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Hamish Hawk Interview: Pathos in the Ridiculous

Photo by Michaela Simpson

BY JORDAN MAINZER

"It's a very sunny afternoon here in Edinburg, so I'm in a good mood," Hamish Hawk told me over Zoom late last month. When I mentioned to him that I had spent time in Scotland's capital city decades ago and loved it, he lit up. "When it comes to Edinburgh, I'm such an enthusiast," he said. "I really like when people come here." Part of me was shocked that Hawk abided by such simple logic, that nice weather plus a feeling of civic pride equals even temporary happiness. On albums like Heavy Elevator, Angel Numbers, and his latest, A Firmer Hand, out Friday via So Recordings and Fierce Panda, Hawk is not necessarily a spoilsport, but he toes the line between truth and facetiousness. Such a balancing act has proven so far to be successful for Hawk, who has found himself fostering a long-term working relationship with Rod Jones of beloved Scottish rockers Idlewid and twice shortlisted for the Scottish Album of the Year award. But with A Firmer Hand, Hawk didn't withhold a thing, sharing an album focused on various types of relationships with men, from romantic to professional, as well as insecurities with masculinity. And he doesn't quite know whether people will like it. "[A Firmer Hand] is different enough from Heavy Elevator and Angel Numbers being safely on the cheaper poppy side of things," he said. "This one is lyrically and musically quite a change."

Don't get me--or Hawk--wrong: A Firmer Hand is very much a Hamish Hawk record, through and through. Jones returns to the producer's chair, the songs were written by Hawk, and the instrumentation was composed by his core band of guitarist Andrew Pearson, keyboardist/drummer Stefan Maurice, and bassist Alex Duthie. The songs exude familiar vibes, from the very opener "Juliet as Epithet", with its harmonic keyboards, rippling percussion, and of course, Hawk's unmistakable croon. But the first track also sets the mood for the entire record, individual verses encompassing simultaneous feelings of devotion, worry, bitterness, and self-aggrandizement. "So goddamn handsome he makes me anxious / He holds my hand thru the sad advances / Why wouldn't he tho? / I'm just the open secret no-one's ever gonna blow," Hawk sings, making you want to cry and laugh all at once. In general, Hawk uses explicitness not for shock value, but to reveal a similar contradiction within sex, that of vulnerability and hilarity. The album's double entendre title comes from dance punk jam "Big Cat Tattoos", one that both derides and expresses jealousy over traditional notions of manliness. "I think you'd prefer a firmer hand with big cat tattoos and a wedding band," Hawk sings to a lover, eyes rolled, taking down all types of compensatory masculine personas, from the tech bro and the music snob to even the strong-and-silent sad-sack within himself.

A skilled songwriter, Hawk both sings autobiographically and exaggeratedly, and he's able to present other perspectives without the pretense of becoming them. On A Firmer Hand, most importantly, you're not left wanting to solve a puzzle of what happened and when and to whom; instead, you can find a sense of solidarity with the imperfections and troubles of everyone involved, even if your life has nothing in common with them. The ivory tower narrator of "Nancy Dearest" may be lonely at the top, but what matters is that they're lonely at all. The slinky bass and trilling guitars of "Autobiography of Spy" visualize a suave 007 on paper but someone living a secret sexual existence in a sad reality. "We're footprintless on fallen snow / We wear the mist and learn the code," Hawk sighs. Yes, Hawk's clearly diffident himself on songs like "Men Like Wire" and "Questionable Hit", on the latter participating in a music industry where other men wont want to be him if he's clearly gay or effeminate, but thinking, "Will I never tire of fronting?" on the former. But he finds power for us all when adopting a devilish swagger on "Milk an Ending". "This is my ninth life / I shan't stand by like a half shut knife," he declares, continuing, "If you can't take this dance / If you won't fake romance, why should I?" After all, the right to live freely means the right to boast freely, too.

If I was surprised by the wholly sunny disposition of a purportedly autobiographical songwriter who made an album like A Firmer Hand, I was not taken aback by his willingness to break down its songs. Throughout our conversation, Hawk was honest about which aspects of the album were the results of a longstanding goal and which came naturally or even unexpectedly. Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity, and catch him on tour in the UK and Europe through the rest of the year, with the same band who played on the album.

Photo by Simon Murphy

Since I Left You: At what point did writing a "skeletons in the closet" record become unavoidable?

Hamish Hawk: The first song I wrote for the record was "Questionable Hit". It was written roundabout the same time as some of the Angel Numbers songs, or at least towards the end of the Angel Numbers era, as it were. There's something in the tone of "A Questionable Hit", and even of a song like "Money" from Angel Numbers, and of a couple others in my repertoire, that's similarly slightly finger-pointing, embittered, and cynical. But I felt with "Questionable Hit" there was a sharper tooth in there that I didn't expect. When I wrote that, I felt, even though it was roundabout the time of the Angel Numbers stuff, it wasn't going to fit very comfortably with Angel Numbers, so I sort of put it to one side. Then, my collaborator Stefan Maurice, my drummer, sent me a keys loop that essentially became "Machiavelli's Room". When I was writing that, I became consumed with it. Some songs come really fast, and others take months. This was neither. I ruminated on it, listening to it constantly trying to edit and redraft the lyrics to get them perfect. As soon as I finished it, I looked back at the work and thought, "Ok, I don't think a song like that is gonna sit very comfortably with songs that sound like Angel Numbers." It struck me quite quickly that whatever album "Machiavelli's Room" would appear on, the songs that surrounded it would have to be cut from the same cloth. It was from there that "Questionable Hit", even though it's got a slightly different tone, reared its head again.

[A Firmer Hand] became this wider exercise in seeing how direct, how honest, how diaristic I could be. I think the album has achieved that, but for that reason, I'm slightly more nervous about the release of this record than I was for the past two. It's a vulnerable record...albums kind of exist in this odd space before you release them where you feel you might want to change something, or you're not convinced of exactly what they are. As soon as they're released, it's like, "Ok, now that's done. I can close the door on that. I can orient myself towards something completely new." I'm still in that strange period with A Firmer Hand, admittedly, but I think it's a good piece of work.

SILY: It's not necessarily a logical step after you've gained critical acclaim and more fans to say to the general music listening public, "Here's an album where you might not like me very much." Would you describe the album as totally diaristic, or are there aspects that are tongue-in-cheek and a little self-aware?

HH: Across the board, even with Heavy Elevator and Angel Numbers, and even before that, the vast majority of the inspiration I get to write songs does come from real events and real life. I definitely write in heightened terms. I'm inspired by writers like Scott Walker and Jarvis Cocker who take mundane kitchen-sink narratives and bring them up to this level where they could sing about something incredibly ordinary, like taking the kids home from school or something, and put it on this big Las Vegas stage, this high drama Caravaggio lighting. That's a process I've always been really interested in. As much as my songs are autobiographical, they're not strictly autobiographical. I'll take the truth and polish it up a bit and inject it with this new dramatic or poetic energy. But if we were to go through my songs, I'd be able to point at lyrics and tell you exactly where they came from and what moment in my life caused them to be written. I'm definitely not an abstract writer in that sense: I don't attack things from the perspective of other characters, and I don't try to take on a different persona and write about a period in history or a place I've never been to. It is autobiographical in that sense. My songs are very personal to me. That's the only way I know how to do it, so within that frame, I am trying to push myself to write in different ways, but that's my medium, as it were.

SILY: Even if you don't inhabit other characters or mindsets, you still give space to other voices. There are conversational aspects of your songs where you're presenting the perspectives of others without inhabiting them. How do you find that balance when you write?

HH: I don't think it's necessarily the healthiest thing in the world. In the past, I've been guilty of other characters or people that feature in my songs turning into kind of cyphers, versions of them where they say the things I want them to say. Angel Numbers was when I first started working with other characters in the songs saying things that really did happen, exact phrases. I wouldn't note them down at the time, but they were etched into my brain forever. That continues into A Firmer Hand. I'm trying to be as cutthroat with myself as I possibly can, because more often than not, these characters are saying something to me or about me. This album was a warts and all approach. At the end of some of these songs, I'm not necessarily gonna look great. It was an exercise in seeing how true to life I could be without being fantastical or this sort of protection of artifice. Sometimes, when I listen to these songs back, I think, "Oh, I remember that, that wasn't [my] best day." [laughs]

SILY: On A Firmer Hand, you do write about the mundane, but at the same time, you include hyper-specific cultural references and, even if they're based on real people, tropes like the tech bro on "Big Cat Tattoos". I laughed at the line, "You vetoed every one of my miserabilist movies / You bored everyone from out of town with the virtues of shoegaze." Everyone knows someone like that. Do you try to connect with a wider audience by being hyper-specific?

HH: It's a really good question. In you saying that, I can see you agree with me in that often times, the more hyper-specific you can be, the more idiosyncratic, the more personal, the more likely it is to suddenly explode and be relatable to a huge number of people. More formulaic commercial pop music, there has been historically a belief that if you try to make things as generic as possible, it can be consumed by a much larger number of people. I think you find that the more you try to be generic, the more you try to dumb it down to the lowest common denominator so that everyone can get it, the more people are put off by it. I've always tried in my music to give a vast amount of credit to the listener. I don't want to dumb things down for anybody. I'd like to be immediate in my lyricism. I'd like my lyrics to be understood. I'm not trying to be so pretentious that no one can engage with it. The more personal I can be, the more it ends up relating to so many more people. By adding in cultural references or even local references, those things endear people much more than trying to get to them where they are. It's about creating something so they can approach you, as opposed to--I don't know--trying to be close to their life inauthentically. It's much stronger to be authentically you so people can move towards you.

SILY: It's almost a matter of humility. You don't know their life, and they don't know yours, but being hyper-specific is how we relate to each other.

HH: The song "Panic" by The Smiths has so many British references in it, but towards the end of the song, Morrissey sings, "Hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ." He's talking about the songs the DJ is playing, singing, "It says nothing to me about my life." I don't think he's talking about songs that talk about far flung places, because even the songs that talk about far flung places can talk to him about his life. We don't have to have identical lives in order to relate to each other. There's so much more going on underneath all that. I like to give the listener fair credit and assume that they have what it takes to engage with the song on whatever level they'd like to. Pop music listeners are certainly very engaged and have the intelligence and willingness to engage on whatever level they'd like to.

SILY: And the internet prowess!

HH: [laughs] Yeah!

A Firmer Hand cover art

SILY: The mid-album back-to-back of "You Can Film Me" and "Christopher St.", I don't know the stories behind the songs, but they seem to me to comprise a tragic mid-section. Am I off base there?

HH: Not at all. There is a link between those. I'm not going to disclose too much about it, if I may, but you're quite astute to pick that up. "Christopher St.", the music was written by Stefan. I've always been a fan of little vignettes in albums. The thing that makes Angel Numbers cohesive is that it is one unified voice: It is my voice. The band and I never worried too much about dipping our toes into different genres or different sounds or instrumentation within one album. Giving fair credit to the listener, they're able to deal with an album like Angel Numbers. It's not tricky: "Rest & Veneers" has a sort of country feel. "Elvis Look-alike Shadows" is bombastic and loud and high drama. "Frontman" is a harmonium-led lament. I don't think it's hard to engage with an album just because it has many different faces, so I've never worried about having fragments or vignettes or moments in albums that take you out of the world you think you're in, and suddenly they pull you right out. I've always been inspired by albums that seem like they have a left turn in the middle of the record.

I must say, to compliment him, that Stefan is an incredibly gifted piano player and composer on the keys. He's written so many beautiful songs for me and so many beautiful moments that no one's heard, so I was really excited to have a song like "Christopher St." [on A Firmer Hand] because it's such a beautiful piece of music. The writing and the lyrics came so, so quickly. I won't go too much into the inspiration or the stories behind the songs, but I think you're right. It's this tragic two sides. Everything that's in "You Can Film Me" is as bombastic and full of pomp, arch, raised eyebrow stuff I'm capable of, and "Christopher St." is about as earnest and as tender and as melancholic as I get. Those things are absolutely essential parts of my music, so to have them sit next to each other, you'd think it would be a contrast that could repel a listener, but I think--or at least I hope--it achieves the opposite. Having those things sit side by side is really effective. I've always been inspired by the idea of pathos in the ridiculous. Having something very deeply emotional and sad, the height of a certain emotion, next to something really amusing, silly, absolutely absurd. It makes the emotional thing more intense. It has this odd effect that you think would be uncanny and not work, but more often than not, it does.

SILY: Was there a general process for how you came up with the instrumentation on the record? Or was it truly on a song-by-song basis?

HH: It was different than the previous records. Heavy Elevator was one way, this sort of indie rock default. Angel Numbers took off and gave it a little more pomp with brass, horns, and pedal steel, embellishing the slightly rougher edges, softening them up, and bringing them to the fore. It was slightly ballroom. The band and I were very careful with A Firmer Hand to make it a band record. We wanted to be able to replicate all of the songs on the record on stage exactly as they are instead of having to make approximations or use samples or for someone to have to play the violin line on the keys or the trumpet line on the guitar. It was about having a band in a room. We wanted track 1 to track 12 to be obviously the same group of people and basically the same instruments. I think that limitation is really helpful and can often be really fruitful for a creative process. There wasn't too much pre-production involved in the songs. [Though,] the more we record and the more often we're in the studio, we think that's what we want to do next time, to have time to really work things out, as painstaking as it might be.

SILY: Have you played the songs from A Firmer Hand live yet?

HH: Some of them. We've played "Men Like Wire", "You Can Film Me", "Nancy Dearest", and "Big Cat Tattoos". Beyond that, most of the middle tracks we haven't touched yet. We've rehearsed them, and some of them are sounding really great. I'm certainly feeling--and I can't speak for the band--that it's an interesting experience trying to put these songs next to some of the older songs in our set. It starts to feel like a tale of two cities. I think that's exciting. I think it's probably somewhere where good things can come. I don't think it's going to be too much of a problem.

SILY: Do you have the same approach to adapting the new songs to the stage as you did for those on your previous records?

HH: I'd say so. I wouldn't say too much has changed. The first thing we've noticed is that setlists are becoming really tricky. Our sets are typically an hour and a quarter, an hour and twenty minutes, and we're having to cut out some of the mainstays of the set, turn it on its head completely and say, "Ok, suddenly, we're not playing that." Which is okay. That can only be good, to have a sense of renewal or rejuvenation. Reconfiguring the sets is tricky, but it's important we don't rest on our laurels. Any change is good for us. It's always the new song that feels exciting to play. With all these new shows coming up, we're excited to have some new blood in the set.

SILY: Is there one on this record that you're most excited to play, whether you've played it already or not?

HH: I have three, for different reasons. I'm really looking forward to playing "Machiavelli's Room" live. We've rehearsed it, and it's sounding great, but we haven't played it live yet. The first time that will likely get played live is before the album comes out. Who knows what people will make of it the first time they hear it? I'm excited about that one because it's so stark, and it's the type of song that's quite unyielding in the sense that it is what it is. You can't sugarcoat it. On stage, I love performing and love trying to engage with the audience and bring them in. Some of the songs on A Firmer Hand are more pushing people back, or more affronting in some sense. I'm excited to see how "Machiavelli's Room" works, not only in terms of how the audience experiences it, but in terms of what it does to us. It's a two-way street. We can treat the songs a certain way, but the songs treat us a certain way.

Another is "Autobiography of Spy". I really like that song, and I think it's a really interesting album track. It isn't a single, and isn't going to get that much limelight. But I really like it. I think it's a great length, the instrumentation is really interesting, and all the moments are sort of considerate and well thought-out. We're all quite happy with that song and how it happened.

The third is "Juliet as Epithet", the [opening track]. It's very atmospheric.

SILY: Do you use loops live?

HH: We do, but they're never a cornerstone of the songs. They're never an essential part. It's more window dressing. We have little things that will continue throughout the entire record. There are a few songs where we have a loop going on in the background, but it's more painting. We don't like having too many major parts being played by samples.

SILY: Are you planning on coming to the US?

HH: Next year, it's looking like it. This year, we have two tours in the UK, one in August and one in December. We're going on tour with Travis in September throughout Europe. America is likely on the cards for March or April for next year, though it's more likely to be February or March. We've played SXSW twice and are hoping to get invited a third time, but surrounding that, we're hoping to get things sorted on both coasts so we have shows either side of SXSW.

SILY: Would you come to Chicago?

HH: That would be ideal. Obviously, it's all up in the air right now. The ideal would be New York, L.A., and something in Austin, but something in the Midwest would be awesome. Chicago would have to get done. Not only do I love Chicago, but in terms of the numerous art scenes in Chicago, we'd have to sink our teeth into them.

SILY: Have you played here before?

HH: Yes. I've played there and in America, but it was sort of a shoestring tour of the US. I was playing DIY house shows, no money was exchanged. It was me playing in people's living rooms. I've played in 26 states. I played in a living room in Chicago. I've played in Detroit, Atlanta, Athens, Baltimore, L.A., Salt Lake City, all over the place.

Photo by Elliot Hetherton

SILY: Are you the type of songwriter who's always writing, or do you compartmentalize between album cycles?

HH: Sadly, I do always write. Right now, I'm writing a little bit, but not much because I don't have too much time in my hands. But I've not been known to successfully compartmentalize and say, "This year, I've written my record, and next year, I won't write at all." I don't know how to do that yet. I don't have that relationship with my writing. It is quite consistent. When I do have a fallow couple of months, those months are full of insecurity and dread and self-doubt. Hopefully, in the future, I'll manage to foster something that says, "Okay, I haven't written something for 6 months, and that's okay." But at this stage, if I don't write anything for 2 weeks, I think, "Woah, what's happening? Is there something coming? Maybe I've dried up." Right now, the band and I are throwing some things around at the moment. Let's hope it's the beginning of the next record.

SILY: You could always write about writer's block!

HH: Exactly, but that's when you start falling down the rabbit hole of writing songs about writing songs, and writing songs about going on tour. Suddenly, no one relates to your albums at all except for musicians. "That album's so great, that one about being on the road." People don't really like listening to that on the way to work.

SILY: Is there anything you've been listening to, watching, or reading lately that's caught your attention?

HH: My listening at the moment, I don't know why it's happened this way, but it's been dominated by new country and roots music and new interpretations of traditional blues music. Since I was a kid, I've always really liked folk singers. My mum was a huge fan of James Taylor, Kris Kristofferson, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Ralph McTell, Gordon Lightfoot, and these 60s folkies. It was my first entrance into singer-songwriter music. Of late, I wouldn't say I've been listening to anything specific, other than the absolute classics of blues, Blind Willie McTell, Mississippi John Hurt, and Lead Belly, which I've always gone back to fairly infrequently. At the moment, I'm listening to a lot of blues and country music. Who knows what that promises for the next record, because I don't think country had much of an input on A Firmer Hand. Maybe I'll see if Willie Nelson wants to do a collab.

SILY: I don't know, the guitar tones on "The Hard Won" at the end are kind of country western.

HH: That's true. That's the last track as well, so maybe that suggests what might come. Here's hoping.

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