the kooks

The Kooks debut album, Inside In - Inside Out, spent more than half of 2006 in the UK Top 20. I got to sit down with Hugh Harris, the lead guitarist (and all of 19 years old) at the bar at the Hudson Hotel. It was two hours before their show at Bowery in late October.

From what I’ve read, you guys got together, started doing some demos which landed on a manager’s lap, and you got signed really quick.

It happened really quickly for us. Scarily so, in a way. We might have signed a bit too quickly. In the grand scheme of things, we’re really young people—and don’t get me wrong, we’re really hungry for what we’re doing—but we were lucky that the label respected that when they signed us. We have a really good relationship with them. We got along with the people there, and they gave us a year or two to go on tour and develop. We basically told them “we don’t want to make a record cause we’re not ready.”

And they were cool with that?

Totally. It’s amazing for a major label. We got really lucky.

How many songs did you have ready that they signed you?

Only like four.

Only four? They signed you with only four songs?

Pretty much.

That must have been a little overwhelming.

They came down our rehearsal studios in Brighton and we played them a few songs, did the whole courting thing, to see who we got on with, and these were the people that connected with our influences and music the most. As far as advertising, we didn’t really want it to be rammed down people’s throats, pushed on to people as being the next coolest thing. Through touring with bands like The Subways, we picked up quite a little fan base, fans that really liked the music and the gigs and the dancing, they weren’t disposable fans. We didn’t want that.

You have achieved a pretty quick rise up. How has it changed things for you guys, as you look toward the future?

It really hasn’t changed anything at all, actually. We’ve always tried to stick by the premise—like musically and the way we do things—it’s always been in an honest way. We’re four songwriters in a band, so we always have songs and that’s the most important thing. We’ve pretty much written our second album over twice now. We’re playing two new songs in the set. It keeps us interested and on it. I fucking hate watching a band that plays exactly their album. I get bored. What we tend to do is change things as we play live, and I think that’s a fun band is to see—when they’re interested in the music as well. We’re all from being into different types of music. I’m into soul and Motown because my parents were really into it. I then went into a cover band of the classics, a little Stevie Wonder, Al Green, like that. We used to play friend’s parties. Max is into dub and reggae, massive Marleyhead, like Peter Tosh. I think one thing that unites us is that all our influences are music that has stood the test of time.

Tell me about the Raisin Boys.

I can’t really tell you anything about that. I think it’s a joke that one of our friends did from back home. He just made that up. I have no fucking clue what that is. No way. It’s like Max’s joke about how I’m a big fan of Chris DeBergh in an interview, and every time in Japan they were asking me about Chris DeBergh and giving me CDs, and I was like, it was fucking joke.

Your name came from a Bowie song off of Hunky Dory.

Amazing album. We love Bowie. He’s incredible, a huge influence. I’m inspired by his guitar playing, it’s really roomy, soulful sound. His guitar playing is absolutely incredible.

When you were doing Inside In/Inside Out and taking the time to develop along the way, when did you know that the album was ready?

There was not really a moment. It’s kind of like your baby, it’s quite hard to let go of when you finish it. I still think there’s things I want to go back and do on that album. I think we’ve improved as musicians since then. The touring—the lifestyle change—completely flips you upside down.

What do you think of the lifestyle?

It’s varied man. It’s full of ups and downs. It’s fun man, it’s really, really fun. I think like with everything, its highs and lows have to be balanced out. I think the difference between the peaks and troughs in a job like this is quite far, is quite higher. One night you’ll playing to 2000 people and having this amazing night of your life, playing music that you love, and the next night you’re 2000 miles away from home in your hotel room thinking about your girlfriend, missing your family. All you want to do is sit at home and watch shitty British TV.

All four of you are pretty young, at least by my standards. You’ve already been quite successful. What advice would you give young bands that are coming along now?

I find that a really hard question to answer without sounding really fucking cheesy. Do things the way you want to do them and make sure you’re doing those things for the right reasons. Don’t get hyped up on things that you think you need that you don’t actually need. I went to performing arts school, so I was surrounded by a lot of people that obsessed with not just the creative side of music, but the other things that go with it, like fame and fortune. I think that for a lot of people these days, that can be so over-glamorized. It’s not easy. It’s hard fucking work. Unless you’re dedicated to the music, and it’s the first thing on your mind, you’re going to suffer.

What do your parents think?

My dad was like “whatever.” He’s in Australia—they’re separated—and I kept calling him at first and saying “Dad, we’re signed and things are going very well over here,” and he’s like, “Yeah, cool, cool.” I called him six months later and was like “Dad, we just made it on the radio,” and he’s like “Cool, whatever.” “Dad, we’re playing to 2000 people every night.” “Cool.” He thought it was bullshit. And then he heard me on the radio and he said, “Son, what the bloody hell is going on?”

I was like, “Fuckin’ told you.” He still hasn’t come to one of our shows yet in England.

Do you plan to tour in Australia?

Yeah, I’d fucking love to. They have a big festival they call the “Big Day Off” because you do one gig and then five days off and then one gig.

The press loves to pigeonhole bands. What do you guys think when someone categorizes you, or would you prefer someone categorizes you differently?

I understand people have to do that to talk about you. But I think it’s a bit lazy to be honest. It’s very easy to put someone in a box and say they’re part of a scene. We’ve been called indie, we’ve been called all sorts of things, like skuzzy Brit pop.

Skuzzy is a good word.

Skuzzy’s cool, yeah. I understand it but I don’t know how I’d define what we do myself. I guess pop.

Pop more than rock?

I think we’re a pop band. We listen to a lot of rock and roll. If you come to our show we’re more of a punk band, more of a rock and roll band. You can call us a pop band because I’m citing the actual abbreviation: popular music. I think that’s been lost. The meaning has changed big time. It’s very strange. Bands aren’t fitting into that honest pop group thing anymore because everyone is jumping on board. Bands are put together, outfits are put together, and then it turns into bubblegum pop and it’s not the same. We want to write popular songs. Why do you get into a band? You want to get your music out to as many people as possible. You want to influence people. That’s what you want to do.

What do you hope people get from your songs?

The easiest way to influence people is if you relate to them. Anything that can make them feel different about the way they are. If someone puts on a record and feels different, that’s what we want. It’s escapism. It’s not like we’re putting messages in our music and play the record backwards, “Kill the Queen.”

You play these every night. When you hear your songs on the radio or someone puts on your CD, what do you hear?

I hear my guitar. I think how shitty it’s being played.

Are you listening to it thinking there’s so much more we could have done?

Of course, but it’s not the main thought in my head. I find it really hard to be normal when my music is playing. Like when I go home, this guy from there, one of my mates from home, is always puts on my album at the pub. The whole fucking rack listing. I can’t sit down and listen to it. Not because I’m ashamed of it, or cause I don’t like it, but…I really don’t know why that is.

Do you guys find new music along the tour or listening to different things?

All the time. I have a few records I always carry around like The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. I’ve getting into Rodriguez. He’s fucking incredible. He’s from Mexico, and he’s had about three albums out. He did one album and it didn’t do very well, so he gave up and disappeared for a year or two. During those years in South Africa, his music became well-known and popular. And in Britain too. But he didn’t know this. He was found working on a construction site in Detroit. One of his fans found him and said, “You’ve got a lot of fans.” His label—who had lost touch with him too—was like you’ve got to make more records and tour.

Let’s talk about the future. A sophomore effort is always a difficult position for a band to be in. How do you plan on handling it if it’s not quite where this one is right now, or if it’s better?

I think it’ll be a lot better than the first. Because we’re better players now. For a lot of bands it’s hard to write a second record because all you have to look to is the past year you’ve had, and the blueprint for what you did for the first record. Today it’s so common for bands to make shit second records because they don’t take enough time and they rush. They sound uninspired.

You think The Kooks are different?

I think we’re different because we are constantly song-writing. I don’t understand when people say “Yeah, we’re taking two weeks out to go and song-write in a fucking shack in Barbados or somewhere.” What the fuck is that? If you’re a song-writer, you need to write to breathe. You’ve got to write to get things out of you. We’re always writing. For our second record, we’ve got so many fucking songs written, I don’t know how it can be bad. I know that sounds really fucking pretentious, but…

You’ve got to start learning you can have a little bit of an attitude. You’re a rock star.

Yeah?

I’ve always had a theory about sophomore albums. When a band’s first album comes out, they’ve been scratching and crawling and they finally get a deal and they’re singing about the creative process and the hard life. Then it comes out and they’re big and they’re on tour and the label is giving them hotels and drinks and girls and then they sit down to write their second and they’re not living the way they were when they did their first. They’re not living the hard life. They’re like, what the fuck am I going to write about, being rich? And the creativity goes away.

Yeah, look at Oasis. Their first album was about cigarettes and alcohol and booze and chicks and working class hero shit. And then it went downhill, because he’s got nothing to write about hard times.

Do you know when your second will come out?

I don’t know. We’re going to hopefully start recording it early next year.

When you recorded your first album, how did it go? Did you lay down tracks or did you do it all together?

We did it all in one room. We made fucking sure we could see each other and be in the same room. When you have four people in a room, it’s more than just a computer interpreting what you’re playing individually. You hear it on all the old records from the 70s and before. It’s just soulful. Even the mistakes sound good. It all bends around each other. It’s like having a conversation. It’s hand gestures and movements and facial expressions. We just have fun doing it.

Some critics of your album have pointed to the fact that the music is never pinned down from song to song and that some of the lyrics are young, immature. How do you respond?

I’d say they’re right. Yes, we’re fucking young and we’re allowed to be young and write music. I don’t write the lyrics, but I think they’re simple and poignant. But I think that’s why we’ve done so well in Britain. We’re able to relate in a simple way to people. There’s no clever trickery of words. It’s just straight-up emotion. We signed when I was 16. Luke was 19. So, yeah, they’re going to sound young. I’d be unhappy if they sounded anything but young at that age. It’s genuine. And as for the music side, I think it’s amazing how we’ve managed to fucking make the album without it falling apart. A lot of that was to do with our producer. We had four people stretching songs in different directions. I don’t think a lot of it is undefined. I think it flows quite nicely to me. I think there’s a load of different styles, but I think the flows is nice. We just played how we felt.

How did you name the album?

Luke came up with it.

What does it mean to you?

It sums up what we went through from being a small Brighton band to being signed to a major label. I think it defines a process of songs inside you and all of a sudden it’s out. And you feel vulnerable because people are free to make judgments about you in anyway they want. It’s going from inside to inside out. Your worlds are turned upside down, we’re turned inside out. Very spiritual. (Laughs.)

Anything else you want to mention? Not really. Apart from buy our record and come to our shows, nope. I don’t think we expect because we’ve done well in the U.K. that we’re going to do well in America. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think we won’t do well, but I think a lot of bands come over here and expect to do well because they did in England. We’re going to treat it with a bit more respect than that. We don’t want to over hype ourselves.