The Enemy Chorus album artwork

Defiantly paddling against the mainstream, The Earlies know what they're not. And a damn good thing that is too...

Words by Luke Friend

(First published in Stranger 13, February 2007)

The room resembles an old curiosity shop of musical instruments. Tucked away at the back of a small studio that itself is tucked away on a small, anonymous trading estate somewhere in Greater Manchester, it waits to be filled. With people. And with noise. The instruments themselves provide insights to both elements. A Hammond organ sits next to a moog synth. Guitars stand propped up against the walls, side-by-side with cases that hold saxophone and trumpet. Yet more keyboards, arranged by necessity because of lack of space and plug sockets. A minimal drum kit in the corner.

The band eventually files in, taking their respective places in the room. Three becomes four and quickly swells to eight. By the time a late arriving cello fills the last possible space, the room holds nine men and women. It is quite a sight. And then one hell of a sound. It’s The Earlies and they have come to rehearse.

Sight and sound. The band initially attracted attention for both. Released in 2004, their debut album These Were The Earlies received high praise for its melodic ingenuity. Then when they took their show on the road, the spectacle of a stage heavy under the weight of bodies, beards and a wide array of instruments was undeniable. The fact that the four core members of the band came from not just different cities but different countries – with Giles Hatton and Christian Madden hailing from Burnley and Brandon Carr and John Mark Lapham from Texas – only added to the intrigue. Here was a band the music press just couldn’t quite figure out. Not that it stopped them from trying. OK…melodies…harmonies... the singer’s from America right? The rolodex of popular music 1960 to present day was spun so viciously that they were compared to The Flaming Lips, Brian Wilson and Mercury Rev. And that was just in one review.

The Earlies

Listening to them rehearse, with the new album The Enemy Chorus just a couple of weeks away from release and a UK tour in March, what they actually sound like is nothing else you’ve heard. “Let’s just crack into it and then talk about what went wrong,” says Christian from behind his wall of keyboards. And they do just that. It’s a fierce sound, which grows with each re-playing of a song, as they tinker and fine tune, adding, subtracting until they reach a real crescendo. The new songs sound darker, the introduction of a harder edge but one still tempered by moments of real uplifting beauty. I wonder how much these new tunes are a reflection of our uncertain times?

“I would say that’s a fair comment,” Giles tells me later. “Certainly musically that’s the case, and the lyrics are informed by the music. Without trying to be overtly political, you can’t help but be influenced by the environment you are living in. Making a darker record has something to do with the anxiety that everybody’s feeling.”

But The Enemy Chorus is also a product of a shift in their influences. “The kind of stuff we were listening to had gone from the more pastoral – The Beach Boys and psychedelic stuff – into heavy, progressive rock, like Neu! and Faust,” Giles says. “That’s where your initial sound for a project starts developing from; what’s floating your boat at any given moment.”

The Enemy Chorus album artwork

And it is the introduction of the dark that not only helps make those uplifting moments all the more so, but also confirms The Earlies as one of the few current bands with genuine depth. “We always wanted to make something that was very sonically diverse with a strong emotional chord to it,” Giles says. “It’s a bit of a sonic attack, so you want those euphoric moments in there too.”

With a promotional show in Paris just a few days away, the rehearsal continues. The eagerness to take the new record on the road is obvious; the album was finished in June 2006. And playing live allows The Earlies another chance to expand the boundaries.

“We want the live band to be a totally separate experience from the records,” Giles says. This is what I’m witnessing. Not an exact science but rather a trial and error process to find what will work live. “I’m always incredibly disappointed when I go and see a band who have made a particular record and then you get there and they’re just re-creating it live,” Giles says. “What’s the fucking point?”

And so what I’m also witnessing is a group who, without pretence, are swimming against the backwash created by the current crop of hyped guitar bands. It feels like the formula for creating the formulaic is back. Look like The Stooges and sound like The Ramones (or is it the other way around, I forget?) Don’t worry about authenticity because your target audience – and how they scream when the lead singer attempts a sideways shuffle in his tighty-whitey jeans – weren’t born until 1990. “No one wants to take risks anymore,” Giles says. “Bands these days want a career don’t they? They don’t want to add to the canon of important music.”

But as the rehearsal draws to a close that’s exactly what it feels like The Earlies are doing. Inspiring music that stands as good a chance as any of meaning something in years to come. “Right, one more and then off to the pub,” Christian states. It’s incentive enough for all in the room. They play one more and then they disappear into the cold and the dark and the rain for some inspiration of their own.

www.theearlies.com