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Friday March 3, 2006
The Guardian
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Divine ... Hollis, Jackson, Screech, Chaplin and Cox (left to right)
Photograph: Linda Nylind
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She has been voted the 39th coolest person in the rockular world, was deemed by NME readers to be one of the sexiest women in pop and has slipped, along with her four bandmates, between the glossy sheets of Vogue. But there is one thing seriously cramping Kate Jackson's style. A big thing - in the shape of the chunky people carrier that constitutes the Long Blondes tour bus. As the band's nominated - and indeed, only - driver, it is lead singer Jackson who has to stay awake and sober after London gigs for the 170-mile schlep back to Sheffield while her compadres are snoozing in the back; who has to walk miles from unsalubrious multi-storey car parks to the venue and who, on one occasion from which she is still smarting, had to cough up the clamping fine. Not only that, but to have the necessary clutch control she is forced to switch what Heat magazine would describe as her "trademark" 4in patent leather stilettos for a pair of rather pedestrian Ugg-like boots. Something must be done.
"I am making a national appeal," Jackson says, bus safely tucked away in a restriction-free zone in London, far, far away from where the band are playing tonight. "If anyone would like to drive for the Long Blondes, apply forthwith."
Of course, having to lug one's own gear from one end of the country to the other is one of the necessary, if tiresome, evils of being an unsigned band. But somehow the Long Blondes deserve more. For what seems like for ever, the music press has been putting out pretty much weekly appeals to SIGN THIS BAND IMMEDIATELY, and for aeons the rumour mill has been in overdrive that the five-piece were on the cusp of clinching a megawatt deal with this label/that label/no, the other label.
You can pooh-pooh the music press all you like, but catch the Long Blondes live on a good day and it's hard not to be floored: not just by their Blondie-tinged, super-danceable arch-pop, but also by how divine they look. Posing among the Mills & Boons in Bethnal Green library in east London for their Guardian photoshoot they appear to have stepped straight out of, variously, Grease, Happy Days and film noir classic Double Indemnity - neckerchiefs and pencil skirts for the girls (Jackson, 26; bassist Reenie Hollis, 24; and guitarist Emma Chaplin, 26), pastel cardies and tight slacks for the boys (drummer Screech, 23; and foppish guitarist Dorian Cox, 24). And if you're puzzled as to where their name came from when they are all brunettes, the Long Blondes, they say, are "the ultimate fantasy pop group: Jean Harlow, Mae West, Edie Sedgwick, Nico, Nancy Sinatra and Barbara Windsor". One of the librarians sees them and whispers: "Oooh, are they famous? We'll look out for them on TV."
As you read this, it looks as though, after all the false starts, a deal is finally about to be signed to one of the UK's leading independent labels. Which is good, because the Long Blondes appear to be tiring slightly of their status as Britain's best unsigned band. "I thought you'd be signed by now" is perhaps not the kindest opening observation, but the deadpan mood of the answer says it all. "So did we," sighs Hollis.
So how close have they come? "Tantalisingly so," says Cox, a York-born dandy, who lives and co-writes the lyrics with Jackson, but actually dates Chaplin. The wait, they say, is all down to them. "We didn't want to jump headfirst into something we weren't absolutely sure of," says Cox. "We've had a lot of offers but we've not yet found the perfect label. We have to make sure we make the right decision," adds Jackson. Artistic freedom is high on their wish list - "along with cold, hard cash, of course", says Screech, who has coupled up with Hollis and is named after the geek from US teen TV classic Saved by the Bell.
Since forming in February 2003 after moving to Sheffield, they have released five singles on three tiny labels (Angular, Thee Sheffield Phonographic Corporation, and Good and Evil) and have accomplished more without the cushion of a big label than many signed bands manage in their whole careers. They have already played New York and Sweden, supported Franz Ferdinand at a sold-out Alexandra Palace and held down full-time day jobs all the while. Their best single to date, the dizzyingly brilliant Giddy Stratospheres (a catty warning shot from an ex-girlfriend to her former lover that his new partner will never make the grade) has been a favourite at electro clubs around the country for well over a year, was allegedly bought by Kate Moss and Gwyneth Paltrow, and is, along with the White Stripes' Seven Nation Army, one of the few songs that can fill a dancefloor with its opening riff.
It really shouldn't be a surprise in this day and age to see three sassy, glamorous women on their way to greatness in the music industry, but disappointingly it is. Ten years since Cerys Matthews fronted Catatonia in a nice dress, and Louise Wener and Justine Frischmann were regularly bothering the charts, Abi from the Zutons and Sarah from Belle and Sebastian are two of the very few British women you can see on TOTP in an indie band. The gig circuit is crowded with countless bands with women in them - Duke Spirit, Sons and Daughters and Tilly and the Wall to name but a few - but somehow these groups never seem to make the leap up.
The Long Blondes have got what it takes to make that jump, says Rough Trade's Olly Parker, one of the many A&R men who has been chasing the band. "You can intellectualise it all you like, but they simply have great songs. The choruses are so catchy, they're brilliant live and they have a great front woman," he says. "They don't sound or look like anything that has cracked the mainstream recently, which is why some record companies have been unwilling to take a risk on them. The way it will work is that they wait for someone to take the lead and then they'll all be scrabbling to sign soundalikes."
"The thing is, we meet loads of bands at our level with women in them," says Chaplin, "but they never seem to make it further." When asked what they have learned about the music industry so far, Hollis says their overwhelming impression is that "it's a bit of a boys' club". "It's not a problem we could solve around this table now," says Hollis. "It's not just the labels, it's the magazines, the media and the public too." So how do the three women feel about being seen as fashion icons, or even sex symbols? Fine, it would seem. "I used to have posters of Justine Frischmann on my walls," says Jackson. And do the boys feel left out now that their female bandmates are getting all the attention? "Not at all," says Cox. "We like shopping for shoes just as much as the girls do."
In fact, it was clothes that brought the band together. "We used to see each other around town, and we obviously looked the coolest people in Sheffield, so we obviously had to form a band," says Jackson. Sheffield, while charming, is not known for its sartorial innovation, and the Long Blondes' artistic direction was considered rather too leftfield for the hilly city. They formed a close-knit gang and have been inseparable ever since, claiming kinship with Pulp - "another bunch of misfits who came together and made great music," says Cox - and hope to replicate their success. "Just slightly quicker," adds Screech. But what they want more than anything now is to sign a deal they're happy with and escape the monotony of their day jobs. While the crushing boredom of 9-to-5ing has provided ample fodder for Cox and Jackson's kitchen-sink tales up to now, the band are fed up turning down gigs because they have to clock in early the following morning. "We've got what it takes to be a classic British pop band and we're ready to try," says Cox. They've just got to find someone to drive the tour bus first.
