Pavement by accident: TLOBF meets Wet Paint

Seldom has an album been so aptly titled. Woe, the second record from London slackers Wet Paint, has a name that seems to perfectly sum up singer Babak Ganjei’s temperament – and the mood of the record.

Not that he’s miserable. At least, in the course of our 45 minute conversation he doesn’t appear to be. It’s more that Ganjei seems to have an almost preternatural lack of arrogance. He is acutely self-aware, in a way that makes him instantly likeable. He plays up his band’s flaws, and his own, to such a degree that they become melodramatic, comical – just like his glumly entertaining comics.

The Line Of Best Fit met Ganjei in the café at Hackney City Farm – an establishment apparently staffed entirely by attractive, aloof, American twenty-somethings. As it turns out, this is a favourite haunt for Hackney mothers – all of whom descended on the tables around us as we began talking.

There’s a lot of yummy mummies appearing here suddenly…

Yeah, I didn’t really think it through. It’s not going to make me look particularly cool.

How old is your kid?

Three and a half.

How is that? Is three and a half a troublesome time?

It’s actually alright. You can talk to him a lot. He’s quite into dinosaurs. He knows them all. He can identify about 30. I now know about five.

You’ve got to worry when your three year old knows more about a certain subject than you do.

I think that’s probably the way it goes, though. I probably knew a lot more about certain things at a young age. Now I just know about whatever bit of celebrity gossip I just read. That’s all I know.

So are you just playing odd shows for this record, rather than touring it?

Yeah. It’s difficult, because everyone’s got lots of other things going on. Melinda’s in the Singing Adams, and they’re touring all the time. I’m co-running the label…

Tell me about the label. I know you’ve got this split 7” with Matt Tong coming out.

Yeah, I think it’s sounding alright. Our track from it was recorded ages ago, and it’s like…it’s not an old song because no-one’s heard it, but it’s been floating around for ages. We put it on Myspace ages ago.

But it kind of made sense, because Matt’s one of my best friends, and I really like what he does. He’s out in New York now and he’s setting up his own studio, so we decided to put out one of his songs because it’s really nice as a label to start putting out brand new stuff.

We were starting to realise that it’s really exciting when you start out, but then you put out some vinyl and realise that no-one really listens to it. But we’re probably not the best sales people anyway.

And the cost of it is so much that you realise you have start choosing what you’re going to do, and then it gets boring again. So splits are a really nice way of at least being able to put more stuff out. Also we’re putting it out for Record Store Day, which is cool.

Wet Paint – Gone So Long by TLOBF

Did you read the blog about Record Store Day on the NME website?

No, I saw lots of people talking about it. What did it say?

Basically that Record Store Day is rubbish, no-one needs to buy records anymore because you can download everything, and everyone who works in a record shop is a bastard.

Well I’ve sort of written songs about this. I’m 32. I still buy records. Sometimes I buy a record without hearing it, because someone told me it was good. That’s how I’m used to doing it.

It’s like, I remember when the Afghan Whigs released on Sub Pop, and I thought, “I kind of want to try and get that.” Then one shop has it and it’s fifteen quid, and you look at it for a few weeks, and then once you get it you’re almost forced to listen to it for months.

You’ve made an emotional investment in it.

Exactly, and it’s a lot of money. Now records don’t even cost that much.

I work with kids who are 18, and then you realise that they come from a generation where they don’t have to. And it does seem like a stupid thing to buy a CD. I love records, but I’m realising that CDs are actually pretty stupid.

It really isn’t that well designed a format.

Although ironically, the label is actually releasing records on CD, because it’s too risky to press a load of vinyl.

Do you find that one record pays for you to do the next, or is it not that simple?

It’s not really that simple. Like, the Singing Adams will probably do well. But we’re never going to make any money.

But then it works different ways. Like, with Big Deal. They’re friends of ours, and we really wanted to put it out. And they were up for it, but then they suddenly, very quickly got kind of big. That’s frustrating, because within two weeks I was thinking we’d never be able to hold onto it. Suddenly I was going to their gigs and standing next to people from EMI.

But at the same time, it’s good for the label. You end up in a terrible conundrum. You know that thing where you find an amazing band and you want to keep them to yourself? You can’t really do that and run a label.

It’s sort of heartbreaking, because when you’re small you realise as soon as someone bigger arrives you don’t stand a chance. But then if someone came along and offered that to Wet Paint I’d probably do the same thing.

Tell me about the new Wet Paint record. To me it sounds even darker than the first.

Was the first one dark?

I thought so.

We’re all in so many other bands, the writing of it was quite scattered. Some of it feels quite old. But we always do the same thing. We write pretty quickly, and then go to the studio. We were just recording in downtime, when we could, so it kind of prolonged it.

Plus my friend Ash produced it and he was working on Metronomy at the time, so it was quite a staggered process to get this far.

But all in all, it was about a year and a half. And for me, it was that thing about being in your thirties. Turning 30 was fine, but turning 32 you realise, shit I’m actually in my thirties, I’m in a band, being around younger bands, writing comics.

When you’re 25 and everyone’s on the dole it’s easy to rehearse and get everyone together. But now, it’s quite difficult to get people to commit – except you get a lot more done when you are together.

Do you all write together?

With this one, I’d normally bring a bit of a song, but the structure would change. We’re not a jam band in any way, but we did more of this one together. And actually, a lot of it was made up in the studio. I kind of think, if I was left to my own devices I would just end up writing songs that sound exactly like Pavement. Not because I really want to, but just because I’ve had years of writing stuff on my four track that just end up sounding like Pavement by accident. So I tend to want it to be less of me. I just do the words at the end.

As an East London band, do you feel like you’re part of any sort of East London scene? Do you identify with any sort of ‘slacker revival’?

Well I thought we were part of that about two years ago. And it’s still going, they’re that slack.

Yuck are there, I suppose. Are they any good?

I like them live, not keen on the record.

I haven’t really listened to them. I’ve tried to avoid it. I think I like them, but that’s why I try to avoid it. I think they might be doing what we’re doing but better. Plus they’re younger, and someone told me they have loads of money behind them. It’s just jealousy.

I’m friends with lots of bands from East London, and I kind of always think there’s a little community, but then I listen to us and think we’ve turned into trad rock. You get a bit older and suddenly Nirvana are on the cover of Mojo, and you think, “Are we retro?” You forget that time moves on, and we don’t sound like Panda Bear.

What do you listen to?

Panda Bear. I’ve been going back to Smog, lots of quiet stuff. I’m looking forward to the new TV On The Radio. I’m quite slow with listening to new stuff.

People get so caught up in the pressure of having to hear stuff the second it comes out. It’s ridiculous in many ways.

That scares me. I suppose that’s one of the good things about not actually being that successful. The thing that scares me is just not doing it. As long as you’re doing it, and somebody cares, it’s fine. I mean, I can’t even think of anyone recently who’s done a second album.

I suppose Foals are one of the most obvious examples.

Oh, I like them. We toured with them with Bloc Party.

What sort of size venues were you doing?

Big. But it’s still like, turn up, line check, £100 a gig. We did the Olympia, and that’s like 12,000 . You’re on at 7:15, you soundcheck at 7:05, then you look out, go, “That’s big.” Then you go out and do it.

There are things you can’t turn down. There are people who would pay to go on that tour. And it was fun, but I don’t know how many times you want to play that sort of thing. There’s kids at the barrier who aren’t going anywhere because they love Bloc Party, and they just stand there looking bored. And even if it’s 12,000 capacity, there’s only maybe 7,000 people there when you play, so it feels half full despite it being 7,000 people.

Plus it’s a bloody glass roof at the Olympia. So you play and it’s like playing an open air festival. Then it goes dark and Foals come on, and the lights get started, and you think, “Well, if we had the light show…”

How are the crowds when you play outside London?

We haven’t done it for a while. We’ve got places where we do alright, like Leeds, where they have a similar slacker thing. There’s always little pockets of people who seem to like what we’re doing.

But I don’t really know what we’re doing anymore. I listen to this record and I don’t really think it sounds that much like Pavement. I always worry we sound a bit like Foo Fighters.

Woe is out now on Records Records Records. It doesn’t sound like Foo Fighters.