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Nathan Holmes

“We throw a lot of things at each other.” Kevin Devine is talking about Andy Hull and metaphorically, of course, about ideas. Not the amps and guitars he’d previously been joking about. Though he confesses there have been “Maybe, two hairy moments” in the making of the two Bad Books records with his good friends from Atlanta, indie-rockers, Manchester Orchestra.

It’s difficult though for both Kevin and Andy to find time to collaborate on their highly acclaimed side-project, given that their respective bands tour so much. Devine’s current schedule would give even the most ardent globetrotter a headache: a two-month European tour ending in the UK was preceded by a visit to Australia which was sandwiched in between solo acoustic shows back in his native US. His eight-show stop in the UK is succeeded by a US tour supporting Say Anything, which is followed by a return to the UK to support indie pop-rockers, Cursive. He’s then back to the States as a month-long acoustic support to mewithoutYou. After that, it’s show time at the Bunbury Music Festival and Lollapalooza.

But for now, Devine is still. Halfway through his tour of the UK, off the back of his sixth solo album, Between The Concrete And Clouds, he’s relaxing before his headline show at the Joiners, Southampton. At 32 and having been a touring musician for nigh on 15 years, he’s diplomatic about life on the road: “I tour a lot. I tour a lot. It sounds cliché but I try to take one day at a time. The way I measure the success of a tour is so much different now than it was when I was a little younger. Now it’s more about if I feel sane this far into it, because you get tired. It’s a great thing, but it is a lot of travel and we’re not touring in a bus or a private jet or anything.”

Ever since his 2002 release of The Circle Gets The Square, Devine’s incessant touring has been one of his hallmarks as a musician. It has meant that his records are, more often than not, written on the road: in the van or backstage at a venue. But for Between The Concrete And Clouds he took a decidedly different approach and chose the routine of structure over the routine of chaos; in his hometown of Brooklyn, New York, he went to work. Well, kind of: “It’s always jarring when I come home from being on tour,” he says. “So I started to go into our rehearsal space almost like someone going into his office, from like two to seven o’clock every day. I was coming up with melodies and multi-tracking ideas, and not worrying about lyrics right away.”

A new work ethic, a new style

The result of a change in focus and structure makes for a record that is far more succinct and musically consistent than before, something Kevin had in mind even before he started writing. “I wanted it to be like the first two Strokes records, or the Ramones - not that the record sounds like that, but there’s a certain (quickly clicks fingers three times) to it and when it’s over you’re surprised and you want to start it over again. “I also wanted to keep the musicality and thematic depth of what I tend to write but I wanted to make them my weird version of pop songs. I knew I wanted it to be concise and tight and there aren’t really a lot of pauses, which gives you a chance to keep people engaged before they drift off somewhere or look at their iPhone.”

The pride Kevin feels for his newest creation is plain to see, not just in the way he talks about it, but in the way he performs it. But he’s been in the business long enough to understand that everyone might not drink it up as their own cup of tea and, sometimes, that’s just how it is. “Records are funny... Half the people that responded to it on the internet or at shows were like, ‘It’s my favourite record you’ve ever made’, and then the other half were like, ‘I wish it was more like that or this’. But I think if you have six albums and each one has its own camp around it of people that say ‘That’s the best one’, then you’re doing something right because I wouldn’t want to make the same record six times. I wouldn’t want to be making the music that I was making at 19, or even 25 or 28. You want to change.

“I think it’s the most consistent record I’ve ever made, the most of a piece. I really like the songs and I love the way it sounds. I think that right now it’s my favourite, but every new record I make is my favourite. I understand if it’s not that way for the fans, but I have to feel that way otherwise why would you put it out? If you make one and think, ‘Hmm, this is pretty garbage’, I think you should just sit on it.”

One glaring omission from Between The Concrete And Clouds is any form of an acoustic song - a first for a Kevin Devine record and possible reason as to why people might not respond to it as well, such is the love Devine fans have for his acoustic material. How much hate mail did he get for that one? “Well... (Laughing) what’s really funny is that I show up at a show with the band there’s always someone who goes, ‘Oh I wish you played more alone’. And if I show up alone there’s always someone who goes, ‘Oh I wish the band was here.’ You can’t please everyone. It’s hard if you try to do it, but once you realise you can’t do it, it’s not hard anymore. It’s been a long battle to get to this point but it seems to me people get that it’s a conscious choice that there’s two different manifestations of these songs: one that’s how it is when I play alone and one with the band.

 

“I think people have their preference but I think it’s gotten to the place where the real hard-core fans respect that and get something out of both and like going to a show and not knowing what kind of show they’re going to get. But at the same time I’m sure there’s people who wish the whole record was acoustic and I’m sure there’s some people who wish I’d never make an acoustic song again. And there are some people who aren’t ever going to like either. You can’t please everyone. You’ve got make it for yourself, and that doesn’t mean make it inscrutable and opaque so people can’t get into, but you have to like it yourself and everyone will or won’t from there.”

Bad Books

Bad Books, a “true accident, if there ever was one”, has turned into a pretty successful stroke of serendipity. Conceived and born within a week, from the simple idea of filling some time off by collaborating with long-time friends Manchester Orchestra, it has now turned into a fully-fledged band that has toured the States, played festivals and a second album on the horizon. “It’s ninety-per-cent finished. We still have to do keyboards and percussion, so all of Chris Freeman’s parts - the lazy son-of-a-bitch! I think it’s really good. It feels more like a band than the last one did.”

One could be forgiven for thinking that there would be a clash of egos when having to collaborate and share their creative jurisdiction, given that both Kevin and Andy Hull (lead singer of Manchester Orchestra) are used to having sole creative control of their respective projects. “I feel like, because we both have an immense amount of respect for each other one’s instincts, if one of us feels really strongly about seeing something through the other one will go for it and if it doesn’t work we’ll be like ‘I don’t think that’s it.’ But it is a different experience, for sure, going into something like that and I’m sure it is for Andy too, but I think we get good things out of each other because you have to give over some of that control.”

But what about the long term future for Kevin, surely someone who clearly loves every aspect of what he does won’t be calling it a day anytime soon? “I can’t see a non-circumstantial reason why I would stop doing what I’m doing. I still love writing, I still love playing it in front of people and I still love travelling. I have a really nice life at home with very understanding people that are very supportive about what I do. I don’t have children and I could see that being an issue, but I also have friends like David Bazan or Matt Prior from the Get Up Kids that do it and they make it work. It’s a lot of work but if you have the right situation it’s not an impossible thing to do.   

“The only way I could see myself stopping is if I had a sea change where I was just burnt on it or if it became something that was totally financially untenable. Like, if people stopped caring and people stopped coming to shows and I was spending money to go out and play. But that doesn’t mean I would stop making songs or writing music or whatever, it just means that I don’t know that I would tour the way I do. It’s what I want my life’s work to be. I guess I could have seven records by the time I’m 33, so if I keep going at that rate, 15 by 43. By 53 or even 63, who knows?”