MUSIC: James - Friends reunited

Apr 4 2008 by Emma Pinch, Liverpool Daily Post

AFTER picking the blandest band name they could think of, James toiled away in the pop wilderness for more than a decade honing their distinctive sound before success came.

When they finally pierced public consciousness in 1991 with their torch song Sit Down they were denied the top spot for four weeks by one hit wonder Chesney Hawkes.

Not that the chart position mattered. Along with Born Slippy a few years later it tapped into the zeitgeist and was picked up as one of those beery vaguely desperate 90s anthems.

The song was written to remind anyone who has been buffeted by life that they’re not alone, was created in 20 minutes. "Bang, it was there, fully formed," says bassist and longest serving member Jim Glennie. "We knew we had something special and immediate. It was played, people loved it and it took on a life of it’s own."

Perhaps it emerged so fully formed because, by the time they wrote it in the late 80s, they’d already been buffeted a fair amount themselves on their journey to it.

Glennie went from the regular arrests on the mean streets of Moss Side to a religious cult, and went from being the next best thing with Factory to being so skint they were paid to test flu drugs in medical experiments.

The band formed in 1981 in Whalley Range, Manchester when Paul Gilbertson convinced best friend Glennie to buy a bass guitar and form a band with him. They practiced in the latter’s bedroom with Gavan Whelan on drums, whose frenetic drum sound became a trademark. Drama student Tim Booth was recruited when they met at a student disco.

When the band was signed to iconic Manchester label Factory Records and filled gigs, they promisingly becoming known as the city’s "best kept secret". But then they mistrusted Factory, believing them to rate style over substance, and disastrously signed to another label, Sire. "We thought they were the baddies, which of course they weren’t, they were sweethearts," says Jim. Radio 1 wouldn’t play them, even when they filled the G-Mex twice, the momentum disappeared and they ground to a halt. "We couldn’t see a way forward," remembers Jim.

During that dark period he turned to religion for solace.

"I went to the Buddhists to learn to meditate. I was blended into this sect called Life Aware.

He meditated for three hours a day and six at the weekend; his biggest stretch was three 18 hour days.

"It was just really about self sacrifice and lots of meditation based," he says. "It was no meat, no alcohol, and lots of brown rice and local produce. They discouraged going to bars and clubs. It meant that for a while they were pigeon holed as organic carrot chomping Buddhists in the music press. "It was quite insular and the food was really, really boring but it got me clean and gave me a healthy lifestyle."

Religion came "as the natural progression" from all the recreational drugs he took, which he says, calmed him down.

"Between 18 and 22 I was a very different person," he recalls. "I was a messed up, unpleasant youth from Moss Side. I used to fight a lot and as I got older got more unpleasant. I was brought up in Moss Side for God’s sake. I was just angry."

He’s embarrassed to go into particulars. "I’d get arrested!" he says, only half joking. "I used to be so ashamed of what I used to get up to. Friends were involved in knife crime and were quite violent. "We didn’t get involved in guns, they weren’t easily available. The idea of that person absolutely terrifies me now.

"So many of my friends are in prison and I would probably have been banged up too."

For his teenage son Jake it’s been different. Aged 19 he’s one of a new student generation discovering James.