David Mead's new album, Indiana, is one of the records of the year, says Tony Clayton-Lea. Mead talks about life on tour and explains the motivation for his 'pretty little record'
Well, Q magazine doesn't like David Mead's new album, Indiana (too Terry Wogan for them, it seems), but they're so wrong about it that we'll simply disregard it as arrant nonsense. Indiana - and here's The Ticket's pitch - is one of the records of the year, and if Mead doesn't cross over into the mainstream it certainly won't be because he's lacking in gorgeous, concise pop tunes. And yet, like label mate Ron Sexsmith, it seems as if Mead will be content to release record after record to great acclaim but moderate sales. It's like this, folks - Mead is a bubble waiting to burst; if he does, then thank God, for he's far preferable to the likes of the current strumming brigade. If he doesn't? It's not exactly the end of the world, is it?
Long Islander Mead is in Edinburgh at the time of his chat with The Ticket. His hotel room door is being knocked upon by hotel staff who would very much like him to vacate the premises, but he's having none of it and telling them so in a firm but polite voice. We're talking about the Ron Sexsmith syndrome - how there's only so much a person can take of being fecked around by record companies, of releasing records that some music critics and discerning music fans love, but which don't necessarily translate into healthy sales; how the only way to get the music out to people is to tour relentlessly.
"I've gotten to the point where it's difficult to measure the success level in this business in a very linear fashion," says Mead, "so perhaps the best way to describe how people like me operate is that I move in circles, small and large. I'm getting used to that being part of the process. At the same time, I'm becoming more and more thankful that - five or six years into not having a day job - I'm still making a living from songwriting and singing.
"Whether Indiana sells a million copies or 10, there's probably going to be a lower and a higher level than this in the future. I'm trying to take that into account as much as possible and to enjoy the ride. You should never assume it's going to be either a slow climb or a fast bucket ride to the top. I used to be a lot less patient with it, but I'm getting better about it these days." There was a phase a while ago, relates Mead, when aspirations to pop stardom superseded pretty much everything else. It was a time, he implies, when he needed to re-examine his reasons for what he was doing.
"I would be a fool not to believe that I have somewhat of a gift and that it's probably the point of my life to make music, to get it out to people. That period of time was a point to figure those things out - which I did - and it really gave me a renewed perspective on it. And as soon as that little epiphany took place, it turned out to be a great year. I got so much work all of a sudden. And then a new record deal came along."
Sometimes the good guys win, too; it's a heartening thought, and one that struck Mead on his own personal road to nirvana. He follows more roads on Indiana, a travelogue record of sorts. To the listener, it comes across as a themed album - a neat dovetailing of life-on-the-road observations with many sparkling moments of perfect-pop folksiness. As Mead tells it, Indiana came about more by serendipity than calculation; not all the songs were written with the album in mind; one song was written in 1995, and so on. For Mead, what links the tracks together is the notion of "making a pretty little record that depends on the ballad format rather than the wider scope of pop or rock". The fact that it isn't deliberately themed is neither here nor there, he says. The bottom line is that it works. He thanks touring for the album's success (thematic or not) and it's hard to think that he would be a better songwriter if he didn't get out and about as much.
"If I sat in a room, the songs could turn out quite internalised, but Brian Wilson seems to be a good example of someone who spent a lot of time in his head and he made some amazing music. For someone like me, though, it's essential I get out there. There's something about it - and here's a levelling metaphor for your readers - that keeps my head out of my ass." Does he ever get stuck for ideas? Occasionally. "I used to get worried about it, but now I don't any more. I never get stuck for musical ideas - I always seem to have melodies floating around.
"Lyrics can be a problem, but that's getting easier as I get older. I'm getting better at being an observer - even if I have just put out a record that's pretty introspective."
Indiana is out now. David Mead (with Erin McKeon) plays Errigal Arts Festival, Letterkenny, Co Donegal, Tuesday, July 13th, Cuba, Galway, Wednesday, July 14th, Dolans, Limerick, Thursday, July 15th, Half Moon, Cork, Friday, July 16th, Sirus Arts Centre, Cobh, Co Cork, Saturday, July 17th and Whelan's, Dublin, Sunday, July 18th
