Whichever way you look at it, 21 years is a bloody long time. Since 2005 we’ve had economic crashes, global lockdowns, political upheaval and several threats of World War III. It’s also how long it’s been since A released an album. Having formed in 1993, they toured their arses off before finally tasting chart success with 2002 album Hi-Fi Serious.
Three years later, they’d been dropped by their label and were history. But now they’re back, with Prang, a record that has the unmistakable 90s Britrock-meets-US-alternative stamp of the Suffolk five-piece.
Lead single Hello Sunshine was born out of a riff brought into the rehearsal room by guitarist Mark Chapman, a blast of distortion-laden lo-fi rock, pushed by frontman Jason Perry’s high-pitched vocals. The band – completed by more Perrys Adam (drums) and Giles (keyboards), and new boy Richard Trigg (bass) – were off and running. Before long they had an album in the bag.
“It was recorded really quickly, super-DIY,” Perry explains. “In two hours we had a song, and then the floodgates opened.”
Lyrically, A were always the archetypal cheeky chappies. Across their first three albums – How Ace Are Buildings, Vs Monkey Kong and Hi-Fi Serious – they evolved from mischievous young upstarts berating Rocky V, indie rock and GMTV (Bad Idea) to twentysomethings celebrating endless summers (I Love Lake Tahoe), before taking a swipe at corporate adulthood (Starbucks).
But that was then. Prang sees them coming from a very different place. There’s the typically-A take on modern life in the shape of Comment Leaver – a snipe at people who vent their every thought on the Daily Mail website. But today’s A are also a band more weathered by life than before; beaten, not broken, but certainly bruised by two decades out in the world.
“I’d had a bit of a rough time personally,” Jason admits. “I was trying to work out what men in their fifties that were known for their love for life sing about.”
The emotional rawness is never more apparent than on Shit Summer. The song addresses the separation from children that divorce brings (‘I’m really missing my kids and the noise that they bring/I don’t see them till Friday but it’s Wednesday and the weeks go on and on and on’], and Jason admits that it had him in tears in the vocal booth. “
I’ve never had that before where I’ve cried while recording a song,” he says. “It still makes me cry when I listen to it. I’m really proud of that song. But how do you sing a song about depression without resorting to clichés like ‘I’m banging my head on these four walls’ or whatever? Calling it Shit Summer seemed a very A way to sing about it, because it had been a shit summer, so just say that.”
Getting up from knockbacks is nothing new for A. They put in serious road miles before scoring a hit with 2002’s Nothing, a big-riffed, foot-stomping rocker of a tune. They were three albums in and suddenly enjoying the trappings of major-label success. When their label encouraged them to cancel a gig so they could appear on Top Of The Pops, the band remained resolute.
“We did Top Of The Pops with the Chili Peppers, who were on the same label as us,” Jason recalls. “The Chili Peppers cancelled a gig to do it, and the label were putting pressure on us to do the same, and we said no. There’s no way we’re cancelling a gig for a TV programme, even though since the age of eleven all I wanted to do was go on Top Of The Pops.
"We said to the label that we’re not going to pull the gig, so they gave us a helicopter. We did Top Of The Pops, ran to the limo to the heliport, jumped in a helicopter, flew to Plymouth, landed in the car park, ran on stage with five minutes to spare, did the gig. That was an expensive day, but a great day.”
The success was fleeting, however. Album four, the Terry Date-produced Teen Dance Ordinance – saw A chase a sound that wasn’t them. They sidestepped their rough-around-the-edges rock for a big-budget, highly polished, American-sounding arena record. And it fell flat. It left Jason facing a vocal identity crisis.
“I haven’t got the voice or the personality for that [kind of record],” he says. “I’m not Chris Cornell, I’m Jason. I sound like Sting and my voice is really high. We should have been making a Yes record or a Beastie Boys record or something.”
By the end of the Teen Dance Ordinance cycle, A had been dropped by their label and were flat-broke. They had to sell their equipment to pay the bills, and, as thirtysomething rockers, look to find a new path.
“The day my son was born, I went to get some money out of the cash machine to pay for the car park at the hospital and couldn’t even get ten quid out,” Jason recalls. “I’d just spent ten years doing two hundred and sixty shows a year, and I couldn’t even get ten quid out. I went to the Job Centre, and someone recognised me and started laughing. I went back to the car and cried my eyes out.”
Jason eventually found his way, becoming an in-demand songwriter and producer for the likes of McFly and Don Broco. The experience left him well-placed to produce Prang, a record with which the band rediscovered what they lost with Teen Dance Ordinance.
“You always need creative parameters,” he suggests. “I think that’s where we got lost in the end. We had big budgets, big studios. What I need is that kind of DIY, punk rock mentality where you can just do whatever makes you excited on the day. That’s what we did [with Prang]. I’m really proud of it. I can’t believe how good it is. It’s exactly what I wanted it to be.”
With the new record now released, in December they head out supporting fellow Lowestoft guys The Darkness on a run of arena dates. Jason is looking forward to getting reacquainted with old friends and playing at London’s O2 for the first time.
“Dan [Hawkins] used to live with us when we moved to London,” he says. “I got him a job at [publishing company] Rondor as an A&R assistant. I love The Darkness. It was amazing to see what happened to them and how they went crazy-big so quick. I can’t wait for that tour. I’ve never played at the O2. It’s the only London venue, really, that we haven’t played at. It was still called the Millennium Dome when we were in the band last time.”
Prang is out now via Cooking Vinyl.
