Colin’s ‘Loss’ Biog (2001)

Big sheep, thick beards, sturdy walking boots, misty rain, men painting boats, women called Morag and, of course, folk dancing in clothing made entirely of natural fibres. A bit of Local Hero here, a touch of Magnus Mills there and bingo, that’s the West of Scotland sorted.
 
Then again, maybe there’s more. Colin MacIntyre, AKA Mull Historical Society, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer, was born and bred on the island. His formative musical experiences were watching his uncle’s covers band rehearsing and gigging around the island.
 
“I can remember seeing all these guitars and just falling in love with them,” he recalls. “I can still see this wallet full of songsheets about a foot high they used. That’s really how I got into music, through listening to them playing these mainstream rock classics.”
 
Whether it was the environment, or the fact he chose not to pay any attention we may never know. But as he taught himself how to play, then write his own songs, he remained largely impervious to the ebb and flow of music beyond his own patch.
 
He then moved to Glasgow, studied politics, enhanced his footballing reputation and knocked about the employment ladder with no discernable game plan or ambition. A stint at BT doing directory enquiries had a profound effect as he continued to write and record his songs on a four-track recorder at home.
 
“I love the language of BT,” he explains. “There’s this scary corporate conviction to the company that you can’t help admiring, even if you find it goes against everything you believe in. I’ve kept their mission statement and every time it mentions BT I’ve changed it to Mull Historical Society.”
 
Before Mull was conceived, there was Colin’s other Glasgow-based bands, 7-11 and Smells Like Marzipan. Colin remained contentedly stuck somewhere between keen and ambitious, with over 300 unreleased compositions in the bank. Something had to give.
 
“I wrote the song Mull Historical Society and thought it was a good band name. I did have doubts whether it was too long, but people seemed to like it. Smells Like Marzipan never really meant anything and I always felt a bit daft phoning people up saying ‘Hi, this is Colin from 7-11’. After a while, a name’s just a name anyway.”
 
Well, not quite. For a start there actually is a real Mull Historical Society, whose column in the local paper on Mull fed Colin’s imagination enough to write the original song. Think of a geographical version of Ziggy, Aladin Sane or even Slim Shady and you’re halfway there.
 
“With Mull Historical Society I’ve definitely got an agenda,” he explains somewhat cryptically. “As much as my family has a history or tradition on Mull and I grew up there, I don’t want to be seen as parochial or twee. That’s not part of the plan. Anyway, almost everything I’ve ever written has been in Glasgow. But people seemed to be intrigued.”
 
So much so, that a 6 album deal for Colin with Rough Trade (later transferring to Blanco Y Negro/WEA) soon followed and finally, after one of the longest gestation periods in musical history, November 13, 2000 marked the release of the first song from the mighty MacIntyre catalogue of bedroom compositions.
 
Even by the standards of biographical hyperbole, ‘Barcode Bypass’ was something of a triumph, receiving rave reviews across the board, NME debut single of the year, Radio 1 airplay and, most pleasantly, the full-hearted support of MTV, who fell in love with Mull’s low-budget snowscape of a video with Colin in a struggle with a sheep in a cottage.
 
Two further singles, ‘I Tried’ (March 2001) and ‘Animal Cannabus’ (July 2001), built further momentum, while live appearances with Travis, The Strokes, Tindersticks, Elbow and Terris furthered Mull’s reputation as original exponents of their art. The screen acting as a live backdrop displaying the real Mull Historical Society website. The last single taken from the album was “Watching Xanadu.”(Jan 2002). This entered the UK Singles Chart at No.36. It was Colin’s Coleridgian/Olivia Newton-John tribute. It received wide airplay and was various station’s Single of the Week; and, once again, the video(featuring Colin dressed as a human rabbit on Walthamstowe Greyhound track) was all over our TV screens.
 
Mull Historical Society’s debut album, ‘Loss’, was recorded in Glasgow’s Gravity Studios, with Colin writing and arranging the whole affair, carrying the majority of the instrumental burden and producing. If you can forgive the backhanded compliment, that’s not the way it sounds.
 
It’s a bold record that sits comfortably with the best of Colin’s better-known contemporaries. Less troubled than Pulp, more thoughtful than Travis and easier on the ear than Radiohead. Memorable songwriting, in the popular tradition, unburdened by any particular style or sound. “Loss” has since gone on to receive tremendous critical acclaim and has found its way into many “albums of the year” polls and at July, 2002, has gone silver and is nearing 75,000 sales in the UK alone. Here’s just handful of the mighty plaudits:
 
Q Magazine said of “Loss”: “Sumptuous choruses & choirs – Time to apply for membership.”
 
Uncut : “One of the best British records of the year.”
 
The Face : “A Tarten-clad debut of aspiring proportions.”
 
Time Out : “Mull are a beacon of originality in a tiresome sea of dross.”
 
The Guardian : “MacIntyre is a major new British songwriting force.”
 
NME : “One of the albums of the year. 8/10. All hail Colin!”
 
For Colin it’s a piece of work that he feels accurately represents the last 15 years – no mean achievement when you consider two hundred and ninety odd songs lay on the cutting room floor upon its completion.
 
“It’s great to get them out there,” he admits. “There’s no sense of mystery anymore. I still feel very much like an outsider looking in, which is probably part of the appeal of being Mull Historical Society. I’ve already started writing the next one.”


What follows are random thoughts and quotes from each song on “Loss”. They provide questions and suggestions - the answers you’ll have to find out for yourself.
 
Public Service Announcer

Quote: “Can anyone tell if my stereo’s on?”
“I’m fascinated by corporate structures and office politics - the office jobs-worth battling for power. The quote refers to the people who work on public transport who wear their personal stereos while they’re driving, like they’ve found some kind of freedom.” 
 
Watching Xanadu

Quote: “If I could just be what you don’t want me to be”
“When you fly you’re basically leaving the planet, that was one aspect of the song. There’s another theme, which is about the homeless. And in some ways it’s a love story as well. Confusing isn’t it…”
 
Instead

Quote: ‘Hold on to the loneliness’
“I got the instead bit from Shop On The Corner, a typically 40’s Jimmy Stewart film. I like the fact it hasn’t got any answers, it’s just making lots of open-ended statements. It’s quite melancholic. We got some choirboys from Paisley to sing on it for dramatic effect.”
 
I Tried

Quote: ‘Me, me, me; I’m determined to be a loser’
“The video involves me in combat with a sheep, which confused the whole thing. It’s just about a really twisted relationship – I wanted the cover of the single to be a photograph of Alex Hurricane Higgins crying to his family when he won the World Snooker Championship. He got his wife back just for that night, but you know the next morning he was just going to fuck it all up again.”
 
This Is Not Who We Were

Quote: “This is not who we’re meant to be.”
“It’s very much a 1984 image again – workers as subjects. There’s a definite social political edge to a lot of my songs.”
 
Barcode Bypass

Quote: “And let me get my gloves and walk the dogs for miles – slower every day”
“It’s the story of a traditional shopkeeper being sent to an early grave by the stress of having to compete for business with a modern supermarket. It’s not directly related to Mull – it’s a universal theme these days.”
 
Only I

Quote: “Only I know how hard I try to get nowhere”
“It’s a career summary. As much as I feel I have to be as truthful about my songs as possible, it’s weird talking about something like the death of my father [Kenny MacIntyre, political and industrial correspondent for the BBC], which is a theme that runs throughout the album. He was always there for everybody – you could put the world on his shoulders and he’d carry the burden effortlessly.”
 
Animal Cannabus

Quote: “I’ve retired to a better life hiding from the world”
“Try and do your own thing. Don’t conform, you’ll find something even better. It’s an island thing. Simple as that.”
 
Strangeways Inside

Quote: “The man from England says there’s no sign of bodies”
“It’s a romantic story about two people on the run – having a day to enjoy it before the inevitability of capture closes in on them. The quote is a radio or TV report on the story.”
 
Mull Historical Society

Quote: “Join us with your point of view”
“The society has requested a copy of ‘Barcode Bypass’ so they can play it at their annual dinner. That’s exactly the sort of relationship we have – one of mutual, distant respect.”
 
Paper Houses

Quote: “It’s hard on the brain buying the right magazines”
“On my songwriting book I’ve got ‘no fashion, no style, no art’ written on that page. I got quite a lot of it from Clive James Postcard from Las Vegas – as much as you can have a great time there’s no soul to the place. And that sums up a lot about what I think.”