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BY KRISTY OJALA |
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KNRK's Feed It: Zebrahead, Dishwalla, Sonichrome, The Candyskins LaLuna 215 SE 9th Ave., 241-5862 8 pm Thursday, Nov. 19 Bring 3 or more cans of food. On the Road Again: The Candyskins are happy to be back, back in the United States.For every Blur, Radiohead and Oasis, there are a hundred Brit-pop bands whose albums are worth less to most American listeners than their airmail postage rate. Many of these groups, like the Candyskins, released a series of strong, catchy singles that could have been stateside hits but weren't. Oddly, Candyskins singer-guitarist Nick Cope isn't bitter in the least. Speaking on a cell phone from a truck stop somewhere in Virginia, the cheerful vocalist is the antithesis of what one expects a British rocker to be. Goaded to comment on our interstates, talk shows and musical preferences, he instead devotes the majority of the interview to dissecting the ills of England, not America. He even describes his band's previous bad fortune in the States as "a thankful occurrence, really." His optimism is understandable. After nearly a decade of struggling to break out on these shores, the Candyskins have been given an almost unprecedented second chance. Back in the early '90s, DGC, the "alternative" branch of Geffen, snapped up the fiercely energetic quintet during the signing frenzy instigated by Nirvana's success. The 'Skins were part of a roster that included the unlikely combination of Beck, Guns N' Roses and XTC, and after two excellent but unnoticed albums (1991's Space I'm In and 1993's Fun?), it was apparent that no one at DGC knew what to do with the band's material. After their contract was severed, Cope and his band signed with Ultimate, a small independent label in the U.K. Rather than exhaust their resources trying to make a splash in America, they undertook the formidable task of constructing a fan base in their competitive hometown of Oxford, the spawning ground of Supergrass and, yep, Radiohead. Though they'd had minor hits in England, the Candyskins found that pleasing their native crowds was a slow process. Riff-heavy bands were still being signed on all sides, and as a pop band influenced more by Elvis Costello than My Bloody Valentine, it was a challenge to be noticed. "I think [the glut of Brit-pop imitators] was mostly because of Oasis and Blur," Cope offers. "Labels were signing so many guitar bands that by the time they were all signed, the movement was over. Record companies need a bit of foresight to realize they've signed a lot of bands that sound the same. Nobody wants a second-rate British version of Green Day." The Candyskins persevered by playing upward of 200 live shows a year for three years, building a strong following with their consistent melodies. Their sound, once heavily psychedelic and lilting, transformed into a piercing, distinct blend of Cope's accessible social commentary and the band's cleverly rhythmic structures. "Looking back, there was definitely a '60s, Beatles-type thread in our music," says Cope. "We were really trying to emulate that. Now everybody's trying to sound like the Stone Roses, which I find bizarre. You've got a guitar, and there's only so much you can do with it, but trying something different is really refreshing." The 'Skins were in the midst of grueling 14-hour days spent self-producing their newest and brightest album, Death of a Minor TV Celebrity, when they decided to ink a deal with the U.S. label Velvel. This stateside tour coincides with the release of "Feed It," a jaunty, provoking single making loose reference to the Heaven's Gate cult suicide. Cope's love for tabloid news constantly turns up in his songwriting, but the tone is always sympathetic, not guffawing; his heart belongs to the people who need to read their morning horoscopes in order to have a reason to get out of bed. The LP's 11 artsy tracks sparkle and swim around each other like a frisky school of fish, all tied together by remarkable choruses about anyone who was never someone. "Our songs are good for people who are moping and a bit down on themselves," Cope says as an 18-wheeler blazes by. "The subject matter is downbeat, but the music and melodies are opposite of that. We're a bit gloomy, I suppose. At the end of the day, it makes our songs sound better." The ultra-polite singer is excited to be touring the States again, this time on better terms. He even seems enthralled by the collection of semi trucks outside his mini-tour bus, and he's itching to rent some John Wayne flicks for the road. Though he isn't much of a gambler, he's dying to see Las Vegas--not for its kitschiness, but because he's truly enamored of its existence. Stranger still, he's getting on wonderfully with his brother and bandmate, guitarist Mark Cope. No Gallagheresque brawling for these two. "I suppose it'd be more exciting press if we did fight," he admits. "But instead, he's sitting quietly on the bus, reading a book, just like he should be."
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