The Long Blondes are about to shrug off their tag of 'best unsigned band in England'. Guitarist Dorian Cox talks to Kevin Courtney
THERE'S something cool about being called "the best unsigned band in the country". In fact, it's so cool that if a record company came along with a contract, you'd be tempted to turn it down because then you'd be just another run-of-the-mill band with a record deal. You'd wear that tag like a badge of honour, an admonishment to a cloth-eared industry which lauds lesser bands while ignoring your Herculean efforts to save rock'n'roll. Sheffield band The Long Blondes, however, can't wait to shed the "best unsigned band" tag, before they are branded with it forever.
"We'd be quite happy not to be called that anymore," admits guitarist Dorian Cox. "We'd rather be just an average signed band. That'll do us. You don't want to be the best unsigned band in country for too long, because then people start wondering why."
This is what a record label gets when it adds The Long Blondes to its roster: a boy-girl quintet that oozes style, writes shiny, danceable pop-rock nuggets that evoke the spirits of Blondie, The Pretenders, Elastica and early Roxy Music, and features a formidable frontwoman in the leggy, pencil-skirted shape of Kate Jackson. A good deal, you'd have to agree.
The band have already released a number of ecstatically received, eminently collectable singles, the most recent of which, Separated by Motorways, has been hailed as a discordant disco-pop classic. They've supported Franz Ferdinand at London's Alexandra Palace and played live with Russell Senior, former guitarist with Pulp, whom The Long Blondes cite as their all-time biggest local heroes. They've been featured in all the music mags and supplements, usually accompanied by a strapline that reads something like "sign this band now, record company scumbags, or the dog gets it." Finally, it seems, some record company scumbag has decided to take a chance on this style-conscious quintet, and a deal is imminent.
"We're kind of on the verge of getting one now. I mean, we've kind of been inundated with offers, but we're a bit wary of picking the wrong thing. We don't want to end up like a lot of bands do, y'know, go for the first thing they're offered. Obviously, it's a bit difficult for me to say too much, but I think we're on the verge of signing one that suits us very well."
It will also suit the bosses in the band members' various day jobs very well too, because they're reportedly fed up with their employees calling in sick because they've got to play a gig somewhere, collect an NME award, or - in Kate's case - pose for a Guardian style piece. All five Blondes (none of whom are actually blonde) hold down regular jobs, but, says Cox, most of them have handed in their notice in preparation for a full-time rock'n'roll career. Cox is an administrator at Sheffield University, bassist Reenie works in the media studies department at Rotherham College, and rhythm guitarist Emma Chaplin works in an art library in Leeds.
"We're all librarians, which is probably the least rock'n'roll thing you can be. We like to reverse the trend a bit," says Cox.
Singer Jackson has probably the most interesting job - selling vintage clothes on eBay. Her eye for fashion is apparent in her onstage power-dressing. Resplendent in beret, skirt and stilettos, she's an impressive amalgam of Sixties Vogue model, Eighties executive and Siouxsie Sioux. The other band members - Cox, Reenie, Chaplin and drummer Screech - also take the trouble to dress with a bit of panache.
Although none of The Long Blondes actually hails from Sheffield, they've made it their adopted home. None of them had ever been in bands before, either - in fact, some of them had hardly played an instrument prior to meeting their fellow Long Blondes. Screech admits he exaggerated his drumming ability to be let into the band, and Chaplin often gets a little help from a chord chart taped to the stage floor. But if the playing lacks a polished professionalism, The Long Blondes' music displays more than enough elan and songwriting skill to satisfy any pop palate. They may not topple Arctic Monkeys from the top of Sheffield's indie tree, but you can bet The Long Blondes look far better on the dancefloor. If they feel any affinity with a fellow Sheffield band, it would have to be that motley crew of uncommon people led by gangly, bespectacled art-school rocker Jarvis Cocker.
When The Long Blondes finally sign on the dotted line, any minute now, they'll be bringing a whole era's worth of style and substance to the table. What they'll be looking for in return is more than the usual artistic control and wads of cash to spend on clothes. They'll be hoping for the ultimate rock'n'roll reward - immortality.
"If in 20 years' time you could go to an indie disco and hear three or four of our songs, I would be a very happy man," says Cox.
