THE DEFINITE ARTICLE

MAX BELL - THE FACE – 1984

Have you heard of Matt Johnson? He has a peculiar effect on even the most peculiar of people. Take Stevo for instance, the cuddly demogogue who lends his considerable form to the Some Bizzare roster of misfits. ‘I remember being on a plane going to New York in 1981,’ Stevo recalls croakily. ‘I put on Matt’s ‘Burning Blue Soul’ album and I ‘ad a mystical experience. All these voices in me head saying ‘Sign Matt Johnson, sign Matt Johnson.’ So I did.’

Then there are people who have followed Matt’s career as The The, his enigmatic non-de-plume and fictional group set up, the ones that write him letters saying ‘you’ve changed my life’. People with severe emotional handicaps confide in this man they know through his records alone. There’s one girl who writes constantly, never about the music but always looking for help. ‘We get worried about her’, says Fiona, Matt’s girlfriend, ‘She seems…I don’t know…suicidal. You feel a responsibility to those people.’

But when Matt bounds into the 15th floor flat in St. Luke’s, East London, he doesn’t look like a father confessor. Dressed in jeans and black winkle-pickers he doesn’t even look much like a musician. His conversation is larded with the fruity vernacular of the East End, a grammar picked up from the snug bars run by his parents in Laughton, Ongar and Stratford. ‘Do you know the Two Puddings in Stratford? They run that one. And The Crown in Loughton.’ In all the best cases of course appearances are deceptive….

Johnson just happens to have made a record called ‘Soul Mining’ which to those who have heard it seems to be about the most interesting artefact to have sneaked out of the vinyl underground in an age. A deeply involved and personal work, ‘Soul Mining’ mines an emotional landscape that makes Lou Reed’s marriage guidance counselling on ‘Berlin’ sound like a situation comedy. Through ‘Soul Mining’ Johnson has unburdened himself with a vengeance. Songs such as ‘Twilight Hour’ and ‘I’ve Been Waiting For Tomorrow (All Of My Life)’ are just so intense, so close to the bone, they can make you blush.

‘Yeah, I do have a reputation for being a depressing bastard,’ he laughs. ‘People like to hear someone who sounds in a worse state than they are. I’m an expert on depression. Its my purpose in life to be a cushion. I’ve had the strangest reactions. Some mates of mine got raided by the law and they had ‘Soul Mining’ at the front of the record stack, One of the coppers saw it and said ‘Oh, so you like that Matt Johnson then?’

Despite an almost embarrassing sufeit of critical recognition the man hasn’t set any records at the Virgin Megastore check-out counter. ‘It annoys me that I haven’t got across to a bigger audience because I am ambitious. I ought to put myself about a bit more but I’ve had this viral infection for a lot of the year which affected my eyesight. I could hardly see and I had constant headaches. Been in hospital for a while. It cleared up. Touch wood.’

One reason why Johnson remains something of a well kept secret is his refusal to play the structured rock business game. He’s made three albums, including the unreleased ‘Pornography Of Despair’ for CBS, but he’s only ever played a clutch of live dates.

‘It’s a question of confidence. I feel happy making records because I get a positive reaction but I don’t see that it follows I have to be a good performer. Concerts usually bore me stupid. The rock biz attitude is so naff. The The did play a few Marquee dates in March, sort of a supergroup effort with me and Thomas Leer, Zeke from Orange Juice and Marc Almond. They were chaos. I veer between being incredibly timid and a psychopath.

‘On the second night there was a riot in the audience but instead of walking off I started laying into the troublemakers. One guy spat at me so I leapt off stage and started beating the shit out of him. I had to be pulled off. These people in the audience who think they’re tough don’t realise that when you perform you get so much adrenalin pumping that you go mad; the strength of ten men thing. Not that I’m proud of that. I have to find a balance between power and projection. It’s complex. Trouble with a band is you end up carrying too much dead wood. When The The started certain people had to fall by the wayside because they didn’t progress fast enough and I ended up playing everything. I felt sorry for them.’

Although Johnson is still in his early twenties, The The has been extant since 1979. Johnson’s career began as the 12 year old vocalist for a school garage band called Road Star. ‘I used to sing ‘Alright Now’ in this ridiculous unbroken voice. I’ve still got all the tapes, hundreds of them, really excruciating. I’m not a conventional singer anyway.’

Indeed, Johnson’s idiosyncratic vocal style has led to some unflattering comparisons with Ian Anderson of all people. ‘He’s my hero of course. I always wanted to wear stripy tights and stand on one leg. No, I don’t mind the Lou Reed comparison though….Janice Long played a Heaven 17 song on her show and said ‘Mmm I like Glenn Gregory, he’s got a real Matt Johnsony voice’. I thought, at last I’ve been recognised. You wait, in five years time people will be ripping me off.’

Beneath this bluff exterior lurks a poetic sensibility. Matt is proud of his lyrics and includes them in hand written stanzas with the records. One theme that runs through the Johnson oeuvre is of a Thomas Chatterton type who lies about in bed all day groaning before reaching the glorious conclusion that he’s just a symptom of the moral decay that’s gnawing at the heart of the country – a maxim which sums up the aimless lives we all lead from time to time.

After he left school at 15 Johnson worked as a tea boy in a recording studio and enjoyed a brief stint as an insurance officer – ‘the bleeders wanted to make me wear a suit!’ Then the rot set in…’I was on the dole for three years. Me and me brother used to lie in bed till three then get up and watch Afternoon Plus and a few videos. We were total bastards; used to ring down to the cooks in me parents’ pub kitchen and tell ‘em to send up a couple of meals. Eventually I woke up and realised that the dole was like an Arts Council grant, it was subsidising my music which was my raison d’etre

I was well off, I had no reason to sit around and feel sorry for myself. I know that a lot of people are genuinely pissed off and confused. I’d get up and read the defence page, see what new missiles they’d invented and I’d slump into despair again. Now I’ve grown up. People aren’t sheep but they need inspiring.’

‘When I did that Loose Talk programme with the subject Say No To Cruise I took it seriously, I admire the Greenham Women and I feel guilty that I don’t go on peace rallies and stuff. Stevo says understand the problems of the world but don’t let them rule your life. We can’t unlearn nuclear power. I know there will be a lot of civil unrest too and it occurred to me recently that one day there’ll be nuclear terrorists holding cities to ransom.’

Johnson cracks a bottle of Pils and points to the silent TV screen. Margaret Thatcher is mouthing off to the natives of New Delhi, ‘I’m surprised someone hasn’t killed her yet. Don’t you think this is a transitory civilisation? Its winding itself down. It’s all going wrong. Oddly enough I still find it a creative period. People are at their most receptive when things are going bad.’

Johnson’s own solution to the current malaise is be optimistic and work hard. A self taught musician who can wring a decent sound out of an electric kettle, he has just spent five grand on a synthesiser that can be programmed to imitate anything from a blackbird to the London Philharmonic.

‘I’m moving to a place of my own in Stoke Newington soon and I’m going to get a home gym and computer so I can improve my body and mind. I like weight training and running and I ‘m determined to absorb as much information as possible. In ten years if you can’t use a computer you’ll be considered illiterate. I read about a kid the other day who’d broken into the American Defence system and was capable of cracking the code and start a war. Imagine that!’

Matt Johnson’s motto is: conform to reform. ‘All that Top Of The Pops’ music is just scratching at the surface; rock and roll rebellion is pathetic. It’s Neanderthal. ‘To this end, he has formed The The (‘the ultimate band name’) as a limited company.

‘I enjoy dealing with solicitors and accountants. If you can’t handle the business you get trampled. You end up on programmes like The Unforgettables without two halfpennies to rub together. I’ve looked after my money.’

When I left Johnson he was musing on The The in 1984 in a projected world tour, a parody affair with a band in black playing black Fenders. He is also looking forward to Christmas in the parental pub. ‘I’ve nicked quite a few lyrical ideas from Christmas cracker mottoes. I used one on ‘Burning Blue Soul’ which went: I used to be indecisive, but now I’m not so sure’.

I expect you feel like that yourself sometimes, don’t you? Matt Johnson has the most peculiar effect on people.