Do Me Bad Things

Last week, while eyeing traffic reports in his central London studio, a drivetime DJ spun a new single with an unwieldy title: “Move In Stereo (Liv Ullman On Drums)”. The music was equally unusual: gigantic powerchords merging with squelching synthesizers, saxophones and glockenspiels, while tinkling electric pianos pushed through unexpected chord changes, threatening an imminent 70s jazz-fusion workout. The normally reliable DJ was caught off guard, starting his link with a furrowed brow and a shake of the head. “Er… yes. It’s all gone a bit Gaucho, hasn’t it,” he said, referring to an album by Steely Dan that only about 0.007% of his listeners might have heard of. Do Me Bad Things laugh as they tell the anecdote, delighted at having wound up another small section of the music business.

“I have a naturally antagonistic, juvenile streak,” explains drummer Tommy Shotton, with a glimmer in his eye and a pint in his hand. He formed Do Me Bad Things just over 2 years ago with guitarist Alex Lewis, embarking on a seemingly random recruitment drive that managed to collate nine of the most unconventional looking people in the Croydon area. “When we got together, we didn’t want to tell the band how to dress, but we explained that we wanted to look a bit dark and threatening,” recounts Lewis. “Some band members understood, and turned up to gigs looking really fucked up – tracksuits, make up, fake blood everywhere – and others just showed up in their normal clothes.” This unholy collision of styles was mirrored in the music, fusing Lewis’s obsession with heavy stoner-rock with Shotton’s love of the slick AOR sound of Steely Dan. Their stunning top 40 hit from earlier this year, What’s Hideous, is the perfect archetype; cyclical, riffing verses featuring the muscular, soulful vocals of Chantal Brown, giving way to an almost sickly-sweet chorus, sung in unison by all five singers. “We’d get reactions like ‘That loungey middle bit makes me want to fucking puke’,” laughs Tommy. “But a top 40 single with the word ‘hideous’ in the title – that’s a real achievement.”

Their chart success is thanks to Must Destroy Records, a label famously credited with discovering The Darkness, and which was set up by two former A&R men from Alan McGee’s Poptones label. “One of the guys, Ian, came to the Archway Tavern because his mate was DJing,” recalls Shotton. “We were there, playing probably our third or fourth gig in London in front of about six people. We looked ridiculous – I remember Alex had dressed up as that wrestler Brett ‘Hitman’ Hart – and Ian really hated it, but by the end we’d somehow won him over. So he signed us to a major label – and he’d only come to see the DJ.” The band can scarcely contain their glee and disbelief at being generously entertained on record company expenses and then flown to LA to mix their album; it’s a refreshing change from the arrogant attitude of the majority of wannabe rock-stars, who believe that these perks are simply their rightful reward for coming up with a few tunes. Shotton certainly has no such illusions. “I’d be perfectly happy if the label rang up tomorrow and said ‘We’re sorry, we’ve just seen one of your videos, and someone has made a dreadful mistake’. I mean – what we’ve achieved is amazing. Something to show the grandchildren! They’ll probably hate it, though.”

This charming self-deprecation belies the unusual brilliance of their music. Their debut album, Yes!, is a sprawling melée of blistering distortion, inventive production, gloriously unhinged vocal performances and a few songs well over the 6-minute mark. The Song Rides kicks off with vocalist Nic Prowse singing urgently “Make it shorter for the radio!”; the song ended up all over XFM, and for Shotton it was a pivotal moment. “In the studio we thought it would be funny to start the song like that – and we DID IT. Whereas lot of bands might laugh about, say, putting a kazoo on their record. But then they’d say, ok, let’s get back to work.” It’s an approach that hasn’t endeared them to certain sections of the media. “The hip music press hate us,” says Lewis. “They think we’re fucking around, that we’re contrived. But the matching haircuts and ‘songs for the poor’ that so many bands are doing is far worse. We’re just nine people having a really good laugh – what’s more normal than that?” Shotton agrees. “It’s ridiculous that for modern music to be considered credible or worthy, the band actually has to be seen as suffering.” Lewis, however, has developed horrendous toothache and certainly is suffering; he winds up the interview by going to the gents to attempt to extract the troublesome molar himself. “Our approach might not go hand in hand with selling records,” he says, with a finger in his mouth. “But it’s going to look great on my CV. 2004-2006: fucking around onstage, and getting paid for it.” Sadly, bands with such a gloriously anti-careerist attitude and a willingness to take risks are uncommon. But the few that do should be embraced wholeheartedly. Do Me Bad Things: Do Your Worst.