers from gagging on the straightness of it all; how to deliver a polite, tea-drinking Sunday afternoon chat in the English Midlands to an audience expecting “theater of transgression” or something equally unspeakable? Bloody Americans. Ah, bugger it; dear readers can work it out for themselves. If a suited and booted English bloke wearing a mask of his own face and squonking on about virgins sitting on pedestals of shit seems “eccentric,” then who the hell am I to argue? That stuff has always passed for wholesome family entertainment over here.

Aaron Moore: When we toured America we had almost no equipment.

Nick Mott: On some of those shows I'd have just this little Casio sampling keyboard, and I'd be wandering around while we were playing, thinking "where's all the stuff?"

Aaron: We took a tiny amount - a four-track, clarinet, violin and trumpet. We toured with Bablicon over here a few weeks before, so we stashed some of our stuff with them. But we had to borrow other things.

Nick: I discovered I couldn't use another guitar, my own is so idiosyncratic. And loads of instruments broke down, so we had to make do with what we had.

Aaron: There were a lot of vocals on that tour. It went great, though.

Nick: New York was amazing.

Neil Campbell: Where else did you go?

Laurence Coleman: Chicago, for a start.

Aaron: Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Detroit.

Nick: Detroit - what a strange, alien town.

Aaron: We played in this gallery in a disgusting block building with no neighbor in a really run-down area. It was really nice inside. Fifteen people turned up to see us.

Nick: North Carolina... We played in a pizza parlor in Tennessee.

Aaron: People traveled six hours to see us.

Nick: Really strange.

Neil Campbell: What did you think of the food in America?

Laurence: Some of it was great, some of it was absolute shit.

Aaron: On the road, it was awful - Dunkin' Donuts, Taco Bell.

Nick: We had a couple of really nice meals, and the supermarkets had good food in them, but I found a lot of the food frustrating, bland.

Laurence: The curries weren't as spicy.

Daniel Padden: Grits down south. Strange... like air. Nothing there. Neil Campbell: It's a horrible name for a foodstuff, "grits."

Daniel: You had to eat it with other things, like salt. It's a vessel to carry other flavors.

Laurence: Like a newspaper.

Neil Campbell: You're the first people I've met who've complained about American food. What about your involvement with Steven Stapleton?

Aaron: He's a nice chap. It's a real pleasure to work with him.

Nick: I fell in love with his music as soon as I heard it. His vision is so wonderfully all-encompassing. There are so many pieces to the jigsaw, but somehow he puts them together. It was great when he first phoned me after I sent him one of our tapes. I dreamt that he would. I often have massive bouts of positivity, where everything is the best thing in the world, and whatever we want will happen, and it does! I have had premonitions and foresights, and the possibility of that particular thing not becoming true is not an option. Stapleton seemed to be so much on the same wavelength. We've all corresponded with him ever since.

Daniel: Laurence and I went to visit him last summer. I remember meeting him at about two in the morning and having to follow his car down these weird lanes to his place. It was miles from anywhere and I remember having this grin on my face as I drove behind his little old white Renault 4 as it nipped and darted down bosky lanes. It was like chasing a white rabbit (no drug reference intended) to his place. His place could be in one of those outsider art books - it was fantastic, built much with his own hands. I remember Laurence saying "I've seen some funny places in my time...“ Steven once told me that music was about fourth on his list of things he does, after building, painting and cacti. He had no music making stuff in his home, which surprised me, but then again... He's a lovely guy. People make him out to be this weirdo recluse. He decided to remove himself from the evils of everyday society and took his extremely vivid imagination with him.