Gavin Clark is one of those instantly likeable, genuine people. So it’s not hard to see why he and famed director Shane Meadows have been friends since they first met 20 years ago. Though one turned to film and the other music they remained close friends and collaborated often, with Clarke contributing to the soundtrack of all but one of Meadows pictures. When not working for film Clarke played in bands Sunhouse and Clayhill, worked on a host of collaborations and did some of his most famous work with genre drifting British band UNKLE. In the 40 minute film The Living Room Meadows turns his camera on his long-term friend during a particularly tough passage in his life. Little seen until now, it will make its Irish premiere alongside fellow Meadows short Northern Soul and a full set from Gavin Clark himself.
How did you and Shane Meadows come to make The Living Room?
I was in a band called Sunhouse, which was a bit of a cult band. Then I was in a band called Clayhill but we got dropped. Shane just kind of caught me applying for a job to deliver pizza. He came to my house and he just said, “What are you doing? I’m not having this.” So basically he got this thing going with the BFI and Warp films. He basically said we’re making a documentary about you.
I really wasn’t in a good place. I had done all these things for years and I thought what can I do? I can deliver pizza. I had delivered pizza for Dominoes and Pizza Hut and been offered a managers position. But Shane said fuck that we’re going to make this film. This is back in 1997. I was on a real downer. I mean it’s not all sad. It’s tragic but funny. It’s, like, an ultimate buddy movie ‘cause it’s just me and him. We bought a Volvo off the street for 100 quid and it’s just loads of me driving around and him asking me questions. He would deliberately turn up an hour early just so there’s loads of footage of me with sleep in my eyes. It’s just a very real film about that bit of my life. It’s very sad but I suppose it worked out well. I asked him not to put it out at the time because it was too close to the bone. I’ve grown a pair of balls since then. I don’t have four balls by the way, my balls just got larger. I don’t know why, I might have to go to a doctor.
Would you say Shane saved you?
Shane is a catalyst for peoples’ imaginations. We met at Alton Towers of all places. He was face-painting, I was cooking chips. I kept hearing all this stuff about Shane, “He’s hilarious”. He grew up in the Midlands, in Uttoxeter, a real fighting town. I was this cool kid from London. I just met this guy and I thought, “Fucking hell, you’re the best person I’ve ever met!” We used to go out on these crazy adventures, drive around, be stupid. Since then we’ve been best friends.
You’ve worked together quite a lot, do you see your careers as intertwined?
I do see it like that. Without Shane, I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing and in a funny way I think Shane wouldn’t be doing what he’s doing. When I saw his first short film and he was playing all the characters I just thought it was brilliant, it made Alan Partridge look like an idiot. I don’t say this very often but I do say that guy is a genius. We’re brothers, it’s not a business thing, I love him to death, he loves me to death and it’s that simple.
Do you write music differently for film?
I just write songs. It’s different for other people who say, have a scene here, three-four timing, whatever, measure the pace of the film. While Shane just asked for a song and he made it fit. I can’t take credit. I mean I did do Somers Town where I did lots of instrumental things that I thought fitted the scenario that he wanted to create. I wanted it to be like Midnight Cowboy with a running theme and I think we succeeded in that. We get each other. I love him. My relationship with Shane is that he’s my beautiful friend. Though my girlfriend keeps saying how wonderful he is and then I’m like, “He’s not that great.”
Would you consider yourself a composer?
I see myself as an outsider composer. I can’t read music, I’m completely self taught. I didn’t know I could sing until I was 21 or 22. I had people come back to my house – though it wasn’t really a house, more a shit box – and I’d written a song but I was too shy so I went into the kitchen while I played it for them and when I came back everyone was crying. That’s when I realised I might be good.
Whose idea was it to match showing the film with a gig?
That’s Shane’s idea. What happened is my kids were in Devon and they’d been watching the DVD and my son was watching it with their friends and they were saying, “This is brilliant, why haven’t you put it out?” So I told Shane that I thought it was really weird that I had all these18-year old kids interested. I thought my market was 45-year old divorcees. All these young people really like it. I think there’s a shift, because of the internet probably, where it’s not about age anymore. It’s not about this beautiful 20-year old kid and thats why I love him. It’s about a 40-year old bloke who’s going grey but he’s brilliant so I want a ticket or I want his album.
Beautiful Skeletons, your collection that was released earlier this year comprises nearly twenty years of music. How do you feel when you listen back to that?
I see the change in me. Shane really just bullied me in to recording them, so I tried to pick from 270 or 280 songs and I listen to myself and think God I wrote some shit. Shane made me record. He’d call me and would say ‘Come over I’ve got this new piece of recording gear. I’d go over there and he’d just record me and he kept it all. I actually did lose a car, I still don’t know where it is. I think Shane took it on himself as like, if this guy can lose a car I have to save everything. Which he did bless him because he loves me and I love him for doing it. He heard all my songs first. I don’t read reviews but it makes me happy that he likes them. You just want to play gigs and make people feel happy… well not happy, my songs are quite sad but be an entertainer. I can’t wait to come to Dublin and entertain.
Have you been to Ireland before?
Yeah I’ve been all over… maybe four times. I love the people, they’re always so true and honest. Even the arseholes are nice.
You’ve done a lot of collaborations in your career especially with the likes of UNKLE and Helen Boulding. Do you have any favourites?
I’ll start off with UNKLE. I shouldn’t say it but I’m gonna anyway: I basically wrote all of James Lavelle’s lyrics. I’m gonna be completely honest, Pablo Clements and Josh Francis (aka DJ Shadow), pretty much are UNKLE. I don’t want to be a twat because I love James. He’s actually a very sweet guy. He got a lot out of me and he gave me lots of opportunities. I played all over the world because of James, I had to write all his lyrics but… I love James but he has to give credit where credit is due. In terms of Helen, we get on really well. We have an amazing connection where I spurt the words out of my mouth and she goes and does all the hard work. We’re going to make a record together this summer. It’s her record but we’re going to write it together. I’m looking to get something out of her that’s a bit rough and ready. I have a lot of range on my voice, I can do the whole rock thing, the deep and somewhere in the middle. I think it’s all the drinking and smoking that has given me a weird range.
So that’s the advice for aspiring singers, drink and smoke more?
Well I wouldn’t say it to my children. I think fundamentally, be real. Write about what you know about and be true. There’s a lot of songs I’ve recorded and I know I can’t put them out because they’re too personal and they’ll hurt people. They weren’t meant in a nasty way it was just me whining. You’ve just got to connect. I don’t mean to sound like a hippie. I’m not a hippie.
How do you feel about the business side of the industry?
I fucking hate it. I like promoters, I don’t hate all journalists, though I’ve met a lot of idiots. You’re signed to a record label and the guy who does the spreadsheets is paid double what you are.
If you could go back to the beginning of your career what would you do differently?
I’d remember my mum’s birthday.
Gavin Clark will be performing in The Button Factory on the 18th of July. Doors are 7pm and tickets €20 including a performance of Clark’s music with Leisure Society and screenings of both Shane Meadows films, The Living Room and Northern Soul.
Words: Eoghain Meakin
