Heyoka Magazine: Did you always want to be a musician, even before you went to
art school, or was it the other way around?
Billy Childish: What is the other way around? Did you always want to
be an artist before you went to music school?
HM:
Laughs. Yeah.
BC:
No, music was a funny thing with me. I really liked it from when I
was a kid, I heard Dusty Springfield Lonnie Donagen and stuff like
that - Louis Armstrong and Frank Sinatra - and I found it all a bit
scary. Then I heard the Beatles when I was about 3 and really liked
them. My parents told me they were miming on television and I liked
that because you didn't have to be able to sing or play, you could
pretend to sing along. I had a Beatles wig and a toy guitar and
pretended to play looking at myself in the mirror and just opening
my mouth to the records - a bit like singing at school assembly when
we had to sing hymns in the morning. So that was my sort of
introduction to music and I thought it was good. But I wasn't
allowed to sing in the School choir or anything like that because
the music teacher told me that I was tone deaf. He’d listen out to
us in turn and when he came to me I got the elbow. So I never
learned to sing or play an instrument. I was warned off that type of
thing.
I
always find that strange in school - if you are not good at music,
you're not allowed to do it but if you're not good at math, they make
you do it more.
HM: What
kind of primary school did you go to?
BC: It
was a small infant school on the local council estate. A council estate
would be a housing project in the US, I think.
You're English, so you would probably know.
The
Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show
An English council estate
HM:
Laughs.
BC: That
was from when I was 5 till 7; and then from 8 till 10 I went to a junior
school which was a couple of miles away on another set of estates for
kids whose parents were in the Royal Navy.
HM: This
is in Chatham, in Kent?
BC: Yeah. This school was still quite rough but
supposedly a bit more progressive because
we had all ages in each class. After Junior school we had to take
our 11 plus, which determines what type of education you receive
before you leave to get a job. I failed that so went to a secondary
school, which is bottom of the heap. That meant I would work as a
laborer in the Royal Naval Dockyards in one capacity or another and
not go on to further education as I had no qualifications.
Everything in Chatham was to serve the Royal Navy. All the industry
supported the dock yard. I wanted to go to the local art school but
they wouldn’t even look at my work because I had no qualifications.
HM: Didn’t you work as a stonemason's
apprentice at one point?
BC:
Yeah, that was in the dockyard. Only they didn't really have any
masons left anymore, it was all running down and I was put out to
work with the PDSA, I think they were called.
They were a government body that did pubic works. I was put out
working on ancient monuments like Rochester castle and Upnor castle.
I also used to go up to London every few months to study at
Stockwell College of Building.You
see I had to study geometry and other things that I couldn't really
do because I never learned math or writing, owing to me being an
undiagnosed dyslexic. When I was attending the building college I
used to stay in my brother's squat in Chalk Farm. He was studying
at the Slade Art School. He went to a grammar school and was
differently educated from me. It was up town that I got to hear punk
rock music in 1976.
HM: Your brother is older or younger than you?
BC: Older than me.
HM: Why was he differently educated from you?
BC:
Because my father left home when I was about 7. My big brother's 4
years older than me and there is usually a lot more pressure on the
first born to sparkle. Also, he was more obedient than I was and
good at forcing himself to do lessons, and so he passed his 11 plus
and went on to grammar school. I was sort of like dyslexic. Besides,
the family was in free fall by the time I went to school and no one
was interested in me, nobody looked out for me or any of these
things. I was considered a bit of a hopeless case. I was sort of the
runt of the litter. I was the butt of the family jokes.
Billy, Chatham Dockard 1976
Fire
by Billy Childish and the Buff Medways
HM: So then you went to St Martins. Is
that when the music kicked in?
BC: No, it was hearing/seeing punk rock in
76/77. Up until then I was listening to Buddy Holly, early Jimi Hendrix, early Rolling Stones, Bill Hailey and the
Comets and the Andrews Sisters. I wasn't really content with
contemporary music and then I heard some of the punk songs
and I liked those as well – I became modern then.
HM: The Sex Pistols, the Stranglers that kind
of thing?
BC: I never liked the Stranglers much, but
yeah that type of thing. I did like the Clash and the Damned
and some other less known groups and I thought it would be
great to be in such a group. Then I met someone in a local
pub, and in those days you could tell straight away if
someone was into good music just by if they wore straight
trousers. I mentioned to him that me and my friend were
thinking of starting a punk group and this bloke asked me
if I wanted to sing in a group he was starting with his
mates. In the meantime I’d got into St. Martins School of Art on what they
called the ‘genius clause’ – this was if you lacked the
necessary entry qualifications but showed outstanding
talent they’d let you in. Earlier in the year, I’d walked
out of my job in the dockyard but the local authority
wouldn't give me a grant to go to art college in town cause
I was too young, so I was forced to go to the local art
school who I’d already been turned down from when I’d left
school. It’s all to do with whether the authority will give
you a grant to learn to study and where you happen to live.
Especially since I was only 17 and most students went to
grammar school and entered college at 18 or 19.
So anyway, I
ended up going to the local art college and this person I met in the pub, big
Russ, asked me if I would sing in this group, so I did and we called ourselves
the Pop Rivets. I was only asked to sing because I was the only punk rocker in
town. They needed a singer and it suited me because, though I couldn’t sing, I
wasn’t shy of being silly.
HM:
The Sex
Pistols; did they come out in 75 or 76?
BC: I thought
the pistols would be well under way around 76. Sort of like their first 45 was
late 76. They were in the press a bit in the summer of 76 onwards, you heard a
bit about this stuff called punk rock.
HM: Yeah I
remember that, I used to be one. Laughter. At what point did you start playing
an instrument?
BC: Towards the
end of the Pop Rivets I learned to play a little bit of Bo Diddley. That would
be about 1979 then Big Russ showed me how to play Run Chicken Run by Link
Wray and a mate of mine, Micky, who was the roadie with the Pop Rivets,
had a group called the Milkshakes. I sort of learned rock and roll off him. So I
learned to play guitar when I was about 20.
Billy Childish. Crimes
against music blues recordings 1988-99
Sagittarius from Uranographia
(1690)
by Johannes Hevelius
HM: To change the subject a little - we talked a bit
about this the other day - how has being a Sagittarius with Sagittarius moon affected your music? You're also Sagittarius rising, is that correct?
BC: Yeah, I'm Sagittarius with moon in Sagittarius and Jupiter in
Sagittarius, and my rising is in Sagittarius. And the sun, rising
and Jupiter are all conjunct. Which means it’s all amplified quite a
bit I understand.
HM: So how would that impact your music and your creativity?
BC.
I don't know about music. Laughs. It depends on who you believe. The
idea would be that Jupiter is very expansive and it’s in its home
sign and likes it there quite a bit. I think it means that I can
never do enough. It's a bit boundless if you like. So it’s not odd
that I’ve made a hundred albums and - even though I can’t read and
write - made 40 collections of poetry and several novels, and also a
few thousand paintings. I mean I could be a painter or a writer or
musician, it just so happens that I can do all three. I've got that
capacity to do everything at once and a lot of it.
HM: So is it like a drive then; do you feel driven, a boundless kind
of energy?
BC: It’s a boundless energy but also I've got Mars in Scorpio, which
is really good for drive. That's in its home sign too, which is
useful for drive as well as sex and death. Laughter.
HM: Laughs. Really, wow. Laughter.
BC: I wrote a good lyric about death the other day, with my friend
Neal. The song's called The Vermin Poets – it’s also the name of our
little group. Neil’s the singer and guitarist, I play bass and my
wife Julie’s on drums.
HM: What's Neil’s other name?
BC: Palmer. Neil Palmer. He was in a real brilliant group called
the Fire Department in the 90’s. One of the best unknown British
groups ever.
Anyway,
The Vermin Poet lyric is ‘what stalks death in a ruffled cravat?’
the answer is - a vermin poet.
BC: Yeah, that's something to do with Mars in Scorpio – poets
stalking death. What's the other line in that Julie?
What guards God wisdom from a beach combers shack?
Julie: Yeah.
Laughter.
BC: It’s a bit silly but so is life. And of
course poets are vermin. Poets are top vermin, shortly followed
closely by estate agents and dentists.
HM: What about musicians?
BC: I don't think musicians are true vermin, though they’d very much
like to be, they’d like the status of being a poet. Maybe musicians
that want to be poets are ultra vermin. A lot of musicians want to
be poets cause it makes them feel a whole lot better about
themselves. Makes them feel they are artists. Musicians rightly have
a very low opinion about themselves so they like to boost themselves
up a bit by trying
to become vermin.
HM:
By using a poetic kind of language?
BC:
Maybe or by sort of using dodgy rhythms and actually thinking they
have some sort of merit. Like Jim Morrison Laughs
You
see, it's not good enough just to be good at something, or be paid
millions of dollars, they want to be a poet as well. They hope that
pretending to be a poet will work at parties for pulling girls. Or
maybe pulling men, depending. I've met other musicians who want to
portray themselves as outlaws. I think they think that this will add
some sort of credibility to their dull existence.
HM:
They've said that to you?
BC:
Actually I’ve overheard it. I was on a tube train and this musician
was explaining himself to some young lady he’d cornered and said
‘well, really I'm an outlaw.’ I had to stand back so’s I didn't get
puke splashing on my boots. I suppose he was almost a vermin poet.
Loud Laughter.
HM: That's funny. On the subject of celebrities, I know you had some
sort of influence on Kurt Cobain and lots of others.
BC:
I’m not so sure about that. I'm told so but I don't know so.
Maybe it’s an urban myth. Laughs. It shouldn't be
that important. Apparently he had records of mine. I don't know the
ins and outs of these things. I mean somebody asked me if I had ever
met him and I said I'm not sure, there were some longed haired
people shaking their hair on stage at some gig. Could have been
Status Quo, could have been Nirvana. Who knows. Coughs.
HM: What about what he said about you in the Playboy interview and
how many records he has of yours? Think I heard he had dozens
of them.
BC.
I stopped reading Playboy when I was 15. No, I’ve never read that
article or seen it.
Painting by Billy Childish
The milkshakes. Garage
Bands on The Tube 1984, also featuring Tracey Emins first TV appearance
HM: What
do you think of his songs and music?
BC: It’s
not really my cup of tea, I’m a bit old for that type of thing. I
stopped going to gigs after 1977. Luckily, I can say that without Kurt
getting angry - because he’s dead. Though maybe an angry ghost is a
dangerous thing. You see some of these famous people who are fans of
mine get very upset because I'm not interested in music or listening to
them. I mean I lost interest in music after 1977. But when people tell
me that Nirvana were a punk rock group - I've really got to laugh very
loudly. “No” they tell me, ‘it’s true’ and then I was just
flabbergasted. Laughs.
HM:
I mean you had Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious and when you think of how
they were in life and on stage. I mean I don't know how much of it was
contrived or theatrics. It did seem a little bit authentic.
What would you say is the difference between what the Pistols were doing
and what people are doing today, imitating that type of stuff?
BC: It’s
very similar actually because I don't think the Sex Pistols - even
though they embodied an idea of what punk was - were quite contrived
and theatrical themselves. Undoubtedly they were a good rock and roll
group in 1976 - when they had their original bass player, Glen Matlock.
But Sid was very theatrical and staged and quite silly. Maybe that makes
it better, but it’s not my type of thing. In truth I would have thought
that Kurt Cobain was way more serious as a musician and as someone
trying to put something across than Sid Vicious.
I
never had The Sex Pistols or a Nirvana album. The kind of punk rock
I liked was not so manufactured.
HM: So
it was contrived then?
BC:
Well, yeah, obviously. I mean they were a very rock group - the Sex
Pistols; I don't think they sound very good in retrospect. I liked them
quite a bit in 77; but they don't stand up, they are more rock than
punk.
HM: What
about off-stage, mean the way they lived and all that?
BC: I
don't know really. I have no idea. They hanged around with art people. I
think Johnny Rotten married one of the Slits. She's a posh lady, but I
don’t know much about it. I don't know much about the private lives of
the famous. I don't think Kurt Cobain's early life was any less grotty or
difficult. It's just if you like the music or not, I suppose.
Basically, I think the Sex Pistols are quite rock and Nirvana are
very rock. I like homemade music more but that's just personal
taste.
Billy Childish
Billy
Childish & The Buff Medways - Medway Wheelers
HM: What
do you think of Pete Doherty, The Libertines and Baby Shambles?
BC: I've
never heard it, but I've been asked to meet Mister Doherty on a number
of occasions, by his ‘people’. We did play with The Libertines a couple
of times but I think he
was in prison at the time, or in a hospital. It’s not my cup of tea.
People that want the rock star life style don't generally make the best
table companions.
HM:
Yeah, I know he has written lot of poetry when he was younger and
written a lot of poetry before he got into songwriting. I think, and he
got his A levels in that sort of thing.
BC:
Isn't he a sort of, university boy?
HM: Yeah
I think he is, but I do sense there is something authentic about him
as well.
BC:
Yes there is something authentic, I know where you are driving, but
these people are acting out in public. I mean that's what teenagers
are meant to do, but he's probably older than that.
BC: How old?
HM: 20 something - 22 or something.
BC:
Right. Maybe. I doubt he's that young. I remember hearing about
him some time back when I was asked to meet him. He’d already been in
university and these people don't go to university until they leave
school at about 19, so he’s probably 25 or 26,
by now, I presume. I’m just guessing, I've got no idea. All I know
is they tried to get me to meet him a few times because they figured
I could help him out, but I got bored waiting. We were playing and
they wanted me to wait up to meet him but I wanted to go home and go
to bed actually.
Laughter.
It’s
just lost kids without parenting. People scrabbling to find the edge
and society doesn't provide
that very well anymore. So they flail about trying to fill emptiness
by doing things in excess without regard for themselves or others.
It’s as if they are lost souls trying to find themselves. I suppose
that at least they are trying to find themselves, but how they do it
and when it will happen isn't usually very interesting to watch or
get involved in.
I've got no problems speaking to Pete Doherty, or giving him the
benefit of my advice, I'm just not waiting around all night whilst he
takes some drugs. Not when I want to go home to bed.
HM: I mean it must be impossible having to go through that and then
having the whole world watching you on top of it?
BC:
And also being given money. It exacerbates everything. The best
thing to do is grow up
Painting by Billy Childish
Billy Childish
HM:
Right.
BC: The
one thing that people don't mention about this rock and roll thing - I
was speaking to a good friend of mine in Minneapolis and we both
come to the conclusion – that when these old folks in the 1950’s said
rock and roll would undermine the fabric of society, and how everything
was done, they were right. Even though these people seemed very boring
and reactive at the time, what with smashing Be-bop-a-Lula records and
what have you, no one has actually looked at the situation and said they
were right. Laughs.
HM: That
it actually did somehow?
BC:
Yeah.
HM: What
kind of influence has it had overall?
BC:
A highly negative one. The whole baby boomer generation messed up on
drugs. All because of this big over-reaction that they had to the
fathers not being up to much and the turmoil that was created by the
undermining of the world order by the Great War, then the Second
World War. Everyone was too excited at becoming consumers to think
straight. So now people feel really un-glued to the world. They
don't know who they are or where they belong. That's where you get the
Hell's Angels from - sending your kids off to war flying airplanes and
blowing people up and when they come home they can’t stop doing it;
they find it difficult and need a drink and some drugs. They want to
keep a little bit of excitement in they’re lives. In short, you
can’t turn people into killers and then expect them to make model
citizens.
HM: After all that adrenaline pumping and killing people?
BC:
Or whizzing around in fast planes. You known they whiz around on a
fast motorcycle listening to some mindless rock and roll music to
sort of help quiet the devils that are raging inside.
HM: Here's a question about something we talked about the other
day.
Have you made jokes in interviews and said things spontaneously, off
the cuff, and it's been taken out of context and twisted or
misunderstood by the person who you were doing the interview with?
BC:
Usually, yeah.
HM: So how does that happen, is that because they
change the wording in print, or the joke kind of gets lost in
translation somewhere?
BC:
It's very difficult talking to a person who has a different sense of humour; or as is often the case, talking to people who don’t even
have humour. Laughter.
Also, I’m very serious with my jokes. I like to play, but I’m still
serious. That’s a bit complex for an interviewer to get across. And
of course people usually judge each other by their own perceptions,
so if you ask me a question about something that matters to you and
I reply to it in a way that doesn't quite fit in with your
expectation, you might get sulky and feel that I’m attacking your
grandmother. It might mean nothing to me, but the perception is I’m
not quite playing the game. I wrote a song recently called “Bugger
the Buffs” about our old group.
Billy Childish
The Buff Medways
HM: Bugger the what?
BC: Buffs, meaning the Buffs Medways. It’s got lots of silly rhymes
in it making fun of us and the famous who’ve liked us at one time or
another and people have told me that it is a very bitter song.
HM:
Who told you this?
BC: A few people. Not just critics. A Germen told me it was a bitter
song. Another chap said it was very embittered. I said maybe it
sounds that way if you don't have a sense of
humor.
You see, if I say something rude for fun, there’s no anger in it,
but the person who's hearing it, maybe they don't say something rude
about someone unless they want to kill them or are feeling very
bitter, right? So they presume that I feel as they do, when I don’t.
HM:
Yes.
BC:
That's how you can get misinterpreted - because people project their
neurosis onto you.
HM:
Exactly like their meanings and their baggage?
BC
:Yes. Like if I say Joe So-and-So is an arsehole, they report that I
really hate Joe So-and-So, where as I might just think he’s been an
arsehole, period. Or maybe for me calling someone an arsehole is a
term of endearment. Laughs. You can speak the most outrageous thing
as gentle as you like but if they see it written down - as is the case
with interviews and emails - the most harmless little comment can
come across like a punch in the face, sent with all the venom that
the person could muster. Something gets translated through the
journalist's head and onto the written page. You don't get any of the
nuance the person was putting into it. I say ‘he was a bloody idiot’
and I laugh but on the printed page it says “Billy bitterly
attacked Joe so–and-so because Billy is jealous”.
Billy Childish
Woodcut by Billy Childish
HM: And leaves the laughs part out and the intonation out of it?
BC: Yes, and that person might have heard it in
that way as well, because people don't hear the laughter or
anything, because they're
reacting to their own . . .
HM: Uptightness.
BC: When you say a lot of them, I presume you mean humans? Laughs.
HM:
Yeah, a lot of humans. Laughs.
BC: Do remember that journalists are human as well or at least
trying to be.
HM:
I try to keep that in mind but it’s a tough one. Laughs.
HM:
You're a very honest human. Where does that come from?
BC: I'm
not sure. I got told off for trying to do some deceptions when I was a
kid. Like kicking a load of creosote up the chimney breast of my
father’s house then painting it over very badly with white paint and
denying any knowledge of it; but lying didn't seem to work too good. My
father is a serial liar and this somehow ingrained into me that it
wasn't a good idea to lie. I've found lying very uncomfortable. It doesn't
sit very easy with me so I've always tried to be truthful and honest. In
a way, trying is putting too much emphases on it. It's a little bit like
my nature not to lie very easily.
I have
run into problems because I'm like what most people aren't,
they are pretending to be what they're like. So when they meet me they
presume I'm pretending to be what I'm like as well, which I'm not. It then
means that I have to deal with what they think I
am pretending to be like. I am what I am - my rising sign is my sun sign
so I is what I is, and I say things and people think I'm pretending to
mean something else when I'm not, and I don't have to try not to lie - I
just don't.
HM: So
what people basically see or hear is how you is?
BC: What
they see and hear is what they want to see and hear. Laughs. I'm nothing
much to do with it; I'm just something to blame.
HM: Do
you think that because most people have a problem with
being honest and are taught to be deceptive, that it’s very rare that you
come across a straightforward person. That's my experience anyway.
BC:
People feel that they have to be very canny to get their hand in the
sweetie jar. They try way too hard and try to be smart, that’s why
they’re dumb. They get bitten on the arse by their shadow. I just
had this thing happen with a friend of mine, he has been quite
duplicitous with me and it will much to his own loss. Though he may
grow rich. But nobody warms up to that bullshit very much, you run
out of reality. It’s a bit like people who play the national lottery
because they want to win. Everyone wants to win so they already must
believe they’ve lost. Then they think that a little lying in life
won’t hurt. Even if people notice they can get away with it and it
doesn't really matter. They don't take life very seriously.
My fault.
Cover of Billy's first novel
www.billychildish.com
Billy Childish
HM: What, because you think their not thinking about the different
kinds of repercussions?
BC: Yes, they don't understand that life matters a lot and should be
taken very seriously. When I say ‘seriously’ I mean it matters and
realize that it's a hilarious joke at the same time, but life does
matter.
HM:
So when you take that level of honesty into the business world, like
the commercial fine art world or the music world where there is so
much deception going on and a lot of what you see is a facade; what
happens when you start bringing honesty and integrity into this
situation?
BC: Well, you don't bring it into it because it's not allowed. What
happens is that you are excluded. I mean nobody wants anybody
rocking the boat. So you can exist on the margins but you're not going
to be allowed into the center of things. Well, even if you are
allowed into the center of things, you would not want to deal with
the people. So you don't bring light into that darkness, because
part of the code is you have to smash your light if you want in.
HM: The code, yeah
.
BC: Because otherwise, you can't all wriggle around under the carpet
together. You’ve got to be a beetle as well. Laughs
HM:
So light doesn't work with darkness then?
BC: No it's not that light doesn't work with darkness, light is the
only thing that does work with darkness, but not in that club. You
know, it doesn't fit, you can’t, you wouldn't want to be there.
That’s the nature of the beast – that world runs on those terms that
if you want to be there, you've got to play the game and playing the
game is not blowing the whistle.
HM:
Blowing the whistle or?
BC: Or saying to everybody, look do you realize we all are a bunch of wankers! It's like, your at the party and you say to the host ‘do you
realize that you and all your mates are all a bunch of wankers’.
I mean people just turn the music up or kick you out. They'll just
tell you to go home and that's what you do, you go home and paint in
your sad little bedroom and wank. Laughs.
HM: Laughs. So this is a conscious decision you've made? - About
margins, the central insider type stuff.
BC: I’m sorry, can you ask me that again?
HM:
I mean, what is the difference between being on the margins and all
this central activity, in the long run?
BC: I don't think there is much central activity personally. I would
question whether there was central activity.
HM:
Or whether it’s just an illusion of some sort?