Graham Coxon interview: ‘The 1990s were fraught. I didn’t enjoy it’ “It’s one of those days”, says Graham Coxon, arriving flustered after the school run. Things aren’t improved when the north […]

“It’s one of those days”, says Graham Coxon, arriving flustered after the school run. Things aren’t improved when the north London restaurant where we’ve met turns out not to have soya milk; Coxon, 49, has been vegan for seven months.

He turns to his press officer, at a neighbouring table, and asks agitatedly, “Shall we go somewhere else?” Then, checking himself: “Or am I just being grumpy…” He’s not eaten anything today, he points out as he scours the menu. He orders water.

“I don’t know if I’m tired because of kids, or tired because of that [veganism].” He discards his trademark thick-rimmed glasses on the table, rubs his eyes and ruffles his hair, like someone who would much rather be tucking into breakfast in the comfort of his own kitchen, than doing an interview. “It’s difficult to know. But as a machine I’m working a lot better.”

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“The food industry is all totally wrong and anybody who speaks sense about it is overridden by the people who are making the world go round monetarily”

The veganism started as a response to his “growing disgust with the food industry and agriculture”. “Just the wastefulness, with how society and the world is set up. It’s all totally wrong and anybody who speaks sense about it is overridden by the people who are making the world go round monetarily.”

His first soundtrack

We are here to discuss Coxon’s new album – his first soundtrack, for the Netflix series The End of the F***king World, about a pair of teenage outsiders. It’s a brilliant collection of songs as evocative as the soundtrack to the indie film Juno, or Badly Drawn Boy’s About A Boy, and its influences span Scott Walker, late-1950s female vocalists, Americana, “post-punk arty stuff”, and early-1990s lo-fi. It was a learning curve for Coxon, but he found himself tapping into the way that he’s worked with Blur.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vbiiik_T3Bo

“After the meeting I immediately started making some tracks which were all totally wrong. In the end I treated the characters and the scenes like I would have treated a songwriter, trying to glean from reaction what I should be interpreting.

“That’s what I’ve done with Damon [Albarn] for years. I have to try and get as much information out of the melody or the odd lyric that he had, then figure out the emotional drive of the song and do the guitar work that would suit it.”

The soundtrack also captures Coxon’s introverted character, although he claims this was unintentional. As Blur’s guitarist, Coxon was always the quiet one, awkward in the spotlight. “In My Room” is, well, about being in your room, while “Bus Stop”, with its line “Walk a fine line, don’t follow me, don’t talk to me”, conjures up a sense of wanting to be left alone.

“’In My Room’ is totally autobiographical. I was in my room all the time working. My room is my favourite place”

“‘In My Room’ is totally autobiographical”, he recalls. “I was in my room all the time working. That makes it seem I was having a bad time, but I wasn’t. I was having a great time.” He laughs. “In fact my room is my favourite place.”

In 2015, Blur made a terrific comeback, returning to the top of the chart with their first album in 12 years, The Magic Whip. Coxon was instrumental in making the album happen; he spent “tons of time” working on it with Stephen Street, creating the tracks out of the jam sessions, then taking them to Albarn to add the vocals.

Sidelined by Blur

By comparison, despite the fact that they are consistently critically acclaimed, Coxon’s solo albums, of which there are now nine including this latest soundtrack, have little commercial success; the last of his solo albums to trouble the Top 20 was 2004’s Happiness in Magazines.

He points out that there’s another album waiting for a release. It was recorded around the same time as his last solo album, A&E, a 1960s-influenced, “more of an indie sound in the old way”, album, “you know, electric guitars and tambourines, real drums and cute little melodies and some glum tunes and some really nice big tunes”.

But with the arrival of The Magic Whip it fell by the wayside. “It’s just taking its time getting out there. What happened in the past is that I’d record an album and then Blur would do something and then…” he laughs awkwardly.

“I just felt like my stuff was getting overlooked a lot of the time. I think it’s imbued with my whole personality which isn’t particularly extrovert”

“You know … I just felt like my stuff was getting overlooked a lot of the time. Maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was just not that great. I’m just trying to figure out what it is about my stuff, what it is about me, that stops my stuff getting to more people. I think it’s imbued with my whole personality which isn’t particularly, um, extrovert.”

Perhaps, he adds, people aren’t really into “songs that are a little bit miserable”. (“If Ed Sheeran sings it then of course people like it. People like what they’re told to like and people don’t care about music enough to make their own minds about what they like.”)

But he feels his introversion has held him back? “Possibly, yeah.”

After the release, Blur went on tour for a year. How did it feel to be back at the top of the charts with them? “It did make me happy because it was my part in making that record come out, so it was great when everyone was so positive about it. For me it was about making some sort of amends to my group and for my part in things going slightly awry in the 1990s.”

How did his experience compare to when Blur used to have number ones? “I just allowed myself to enjoy it more. I never used to really allow myself to enjoy myself. I suppose I was a bit of a control freak and I wanted things to be a certain way. And a lot of external stuff would be affecting how an experience would be. Because you either had people around making things more difficult or you had the press making things more difficult.

“The 1990s were just fraught… I just didn’t enjoy it. And I always tell myself that I should have done”

“There would be a lot of bullshit surrounding everything that got in the way. So if I look back to the 1990s they were just fraught… I just didn’t enjoy it. And I always tell myself that I should have done: ‘Why didn’t you just have a good time?’”

That’s when his battle with alcoholism peaked. When the band were set to record Think Tank in 2001, he booked himself into rehab and shortly after, his band members decided he should go.

“I did try to have a good time, but the only way I could have a good time in the 1990s was to get really drunk”

“I did try to have a good time, but the only way I could have a good time in the 1990s was to get really drunk and that was the only thing that got rid of the bullshit, and then when you sobered up the bullshit was twice as big so it was just difficult.”

The future of Blur

As for the big question of whether there’s another Blur album to come, fans shouldn’t hold their breath.

“I think that it was a good punctuation in the story of Blur, whether it was the last full stop or no, I don’t know”

“No”, he laughs awkwardly. “I doubt it. I really don’t know why there would be. I think that it was a good punctuation in the story of Blur, whether it was the last full stop or no, I don’t know, but at the moment there’s certainly no plans to do anything else.”

He mentions a brief chat he had with Damon the other week, over whether they should all go out for some food and catch up. “But that’s it really,” he says, dismissively. “It was a very quick, like 20-second, conversation.”

Where they used to live near each other in London, now they are all spread out, with Alex James on a cheese farm in Oxfordshire. “Not everybody is still living with their families who they grew up with. But it doesn’t make them any less of a brother or sister.”

“When you get older it gets more difficult. That’s probably why a lot of musicians go really downhill creatively as they get older”

Then there’s the matter of time. He struggles to find time for the artwork that’s been such an important part of his creative output: he designed the cover art for all his solo albums as well as Blur’s 13. Of course, back in Blur’s 1990s heyday, before he had two young daughters with his partner Essy Syed, a photographer and artist, and an older daughter from a previous relationship, the band members had no responsibilities.

“When you get older it gets more difficult. Time gets less to do those things so that’s probably why a lot of musicians go really downhill creatively as they get older.”

In the spotlight

Does he at least feel more comfortable in the spotlight these days? “It depends how I’m feeling that day. It depends who I’m talking to, what the situation is, so many things… whether I’ve eaten anything, whether I’ve had enough sleep. I’m never going to feel good in that situation. I’m always going to feel awkward. That’s just how I am.”

As we near the end of our meeting, I feel bad that Coxon still hasn’t eaten anything, which isn’t going to help him to feel less awkward. I guess it was just one of those days.

Graham Coxon’s soundtrack ‘The End of the F***king World’ is out now on vinyl and digital release