Keep On Burning: Edwyn Collins on his fearless new LP

Edwyn Collins is perched at the recording desk of his west London studio. His new album, Understated, is about to be released, eleven tracks of storming Northern Soul refracted through the prism of punk. The album positively purrs with brio and panache, worthy of a man with Collins’ often ramshackle yet exhilarating career, “31 years in rock and roll,” as he croons on the album. And this confidence is evident in the man sitting across from me; despite his horrific health shocks – a brain haemorrhage in 2005 massively affected his main motor skills resulting in a lengthy rehabilitation period – Collins proudly sings me through as much of the album as possible and kindly dismisses his redoubtable wife Grace Maxwell in her offer to assist with the interview. Collins is not so much defiant in the face of adversity as thoroughly thriving.

This flourishing of activity is not simply down to his new album. Collins is at the helm of AED Records and a much in-demand producer – recently working on Charlie Boyer and the Voyeurs’ debut album Clarietta – and has been the subject of a recent documentary entitled In Your Voice, In Your Heart, focusing on the gradual re-emergence of his identity through music. “It feels great having so much at the moment,” he starts. “Mind you, I’m tired, but what can I say? The video stuff with Ed [Lovelace] is really good and, along with Seb [Lewsley, Collins’ engineer], we worked on the Charlie Boyer album which sounds a bit like the Velvet Underground. It's coming out on Heavenly Records and is very good as well. And with the record label, it just seems to make sense, although Grace and Susan are more in control than me! [laughs]. I did another documentary maybe five years ago [Home Again] and this was when I wasn’t in control at all, stuttering and for six months in the hospital all I could say was ‘yes,’ ‘no’ and ‘the possibilities are endless.’ Slowly I recovered and I wanted to show people about the effects of having a stroke, having to deal with it and how it is difficult for me to communicate. And the language issues I struggle with a bit still. But my singing is okay, my speech is just a bit slow.”

The new album is a heady miscellany of influences and to these ears, takes its cue from Orange Juice’s cover of Vic Godard's Holiday Hymn, a stomping nouveau Northern Soul number. But Collins is quick to refute that Understated is rooted firmly in the past. “I do like Northern Soul a lot, along with garage bands – The Seeds – along with soul and indie. Back then, in the Orange Juice days, I was strictly punk… well, maybe a bit reticent. I liked certain things: Subway Sect, Buzzcocks, Sex Pistols… and that was it! Nowadays, I like everything. The 60s, for me, is a great time. The 70s [pauses]… not bad. But the 80s? Shit! [laughs!] But it’s getting good again, and I’m looking forward actually. I enjoyed producing The Cribs a few years ago, that sounded amazing." 

The on-going rehabilitation of Collins has seen his mobility gradually improve and on Understated, he has taken a considerably more hands-on role in the production and performing of the songs. “I work with Seb closely but on [opening track] Dilemma [breaks into the first verse], I did the trumpets, the harmonies with Sean [Read] the keyboard player – he said ‘Ah, that's good!’ and then played it. But I do it all with Seb and he handles the new recording desk, I use it occasionally. And for the first time ever, after my stroke, I played Memphis Chords on 31 Years. I can play keyboards no problem at all but just with my left hand. And harmonica.” Still a multi-instrumentalist in the studio, then? “Yeah, I bet!” he laughs. “Memphis Chords I can manage… just about! But solos are difficult. I can play rhythm but solos are strictly a no-no.”

Understated's lyrical content is undeniably buoyant, nay ebullient. Rather than ruminating on experiences gone by, Collins appears to be clearing the way for his next step. “The album is upbeat,” he admits. “It's not sad music. I wanted it to be fast as music can be too slow nowadays, too ponderous. But each to their own. It’s very important to me that it’s got to be positive. I’m pushing on and it’s invigorating: the chance to sing and there has to be this positive vibe. And it is direct and to the point, I don't know any other way!”

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"I'm pushing on and it's invigorating" – Edwyn Collins

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Despite Collins’ difficulty with language, his lyricism is as eloquent as ever; honesty and humour muscle up to artistic expression. A sentiment in Down The Line, ‘This abstract sense of being, it’s over now,’ is ripe for interpretation. “By abstract, I mean non-specific, it’s not clear and it is a good line,” Collins agrees, “It means something to me, having had a stroke to deal with and having a point of view, yet I’m struggling to find the words and right sentences and to find a way forward from my position. It’s an attempt to come to terms with my stroke and the fact that a large percentage don't survive.”

However, he does use the album to reflect on his early years with Orange Juice, the Nu-Sonics and even his time as a graphic illustrator for the Glasgow Parks Department. “[The song] 31 Years goes back to Orange Juice’s first single Falling and Laughing [again, Edwyn sings us the initial verse]. So that’s a long time! But in 31 Years, I’m reflecting but by the last chorus I’m happy and carrying on with the future. And two years ago, I did the font for this album. It takes a long time.” He laughs emphatically on recalling the pre-fame days. “When I was 19, up in Glasgow, I was working in the Parks Department, drawing kingfishers, squirrels, buildings. I was quite shy and I wanted to be in Orange Juice. I dobbed off work several times! I remember giving a talk to all these school children who were taken to see oak trees and sycamores and they asked me ‘Sir, are you a punk?’ and I said ‘Yes, I’m nature’s punk!’ It’s nonsense really, what a joke!”

At that time, Collins must never have imagined that his career would have such indefatigable longevity. “No, never.” In fact, he’s quite humble about his formative years as a musician. “Originally, it was the Nu-Sonics back in Glasgow but the songs weren’t any good, I was seventeen. But gradually, I wrote Falling and Laughing, and now, there’s a good song! The lyrics are, to me, reflective of me. The pleasure and the pain support the contrast in my life.”

Over thirty years on, Collins’ critical stock is as high as ever. Yet he doesn’t long for the commercial peaks of the mid-90s and A Girl Like You. “Around then, I was all around the world, for two years and six months. I was so tired. Hong Kong, Singapore, Japan, Europe, America… I was shattered by the end of things. But now, live performances are fine. Except, for example, a song like Ghost of a Chance, it’s terrible singing it again and analysing all the words. But I'll get it in the end.”

Collins has been resident in London since the early 80s and has worked from his West Heath studios since the 90s. However, all that is about to change soon as himself and Grace are on the verge of moving back to his ancestral home of Helmsdale, Sutherland. His grandfather was a stonemason who went to America in the 1880s to make his fortune. On his return, he built the main part of a cottage which Collins restored some years ago. “It’s right on top of the world!” Collins says proudly. “I own the place, it’s two hundred years old, a croft. Grace is eager to move there. And this studio is closing down, just another year to go. I’m quite sad really but it has to be done; I'm carrying on the tradition [in moving back to Helmsdale]. And we will have a studio there, two houses combined, one for domestic and one for rock ’n’ roll.”

Domestic and rock ’n’ roll. Pleasure and pain. Northern Soul and punk. There may be contradictions at the heart of Edwyn Collins, but listening to Understated it’s fearlessness and fervour all the way.