Biography

There must have been easier ways...

Right through the '80s and, indeed, the caring, sharing early '90s, you'd have achieved more credibility as a Tibetan monk playing polo than you would have by declaring a passing interest in anything remotely associated with... ahem... fo*k music.

Oysterband, bless 'em, had little choice in the matter. They were influenced by all manner of music, culture and style. Listened to anything and everything. But running through the entire soul of the band was a heartbeat rooted deeply in the traditional music of Britain.

Not the self-conscious tradition of twee choruses and dodgy ideologies that inspired a million cliches and jaundiced the very country persons it was originally conceived to represent; but a tradition built on integrity, passion, and human emotion. Songs that made you want to dance/laugh/cry/jump for joy/kick a few heads in. Hey, that could be folk music, it could be rock music... maybe it's just GOOD music. Whatever, it has helped the Oysters become one of the most irresistible bands of the last decade. And (almost) the one before that too.

They originally collided in and around Canterbury University - as motley an assortment of like minded souls that ever trod the boards. lan Telfer, the wry Scotsman with the clipped tones playing fiddle as if his life depended on it. Alan Prosser, all shaggy hair and gentle of manner, weaving magic with his guitar even way back when. And that man with the melodeon, the extraordinarily charismatic John Jones, cult hero and vocal hurricane.

Aided and abetted by the powerhouse rhythm section of lan Kearey on bass and Russell Lax on drums, they tackled the horrors of Thatcherite Britain with a rare old vengeance in the mid-'80s. The rock end of Thatcherite Britain, flailing distressingly in a laughable sea of new romance, postpunk apathy and pop pap, didn't quite know where to put itself when faced with this sudden onslaught. All notions of folk-rock - whatever that was - had long since withered and died and the Oysters, angry and loud yet still eminently tuneful, were way out on a limb. Step Outside, released by Cooking Vinyl in '86, was born to shock and amaze on several levels. Their explosive treatment of the traditional standard Hal-an-Tow was a keynote track, a startlingly venomous statement of intent for a brave new dawn that clearly involved grabbing folk song by the scruff of its neck and furiously plunging it into the firmament of contemporary rock. This, alongside some impressively vitriolic social commentaries from their own pens, got up quite a few noses and palpably dented the irksome veneer of sweetness and light which was strangling pop and rock at the time. There was, we were left in no doubt, fire in them Oyster boys' bellies.

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It's a fire that appears to have been further inflamed at every turn since as they've steadfastly followed their own instincts, ebulliently disregarding nonsensical irrelevancies such as image, imaginary musical boundaries and media expectations. Their own writing took a quantum leap on 1987's Wild Blue Yonder, a magnificent album that included their classic, if seriously strange Oxford Girl, featured an electrifying cover of Billy Bragg's Between The Wars; had a guest appearance from Kathryn Tickell on Northumbrian pipes; and was produced by Clive Gregson. No going back now as founder member lan Kearey left to be replaced on bass (and occasional cello) by the inimitable Chopper, who came to play a defining role on their next album Ride... and indeed their sound ever since. Ride - including an extraordinary version of New Order's Love Vigilantes - left us in no doubt of the band's unconditional commitment to their own identity and to hell with the consequences.

A live album, Little Rock To Leipzig, served as a proud epitaph to their remarkable journey through the '80s; while they entered the new decade veering off at an unexpected tangent, collaborating with the high priestess of English folk song, June Tabor, on their most successful album ever, Freedom And Rain. They toured with Tabor too - a tense, fascinating amalgam between two highly independent and sharply contrasting spirits and styles which merged into an uneasy dream ticket for English music. It was a refreshing diversion, but one that ultimately distracted the Oysters from the sense of purpose that had driven them for so long... and confused their followers.

Deserters in 1992 saw that sense of purpose dramatically re-emerge with startling intensity, new drummer Lee joining to complete the current line-up and provide a harder edge still to a darker style of songwriting emerging in the band. The contrast between Deserters and the relatively jaunty Freedom And Rain again confounded the critics.

But by this time the goalposts had shifted again. Bands like The Levellers had been building a fervent following with an alternative indie approach that embraced many of the values pioneered by the Oysters. There was also an unexpected upsurge of young musicians taking their own inspiration from folk song and traditional instrumentation and with their spectacular '93 album Holy Bandits striking a glorious balance between their own traditions and a very modern kind of rock, the Oysters suddenly found themselves talked of as godfathers of a new English style of roots rock. After years being regarded by the music industry on a par with inter-planetary aliens, it came as an acute shock to them to discover they were now leaders of a movement.

If anybody imagined this revelation would mellow the band they were wrong. After a Greatest Hits album (Trawler) on which they rather novelly decided to re-record most of the old tracks to enable Chopper and Lee to put their own stamp on them, they emerged in '95 with The Shouting End Of Life, probably the most aggressive and political album of their career. It was an album of acute extremities, blazing with passion and naked aggression, from the trailblazing title track to their raging treatment of Leon Rosselson's socialist national anthem The World Turned Upside Down.

In ‘97 any foolish turnip heads who imagined they may be getting old and jaundiced were forced to sink to their knees pleading for forgiveness as they teamed again with producer man Alan Scott for Deep Dark Ocean. It came with a smile on its face, upbeat and lightheaded and, revealing an unexpected talent for quirky pop music, widely seen as a triumphal riposte to the departing Tories ("Yes, we voted Labour but we didn’t inhale"). Many people have declared Deep Dark Ocean the Oysters’ best ever album...but then they say that every time they come out with a new one. And you can bet your very last polo mint they will certainly be saying it about Here I Stand, co-produced with Alaric Neville, released during the early stirrings of the last summer of the 20th Century, marking another landmark with the formation of their own label Running Man.

And if you think that means a quaint cottage industry forcing them to flog albums in plain wrappers out the back of a van, you’ll be wrong, wrong, WRONG! Far from limiting them, Running Man seems to have triggered yet more demonic bursts of energy, subtly seductive melodies and millennium tension lyrics ("It’s a brand new game, it’s Globalisation/from Megamoney Corporation" - get the picture?) Has John Jones ever sung better?!? (they’ll be having GCSE questions on that one soon.) And how DOES Lee get that drum sound? We are indeed among gods!

There’s also a positive ORGY of impossibly alluring choruses and beauteous melodies, with famed guest artists queuing up to take their place alongside our lovable croptops... Chumbawamba, Great Big Sea, Steáfán Hannigan, Rowan Godel, Yulia Kuszta, Gino Lupari, Wild Slim Mustapha. An album of our times for all times.

"In my time we’ve drunk away a century/in my time we’ve tried to walk it honestly," sings Young Master Jones on I Know It’s Mine, track 8 on Here I Stand. Who’s getting the first round in for the next century then?

For more information on Oysterband please contact: - Email: info@concertclinic.com