The Debrief: Baxter Dury
French novelist Gustave Flaubert said “There is no truth. There is only perception.” It’s a fitting quote when discussing West London’s Baxter Dury. Son of Ian but very much an artist in his own right, Dury’s penchant for perception, or rather, his ability to decode other people’s perception of him, is what’s kept his work so inventive over the last two decades.
He’s got self-awareness seeping out of his pores, acutely aware that his surname earns him no fear or favour, he’s always keen to make himself the butt of any joke, and while humorous turns of phrase, danceable beats and snappy guitar lines are what draw you into his tracks, you inevitably stay for his ability to paint pictures with words, creating otherworldly stories in beautifully mundane settings.
His new album ‘I Thought I Was Better Than You’ marks a reinvention of sorts for Dury, ushering in a sonic new era, he’s birthed a much more confessional record than previous releases; while the off-kilter characters and creations still exist, they’re instead supported by biographical insights into his childhood and upbringing. He doesn’t do this to show off or paint himself as a tortured artist, nor does he find it cathartic. Dury’s just moving closer to the Baxter he really is, rather than the one we want him to be.
This is your seventh solo record, counting only your studio full-lengths. I imagine a lot’s happened for you in those 21 years since the release of ‘Len Parrot’s Memorial Lift’, do you still recognise and relate to that version of Baxter Dury, personally and artistically?
Well, nothing and everything has changed. I mean, things grind on slowly, and yet they’re excitingly different. I just heard on the radio they’re talking about nuclear weapons and I went, “Oh, turn that off…” I can’t think of all the details in between, the peaks and the troughs, you know. Everything’s changed… musically, geographically. You don’t change that much though, do you? You just learn a few devices. You probably sort of set your tone by the age of 12. You know what I mean? In all honesty, there’s always a uniqueness when you do something for the first time and it’s slightly contrived for a while after that because once you learn something or you admit or confirm that you’re good at it, you sort of get worse at it… maybe.
You’ve talked about “being trapped in an awkward place between something you’re actually quite good at, and somebody else’s success.” With ‘somebody else’ being your dad, is that something you’ve had to wrestle with during your own solo career?
I don’t think it’s a harmful thing to have something to wrestle against really. It’s quite a conceptual thing. I mean, most people perish under that pressure, so I feel quite proud, especially within the kind of art circle music for sure. Being the son or daughter of somebody with a kind of high status. Essentially that is a weird relationship because it’s not like you are passed on any obvious skillset… I didn’t inherit anything from him [his dad, Ian] that could persuade anyone else that I was any good. In fact, the opposite really, because he was just a quirky bunch of characteristics. So it’s not a lot to take from that… like you might meet somebody in the industry that might help you along a little bit. That’s about it really. But all they’re doing, if you are shit, they’re just assisting you to learn that you’re shit quicker. You know what I mean? You just can’t be shit for too long and I sort of know that now.
““I just used the book as a reference, and it was a way of talking about the family situation. It was quite interesting because of the nepo baby discourse… I’ve really preempted that. I’m the ultimate rubbish repo baby.””
On ‘Crowded Room’ there’s a line “Why am I condemned because I’m the son of a musician? / Because I don’t wash or you think I’m too posh?”... What feelings are you extrapolating there?
It was a sort of rap tactic, you know what I mean? It’s like a standard confessional way of talking and you’re in the moment, you’re projected into a moment. You’re feeling it from the perspective of whoever’s saying that. So it’s more that kind of trick. It’s quite lazy for me because I can sort of spill out stuff quite quickly from my internal narrative valve. It’s just sort of constantly streaming out nonsensical stuff, and so I could sort of capture some of that and it lent itself perfectly for those kinds of lyrics. It’s quite theatrical. It’s a bit dickens. I’m reliving a moment.
‘I Thought I Was Better Than You’. Where did the inspiration come from for the album title, could you expand on that a little…
Well, it’s just the first line and the first song. Oh, well, the first kind of proper song ‘Aylesbury Boy’, was just a bit of a confusing, faux confident statement. I saw Fulham play recently… but they’ve got the most middle-class audience and they sort of go, “Come on Fulham… if you don’t mind, give us a goal.” It’s the same sort of thing. “Come on please, if you don’t mind.”
There’s quite a lot of the record that touches on your childhood, was it a conscious decision to explore that, and if you don’t mind me asking…why?
Oh, I mean, I’ve sort of run out of things and I’ve written a book and I had all that floating quite near the surface. I’ve been listening to a lot of hip-hop and things like that, and I just thought I’d take some of the ways they can flip a moment into something interesting. You break a kind of fourth barrier somehow, yet in that kind of hip-hop music, it’s pretty candid. As soon as a song isn’t mystical and it’s too biographical, you’re violating the storytelling trust with the person who’s listening… you’re being too honest. I just used the book as a reference, and it was a way of talking about the family situation. It was quite interesting because of the nepo baby discourse… I’ve really preempted that. I’m the ultimate rubbish repo baby.
Image: Tom Beard
Was it cathartic at all to revisit these experiences that play out in the book and the record?
Yes and no. In terms of the book, it’s a bit of an expo. I mean, there’s a sort of weird thing if you’ve been brought up like this, you get used to a bit of exposure and you sort of despise it and you wanna protect it. I mean, not that anyone cares, they’re not devouring every fact about my life at all, but there’s a little bit of fame… but I think music’s gotta stay music. It’s not a documentary. It’s only a subject matter that lends itself, and I’m only taking a few words. There’s not really much about the book in there. It’s just a few words. It’s a reference, it’s emotional, it’s bullshit.
Then to talk about it sonically, it’s for sure your most hip-hop-sounding record, which again relates back to your childhood and “not being an indie kid”, what led you to make these changes to your sound?
I listened to a lot as a kid and then I got into it over lockdown and started listening to people that everyone was talking about for years, like Frank Ocean, Tyler, and especially Kendrick. I just thought that was better than anything else. I mean, it’s not really hip-hop… hip-hop is such a simple way of explaining it. Though, what you do is get inspired by somebody and you make your own rubbish, provincial version of it.
I know it’s not on the record, but I was listening to ‘D.O.A’ recently, and after having listened to the record in full this week, I could almost hear a thread connecting that to ‘I Thought I Was Better Than You’. Was that a catalyst of sorts for your new material?
Yeah, I think so. I think that was the first, but that was me doing that on my own at home. Then on this record, I used somebody, this guy called Paul White… that’s his field. He works with American hip-hop artists and he knows what he’s doing, so he just put everything at ease and just sort of took control of that. He was really good actually. So it was really enjoyable and easy.
““It felt like things were slowing you down in the seventies and eighties, you know what I mean? So that machismo has disappeared and we have a normal, fair relationship.””
What influence did Paul White have on the album and what was it like working with him?
There was none of that ceremonial bullshit I’d been so used to for years. It was just really direct. It was just me and him in quite a shoddy room. Not any comment on his shoddy room. It’s a nice shoddy room. It was just very simple. It was like going to the office every day, you do a few hours and it wasn’t exhaustive, but that’s because there weren’t layers of unnecessary personnel there who were associated with recording over the years.
You recorded it differently from your previous work, creating rough demos in your living room. Why did you decide to make a change to the recording process?
I was just locked in. You were locked in. So it was just me and my son fucking around with music. I tried to make the album about three times and was just doing the same thing poorly…the same thing I’d done for seven, six times before. Paul sort of highlighted the fact that I had something there, it just took someone to take responsibility. He’s quite good like that, he’s just a good vibes person.
Do you think that’s not a skill that you possess then, taking responsibility and grabbing something by the bull horns, as it were?
I think it’s better to have departments. I didn’t wanna get rid of all departments cause that’s all a bit too… it is a bit pointless if you’ve got no one to talk to. You might as well not play it to anyone either.
Image: Tom Beard
Your son Kosmo wrote on the record as well, which I thought was really cool. How does the relationship with your son differ from the one you had with your dad?
We certainly have a different emotional range and it’s not the eighties and seventies… it’s not like people were more accountable, but parenting is celebrated. Being a dad is a positive thing. It felt like things were slowing you down in the seventies and eighties, you know what I mean? So that machismo has disappeared and we have a normal, fair relationship.
You’re pretty well known for being accompanied on a track by a female singer, Eska Mtungwazi, JGGrey and Madeline Hart all feature on this record… what do you enjoy about collaborations?
I think it’s a nice foil to the kind of lack of musicality in my voice, it balances that out. You don’t want more men. I just feel like it needs that lightness to it. Someone like JGGrey… she’s not willing to do anything because she’s a singer in her own right. When she sings, she either likes it or doesn’t.
Lastly, I always like to end on a reflective note… so what advice would you give the younger, wide-eyed, 2002 Baxter? Now you’ve got the benefit of hindsight and experience.
I don't think there’s a lot I could say because I think I’ll be a confusing older bloke talking to a more confused younger bloke… it would be a very bohemian matrix. I dunno what would happen. The vortex wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Baxter Dury’s new album ‘I Thought I Was Better Than You’ is out now on Heavenly Recordings.
Main Image: Tom Beard
