“Liverpool’s very cold today. Everyone’s got three jumpers on.”
So says Brian Campbell by cell phone in a round, lilting accent. Like his bandmates, frontmen Ade Blackburn and Hartley, and beat keeper Carl Turney, Campbell’s musical foil since age 12, the bassist is a native Liverpudlian, the two sets of chums passing through the same schools. Could climate be to blame for Clinic’s malpractice?
“Depends wot day it is,” says Campbell about their five-year-old group’s musical references. “It’s so wide and varied, going from doo-wop, Shangri-Las — girl group stuff — to the Velvet Underground, Suicide, Crime, Kraftwerk, Phil Spector, you know. The 13th Floor Elevators, Capt. Beefheart. It’s endless really.”
Dub and Augustus Pablo also explains Clinic’s prescription for electro-shock harmonica and melodica, used to killing effect on their debut and its newly delivered follow-up. If 2000’s Internal Wrangler was a trip to the asylum, Walking With Thee visits The Exorcist. Must be opener “Harmony” and its devilish roots shriek. The lads were, eh, familiar with “Tubular Bells,” yes?
“Yeah, familiar with it, but not fans of it,” laughs Campbell. “A few people have said this. It was just the mood we were in at that moment, but I still think it’s quite good. It creates an eerieness, a tension.”
Quite. And the scrubs … ?
“We think you can go see four guys perform in jeans and T-shirts any night of the week. We wanna make it more of an event. Are you familiar with the Residents? I think there’s a sense of humor toward Clinic. Wearing surgeons’ gear and masks is a bit ridiculous, but it keeps it fun for us. Hopefully it keeps it fun for the audience. Plus it adds a bit of that sinister element.”
Dr. Giggles gone goth.
“There’s a sinister side to the music, but there’s still a positive note running through it. I think it keeps you listening, so you can’t really switch it off. I suppose it’s like a horror film; you’re always thinking about what’s ’round the next corner.”
This article appears in March 15 • 2002.
