When did you start working on The Future Bites?
I'm always writing. Even around the time the last album, To the Bone, came out, I was already thinking about ideas for the next record, and some basic demos probably came almost immediately after that. I want every album to feel like it's something different than everything that's come before it. Every record, in some sense, is a natural progression from whatever it is I've just done. When I finished To the Bone, I was thinking, "Okay, what am I going to do next?" I wanted to do something more contemporary-sounding, perhaps positioned more in the world of electronic music, which I've always been a fan of. I developed a few demos early on, which were all over the place stylistically. The definition that began to establish itself was definitely the one you hear on The Future Bites, which is less guitar-oriented. I really wanted to explore themes to do with self-identity in the age of social media and consumerism.
Definitely.
I did most of the writing around about the middle of 2018. At the time, we were right in the middle of the Trump administration, we had Brexit going on in the U.K., and, for the first time in my life, I didn't feel the future was a particularly optimistic place. I'd always looked forward to the future in the past, but this was the first time in my life I was genuinely worried about the future. That was where the whole idea of The Future Bites came from. I've began to feel slightly more optimistic about the world, for obvious reasons, but also because we have the vaccination now in the U.K. Regarding the album, certain songs began to establish themselves as the frontrunners. I always write a lot more music than I need. I had 25 songs written for this album, and only nine are on the record.
I've assumed that with the way you work, and the number of projects you've been involved with over the years, that writing would be something that's always going on. But it has to be focused down to whatever album you're currently working on, right?
Pretty much. I've already written two songs for my next record. That's also partly because there's been such a big delay. The album was ready to go in January 2020, and it's finally out a year later. That's been frustrating, but it's also given me the opportunity to be creative again, and I'm already thinking about my next record. Part of me feels it's such a privilege to be able to do what I do. To be a professional musician in the 21st century, I don't underestimate what a privilege and honor it is to be able to do that. And to do that in a pretty selfish way. I don't make anything you would say is "mainstream." While this album has got some accessible songs on it, most of my career has been conducted outside of the mainstream. I've never compromised. I'm very fortunate to be able to get to do what I do.
That's probably part of the longevity. The building of a fanbase that's not looking for a temporal pop hit.
I think so, yeah. One of the things I've always strived to do is to be able to be an artist who can say they don't belong to a particular genre. They create their own musical world. I know there are some people who think I'm "Mr. Prog Rock" or "Mr. Prog Metal," and some people are going to be disappointed when they hear a record like The Future Bites, because it's not that. But I've never said that's what I did. I always thought of myself as more in the tradition of someone – I'm flattering myself by mentioning these names, but only in the sense of the way they've conducted their career – your David Bowies, your Frank Zappas, your Peter Gabriels, and your Neil Youngs. The kind of people who you can't categorize as being anything in particular. They create their own musical universes. In my own small way, that's what I'm striving to do.
I think that's very healthy; being able to open up and not feel boxed in. I could see where that was leading with your band, Porcupine Tree.
It's a tough thing to do. It's even tougher now, because you have an immediate mirror of social media. Anything that I do, any new song I release, any video, anything I say or do, can get an immediate wave of negativity. Not all, but there's always a small contingent of extremely negative feedback to anything that we do. Of course, that's very much a 21st century phenomenon. Bowie and Zappa never had to deal with that. They would get professional journalists reviewing their new album, but they wouldn't have this instant wave of, "Oh, I don't like this. I'm not sure about this. This isn't what I want him to be doing." As you say, to be able to feel I'm someone who's not boxed in, I'm constantly fighting these preconceptions and confronting the expectations that others have of me. I believe if you do earn that right to be that kind of artist, it's the greatest thing of all. I do realize how lucky I am in not having to be beholden to my audience in that respect.
Well, creatively that would be a nightmare; to not be able to move forward or explore.
I think you're right, but so many artists are stuck in that holding pattern, where they try something a bit different and then fans push back. It's what I call the AC/DC syndrome. I love AC/DC, but, essentially, they've been making the same record for 50 years now. I don't think their fans would allow them to do anything different!
Yeah!
To be in a position where you're expected to do something different is the greatest position of all.
The doors are open. With The Future Bites, you worked extensively with David Kosten, co-producing and working out of his place as well as your private studio. How did the relationship with David develop?
I've known David for a long time, more than 25 years now. We both started out in the music industry about the same time, in the early '90s. To try and make ends meet in the early days we were both doing music for TV commercials, so we would find ourselves going up against each other in a job for Sony PlayStation, M&Ms, LEGO, or something. We got to know each other through this friendly rivalry. I've been such an admirer of his production sound and his musical aesthetic. What I love about him is that you can recognize when you listen to any of the records he's made, whether it's Bat for Lashes, Keane, me, or whatever he's done, you can hear he's someone who has a very wide taste and a very wide knowledge in the history of music. But his records always sound fresh, contemporary, and "now." I say that because if I do have an Achilles' heel; it's that I tend to sometimes disappear down the rabbit hole of homage, in the nicest possible way.
Sure.
You can sometimes listen to my records and say, "Oh, yes. That's his record that is his tribute to '70s conceptual rock," or, "His last album, To The Bone, is his homage to '80s experimental pop." I'm aware of that, and I wanted – this time – to make a record that could only exist in 2020 or 2019, as that's when we made it. So, I thought of David. David is very good at stopping me. Most producers, most engineers, and most musicians, if you're working in the studio with them and collectively hit on something that reminds you of something you love – it could be The Beatles, it could be Kraftwerk, it could be David Bowie – most people's natural reaction is, "Oh, it sounds great! It's just like David Bowie!" David is the opposite. He's like, "It sounds just like David Bowie. No, we can't do that." That was very refreshing to me, because I usually get very excited about things that remind me of music I already like. But I'm totally with him when it's like, "No! Find your own idea. Find something that's more uniquely yours." Almost without exception when he pushed me, I would find something that I liked even better but it somehow didn't sound like it was an homage to something else. That's his real strength.
That's good guidance. That's a good way to keep digging.
Absolutely. Keep digging.
What was the process like? Were you building demos at your place and then taking them to him and expanding? Or were you going to his place to start the creation of a song?
I would always bring something to the studio. It could be a very rough sketch. The song "Self," I had a verse and rhythm and that was it. Other songs I would take almost complete. Some of those songs he would rip to pieces, and we'd build them back up. He's quite opinionated, David; which is what I like about him. "I think the melody's great, but the arrangement's all wrong. Let's start again." Other songs are almost exactly as I brought them in. He made them sound better. "12 Things I Forgot" is essentially the same as my original demo. It just sounds different. David's not deferential to me. He's an experienced, award-winning producer. He'll tell me if he thinks I can do better. That's not easy for me, because I am a bit of a control freak. I'm used to getting my way. But if I respect someone, as I respect David, then I will listen.
Was there still time when you would go home and work on vocals alone?
Most of it we did together. I'm not the most confident singer, and I was very used to being in the position where I'd do the vocals at home in my own little space. But David was like, "No, we're going to do it here, and I'm going to produce you as a vocalist." It's that thing where you settle for a lot less unless there's someone there pushing you. I would settle for vocal takes and he's like, "No, you can do better." Every time he would get something out of me that I didn't know was there. I've never been the most confident singer. I understand my limitations. I know I have something that's unique to me, but I've never been the most confident, from a technical perspective. Again, it's great to have someone pushing me. I do a lot of falsetto on the record and use various electronic techniques on my voice. I'm proud of my singing on this record.
I always tell people there's a huge difference between doing 40 takes and comping it by yourself and having someone there who's producing. If I dig in and guide someone through vocal takes, we'll end up somewhere quite different than a person who's alone recording take after take. That's something that people miss these days.
It's funny, isn't it? Slightly different context, but the same thing you're saying, in a way: I always find that when I finish a track – I'm sure you find this too – I'll think it's perfect; it sounds amazing. Then I'll play it to someone else for the first time, and I start to hear it through their ears. We're hearing it through someone else's ears for the first time. "Oh god, this bit goes on too long, doesn't it? This bit feels long! I should have cut this." It's funny. These things that would never have occurred to you when working in isolation, suddenly you're hearing it through the other person in the room's ears, and the whole song takes on a completely different perspective. That's one of the beautiful things about having someone to sound ideas off of. He would hear what I didn't hear, originally. Even pronunciation. I was pronouncing words in a way like, "What are you saying there? I can't hear what you're saying. That word feels awkward." I'd ask, "Does it? Why?" And David would say, "It doesn't scan." Then I would find a better word, and he'd be absolutely right. That's the archetypal role of the producer. As someone who's always thought of myself as a producer, I haven't put myself in that position. But there is an argument to say that sometimes the person who's a producer is sometimes the one who most needs to be produced when they're making their own music, because they don't have as much subjectivity about what they're doing.
Yeah. I find it much easier to guide someone than to guide myself.
Absolutely. Me too.
You're well-known for mixing, but you've had many other mixers on your albums. Is that also part of a letting go and letting someone else throw their perspective in?
Yeah, exactly. I can mix, and I do a lot of mixing. But it comes back to what we said a minute ago, that this being my writing, and my performance; sometimes I can't see the wood for the trees. You can't be objective about your own work. I could have mixed it, but I liked the idea of putting it in the hands of someone else I trust. David had been working through the whole creative process with me anyway. I don't know about you, but certainly the way most modern records are made these days, you're kind of mixing as you go along anyway.
Absolutely.
It's not like the old days where we would track a record on tape and it would be a bit of a mess until we got to the mixing. These days we're mixing, putting in plug-ins, and processing, so the mix is coming together as we track. This was no exception. It was logical for David to continue to complete the process. We wanted a couple of songs that had more of a radio sheen to them, and Cenzo [Townshend] is very good at that. As someone who was a sidekick to [Mark] "Spike" Stent for many years, he knows a lot more about making songs sound like they "pop" on radio, to use that word. We had him mix a couple of tunes that were potentially radio songs, and he did a great job.
Leading into that, with your work that you are doing – the remixes of Yes, XTC, Jethro Tull, and King Crimson albums – how did that first come around?
Well, we have to go right back to the beginning. Around about 2002, Porcupine Tree signed to an American label: Lava/Atlantic Records. We made a record in New York called In Absentia. There was somebody in the company who felt it would be a good idea to hook up with DTS [Digital Theater Systems], who were very much trying to get 5.1 [surround mixes] into the marketplace at the time. They felt that it would be a good record for them to invest in a 5.1 mix. They hired Elliot Scheiner to do the 5.1 mix for In Absentia. I didn't know anything about it at the time. I got sent the mix and we went to a studio in London to hear it. I didn't like it, because I'm a control freak. To me it was like, "This is not the way it should sound in 5.1." So, immediately I said, "Look, can I fly over there and sit with Elliot? He's in the ballpark, but can we sit there and do this together and then we'll both be happy?" That's exactly what happened. I flew over and we revisited the mix until I was happy with it. I got totally into it, watching him do it, thinking, "I can do this. This is great! I'm going to get a surround setup." I went back home and put a surround setup together. I started to mix all my records in surround at that time; all the Porcupine Records, all the other projects I was doing at the time. And there would be a surround project that would come out of everything. Lo and behold, one year one of them got a Grammy nomination for Best Surround Sound Album. It was Fear of a Blank Planet, the penultimate Porcupine Tree album. It's funny how people suddenly start to notice and take you a bit more seriously when you get a Grammy nomination. I didn't take it very seriously, but I got approached by the manager of King Crimson about doing King Crimson in 5.1. I said, "Sure. I'd love to have a go!" I did three King Crimson albums, and they got an ecstatic response from the surround sound community when they came out. I didn't know what I was doing; I was approaching it in a very intuitive way. I hadn't really listened to anybody else's surround mixes. I got the impression I was a bit more aggressive with surround, and I had a lot of tracks going on in the back. So, one door started to lead to another. I was invited to do some more progressive rock bands, like Jethro Tull and Yes, then XTC, Tears for Fears, Simple Minds, and Black Sabbath. It's all been word-of-mouth. I love doing it. I learn so much from doing it, and I love to give something back to the music as well, most of which I grew up listening to.
