SLEEPER
Truth be told, I started this website because of Sleeper.
It’s a fair few years ago now, but I got thinking - in the midst of a pretty bad OCD flare up - that there was something pretty special in a website, that being ‘Indie Heaven’, that collated interviews with the bands and the musicians that mattered so much to me when I was a teenager. I think the essence of that - teenagers, bands, crushes, posters, first this and first that - is the essence of everything glorious about pop music. The harder I found the world, the more I retreated to the stuff that alway made me so happy. The stuff that existed before OCD. Before adulthood. Before complexity. It just took me a while to get this done. Firstly because singer Louise Wener is a busy woman. And also because I was nervous. Really nervous. I loved Sleeper as a teenager as much as I’ve ever loved a band.
But we got there and I’m really happy with what came out of it. I hope you like it too.
Hello Louise! Your excellent 2011 Britpop memoir Just For One Day covers so much of the Sleeper story. But this Q&A has to start somewhere. Tell me about the beginning.
“I’m not sure where to date that from! The band went through so many incarnations. But there was an early gig at Bath Moles I remember, because it felt like something was about to change for us. We’d been doing these toilet gigs to a handful of people for so long. That show was the first time I remember the crowd knowing the words to a song. It was full and sweaty and people were singing along to an early song, ‘One Girl Dreaming’. I remember thinking, ‘this is real. It’s going to work. We can do this…’”
There’s loads of lovely stuff in the book about how appearing on Top Of The Pops was your childhood dream. When I got to go, years ago with The Futureheads, I couldn’t believe how small the studio was! Did it live up to expectations?
“It’s brilliantly ordinary. Breeze block corridors, tiny dressing rooms. You half expect Mrs Doyle from Father Ted to appear rattling an ancient tea trolly. TV studios often feel unremarkable, once you’ve seen their bones, the ‘workings out’. But it was exhilarating, still. The idea I might appear on Top of The Pops was so far away from my reality, growing up. So to actually get there, to watch it back on TV later, felt immense. The history of the show creates its own unique glamour.”
A few days ago, ‘Inbetweener’ turned twenty-six years old. It would have been one of the very first singles I ever bought. Dale Winton is in the video. Do you have any good stories?
“Only that he was exactly as lovely as you’d expect. Very funny. Generous. I do have a brilliant Dale story, yes… but I’m sworn to secrecy. Sorry.”
Drat. Okay, so Sleeper existed in tandem with riot grrrl. Nobody would label Sleeper riot grrrl, but do you have any thoughts on that scene? I always thought ‘Alice In Vain’ was, to a degree, a nod to that stuff…
“It absolutely was. L7 on The Word was a seminal moment for me - but my aim wasn’t to make music that was explicitly a ‘statement’. That felt like its own set of restrictions. I was influenced by Hole and Courtney Love. I loved her ambition. I wanted to blow things up. To stand centre stage with my guitar and rock it to as many people as possible. I was less keen on discussing the merits of intersectionality via the power of song.”
There’s old footage on YouTube where you’re being interviewed by Ralf Little. He basically says he used think of you and wank. And there’s a clip of Chris Evans interviewing you on TFI Friday where he basically says he’d like to shag you. I’m not naïve enough to be surprised by any of this, but I am interested to know what you felt like during these incidents, and if you ever felt you could complain to anyone afterwards or even during?
“I know you raise this question with the best of intentions, but I get asked this often and, in some ways, answering it feels like continuing a narrative. Women in music reflecting on how they were patronized and objectified. I mean how does anyone think it felt? I could write chapters on it. Or nothing at all. The pressure was immense. You did the shows with the bullshit presenters. The cover shoots where the ignorant photographer would try, and fail, to get you to undo an extra button. You accepted the indie press would call for you to be burnt as a witch and that ‘right-on’ dicks in Dr Martens would write articles calling you a ‘madam’ or a ‘tart’. Or the engine stalled. You were difficult, mouthy and outspoken. Women were breaking new boundaries in the 90s. Staking our claim to an industry that didn’t belong to us. It was compromise. A complex navigation that we were making up as we went along. And no one had our back.”
Okay, well I have a theory, so indulge me! The men of Britpop carried on making music when that scene fell apart. You, Miki from Lush, Elastica, later bands like Kenickie… you all took decades out. Did that have anything to do with your experiences? Or is my OCD addled mind overthinking things like they always do?
“Well like I say, women were breaking ground in the Britpop era. Fronting bands. Growing as writers and performers. Creating new role models. It’s hard to be what you can’t see, and there were few female rock idols growing up. We tried to bridge that gap but were held to impossible standards. Belittled. Put back in our boxes. The environment felt foreign to me. The gatekeepers - all men - operated a nauseating points system of record-collector coolness that many women didn’t fit into. I came to music via a different route. It felt like you were marked down for not worshiping at the altar of indie. It was almost ideological. I don’t know. Perhaps those women would have flourished if they hadn’t had to fight so hard for every inch. I’m a songwriter. I’m a musician. It’s taken me years to be able to say it. That it took so long is a direct consequence of those times.”
The narrative was ‘in the day’ that you were ‘opinionated’. Nobody said this about Damon Albarn or Noel Gallagher and they said some WILD SHIT. But imagine, if you will… how would the Louise Wener of 1995 fare within the zealous, social media frenzy of 2021?
“Frenzy is right. People’s willingness to destroy others for breaking whatever Twitter orthodoxy they’re into that day is depressing. So much of cancel culture is about power and control. So often the opposite of the virtue it considers itself to be.”
No doubt. But I’ve had deep respect for you calling antisemitism out on Twitter these last few years – though I imagine it has been horrendous. What does Jewishness mean to you?
“I’m conflicted about Twitter. I don’t engage that much. You can end up simply speaking to your own tribe or incurring the unhinged wrath of someone else’s. People get caught up in their own narcissism too, so it’s all pretty fraught. But some - women in particular - have been incredibly brave on calling out antisemitism online. The abuse they’ve received is unconscionable. I tweeted during the last election because I was genuinely appalled - and scared - by what was happening. I’m not religious but Jewishness is a part of my family heritage that I treasure. I’ve never felt more aware of it than I have these last few years. Sadly, not for positive reasons.”
On the subject of family, your sister - the writer Sue Margolis - passed away in 2017. Sleeper reactivated the same year. Was Sue’s passing important to your decision to do the band again after so long away?
“Yes, it absolutely was. Jon [Stewart, guitar] and I were approaching 50 and we’d talked about doing a gig to celebrate, then promptly forgot all about it. The following year my sister was diagnosed with stage four cancer. I fast-forwarded into a period of depression at that point and it felt pretty bleak. We were offered a tour in the middle of it all and I would never have said yes normally. I had no idea whether we could carry it off. If I could. Twenty-years is so long, it was another lifetime. I think that goal of re-forming was my way of coping with 2017. I had to jump off that cliff in the face of something crushing. It scared me to do it. Which was the point.”
I’m so pleased you did - and that you brought new songs with you. Historically, some of your best songs are character pieces. But it feels like on new, fourth album The Modern Age you’re writing more about yourself and actual experiences. Again, am I over thinking it?
“No, you’re right. I would largely hide my own feelings behind characters in the early days. I’d give my failings, success or sadness to them. Growing older, having children, I’m less afraid of that openness. I felt so flawed and insecure when I was younger. It’s contradictory, but I think you need a certain level of security in yourself, in your position, to speak directly and honestly.”
I think the album closer, ‘Big Black Sun’ is one of the best songs you’ve ever written. You sound like Marianne Faithfull! Can you tell me everything about that song? Thanks.
“I’d love to sound like Marianne! I was obsessed with her album, Broken English when I was a teenager. ‘Black Sun’ is the only one on Modern Age that dates back to our lost demo recordings from around 2000. The plan was to re-record it, but the original worked so well that Stephen Street simply re-mixed it with a couple of small embellishments. Andy put the entire backing track together post Sleeper split and I think much of that vocal was improvised. Just singing in our attic. Lyrics made up on the spot. It was a real…. mood.”
Despite Sleeper being one of my favourite bands, until I saw you play in Islington last year – man, I miss the old world – I only ever saw you once, with The Wannadies and 60 Ft. Dolls, in Sheffield. Thanks to this very authoritative website, I now know that was October 15th, 1995. I was a teenager and I drank too much and smoked a whole pack of Camels and was sick. But do you remember anything from that night?
“I miss the old world. Like everyone, I want it back very, very badly. But that was a pretty full on tour. Wannadies and Dolls were not known for their understated behaviour.”
Okay, there’s no narrative to this interview now. It’s just shit I want to know. Um… don’t hate me. You had a thing of blinking a lot when you sang. Have you ever had conjunctivitis?
“I have crappy eyesight. Basically a mole! If there’s a bright light shining on me, a video shoot, I… blink.”
That’s that cleared up. I always loved that old photo aesthetic you had on your album sleeves. Where did that come from? Also, who drew the logo that I drew on my school jotter over and over again? Do you remember?
“I don’t. Andy [Maclure, drums, and Mr. Louse Wener] chose that first SMART cover, the Mercury astronauts. He chose them because they were a gang. A band. Reaching out to the most amazing adventure of their lives. And they had cool boots!”
I’ve read you say that Britpop - for want of a better word - was hyper competitive. Did you make any lasting friendships from that world during that time? The older I get the more I realise that your weren’t all hanging out in a treehouse being best mates.
“Not really! I was too busy plotting how to take them down or worrying they were trying to take us down. It was a druggy, paranoid time, but also immense fun. We’ve crossed paths with a lot of people from that era since our comeback. They are all, without exception, fantastically decent.”
Sleeper’s old bassist, Diid [Osman]. Do you ever cross paths? What’s he doing now?
“Andy and Jon caught up with him recently. He’s still working in music. He became a father for the first time last year, which is a fabulous thing. We may yet be able to sort something where he plays a gig with us. If gigs are ever…”
Oh don’t. Can you tell me a bit about the recent Wedding Present team-up. How did that come about? I presume via Jon playing guitar for them these last few years?
“Jon’s been moonlighting. He’s been a huge fan for decades so it’s an absolute thrill for him. Jon played the demo of ‘We Should Be Together’ to David [Gedge], and it happened from there.”
What are the chances I might someday get to hear the unreleased solo album that you made after Sleeper split? The story about George Michael guesting on it is pretty well told. I’m trying to think of something that you haven’t said before. Um… what did he smell like?
“There are four tracks on This Time Tomorrow, our ‘long lost’ album that was just released. Twenty-years in the making. Ten unreleased songs that we’ve lived with and loved all this time. Those four songs were meant to be part of my solo album. George Michael sings a small backing vocal on one of the tracks. What did he smell like? Very sharp and clean. Always wearing the good cologne.”
I’m pleased to hear that. Are you writing any more novels? Please write some more novels.
“I’d love to. I’m going to.”
Good. Before they went into administration, The Modern Age was supposed to be released on the crowdfunding site PledgeMusic. Discuss!
“It was theft. They knew the company was going under but were still taking on more bands and more campaigns with the direct knowledge they were stealing from people. It was a gorgeous thing for fans to trust and invest in us after all that time. Pledge ripped the contract between band and fan apart. The corruption spanned the company. They know who they are. And they are wretched.”
I don’t really want this interview to end. It’s really been quite the thrill. But I guess I’ll leave you with this. Do you think The Modern Age is the Sleeper record you would have made if you’d never split up?
“I don’t. We’d never have made it without the intervening years. It’s entirely a product of that gap.”