The 'Alternating Currents' Legacy Interview: Simon Friend of Levellers
November 1992: The sound of social justice and musical rebellion
Levellers, 1992. Left to right: Jeremy 'Jez' Cunningham, Charlie Heather, Simon Friend, Mark Chadwick and Jon Sevink. Photo: Elektra/David Tonge
Prologue
One is not exactly sure how to accept a derogatory comment from the British. Essentially, you can go either way, especially when it's being thrown out (or up) by the innuendo-laden U.K. music press, perpetrators of all that is hip over there (and not here). But things get tricky when said derogatory comment is supposed to be looked upon as a title - a sort of knighted position amongst commoners. It was with some trepidation then, mingled with American curiosity that I queried Simon Friend, multi-instrumentalist for the Levellers, if he could clarify the exulted “Kings Of Crust” crown that has been bestowed upon his and his fellow bandmates' heads by the aforementioned U.K. rock scribes.
"I knew you were gonna ask me about that one," he laughed, on the phone from his hotel room in Boulder, Colorado. "It's just a media term for something they don't understand, for the same reason they called hippies 'hippies' back in the '60s. Maybe they're a bit scared of it; they'll try and put it down in some kind of derogatory way. And 'crusty' is a derogatory term for somebody who probably has got dreadlocks, listens to a certain type of music, drinks a lot of beer and generally hangs around outside gigs. That's what their idea of a crusty is — some kind of degenerate. The truth is actually far from that.”
It's a situation the band is now trying to disentangle themselves from and Friend, rather serious in the short time we've been talking concluded that although he can't ignore it, “As far as I'm concerned, I'd rather not talk to the English press at all.”
Levellers - One Way (Official Music Video)/℗© Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group/Levellers
This long explanation should send you backpedaling a bit for some information on the Levellers themselves. The 'Kings Of Crust' raggle-tag has (for better or worse) perversely catapulted the four-year-old British band into the stratosphere, brought on by the news I heard about their performance at the Glastonbury Festival, a three-day multi-band, multi-media, multicultural event held just south of London in late June. For all intents and purposes, the Levellers blew everyone (over 50,000 in attendance) out of the water and had most writers falling over one another in a frenzy to describe this new movement known as the 'crusty phenomenon.'
There really is no phenomenon, just a musical and prolific clarity bounding from the band's belief in addressing topical messages and personal issues. Comparisons to The Clash and The Pogues are perhaps redundant at this point in time, although throwing in a mention of Billy Bragg or The Waterboys couldn't hurt. Their American debut Levelling The Land does embody moments of Clash-type beatitudes, but the band – Friend, vocalist Mark Chadwick, bassist Jeremy Cunningham, violinist Jon Sevink and drummer Charlie Heather – reach beyond the raw rock off-putting and employ Celtic jig to their acid folk-inspired tunes, as evidenced by the fiddle-driven conviction of their first single “One Way.” The group's 1988 birth came not from the heartland of England — as you might suspect — but from the south coastal city of Brighton.
"The band was based there for awhile," Friend acknowledged, "but we weren't originally from Brighton." He almost hit dangerously close to crusty territory mentioning that at the moment he's calling a van his home. And speaking of home provinces, Britain continues to expound upon this terrible habit of upping the adjectives on cities that have 'scenes.'
As a matter of Friend-ly opinion, did Brighton fit into this scheme-scene when the Levellers started?
“We try and get away from categorizing anything, whether it's crusty or a particular sound," he remarked. "There's this whole Manchester thing [Charlatans, Happy Mondays, Stone Roses]. But it wasn't just Manchester that did this. As far as I was concerned, it was pretty crap – most of it anyway. I don't think London has a sound or Brighton has a sound or Glasgow has a sound. Everybody just comes out with their own thing. And to actually say that an area has a sound is just bollocks really," and he laughed softly and apologized for swearing.
Levellers — The Riverflow (Live at Glastonbury '92)/℗©Universal Music Publishing Group/Levellers
It was a gentlemanly gesture, as it showed the down-to-earth nature of the band itself, something that hasn't always translated well to print from across the Atlantic. I had initially heard of the Levellers not through the sound but through the word of the U.K. music weeklies, i.e. Melody Maker and New Musical Express (guess where the crusty tag came from?). To the average American not used to perusing these bastions of buzz, the holier-than-thou attitude copped by the journalists can either be a blessing or a curse. Judging from Friend’s earlier tone, I took it to be a deterrent, as he noted that their “last three tours have sold out” and were done without the help of the press, thank you very much.
The support base at home has most notably been coming from their devoted fans, who regularly turn up in numbers reserved for the likes of stadiums and festivals. With this thought in mind, when did Friend see indications that the Levellers time had come?
“I suppose when we signed up with China,” he said, indicating his U.K. record label. “Maybe about six months before that, at the beginning of ‘91.” They had already recorded two EPs in 1989 on their own Hag label and had released an album A Weapon Called the Word on France’s Musicdisc in 1990, all incidentally to rave reviews. “We had trouble with Musicdisc and we figured we couldn’t do anything recording-wise, we’d just go out on the road and play it. It was a bit of a gamble ‘cause we had no record [but] it all went really well. Loads of people got to see us and loved it. That’s when I was thinking, “Yeah, this is really good.”’
“When people do come to you with their problems, you do try and help them out. But it sort of becomes ‘Hang on. I’m just a person who’s trying to get through life the same as everybody else.”
Friend fell into a nice set of circumstances with regards to his employment in the Levellers since he wasn’t around for their initial birth. “A friend of mine told me about the band and I went to see them,” he said. “And I really liked them. I thought, “You bastards! [laughs] You’re doing exactly what I want to do!”” Up until 1990, Friend had been on his own, doing solo acoustic shows. He eventually started ringing up the Levellers’ manager and began “blagging gigs off them, support slots and stuff.” The group already had a mandolin player, who unbeknownst to Friend, was not working out. When the decision came down, Friend took the call and came aboard, full-time. “When they asked me to join, it wasn’t a career move on my part. It was a move because I knew my songs would fit in with what they had done with their songs.”
Levellers — Levelling The Land, ©1991 China Records
The chemistry worked out to everyone’s advantage, so much so that when Levelling the Land was released in the U.K. in October of last year, it entered the music charts at number 14 and has sold in excess of 80,000 copies. “I’m glad if people are listening to some of the stuff we’ve been singing about,” Friend remarked, “as that makes me happy. Because I believe in a lot of what we’re saying. It’s nice to know that other people feel similar.” Sometimes that like gets a little blurry, especially during the times when fans approach him with praise for the band. “It’s really nice, it’s good.” He paused to think. “It’s kind of strange. Obviously, you try and keep your ego in check. None of us think along the lines of ‘we’re gonna save the world.’ When people do come to you with their problems, you do try and help them out. But it sort of becomes ‘Hang on. I’m just a person who’s trying to get through life the same as everybody else.”
Coming over to America for the first time, the Levellers’ message of urgency and energy makes Levelling the Land an album that’s hard to ignore, especially in the powerful “Battle of the Beanfield,” a true story of police attacking a nomadic group called The Travellers at Stonehenge in 1985. “I think the way the song is sung and portrayed, people can get the true idea of what it’s about,” reasoned Friend. “I think people can relate to it over here really easily. Police brutality over here is huge.”
From an American standpoint (meaning yours truly), it was interesting to hear from Friend his impressions on touring the States as a first-timer. It’s one thing to be home playing festivals, but what about these one-night stands? “Well, Glastonbury was wild. I’ve never seen as many people in one place in my life. Then you come over here and our first American date in New Orleans was like 50!” Schlepping around the U.S. then as relative newcomers is no picnic, I presume. “It’s strange, but we’re used to it,” he said> “We’ve been on the road now about four years.” Egads! Don’t you want to take a break? “At the end of this tour, we are. We’re having three months off to rest, recuperate and write.” I couldn’t have asked for a better segue way to the topic of writing on the road. Does he do it?
“It’s actually quite hard. Personally, I write on my own. There’s got to be nobody else around so I can yell and wail completely to my heart’s content. I think Mark [Chadwick] is quite similar in some ways. We haven’t written much as a band – totally, all five of us. We tend to write individually. It’s easier to write starting on the acoustic guitar then take it to the band. Then it metamorphosizes from there.”
As we nattered on about tour hardships, I was surprised to learn that Friend’s bandmates having just arrived in Boulder, were already off to the hotel swimming pool for a bit of relaxation and jeez, y’know… he was talking to me on the phone instead. “I don’t mind,” he reassured, “but it does become hard to get space, ‘cause there is so much to do. Obviously, over here with the distances involved. We left straight away after the show [in Salt Lake City] yesterday and we only got here about two hours ago.” This is a crazy business to be in, wouldn’t you agree? “Well, we’re quite lucky. I think a lot of English bands come over here and have a really hard time with these sort of distances involved and the culture differences. I’ve lived on buses quite a lot in my life and come across lots of different cultures anyway – most of us [in the band] have. It’s easier for us than a lot of people to fit in. The distances don’t really bother us.”
Well, it seemed those crusty implications smack dab in the fair U.S. of A. just didn’t end, even after a long-distance clarification. Although there’s a certain allegiance to a number of far-away fans, I promised myself that I wouldn’t end my story confirming Friend’s beloved home tag. But with a paraphrasing nod to Elvis, how can 50,000 Levellers’ fans be wrong?
Great article! It's really interesting to hear Simon Friend talk about how the Levellers got famous and how they don't like being called 'Kings Of Crust.'