Martin Newell – Illya Kuryakin Looked at Me

From THESTRANGEBREW

For those in the know, Martin Newell is one of the great English songwriters. He has produced records under a number of guises, most notably through The Cleaners From Venus. Their first burst of releases began in the early 1980s and had just a small cult following mainly due to Martin’s DIY approach and refusal to engage with the music industry.

However the world has finally caught up to his records in the internet age and the quality of Martin’s songs is now indisputable. The past few years have seen a big re-release campaign of his work with The Cleaners, solo records as well as an excellent new album out under The Cleaners From Venus moniker.

Martin speaks to Jason Barnard about the 60s pop that shaped his teen years and the unique career he’s forged; from mid-70s glam, surviving the 80s, 90s success and current renewal.

Martin, you have a great new album out ‘Return to Bohemia’.

Thank you. I’m glad people like it and it seems people do. I knew that it would be good as I made this album after I briefly died last year. I woke up one morning and had this mystery fit. It was probably due to fatigue and a stomach upset that caused me to have a potassium shortage. Basically I shorted out for a few minutes and woke up in hospital with a neurosurgeon looking at me saying ‘You’ve had a serious non-epileptic fit.’ I thought I have to get an album out to be proud of. I think I was subconsciously making an album just in case I wouldn’t make another one.

When I heard about your health troubles it brought me back to a track from your album ‘The Spirit Cage’.

‘My Funeral’. Well there’s been a lot of death around me this past year. I’ve been to five funerals in as many months. The first one was my mum’s. I just got out of hospital after my second eye operation and my mum died. I just got to the point where I just got inured to it. I thought ‘Hang on a minute. I better sing and dance and paint the walls.’ I reassessed things. I was becoming a grumpy old git until I briefly left the planet. There’s nothing wrong with me except a little high blood pressure. I casually cycle 16 miles round the countryside.

Let’s go back to your formative years. I’ve read you spent time abroad.

It must have been in September or October of ‘64 that I was shipped out to Singapore, very unhappy English boy with short back and sides, for the best part of two years. England had turned from black and white into Day-Glo. That was the last track I heard and took in my head with me from England to the far east. The Zombies ‘Leave Me Be’ was the last song I heard before going and it sums up black and white mid 1960s autumn for me.

So when you came back I assume you listened to the bands of the mid 60s like the Small Faces, Move and so on.

Yes, every man jack of them. They are my music influences. Tony Hicks, Allan Clarke and Graham Nash of The Hollies. Graham Gouldman is discernable in every era. He was writing with Captain Sensible and he left on his helicopter when I arrived on my bicycle. I missed him by half an hour. There’s a golden section in British songwriting between the summer of 1964 and the summer of 1968. That’s it. There’s great examples of whimsicality and genuinely great songwriting. Timeless, wonderful stuff. And although I don’t try and rewrite things I think ‘This is the form that I would like my songwriting to be in.’ It takes place in about three minutes, it begins and ends well and there’s a good chunk in the middle! There’s no dicking around putting effects on. You write a song before you go in the studio and it sounds good with whatever instrument you’ve written it on.

Fritz Fryer from The Four Pennies told me that once. He was an A&R man at Chrysalis or somewhere like that. I was 17 years old and he had me in his office. I didn’t even have to give him a tape. He just said ‘OK, what have you got?’ and I played him these songs. He said ‘You’re on the right track.’ If a song’s going to sound good it will sound good with one instrument and one voice. You should go with that.’ And I’ve struck with that my whole life. Everything after that is the easy bit really.

MARTIN NEWELL

Give him the moonlight
Give him the dawn
A stove pipe hat like Frankie Vaughan
He’s off to do somebody’s lawn
Who’s that then. Martin Newell

Rock a doodle doodle do
The man has got two jobs to do
They call him germinator two
Who. Martin Newell

It’s hard the graft
And scant ‘o play
Each twenty-four hour working day
For a nine-yard poem
And a pile of hay
Hey. Martin Newell

He makes me feel like an idle slob
For only having one job
He’s certainly got the gift of the gob
Sod. Martin Newell

Off with the duvet
Under the light
From bed to verse in the dead of night
Insomnia written all over his kite
Spritely. Martin Newell

Lady Chatterly was looking for a lover
For a little bit of this that and yes some of the other
Who had all three angles covered.
Martin Newell

Is your garden overgrown
A sad reflection on your home
A pestilential disaster zone
Phone. Martin Newell

He’ll gladly tangle with the weeds
And meet all your herbacious needs
And then he’s got a gig in leeds
Who’s that then. Martin Newell

With a shank and a shovel
The rythm of the rake
The garden of eden without the snake
Who did the business for fucks sake
Martin Newell

Fit like a fiddle
Drinks like a fish
You should be so tough you wish
He’s got muscles in his piss
Who’s this. Martin Newell

A shallow dish of slender gruel
And a pint of ale his only fuel
Goes by the name of Martin Newell
Who’s that then. Martin Newell

Every seven years it’s said
Martin Newell goes to bed
That’s enough poems. ed