Jamie Lidell is a weirdo, and I mean that as the highest character endorsement. He’s free, a genuine mad scientist, nerdily content concocting away while singing along with robotic blips and bloops from ancient synthesizers.
We’ll be playing and, in my opinion, my guitar sounds a bit safe, kinda same-y. Turns out, in the control room, Jamie’s run my signal through some dilapidated tape machine and my guitar actually sounds like fucking Godzilla. There’s been many a stank face during play back, which warms my heart.
Jamie also gives spot-on but satisfyingly British criticism. We’ll do a take, and he'll be in the control room, gloriously bespectacled and disheveled, aggressively scratching his head.
“Trevor...it’s a bit clever, innit?”
He’s the only person who’s ever asked me to sound more like I’m in the Ramones while playing Al Stone Band material. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me.
We're doing good work, folks!