Brian Eno is MORE DARK THAN SHARK

INTERVIEWS, REVIEWS & RELATED ARTICLES

Disc AUGUST 18, 1973 - by Martin Marriot

BRYAN - COOL, CALM AND SOLO

Bryan Ferry isn't doing interviews at the moment, said his publicist; he hasn't anything to say.

Stuff and nonsense, thought I, and embarked on a mission to pin down this eminence increasingly grise with a coolness and cunning which would have done credit to Philip Marlowe. No, said a frightened voice when I phoned what I was told was his home number, he's not here. No, said his closest acquaintances, we haven't seen him for weeks - he's possibly in Monte Carlo, he likes it down there. Every lead concerning the man's whereabouts lost itself in a mass of confusion as bewildering as the rumours surrounding Roxy Music themselves.

I'm able to report that Bryan Ferry is alive and well and living in London only because I spotted him, purely by chance, entering the Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington one day last week - and let me say now I never discovered why a rock star should have been visiting such an unlikely place.

Although clearly reluctant to converse at length, Mr. Ferry, noted for his charm and affability, politely consented to a quick chat.

Eye-catchingly incognito in exquisitely-cut grey jacket, navy-and-white polkadot cravat and shades. Roxy Music's mastermind stood before a Raphael cartoon and spoke quietly and with measured deliberation about the state of his mind, of the nation, and - I hoped - of his music.

Throwing subtlety to the winds, I asked Bryan if Roxy had broken up.

"No..." A long pause. "Have they?" Well, you tell me, Mr. Ferry. Will he next declare that Roxy are merely a figment of the public's imagination? I nearly touch his arm to check that he isn't a figment of mine.

Who exactly is in the band at present? I enquire.

"Well, there are a lot of people who aren't in the band." The facts, Mr. Ferry, if you please. Just the bare facts.

"O.K., I'll give it to you straight." Bryan offers me a mint humbug and proceeds:

"There's only one addition to the band - that's Eddie Jobson. The rest of the band are Paul Thompson, Andy Mackay, Phil Manzanera and myself."

So much for those rumours. And why Eddie Jobson?

"Not because he's a violinist as such - it's by no means one of my favourite instruments in a rock context. Eddie will actually be playing some keyboards and some violin. I'll play a little piano, but want to concentrate on singing.

"No one else other than Eddie was ever considered really. He's been playing on my solo album, I really enjoyed working with him, so it seemed very logical."

The solo album is almost completed and should be ready for release in September. The range of material is extraordinarily diverse and includes Don't Worry Baby, I Love How You Love Me, You're So Square, Piece Of My Heart, It's My Party, River Of Salt, These Foolish Things, You Won't See Me, Tracks Of My Tears, A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall, Please Don't Ever Change, Loving You and Sympathy For The Devil.

"They're some of my favourite songs, they represent my taste. Up to now I haven't recorded anyone else's material except my own. Until recently all albums were basically like that - compilations of other people's material.

"It's fairly obvious that Roxy Music made its reputation as a group performing new things. On this album I wanted to place the emphasis on singing and also use a different instrumentation, brass and strings. They weren't possible in the context of Roxy."

Besides Eddie Jobson, Bryan used Roxy's Paul Thompson on drums and the band's occasional bassist John Porter on guitar (and Phil Manzanera on one track), Henry Lowther, Roger Ball and Malcom Duncan (from the Average White Band) on brass, a quartet of girl backing singers (Bryan refused to say who), and Jessie Smith and Robbie Montgomery.

Jessie and Robbie were the original Ikettes and were backing Dr. John in Montreux when Bryan flew there a few weeks back to pick up an award for the first Roxy album. The next day they were in Air Studios, backing the Ferry version of Sympathy For The Devil before rushing off to their Rainbow show that evening.

Bryan declined to comment on the album tracks in any detail, but did mention that Cole Porter's These Foolish Things had been given a slightly reggae treatment and that Dylan's A Hard Rain was hard and heavy and might be put out as a single.

These Foolish Things will also be the album's title. Was there an autobiographical meaning intended here - a sense of ennui and detachment? Was Bryan weary of the whole business?

"You could say that," he laughed. "I suppose I'm disenchanted with the business at the moment. There's an awful lot of insensitivity - to the music and to myself. Let's say I find the rock scene a disappointing one to be in all the time. I'm looking for solace."

Bryan Ferry looked at his watch, apologised but he was already late, shook hands and walked off past the sepia landscapes into the gloom.