Cheeky Cheeba & Likely Lads: Supergras Meets The Fratellis

After Britpop self-destructed—leaving great bands in shambles and lesser bands in the cut-out bins—there are very few living memories of those halcyon days. Sure, Oasis continues to produce debatably good records, but Suede called it quits years ago. Blur is in line-up limbo, while Pulp has left us with only Jarvis Cocker’s odd solo career. However, one set of unlikely lads has quietly and confidently endured where others have ended: Supergrass.

Over the course of five albums, Supergrass fruitfully experimented with everything from chipper pop stompers like “Caught by the Fuzz” (I Should Coco) to harmony-laden punk rompers like “Richard III” (In It for the Money) to acoustic ramble jambles such as “St. Petersburg” (Road to Rouen). The band’s sixth and latest album, Diamond Hoo Ha, is rooted in ’70s sleaze and is named after a mythical character that guitarist/vocalist Gaz Coombes says he came upon in a daydream: “He’s from an alternative reality and was inspired by images of a traveling psycho killer and flashes of Midnight Express mixed together.” Evidently for rock stars, inspiration comes in all sorts of places.

With so many top-notch tunes under their collective belt and a new four-star album to their credit 15 years into their career, Gaz Coombes, bassist Mickey Quinn, drummer Danny Goffey and keyboardist Rob Coombes find themselves in the enviable position of being rock royalty for a whole new generation. All those scamps who grew up on Britpop now have hope to recapture its charisma and success. One band that was undoubtedly influenced by Britain’s early ’90s boom is The Fratellis, a straight-up rock and roll three-piece comprised of imaginary brothers: Jon Fratelli (guitars and vocals), Mince Fratelli (drums and vocals) and Barry Fratelli (bass). Their sophomore album, Here We Stand, is rife with swaggering tunes that take cues from the holy trinity of rock fodder—groupies (“Mable”), girlfriends (“Baby Doll”) and the music biz (“Look Out Sunshine”)—and shamelessly borrows a lick or two from the likes of T.Rex, Sweet, Thin Lizzy and yes, maybe even Supergrass.

Filter has orchestrated a first-time conversation between the two frontmen—Gaz Coombes and Jon Fratelli—to talk rock shop about the bands’ odd similarities and discover how they fare when forced to put down the mics and pick up the phone. Aided by Ma Bell, Gaz buzzes in first, rambling about touring the States with the Foo Fighters and clearly jazzed about Diamond Hoo Ha. “We were inspired by all the traveling we’ve been doing in the last few years,” he explains with a polite, down-to-earth English accent. “We went to Beijing, Brazil and Iceland for the first time. The Beijing gig was really strange. The first 10 or 15 rows were made up of officials and army officers. It’s very extreme over there and they had to check out all of our lyrics to see if any of them would incite people to go against the grain. But when we finally got there, we went out and had a great night getting drunk on whiskey and green tea, which is absolutely lethal.”

When Jon joins the call shortly afterwards, there might as well be a few whiskeys and green teas in stock, because conversation begins quickly and the lads take to each other like a pair of old drinking buddies. Evidently, this is what happens when you introduce a couple of guys who think that there’s nothing more to life than rock and roll, and nothing more to rock and roll than writing songs that exude cheeky charm.

How are you gents doing today?

Jon Fratelli: I was going to say “severely hung-over,” but I haven’t been to bed yet so I can’t really claim to be hung-over.

Gaz Coombes: In contrast, I was up half-past seven to take my daughter to school in my old rickety motor car from 1972.

Supergrass and The Fratellis are bands that actually have more in common than one might think. The first—and rather unfortunate—similarity is the fact that both of your bands have members who have broken their backs…

Fratelli: Mince broke his back in a car accident not long before we got signed. It was tough because we were just starting to get really excited about this band. I remember Live 8 was on and I was watching it; just wanting to be one of those bands. We were told that he’d be out a year before he’d be able to drum again. But four weeks after he broke it, he was back on the kit…

Coombes: Fucking hell, that’s mad.

Fratelli: It was almost a miracle, you know? He’s still got pins and plates in him.

Coombes: Mick, our bass player, was on holiday in France and fell out of a window when he was sleepwalking—bloody nut. It was weird timing for us because we had just finished Diamond Hoo Ha, so we were all set for touring. We were all desperate to get on the road and then this happened and it was kind of like, “Oh, shit.” But luckily, it gave me and Danny a chance to do the Diamond Hoo Ha Men as a sort of side project, which was quite entertaining…so good things came from it.

Speaking of the Diamond Hoo Ha Men, that brings up another similarity between your two bands in the sense that both of you have taken on alternate personalities…

Fratelli: When our band all met each other, we only knew each other’s first names. So, we all put each other in our phones as “Fratelli.” It was never meant to be that big of a deal. It’s funny how some things just kind of grow arms and legs. That was one of those things that became more than we ever imagined it would.

Coombes: I remember that when we came up with the name “Supergrass,” it was really quick. We all knew straightaway that we could imagine seeing it on massive posters and it would look good. But The Diamond Hoo Ha Men was something that came about because of Mick not being able to play and was just something Danny and I did to have some fun on the road.

Both of you guys have worked with Tony Hoffer—The Fratellis on Costello Music and Supergrass on Life on Other Planets. What were your experiences with him?

Coombes: At the start of any record, you have those kinds of discussions, and for us it was, “Should we do this one on our own or not?” Then, you come to a record where you want to take a step back and concentrate on the performances or your own dynamic in the band. Tony Hoffer’s name came up and since he’d worked with Beck, we thought it would be interesting. In some areas it worked; and in other places, I don’t know if we quite clicked at times. But in general, he was a really great guy to be around and a really funny dancer. His breakdancing and robo-dancing just melted all of us and we fell in love with him [laughs].

Fratelli: One of my favorite Beck albums is Mutations. I fucking love that record and Tony had worked on that, so it was a really easy choice. In the first week doing pre-production, he and I had some arguments. It was a week’s worth of arguments. He kept telling me, “There’s no fucking record, Jon!” and I’d yell back, “Why are we here if we don’t have a record?” He’d tell me, “It’s just songs.” It seems like a really abstract way to look at it, but he was kind of right. I have a hell of a lot of respect for him, though I’ve fallen out with him recently—but that’s a whole fuckin’ other story.

What were you going for this time around? Both Supergrass’ Diamond Hoo Ha and The Fratellis’ Here We Stand sound like bands that want to explore new territory and try new things.

Fratelli: I definitely wanted to right some of the wrongs from the first album because the minute we finished Costello Music, I just wasn’t happy with some things. When we made that album, we hadn’t toured at all. We’d done gigs in London, but we hadn’t actually done shows on tour. At the end of 18 months of touring, I was really conscious of making sure that the second album was exactly the fucking album that we wanted, which is why we didn’t use a producer. It’s definitely more akin to the live band that we have become. It’s heavier and thicker.

Coombes: We met up with producer Nick Launay quite early on and he picked out the songs that hit him head-on—in the face, really—because he wanted to make a record that captured Supergrass live. He mentioned all the times that he’d seen us play, and he wanted that sort of energy on the record. I think he got that out of us really well. It’s definitely a big departure from our last album, Road to Rouen. Ultimately, we are really happy with Diamond Hoo Ha.

Talk about your incorporation of sly, sardonic wit into your music. Is that something you go for or does it just come out on its own?

Fratelli: For me, it was definitely a way of standing out from other bands. Lyrically, it seems like most of them were dealing with the town that they came from and I was always bored with that sort of thing. You want to stand out; you don’t want to feel like you’re just part of the crowd.

Coombes: For us, it’s the same sort of thing. The people that we have been inspired by over the years all bring that element of humor to the music. It’s really hard to explain why sometimes, and I think what you’re saying is right, Jon—you react against what starts to annoy you in music. I think the best way to respond is to write lyrics with sarcasm or surreal humor. You look around and you see pock-faced bands with tortured lyrics. Sometimes it’s a beautiful thing, but other times, it grates.

This is sort of putting you on the spot, but how familiar are you with each other’s music?

Coombes: I’m very familiar. I like it a lot, man.

Fratelli: It’s funny, because I was watching one of those Behind the Music shows on you guys and it was funny to see the similarities. There aren’t too many three-piece bands around. We became a three-piece by default, but you always look around to the other three-pieces to take inspiration from. I remember listening to your second record, In It for the Money. I loved it and played it quite a lot, actually.

Coombes: Oh, wicked. Well that’s very kind of you, sir. F