A field in Oxfordshire, 2003: A rather awkward, extremely green wannabe music journalist sits on the grass facing the band that earlier blew his socks off with a 30 minute blast of perfect indie pop in a barn a few hours ago. Unlike the three other interviews he’s conducted in his brief stint scribbling thoughts about bands, he knows nothing about this trio beyond a name and the feeling that set left him with. His index finger presses record on his newly purchased digital dictaphone.
Twenty-two years later the same finger clicks the left button of a computer mouse to open an email from a name he now knows well. No longer green, though increasingly grey, a familiar feeling washes over him as he opens the streaming link and clicks play.
Anyway, enough of this self-indulgent third person nonsense – Matt Edible, then of the Edible Five Foot Smiths, was indeed interviewed for the very first edition of Joyzine at Truck Fest 2003, and we’ve kept in touch sporadically since then as that band went their separate ways and a new group, The Obtuse Angels, joined him – there was also a stint on guitar with Joyzine favourites Fonda 500, who incidentally were also interviewed for that same issue.
Edible returns this week with a new album, The Optometrist, complete with splendid eye-test themed artwork. It’s a wonderfully preposterous record that wanders the guitar music map, veering from expansive prog rock opera epics like ‘Cat Piss’, which could easily have been written by Queen at their most indulgent, and beautifully chilling post-rock tech dystopia themed finale ‘The Big Reveal’, via the Adam Ant toms that open ‘Idiot’, on to the fist pumping stadium rock of the title track, through the gloriously silly glam rock squelch of ‘Mirror Shoes’ by way of Edible’s fondness for an extended metaphor on the likes of ‘Cancelled (A Love Story for All Seasons)’ and playful single ‘Better Than Oasis’.
We caught up with Matt Edible to guide us through the record, track by track.
The Optometrist
A feel-good one to open. A straight shooting, foot on the gas, power pop chug of guitars. This was actually one of the first songs I started to write after finishing the first album (Stairgazing). I’d got a digital multi-track recorder set up in a room at home with the plan of demo-ing the next record. The plan was that I’d record with Joe Bennett (Dreaming Spires, Goldrush) in Oxfordshire again but pretty much as soon I started, lockdown hit. I suddenly had a lot more time on my hands and found myself developing the songs further than just demos. I’d been playing in the recent incarnation of early nineties Hull legends Kingmaker for a while so I gave drummer John Andrew a shout. He started popping to the rehearsal room and putting drum parts down for me. It soon became clear that we were actually making the record.
The Optometrist always felt like it would open the album and, on naming it, I was pretty sure it would be the title track as well. As soon as I linked the idea of an optimist and an optometrist I was in; make the world look a bit more positive.
A big old name-check for The Fall in the lyrics as well – they make any day better.
Cancelled (A Love For All Seasons)
The world turned to TV. Loads of series were commissioned then cancelled before they had a chance to shine. That’s the metaphor that weaves its way through this apathetic love story, written as a duet between two incompatible characters. I was listening to a lot of Ezra Furman around that time so that’s the other voice I had in mind when I was writing. I did make a plea into the void to see if she’d be up for recording the second part, alas, I think she had quite a lot going on at the time and probably missed the request!
We tried a couple of angles including one with Bod from Fonda 500 (whose backing vocals appear on the song) but demoitis had set in so we ended up using my vocal throughout.
The clarinets on this song helped shape the way I approached the album as a whole. I’d originally put them there as a guide for strings (which I can’t play) but the clarinets sounded really distinct. I decided then that I was going to try and restrict myself to instruments I had available to me and could record myself.
Mirror Shoes
Like a lot of guitar players, I’m a big fan of an effects pedal. When I learned that Danish pedal-maker Reuss were making a clone of Warren Ellis’ Muzz pedal, I had to have one. It’s absolutely brutal, best used to just make a racket, but the first two notes I played when I plugged it in became the opening riff for Mirror Shoes. That pedal is all over this song.
The lyrics were inspired by a pair of silver platform boots my partner got me for Christmas. As soon as I saw them I said “I’m gonna write a song about those”. It wrote itself, big T-Rex and Queen vibes which led to the lyrics being a bunch of bold, arrogant declarations. It’s about duality. We all wear different masks for different aspects of life. Sometimes you just need the right shoes for the right job.
Idiot
Big lockdown vibes on this one. The whole world was going mad. Frauds and phoneys promoting “free speech” and “questioning everything”. Told from the point of view of one of these “normal guys” who amplifies hate and mistrust in “experts”. I’ve lost a few friends down rabbit-holes over the years and, if I’m being honest, probably haven’t been too far from slipping down a couple myself. Another glam stomper this one. This one seems to go down well live. It’s definitely fun to have people singing “I’m and Idiot” at us!
As the recordings developed and I realised that I’d want to start playing this stuff live. John was up for playing some shows so I approached local artist Sarah Shiels. She’s played bass for a bunch of bands around Hull and is an excellent musician. She put some better basslines than mine on the recordings and also added some backing vocals. Going forward it’ll be great having Sarah singing on stuff as she’s got a fantastic voice – I can’t help but feel I’ve wasted an opportunity just using it for really basic blunt harmonies like on this!
Cat Piss
I got ripped off buying the Fender Rhodes that features on this song. I had to lug it to and from the Midlands a few times to get it working. When I stopped for breaks, I always noted that the particular coffee chain had a mildy unpleasant aroma. The first line I had for this song was about “coffee that stinks of cat piss”. It was vaguely about the experience of someone taking advantage of another’s trusting, good nature. Needless to say, it also felt like there was a lot of that going on in the world in general so the you that “we’re coming for” ended up being the perpetrators of injustice in general rather than just some guy who was trying to make a few quid from a broken electric piano.
This is a long one. It starts with me sat at a piano thinking I’m Nick Cave then descends into prog madness before bursting into some fairly intense post-rock to end side A of the record.
Dog Dirt
What do you follow Cat Piss with? Dog Dirt of course! It was originally called Dog Shit but when we did the radio edit, we decided it sounded a bit more colloquial and playful as Dog Dirt so it (ahem) stuck.
Blatant gaslighting from people in power seems to have been more en vogue than ever recently. I thought the only way to articulately express my outrage was with a take on an old playground taunt – well, actually, I’m not sure I didn’t make the taunt up but it sounds familiar to me and has all the right elements.
This one’s definitely got “indie banger” written all over it. A bit like The Cribs covering Buzzcocks or something.
Triage
I describe Triage as a Lynchian ballad. It’s built on a few vignettes of stories based on images and feelings. I’m writing this just after the news of David Lynch’s passing so it feels especially poignant. There are a couple of nods to him on the whole record actually – Cancelled even has a cheeky little Twin Peaks baritone guitar line sneaked in there.
I’m really proud of how this one turned out. I think it’s got a real soulful feel to it. I thought it needed saxophones. I played a little bit when I was a teenager and so I found one for a reasonable price on eBay and had a go at the end section. I was pretty out of practice and worried that they sounded a bit weedy individually but layered up, tweaked, and mixed by John they really pack a punch.
John recorded a lot of Kingmaker’s demos and later B-sides, a lot of which actually sound better than some of the more expensive recordings. He actually recorded a few songs for my first band – Edible 5ft Smiths – back in the early noughties. My original plan had been to ask Joe Bennett to mix the record but John had been doing monitor mixes all the way through the process. They sounded really good so, in the end, we decided to do it all ourselves. I have found over the years that it does take a lot longer for me to be happy with mixes if I’m more directly involved in the process but I’m not sure I’d have it any other way.
Better Than Oasis
As a naive and arrogant teenager I had an argument with some friends about the merits of Noel Gallagher’s guitar playing. One thing led to another and I ended up declaring that I was probably a better player than him – I still cringe when I think about that. Anyway, I was thinking about that and thought it would make for a great name for a song. It ended up being a bit of a tribute to the Britpop era that I grew up in.
Oasis were a big deal for me when I was starting to make my own music (Knebworth was actually the first gig I ever went to!). I’d tried to learn guitar on a few occasions but never stuck with it. The simplicity of Oasis songs meant I could actually play them which really built my confidence.
As a fan, they were definitely more of a gateway band for me. I soon got more into the Manics and then Radiohead – then it was on to Mogwai, Melt Banana, Godspeed You! Black Emperor and beyond.
This is probably the most light-hearted of songs on the record with lots of tongue in cheek references both lyrically and musically. Originally the last line of the song was “I’m better than Oasis and I don’t need to try” – John wasn’t keen on how jokey the song played and so we changed the line to “and you’re the reason why” – suddenly it all made sense and it became a much more warm-hearted, tender love song.
The Big Reveal
A big song about big data with a big band (well, just loads of me!). This song started life as an instrumental track. I layered saxophone after saxophone upon clarinet on clarinet. The advantage of making a record on your own at home is that you can record again and again and again to make really full sounding recordings. I’m not sure my partner or may neighbour were as fond of this fact mind! When I stared writing the lyrics I had draft after draft describing a scenario like it was a movie and the camera was gradually pulling out and revealing more and more of the story. It all felt a bit hammy though and at some point the chorus ‘revealed’ itself to me and I realised it was about something else. Everyone was talking about algorithms and how they were an unseen hand influencing everyone, from what they bought to what they were thinking. I looked into the origins of data and discovered that basically people started logging data to keep track of land and possessions they stole from others. It seemed very fitting that the use of data has evolved with equally malevolent intent. Big data and algorithms are now intertwined with many of the themes that come up across the record so it felt fitting to close the album with this song about how everything has got so out of hand.
“I only ticked one box, now I can’t make it stop.”
The Optometrist is out on 14th February – order now on vinyl, cd or digital download via Bandcamp / Rough Trade / Norman Records or stream in all the usual places here
Matt Edible & The Obtuse Angels: Facebook / Instagram / Bandcamp
Article by Paul Maps
Photograph by Tom Atkin Photography
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