Interview: Cable

This current minor Cable phenomenon is a surprising one. When the Brit alterno-rockers split up six years ago, despite the love and support they received at the time (from fans, other bands and soft-drink firms alike), nobody could have predicted the mild to moderate Cablemania that has now surfaced among British indie-rock bands. And yet here we are with a Cable tribute album out featuring the super-successful likes of Bloc Party and Get Cape Wear Cape Fly.

These groups must have been teenagers when they first fell for the Derby four-piece, and it is this loyalty of people now in their 20s to the band's memory that has allowed this brief period of celebration. Whether it will lead to a full blown reunion is the question on everyone's lips.

The first mutterings of a thing called 'Cable' started more than 15 years ago. Initially it was Matt Bagguley (vocals/guitar) and Darius Hinks (guitar) and whoever else they could find. They soon met Pete Darrington (bass) who brought along their first proper drummer, Gorilla’s Neil Cooper.

It was during the recording of their promising debut mini-album ‘Down Lift The Up-Trodden’ that their now legendary fight with Oasis took place. Both bands were recording in neighbouring studios in Wales. Here is Pete’s version of events, as told to the Sublingual site :

“Both bands had finished recording on the same day and had gone to the local boozer to celebrate. Naturally, much booze flowed and we all got on swimmingly, so Noel invited us back to their side of the building after closing time, for 'a few more bevvies'. Anyway, we were all pretty drunk and I just remember this argument brewed up between Liam and Darius about The Beatles – well, more specifically about how ripping them off so totally was, well, a bit wank.

"Next thing we knew, fists started flying between Darius and Liam and then Bonehead went in. Liam, by now up for a fight with anyone, began swinging at his brother, who was trying to restrain him. That night they smashed the place up and sure enough it made the papers: 'Oasis split shocker!' We carried Darius off, who of course slept like a baby, albeit with a black eye. It's one misadventure I'll never forget, that's for sure.”

Neil, due to his other commitments, left the group on genuinely amicable terms. It was then that the integral element of Cable joined in the shape of effervescent drummer Richie Mills, and 1997 saw the release of the brilliantly angular, forthright yet vaguely arty indie-punk of the ‘When Animals Attack’ album.

Cable’s decision to build on their success resulted in the brilliant ‘Sublingual’ album. It took the edgy punkiness of ‘When Animals Attack’ and made it weirder and a lot poppier. The Sonic Youth and Fugazi influences were leavened by a dash of Stereolab’s swinging pizzazz, and it was a warmer record full of the hope and ambition the band obviously had at that time. And then the script got mercilessly torn up, and out of nowhere the shit hit the fan when their manager sued them – and they lost, owing him thousands of pounds. This is where we come in…

What were your feelings when you first realised that Cable would no longer be able to continue?
Pete Darrington: Relieved, because the nightmare of endless lawyer sessions, court preparations and constant fear of bankruptcy were finally going to be gone. I then kind of swapped that for a feeling of being robbed and a general kind of lost feeling. I had spent so long trying to make something out of the group that I suddenly had no idea what I was going to do with my life. Getting on for 30 and suddenly having no idea how you were going to pay the bills – that was a big black cloud.

How does it feel now looking back at the whole dreadful affair?
I still find it incredibly difficult to be nostalgic. When I do see videos or hear recordings, sometimes it makes me angry. I have lost count of the amount of people who I have met and when they have asked what I did in the Nineties, I lie. I make it up. Because I can’t be bothered to drag the whole story up again. I was talking to one of the guys who is in Pocket Promise, and he asked me how their version of our song made me feel. I don’t think he was ready for my reply – I said ‘jealous’.

Do you think about the band much?
Not really – that is, not until our manager Martin died [not the one that sued them]. That bought us all together again and then this record started to happen. Suddenly I discovered there were websites and forums and bands named after Cable songs and God knows what else. It was weird. I thought we’d been left to rot in peace and vanish from indie-rock history.

It must be weird that teenagers who loved your band in the Nineties are now twentysomethings who still hold such affection for your little old art-rock band?
No, if they’d all have contributed a pound each, we could have afforded to keep going and release a fourth album – so it’s their fault! But hey, it’s not too late to send £1 to Cable, PO BOX 207 Derby. You can also donate over the phone, just call 0800-CABLE-SCAM.

Does the Oasis fight still haunt your dreams?
No. Never. I’m annoyed now that we didn’t make a huge press story out of it, and that they went on to be so fucking huge while being so completely talentless. I think the general public have finally woken up and realised they have spent 10 years in bed with Status Quo.

How do you feel about the tribute album and the contributing artists?
Great. It’s an honour. When do I get the money?

Will Cable ever consider reforming and joining the indie-rock nostalgia circuit?
Never say never. I need a new bathroom suite for a start. Matt uses the lame excuse that he lives too far away – for fuck's sake, hasn’t he heard of Skype? He could sing from his laptop in Norway and we’d have one mic’d up here. You could even see him mumbling the words he can’t remember with a webcam. The technology is there. The other day I saw a USB guitar lead – he could use that. Or, failing that, we could hire that disco dancing robot from Honda and teach it to dress like Matt. What are we waiting for?