Mclusky*: 'We Might Never Get To Do This Again, So Fuck It'

Wales isn’t traditionally a country associated with underground rock’n’roll, but for an all-too-brief time in the early 2000s, Cardiff-bred post-hardcore trio Mclusky led the global pack with their distinct brand of musical mayhem.

Delivered with a righteous indignation, perhaps partly tongue-in-cheek, their songs were a groove-heavy attack on the psyche, pummelling the senses while massaging the sensibilities, equal parts acerbic and hilarious. The final product was always genuinely compelling, whether experienced on record or in the live realm, where they were peerless in their ferocity.

Sadly Mclusky burnt brightly but briefly and they pulled up stumps in 2005, leaving behind three accomplished albums – including one genuine masterpiece, their 2002 effort Mclusky Do Dallas – and a rich legacy far out of proportion to the amount of time they existed.

At that juncture, frontman Andy “Falco” Falkous dragged the band’s final drummer Jack Egglestone off to form the equally deranged Future Of The Left, while founding bassist Jonathan Chapple decamped to Melbourne, where’s he become a respected member of that city’s rich music community.

It was never going to be a full-blown reunion when Mclusky finally decided to come out of hibernation for some benefit gigs in 2014, so they rebranded as Mclusky*, Chapple's role taken by Damien Sayell (of Bristol punks the St Pierre Snake Invasion).

It was an unscripted walk down memory lane but one which the band members enjoyed nearly as much as their ravenous fans – they’re now returning to continue the dream Down Under.

"I don’t think the world is ready for me doing that yet."

“That’s one of the things that tickles me when people say they’re so excited for the show, I’m like, ‘You’re not as excited as I am!’" Falkous says. 

“But it’s not just the sunshine, it’s playing the shows. You can protest too much about it, but it’s loads of fucking fun. We had one gig out of the shows we did this [northern] summer which wasn’t as fun as the rest of the shows – it was a bit of a pain in the arse – but you know what, that was still really fucking good! It sure beats working for a living in any rough way, so it’s all been fantastic.”

Falco has always seemed the forward-looking type, has he been enjoying revisiting this time of his life?

“Well I don’t have to go back to that time of life, that’s the thing,” he shrugs. “I don’t have to go back and live in the flat I was living in with the people I was living with – although some of them are thoroughly nice and everything, there’s usually a reason that you don’t want to live in sharehouses in your 40s if you can possibly avoid it.

“So I don’t have to actually go back in time and if I could that would make me a witch or a warlock, wouldn’t it? I don’t think the world is ready for me doing that yet. But it’s been strange once or twice, especially when we’ve played songs that Mclusky never played in our original form – that’s a strange experience, playing songs like The World Loves Us And Is Our Bitch or No Covers, which was one of the B-sides, but is now one we’re doing live and it sounds fucking great.

“So it was just a question of playing and that sounded great, then somebody asked us to do a show and that sounded great, and then somebody else asked us to do a show and it sounded great.

“That’s kind of how the cunning plan happened, and then a couple of people contacted me about some shows in Australia – which seems a ridiculous thing to do really for a band that isn’t even active in any sense of the word – so I contacted Handsome Tours because they’ve been putting on our shows since 2002 and it seemed only right to give them the first option. So between us we thought we might do it and that the shows might go well enough, but the shows in Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane in particular have just gone crazy! I think the second night in Melbourne is sold out now, it’s fantastic.

“And you don’t want to say it’s a vindication because if you’re in a band and you know it’s any good you don’t need vindication, but it’s basically going to make for some amazing evenings and that’s what it’s all about – those moments."

In their original form, Mclusky toured Australia twice – in late 2003 and mid 2004 – and those shows have taken on almost mythical status, spoken about in hushed tones by the folks lucky enough to have been in the right place at the right time.

"They probably appreciated how straightforward and, I would hope, how bullshit free it all was."

“Frankly you don’t start a band – certainly when I started a band – in your mid-20s and have playing in Australia on top of your list of things to do, with all due respect," Falkous tells. "It’s just not one of the rock’n’roll stories or myths that is sold to you: touring the States is, driving over the Rockies or whatever and playing all of those different cities. And that is an incredible experience to have.

“But our Australian crowds, right from the start, were special to us. That’s just how it is. Let’s face it, we’re hardly a big, well-known band, but I think in a certain constituency of rock fans they probably appreciated how straightforward and, I would hope, how bullshit free it all was. And I would hope that they knew [there] were people on that stage who lay to the left as individuals and were presenting you with that worldview without lecturing you on it like a lot of other bands would. I’m not criticising that – that’s what people want from certain kinds of bands – but there’s no preaching at our shows because there doesn’t have to be.”

Looking back it was a strange time for rock in the early 2000s, with a lot of bands seeming to find success as much due to their hair and how they dressed as their music, making Mclusky’s wilful racket a breath of fresh air amid the preening and posturing.

“We looked like we were dressed by reverse style monkeys in the dark, it was shocking,” Falkous laughs. “Basically it comes down to this: some bands are raw, but genuinely raw bands don’t get played on the radio, they don’t. You might get told they’re raw, but the stuff you hear get played on the radio isn’t raw – by definition, if it’s played on the radio it’s not raw, that’s it. 

“But there’s some people out there who for whatever reason can never come to terms with that. You know how some people don’t have a gaydar? Well some people don’t have a ‘raw-dar’, they really don’t. They’ll say, ‘This band is so raw!’ and then you hear them and there’s literally nothing raw about that band, everything is the volume it should be… But fucking hell, what do I know?”

It's kind of an ironic point to hear from Falkous because, ultimately, a lot of Mclusky songs are, at their heart, pop songs.

“There are exceptions – like on Mclusky Do Dallas a song like Clique Application Form wasn’t – but they are, and they’re deliberately pop songs as well," Falkous concurs. "We had our slightly weird structures, but Mclusky songs basically don’t have key changes either. For me that’s always been the cheapest way of getting to the chorus, same as the easiest way for a drummer to say, 'It’s the chorus,' by bashing the fuck out of the cymbals. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done a couple of songs like that over the journey, but for the most part we have a policy in all of our bands that if you have to go to the cymbals right away it shows what we call a ‘failure of dynamics’. If that’s the only way you can illustrate things getting more exciting by bringing in the cymbals… If I had my way I’d ban cymbals and hi-hats from rock music, I hate them. 

“I want everything to sound like a slightly funky death march, anything else gets on my tits, although that’s probably just my tinnitus speaking, to be honest with you.”

Has it been strange to return to the Mclusky material without his past partner-in-crime Chapple in the fold?

“Nah, it’s better,” he chuckles. “There’s less to worry about, mate. When I do shows now – especially with a family and a young kid – they’re like holidays to us, like outings where we do a lot of things. We don’t make a lot of money as a band but we do spend money or not make enough money to eliminate things, which is a worry.

“But when you step on stage as a band – and this doesn’t even single anybody out, it’s just a human way of looking at it – but the kind of band I want to be in is it’s the people on stage against the world, as cheesy as that sounds. 

"It’s up to other people to compare it, but personally I enjoy it loads more."

“I don’t actually think those words – I don’t step on stage and go [adopts high-pitched voice], ‘It’s us against the world!’, so it’s not Thelma And Louise or anything, although in effect it is. And it wasn’t like that towards the end of that band, and for a considerable amount of time on and off in that band.

“But it is like that now. It’s up to other people to compare it, but personally I enjoy it loads more. That’s it really, and other people are invited to enjoy it or not fucking enjoy it as they see fit. And if you don’t enjoy it as much, then nostalgia got the better of you, it wrestled you to the fucking ground, congratulations. It’s just about having fun and living in that moment and enjoying all those songs, and frankly it’s also a lot easier than doing a Future Of The Left set. 

“Future Of The Left is a lot like doing a fucking exam at times – which is great, it’s my passion still, the passion – but with Mclusky, even though it’s a bit more of a sprint all the way through, physically and mentally you can have three-and-a-half beers and not worry about it. It’s silly and it’s very raw and then it ends. 

“And it’s shorter than a Future Of The Left set because there’s less material to draw from. It’s just over an hour, whereas with a Future Of The Left set by the end it’s like you’re being chased by wolves through a forest of barbed wire. Which is actually a sensation I quite enjoy, but it’s not easy, put it that way.”

But for now there’s no wolves, just the prospect of another hot run of shows Down Under. 

“All of the Australian shows are shaping up as being great, especially the Melbourne shows because the way they’ve sold is crazy,” he marvels. “It’s stupid, it’s fucking crazy. I don’t understand but I don’t want to overanalyse it because I just want to fucking enjoy it. 

“We might never get to do this again, so fuck it let’s… I’m not going to say burn it all down because I’m too polite, I always tidy up afterwards. But you say people were talking about those past shows in hushed tones: let’s fucking obliterate that memory!”