Tim Burgess was born in 1967 in Salford, Greater Manchester, and grew up in Northwich, Cheshire. After a stint as the lead singer in the Electric Crayons, he joined the Charlatans. Burgess’s career has included 22 top 40 hits, two solo albums, and collaborations with the likes of the Chemical Brothers and Kurt Wagner of Lambchop. In 2011 Burgess launched record label O Genesis, and released a series of 7-inch singles that reflect his own diverse musical tastes. O Genesis also released his most successful solo album, Oh No I Love You. His regular DJ sets have led to him presenting shows on BBC Radio 6 Music. Since taking time out to publish his autobiography, Telling Stories, Burgess has been focusing on his work with the Charlatans, who release their 12th album, Modern Nature, on 26 January.
THE SONG THAT TURNED ME ON TO THE PRE-PUNK ERA
The Monkees, Pleasant Valley Sunday (1967)
My friend Howard had a Triumph GT6. He was 19 and I was 15; I liked punk and wore Dr Martens; he wore wayfarers and listened only to music from the 60s – the themes from The Prisoner and The Persuaders!, whereas I’d just bought The Day the Country Died by Subhumans. He thought he needed to show me cooler stuff that I’d need in adulthood. Anyway, he has a tape on in his car. The Dave Clark Five finished and Pleasant Valley Sunday started. It was a thrill. Swagger and neat riffs – they were bathed in sunshine. The Monkees became an obsession for me for a while – I had beads and polo necks like Peter Tork and a Mike Nesmith bobble hat. Never to be worn at the same time though.
THE TRACK THAT I PLAYED OVER AND OVER AGAIN
Buzzcocks, Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve) (1978)
My nan, who lived in Doffcocker near Bolton, asked me what I wanted for Christmas when I was 11. In hindsight I should have asked for the money but it still makes me smile to think that she went into WH Smith asking for [the album] Love Bites by Buzzcocks. I’d had a TDK C60 on to which I’d ripped Ever Fallen In Love from the chart rundown and I’d been playing it on repeat so I think everyone was glad when I got the album and had other songs to play. It almost has a feel of 60s girl-group songs – a kind of jaded innocence. They were on the bill at a festival that we played at in 1990, they had Mike Joyce on drums. I’d not seen them before but I remember running over to watch them not long after we’d played, thinking that if we were playing at the same places they were, then we’d really made it.
THE ONE THAT MADE ME THINK I COULD BE IN A BAND
New Order, Age of Consent (1983)
The opening track of Power, Corruption & Lies. From that opening bassline, I was in love. Half the band were from Salford, where I was born, and half from Macclesfield, near where I lived when this came out. It made me think I could be in a band – that people from where I was could do that. I saw them headline Glastonbury in 1987 and they played this near the end. It was a real moment. [New Order drummer] Stephen Morris played drums on a couple of songs on the new Charlatans album and I did a couple of New Order songs with him at the Royal Albert Hall. I was like a football fan playing centre forward for their favourite team.
THE BAND WHO STOPPED ME IN MY TRACKS
Factory Floor, Two Different Ways (2011)
I’d always had a love of bands like Throbbing Gristle and Cabaret Voltaire – they had a coldness to their music but with an amazing heart and what they did seemed more like art rather than just songs. I heard Factory Floor and they stopped me in my tracks. I went to see them at the Electric Ballroom in London and their live performance transcended the recordings I’d heard. Only the singer, Nik Colk Void, had a light on her. The other two were in complete darkness, creating a sound that was both vital and immediate – the performance seemed to take place just in that moment. They became my favourite band and when I moved back to the UK I moved into the warehouse/ studio where they were recording their debut album. They are supporting the Charlatans in Manchester, London and Glasgow on our tour. They’ll definitely shake things up a bit before we play.
THE ARTIST WHO INSPIRED MY LATEST COLLABORATION
Arthur Russell, I Couldn’t Say It To Your Face (2008)
I’m not sure I can think of a song with more desperate beauty. I first heard Arthur Russell in Los Angeles sometime in 2003 and he is the master of so many styles – experimental, post-disco, electronic and country – this song has a matter-of-fact delivery with some of the most heartbreaking lyrics. Arthur died of Aids-related illness in 1992 but his legend grows each day. A friend mentioned that they were in contact with Peter Gordon, a brilliant artist in his own right, but who was a key member of Arthur Russell’s band – I got a message to him and asked if he’d like to work on a couple of songs with me. To cut a long and heartwarming story short, we collaborated on a single that’s coming out on Record Store Day that also features Mustafa Ahmed from Arthur’s band on percussion.
THE SONG THAT TRANSPORTS ME TO A DIFFERENT PLACE
Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Ohio (1970)
What’s not to love? A Hollie, a Byrd, and not just Neil Young but the Neil Young with Stephen Stills to top it all off – it just transports you to Laurel Canyon, it makes you want to stick your finger in your ear and join in on the harmonies. Stephen Stills once came bounding into our dressing room at Brixton Academy and told us he thought we were “rad”. I’m still not sure if I’ve recovered from that. I ran into Graham Nash while we were both having a look round the Royal Albert Hall – he was playing the following day and us the week after. We talked music and records for a few minutes then went our separate ways. So just Neil Young and David Crosby to go for the set – I’ve offered them a chance to join a supergroup I’m working on but not heard anything back yet.
THE RECORD THAT SHOWED ME HOW A BAND CAN EVOLVE
The Clash, Washington Bullets (1980)
Like any self-respecting 13-year-old self-proclaimed punk in 1980, I had the first three Clash albums and was eager to get my hands on their next offering. They’d shed their sub-three-minute Westway bile and recast themselves as some kind of proto-revolutionary music collective for Sandinista!. This song sums up that album for me – a sociopolitical history lesson, elements of what you might file under “world music” and a band not afraid to shed their skin. I used to meet up with Joe Strummer at Glastonbury at his campfire. I never really said to him how much his music meant to me, he was more about planning for the future. He used to come and hang out with us when [his backing band] the Mescaleros played in LA and he always had a bunch of songs that he was working on that he’d really want you to hear.
