When did you start to believe you might possess such extraterrestrial qualities?
“Well, no-one in my family was musical. It was more of a great escape for me. I was in a couple of bands at school, spending more time talking about what covers we wanted to do than playing them, but I sang a bit and then, when I left school, it was really a case of, ‘What can I do that isn’t a real job?’ So I tried singing in another band, and obviously I was terrible and learning on the job. I just stuck around long enough that I found a way through. But I had heart, and that beat everything else. I used to do some decorating and I worked on building sites to pursue the dream. That’s the brilliant thing about youth – you feel like there are no horizons. I knew nothing, but I was so focused and I was hooked. I also loved books and writers. It’s that romantic idea of giving yourself to something just because it feels right, as opposed to thinking it has any kind of future. Yet ironically, here we are, a little later.”
When did the first hints of a future in music become apparent?
“When I began Bush. I was really just finding my way before. I looked for people to work with, but I was like, ‘Everyone’s such a twat!’ I had been playing guitar, I just wasn’t very good and I’m not that good now. Then I met Nigel [Pulsford, ex-Bush]. He was a great guitar player, but he didn’t want to work with me too much. He was making real money off jingles. I took some songs to him, and he was really good at making them sound way better than they were. He just had a way of playing fantastic guitar. I was lying in the bath listening to the demos, like, ‘Fucking hell, this is great.’ That’s when I had the epiphany – when I heard him. I had lost all ambition, and had all but given up on getting a record deal. When I’d started making music in Bush it was liberating, because I thought, ‘Well, the dream is kind of gone now.’ I was also discovering bands like My Bloody Valentine, Gang Of Four and Pixies, so I figured, ‘Just make music that makes you feel good.’ Then it all went what I like to call ‘peach-shaped’. The irony was that success came when I had let go of trying. Eventually, we got the Interscope deal when Jimmy Iovine heard Sixteen Stone. And the rest got me to this conversation!”
Given your low expectations, stardom must have come as a huge surprise. Did it fundamentally change you, did it freak you out, or did you handle it well?
“A combination of all those things. The weirdest thing was that I’d been slaving for enough time that it felt like I was in the right place. Even though that sounds weird to me. I got a sense that something was going on. But it was only when we went to America after being on the radio for the first time and we played CBGB in New York that I was like, ‘Whoa, what the fuck?!’ All I can remember is all these cool dudes and tattooed girls there, and thinking, ‘Oh my God, this is the best night of my life.’ Then we stayed on tour forever, just grinding, grinding, grinding. I was so naïve, but it was all so thrilling. Then there’s the juggernaut of being on MTV. It was otherworldly, like being in a space shuttle. But you need all those things at once to make that nuclear fuel. I think we took it well. We had a laugh, and we got along great. I don’t think we turned into divas or anything, because when you’re successful you also get beaten up. When you’re really successful you get headbutted often, and we got hit a lot. But I’m half-Scottish – I could take it! You need to kill me, or I’ll just get back up and shake it off.”