Jane Weaver turns up to our interview in a Stockport restaurant carrying a plastic bag stuffed with albums. They are all old, the worse for wear – she’s taking them to be professionally cleaned later – and obscure: the closest the bag’s contents comes to mainstream is a compilation of soundtrack music from the 80s films of nouvelle vague director Eric Rohmer. “The music from the scenes set in discos or parties,” she nods. “Really good. Eighties, French, synthesisers. Some of it sounds a bit like Air.”
This all seems very Jane Weaver-ish. Over the past decade or so, she has released a string of fantastic, acclaimed albums, each one a left-turn from the last. They’ve taken in acid folk, space rock, eerie, drifting electronic experimentation, hypnotic, vaguely krautrock-y instrumentals and full-on pop, all of them informed by separate moodboards of obscure influences that speak of a profoundly eclectic taste and a lot of time spent digging through esoteric records. Even 2021’s glittery, pop-facing Flock was apparently based in an infatuation with “Lebanese torch songs and Australian punk”. She is the kind of artist who says things like, “I just kind of went down the rabbit hole of 80s Russian aerobics music,” in the same way that other people might announce they’ve been streaming that Noah Kahan single a lot.
Her most recent record, Love in Constant Spectacle, maintains a consistent theme. The cover imagery was influenced by the 1973 animated film “Belladonna of Sadness,” which depicts a witch in medieval France. Its portrayal of sexism, feudal suppression, and moral decay led to its failure at the box office, ultimately causing the studio to go bankrupt. The music itself also takes a different direction. While the artist, who is 52 years old, has produced her previous albums on her own, she collaborated with John Parish, a key member of PJ Harvey’s team, in Bristol for Love in Constant Spectacle. In contrast to the bright hues of her former album “Flock,” the outcome is raw, gloomy, guitar-driven, and at times, folky- which may come as a surprise. She had abandoned her folk style over a decade ago, tired of constantly being typecast due to her gender and acoustic guitar. She explains, “It’s that feeling of fighting against what you did last, or fighting against yourself.”
In addition, the writing and recording process occurred during a difficult time as her father was battling illness. She explains, “The past five years have been filled with a sense of impending loss.” Sadly, he passed away in August. Seeking a change of scenery and relief, she reached out to John, saying, “I want to work outside of Manchester and explore new environments. Maybe it’s a plea for assistance, but I just needed to escape for a while and see what emerged.” With her usual approach of dedicating three years to an album’s production, she reflects on living and breathing the creative process in her nearby studio, but acknowledges, “Perhaps I needed some support this time.”
The inspiration for the title came from a search for happiness in hidden places, says the artist. She reflects on how last year, during difficult times, she found herself frequently gazing out the window in the morning at birds in the trees. This focus on nature’s simple elements, like patterns or signs of contentment, reminded her of the importance of still living and appreciating these things. According to Weaver, the outcome of this process is more candid and bare, although the interpretation is subjective. She intentionally “scrambled” her lyrics by manipulating words in text documents and using Google Translate multiple times – first to a foreign language, then back to English – until they resembled subtitles in a French film, revealing that the meaning may not be what it seems on the surface.
She advises against writing too much personal information about yourself. She prefers to focus on creating imaginative scenarios and characters and adding details to bring them to life.
This is another addition to what one reviewer described as Weaver’s “completely self-contained” realm. While her music has occasionally crossed paths with mainstream artists, such as Coldplay sampling her song Silver Chord on their album Ghost Stories, her music and existence seem to primarily exist within their own separate universe. The perception of her being an artist on the periphery is reinforced by the fact that she operates as a self-sufficient entity, even driving herself and her band to performances, even if it means a 12-hour journey along the west coast of the US, and speaking out about the negative impact of Brexit on underground musicians’ ability to tour in Europe.
Revised: In addition to being signed to Fire, she also has her own record label, Bird, which focuses on promoting female artists. Some of these artists, who were previously overlooked, were discovered by Weaver. During Jarvis Cocker’s Meltdown festival in 2007, she organized an evening dedicated to “the Lost Ladies of Folk”, including lesser-known singer-songwriters from the late 60s such as Bonnie Dobson, Wendy Flower, and Susan Christie, as well as Cate Le Bon and Weaver (who was heavily pregnant at the time). Weaver explains that the inspiration for starting her label came from noticing how many of her female friends were dropping out of the music industry while her male peers seemed to be thriving. She is determined to keep the music going and succeed.
The reason for this approach can be attributed to Weaver’s early experiences in her career, which included a string of disappointments, tragedies, and difficult interactions with the music industry. Her first band, the Britpop-inspired Kill Laura, faced challenges with a major label. When the band broke up, Weaver signed as a solo artist with Rob Gretton’s label, but unfortunately, Gretton passed away suddenly before her album was released. She was later offered a solo deal with a major label, but it was ultimately rescinded just as she was preparing to perform a showcase for them. It turned out that the label’s representatives were not even present, as they had deemed the situation “too awkward.”
In the early 2000s, she became the lead singer of the band Misty Dixon, which had a mixture of psychedelic and folk influences. The band was part of a group of artists in Manchester who were associated with the Twisted Nerve label, founded by Badly Drawn Boy and Andy Votel, who was not only a musician and DJ, but also a graphic designer and Weaver’s partner. As the band was working on their first album, guitarist Dave Tyack disappeared while on a hiking trip in Corsica. The band searched for him, driving around in a Twingo rental car, putting up posters, talking to the police, and going into bars in remote villages. The bars were filled with rough-looking men wearing gold necklaces with machine guns hanging from them. Whenever they explained their purpose, one man at the end of the bar would start laughing, making it feel like a scene from a movie. Despite their efforts, they held onto hope that Tyack was still alive, as he was only in his early 20s and they had just seen him at a wedding before his trip. Unfortunately, Tyack’s remains were found in 2004 and it was determined that he had fallen to his death.
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After parting ways with her band, Weaver pursued her own musical path and gained recognition for her 2010 album The Fallen By Watchbird, which was accompanied by a book of fairytales written by Weaver herself. Her breakthrough as an indie artist came with the release of The Silver Globe in 2014, a synth-heavy album with a cosmic and driving sound that Weaver describes as a return to the music of her youth. Growing up in Widnes, Weaver had to actively seek out individuals who shared her musical interests, such as hippies, bikers, punks, and goths. She was particularly influenced by bands like Gong, the Pink Fairies, and Hawkwind, and even got involved in the free festival movement, driving in a rundown car to the Lake District with fellow festival-goers living in double-decker buses. While this experience had its beautiful and idealistic moments, the reality of living in such conditions was often harsh.
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During a recent holiday, Weaver was reminded of her childhood in Widnes while reading about the history of metal. She recalled the first single she purchased as being Iron Maiden’s Run to the Hills, although she believes her second was by Kim Wilde. In her teenage years, she was part of a group of friends who were into metal and would attend concerts by bands like Slayer and Metallica together. Lately, she has been contemplating creating a heavy metal album but doubts her ability to do all the complex guitar techniques, like shredding.
Prior to her upcoming project, she must devise a plan for showcasing Love in Constant Spectacle live. She enjoys the post-production elements and putting thought into costumes, as well as collaborating with video artists. In the past, she has taken on unique gigs, such as performing 2019’s Loops in the Secret Society entirely on her own. This involved cutting vinyl dubplates, playing them on a turntable, and improvising on a series of synthesizers, similar to Rick Wakeman. However, Love in Constant Spectacle has a distinctive sound, not reminiscent of atmospheric or space rock.
However, she has a few notions resembling those of Jane Weaver, which stem from her recent journey down the rabbit hole. “I have noticed that many of these modern Christian churches in the US incorporate impressive light displays, using LED technology. It seems to be quite popular over there: extravagant light shows in places of worship.”
It appears as though she is speaking her thoughts aloud. “That could also be easily transported by placing it in the van. Perhaps I should consider doing that.”
Source: theguardian.com
