Interview taken ( & edited ) from HermAphrodite #3?

N.B. The Dream City Film Club are now just Michael J. Sheehy.

Imagine a night so black that it purples at the edges. Everyone walking with their head down, collar turned up, concentrated swift movements, driving themselves through the rain. And thinking of nothing. There are no voices, only cars, the footsteps, the water. It stings to open your eyes properly. You watch the pavement, and where you’re stepping, or nothing at all.

But you’re inside, downstairs, out of that now.

From where you sit, head against dark wall, you could look up to the window above, and watch the lonely feet moving past along the wet pavement. But you don’t want to look up, that’s not why you’re here. You watch your fingers playing against your glass, and try not to make out any other figures through the gloom. You could imagine the Gollum sitting at a table over by the door watching you as you came in, or Eyore shuffling sadly off to the bar. Melancholia mingles with the blue smoke to form a haze about the room, everything happens more slowly here.

And the music playing softly in the background is by the Dream City Film Club, a soundtrack for the underbelly of the city, life on the dark side of the moon.

But that’s only in my imagination. Our interview takes place in their sprawling dressing-room in the Duchess of York ( Leeds ), a place known for being richer in unintelligible graffiti than melancholic art. But yet...

They look like they should do, the pictures in my head I found from listening to their records. As this interview progresses what little sunlight there is left of the day gradually disappears, and no-one moves to turn on the lights. The band begin to disappear into the shadows of their dressing room, and behind their swirling cigarette smoke. And their very appearance ( / apparel ) is monochrome, though the world in which they’re living is in full colour. Very fitting.

Yet they don’t seem to be particularly bleak people. ( They can giggle, talk hair, and tell disgusting jokes. )

Which you can’t see from their records. Or that Michael is one for slinking about onstage like a louche Boy George. Their live sound is more dimensional - and much louder, much more jagged. You can even dance to it, if you like. Try doing that to the Tindersticks.

Lawrence - “ Live it is quite angry...”

me - “ And would you rather have that live anger and vehemence on the records?”

Lawrence - “ That’s what we were; we were not a recording band, we were a live band; ( pauses contemplatively ) we’re a live band and we now do recordings.”

Andrew ( looking straight at him, sarcastically ) - “ Oh that’s really helped...”

Grin. ( But to return to the point... )

me - “ But you wouldn’t want to capture that live essence - you don’t want to start doing live singles...?”

Andrew - “ That’ll be our next phase.”

me - “ Seriously?”

Michael - “ We’re going to get more gritty.”

And where they record does also seem to affect the kind of music which they produce. Andrew starts thinking about recording in the sunshine, by a swimming pool, to try and bounce up the vibes on the record. I suggest to him the recording studio which has a sunroof ( though they ought only to open it on a sunny day - pissy weather probably wouldn’t produce a particularly happy recording. ) I’d love to see what sort of difference that would actually make to a record; like you can sometimes tell if someone was smiling as their voice is recorded, the just-knowing as you listened to it that there was a sunshine element to the music would be glorious...

Though I don’t think they’re that sort of people.

Though Michael did describe the band’s sound to me as being “ Sparkly psychedelic.”

Whatever - this is a band never destined to achieve a review headed by the word ‘jaunty’.

The Dream City Film Club did their first Peel Session this January. And it doesn’t sound very happy at all, not just in terms of the chosen subject matter either. The songs all seem to have an air of lament to them, overhanging.

Lawrence - “ We recorded it between Christmas and New Year and we’d just been with our families...”

Ah.

Alex - “ Family arguments... we were just in a really pissy mood that day.”

So do the words come from similar backgrounds as the music’s moods?

me - “ The lyrics... Do you actually know the people that you’re describing ?”

Collective giggles.

Michael - “ Mmm; though I couldn’t possibly give you their names - they’re my family.”

me - “ Do you have a large family, a big pool of ideas ?”

Michael ( nodding ) - “ Very large...”

Alex - “ They’re the Kentish Town Simpsons.”

me - “ But it’s not just characters that you’ve drawn from your imagination ?”

Michael - “ Sometimes... but I wouldn’t write about characters if I couldn’t properly relate to them.”

me ( thinking of ‘Stick Girl’ ) - “ So you actually do know a girl with razorblade bones?”

Michael - “ Not any more.”

And that’s the end of that.

When Michael’s singing then, I think it is always as himself. And even if not always to or about really real people, each one does mean something within the band, for each is being described to fulfill a purpose within the song, often serving as metaphors for the underlying emotions carried within it.

And also...

me - “ Does the writing it down help to expel certain demons for you...?”

Michael - “ Yeah, there is that, there is a kind of catharsis...”

Andrew ( mournfully ) - “ I think it makes him worse.”

Which is probably not a thing to encourage.

Let’s change the subject, shall we ?

So then, the Dream City Film Club. What do they listen to while driving around ?

Michael - “ Today, um... The Doors. And it was amazing as well, because we were on the motorway, and just while we were playing the tape, we went past this big lorry that had ‘MORISSON’S’ on the side of it.”

Amazing. ( This band are reasonably easily entertained, it would appear. )

Andrew, inspired by tales of Beatles’ Ringo investing in a certain supermarket chain, quickly establishes a conspiracy theory that ‘Jim Morrisson didn’t die, he started a supermarket’.

I think they’ve spent too long on in their van.

This is the first date of this tour.

Hmm.

I suggest their listening to ‘Teach Yourself French’ tapes.

And they appear genuinely taken with it.

Michael - “ That’s a fuckin’ great idea; we could have a laugh doing that...”

He’s then prompted to start thinking of other beneficial aural experiences, suitable ( or not ) for long car journeys.

Like one of those soothing & hypnotic whale-noise Relaxation tapes ( which he himself now gives us a free sample of... ). I’m thinking it would probably be wise not to play one if the driver can still hear it though.

( Best for a band with the words ‘Dream City’ in their title not to all be killed in an accident brought about by collective sleep... )

Which brings us on to the subject of the band’s name...

The Dream City Film Club was the name of a, um, porn-club that was situated near where the band used to rehearse. Not that they would know. And has since burnt down.

And it must be here noted that this slightly seedy background to their name absolutely does not reflect on the tastes of the band members, or the type of music that they make. Not at all. Pure coincidence really that that subject is covered several times during our conversation. Or that Andrew starts telling us about this porn club which is really close to his house, which he’s just recently taken Michael to. Because it was almost certainly a one-off visit. And Andrew was only there to ‘people watch’. ( And not in the manner of a typical strip-joint punter either... ) And Michael was only there to keep Andrew company.

Michael - “ Crotch-watch. ( pause ) I’m a voyeur of voyeurs.”

>>> Part 2

Last revised: 26/07/01