itm? talks to De Rosa’s Martin Henry about electronica, depression and Scottish identity
At times it’s all too easy to see De Rosa’s Martin Henry as your stereotypical dour Scot. After all, many of the songs on their debut album Mend had a downbeat, maudlin tone, and while new album Prevention sees them branching out into more electronic soundscapes it’s hardly what you’d call an upbeat record. As Martin himself puts it: “Scotland is a great place to be miserable in, especially in Lanarkshire when it rains for a month solidly. It really gives an acute edge to depression.”
While they may not deal in saccharine pop, however, De Rosa still manage to be surprisingly uplifting when it counts. Their new album closes with ‘Tinto’, which expresses the sentiment that “you will find that every man can shift the line that he won’t cross” – but this is by no means simply a meditation on mankind’s weaknesses. As Martin puts it, “‘Tinto’ is all about letting go, climbing the hill and throwing all that stupid selfish misery into the air. Tinto Hill is the highest point in Lanarkshire. Prevention takes you on a journey from the city all the way to this central hub of the rural Scottish landscape – on a clear day you can see both the East and West coasts from the summit.”
When the band’s debut album, Mend, was released in 2006 it met with an enthusiastic reception from the music press, including several ‘Best Of The Year’ mentions and more than a few glowing reviews. At the same time, however, it failed to make much of an impact in terms of retail sales, and it seemed that once again a musical gem had vanished into the jumbled mess of the British music industry.
I can’t help asking Martin whether he was disappointed by this lack of commercial success, but he responds with a resigned shrug. “I had zero expectations in terms of the reception that Mend would receive. I made that record for myself, since it was my sole ambition from the age of about fourteen to record and release an album. So once it was out there I really didn’t care what people made of it – my job was done and I felt proud of myself.”
This surprisingly laidback view of the music industry is typical of the band, and many of their devotees would consider it among their strengths. De Rosa have never been interested in chasing pop trends or indulging in rock star histrionics, preferring to treat their work with a quiet integrity. This comes in part from the fact that they’ve worked together for so long. “Chris [Connick] and I have known each other since we were in primary school in the late 80s,” Martin explains, “and we formed a wee band together at the age of ten or eleven.
“After one rehearsal our band went on hiatus, until we decided to form a proper band during Standard Grade English class in high school. With help from various friends on drums and other instruments we played together until we went to university. To cut a long story short, we both graduated in 2003, named our band De Rosa, rehearsed more and found our drummer Neil [Woodside]. Later Neil’s brother James joined during the recording sessions for our first album, sometime in 2004. Our pianist Andy [Bush] joined us in 2007 after working as our live sound engineer on the tours for the first album.”
This evolving line-up points towards one of the secrets behind De Rosa’s success – their ability to adapt and change as their music moves in new directions, while still remaining the same band at heart. Prevention boasts a remarkably different sound to their debut, throwing out much of the distorted guitar noise in favour of looped samples and electronic rhythms. The difference is profoundly noticeable, although the band’s core still revolves around Martin Henry’s shockingly contemporary folk tunes.
“I think that on Prevention I finally exorcised the demon of alternative rock that had possessed me since my teens,” he tells me, with a hint of pride in the confession. “I think our music is very rooted in the locality of Scotland, and for that to be totally convincing you can’t very well have Thurston Moore-style sonic mayhem all over the place, as much as I have enjoyed making this kind of racket in the past. I think that Prevention has a big sound though, just not one which is dependent on lots of guitar distortion.”
So has this interest in electronica always been there, lurking beneath their music’s distorted exterior? “Yeah, we had all gone through a phase of listening to music which had an electronic aspect to it, from Kate Bush to Aphex Twin, and we definitely used some similar textures on this record. Prevention is still De Rosa though, and although we’re tipping our hats in the direction of these genres of music, these sounds are just one part of a complex sound which incorporated all of our listening at that particular time, and throughout our lives up to that point.”
There’s no mistaking De Rosa’s Scottish heritage, from Martin’s heavily accented vocals to the folksy influence in many of their slower songs. Even a cursory glance at the track names on their two albums reads like an A-Z of Lanarkshire and the Glasgow area. ‘Cathkin Braes’ not only marks the high point on their debut record – it also marks the high point of the Scottish city itself.
“I had just moved to Glasgow when I wrote that song,” Martin tells me, “and I had an awkward relationship with the place. I was fascinated with the city, but yearned for the wee old towns of Lanarkshire. I moved back to the ‘shire’ soon after Mend was finished.
“Alasdair Gray was a huge influence on my writing at that time. His novel Lanark taught me the value in hard work, uninhibited imagination, and the use of your home landscape in the things you create. Our friend Sorcha Dallas, who is Gray’s visual representation, arranged for him to paint our portrait for the cover of the new album. It was an honour to meet the man, and was the only time in my life when I have been truly star struck.”
Mind you, De Rosa have had plenty of opportunities to be star struck. Barry Burns from highly acclaimed indie band Mogwai lends his guitars to one of the tracks on Prevention, and the band were chosen to support John Peel favourites Arab Strap on their Farewell Tour in 2006. I suggest to Martin that this tour felt like a passing of the baton from the old guard to the new, which prompts an uncharacteristic burst of laughter.
“I don’t know if that’s how they felt! I’ve become friends with Malcolm [Middleton] and he has done a great deal to support De Rosa since that tour. Like most Arab Strap fans, I was amazed the first time I heard ‘The First Big Weekend’. It was such a great thing to play that Arab Strap farewell tour, and yes, it was quite sad to watch their final shows.”
The comparison with Arab Strap might not be as frivolous as it appears. Both bands have worked hard to create a genuine sense of Scottish identity in their music – and neither has any urge to pander to the expectations of the music establishment. “‘Under The Stairs’ was written by request for a BBC Christmas compilation in 2006,” Martin admits, “but it was rejected due to the use of the word ‘piss’. The song was shelved and then re-arranged and recorded again for Prevention. It was originally my version of the traditional Christmas novelty pop song, written at a time when I was miserable.” Now there’s a sentiment that Middleton would be proud of.