It had been a long time coming, but, finally, Ash felt ready to challenge for
the prize that had eluded them. The Downpatrick band had already rejuvenated
their career in Britain. An exuberant third album had lifted the millstone
of early success which had weighed them down since their heyday in the
Britpop era and they had crowned their renaissance with a brace of hit
singles and a triumphant appearance at the Reading festival.
So, by the summer of 2002, America beckoned. Ash were fired up at the prospect
of playing the prestigious Area 2 touring festival, joining a heavyweight
bill that included David Bowie and Moby, who organised the event. Earlier
attempts to break the US market had been derailed by the band’s sniffy
attitude and juvenile behaviour, turning up cripplingly hung over for vital
interviews and spending tours in an alcoholic haze. This time, Ash were
determined it would be different. But things didn’t go entirely to plan.
“We felt there was unfinished business in the States,” says Tim Wheeler, the
band’s singer. “We did a lot of touring there in 1996, and then our deal
fell through; then we got a deal with Dreamworks, but we ended up only doing
two gigs in America that whole time. So we were gutted that we didn’t get to
go back for five years.
“But the Area 2 tour was a slog. We were first on the bill, on stage at three
o’clock in the afternoon, playing 20,000 seat amphitheatres with maybe only
1,000 people there, spread out, eating their hot dogs. It was a glorified
soundcheck. That was a struggle, it was probably the hardest tour we did.”
It may not have been the all- conquering return they were hoping for, but this
time around America left its mark on Ash. Far from being discouraged, they
returned for more. They spent most of the next 18 months playing in the US,
opening for acts such as Coldplay, sharing bills with grassroots American
punk bands, and finally headlining their own back-to-basics tour, travelling
in a van from city to city, performing in 28 venues in 31 days.
The result is Meltdown, Ash’s fourth full-length album. It leaves behind the
breathless punk-pop with which the group made their name in favour of a
leaner, harder sound imbued with the production values of American rock
bands such as Red Hot Chili Peppers and Queens of the Stone Age.
It’s not only the music that has changed. Gone are the whey-faced teen urchins
from Downpatrick who in 1996 topped the UK charts with their million-selling
debut album, 1977. These days they carry themselves with the deportment of
grizzled alternative rockers, albeit with their innate mateyness intact: the
unshaven Wheeler is resplendent in black t-shirt and elaborate tattoos while
drummer Rick McMurray sprawls himself lazily on the sofa of a Dublin hotel.
But perhaps the most important change is one of attitude. Whereas previously
Ash — Downpatrick natives Wheeler, McMurray and bassist Mark Hamilton plus
English guitarist Charlotte Hatherley — garnered a reputation for sloppy
high jinks and for blowing gilt-edged opportunities, particularly after
their first album, now there is palpable sense of purpose. In the past,
touring merely provided a chance to party, but since the rejuvenating
release in 2001 of their third album, Free All Angels, the band have used
their time on the road to better effect.
“It took a long time for people to take us seriously, but I think with the
longevity of the group people have started to see us in a different light,”
says Wheeler. “We’ve definitely got much more professional. I’ve got to
think of my voice: I can’t do a decent show after a three-day drinking
bender or whatever: it’s not going to work.
“On tour I made sure I had a room every day where I could go to write after
the soundcheck and even after the gig. It was quite a disciplined thing:
that definitely wouldn’t have been the case in the past.”
It has, as Wheeler says, been a learning curve but, perhaps unsurprisingly for
a band who had signed a record deal and released a mini-album, Trailer,
before they left school, it has taken them a long time to absorb all their
lessons. It is 10 years since Ash, then a trio, recorded their first single,
causing a stir with their mix of thrashy guitar pop and cartoonish sci-fi
themes.
For all their teen enthusiasm, even early on they kept a keen eye on their
careers. Wheeler wrote the song Girl From Mars when he was 16, but held it
back because he thought it was too good to release until he had left school;
two weeks after finishing his exams Wheeler was on Top of the Pops playing
the song.
“That was my high point,” he says. “But I actually liked being in school,
because I just knew the way things were going as soon as I left it, I was
going to be leaving behind all my friends and taking off straight away. And
a lot of that went into 1977.”
Sure enough, hormonally overcharged songs such as Kung Fu and Oh Yeah struck a
chord with fans and critics alike: Ash found themselves co-opted into the
Britpop boom, adding Hatherley to the line-up in 1997. But after their
initial success, Ash found themselves worn out both by their party lifestyle
and Wheeler’s inability to match the inspiration of 1977 on the laboured,
grungey sequel, Nu-Clear Sounds.
“The whole struggle with writing Nu-Clear sounds was a low point,” he says.
“It really had lost its joy. Writing was my favourite thing, and it had been
so easy when I had been a teenager, but then I really struggled. We knew we
were in trouble, but even then we didn’t even really consider giving up. We
just went back and took a year and a half off. That gave us space to breath
and time to think, until we knew we had enough strong material.”
The result, Free All Angels, saved Ash’s career, yielding sparky hit singles
such as Burn Baby Burn and Shining Light as Wheeler regained much of his pop
nous. But the album also highlighted the problems of groups as they grow
older: at 27 years old, Wheeler is confronted with the dilemma of
progressing creatively without alienating his original fans.
“There is a concern as a rock group that so many of them become irrelevant as
they get older, that they lose touch with what made them good in the first
place,” says Wheeler. “But we were always quite worried about losing our
edge: so now we’re not putting out so much lighter, novelty stuff.”
Ash parted company with long-time producer Owen Morris to record the new album
with Foo Fighters engineer Nick Raskulinecz in the studio in which Nirvana
made Nevermind. As a consequence, Meltdown is indeed heavier and darker.
Some hearts will sink at the thought of Ash sacrificing their pop charm for
a hard rock direction: after all, fellow northerners Therapy? never
recovered their early success after switching to a more metallic approach.
But dirges such as Clones apart, the melodic drive of tracks such as
Starcross’d and the new single Orpheus recall superior American alternative
rock acts like Jane’s Addiction in their pomp, while titles such as Vampire
Love suggest the band haven’t yet left their sci-fi past behind.
Whether America embraces Ash remains to be seen: they are again looking for a
new US deal after Kinetic, their most recent American label, collapsed. But
with their newfound work ethic, the band are in it for the long haul.
“When I was 18 I said we’ll probably peak at 24 and lose it at 28, which now I
think is bullshit,” says Wheeler. “People ask us why did we stick around so
long. I don’t think it’s because of any one reason: there’s dedication,
self- belief, a love of doing it and keeping it fresh for ourselves. We
probably find America interesting because there’s more of a longevity thing,
you see bands developing over a few albums, whereas in England there’s such
a quick turnover of bands.
“And we’re still very ambitious. We love getting recognition, we love the buzz
of releasing a new record: it is addictive. I suppose if you get a number
one album at 18 years old, you always want to relive that.”
Meltdown is released on May 14 on Infectious records
