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Born in 1958 in Penny Lane, Liverpool, Ian Broudie’s first concert was at the Liverpool Empire where he saw the Beatles when he was six years old. During his teenage years, he was a member of the punk band Big In Japan with Holly Johnson and Bill Drummond from the KLF. He later became a successful record producer, working with bands such as Echo and the Bunnymen, the Fall, Alison Moyet, Texas, and the Coral. Broudie began recording as a solo artist under the name Lightning Seeds in 1989 and has released seven albums to date. His song “Three Lions,” which was released in 1996 for the UEFA European Championship, has reached No. 1 on three separate occasions. Broudie recently published his memoir, “Tomorrow’s Here Today,” and the Lightning Seeds will embark on a 35th anniversary tour next summer.
How did you find your place in the flamboyant post-punk scene in Liverpool, despite the tenderness, melancholy, and heartfelt nature of your songs?
As a child, I stood out in my jumper and NHS glasses among the vibrant bursts of color. The area around Mathew Street in Liverpool had a feral and wild atmosphere, as it was quite run-down. In 1976, the opening of Ken Campbell’s Illuminatus! trilogy brought even more music, theatre, and art to the area, making me feel like I was in a Wonderland. Being someone who always felt like an outsider, I found comfort in being surrounded by other misfits. Even though some of these individuals, such as Holly, Bill, and Pete Burns, were larger-than-life characters, I strangely felt like I belonged.
What was the Beatles’ demeanor in 1964?
The only thing I recall is the noise of the girls screaming, me in tears, and covering my ears with my fingers.
Following the success of their debut single “Pure” reaching the Top 30 in the US, you were approached to establish a record label in the US. You recommended that they sign Pulp and Oasis, but unfortunately, this suggestion was not acted upon. Looking back, how do you view the Britpop era?
I have come to understand that the music industry has crafted a desirable world that people aspire to be a part of, which is thrilling. This was evident during the Britpop era, similar to the phenomenon of punk rock – when I saw the Sex Pistols, they were talented but not quite as depicted in the media. However, that is not an issue. It’s like watching a Marvel movie and temporarily ignoring reality. We know the characters can’t actually fly, but we still enjoy the spectacle.
What was your experience with Britpop?
It’s strange. I compare it to being on a train from Liverpool to London, where at one point you’re traveling alongside the motorway and watching the cars zoom by. I felt like I was parallel to Britpop, rather than a part of it. The other bands were on a completely separate path.
Your paternal grandfather was a Latvian Jew who fled Cossack violence and ended up in Liverpool by accident, thinking he’d been dropped off in New York. You received antisemitic abuse in the punk years. With your book published during the current Israel-Hamas war, how does it feel to think about that personal history?
As a scouser, I do not personally feel a strong connection to the current situation. However, like everyone else, I am deeply affected by how terrible it is. The images are very distressing to see. In recent years, there have been many things, such as the impact of Brexit, that make me feel like we are in a time where people have no control. This is something I have never experienced before in my life. Despite this, I am fortunate to be from Liverpool, where the Chinese community and Ukrainian taxi drivers are proud to be considered scousers. Liverpool is a diverse and welcoming place.
How do you feel about the concept of English nationalism, as depicted by historians in the Three Lions symbolizing a moment of England’s reconnection with its identity?
The Football Association (FA) has never been a fan of the song “Three Lions” because it focuses on England’s losses. It highlights the idea that losing is a part of being a fan, which goes against the popular “lad culture” that was prevalent at the time. The line “football’s coming home” was a nod to the Euro slogan, which emphasized the sport’s origins rather than any trophy returning. Personally, I have had mixed feelings about the song, but I have come to terms with it. However, the FA still does not approve of it and is attempting to replace it with the song “Sweet Caroline” as England’s anthem.
The English soccer team also did not appreciate the song.
No, but it was about how they never won! It was a bit awkward playing it back to them – we hadn’t thought that through [laughs]. But Terry Venables liked it. I remember him jangling his keys along to it, smiling: “It’s a proper key-tapper, Ian.”
Do you possess any unexpected role models?
Orson Welles is a captivating figure and I enjoy watching his interviews on YouTube. During one interview, he was questioned about whether he had ever given a friend a role in one of his films and if it had been successful. He responded with a resounding “never,” despite having done so multiple times. When asked why, he stated that he prioritizes people and friendship over art. This is a valuable principle to uphold.
In the early 2000s, you faced numerous challenges including a divorce and the loss of four family members, including both of your parents, your sister who battled a brain tumor, and your brother who tragically took his own life. Was there anything that provided support during this difficult period?
I used to believe that focusing on music was a waste of my life. Instead of worrying about the perfect drum sound, I should have been out experiencing life. However, I eventually came to understand that making music is where I find true happiness. Whether people appreciate it or not, I enjoy collaborating, jamming with friends, and sharing my songs. Performing live also holds a special place in my heart because each night I get to connect with a unique audience in a new location. This allows my songs to come to life in various ways.
Your child, Riley, was only a toddler when you wrote your 1992 hit, The Life Of Riley, which is now being managed by him and is also your bandmate. This must hold a special significance for you.
It is. When I’m singing that song, and he’s next to me on the stage, it’s just something else. Every time.
Source: theguardian.com
