Interview: John McGeoch, Alan Dias, and Mike Joyce, PiL

Mark Liddell talks That What Is Not to guitarist John McGeoch, bassist Alan Dias, and drummer Mike Joyce about their involvement in PiL and also gets an insight into the working relationship they have with their explosive master John Lydon.

ON THE PiL

Interviewing PiL, the brainchild of ex-Sex Pistol Johnny Rotten (a la Lydon), without the presence of punk's most enduring and riveting character, might be viewed, metaphorically speaking, as a little bit like coming up against a bull without its horns. Sure, the opportunity of locking horns with Lydon's anarchic, darkly humorous spirit is an experience I would have perversely relished, but to cut a long story short... 'twas not to be.

Instead, I found myself back inside the familiar surroundings of Lancaster Gate's Columbia Hotel, with the three other musical components that make up PUBLIC IMAGE LIMITED.

By the time you cast your eyes over this, PiL's 12th album (including their Greatest Hits - So Far and Live in Tokyo) That What Is Not will have been on the racks for a month or two. Initial UK sales aren't exactly...er... promising. More's the pity because this is explosive, eclectic, and majestic rock, with Lydon's wildly oscillating vocals, ranging from mock opera through to his inimitable screech, better than ever.

I'm greeted by a man with a shock of tousled, flame-coloured hair. He's wearing John Lennon style shades, is a little pudgy, and seems very relaxed. His voice has a pleasantly familiar soft Scots brogue. Guitarist John McGeoch of PiL is a man with a highly influential and distinguished career behind him. His innovative guitar style with MAGAZINE has been acknowledged as an influence by none other than the Edge of U2. McGeoch also spent a few years with SIOUXSEE AND THE BANSHEES before eventually joining PiL, where he's very much at the centre of their current sound.

However, with regard to immersing himself in the press/ publicity interview game, he has mainly stayed in the background, in sharp contrast with his (in)famous colleague. Is McGeoch content to let Johnny do the talking?

"We very much sort of share the burden of interviews, although John is the front person of the band... it's his gig. It's like I'm just a guitar player," he replies flippantly. "In the band I like to think of myself as an arranger and almost a musical director."

I ask him about his working relationship with Lydon, and also how I see the guitarists roll within a band, as interpreting the mood of the songs.

"Stop leading me," McGeoch gently scolds me. "No, it's quite simple. It works in certain different, but well mapped out, routes. Basically, I'll say to John, 'here's 10 songs which I've written for you, with you in mind.' And he'll go, 'I hate eight of them but there's two of them that I've got an idea for.' We'll then go through the idea and narrow it down. In fact, two out of 10 is a good score," he laughs. "I tend to write prolifically, if nothing else, so it's just a question of wheat and chaff."

Enter one dapper-looking, Black American sporting impressive looking shades. Bassist Allan Dias makes himself comfortable.

"I've been wining and dining," he says, grinning.

Dias strikes me as PiL's Mr Nice Guy.

One irritant that seems to constantly itch, with PiL, or more specifically with Mr Lydon, is the fixation that people in this country have about the SEX PISTOLS. The spectre hovering over the catalysts of the punk explosion will never quite fade away. However, in the States it's a different story according to McGeoch.

"Most of our audience in America have never even heard of the Sex Pistols. I would put my money on it that 75% of them never have. They're PiL fans," he stresses, "and there are a lot of them. We sell a lot of records in America and that's why we do most of our work over there. They don't see John as the guy that used to be a singer in a band and who made one album and did nine gigs fifteen years ago!"

In Britain, these days, Lydon seems to be caricatured as some sort of cantankerous, old eccentric, or, worse, a cabaret turn. People have even complained to me that he's not dangerous anymore. So, what's a man in his 30s supposed to do? Incite a riot amongst poll tax protesters? Beat up Terry Wogan on live TV? Bite off a baby's head? Moreover, name me one band today that have truly and conclusively really upset the status quo (no, not the bloody group...dimwit!) and sparked off a radical movement?! However, the prickly old punk is still fuelled by a genuine anger and a sharp intelligence, which is more than can be said for a lot of our...um...musical icons today. 

Looking through Lyden's lyrics on the current record and/ or reading and listening to recent interviews he's given, it's evident that he's still savagely knocking the monied establishment and the sacred cows of our society. There's also an almost puritanical streak running through his psychological makeup. Would the boys go along with that?

"He does have, yeah," agrees McGeoch, although he doesn't seem entirely comfortable with the term 'puritanical.' I redefine my description -- a strong moralistic tone...

"Moralistic is the thing. I don't think he is particularly dogmatic. Not like a soapbox, Bible-bashing person. It's too easy to take him like that. But he does have that kind of conviction about some of his stuff. I mean he's really very strongly defensive of his lyrics, of what he's talking about in his lyrics. He'll rant and rave all day because he believes in it. But he's also got this pop sense as well," he expands. "In terms of 'I've got my songwriter hat on again.' It isn't just like a tirade. The songs need choruses and he understands the medium we're working in is pop music, basically, or folk music if you think about it."

Sticking with the moralistic theme, I mention "Luck's Up" from the record. It's a monstrous tune, driven by McGeoch's guitar pyrotechnics, in which Lydon lays to waste the drug culture mentality. Bearing in mind his outspoken and contemptuous comments in the press, with regard to what he feels is the druggy, mindless apathy of the 1000 BPM techno/ dance scene in this country, I ask if they think along similar lines to their singer.

"No we've liked a lot of that stuff," replies McGeoch. "What John's talking about is the sort of ranking that goes on with people just telling the world how great they are. I find that tyre soon."

Enter new drummer, Mike Joyce (who's replaced Curt Bisquera who appeared on the album) formerly of THE SMITHS, SINEAD O'CONNOR, JULIAN COPE, and the reformed BUZZCOCKS and a straight-talking, no-nonsense Mancunian. He throws in his tuppence worth.

"There's mindlessness in every kind of style of music. With the techno thing I think it's because there's no real characters or no real stars that people can focus on. It's very faceless. I always liked the idea of what people have got to say about music, but in interviews it seems like it's 'go out and get shit-faced and kind of blow your brains out on the dance floor.'"

I quote them a line from the song that's prompted all this discussion: "Un-fucking-lucky you, boo hoo, good riddance to bad rubbish." Johnny's less than sympathetic message to a junkie, perhaps?



McGeoch:

"Yeah, in the past, John's been very disappointed by people."

Personal experience?

"Yeah, people around him have let him down or got involved in stuff. I guess it goes right back to Sid (Vicious), although it's not my place to comment. But he's always been very kind of angry."

Allan:

"It's about someone, like a sad, sad junkie, who becomes dependent and let's the side down. That's the aspect he's focusing on."

McGeoch again:

"If you like, you can look on the band as like a mini society. John's songs are intended generally, it's not like this song is saying nobody in the band take drugs. He's really trying to say it's an anti-drug message to people who listen to the record."

That What Is Not operates within a rock format and has a cutting metallic (not metal) edge. One would never mistake it for plodding generic rock metal. Well, I wouldn't! What do the band have to say?

"It borrows from metal," explains McGeoch. "I thought it was great when I was able to throw off the shackles of being a postmodern whatever it is...guitarist, and I was able to get into using a whammy bar and throw in a few shapes. I really enjoy my playing these days. Questions of style don't burden me. The thing was, when I joined PiL, Lydon had just done an album using STEVE VAI. Trying to pick up Vaa's guitar style to cover the songs was great fun, and I had the pleasure of Steve Vai coming up to me, saying 'well done, you done it well.' There is a great expression that song-writing is an experiment where you try to be uniquely derivative of all your influences."

It's a subconscious thing a lot of the time...

"Sometimes it's conscious as well. You cross-refer all the time - it's a short cut."

McGeoch also cites METALLICA as a specific influence.

"It still sounds like PiL though," he affirms.

Moreover, PiL's musical palette has always been broad-based. Just one example is McGeoch's Arabesque guitar stylings. Whilst Lydon "listens to a lot of ethnic music," according to the Scot.

"I hate to use the term, it's become so cliched, but World Music isn't a bad description in terms of the way we approach things."

"That comes through as an outsider, when I listen to it," enthuses Joyce. "It's got every kind of influence in there. It's like a big boiling pot, that's why I find it so exciting."

I interrupt and ask them what song pleased them the most. "Acid Drops" tops the list, and it kind of links up with Lydon's past. Sampled on to the end of this raging piece of music is that immortal line, "No fu-cha, no fu-cha!" It creates a sinister, chilling effect, and in the wake of lyrics like "the zealots are marching, Bibles in hand, desperate Susan's and desperate dans," there's this distinctive feeling he's trying to tell us something...

Even the album cover ties in with the song.

"It relates to the lyric in 'Acid Drops' that things aren't what they seem (he quotes some lyrics). 'What shouldn't be heard what shouldn't be seen.'"

Incidentally the cover shot looks initially like a tongue with hair on it. Or is it? Dias proceeds to place a copy of the album between his legs and grins. Get the picture!

One of the major problems with interviews is that usually an artiste or band have just finished recording their...er... masterpieces. Consequently those deeply involved in the process have a lack of perspective on the finished work. Not so, at least, this time round, with PiL. Recording finished last September. 

"We've had time to digest the record," says McGeoch, "and looked back on it. I've always wished I'd done more or less. If you're ever pleased, it's either the best thing in the world or you're fooling yourself, and I'm not fooling myself, but I'm really proud of it. This album is probably the closest thing to the Sex Pistols that John's sung on."

Who am I to argue with that?

Mark Liddell
Riff Raff
May, 1992

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