Toronto International Film Festival 2009

Interview: Andy Rourke

  • by: Chandler Levack
  • September 11, 2009  3:30 PM
  • Comments: (0)
Sure, the city is swarming with celebs right now, but for certain British-pop fans, no star in town is bigger than Andy Rourke. The former bassist for '80s indie legends The Smiths has assumed a new career: party DJ. I spoke to Rourke last night before his gig at the Drake Hotel's opening-night TIFF soiree about his new vocation, his recent move to Brooklyn and life in the shadow of one of the most influential pop bands of our time.

UPDATE:
Morrissey has issued a response to this interview.

How do you approach DJing? Do you play Top 40, Britpop…

Just stuff that I like. Just stuff that I’ve been influenced by and stuff that I like to listen to. But it also has to be danceable, obviously. You can’t play some crazy jazz music nobody’s ever heard of. It should be a little bit commercial — the stuff I like to listen to basically.

I want to ask you about your bass-playing, because I think the bass really makes the song. And I think that your bass-playing really transformed Smiths songs like “I Know It’s Over” or “Barbarism Begins at Home.”
It was a very natural kind of process myself and [Smiths guitarist] Johnny [Marr] went through. Basically The Smiths’ songs are instrumentals, and they’re written like that, and Morrissey just sings over the top. So we never knew what he was going to sing. And because myself and Johnny kind of grew up together — we went to school together, learned the guitar together — we kind of knew what was expected of each other. And Johnny never had to say, “I want you to do this, I want you to do that,” and vice versa. It was just a very kind of organic and natural thing. When I’ve played in other bands, I’ve not really had that connection, you know, with the guitarist like I did with Johnny. It was quite a special thing.

Yeah, you really complemented each other.
Yeah, I made him sound better than he actually was. No, I’m joking.

What do you think of him playing with bands like Modest Mouse and The Cribs now? Do you think he’s just bored?
No, not at all. I think it’s never been about money with Johnny. And if he likes something, he never does things halfheartedly. If he starts a project, he’ll put all his efforts into it. And that’s what’s he did with Modest Mouse and he’s now doing that with The Cribs. I think they did start recording an album in L.A. in September. And I can’t wait to hear it. I like their stuff.

Do you like [Marr’s band] The Healers?
Yeah. It was weird for me at first just because I didn’t really see Johnny as a singer, and it took me a while to get used to his voice and stuff.

It’s like breaking up with someone and then watching them get remarried.
Yeah, I can’t really talk about it.

But you had the closest relationship with him in the band?
Yeah, most definitely. We’re still friends now, which is good. It’s important.

Yeah. Well, I mean, I can’t imagine going on tour with an asexual vegetarian as your frontman.
It’s tough. It’s tough. But we all kind of saw [Morrissey] as this kind of delicate flower that we had to protect, and…

Really?
Yeah… we were very protective of him.

What do you mean?
We had a bit of a kind of gang mentality, and we all kind of stuck together. It’s not like he was going to get beaten up or anything, it was just… yeah, he was just a delicate flower.

I just finished [author Marc Spitz's Smiths-inspired novel] How Soon Is Never. Is that true?
No.

It features such a full-blown characterization of you.
I don’t know really how [Spitz] got away with it, because it was all fiction, but he was using real people’s names. And there’s a bit where I hit on his girlfriend or something, and there’s another bit where I think [Smiths drummer] Mike [Joyce] and his girlfriend — I think he’s just got this little weird fantasy. I haven’t read the whole book, I just read the bits where my name pops up. It’s bit surreal, really. I think the guy’s a bit deranged.

Yeah, in the book you get wasted with him at the library in New York…
Like I would.

And then you get so wasted that you try and make out with one of the journalists who’s interviewing you.
I think I only met [Spitz] once. He makes out like we have this long-standing friendship. Or not friendship, but… I just found the whole thing very bizarre. I know Mike was really pissed off, and Mike was thinking of suing the guy or whatever. It was sort of defamation of character, wasn’t it? He was just making stuff up about people. I’ve heard of people writing about reality and then changing the names, but to write fiction and then put real names in is a new one.

Yeah, it’s a weird thing to do. And I guess every member in the fictional Smiths that he’s referencing has their own reasons for wanting to reunite. Like, [in the book] Johnny Marr says that he just wants to hear their songs played in a tiny basement. And Mike wants a lot of money. And you said that you would just want the chance to talk to Morrissey and Johnny Marr again.
It’s fiction.



I guess people probably ask you about a Smiths reunion every day. But it’s never going to happen…
I honestly wouldn’t hold your breath, but… I always say never say never. People mellow over the years, but I don’t know. By the same token, people have moved. Johnny’s doing his thing, Morrissey’s doing his thing. And he’s got this kind of rampant hatred of Mike Joyce now that he makes very public, so yeah. I think too many bridges have been kind of burned. The Smiths were five years of my life which I wouldn’t take back, because whether I was being screwed [out of songwriting royalties] or not, I enjoyed it at the time. The Smiths broke up when I was 23, started up when I was 17. I had a blast. It was never really about the money, it was something I was willing to do. I probably took things to excess cause I’m a bit younger than everybody else…

That’s so hard, though.
Not when you’re 17, it’s not. I didn’t have a chaperone or anything, I was making it up as I went along.

Did you know how to be a rock star?
You hear about Keith Richards and Keith Moon and people, and I thought that was what you were supposed to do. I was a little bit crazy.

Is it true that Morrissey left a postcard notifying you of your dismissal from The Smiths on your dashboard?
That’s true, yeah. I thought it was a parking ticket, but it was a lot worse than that.

Is it strange to have your career defined by something that ended at age 23? Because you’ve played in other bands since.
Yeah, I’ve done lots of stuff. I did an album with The Pretenders, I played with Sinead O’Connor. I was even in Killing Joke for a week. And I’ve been in a few different bands with Mike.

And you played on Morrissey’s first album…
Yeah, on his solo stuff. Wrote a couple of songs with him. Yeah, so it’s a bit strange, but, you know, even DJing is just something that I enjoy. Because I was such a young age and on the road and I get a bit kind of stir crazy after a few weeks and I can’t really stay at home longer than like two weeks, three weeks at a time. I have to get out. DJing gives me a reason to do that. And I enjoy it as well. And honestly, when people say “Andy Rourke, DJ,” that’s not really what I’m about. I’m still a bass player. DJing just gets me out of the house.

Do you think people just come see you for the curiosity factor?
I’m not under any illusions that people are coming because they think I’m a fantastic DJ. I think a lot of the times it’s quite young fans who probably didn’t get to see us play live or didn’t even know we existed until we broke up. And lots of people kind of bring their album collections along and just get me to sign it. And more often than not Johnny’s signature will be on there. You see people, they have this sweet notion that they’ll get all our signatures on their album covers someday, but I don’t think Morrissey signs Smiths stuff anymore. But that urges people not to buy it, which is a bit strange. It’s like shooting yourself in the foot.

It’s interesting how the different members of The Smiths, where they’ve gone with their careers. Because I think that band was something really special — it can’t reproduced.
It’s a tough thing to beat. I was very kind of disillusioned after The Smiths broke up. It really kind of upset me cause I was really passionate about it. So I didn’t do anything for a couple of years. I mean, I just got pretty lazy. I got into watching daytime TV. I’m sure I could of done a whole lot more. But that’s one of my reasons for moving to New York. I was getting very frustrated in Manchester, ’cause not being able to play. I just wanted to play with some different people.

When did you move to New York?
About five months ago.

So I guess the change of scene has been good?
Yeah, it’s just… I’m just trying to work with as many different people as I can. Doing some writing as well. But the guy who lives below me actually has been a friend of mine for about four years. He does production and a bit kind of techno. It’s all like keyboards and drum machines and stuff, then I kind of get overtop of that with some real bass on there and guitars and stuff like that. And it works really well. We’ve written about four or five songs, and we’re going to do something with that. We’ll just take it as it comes really.

What was the Manchester music scene like when you were 17?
Now everybody’s in a band. In Manchester there’s hundreds if not thousands of bands. When I was growing up it was Joy Division, it was The Fall, it was the Buzzcocks. There was the Smiths. Oh, and A Certain Ratio. That’s about it really. Bands actually didn’t have a day job. They were taking it seriously. The only way you can succeed really as a band is to make a choice whether you’re going to do it full-time or not. So it’s tough. And not everybody gets to make it, but… I mean, we were very lucky. It happened very quick. We were very cocky. I think initially people freaked out over Morrissey because he was so kind of different from everything else that was going around in Manchester. Probably the only band that could sort of compare to what Morrissey was doing was Magazine.

Were you ever frustrated that you couldn’t contribute to the band as much as you wanted to? You and Johnny wrote the music, but then it kind of got overshadowed by this very dramatic lyricism.
It’s hard to say. It all kind of happened very natural. I remember initially when I heard what Morrissey was going to do over the top, I’d get frustrated because I’d want to change the lines. But then it wouldn’t have been The Smiths. You have to roll with the punches. I think that’s what makes The Smiths sound different from other bands.

What are your feelings about it now, like how you feel towards what happened and the lawsuit? Have you kind of moved past it?
Well, the lawsuit, that was nothing to do with me, that was Mike. I was subpoenaed to give evidence in the court case, and I just said I had no idea what went down. Yeah, it was a horrible experience, all four of us in the courtroom, one by one going [onto the stand] with the other three staring up. It’s a bit surreal.

Really? They left you waiting while other people go in, and you make small-talk outside?
It was like a waiting room, yeah, and we were making nervous chat amongst each other. And then you walk in the courtroom and everyone stares. It was horrible. Horrible. You know, life’s too short to be bitter and recycle negative energy and all that. You’ll just give yourself an ulcer. Fuck it. Going to get that tattoed on my arm: “Fuck it.”

Do you feel like you’re sort of giving yourself a fresh start now?
Yeah, hopefully. I love Manchester, but I just — it wasn’t really doing it for me anymore and I just thought, you know, it’s a big world out there. And I was thinking of all the places I traveled to, and where would I like to go. And I got a lot of friends here — or in New York. No, all over the place, actually. Yeah, it was a big step. All my family were a bit surprised. They thought I was just going to go for a few weeks. Even when I speak to my dad now, he’s like, “Oh, when are you coming back?” I’m like, “I’m not.” I got a three and half year visa.

So what are your three big songs that you always play when you DJ?
Depends on what mood I’m in, really. I really like New Young Pony Club. “Mystery Train” by Elvis Presley. “Whip It” by Devo.

I heard that you take Smiths songs on request.
Occasionally, yeah. Some people get a little overzealous. You play one and 10 minutes later they want another one.

It’s like doing drugs.
Yeah: another hit!



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