It’s Friday night, and Raymond Meade has been asked to step in to perform at King Tut’s at very short notice.
The set – which Meade tells us there hasn’t been time to rehearse – is warmly received by the crowd, particularly a cover of ‘Thousands Are Sailing’, a tribute to late Philip Chevron.
As bassist Steph McKellar steps aside to allow Meade to perform a few songs alone, a song request is shouted from the front row – “Come Undone!” he pauses for a second, smirking: “I’m coming undone up here, mate”.
“To be honest, I get really nervous,” Meade tells me, sitting in a coffee shop on Byres Road.
“I like the thought of being a songwriter and other people doing the live shows for me; it’s just hassle.”
This from a man whose former band, The Ronelles, played to over ten thousand people in the SECC, supporting Kings Of Leon.
Arriving on the music scene in the mid-noughties, Glasgow quartet The Ronelles got the attention of many big names.
With their melodic, rock ‘n’ roll sound, the band found themselves inundated with offers of record deals and touring slots.
“There were major labels in for us,” he recalls.
“Every other night there was someone up from London buying us dinner, taking us out.”
Supporting the likes of the aforementioned Kings Of Leon, The Zutons, The Proclaimers and many others, The Ronelles built up a UK-wide following, garnering praise and attention from the media.
Yet nearly a decade later the band is no more.
Meade makes no bones about this: “I’ll be honest – we weren’t good enough; The Fratellis came along, The View, The Libertines… they were just better than us. It was that simple.”
Living the lifestyle and not concentrating on the music played a part too, he admits.
“If we’d paid more attention to the music rather than going out every night, things could have been different.”
There’s no bitterness in Meade’s words; he’s an artist who has seen more than his fair share of the music world and appears an introspective character.
His words carry the weight, authority and wisdom of experience.
Post-Ronelles, Meade remained linked to the music world – touring with Proud Mary, working as Jon Fratelli’s guitar tech and the occasional solo support slot.
Was he still writing songs during this time? “No, definitely not; I just put my guitar away for a few years. I didn’t write a thing.”
The offer of a support slot for Shane McGowan was the catalyst for Meade to get back into songwriting: “he’s one of my heroes; I couldn’t not do it.”
Cue a mix-up with McGowan’s band and Meade found himself on stage with the man himself, playing through the set, “it was a dream come true”, he smiles.
Fast forward to 2011, and Raymond Meade had accumulated enough songs to release his debut solo record, Fables & Follies, with guest appearances from Philip Chevron, Iain Banks and Jon Fratelli, Meade saw an opportunity to set the record straight.
“The Ronelles had almost become a parody; I think people had the wrong idea of us; I felt I had more to offer.”
Yet in the relatively short period of time from the release of The Ronelles last record to the release of Fables & Follies (around five years), the music game had changed greatly.
“Nobody was interested,” Meade shrugs, “I thought having the guys that I had on the album would at least get it listened to, but I felt old; I wasn’t even thirty. It was an eye opener.”
The reason behind this, Meade believes, is a fundamental change in music: “Modern music is fucking shite. There’s nobody. No characters or personalities. And worst of all – there’s no songs. Rock and roll is dead. It’s a carcass.”
Might the internet have played a part in its demise? “It’s got a lot to do with it. Everybody gets their 15-minutes now. The internet has become a platform for mediocrity.”
Casting a scathing eye over the charts and popular music today, his sharp wit and views are Noel Gallagher-esque.
I ask him what he thinks of the approach artists such as Thom Yorke have taken, releasing music for free.
“It’s easy to give it away when you’ve had a record deal for 20 odd years; he {Yorke} always seems so put upon. ‘I’m just going to have to give the new record away, I don’t know what to do with it.’ I’ll tell you what to do with it – put it in the fucking bin. It’s rubbish.”
Meade’s cynicism is understandable; gone are the days of bands like Oasis – lads who had nothing but talent and made it big.
Modern music has fast become something which is simply fed to the masses; the real talent often remains unseen, failing to gain the exposure it deserves simply because it doesn’t fit the profile of what record labels perceive the public to want.
Turning the discussion to the creative process, Meade talks of his approach to songwriting: “If I’m writing a song and it’s not happening, I won’t sit and force a song out; I need to want to listen to it.”
Given the consistent quality of Meade’s songs, particularly lyrically, this surprises me.
How long did it take to write a song that he would consider one of his greatest, the as yet unreleased ‘Shine A Light On Me’ (which appears on the forthcoming album)?
“Two minutes. Five minutes max. I think it’s the best song I’m likely to write. I’ve just been looking to find the right version of it.”
Where does the inspiration come from for songs?
“Lots of places. Getting older, losing people, things coming and going. For me, music has been one of the only constants in my life. It’s the longest I’ve ever stuck at something. And I don’t necessarily to it by choice.”
Having returned to the studio early this year with Owen Morris producing, Meade’s new album WHYDOLISE is expected out in summer 2015.
The music scene is crying out for more artists like him; musicians with an ear for melody and a talent for songwriting.
People who are not only unafraid to speak out against the slow decline of the music industry, but who are proactive in their attempts to improve its output.
Meade believes there are no characters or personalities in music anymore. No melody. No songs. And he’s right.
What the mainstream music scene is missing is a character. What the mainstream music scene is missing are songs. What the mainstream music scene is missing is Raymond Meade.
Words: David Graham
