ROME, SODOMY AND THE CLASH
Dele Fedele- NME– 1993

For the past 14 years, The The’s MATT JOHNSON  has been on an angst-ridden, sometimes self-loathing path of discovery, culminating in this year’s ‘Dusk’ LP the best observed album about London since The Clash’s debut.  DELE FEDELE joins Johnson’s promotional slog in Rome to detail the man’s knowledge of lust, repression and Britain’s Victorian hangover. 

The heaving breasts, high pitched coquettish cackles and ruby-red lipstick only partially disguise the fact that these are men poured into hour-glass shaped dresses. The people hardest hit when the Italian economic miracle took a plunge, the sad souls that less charitable and more pious assholes would call the lowlife, the supposed dregs of society, are standing by trees on the outskirts of Rome, parading their wares and trying to sell their bodies for thousands of lira.

We’re here for a photo-opportunity, of course, just drinking in the sights, tourists with too many privileges to realise what’s really going on. As we take a holiday in other people’s misery. Matt Johnson, Kevin Cummins, myself and the loquacious Roman driver see a terrible sight just metres away from another garishly overdressed hunk.  On a tree, tattooed in giant white letters for all to see, is the legend ‘AIDS’.  Is this an insult or a warning?  We don’t wait to find out.

The driver wants to chaperone us to a brothel where the main so-called attractions are women fresh from the Yugoslavian war-zone. You can go too far sometimes, we think, as the bile rises in our throats. Let’s head back to the centre of town.

Frankfurt, Copenhagen, Amsterdam, Los Angeles, Chicago, New York City and London are some of the cities in  whose luxurious hotels Matt Johnson has roosted before today.  Tomorrow he’s off to Lisbon, then Stockholm, Oslo and back to New York City.  And why?  Because he’s currently engaged in worldwide promotional duties for his group, The The and his first album since 1989 – the wistful, navel-gazing, psychologically strung-out and rather essential ‘Dusk’.

Look at this balding, wised-up youngish man sipping beer in Via Sistina. By turns serious and light-hearted, this former drug-participant is now addicted to football – a Manchester United supporter who can tell you more about the history of Arsenal than Frank McLintock – and to taking the piss at every opportunity. Look at him again; Is he really the ego-driven  bugbear of legend, prone to lecturing and hectoring on subjects you already know about? Is this really Mr State-The-Bleeding-Obvious-And-Fill-The-Coffers? Is he the former Olympian creator of thoughtful and extremely introspective pop songs who came a serious cropper with the puffed-up and pompous ‘Mind Bomb’ LP?

Not really.  If Matt Johnson is the most humourless, miserable and musically obnoxious git who ever collaborated with Jim ‘Foetus’ Thirlwell, Sinead O’Connor, Neneh Cherry, Zeke Manyika, Johnny Marr, Anna Domino and Jools Holland, then he wouldn’t be able to make an LP as life-affirming, rigorous and emotionally affecting as ‘Dusk’…and your friendly hack’s name would be Benito Mussolini.

‘Dusk’ is the best and most evocative LP about London since ‘The Clash’s debut offering, written from the perspective of a person walking the streets alone late at night. But why does this East End born and bred Londoner, who has just managed to encapsulate the capital city and put a name to its myriad tears and fears, insist on moving around and keeping a home in Spain?  Why does he consider himself a Latin person trapped in a British body?

‘It’s weird being British, ‘cos you often feel you emotions can’t be expressed,’ he says, insisting he isn’t speaking in clichés.  ‘You get very affected by an emotionally repressive, society. If people sit on trains, they feel uncomfortable  if they are touched by anyone else. That’s what I like about Latin people and warmer countries – generally there seems to be more expression.  The spirit  seems to express itself more freely. British people just take the piss out of everybody else and themselves to the point of hatred – it’s part of the culture.’

And the dreaded question is:  Where have you been Matt J?

‘I lead a very private life apart from when I put a record out.  I like to keep a very low profile.  I’ve got lots of friends in various cities around the world.  So I’ve been travelling and spending time with my girlfriend.  It took me a lot of travelling and getting to the age of 31 for me to realise that I don’t feel comfortable in my own Country.  I feel more at home in New York than I do in London.  I’m just a different person there.  I learn more when I’m away.’

If someone has learned to keep his cards close to this chest, this is he.  After 14 years of The The, Matt only respects true individuals of the calibre of Tom Waits, Leonard Cohen, Bob Marley and Robert Johnson, rather than what he sees as the ephemeral nature of movements or groups feted for what city they come from.  He’s also resigned to falling in and out of fashion, but never uses this as a yardstick.

The reason for taking a decidedly maverick path comes down to his penchant of using himself as his subject matter.  Whenever this method has worked and he’s not ended up wallowing in despair, the listener gains warmth and solace as was the case, most notably, with  1983’s ‘Soul Mining’.

 ‘I love my parents.  I respect them because they taught me to respect people.  I didn’t even realise what racism was until I was older;  I was shocked to discover what is was.’

The most dizzying current track, ‘Helpline Operator’, finds Matt’s character poking fun at this process and reaching out to people at the same time – the Samaritan who mans the phones and helps you find some love and caring and avoid suicide actually has mounting problems of his own.  What’s brought about this return to the self, this 180 degree mirror-image of ‘Soul Mining’ that’s come to pass in 1993?

‘During the promotion of ‘Mind Bomb’, it got to the stage where I found myself in hotel suites in Paris doing interviews with Arab journalists and their interpreters, sitting around discussing the virtues of Islam.  And I just thought to myself ‘This is absurd!’ I’m a songwriter and I’ve got myself into a situation I don’t know that much about.  I’ve read bit and pieces. I keep up with current affairs, but at the end of the day I know about as much as the regular guy on the street.  All of a sudden you realise that maybe you’re skating on thin ice – to understand Islam you’d need a lifetime of study, and then maybe you’d only be scratching the surface.

‘The point of view I was writing from was valid, but I eventually realised the thing I knew the most about was my own feelings.  A lot of unpleasant things happened in my life after ‘Mind Bomb’.  I lost a couple of people very close to me and that affected me.  It rearranged my priorities and I suddenly realised what was very important in my life. It wasn’t ranting and raving. Also, I didn’t intend to patronise people, but I realised that that’s often how you’re perceived.  It really gets on my nerves if alternative comedians or musicians are telling me how to vote of what to think.

‘A lot of things happened to change my priorities. And ‘Dusk’ is an LP I just had to make. I needed to exorcise a lot of ghosts within me.  It was the hardest record I’ve ever made. I had to dredge really deep down into my soul and spirit to get things out.  It’s like going down into a cave, coming face to face with your own devils, nicking a few words off them, running up the stairs and slamming the door.  To be quite honest,  I hope I never have to make a record like this again.’

Nightlife in Rome during the week operates on a different scale to any other major European city.  Tourists like us walk around the colonnades and intricately paved streets and gape wide-mouthed at the sights in this ancient city, a cradle of civilisation.  All the statues Factory Records used to decorate their sleeves with are here on a major scale. We throw coins in the Trevi Fountain and make wishes, me for an end to racism world-wide, and Kevin Cummins for Aston Villa to win the league. Matt Johnson keeps schtum.

The scenery, although concrete is enough to take you breath away, and the people, in their warmth and openness, remind you how close you are to Africa.  There are stray bits of fascism graffiti, but you realise you’re in the centre of the Roman Catholic world and people take their religion decidedly seriously here.

The sole nightclub we visit seems stuck somewhere in the early ‘80’s  musically, but full of subculture enjoying themselves.  These are the stragglers who don’t fit into the normal daily grind of cooking large meals with the extended family and going on  leisurely strolls around  the city, stopping only for a quick espresso in one of the specially designed stand-up bars.

Only a few of the monster/dinosaur rock groups ever deign to play Rome and even fewer underground so-called indie-groups bother, but there is a vague thirst for them, something to break the traditional monopoly of theatre and opera.  Matt Johnson is the near-perfect host on our kerb-crawl tonight, offering insights and quite amusing tales about his years in the biz when he’s not being put through his paces by Kevin Cummins with an aversion for tourist spots.  In his more serious moments, he thinks Margaret Thatcher will get her wish that ‘there’s no such thing as society’ if the Conservative Party continue their campaign to dismantle the National Heath Service.

‘People shouldn’t copy other people,’ he opines, ‘people should be encouraged to be themselves.  From School and from a very early age, there’s so much pressure to fall into groups and to copy people – it’s almost a fear of standing  on your own two feet and being proud of who you are as an individual, not as part of a group or a movement.’

Does he consider himself a working class person in the general sense, or is he middle class  (rigorous examination of self is usually considered middle class - i.e. be miserable if you can afford to be)?

‘I would say I’m upper working class. My parents came from East London and they and all of my aunts and uncles are publicans. In the ‘60’s my parents earned a very good living, but it’s very tough now.  The breweries have ripped all the publicans off, put the rents up.  I’ve had a very fortunate life.  I was lucky in many respects – we got to go abroad when we were younger, which probably gave me the taste for it.  My whole code of morals and ethics is very much working class, and I’ve got a close family: it’s very much blood is thicker than water.  My parents might have been from a poor background but they were very progressive:  they brought me up to believe that everybody is equal and to be polite to people

‘They’re great parents.  I love my parents.  I respect them because they taught me to respect people. I didn’t even realise what racism was until I was older.  I was shocked to discover what is was.’

Can Matt Johnson leave himself open too much and be read all too easily?  Not really.  He doesn’t exactly reveal everything that makes him tick, and only gorehounds would want to know anyway.  He only gets razzled when asked why he revels in melancholia.

‘People say, ‘Well, why is your stuff so melancholic? But how can anybody be happy in a world where there’s so much sadness and suffering about?

‘I’m gonna make that point because every time you turn on the television there’s sadness and suffering in Bosnia.  In Somalia….I’m fortunate.  I have a pretty happy and fulfilled life, contrary to popular belief.

‘There’s an image of me from when I was 20, 21, which has stuck forever – that I’m a completely depressed person – and there’s nothing I can do to shake it off.  So it’s very far removed from the truth, but how can anyone be completely happy?

‘Am I bonkers?’ No, it’s just the rest of the world.  I think there’s a line between sanity and insanity, and most of us wander backwards and forwards over it.  There’s an unfortunate few that don’t come back.’

He bursts into devilish laughter.  The man who once memorably howled ‘How can anybody know me when I don’t even know myself?’  Is erudite on the subject of trying not be a television addict, admits he’s very ambitious and has something to say about rock groups who refuse to acknowledge black music as the source of their meandering….

‘Even Aerosmith took music from the blues guys.   The Rolling Stones were like human samplers – they basically mimicked the blues singers.  I don’t think you can get away from it, and I certainly feel that influence although I‘m also influenced by the more European Avant Guarde .  I’m basically a mongrel, really, in that my heritage is fifth generation…I’ve got  Portuguese, Jewish, German, Irish all mixed up and as a person I’m very much in the melting pot. I’m anti Nation Of Islam philosophies of separate states and segregation.  I’m for everything mixing.  Maybe I’m too idealistic, but I think it’s more interesting that way.’

As far as Matt Johnson sees it, Rome has no red-light district, but lots of prostitutes, because of Catholicism.  You can’t scoff at this observation due to his intricate knowledge of lust, repression and the Victorian hangover Britain is still suffering from.  Asked about future plans for The The, he claims not to know what direction he’ll take other than following his feelings at the time.  Yet he’s got collaborators mapped out for the next four or five LPs, one of which will be composed solely of hymns, after the next immediate step of jetting off to New Orleans to record an EP of Robert Johnson covers.  Johnny Marr may or may not be helping out in these projects, depending on their nature (they’d been friends for years  before The Smiths) but you could probably expect some great observations, some experiments and a few songs to hum in the bath.

Whatever your thoughts on Matt Johnson, he’s always loyal to his friends and helpers.  An acquaintance of his tells how he tried to get MTV to interview him and Jim Thirlwell together in New York City, but the people in power didn’t want anything to do with the notorious left-field eminence grise who makes a crust these days by remixing EMF and Nine Inch Nails in suitable f….off ‘industrial’ manner.  Matt went on to do the interview alone and wryly twist every statement around to include a statement of how great Foetus was.

As the tail-lights of slow-moving cars fade in Rome, a twinkle plays in his eyes as he plots another quip, a football reference and the art of the quick wind-up.  We might all wish we could speak the language of one of the world’s oldest cities, but then we could be somewhere very familiar by slapping ‘Dusk’ on the turntable, dimming the lights and ingesting some whiskey.  We could be watching the sun go down over London town.