Paul Buchanan: Still in The Nile

The Skinny was honoured to catch up with the loquacious Blue Nile founder Paul Buchanan in advance of his forthcoming mini-tour.

So, how does it feel to be back on the road?

"Well, you know (laughs) all things are comparative. I did tell one of my neighbours we had turned into a hard working rock 'n roll band all of a sudden."

It's essentially a Blue Nile set, but you're not calling it that. How come?

"There's nothing much to it to be honest. I hadn't spoken to the other two remaining in depth about it. We were asked to play a few gigs. I was fairly uncertain what they wanted to do at the time. It was suggested that maybe I do it under my own steam and I thought 'maybe that'll be fun, maybe it will take the weight off a little bit.' So I said yes. When I saw the gig announcement in the newspaper [billed as a Paul Buchanan set], I realised what I had assented to. I don't know what we'll do about that in the future, but for the moment that's how it is."

So you're easing yourself back into the industry. Does the paraphernalia of that get you down, doing interviews like this for example?

"Well, it's not like I'm J-Lo. I won't be expecting to show up on Jonathan Ross. I just treat these things as a conversation. Everybody on the scene is just doing their job. Because the bottom line is you need everybody, and they're all in it together so there's no point being a prick about it."

The Blue Nile have never been renowned for their prolific output, discarding hundreds of songs for not being good enough. Is perfection something that can actually be achieved, or is it just worthwhile striving towards it?

"I think it's a combination of things. I said to a journalist that I know, who was obliged to ask me the same question, 'you know perfectly well that to some extent what we're trying to do is look at the texture of things, the import of things. Their language and structure.' That's a great part about what's enjoyable about it as work. There's a sort of 'Finnegan's Wake' element to it."

You've described your songwriting technique as being a 'documentary of the imagination'. Pardon me?

"It's probably just a romantic notion on my part. It's where the resonance lies I think. So, to take a random example, there's a song called Saturday Night. It's really about the fact that it doesn't really matter what your day job is, if you're waiting outside a cinema to meet your girlfriend, that's your movie. It's just as valid as anybody else's movie. You don't need a kind of third party injection of fake glamour, it won't last and it won't work. I think the authenticity of people's lives is paramount and we were just drawing from our own lives. There isn't any one magic kingdom."

The ambient electronica for which you're most heavily associated; is it difficult to keep going in that vein now that it proliferates, and did you take a swing towards the acoustic when you noticed this trend?

"I think actually the reverse is true insofar as when we started to make the third record (1996's 'Peace At Last') which heavily featured acoustic guitar, part of the reason we did it, and bear in mind I'm talking about the beginning of the gestation period, so in the very early nineties, when we started to do that everybody was doing exactly the opposite. There wasn't such a proliferation of singer/songwriters. I think we were slightly trying to correct the perception that we were some sort of studious band and the exactitude of 'Hats' was the point of our being. It wasn't the point so there was an element of us that wanted to upset that apple cart as far as people's perceptions of us are concerned."

What music does someone like yourself look to for inspiration/relaxation?

"To be honest I read more books than I listen to music. I actually find that radio can be difficult to listen to at times. It just doesn't tend to coincide with my frame of mind, which probably explains why I have difficulty getting songs on the radio. What I'm exposed to by and large is fairly mainstream, what might crop up if I watch tv or listen to radio for an hour. The last record I felt something strong for was by the Arcade Fire ('Funeral'). I thought there was something vital about it, it didn't sound like a career move. It doesn't really matter what particular artist affects me or what artist affects you, the thing we have in common is that music can still somehow express the inevitable. If it makes you feel like dancing on your coffee table that's fine, if it makes you feel like lying down in a dark room that's fine too."

Why has airplay been difficult to come by, when hundreds of column inches by devoted journalists have been written about your influence?

"Not for me to comment, but I would perhaps observe that the underlying brief is different for print than it is for radio. I think with journalism, there's an assumption that print media are partly there to inform. Whereas I think that to some extent, especially with the commercialisation of radio their twin brief is to a) entertain and b) not lose an audience. They've got a different gig. Newspapers have more time and space to give you, they're not going to risk interrupting the mood on radio. I don't think that radio has been harsh on us. I've got no complaints whatsoever. I mean, I don't want to get up every morning and listen to a Blue Nile record (laugh). You only wear hats in the winter, you don't wear them in the summer. I completely understand."

Given your ambiguous treatment by the record industry, what advice would you have for newcomers to the scene?

"I was hoping that someone who was starting out might have some words of innocence and wisdom for me. I think you just muddle along, you need a great deal of good luck. In common with everybody else in life, sometimes things didn't go exactly as we would have liked them but again, over the course, you're looking at your life and thinking 'I didn't get blown up today, I've got enough to eat' so what's the justification for whining because the record company did XYZ. It's pointless, sort of inhuman I think. I got to make records, and that's a blessing."

What's the best bit of that process been?

"Making the records, doing the work. Whether that's the moment in the studio when the track clicks into place, or playing live, obviously it's kind of like riding a horse. Sometimes you just focus on staying on the horse, and other bits you're looking around thinking, 'this is fantastic I'm just going to jump right over that fence.' Those are easily the best bits."

Obvious question alert! How long for the next record then?

"I ask myself the same thing every time. But I've been working away, writing and discarding songs pretty much since the last record, so it's a bit of a process. I'll go into a room and start playing, and some of the ones we thought were dead certs won't work and vice versa. I don't think it'll be too long. In my fantasy world it'll be next year (and then a caveat) – late next year will be the soonest. I had a bit of a change in thinking, and honestly, I've spent so long in recording studios that I really don't want to go back in for a long time. I would like to make a record that was more about capturing the moment. I think the tracks we recorded were almost always fundamentally based on us playing in a room together. That's good when we do that, then translate that, relocate and go into a studio and put it all together. But you get deeply involved in the process. You've got all these tracks available and you could do this, and you might do that and so forth. And as I say, in the last couple of years, my experiences of being in front of audiences in various situations has been the moment that interests me artistically. To be able to render something in a fairly straightforward manner and to record that moment is what I'm looking for."