Richard Youngs is an English experimental artist based in Glasgow.
David Keenan is a Scottish writer and the former co-owner of Volcanic Tongue, a record shop, distribution company, and record label he ran with the musician/artist Heather Leigh in Glasgow; Richard Youngs is an English experimental artist based in Glasgow. David just put out Volcanic Tongue: A Time-Travelling Evangelist’s Guide to Late 20th Century Underground Music, the first collection of his music writings, with an accompanying compilation. To celebrate, David and Richard got on the phone to catch up about it all.
— Annie Fell, Editor-in-chief, Talkhouse Music
Richard Youngs: How did we meet?
David Keenan: You share your memory of it first.
Richard: Yeah, and then you can correct me. So, I’d been living in Glasgow for a while. In that time, I’d released records — it was probably four or five years I’d been in Glasgow — but I’d never played a show. And some friends of friends were in a band called Ganger, and I got asked to support them. It was in the basement of the old 13th Note on Glassford Street, I think. I can’t even remember what I did as a support, but I remember you coming up afterwards — so that’s a good sign, isn’t it? You were more memorable than my music.
David: [Laughs.]
Richard: You came up afterwards and you said something like, “Are you the Richard Youngs?” Which seemed preposterous, because I’m just a guy. But it turned out, I think you had Ceausescu. I think you had bought stuff off Forced Exposure, so you kind of knew what I was about. And that’s how we met.
David: I think that’s all correct. The only thing I could add is that I’m pretty sure you were playing electric guitar and some vocals. That was what the set was. And, yeah, I definitely had Ceausescu. I think actually got it maybe at Rough Trade, and I was like Oh, my god. Because you couldn’t find your records — certainly in the UK, it was quite hard to get them. It seemed easier in the States, because Forced Exposure were so involved.
Richard: Well, they distributed us. They’re the only people who took any of our records.
David: Wow. So you had no UK distribution at all?
Richard: Other than where I lived. You know, if someone wrote to me… but no one was writing to me. [Laughs.] Actually, once we got the reviews in Forced Exposure, we did get some people writing. But up to that point, they were just sitting around.
David: So, the reason I went — I remember I saw the poster, it was Ganger, Richard Youngs, and somebody else. It was a three man bill, because you were in the middle. But I remember when I saw the name Richard Youngs, I did think to myself, Can that be the Richard Youngs? Or was it just a random guy called Richard Youngs?
Richard: There are several of us, I’m sure.
David: Yeah. So I thought about Ganger — a little bit more experimental, post-rock-y — so maybe that could well be the Richard Youngs. Even when I saw you, I still had to check.
Richard: Because you didn’t know what it looked like, because my photo wasn’t about.
David: Yeah, I had no idea. So I had to work out if that was you. And that was a great thing for me as well, because I was really trying hard to get a lot of those underground LPs that were written about in things like Forced Exposure. And I couldn’t get any, but you had a whole bunch. I remember buying a whole bunch of really cool LPs off you.
Richard: Yeah, I think I needed to downsize a bit, I was living in a very small space. One thing I remember was when we met, you did ask if I was on tour, and then I said, “No, I live here.” [Laughs.]
David: [Laughs.] Well, I was a total space cadet. I was so marginalized from it all. So I think I just imagined a vast underground scene…
Richard: Yeah, same. Even though I’d lived in Nottingham for a while and been part of the A Band, it just seemed really isolated, because no one else in Nottingham was really doing that though. Although there were lots of people who passed through, it wasn’t like there were lots of bands like that.
David: How did you get into weirdo music in the first place? I’m calling it “weirdo music”…
Richard: It’s a terrible term, but I know what you mean. Probably started quite young. I remember hearing the first two Pink Floyd singles and the middle section of “See Emily Play,” which was just sort of a feedbacking guitar, no discernible real tune at that point, was the bit I found really exciting. And that probably got me interested. I mean, obviously it’s not something I could have replicated, I didn’t have the technology. Then at some point, I probably saw some Open University programmes about things like Stockhausen and musique concrète. You had to get up at six in the morning to see these things. There was John Peel as well, which probably was from about age 11 onwards. You know, you’d listen to it under the sheets because it was past your bedtime. Hearing early Public Image and Cabaret Voltaire, things like that, on John Peel — that did it for me. So it was definitely a process. But there were certain things which were big moments.
David: Am I wrong about this? You didn’t really seem to want to form a band. You were always more solo, experimental, or doing duo stuff. You never tried to form a rock band after Pink Floyd?
Richard: No, you’re right. I mean, I was in a few bands as a teenager, but there was never enough people interested in experimental music to make the bands experimental. So they were more like teenage new wave bands. Growing up in a small town, there was really only one other person who was into this kind of music, so we formed a duo. You sort of bump into lone individuals who are also into it, so you form duos. And when they’re not around, you’ve got to do it yourself, so you’re a solo artist.
David: “Do it yourself” was such a big thing with you early on. Where did you get the idea that you could put out a record yourself? Because that’s quite a big step.
Richard: I mean, originally it was cassettes, because people were putting out cassettes. Records… it just seemed possible because you’d see adverts in the back of magazines about getting records pressed up.
David: That you’d send away someplace.
Richard: Yeah. Actually, No Fans records were, I think, pressed at a classical music press in Hungary, but they were done through a broker in London. Again, it was an advert in the back of a magazine. You sent this guy in London the tapes and then he had a connection in Hungary where all the production was done, and possibly the sleeves were printed elsewhere. It seemed to be about a month turnaround, and it was very exciting. You’d sent these tapes and a bit of artwork into nowhere, and they’d come back fully formed.
David: When did you become aware that there was this whole underground music scene across the world, that maybe had vague things in common with what you and Simon [Wickham-Smith] were doing.
Richard: Reading Forced Exposure. Do you remember reading Forced Exposure and thinking, What does this music sound like? The way those reviews were written was just so exciting. You’d read a review of a Keiji Haino record… It was like another world. And it wasn’t really clear how you’d access it. There were possibly addresses you could write off to. Was Forced Exposure your first contact with that kind of writing?
David: It was one of the big ones. I mean, another magazine was Chemical Imbalance, Mike McGonigal’s magazine.
Richard: Oh, yes.
David: That was quite a big one for me early on. And I liked that because he also did literature, film art. But I think you’re right about Forced Exposure. When you would get a copy of that you would think, Fuck me, I’ve heard of literally nothing in this entire magazine.
Richard: And it all sounds brilliant.
David: It all sounds amazing.
Richard: The taste was excellent. That was a wildly exciting time. I think it was doubly exciting because you couldn’t actually hear the things initially.
David: That’s the big thing for me — again, growing up in the age of the music press as we both did, you were more likely to read about something before you heard it. So you’d have that fantasy idea of what a lot of this music might live up to. It certainly influenced me as a writer.
Richard: Yeah, in my mind I have a sound of all the different bands [you wrote about in Volcanic Tongue] — I could sort of hear them in my head reading the book.
David: Yeah, it’s not really critical writing, because it’s not critiquing. It’s writing with the same kind of energy and velocity and excitement as the music itself.
Richard: Yeah, I think we’ve spoken about that before. It’s sort of like just being with the music and, at that moment, articulating what it is.
David: Did reading about music have an influence on you making music?
Richard: My memory is poor, but I could imagine reading a review and thinking, I’m going to make music that sounds like that.
David: Yeah. It’s funny, I think that’s almost the story of post-punk and why it was so experimental and DIY — I wonder if a lot of people read about the Sex Pistols were like, “Oh, my god, this is a band that can’t play their instruments but are making records!” Of course, when you eventually hear the Sex Pistols, they can play their instruments. But all these kids took them at their word and then outstripped them just by reading about them.
Richard: I don’t know about that, because everyone heard the Sex Pistols, surely.
David: I guess eventually when they were on the radio and stuff. But when news was first circulating…
Richard: Yes, absolutely. Then there was the spirit of, “Hey, you can just do this.” “Oh, wow. I can do it. I’ll do it then. Sounds great.” It’s like a permission thing.
David: Yeah, totally. So, you ended up in Glasgow, which is obviously how we met. Why?
Richard: Because of a relationship. My now wife is from here. So I’ve lived here for over 30 years.
David: Wow. Do you consider yourself a Glaswegian?
Richard: It’s a big ask, isn’t it? [Laughs.] With my accent… I don’t know if I could really ever. I mean, maybe honorary.
David: Honestly, I think you can become a Glaswegian quite quickly. It’s one of these cities that is very welcoming.
Richard: Oh, totally. It was incredibly friendly, and I feel very at home here.
David: I think it’s a good place to be based if you’re trying to make art, because it’s a place you can survive without really having to work yourself to the bone.
Richard: Oh, yeah. God help you if you lived in London.
David: I really wonder now how feasible it is to even try and make the sort of art, music, literature that we were making when we were younger. I mean, in one sense, we were talking about that sense of isolation, which was true. It was harder to find like-minded people. Having social media, it’s much easier now. But at the time… One thing that’s missing, I sometimes think, is the sense of the quest of having to go out there and find it yourself and make these connections. I don’t think I would have been so excited by that pile of records that I bought from you.
Richard: You’d probably have checked them out on YouTube months ago.
David: Yeah. But you had to wait until the moment was right before that stuff sort of appeared in front of you. I remember when I went into Rough Trade, and they actually had a P.S.F. section. I mean, I could not believe it.
Richard: I think also it was such a major investment getting, say, a P.S.F. record that even if you weren’t totally won over by it to begin with, you worked at it. You didn’t really have the option to just dismiss it. And like you said, the sort of quest — it stretched over a long period of time as well, so you were paying attention to things and letting things percolate, and you changed with the things as well.
David: Can you listen back to [your own music] objectively? Can you ever hear a record and say, “Oh, wow, that’s pretty good, it doesn’t even feel like me”?
Richard: I can hear something I’ve done and not remember doing it. And sometimes, I can listen to something and think, Oh, that’s alright. I don’t know if I’ve ever listened to something I’ve done like, My god, that’s just so good. [Laughs.] Because I think at some point, you get this reflection that it’s you, and then the imposter syndrome kicks in, and I have this weird relationship to it. Do you ever read your stuff?
David: Yeah, I do, actually.
Richard: Well, obviously at public readings, I guess you’d have to.
David: Yeah. But also, sometimes I just reread the book because I find it quite hard to remember. I feel like when I’m writing the book, I’m not really very conscious. And so and sometimes I need to read it back a few times, even just to kind of find out what it’s about. And I like to just remind myself of the different phases I was at as a writer. I feel when I do read myself back, I think, Well, I could never do that again. I would find it impossible.
Richard: “That was then. I’ve changed as a person. World’s different.”
David: I know that I’m not the person who wrote those books, and I think that’s quite amusing. And I think it’s a good argument for making as much music or art or literature as you can.
Richard: Yeah. I think also, I’m really not into the “masterpiece” thing, where people really craft something and work on it and get it better and better and better, and then finally it’s this superb thing. That just really doesn’t interest me. I mean, I like superb things. But I haven’t personally got the patience for it. I also quite like things which are sort of tossed off and half-baked and maybe leave a lot of questions.
David: I guess I just like the work itself to feel complete, without comparing to anything else. Just that I have a sense that it’s suddenly complete now, to know when to walk away and say, “OK, this thing is now complete on its own terms. That’s that.”
Richard: Yeah, it reaches a point, almost like an equilibrium, where it just seems balanced.
David: Yeah. Everything’s in place. You feel when it’s finished. You feel that it requires nothing else. It’s all trying to work out what the book itself wants to be. And for me, getting myself out of the way as much as possible is the big thing.
Richard: Well, should I bounce down this file as an mp3 and send it off?
David: Might as well. It was great to catch up!
Richard: I’ll see you around soon!
David: Definitely will.
