Releasing one album in 1989 ‘Dum-Dum’ before disbanding, the Scottish outfit could have easily disappeared off the face of this planet, never to be seen again - an exit as swift as their entrance. However, here we are twenty plus years on and we see a release of their rather excellent second LP ‘Sex With an X’ and an accompanying worldwide tour. It’s been a strange journey for this band, but we’re sure glad to have them back.
If you don’t know, although I’m sure you do by now, they were one of Kurt Cobain’s favourite bands, their debut EP ‘Son of a Gun’ he cited as his fourth favourite album of all time (his top 50 can be found in his published journals). Nirvana covered Son of a Gun, Molly’s Lips (both on ‘Insecticide’) and Jesus Don’t Want Me For a Sunbeam for their MTV unplugged album. This resulted in a brief Vaselines reformation in 1990 to support Nirvana, and a Sub Pop issue of ‘The Complete History of the Vaselines’ in 1992. Such was the extent of Kurt’s fondness for the band that he named his daughter Frances after singer Frances McKee. Whilst it’s fair to say the Vaselines’ acclaim hinges somewhat Kurt and Nirvana’s involvement, there is no denying the strength and youthful exuberance that oozes from the songs themselves.
The Vaselines’ charm lies in the synergy between the two members, their voices merging into a warm, luscious hum, honey sweet and brash in equal measure. Eugene’s baritone juxtaposed with the child-like pitch of Frances should be a wailing mass of horridness on paper, but they fall into one another seamlessly. I soon learn that their relationship in life mirrors that of their voices.
I sit down with the pair at the Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, a few dates into their tour and shortly before they are due on stage. Sadly, the setting of rowdy drinkers and pool players meant a rough recording of the interview, and so there is not as much dialogue in here as I would have liked to include.
Frances sips from a small medicinal paper cup filled with a sickly looking green ooze. For a second I think it’s methadone and am somewhat perplexed at her openness in tossing it back in public, but I soon realise it’s more likely some wheat grass concoction, as she frequently nips off to fill it up, looking radiant and almost bouncing as she walks (heroin addicts, from what I’ve experienced, don’t tend to bounce so much as bumble). Eugene is a stern, serious looking man, but warm and funny with it. His hair may be somewhat thinner and greyer than it used to, but he has acquired a sense of elder statesman-like flair along with it.
So, the album has been met with a strong reception thus far, how have they been taking it? “Yeah, it’s great, we’re pleased with it… but, I mean, it’s out of our hands now, we’ve done our part… do you like it?” Some such situations would lead to a polite smile and a faux-enthusiastic nod, however I like the record very much, so I am able to genuinely affirm this to them. After almost twenty years apart, bar a couple of reform tours, what is it like to be back together again? A strange feeling? “Well, we’ve got restraining orders on each other!” jokes Frances, “it was quite easy really once we got going” adds Eugene.
Soon their relationship becomes apparent - brother-sisterly in some sense. Frances is enthusiastic, giddy and responds quickly, whereas Eugene counterbalances this - contemplative and slow-talking, with a sense of quiet authority. Frances will sometimes quickly respond to a question with an earnest, child-like naivety, and Eugene will give an ever so disapproving look, his own response often acting as justification for Frances’. It’s not in the least bit forced or uncomfortable, but sweet and charming.
With an added professionalism to their recent songwriting, how have they retained that sweet, youthfulness without it sounding saccharine or contrived? “It’s just a natural occurrence, as we still write like that, we keep it light” says Eugene, “it should be fun, you know? There are enough great bands out there doing serious stuff, which I love, but it’s not what we do” is Frances’ response. Interestingly, many of the bands regarded as ‘twee’ that have spawned post-‘Dum-Dum’, citing The Vaselines as a key influence, hold little meaning to the two, “we don’t really feel a part of that at all. It’s not us, we don’t see ourselves as ‘twee’, we never have and never will.” Do any of the bands within that genre hold any interest? “Not really, no.” This is why The Vaselines work so well, they fundamentally write rock songs, which in turn acquire their sweetness through the people who wrote them, and the way they are sung - not because the band wanted to write sickly ‘twee’ songs - and it’s this unintentional aspect that lets them retain their charm to this day.
The inevitable Nirvana topic comes up: is this something they are sick of yet? “Not at all, it’s still a compliment. We have to accept that we would have been nothing without Nirvana. We would have drifted off into obscurity like many other bands of our time if it wasn’t for them.” Do they have a favourite of the songs Nirvana covered? “I wish they hadn’t done Son of a Gun” quips Frances, quick as a flash (in reference to her own song, not Nirvana‘s version), “I hate that song! Well, I used to hate it, it’s grown on me now. But I hated it for a long time… I’m not that keen on Molly’s Lips either,” this is one of the moments Eugene quietly looks over, as though he is rolling his eyes in his head, but not wanting to display it. “I really like their version of Jesus Don’t Want Me For a Sunbeam. I first heard that version when I saw it on TV, after he had died. It was actually really moving, I felt quite emotional”.
Lastly, a topical question in regard to their song I Hate the ‘80s, I ask them, what was the shittest part of the ‘80s? “Going out with Eugene!” comes the inevitable joke from Frances. “Erm… so many things”, “unemployment, my father being unemployed” adds Eugene. “The divide between the rich and the poor became so large, the miners’ strikes, everyone was voting Tory and they were just shitting on the working class. I mean we weren’t really politically minded, but it’s not politics when it’s your day to day life”. So, in many ways The Vaselines were their own antidote to the ‘80s, a means of mental escapism while they were geographically confined to a place and time that rejected and repulsed them.
Talking to them both was a joy, their back and forth banter and quirky relationship providing a constant sense of enjoyment. When they ask what year I was born in, when discussing the ‘80s, Frances quips “oh, you look older than that”, “you’re meant to say people look younger” says the older brother figure of Eugene. This dynamic extends to their onstage performance tonight as Frances’ banter runs wild and Eugene attempts to retain a balance and just play the songs.
During one of her speak-before-she-thinks moments, Frances ever so slightly dismisses a current Sub Pop label-mate as a bit crap, then politely requests afterwards that I leave it out of the interview. I jokingly suggest, well I was going to run with the title ‘so-and-so are shit’. She chuckles before bouncing back, well it should read ‘so-and-so are fucking shit’ before toddling off to the dressing room.