#I kinda respect that; we don't have that anymore. No magazine has the budget for it and neither do rising indie/rock musicians

[sunburnacoustic]

The Inner Symmetry

VISIONS Germany reviews Muse's set at Hurricane Festival in 2001 and interviews the band in issue No. 100, July 2001.

[Note: This article has been translated from German, and my German is nonexistent so I am no help here. Original article archived on archive.org]

Good Morning Beautiful

The summer of '99. A good year in every respect. Great records, great concerts, fine festivals. The Hurricane, for example, was one of those highlights that people talked about for a long time. Motorpsycho, dEUS, Chemical Brothers, Manson, Queens Of The Stone Age, Foo Fighters and dozens of other seal-of-approval gigs. That was nice.

Right in the middle: three young guys with playfulness, pressure and anger in their stomachs, and an album called "Showbiz". As well as half a dozen VISIONS editorial staff, who at eleven in the morning in a shockingly empty circus tent indulged in true emotional rapture. The reason: singer and guitarist Matthew Bellamy, bassist Chris Wolstenholme and drummer Dominique Howard celebrated live on German soil for the first time Songs like "Sunburn", "Muscle Museum" or "Uno" enthralled from the word go with brilliant guitar baths, magical presence and a punch that made the festival breakfast stick in your throat.

So there it was, the new Britrock sensation. Three pimply teenagers in shabby jeans and sneakers, who at first glance looked as if they had won the Sparkasse youth development prize. But they had prepared well, at home in tranquil Devon in rural nowhere in southern England. Had studied the records of Nirvana, Radiohead, Jeff Buckley and the Smashing Pumpkins in the children's room, met several times a week in the rehearsal room for years and worked meticulously on the details until they were really good.

Then, in early '99, they had just that little bit of luck: John Leckie, the production ace for Britain's rockier moments, found them fragrant and took them to the pampas. More precisely: to Cornwall to Sawmill Studios, where, in the middle of the forest and far away from any civilisation, bands like Oasis, Supergrass and the Stone Roses had already put down great albums. And now it would come, the "Showbiz".

In the afternoon of that day on the Hurricane [festival], during an interview in their then-still clearly small camper, three super good-humoured rockers lolled about casually on their couch and gibbered over the small group of girls who openly offered themselves as accompaniment for the afternoon at the concert earlier searched. Man, that's pretty exciting, all of this. Matthew shakes his head: "It's so surreal. Up until a few months ago we were still practicing our fingers sore in the rehearsal room and playing in pubs to a few people who thought we were shit. And now we're rocking here in Germany at one of the biggest festivals and having a lot of fun. Great, and now I'm going to see Placebo."

The World Is Yours

It's cold, it's winter '99. Despite the technical problems and ten hours on a snow-covered autobahn, Muse really impressed the almost sold-out Cologne Prime Club. Later, Dominic, Matthew and I are sitting in my old Opel, freezing like slugs in the three-star freezer and listening to tapes for a VISIONS blind date. They seem pretty much destroyed - the fact that "Showbiz" was released worldwide, at the same time and with great fanfare now hits mercilessly. You want them, preferably anywhere and immediately. Five club concerts in Europe, then as support for the Foo Fighters and Porno For Pyros through the States, and in between to Southeast Asia, where they already fill the big halls.

That takes its toll. As a jittery, flu-stricken Matthew soberly states, "It's damn hard to maintain a consistently high level when you've got absolutely no downtime. Right now, all I could do was sleep all day." Moderately enthusiastic they fight their way through the 15 songs on my tape, only the new Therapy? can really blow his mind. "My goodness, let's get started," says Dominic happily. "And how well they play to the point. Oh man, we still have to practise a lot."

Pleasure And Pain

Earlier this year in London: visibly relaxed, contentedly grinning faces on the band and label people. The weather is beautiful, the hotel is large and expensive, the lounge is comfortable and the media entourage is international. A relaxed afternoon with fine finger food and a lot of questions. And new sneakers for Matthew.  Unconventionally cut old school sneakers with fashionable puma fur applications in black and bordeaux. He got it from the Japanese delegation because they heard that he likes that sort of thing. That's right - Matthew is overjoyed: "An excellent gift. Because that's how it is with shoes for me: I always only have one pair. I wear it exclusively and for as long as possible. Until I get a new one that I like.

With all due respect, Mr. Bellamy, I blurted out unintentionally, it was about time. Because his previous favourite pair, parked right next to my armchair, a festival-proven biotope of days gone by with the pungent aroma of ammonia and acid, could have a negative effect on sex appeal. "Heehee, finally someone else tells him!" giggles Dominic, who is lounging next to Matthew on the sofa and gnawing the toppings of bite-sized slices of pizza in layers.

Matthew takes it easy, like so many things these days. But they also have every reason to smile: Yesterday, at the first small club gig after a five-month studio break, it literally broke out of them. Pressure and fun in a family package, a superbly balanced balance between brute force and pure beauty, and all with a tightness and precision that very few trios can achieve.

Also, and even more important: The second opus "Origin Of Symmetry" is as good as in the can, and, so they say, turned out really smart. More ideas, more courage, more variation, more studios and more real human bones - the latter used as idiosyncratic sounding percussion instruments. “Yeah, that's about it,” Matthew judges. “We just wanted to trust each other more. We know more, can do more, so we want more.”

According to Matthew, the most important development, which was also unmistakable last night, is the following: “We have found out what it really means to be a three-man band and how we can optimally use these advantages. We've listened to a lot of Jimi Hendrix Experience, Cream, Nirvana, Primus and Police—the best trios in music history—and only focused on what makes them special: dynamics, interaction, precision, filling in empty spaces. I think we're getting that across quite well now.”

His trick: variation. In volume, mood, intensity and instrumentation. The latter especially, because Matthew has learned to play the piano. “I've been really into playing keyboards, Fender Rhodes and piano for a long time, and now I'm composing a lot with them too. I aspire to be at least as good at it as I am at the guitar. That's why we're going to integrate the keys into the concerts in the future. That gives some songs a completely different, completely new vibe.” Also: It also looks good. “I think it's cool: Sitting on the stage behind his piano, singing a ballad and having the blues. Almost a bit like Tom Waits.” A jealous crook,

“There are two sides to Muse – in the songwriting, on stage, in all of our music. They express the two opposite moods I can find myself in when making music. On the one hand you have the happy, light-hearted side that's just looking for a good melody and a well-rounded song. On the other hand, there is this thoughtful, serious, dark, often aggressive element that sometimes breaks out of me and creates wild, unbridled moments. That's what scares me sometimes on stage, because something almost always breaks. It's the borderline between pleasure and pain. You have to learn to deal with that.”

Truly, not an easy chunk. Especially when impressions like those of the past year rain down on you. Shrill situations and people, bad and good surprises, a life with left indicators and headlight flashers. Matthew says: “You're in the middle of Australia, the phone rings and they ask you if you can tour America with the Chili Peppers next week. And a week later you are suddenly in Japan and 20 girls are camping in front of your hotel room. And if you go out and talk to them, they make a big fuss and run away. At the bottom, you hop in the limo, drive to the venue, and then all hell breaks loose.”

That Rockstar Thing, Revisited

Easter in Düsseldorf, two months later. Almost everything is the same as it was a year ago when you were here for the first time: the same place (Philipshalle), the same occasion (Osterrocknacht). But: a different position. If you gave the afternoon heater back then, this year you are the secret main act for many. Also different from last time: the mood. Because it's bad. There are far too many interviews, viva is annoying and they don't feel like signing autographs. And then this ugly backstage room, of all things, the one next to the Stereophonics, who you always thought were stupid.

Especially since their singer Kelly Jones informed readers in detail in an NME interview about how independent and boring Muse were compared to them. And anyway: Matthew is a little snot with bad manners. As proof, a play follows in two acts. Part one consists of a very pissed off Mr. Bellamy, unannounced visits to the cloakroom neighbours, arguments, ugly scenes, and to top it all: red wine stains on your favourite sneakers. The end of the scene: even more bad mood. The evening seems to have passed.

But part two follows in no time, less than an hour later: Muse on stage. Professionals in a duel - with the weapons of the musician. Matthew is the grumpy, multi-talented frontman somewhere between languishing singer, maniacal guitarist and serene piano player. The new songs are stunners, today's drive is a very special one, and the Stereophonics playing after them look pretty lame and tired. Muse, the ‘young urban professionals’ of rock music, do what they do best: vomit out emotional apocalypses that have become songs, absorb anger and energy, surf on a sea of ​​intensity, melody and groove.

They play skilfully on the keyboard of the rock 'n' roll premier league, and not only in musical terms, as the rest of the evening proves. We—that is, the industry-standard mix of media representatives accompanying the band—are sitting in the living room booth of their super-luxury bus on the way to the after-show party in a rented hotel suite. The band is upstairs in the living quarters of the rolling amusement hut; not alone, as giggling girls' voices tell us.

Later, in the suite, a motley crowd of roadies, journalists, musicians and label people demand music and alcohol. Matthew, Chris and Dominic are just taking a shower or something, the procurement of drinks is faltering, everyone is waiting, nobody knows why, for whom and in what condition.

But as soon as they are there, the fun trumpets with the aura of successful alternative careerists, things get turbulent. Beautiful girls give them beautiful eyes, complimenting pats on the back from every side, handshakes and a bit of casual socialising. Who would have thought: The insignia of being a star are now excellent for the three inconspicuous boys from the sheltered provincial idyll.

As it's almost getting light outside and my skull is getting darker and darker, I'm standing in front of a monstrous wide-screen TV with Dominic and an absinthe in my hand. My efforts to explain to him that the hotpacks from the Rockpalast broadcast that are just crossing the screen are called Clawfinger, were a very hot sweep in the early 90s and were allowed to replace the main act today, earns a weary shrug of the shoulders. "I've never heard that. Must have been before my time. I was just starting out on Nirvana and grunge at the time.” Young veggies, damn it.

Blood, Sweat & Abbey Road

Three weeks later we meet again, because in the meantime "Origin Of Symmetry" has hit the home CD player. It only needed a few runs to convey the certainty: This record also has it, something special, maybe even more than the debut "Showbiz", which in direct comparison seems downright tame.

The foundation: a handful of fantastic, aggressive rock tunes like "New Born", "Hyper Music" or the first single "Plug In Baby", with killer melodies and beats like slaps in the face. The walls: magical ballads like the suicidal blues "Feeling Good", the heart-rending "Screenager" or the sacred "Megalomania", which comes with church organs. The roof: confused glam rock with tasteful 80s keyboards ("Bliss"), a vocally losing-all-control of Matthew in the pathos anthem "Micro Cuts", or orchestral monumentals in the best prog rock tradition, as in "Space Dementia" or " Citizen Erased". A colossus of diversity, beauty and great songs.

The circumstances of this album production couldn't have been better either: They spent a few months in the four most expensive and best studios in England - including Peter Gabriel's 'Real World' mega complex, Pink Floyd's David Gilmour's studio houseboat and, of course, 'Abbey Road'. “Admittedly, we also had to take a deep breath at the end of the recording when we asked ourselves what the next record should actually be,” says Dominic. “But should we forego such opportunities because of that?”

During the recording sessions, they were again guided for long periods by the skilled production hands of John Leckie, but on four of the heavier songs they also put themselves in the care of another top-class sound carver: Tool producer Dave Bottrill. “I don't think anyone understands us like John, but it was a very important experience,” Matthew recalls. “Dave has a very different approach to a band and their music.” What's the biggest difference between them? “John Leckie is sound, arrangement and feeling. Dave, on the other hand, thrives more on the energy he thrashes into you while recording. It really helps you get the most out of yourself.”

With the finished high-quality recordings, Matthew says, they were drawn back “back home to our living room, now in terms of studio technology.” Namely to Cornwall to the 'Sawmill Studios', whose owners - and this is where we come full circle - meanwhile too is her manager, closest adviser and backup daddy. We are sitting in the bright sun on the terrace of a luxury hotel in Hamburg. As usual, Chris is the friendly, grinning, reserved observer. Dominic, the smug rascal with the dry jokes, asks me the name of the pretty promoter who is taking care of them today. And Matthew, the bright kid with a penchant for hyperactivity, meticulously paints every colour abrasion on his run-down Asian sneakers black again with an Edding.

Despite the stress of everyday touring, they make a vital, tidy impression today. The recipe is simple, explains Matthew. “First: eat better, take care of yourself a little. And secondly: going out a lot, having a few drinks with nice people who were at your concert. In short: lead a social life. If you just hang out at the hotel and lock yourself up, like we did on the last tour, then eventually all ties to normal life will be severed. You'll quickly become a bit ‘meschugge’ [mad?]. That's why we're going out a lot more among people this time. It helps you stay grounded. The only thing that is sometimes clearly neglected is sleep.”

Good keyword: Is there ever help? Surely you get offered at some after-show party, that junk. But no, no power to the drugs - at least the stupid ones. “Everything that is too speedy or too chemical drives me crazy, we don't really need that at all. The greatest feeling is something hallucinogenic, maybe a few mushrooms. But never on tour. At most at home, or rather in the studio if you got stuck musically and need a conceptual overview for a few hours.”

That's how they sit there: three smart young men in harmony with themselves, the world and the temptations lurking everywhere. Unaffected, reflected and extremely relaxed wolves of the music genius in the sheep's clothing of young normal people. “That's what life is all about,” says Dominic. “Being able to do exactly what you want to do most, in a relaxed, optimal environment.” “There are still phases where I catch myself thinking that all this is nothing more than is a great dream,” adds Matthew. “And then again there are moments when the full force of this crazy rock lifestyle hits my bones so much that I know: That must be reality.”

This is also reality, and current ones at that: Muse are the paragons of the new generation of boisterous rock emotionalists. The reactions to the album range from positive to overwhelming, the concerts are buzzing and everyone is happy. The fans, because they can indulge in pure Muse enjoyment. The label, because if everything goes well, you can soon earn a lot of money with it. And the band, because they can take all the freedom they want and still be loved fanatically and taken 100% seriously.

Matthew is a bit proud: “What I think is so great is that people really engage with us. Because that proves: We are not hype, everything is solidly developed success. When we try something new or overshoot the mark, nobody says: ‘Let them do it, they're crazy anyway.’ No, people try to understand why we do something. They take us seriously and deal with our ideas. It's a really great feeling to be liked for that, not because you had that one cool #1 hit with that catchy tune.”

Just An Ordinary Night

Their gig in the completely sold-out market hall on the same evening is rather meagre thanks to a terribly miserable sound, terrible scramble and the obvious listlessness of the actors. But today's after-show party in a hip cocktail bar on the Alster is quite solid. A constellation of journos, record bosses, musicians and happily grinning groupies, which is remarkably similar to the Düsseldorf drink, but today decidedly more top-class, basks in the wonderful feeling of being able to be there. And they do their job well, the three main actors. Are charming, funny, constantly surrounded and even concerned about the musical well-being of the guests - Dominic doesn't give up until he can soften the granite block programmed stoically to house by a DJ to let the complete new Weezer record run through.

"Is that a pattern every night when you're on tour?" my gin and tonic-soaked brain asks an equally heavily-counted Matthew as we wait for cabs at dawn. “Yeah, more or less. That's good: we have fun and gain experience. And then you can write songs about it again.” And hey presto, he's already sitting in the taxi with Dominic and a pretty companion. Hopefully he'll keep his shoes on later for the cozy part in the hotel. The one with the cougar pattern, the red wine stain, and the marker pen on the side.