I found some nice intervieuws with the brothers



This one is quite recent and intresting and quite funny to :

�http://www.stubru.be/stubru_master/muziek/audio/thechemicalbrothers_pushthebutton_itv/



This one is intresting to , just click the speaker icon :

http://3voor12.vpro....22&news=6058733





Maybe we can use this thread to post all the intresting intervieuws we find instead of opening new threads all the time ?!

Tata!

Good idea Jeanie... your sig made me laugh, by the way! ;)

8O is scary...really

here is another interview

Production-wise, Tom & Ed had been relatively silent in early 2001, until Pete Tong played a track called 'Electronic Battle Weapon Number 5' on the Essential Selection back in May 2001. Then came Homelands, and the track was played more than any other. Shortly after, the plans for a new album were revealed, signalling the return of the Chems...



Hear the whole interview





You get asked this a lot, but how would you describe the album?

T: We usually duck out of questions like that, by just mumbling. Yeah, I don't know. The difficulty with us making this record was to make a record that we loved as much as the records we've made before. That was the big test for us, to do that. It touches on some of the things we've done before, but in a different way. We wouldn't have put it out if we didn't love it.



How long did it take to put together?

E: We started when we finished touring in 2000. About a year and a half.

T: We just wanted that immediate thrill that we got when we first started making music and to be sitting in the studio, which is sometimes quite a sterile environment, and to feel that overwhelming feeling of the music just going 'Bahhhh!!!'. What we want from our records sometimes takes more work that it did initially.



How did you do that then?

T: Ideas for the music just come at any time. People have this image that if you make electronic music, it's somehow less filled with that emotive kind of thing. Or that it's a very clinical kind of thing, you just sitting in a studio in front of a computer and it's very sterile. But you're a musician, you're still getting ideas out of the air, the same as someone sitting there with a guitar talking about whatever.



How do you communicate your ideas to each other?

E: I wouldn't say it was a model of communication!

T: Quite a lot of it is done with body language

E: Yeah, quite a lot of sulking and non communication...

T: Sometimes the greatest talker of all is the slight cold shoulder!



Is dance music being stagnated right now?

T: All music's stagnating, isn't it! Until something else comes through...

E: I think there's less stagnation in dance music than there is in other types of music. When you make a dance record, everyone wants it to be a new thing, when the biggest thing in rock music is The Strokes or something, which is an old thing. I like it that people in rock music tend to concentrate more on what the content is rather than what the form is. But we make dance music and everyone's obsessed with the form of what it is, whether it's garage, whether it's hip hop or whether it's nu-skool breaks. In rock and roll, people are used to the form so they get over that and worry about what the music actually is. I think we've got to that place, quite a cosmic interview this isn't it!?



Adam F recently made an album that was completely unexpected and he worked with some extraordinary people - was that not an option for you?

E: We've worked with our own extraordinary people. [Richard Ascroft and Beth Orton] They do inspire us. We could have made another type of record, we could have done all these things, but this is what we did - we went into the same studio and we made records that have the Chemical Brothers sound and character to them. The expectation that we'd go and make a record that was not a Chemical Brothers record, that's kind of alien to us, and we're really pleased with what we've done and we're gonna keep doing it.



Did you try any other vocalists out on the record that didn't make it?

E: We had a thing with Eve, she took one of our tracks that was a B-Side to 'It Began In Afrika' and they did their own version but we want to get it back and do our own version. It's a nice thing to have sitting on your desk!



You've been working with New Order as well haven't you?

E: We've produced a track with them...

T: ...which was an experience! It took about 8 months to get it to a point where Bernard was like, 'Yeah! That's alright!'

E: They're 4 people who are very particular about how a record should sound. It's called 'Here To Stay' and I think it's gonna be used for this '24 Hour Party People' soundtrack. That's the Factory Records film.



Did you really think that when you put out 'It Began In Afrika' as a 12" that it wouldn't come out as a single?

E: Well, we've put out records before which were these 'Electronic Battle Weapons' and we just put them out for DJs and that's what we initially intended to do, but then there was Homelands. We had friends there and we kept getting texts saying that so and so was playing it and it was really exciting to have this really big club record again, because we hadn't put out anything since the last album. We suddenly had this record that everybody was really excited about, people loved the sample, they immediately picked up on it, especially the 'ka-ka-ka'. It just seemed stupid not to release it!



The Testimony





Tom, you book into a hotel and you get a single room, you go and see Ed and he's got a suite, what do you do?

We'd toss a coin.



Ed, you read in a magazine that you're doing the soundtrack for the new Baz Lurhmann film, and you don't know anything about it. Later that week you pass a restaurant and there's Tom having lunch with Baz...

I'd be a bit worried, but I'd be glad to have anything to do with Baz Lurhmann, so I'd probably try and join them.



Tom, Specsavers offer you a huge amount of cash to be the new face of their youth range of glasses, would you accept?

I'd get to know the guys, see how they work, see what they can do for me and we'll go from there!



Your manager comes up to you and says, 'Lads, it's time to come out from behind the turntables', he then shows you a pair of matching suits made out in the style of the album, what would you say?

We'd say no.



Ed, you're out for dinner when you see Tom's wife having an affectionate meal with another man, do you tell him?

That's probably out of the realms of possibility really...



Tom, you're out for dinner when you see Ed having a very, very, very affectionate meal with Beth Orton. What would you do?

I'd probably just saunter over and sit down as well! 'Alright, talking about the next collaboration are we?'



An artist that you hate offers you a huge amount of cash for a remix, do you do it?

T: We're not so keen on the Bextor but I don't really hate her. I'd never remix her.



Have you ever cleared a dancefloor?

T: Cleared it? Murdered it! We've DJd at lots of places where there's been no one on the dancefloor and we've DJd and there's still been no one! We used to play a club where we used to DJ first and it was really just the cleaner, this goth cleaner. We used to play a dance remix of The Cure especially for him.



What's the most money you've spent on an item of clothing?

T: We both went to Milan and I bought my brother a Gucci jacket, then he lost it and Ed gave him another one. That's probably the most I've spent.



What would you like to see written on The Chemical Brothers' tombstone?

E: 'Unfailingly Polite'

Thanks for the interviews - nice idea for the thread too.



That's one tripped out sig Jeanie!! X-D

irish fan Escribi�:

You get asked this a lot, but how would you describe the album?

T: We usually duck out of questions like that, by just mumbling. Yeah, I don't know. '

hehe, how true is that!! X-D



nice find as well 8)

''Did you try any other vocalists out on the record that didn't make it?

E: We had a thing with Eve, she took one of our tracks that was a B-Side to 'It Began In Afrika' and they did their own version but we want to get it back and do our own version. It's a nice thing to have sitting on your desk!



You've been working with New Order as well haven't you?

E: We've produced a track with them...

T: ...which was an experience! It took about 8 months to get it to a point where Bernard was like, 'Yeah! That's alright!'

E: They're 4 people who are very particular about how a record should sound. It's called 'Here To Stay' and I think it's gonna be used for this '24 Hour Party People' soundtrack. That's the Factory Records film. ''





irish fan thank you. Woww, That is a golden interview !

I also like really ' New Order ' .....' Here To Stay ' is a great tune.

Bernard vocal is god....

It suits The Chems beats for Bernard vocal.



And Richard Ashcroft...and Beth Orton are great musicians as well.

They love Tom + Ed music as well.



:P

It would take me forever to go through and edit all the question marks on this one (very bizarre copy and pasting) - but I love this interview for the first few paragraphs.



It just makes me want to hug them.



The Chemical Brothers, Tom Rowland and Ed Simons, are leaning against a dimly lit wall in the shi-shi vodka bar of their posh New York hotel and they're squirming. Tom, his once trademark blonde locks now shorn and tucked beneath a jaunty cap, clears his throat. Ed stares at the table, picking at some tortilla chips. They're ummming and ahhhing, generally acting like schoolboys being chastised for forgetting their homework.



Which is about right, actually, because watching their interrogation by a certain monolithic music mag -one that gathers no moss, shall we say? It's clear the duo are unprepared. The young reporter is trying to cajole from Tom and Ed a Top 5 list of their favorite things: You know, I've had artists tell me about their favorite art work, or drug paraphernalia or sex toys or just about anything. Whatever you like. So racey.



Ed continues to concentrate on crushing a small chip into dust with his thumb, while Tom, having already listed his vintage EMS suitcase synthesizer, is stuck on number two. Ed finally claims an affinity for tiling; he recently had some done in his home, and the hotel, he reports, has some lovely tiling in the rooms. Tom thinks for another minute and then, thoughtfully offers, "We?re quite fond of apple juice."



The reporter smiles, but his thoughts are clear. Apple juice and tiles? What the hell kind of rockstars are these??



This is Tom and Ed. For a couple of guys who have sold millions of records around the globe, whose albums are all either gold or approaching gold status in the States, whose DJ gigs draw like rock concerts, whose remix talents are requested by marquee artists such as Spiritualized, St. Etienne and Method Man, the pair are quiet, perhaps even shy. Ask them to contrive an image for themselves and they'll stammer endlessly. But ask them to discuss music as they've ostensibly come to New York to do, as their fourth studio album, Come With Us, was just released this month?and they will speak earnestly, with frequent insight.



Come With Us marks a logical progression for The Chemical Brothers, continuing their journey along the road towards psychedelic apotheosis. Since their debut Exit Planet Dust in 1995, the pair's music has gradually shifted away from the overt block rockin? beats they became famous for, and geared towards the warm and intricate textures of acid-washed melodies; time-stretched techno burbles, beautiful synths and, yes, some floor-shaking beats form the core of Come With Us. As usual, the Brothers make the most of a couple of guest appearances, most notably Beth Orton and Richard Ashcroft.



With songwriters, says Tom, it's very identifiable what the music is about, and that's what changes from record to record they're giving you a new slice of what?s happened to them. Such things are buried within our music. We have to use sounds to communicate those ideas or feelings.?



As he often does, Ed picks up where Tom left off. "Our personalities are in the record, but in a very abstract way, he says. On every album it seems there is at least one track that gets right at the heart of where I am. Last album, it was Out of Control, the song Bernard Sumner sang. Id been partying a bit, and travelling a lot... things were a bit crazy. That song made perfect sense for me."



Tom interjects. "This album we had this amazing moment with Richard Ashcroft. We weren't sure how it would go with him in the studio, but when he got into the booth to record his vocals, it was just like, "Oh my God!?? The resultant track, the album's closer, is up there with anything the duo has produced. Warm synths and flutes pulse as Ashcroft?s deep, instantly-recognizable voice slices through. Gradually, the song builds to a frenetic pace of guitar riffs and pounding big drum beats, before coming back down to a quiet patter: the calm after the sonic storm. ?There's this couplet," says Ed, amazement clear in his eyes, "You know I almost lost my mind, but now I?m home and I?m free. Did I pass the acid test?? It was just like, that?s it! Exactly!"



Ed's sentiment speaks well to the hoops of expectation they've been jumping through, or around, since they won a Best Rock Instrumental. Grammy in 1997 for their Block Rockin? Beats single. It sounded like a good thing for electronic music at the time, but history has proven the award to be as inappropriate as singer/songwriter Warron Zevon?s 1998 trophy for best metal recording. Techno, with its subverted melodies, dominate basslines and only irregular hints of vocal choruses, was no more rock then than it is now, no more rock than Polka. Consequently, Tom and Ed have had to bear the albatross of Next Big Thingdom for five years now; the acid test they?ve passed is one of shrugging off the attention of success while making the kind of music they want to make.



As is typical of the Chems? albums, Come With Us travels quite a bit of sonic space. Ed offers a hesitant analogy: ?I?d hate to say we?re making a soundtrack to a night in a club, but I think anyone who is in that world knows it isn?t all up, up, up. Our records have moments of great joy and catharsis and release. Then there are some moments that have a real sadness to them?a melancholy. I find that?s exactly how clubs are. For every moment at 4am when there is a perfect track and a thousand people losing it and smiling, there is a bit at 5 o?clock where people are sort of slumped over, no one has anything to say and there?s this feeling of desperation of still being out. It?s all in there.?



Tom and Ed?s good friend Beth Orton speaks to the 5am desperation. ?Never said it was sunshine,? she sings, drunk on her own melancholy. ?But you took it all of the time.? Out of the gate, the track coasts on Orton?s wrenching emotion, just a few simple notes and her plaintive cries. Then it?s a sunshiney guitar number. Then it?s a delicate, melodic chime. Then it?s a pulsing techno groove, replete with cowbells. ?I love the idea of creating a whole different kind of pop song,? says Tom, who is good enough friends with Orton to have written the lyrics himself. ?Maybe it has parts of a pop song, a couplet, and a melody. But the whole idea is inverted or rearranged.?



Of course, the ?problem? with such unrestrained creative flow is that commercial radio is not really warm to it. ?They really don?t have a radio single on this album,? says Alison Tarnofsky, the publicist for The CB?s label: Astralwerks. ?don?t get me wrong, their next single, Star Guitar, is a great, great track. But it?s not the kind of song that radio stations are going to jump on.? She?s right on both counts: few if any commercial radio stations in America are interesting enough to play Star Guitar?and it is great. Like the best Chemical Brothers tracks, it traverses various atmospheres of sound, transitioning so deftly, one doesn?t realize the track has moved on until you?re hearing an entirely different beat. But if it?s not on radio, it?s tough to get it to the masses. Even MTV, the aging Godfather of record revenue couldn?t do the trick for labelmate Fatboy Slim; despite a high-stepping Christopher Walken, the heavy rotation his classic Weapon of Choice video received didn?t translate to radio play or substantial sales.



?We?re pretty aware that one song would let you do what you like on a record,? says Ed. ?We?re also aware that we haven?t really got that song on this record. With Hey Boy, Hey Girl or Block Rockin Beats?for us, those tracks don?t define the albums that they come from. They?re the cuts that people from all walks can get into, you know? I always found it amazing that Led Zeppelin could be really massive and play huge concerts and never release singles. I?d love it if you could do that now, but you do need that song, and we haven?t really got it.?



That?s not to say they haven?t already had magnanimous success with It Began In Afrika?the first single to drop off Come With Us. The track begins with a vocal sample, ?It began in Afrika,? which sounds huge on club systems?a trail of ?ka-ka-ka-ka? echoing into forever, and launches into the sort of drums that first gave ?big beat? its name. The Brothers had taken a test-pressing to some of their gigs in the middle of last year, and it received such great response from the crowds that they sent a few white labels to DJ friends. The track became an almost-overnight success, quickly climbing the UK charts, as well as the Billboard DJ Play charts in the US. Will its drums break onto commercial airwaves? Probably not.



?There?s no compulsion to do things that we don?t like,? says Tom. ?If there?s a happy flux of coincidence and these things come together and you?re left with this piece of music that seems quite digestible, all the better for it. But if it?s not working like that, let?s not force it. You?ve got to be honest with yourself about what you want out of the record. Because you?re going to hear it enough times that if you don?t like it, you?ll drive yourself mad.?



?We?ve never done it to be famous or to make loads of cash,? says Ed. ?It?s just about getting that thing out to people. I don?t know why Tom does it and he probably doesn?t know why I do it.? Tom continues Ed?s thought: ?It?s this sense of infinite possibility. You sit down, and you can go any direction. That to me is still an exciting thing. It?s like you?re in the studio making music and you can create this self-sufficient kind of world. I find that such a turn on. And the day I don?t??



Astralwerk?s Tarnofsky comes by to end the interview, handing over a precious pair of tickets to the Brothers sold-out Friday night gig at Centrofly, New York?s best club for international DJ stars. Tom laughs: ?Time to stop all this pontificating and get down to the real nitty-gritty!?



?[break]



Much has been written about the aftermath of the September 11 attacks on New York and DC, and the depressing effect they have had on entertainment sales. ?We still have big nights, and then you can?t tell,? says Dave Baxley, one of the managers at Centrofly. ?But in general, things are down about twenty to twenty-five percent.? Chalk The Chemical Brothers gig up as a ?can?t tell? evening then. Lines stretch around the block in both directions from the door, and the floor inside is so crowded, it?s nearly impossible to dance.



Nearly. The Chemical Brothers lead the gathered on the sort of dancefloor excursion they have come to be known for, hopping from house to techno to breaks to psychedelic trancey tracks that generally have the masses going nutty.



?It wasn?t a set you would expect to hear from your typical globetrotting DJ,? says Baxley, himself an enthusiast of the music. ?I looked into their bag and it seemed like everything was dub plates. That?s what?s so refreshing to me, and I think the crowd too. I believe they played a sample from The Who at one point. A bunch of us were listening, trying to identify what they were playing. Sometimes we just couldn?t.?



But as taken as Baxley is by the music, he seems more impressed by the duo themselves. ?They just go out of their way to be non rockstar-like,? he says. ?I was leading them down through the crowd to their dressing room downstairs and we couldn?t get them through. People would say ?Oh hey Ed,? or ?Oh hey Tom,? and they couldn?t help but stop and talk to people. They weren?t trying to brush anyone off. It became a problem?they would stop and talk to people and accept their thanks graciously and even get into conversations. I don?t know if I would necessarily want to have a thousand people watching me and trying to touch me. A lot of times, DJs just want to sneak out.?



After the set, Tom is hanging around the club, sipping a cocktail, talking to more fans. ?I think that went awright,? he says, a master of understatement considering the intensity of the crowd?s response all night long. ?People seemed to follow along, eh??



? [break]



Tom and Ed are sitting in a conference room of Astralwerks? offices, a couple of days after their gig. It?s been a long day of interviews, and the two are typically fidgety. While speaking, Tom uses a Black Sharpie marker to outline every image and letter on the back cover of a copy of Time Out New York. When he finishes his outlines, he starts in with amateurish doodles. Ed pushes his pack of Silk Cuts endlessly around the table and generally stares at his lap while talking.



The pair?s personas?their normalcy, if you will?may be partly to blame for why their music receives less attention than it warrants. In today?s day and age, big glossy ?music? magazines are more interested in drug addictions and celebrity status?or at least feeding trivium about multi-platinum-selling artists to the masses?than quality music. Tom and Ed, with woefully little to talk about in that department, are behind a media eight ball of sorts, devoid of any sex-changes or embarrassing public arrests in seedy hotel rooms with gaggles of Thai prostitutes.



Tom laughs off the suggestion that they might spice up their career with some deviant behavior, but acknowledges that the media has overlooked them at times. ?It?s a funny thing about the US press,? he says, doodling away. ?When we came out with Dig Your Own Hole (97), it received so much attention. Rolling Stone did this big feature about Prodigy and us and how we were the future. It made it difficult when we put out Surrender and it didn?t get that sort of attention.? Of course, 1997 was the year techno almost imploded, when the powers that be decided ?electronica? was the next big thing, inflated it with hype, than left it to die on the vine when it didn?t instantly sell millions of albums.



Quietly as it may have been received, Surrender made a strong case that the Brothers were among the top producers in music?not just electronic. Think about this: The album sported a track each with vocals from the captain of Oasis: Noel Gallagher, Bernard Sumner of New Order and Hope Sandoval: formerly of Mazzy Star. Sumner?s Out of Control captured the ballast, beat and techno angst of vintage New Order while modernizing it for today?s dance floors; it sounded at once vintage and utterly fresh. Similarly, Asleep from Day utilized the haunting beauty of Sandoval?s voice in a way that hadn?t been done since Mazzy Star?s heyday in 1993. Both songs were frankly better than anything found on either Star?s solo debut or the much-anticipated first New Order album in eight years, both released late in 2001. That?s no small trick, making artists sound better than, well, themselves.



Music critics at large ought to consider The Chemical Brothers in terms of the range of contemporary musicians. It?s fine to recognize that no other electronic artist?not Hawtin, not Craig, not Cox, not Underworld, not Orbital, not Moby, not anyone?has released four albums that have struck such a healthy balance between interesting, adventuresome music and commercial success. But why confine it to techno? Look at the list of musicians?any musicians?that have released four top-of-their-game albums since 1995, and suddenly you?re treading rarified ground, sharing space with the likes of Bjork, Dan the Automator and very few others.



From the vantage point of The Chemical Brothers, the critics might also want to rethink their grim predictions for the techno world. ?There?s a lot of talk in England about how this scene is on its last legs,? says Ed, ?and I find it quite mystifying. There was this big industry created and magazines and a lot of records sold. But people always love dancing. I went to Notting Hill Carnival the other day, and I just loved it. Everywhere you went, people were dancing, a million people in the street. To me, that?s what it?s about. Maybe that big industry thing will be on a decline, or that certain set of DJs that people recognize as big will be on a decline. But that basic thing: to enjoy dance music, that will never go away.



?We?d only been here 48 hours,? continues Ed, ?and all these people were like, ?Why is the scene in America not really happening?? It?s such a strange thing. We buy all these amazing records from America. Most cities have a good club happening. We?ve met fantastically creative people. And American music is basically at the core of most things that happen around the world. There are people having fun with it. So what?s the thing that?s missing??



Their DJ set at Centrofly was case in point, several thousand people from a supposedly depressed city going absolutely bananas. Tom is touched to think that their gig may have elicited a greater-than-usual response from the post-9/11 crowd. ?After everything that has happened, people are just looking for an excuse to have fun,? muses Tom. ?If anything, if we look back to these days and we were an excuse for people to have fun in a difficult time, then that would be enough for me.?



?You hear about people having these crazy dance experiences,? says Ed. ?I go to clubs now and I don?t usually get into it like that anymore. But there was a time when for me that was everything, when a DJ or a band could make me really lose it and jump up and down.?



Tom smiles a little smile, a sly nod to the universal experience of the 4am Moment. ?I think fondly on the people who made me do that, you know??



We do.



Sidebar: The Chemical Brothers discuss their favorite records.



Tom: One I have loved for a long time and still come back to is The House of God by Dimensional Holophonic Sound. It?s by a guy called Ben Stokes. It came out in 1990 and it was really kind of out there. It?s techno music but quite slow, quite muddily produced. It?s intoxicating. It?s an EP and it has a track called Bad Acid on it. It sounds like it?s made by someone who has listened to a lot of dance music but just does something really different. ?Bad Acid? is a very fitting name for it.



Ed: A record called Standing in the Rain by Don Ray, produced by Cerrone. It?s almost high NRG but quite funky. Very early, like ?79 or something. It?s one of those accidental dance records, this climbing bassline and pulsing synths. It has a very passionate, divaesque vocal. It?s a record David Mancuso used to play at The Loft. It represents to me this period when people didn?t really know what they were doing when making sort of dancey-druggy records, but it still works?big and quite melancholy.



Ed: Your Love by Frankie Knuckles. Just incredible. And again, something made at an early time when it wasn?t all about people getting these huge synths in. The vocal by Jamie Principal is really an otherworldly thing. When you were in England and you heard those records with those sort of gay, black vocals on there?I don?t know if he is gay, but those camp male vocals?you?re in a club and you heard that record, it?s so? otherworldly.



Tom: Remain in Light by Talking Heads. It?s like pop music, music you can get a hold of. But it?s so funky and sounds so interesting. There?s so much going on there. It?s an inspirational record. It?s quite distilled, a real vision Brian Eno and David Byrne. All these things meeting together?a collision of the funky. And it really fits together as an album.



Ed: I was at a party the other day and I heard Pump Up The Volume by Mars. That is wicked. I heard that when I was 16 years old and it was like, ?What is that!?? I remember going to discos in South London and hearing it. It was really funky and otherworldly as well.



Ed: Heaven or Las Vegas by the Cocteau Twins. That?s the record I put on the most at home. I don?t know what songs are on it, and that?s what I love about it. I?ve had it for about six years, and it?s just something I put on and everything seems ok. I love the way it sounds. Even at no volume, it fills the room with music. I like the way it sounds kind of the same the whole way through.



Tom: Early hip hop sounded so rough and raw. Less the rapping and more the way the drums sounded. So big and no other music was really doing that. I loved the drum, really. All the records of that time. The Marley Marl productions and the Mantronics and BDP.



Tom: Energy Flash by Joey Beltram. I listened to it the other day and it was just like, you know, when you first heard it. You couldn?t believe where this record was coming from. It had that sort of acid house thing to it, but with the fullness of sound of modern dance records. Just the subtle changes in the envelope of the boomp boomp womp womp. People went spastic to that one.



Tom: Another record a bit like Heaven in Las Vegas on the fact that it all sounds the same and you just get lost in it is A Storm In Heaven by the Verve. Some people said it was over-produced and not rocky enough. But John Leckie produced it and I think it sounds amazing, a beautiful record. I remember I was in my car once driving back from Scotland, and I just put it on, driving through rolling countryside with these big hills and this music is so vast. It?s a beautiful thing.

whirlygirl Escribi�:

Tom: Another record a bit like Heaven in Las Vegas on the fact that it all sounds the same and you just get lost in it is A Storm In Heaven by the Verve. Some people said it was over-produced and not rocky enough. But John Leckie produced it and I think it sounds amazing, a beautiful record. I remember I was in my car once driving back from Scotland, and I just put it on, driving through rolling countryside with these big hills and this music is so vast. It?s a beautiful thing.[/i]

hah! that would make a good title for the chems forum CD

Caint wait to read it all , but first i will watc Bloc party Live @ Pinkpop holland ...hallulja to internet!



I just read the first part , APPLEJUICE hahaa , me to whirly , i just want to hugg them haahahha :-// They are so adorable!

That was so nice whirly , this are some of the most intressting interviews. The beginning just makes me want to hug them hhahaha and the part where they talk about there fave records gives me some new ideas of stuff to listen to.

Bluh my english gets worse when i get tired

more interviews

Did you have a clear initial idea of the new album when you were starting?

- It started - just us thinking about doing another record, quite fired up and quite enthusiastic, after a long time away and we had a lot of ideas coming into the studio. We just really wanted to do another record; we just wanted to go back to the studio after 2 years of touring. We had no particular view of what it had to sound like at the end.



Do you start from a blank sheet?

- It is always the way it works, we can only really write and record when we have our studio, we are not on laptops, we like having our synths and stuff. When we are on tour we just concentrate on being on tour and adding to that, so we really don?t think about making or writing new music in that period. The focus is on the music that we are making every night as a part of the gig we are doing, so it is like a cycle of things.



Does it get easier making an album?

- I think it gets harder to make, we are searching for new sounds and new ways of doing things. It is not like we are personally songwriters, for us making songs and producing records it is about sound effects, creating sounds and emotions. It has become more difficult to find things that inspire us.

Do you disagree in the studio?

- Yea - we can be quite critical of each other. I don?t think that we could have lasted so long if there weren?t a basic understanding of what we find exciting about music. If something good is happening in the studio we both know it is happening and know it is good. The dynamic is for us to keep and to make that feeling between us. After about 11 years of DJing together and a massive amount of records that have excited us and a lot of records that we have made together, we still have, in the studio to have the same level of excitement. It doesn?t make us argue but it is frustrating in a way that you can?t hit that height, but when you do reach it is even more gratifying. There were times when it wasn?t pleasant making this record, because it is hard to get it to the next step where you can feel really buzzed up.



How much editing goes into the tracks?

- Because we have been working on the music simultaneously for 1� year, we have been working on a pool of tracks, things sort of groves alongside each other so you get a feeling of things being a set of music. I like the way that this record works and it sounds like ? you know music moves all soft of different places ? it feels like it all fit in together. The way we mix the record together and the way we place the tracks is very important for us, and we spent a lot of time making it work.

Playing live how important is that for you?

- I love playing live ? but we can?t do that when we are writing and making a record, we don?t want to take down our studio for playing live. So we usually only play live after we have finished making a record. But I am looking forward to be able to create the environment where our music should be heard. It?s always been about that, even when we started playing live we spent all our money on getting surround sound systems and spending a lot of money on getting the right place to listen to our music. When we are in the studio we got amazing loudspeakers listening to ? It?s just another experience than listening at home. People coming to our gigs we give them this full on sensory thing.

Do you have the freedom to do what you like?

- We have always had that freedom, when we came to Virgin, we had already made the first album. It was made without any outside interference, that was ?Exit planet dust? and that record did well. It set this sort of template for people letting us go on what we wanted to do. We have been lucky ? we have strong ideas about our music and what it should be and we think we are the best people to do it ? and we do it. We both like music that means something to people, we experiment a lot, we like music that can effect you. If that has helped the music to be popular ? it probably has -because of us liking that kind of music.



How do you feel about remixing; whom does the track belong to?

- I see that ?Life Is Sweet? as a Daft Punk track and the Underworld mix of ?Leave home? I see as an Underworld track as well. Remixing for us is just a fun part to do; it is not part of a big scheme, it doesn?t have to fit into an idea of an album or a single, it just a change of trying things out on other peoples music.

Do you see the DJ role as artistic in the same way as a songwriter?

- Yea I do ? what some DJ can do is an incredible skill and people denigrate it by saying it is less of a skill of playing an electric guitar ? watching someone like Sasha and Carl Cox is incredible. The technical virtue is amazing it?s a good sound that makes people go off at the same time, it?s something that connects with people. When we are DJing we are pleased if we put it together well and all has gone well. Many can play two records at the same time, but how to build a set and how to get people into the ?state of mind? and the idea of playing records - playing different records is a real skill. That is something people don?t realize before they hear someone who can do it.



As DJ?s ? do you DJ as a pair, track by track or are you taking turns?

- It stared with us playing two tracks each, now it?s who is most confident about playing a certain track - but basically it?s taking turns each 20 minutes or something like that. Two records are always good, so you don?t just have to think one in advance; you have someone else to play the next one. So you can think about the two after that. It?s good to be two people because you can end up with a lot of records out of their sleeves.



Can you beat mix?

- No not at all. Only last year we got some decks and a mixer at home. It was more the fact when we started DJing in London in 1993/94 we just had these records that nobody else had. We had an idea of the music we wanted people to hear. That was our thing doing someone else wasn?t doing, so we still feel this is important when we are DJing ? to mix things up, doing different things.



How do you regard living in public life?

- I think we have the right level of recognisability ? if you want to go to a club late, you can get in. At the same time walking around the streets no one would be looking at you.

very interesting interview. a nice read. good one whirly

independant interview



They may be the biggest thing in dance music since the mixer was invented, but you'd be hard pushed to spot The Chemical Brothers - aka Tom Rowlands, 33, and Ed Simons, 34 - in a crowd. It's probably a result of all that time spent indoors realigning his hard drive that Simons could easily pass for a computer salesman or a schoolteacher - almost anything, in fact, except one half of a world-famous dance duo. Rowlands, who has finally abandoned his long indie-kid tresses in favour of a more sensible crop, is at least vaguely recognisable in his trademark tinted specs, though he, too, retains the look of someone who could do with getting out more.



We meet at The Social, a central-London offshoot of the legendary Heavenly Social, the cramped basement club in central London where, 11 years ago, under the stolen alias The Dust Brothers, Simons and Rowlands famously demonstrated their disregard for musical boundaries as they mixed My Bloody Valentine into Grandmaster Flash into Love Unlimited. Their joyously eclectic approach to their art has stood them in good stead. Where other dance acts have foundered with each passing fad, the Chemicals have remained one of the few constants in an ever-changing scene, holding on to a fiercely loyal fan-base comprising ravers, rockers and everyone in between. Now Simons and Rowlands have sold almost seven million albums and had 13 chart hits in the UK, two of them No 1s. They also have the distinction of being the only British dance act ever to win a Grammy, with the 1998 single "Block Rockin' Beats". Their live performances, as popular in Melbourne as in Manchester, have gathered near-mythical status - their show at Glastonbury in 2000 amassed the biggest audience in the festival's history.



The pair met in 1989 at Manchester University while attending a lecture on medieval literature. Their field of study quickly became a source of mirth among critics in the early years, who struggled to take these mild-mannered, middle-class boys seriously. Even now, Rowlands and Simons admit they have something of an image problem. "The 'nerd' tag rather follows us around, though I quite like the fact that we don't fit into someone else's idea of what a dance musician should be," Rowlands remarks. "It was never about us, anyway; we never wanted to be rock stars. We're happy for the music to be bigger than us."



Still, it must be a relief, I suggest, that they have managed to remain anonymous. Not many multimillion-selling artists can still go to the supermarket in peace. Rowlands agrees, though Simons doesn't look so convinced. When I ask if he ever gets recognised, it's with an air of melancholy that he replies: "Only when we're together. And even then we have to be in a nightclub, preferably with a bag of records over our shoulders." The Chemicals are as surprised as anyone that they've lasted the course in such a fickle business. They're also the first to admit that, while they're not quite ready for the pipe and slippers, as they approach their mid-thirties, their desire to hang around in sweaty clubs has started to dwindle. "We DJ maybe six or seven times a year, but apart from that we tend not to bother," Simons says. "I wouldn't go to a club particularly out of pleasure now. We live more vicariously through DJ reports or friends texting us to say, 'They've just played your record, and the crowd loved it.'"



"Even in the early days, we didn't go to clubs purely as a social thing," Rowlands adds. "It was the music we were interested in. I think one of the reasons we became DJs was because we liked having something to do other than just stand around. We always liked the music but we were never very good at the small talk."



Rowlands and Simons use the word "we" rather a lot. Having worked together so closely for so long - for three years the pair were flatmates, though now they live two streets apart in west London - they've become like a married couple, tuned to one another's idiosyncrasies and with a spooky ability to read each other's thoughts. Also typical of a married couple are the times that they suddenly, and very vocally, disagree. When Simons remarks that he had imagined adapting their sound as they got older and crafting a less frenetic signature sound, Rowlands cries: "I never thought that! I'm still really excited by noisy records. Things don't suddenly switch off just because you've reached a certain age. There are mornings when I wake up and want to listen to a Ramones album. Other mornings, I might like to listen to Nick Drake. That's the same whether you are 17 or 37. For us to make an album that bears no relation to our past just because we're 10 years older would be totally wrong. "

Though Simons and Rowlands have "blistering" arguments in the studio, neither considers their close working relationship unusual. "It's probably significant that we were friends before we ever started to work together," Simons says. "And the fact that we do work together means we've got a lot to talk about, which helps."



The main topic of discussion right now is their fifth LP, Push the Button, which is released on Monday. In terms of beats, the album is business as usual, with Rowlands and Simons drawing on a range of genres, from rock and rap to Bollywood film soundtracks, to create a collage of propulsive anthems. The impassioned vocal contribution of the rising US rapper Anwar Superstar to "Left Right" brings one of its most powerful moments. Detailing a soldier's mounting disillusionment with his job, it's by far the most political statement the Chemicals have made. "In the Nineties, our records were very much about escapism and sensory deprivation," Simons reflects. "It used to be about turning away from the world, but now it feels like you can't keep doing that. People are much more politicised, and rightly so. We did think very hard about whether this was the right thing to do - saying something so explicit is a big change for us - but now we're very proud of it."



It's possibly a result of the changes in the dance scene as much as the political environment that the Chemicals have felt the need to adapt, though Simons isn't sure about the need to evolve. "I don't think music necessarily has a responsibility to reflect the times," he says. "Some of the best music has been totally out of its time. Dance music is always relevant because, whatever's going on in the world, people will always want to get together and dance. There was a period in the mid-Nineties when the dance scene turned into a massive industry, but that was really a blip. Now it's back to like it was in Seventies and Eighties, when lots of great house and hip-hop was being made simply for the love of it."



"It's not so much that dance music has collapsed," adds Rowlands; "it's more that it's become totally assimilated. It's not this separate entity any more. Take one of the big rock bands at the moment, like Franz Ferdinand - you can see they're completely influenced by dance, both in the sound they make and in the way they approach making music. It's not like in the Nineties, when a band would get a DJ to bolt on some shuffly beats. These are people that have grown up with electronic music, so it comes naturally to them."



Defending dance music is clearly something to which Simons and Rowlands have become accustomed. Their place in dance history may be assured, but, given the genre's plummeting popularity, their role in its future is a lot less certain. For now, though, they're content to continue making records, playing live and, on special occasions, making guest DJ appearances. As far as they're are concerned, they're in it for the long haul.



"To be honest, I've never imagined doing anything else," Rowlands says. "What will I be doing in 20 years' time? Well, I probably won't be dancing on a beach in Ibiza, but I can guarantee that I'll still be making music. I love that feeling when you create a sound that has the capacity to make a crowd go completely berserk. It's overwhelming. It's simply not a feeling that either of us is prepared to give up."

'Drugs and clubs? That's the only test people have now'



Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons, aka the Chemical Brothers, tell Alexis Petridis about writing, DJing and the demise of national service



Friday January 25, 2002

The Guardian







As Ed Simons knows only too well, the Chemical Brothers have something of an image problem. When the topic comes up, his face takes on an expression somewhere between pain and bemusement.

And well it might. In the past eight years, Simons, 32, and partner Tom Rowlands, 31, have amassed an enviable list of achievements. The Chemical Brothers have presided over one of the most celebrated British clubs in history.



Their four startling albums have broken new ground and invented new genres, and been rewarded with number-one singles and a Grammy (bizarrely, Block Rockin' Beats snatched the 1998 gong for Best Rock Instrumental). Their live shows have transcended the usual presentational dilemmas faced by electronic dance acts, offering a stark, dramatic and mind-blowing son et lumi�re experience to wild acclaim.



Their appearance at Glastonbury 2000 drew the largest crowd in the festival's history. They have sold more than 6m albums and their 2001 single It Began in Afrika may well be the most wilfully extreme and experimental piece of music ever to make the Top 10. However, as Simons says, glowering: "The nerdy-guy myth is pretty well-travelled."



Simons is by nature a worrier. A smoker since the age of 13, he admits to "sitting here stinging" over the handful of criticisms in the largely positive reviews of their fourth album, Come With Us.



But there is certainly truth in his view that the Chemical Brothers are largely viewed as "nerdy squares" by the media. Delight is taken in the duo's uneventful middle-class upbringings in Henley-on-Thames (Rowlands) and South London's Herne Hill (Simons).



Much is made of their past as students. They met while studying medieval literature at Manchester university - an early single was titled 14th Century Sky, in tribute to their love of the period. Both specialised in Chaucer. Despite the evenings they spent DJ-ing and exploring cheap "loony soup" lager and amyl nitrate, both scored 2:1s.



"We weren't into the just-getting-by ethic at all," says Simons, his voice tinged with suspicion when their studiousness is mentioned. "We did history and some people treated it as a joke, something you could just do two weeks before the exams started. We treated it as something we really enjoyed and got a lot out of. It's the same with making our records now. It's what we do, so we work really hard at it."



It's not just their past that leads people to assume the Chemical Brothers are a pair of aloof boffins. The most common adjective used to describe Rowlands and Simons is "diffident". Part of the problem is their dislike of that pop-star staple, discussing your personal life in interviews. Simons famously described such behaviour as "an odd way to carry on". Rowlands won't even countenance discussion of the lyrics he occasionally contributes to Chemical Brothers tracks.



They chose their friend, folk singer Beth Orton, for the vocals on Come With Us's solitary ballad The State We're In because, says Rowlands: "I can't imagine saying to one of the other vocalists we've worked with, like Bernard Sumner or Noel Gallagher, 'These are the words for my song, can you sing it?' " Attempts to probe any further into the song's meaning are rebuffed with a silent, enigmatic smile. Eventually, you just give up and ask about something else.



Further fuel has been added to the nerdy-guy myth. There's the suggestion that their closeness is a bit peculiar. At a time when manufactured bands largely consist of hand-picked strangers, the duo claimed to have only spent two weeks of each year apart since meeting in 1989. They were flatmates for three years.



These days, they live three streets apart in west London. Rowlands is married with a baby daughter and Simons is in a long-term relationship. Tellingly, both have a tendency to leave sentences hanging in mid-air, half-finished. Rowlands describes the harsh, percussive hammering of It Began in Afrika as "jungle noises... spaceships... future primitive". It's as if you should instinctively know what they mean.



"If I'm in the studio working on my own, I can feel this kind of...presence," says Rowlands. "This Ed presence around me, looking over my shoulder, going: 'Oh, I don't know about that.'"



"We don't really have an element of friction between us," says Simons. "We're friends, and our friendship is more important than the music that we make." He pauses. "Some of the time."



There are certainly a lot of in-jokes shared between them, but, in person, the Chemical Brothers hardly resemble an impenetrable and foreboding cabal. The duo are amiable, chatty, possessed of a dry wit and a keen sense of dance music's ridiculousness. Simons was tickled by a recent TV show featuring a DJ's rosy-hued recollections of minds being opened during 1988's Summer of Love: "Bricklayers used to come up and give him poetry while he was DJ-ing," he says.



The only people Simons and Rowlands seem to have upset during their career are Boy George (who demonstrated his grasp of the Wildean bon mot by dubbing them "the cunt brothers") and a crowd at Ibiza's Space club, who were reduced to tears by a Chemicals DJ set.



Nevertheless, some people express a sense of disappointment that Rowlands and Simons don't embody more of their music's characteristics. They forget that anyone who did embody the prevelant characteristics of an average Chemical Brothers record would be relentlessly aggressive, monstrously loud, overblown and under the influence of vast quantities of psychedelics. Brian Blessed in a frothing, LSD-induced fury. Someone you'd spot a mile off, then cross the street to avoid. The last person you'd want to interview in a cafe at Westbourne Park in London at 11.30 on a Sunday morning.



By contrast, Rowlands and Simons pass unnoticed as they sip their herbal tea. Their anonymity is slightly surprising. Aside from Keith Flint, the Prodigy's idiotically haired, extravagantly pierced, make-up-sporting frontman, the duo are probably dance music's most recognisable couple.



Neither glamorous nor particularly nerdy, Simons and Rowlands still have something inexplicably striking about them. Recently, one music magazine reported that female Japanese fans felt the pair inspired "kawaii - the love one feels for small furry animals". As Julie Burchill once remarked of Slade guitarist Dave Hill, the Chemical Brothers have faces you are unlikely to forget.



Rowlands is additionally memorable because he doesn't actually appear to have changed his clothes for the past eight years. He may have finally divested himself of his long raver's tresses (a hairstyle he maintained long after even the most redoubtable raver had given it up as a bad job), but today, as every day, he sports slightly flared jeans, battered trainers and tinted spectacles. The duo's international success, their number-one singles, their increasing wealth - none of it has had any impact whatsoever on his wardrobe.



Perhaps he has his mind on higher things. Rowlands and Simons claim that the way records like Come With Us sound - overloaded, crazed, saturated with distorted beats and psychedelic noises - has less to do with their own personalities or drug consumption than an ongoing desire to make the listener feel "overwhelmed by sound".



When they start discussing their music's ability to "mess with your mind", they don't sound diffident at all. There's something of the mad scientist about their excited talk of concepts such as their bewildering "Turin Shroud Theory of Implied Music" ("It must have been a good afternoon when we came up with that one," nods Rowlands sagely), and their musical quest for transcendence.



"If you can sit in front of a computer in the studio and feel totally transported by the sound you're making, then that's the most fun there is to be had making music," says Rowlands. "Sometimes when we're onstage, playing a track like [1997 single] The Private Psychedelic Reel and it's really loud, you just don't feel that you're anything to do with this piece of music. It's just happening and you're holding onto the sound desk, going, 'Fucking hell!' It sounds like there's a plane going over your head. I don't feel, 'Wow, I've created this thing - I'm in an incredible position of power.' I'm just experiencing what the person in the audience who hasn't made the music is experiencing. It's all about giving me dem feelings." Listen to the audio clip (49secs)



"We like doing it to ourselves," adds Simons, succinctly.



Nevertheless, they have become used to their music's unpredictable effects on others. The unfortunately coiffeured "world's fastest heavy metal guitarist" Joe Satriani sent them a cassette featuring him frantically soloing over one of their tracks ("I think that's one for the Chemical Brothers Anthology box set," says Rowlands). Then they received a puzzling video from former Van Halen vocalist David Lee Roth "of himself, running around his house, getting up to no good, with one of our tunes in the background and him singing over the top of it".



Even Roth's curious behaviour was topped by an Australian fan who calls himself Dan Rad. "He used to rap over our records and then send us the tapes," says Rowlands, shaking his head. "It was just him shouting all this obscene stuff. 'She tells me I'm listening to my music too loud so I say faack off yew baaah-sted! My eardrums are fackin' bleeding, yew drongo!' We haven't heard from him in a while, but we're going to Australia soon. Perhaps he could get onstage with us, do a bit of MC-ing."



They may not look particularly mythic, but in the past eight years, that's exactly what the Chemical Brothers have become. The story of their reign as DJs at the Heavenly Sunday Social - a club held in a packed, grubby Marylebone pub basement during the summer and autumn of 1994 - is enshrined in dance-music legend, and talked about in hushed and reverential tones. To have been present during their four-month residency is still a badge of honour, an e-generation equivalent of having seen the Sex Pistols at the 100 Club. Listen to the audio clip (1min 25)



The Sunday Social's fabled reputation is partly due to the number of celebrities who turned up - Primal Scream, Tricky, the Stone Roses. There was something groundbreaking and thrilling about the music Rowlands and Simons played at the Sunday Social.



Uniquely for the time, they were unconstrained by the rigid generic boundaries of dance music. Pounding acid techno was mixed in with old Beatles records, hip-hop, ska, the Manic Street Preachers - anything they felt would fit the mood of druggy abandon.



Rowlands and Simons were doing nothing more complicated than playing records they liked, but the results were refreshing, unpredicatable and kaleidoscopic: a mix that, for the first time, placed the notoriously insular world of dance music in a wider context.



This filtered through into the Chemical Brothers' albums, which pitched unlikely guest vocalists against their unruly sound. Their debut, Exit Planet Dust, offered a collision of distorted hip-hop drums with techno effects and guitars. U2 guitarist the Edge claimed it was his favourite record of 1994. "It said, 'This is the way forward and what we should all be doing,'" commented Norman Cook, who later adopted its style to vast success as Fatboy Slim.



Their second album, 1997's Dig Your Own Hole, featured Noel Gallagher on the number one single Setting Sun. It proved to be one of the most influential and pivotal albums of the 1990s, an evocation of the clubbing experience remarkable both for its musical breadth and its emotional depth.



Dance music has always had problems expressing anything more profound than the earth-shattering notion that dancing and drugs are fun ("Not such bad things to say," smirks Simons). But Dig Your Own Hole shifted from euphoria through numb nihilism to desperate melancholy. Like Rowlands's sartorial sense, it remains unchanged by time: no mean feat in the accelerated culture of dance music, where styles and genres are rendered obsolete overnight.



Today, the venue of the Sunday Social is now a chain pub. More bizarrely, the boundaries between rock and dance, which the Chemical Brothers did as much as anyone to destroy, have been hastily erected once more.



In Manchester, nu-metal-worshipping Moshers and garage-loving Scallies are involved in running battles around the city. Rock has returned to its workmanlike roots. Earthy, earnest musicianship in the early 1970s tradition is big again, and regards artists armed with samplers as deeply suspicious.



Dance music, meanwhile, has greedily abandoned any pretence of innovation and become risibly frivolous and disposable: it is the province of DJ Alligator and Do You Really Like It?. The Chemical Brothers may still express the desire to work with artists as disparate as Bob Dylan ("We got word back that he'd like a formal letter, telling him exactly what it would entail," Simons smiles) and US rappers Outkast, but elsewhere the twain no longer meet. In 2002, the only place you're likely to hear a rock star collaborating with a dance act is Come With Us, where trad-rocking Richard Ashcroft sings over wriggling beats on album-closer The Test.



"There's no cross-pollination going on," agrees Simons. "The rock music that's big is so boring. The idea of us doing a Travis remix... what would that be?" "It would be pretty rubbish," says Rowlands.



But if times have changed since the days of the Sunday Social, so have the Chemical Brothers. Their previous album, 1999's Surrender, contained tracks called Out of Control, Under the Influence and Got Glint? - the latter being Rowlands and Simons' slang for "Were you out until 11 o'clock in the morning?" Despite the nerdy-guy myth, the strict work ethic and the aversion to celebrity hang-outs such as the Met Bar, the duo were well-known in the dance scene for their love of a hedonistic party.



By contrast, amid the invigorating mayhem of tracks like My Elastic Eye and Galaxy Bounce, Come With Us features Richard Ashcroft plaintively moaning: "I almost lost my mind, but now I'm home and I'm free." If Rowlands looks exhausted during our Sunday meeting, it has less to do with druggy excess than the sleeping patterns of his six-month-old daughter, Matilda. It all sounds suspiciously as if the Chemical Brothers, like most clubbers when they reach their early 30s, are feeling domesticity dragging them away from the strobes and sound systems.



"I really love the words about being home and being free," nods Simons. "For five solid years, I've gone out every Friday night in some form or another, but now if 10 o'clock on a Friday night rolls around and there's nothing on, I'm in for the night. I think both of us feel out of that trap, where we have to be out every night. It's not everybody's idea of freedom, sitting around at home, but for me it is. There's a tyranny of going out. That track's called The Test because you do end up wondering if it's some kind of test you were putting yourself through."



Rowlands continues: "It's the only test that this generation has, really. People need to go through a rite of passsage and because there isn't national service or something anymore, you build your own thing. It sounds stupid, but it's true." Listen to the audio clip (57secs)



We live in an era when club attendance figures are plummeting and the chill-out album reigns supreme. But if Rowlands and Simons are feeling the lure of the sofa, where does that leave their brand of punishing dancefloor psychedelia? Does their future hold nothing but odes to the simple pleasures of family life?



Simons snorts. "Nah. We still like to stand in the studio with the speakers on full pelt, listening to something that takes you back into that... "



Characteristically, his sentence tails off. Rowlands takes up the challenge: "When you're in a club and you hear a record for the first time, you get excited, the music overtakes you. That feeling is what I like about music. If you feel that way, other people feel like that as well... "



Aware his partner is rapidly running out of steam, Simons steps in again: "Just feeling absorbed by sound, giving in to it, feeling unselfconcious about dancing, feeling emotion triggered by the way a track's going." He looks at Rowlands and frowns. "Am I talking out of turn?"



"No," says Rowlands quietly. "I think you're talking perfect sense."

Remember like a long time ago there were this nokia-brazil videoclips , some intervieuws and backstage stuff en livestuff ? Moehahaha , iggy just send them to me , i love them X-D There so funny , ed looks prety nervrous yeah and Tom is just Tom , laughing and talking a lot haha X-D

Ah, here's the Nokia interviews thread!



http://forums.theche...?t=1717&start=0

Great vids indeed! (thanks Jeanie) :D

I remember listening to this on the radio a couple of years back....it's an hour long tribute with interviews, tunes and history and luckily enough triple j (australian radio station) has kept it on it's archieves



so if you guys have some time on your hands...



http://www.abc.net.a...les/s947921.htm

Sweet, thanks kwiddle!



When I've got the time, I'll give it a listen. 2 full hours of uninterrupted time is hard to come by - might have to wait til the whole house is asleep for this one!