Sometimes when I read articles in the music press, there seems to be a concerted effort to decontextualise the music. The other day I read the lead article in a London-based magazine, and the whole thing was based around this one, tortuously dragged out analogy. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, but when the actual content of a critique is little more than ‘what does it feel like to be successful?’ or, to paraphrase Lou Reed, ‘how does it feel to be cool?’, and the main hook and interest of the piece is centred around dragging this analogy to its conclusion, then you have to wonder at which point the critique itself - the attempt to understand where some particular music came from (what makes it popular and why) got lost along the way.
What makes DIY music so interesting is that it’s all about the context – people taking the time to put energy into making their own records and organising their own tours. I first met Rozi when she was on one such tour – one of many for her – playing as part of Francois Marry’s band, in support of Adrian Orange. Since then she’s established herself as that rarest of things in Britain: a female songwriter with an interesting, innovative approach, who makes genuine, unmannered music. Her songs are of the same dreamy ilk as much of that to have come out of Bristol’s prolific lo-fi/DIY scene, sharing the beautifully pared-down simplicity of Francois or Sleeping States, whilst at the same time retaining a refreshing sense of innocence. Above all I’d say it’s honest and real; qualities not to be sniffed at, but rather cherished. Indeed, it can be easy to lose touch with the real world when describing, or making, music.
How did you get started – where did you come from and how did you end up moving to Bristol?
I grew up in Winchester and I moved to Bristol in 2004 to do a foundation course at the art college there. Lots of people from Winchester moved to Bristol so it seemed like a sensible place to go.
Is that close to Bristol?
It’s by Southampton so it’s a couple of hours on the train. This Is The Kit – a good fried of mine – she moved to Bristol; Rachel Dadd did too. It seemed like a good place to go…so I went there!
How did you begin writing songs?
I started playing the guitar when I was about twelve, because my friends and my brother did – he taught me my first chords on the guitar.
Was it Nevermind, stuff like that?
‘Fake Plastic Trees’! My brother used to run an open mic night in Winchester so I’d play there sometimes. I wrote some silly angsty songs, on a four track. But it was only when I got to Bristol that I felt like I meant it, that there was something I could do with it.
What about Bristol made you feel like that?
I met Francois and I played loads with him, which was really helpful. It just made me feel so much less nervous, because I played with him so many times, ‘cos he played all the time. I’d play in his band.
How did you meet Francois?
I met him…on a street corner! He was gonna go to some party and it had just been closed down by the police, and we were gonna go there as well. I just met him a little bit here and there, at the Cube.
He had a big effect on you then?
Yeah, completely, completely. He recorded stuff all the time, so many evenings just recording stuff on his four track, and then I started doing that more. Recording is a really helpful process, I think, it just makes you feel like you’ve got loads done. I found him really inspiring, all the instrumentation he used and all the things he found to play with. And the way he played was really relaxed – sometimes his band would be ten people, and sometimes it would just be him, or him and me. It wouldn’t be a big stress. Bristol’s a really good place – there’s a lot of people there who can play with you.
Did you release stuff in Bristol?
My brother – Romanhead – started Cleaner Records. We were all working as cleaners in some way. Sam was a pot-wash in Pizza Express and I was cleaning a guitar shop. When we moved to Bristol we made CD-Rs and wrote ‘Cleaner Records’ on them. It wasn’t a ‘label’ as such, just a thing we could call ourselves to give it a bit of…something. Francois was on Stitch-Stitch. Me and Francois made this DVD for them.
So how did you meet the Fence Collective?
Well my brother listened to a lot of their things, and I listened to a lot of that because of him. And then once King Creosote was playing in Bristol and we each gave him a CD. They released Sam on a CD-R release. And then I went up to play the Homegame Festival – this little festival they have in Scotland. And then…one thing led to another!
Was the album more a collection of songs you already had, or more of a purpose written album?
A lot of it is older stuff. It took a while to do, and I did a first version of it, and then ended up changing masses of it, and then instead of redoing those songs – I was a bit bored of them – I did a lot of newer songs.
What was the recording process like?
I went to Scotland to do some of it, with Francois and Rachel. We recorded it with Gordon Anderson, who’s King Creosote’s brother – he’s The Lone Pigeon. And with the frontman of The Aliens. He was living on this farm in Fife – we recorded about five songs there.
What’s that place like?
It was really lovely! He was really great. He’s quite a short guy; he ate a giant redwood seed every day because he thought it might make him grow taller. He had an amazing collection of parmesan rind, the dotted rind you get at the end of parmesan. Yeah – he loved parmesan.
We recorded one song in Kenny’s – King Creosote – roof, in the attic. And then the rest in Bristol at my brother’s house. We did all the drums in his bathroom, and mixed and mastered it there.
Were you looking for any particular sound?
Are there any definite themes running through the album?
To be honest I’m never really sure what I write songs about; it always happens in five minutes. I write a lot of short songs – I feel like it’s never really right to go back to it. I remember being in school doing pictures in an art lesson, and then sometimes months later coming back to add more bits. It just feels really wrong - when I wrote I song I was feeling a specific thing. I don’t really know if people want stories in a song, but I don’t really have stories. It’s nice people asking you, ‘is that about them?’ My mum is always like [puts on mumsy voice], ‘is that one about…you having a band practise!’
Are there any similarities between the scenes in Bristol and Fife?
I guess they’re both really leading their scenes. When we played End of The Road Festival we got a lift with this lady, and she was like, ‘oh yes, I’ve heard there’s a really good music scene in Fife’. And Johnny’s like, ‘that’s me’. It’s amazing that it’s a tiny fishing village and they’re all in it. There’s a lot of people in Fence helping each other out, and it’s similar in Bristol – everyone joining in.
What is it about Bristol that’s helped it build this scene?
I think a lot of it is people moving there because of it, which really helps to keep it going. If it wasn’t a known fact that Bristol’s got a really good music scene, then people wouldn’t keep coming and doing new things. It has an outside energy. It’s a good size and it’s by water, which makes everyone feel nice. And it doesn’t feel too taken over by the city centre or the shopping centre. It’s accessible, so people see each other all the time.
Is it a consciously DIY scene?
No, it’s one of those things where it’s only when people describe it back to you that you realise what it is. I think it’s hard work to be DIY and organise your tours all the time. It’s funny how when you meet other people who do the same DIY tours, they know about the same promoters in other cities. So in a way, it’s like, if everyone’s still up for doing it, then it’s quite easy. But when it becomes a pain in the arse to be DIY, then it’s not worth doing.
I kind of feel like things like tour managers happen if you don’t go out and look for them. It’s often not a thing you can consciously do. I feel like you can’t say, ‘I’m not going to be DIY anymore’, because you’re only not if someone offers you something else. It depends on how much energy you have to keep doing it.
What do you think the difference is between the DIY scenes in the US and the UK?
I guess a big difference is how huge America is – if you’re going to go on tour there you’re not going to go home for quite a long time. Whereas most places in England you almost could go home almost every night. Like, Viking Moses is on tour constantly, constantly.
It depends what you crave, what you want. At the moment I don’t feel that attached to any place; but I think also that it’s very easy to slip into that and to be dependent on feeling not attached to a place. There is a middle ground but it depends on what you want out of things.
What are your plans for the future – for after this record?
I’d really like to record another album. I’d like…to just be available for stuff! But I think it’s great to have a base. Especially when you’re doing DIY tours, you can forget how good it feels to have your own personal space, to invite people to your house.
Rozi's debut album Inside. Over Here. is out now on Fence Records.
