Cerys Matthews - Welsh singer - Brief Article - Interview

Interview, June, 2000 by Vivien Goldman

HERE COMES ROCK'S NEXT WILD CHILD

Now, this is pop! A champagne cork shoots high and fast through the blond decor of the Four Seasons Hotel in New York City, aimed by an expert thumb-flip from Cerys Matthews, the notorious Welsh party girl and flamboyant lead singer of the band Catatonia. Endearingly enthusiastic, she's all energy, flinging her feet in devilish, spiky red ankle boots over the arm of a chair, imperiously waving hands accented by Jade Jagger beads as she sends the champagne back to room service and demands a less vinegary vintage. In Britain's increasingly "laddish" culture, Cerys has carved out a unique niche: the girl who's one of the lads down at the pub but still a feline, husky-voiced female whom men want and whom women like.

After years spent languishing in obscurity, the savagely witty Catatonia abruptly catapulted to celebrity in 1998 with their rousing "Mulder and Scully," which channeled red-hot X-Files fever. They rapidly plugged into the zeitgeist again with "Road Rage," where Cerys's full-blooded contralto--a Welsh national treasure--trembled with passion. While Catatonia's new, self-titled American release (just released from Atlantic) includes these U.K. hits, Cerys is worried that the songs' individuality will fall between the cracks of the rigid U.S. radio system. But with Catatonia's ringing melodies and tantalizing lyrics, it's very likely that Cerys will yet realize one of Catatonia's catchiest new lines: "She's on it, she's on it--she's a millionaire."

VIVIEN GOLDMAN: I hear you're the animals' friend.

CERYS MATTHEWS: Yes. I worked with the London Zoo Conservation Society, and I "adopted" a white-faced monkey last year. I've got to start adopting some more.

VG: How was the monkey on the shoot?

CM: I had a baby chimpanzee. She was brilliant, but she was just like a little baby. She had her fingers in her mouth and then, 'cause I had to pull her diaper off, she peed on my back.

VG: No, she didn't! [both laugh]

CM: The next person after me had the orangutan, and I was glad I didn't have her, because orangutans get territorial and jealous around other females. Cows are quite lovely. My cousins have a dairy farm. They had the tamest cow, called Nasty, whom we rode.

VG: Growing up in Wales, were you exposed to the famous Welsh choirs?

CM: Yeah, always. If you're Welsh, you're force-fed choirs, hymns, and recitals--that's the tradition. I used to sing a song called "Gefynen" at these kiddies' competitions. It means butterfly in Welsh.

VG: Have you got that famous Celtic soul?

CM: The Celtic soul is at the bottom of a jar of beer. That was me last night.

VG: So you've got a pretty good alcohol threshold, have you?

CM: No--that's why I've got a bad reputation.

VG: Is loads of alcohol part of the pub culture you grew up in?

CM: Yeah, absolutely.

VG: Do people still sing in the pub?

CM: The problem with the invention of the jukebox is that there used to be a lot of three-part harmony singing in the pub. Everything nowadays is marketing, promoting, and image.

VG: The whole community vibe of people making music together is gone.

CM: I think that we should be taught the old songs in schools so that when you go to a football match, the kids know them. Singing together is a gift. I look at my grandparents, the old men and fishermen in the pubs, and all their old songs, and I just don't want it to die. It gives you a feeling of where you belong, apart from your job. It's like God's gift--sex, drugs, and singing.

VG: You met the guitarist Mark Roberts, whom you fell in love with and founded the group with, while you were out busking. Since you split up from Mark, you've got this interesting situation in your group--what I call the Eurythmics factor.

CM: Ah, Eurythmics, Fleetwood Mac, Jefferson Airplane[ldots] the list goes on. I think having a relationship with any member of your band is quite intense. You put the pain and the mutual love for music completely in the songs.

VG: Was there ever a time when things were going badly with Mark, when you felt like leaving the group?

CM: Oh, God, yeah. I mean, he dumped me and had a new girlfriend and then we went on tour about a day or two later. So you're stuck in a very small space, singing songs you've written together. I spent time with a hat over my eyes and shades on, just to try and get space. But it's great now.

VG: Do you think that you and Mark still manage to work creatively together because you've weathered every storm?

CM: Hopefully not every storm. Right when you don't expect it, you meet another storm.

Vivien Goldman, author of The Black chord (Rizzoli), interviewed Barry white for the August 1999 issue. Cerys Matthews. photographed with Natsu the baby chimp, wears a dress by Sergio Valente and a bracelet by Cartier.