Meeting Sam Jordan for a beer was like meeting an old friend after years of not seeing them. He is a man who’s youthful charisma and unique ability to follow his nose has lead him all around the country; it has taken him to London and back studying at an esteemed dance college, it has taken him busking to the far ends of Northumbria and working on building sites. Now, with the upcoming release of his highly anticipated debut EP, When Golden Morning Comes, he is ready to grasp the music world by the scruff of its neck and earn his stripes with his true passion.
With a deep rooted love for folk music and exploring the desolation and paradise of mankind through his lyrical content and the hands-on approach that he expresses in his work, he is set to explore the south coast pub scene in the near future. This will act as the base point to his career as a musician before he takes off to bigger and better things. He is ready to prove to people that they need to listen to him not just with the etiquette of listening out of politeness, not wanting to be too acquainted with leg ups, he is a man that runs on the underdog story. Here’s his story so far:
I read that prior to your work as a musician you pursued a dancing career, do you feel that bleeds into your music?
Yes it does – I wouldn’t call it a career as such but I studied at a college in Deptford called Laban. It’s where the weirdos of European dance meet. It was an honour to get in but I felt like a large dog who thinks he’s a cat when I was studying there, but the practical experience on stage and the philosophy of movement is something I value now. While I was there I met one of my best friends, I knew I liked him when in our first ballet lesson we were told to say “one thing good about ourselves and one thing we needed to improve on.” People were listing the same boring things about their ballet technique. My new friend said; “The good thing about me is I am very beautiful, the thing I need to improve on is that I am very evil” – I convinced him to be my friend after a few terms and he introduced me to Dylan.
Did you find the transition from dance to music a smooth transition?
It was devastating to realise I was a dog not a cat! I was doing building work in Brighton whilst still going to dance classes on occasion before I decided to quit my job and go hitchhiking with my guitar. Me and my friend made it to Edinburgh and back busking and camping. That was the start for me.
How long were you doing that for?
So I was busking full time for a year or so as a job, I was away for many weeks at a time and these adventures affirmed my belief in humanity and made me uncomfortable enough to write some songs. I believed in people and my normal world felt tame after standing there on the road with my thumb out with a sign saying ‘North’.
Did you meet many standout characters on your journey then?
Yeah for sure, there’s a few stories. The first of which was in Stratford-upon-Avon, we wanted to see the home of the ‘Godfather of Tragedy’ – Shakespeare’s birthplace. We were looking for somewhere to camp in the dark along the riverside. A man came steaming towards us in the pitch black in a black leather jacket, we could smell him coming and we were terrified. When he stopped, he was just as scared as we were, he thought we were the police – turns out he’d been nicking diesel from the food festival near the water. He pointed us in the direction of his camp though, told us the one rule was no stealing – we didn't sleep well. We met an old lady named Pam in Northumbria. Pam picked us up on a roundabout in the night, she was about 82 and she’d just been couch surfing in the South of France. She said she wanted to return the karma for staying on a couch for free so she let us camp in her back garden. She hosted humanist weddings and funerals and she took us down to the beach the next day when it was windy and she bought us a coffee. Finally, Boy George’s brother picked us up and he was supposed to take us to Bristol but we ended up in London ‘cause he missed the exit four times – he was an interesting guy, he sewed Swarovski crystals to popstars' costumes, he seemed like he’d been to a few parties in his life.
Can you give us a bit of background on yourself and The Dead Boys then and how it came to light as a musical concept?
Well I have been a singer boy since I could talk, making up songs and rhymes. I took music seriously as soon as I realised the whole dog thing. I was playing around Brighton and London and people around me said I needed a band. I didn’t listen because I wanted to be comfortable with no band before I started putting extra noises behind my songs. When people stopped telling me I needed a band I put one together. I’ve known the drummer, Asher, since I was born, he said he wanted to take his drumming seriously and I agreed. Ez, the guitarist is a writer in his own right but he liked my songs and said he should play lead for me and I agreed. James was studying jazz at Trinity while I was at Laban, he plays the hammond organ. I asked if he would play with me and he agreed too so that was The Dead Boys founded.
Do you have any upcoming gigs or support slots then?
I’m confirming shows everyday at the moment. We play an intimate show at Marwood Cafe on Saturday 12th March, we are then headlining the Servant Jazz Quarter in Dalston on 16th March and then support Jingo at The Shackwell Arms 13th April. The rest will be announced as we go on t’internet so yeah, keep looking about for us.
In terms of your debut EP, When Golden Morning Comes, how did you go about recording that? Was there a certain sound in mind or ethic in the studio?
Yeah it was recorded 90% live, using analogue equipment. 60s tape machines, real plate reverb, eight tracks which are exceptionally, erm, ’primitive’ in today’s recording world. I heard about this place called Toe Rag studios and I’d just read an article from Bob Dylan about recording without headphones so it’s in a live room – it was interesting because it’s utilised to limit the degree of separation between the performer and the final recording. So, I went down to meet Liam Watson, the owner of the studio, head engineer and producer. He had worked on some amazing music – The White Stripes, Billy Childish etc – he didn’t sell the place to me because a lot of people want that sound but don’t know the requirements and limitations to get it. We used Luke Oldfield as an engineer who was fresh off recording an album for The Wytches. He was our baptism into the cyanide that is live analogue recording. You have to be tight, subtle, bold and everything in-between. There’s no room for indecision and un-clarity unless you mean it. And when it comes to the mix you have to live with your mistakes and listen into the recording rather than expect it to bounce off the ceilings and walls.
That’s interesting because it seems in Brighton, in certain circles there is such a push for polish and sheen, what’s your understanding of the comparison between the two?
I think they push for this sheen in a lot of places. You listen to Radio 1 nowadays and it seems there is a plastic coating over a lot of the music. It works with the style of the digital age, but music traditionally handled with more care in the studio sounds gross. When you hear a more honest approach to a recording you can hear the moving parts to the song, you can hear the humanity.
How do you find the Brighton music scene works with your music in general?
I’ve never been tied to a scene in Brighton. Over the last few years I’ve just been looking for others who share the same sentiment in music making to me. In a scene there is often a false sense of security, there’s an idea that if you’re playing well in Brighton then you are sorted. It doesn’t quite work like that I don’t think, you really need to earn your stripes.
How did you find the return to Brighton then post-travelling?
Brighton is home to me. I like the sleazy seaside town that it is. It has a decaying undercurrent and it has virtue, a paradise of sorts – an accepting place, nice but not too nice, the template for somewhere like Venice Beach. When you’re training up as a musician here, you need to completely downgrade yourself as there’s so many people here in the lunch queue. You need to earn your right to play here but there’s always somewhere to start. I’ve played squats, art clubs, spirit ceremonies, empty neon bars, you name it. I’m from the plain suburbs of Patcham, it’s the border between the countryside and an estate, it’s right in the middle of aspiration and existence.
So, as a general question, what’s your musical influence?
Well my base is in folk music. Real folk music though, not the acoustic singer-songwriter stuff you hear about of late. Leadbelly, John Jacob Niles, Odetta, the Alan Lomax recordings, Bob Dylan, Dave Van Ronk. I love the American recordings, noticing the Celtic and English melodies in them and with the people who sing, you can feel the weight of the song, people who know about songs. I like Johnny Cash and Elvis. I found Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits just after Dylan. Billie Holliday, Lana Del Rey, Benjamin Clementine. I like the bands that ain’t tame, like The Doors, The Velvet Underground, The White Stripes, Nirvana and The Libertines – prior to the new album.
All these groups have a deep level of lyrical content, is this something you work closely with?
Yeah, this is a main concern of mine. When you hear the EP, this should come across. The guys I listen to seem to have done a lot of reading so I try to follow them – Bukowski, Arthur Rimbaud and Ginsberg. When writing I’m concerned with tragedy, murder, work, the male condition, love. Things that scare me.
So when can we expect the EP to drop?
6th May is the date.
Website: http://www.officialsamjordan.com
Facebook:facebook.com/samjordanmusic