Dance duo Chase & Status are going head to head with the Rolling Stones at Glastonbury. But they're too busy with their third album, record label and free school to worry about a little competition
Saul Milton is working through the timeline of his band, Chase & Status, when a revelation strikes him. "Well, our first release would have been …" he says, before exclaiming: "Actually, we started 10 years ago!"
Will Kennard, the Status half of the duo, is having none of this. "No," he says, and then he stops. "Actually, fucking hell, yes! It's 10 years!"
They might have only just realised it, but 2013 is a big year for Chase & Status. It is now a decade since Kennard and Milton quit university in Manchester and moved to London, their heavy but tune-stuffed take on drum'n'bass and dubstep eventually scoring the duo platinum sales and top 10 hits in the UK and high-profile encounters in the States. It's a big year in other ways, too. Their third album is on its way; the duo's own label, MTA, is home to a host of electronic pop talent including Nero; and this weekend they headline Glastonbury's Other stage. Still, the band won't be breaking out the kazoos and party poppers quite yet.
"We don't celebrate anything," Will announces. "We've never sat back and gone, you know what, we've smashed it, let's celebrate. Glastonbury might be a good place to do that, I suppose. I'll be in a tepee with my girlfriend from Thursday through to Saturday. Hopefully I'll still be standing by the time we're on stage."
"It's a real festival," is Saul's take. "It's a muso festival. Didn't Jagger also say he was going to stay the whole time in a tepee or some shit?"
Chase & Status will be up against "Jagger" and co on Saturday night, although it's not a clash that is giving them sleepless nights. If someone said they were off to see the Stones instead, Will explains, "I'd say 'have fun!' I'd much rather be up against them than Arctic Monkeys. They're clearly a very old act and I'd reckon most 18- to 22-year-olds probably aren't too fussed about going to see the Rolling Stones."
"Anyway," Saul says, "we've got big plans for the show: extra production, extra bells, extra whistles."
Extra lasers?
"Yes, obviously, shitloads more lasers."
I've joined the duo today in their tastefully understated studio, with its one platinum disc on one wall, and its framed poster for Harry Brown, the film to which they contributed End Credits in 2009, on another. There are small clues that humans work here – a tub of Dax hair wax on a shelf, a bin overflowing with coffee cups – but it is, in fact, a make-do studio while a new one is being built around the corner. "We had to move out of our last studio because who-cares-why," Saul explains, rather dismissively. "Basically, the landlord had to get everyone out."
His purposefully nonchalant version of events masterfully sidesteps two entertaining details. First, the "who-cares-why" is that their former home, in County Hall, was being turned into the relocated London Dungeon. Chase & Status: FORCED OUT BY GHOULS! Second, "the landlord" was one Pete Waterman. "He had loads of empty studios," Saul remembers. "We said: give it to us for for a decent amount and we'll fill them. In two weeks we'd moved in Sub Focus, Shy FX, Nero, Breakage, then Caspa."
Pete subsequently claimed to have "invented drum'n'bass and dubstep", a quintessentially wild Waterman pronouncement which did at least have foundation in the fact that an exciting musical scene was happening under his roof. "He's a man of few words," Will explains. Are we discussing the same Pete Waterman? "Well, he was with us at least. He was cool – he liked the fact that we were on the radio."
And Chase & Status were on the radio with alarming regularity. Their 2008 debut album, More Than Alot, spawned its fair share of club hits and collaborations with the likes of Kano and Plan B. But it was the top 10 hit End Credits that opened the door to platinum success with second album No More Idols, and the top five single Blind Faith, a song whose acid house-inspired video sent the nation's fortysomething rave survivors into a tailspin of misty-eyed nostalgia.
This success, in turn, earned Chase & Status a global reputation that led to work in a more modern type of hit factory: intense US writing camps led by the production team Stargate, resulting in three cuts on Rihanna's stylishly gloomy Rated R album.
"Those writing camps are 24 hours a day, in a bowl, for two weeks," Will remembers. "You need to be producing two full songs a day, from scratch, fully vocalled, or they're like 'what the hell are you doing?'"
One resulting song, written with Stargate and Drake for Rihanna, ended up as Rita Ora's debut single, though Chase & Status were surprised when another – Nothing But The Girl – originally intended for Lupe Fiasco, then Rihanna, then Ne-Yo – ended up with Alexandra Burke.
"It wasn't about the money," Will says. "We didn't think it was going to be a big single or anything."
"And," Saul mutters, "it wasn't."
"So she came in and sang it. We didn't particularly like anything about it, or her, to be honest, but whatever," Will says. "It was done."
In 2013, the duo are more focused on releasing music under the Chase & Status banner. Right now they're back on the radio – no doubt to the approval of their former landlord – with the sublime new single Lost & Not Found, which warmly hints at the strong Bristol sound that courses through their forthcoming, not-quite-finished third album.
"A lot of this album recalls that run from the early 90s to the end of the 90s," Saul says. "From Massive Attack, Portishead and Tricky, all the way up to 1999 when you'd be going to The End, head to toe in Moschino. Every now and again I'll remember something about a rave I was at when I first heard a tune, or when our first tune got played in a club. It's that shit which makes you want to do it again."
And this of course marks the big difference between the 90s sound championed by the likes of AlunaGeorge and Disclosure, and the same 90s sound woven through Chase & Status's music: Will and Saul are fondly repurposing a scene they've lived and danced through once already, Moschino and all, while the new wave are romantically delving into a pop era that was in full effect when the Disclosure brothers' brand of choice was Fisher-Price.
One wonders how Will and Saul feel when they see Disclosure widely hailed as – finally! – the sort of electronic band people can once again believe in. Do they feel like sticking their hands up and saying, "Er, hello – we've been doing all right over the last couple of years"?
"We've been away a bit," Will says. "And their success is fully deserved. Also, it keeps you on your toes."
In fact, the handful of new songs they play today indicate a band not so much on their toes as perfectly relaxed with where they are, although when Will says that "it's nice to go back to using actual instruments and not rely on screechy synthetic sounds", a feeling of despondency and aimlessness washes over me. "Well," Will promises, "we've got those as well." One such tune, featuring Clipse's Pusha T, is all sirens, cocaine references, whooshing and floor-shaking production combining trap, hop-hop and dubstep.
The finished album is due with the label in just two weeks and is, as Saul notes, "not fucking finished", so it is perhaps just as well that Chase & Status flourish when the pressure is on – something they found out the hard way during the sessions for No More Idols.
"Everyone was talking about second album syndrome," Will says. "As it turns out, basically, you lose the plot."
"And we lost the plot," Saul confirms.
"We second-guessed everything," Will admits. "Over-analysed everything. We scrapped every single song, we wrote Blind Faith and decided we hated it, we told our manager we were quitting. Every song we did, we'd listen to from the perspective of some cool kid on a blog going 'you sellouts, I hate you'."
They mention this idea of cool kids on blogs a few times during our time together. "I haven't read our Facebook for two years," Saul admits at one point. "The messages are just 'You're shit!' 'You've sold out!'" Though the dissenting voices are real – you can't have a cut on an Alexandra Burke album without raising a few eyebrows – it also seems as if by imagining the thoughts of teenage keyboard warriors, Will and Saul are really finding a way to evaluate their work through the eyes of their own 17-year-old selves. Again, though, they seem to thrive on this pressure: their new music sounds just as impulsive and natural as No More Idols did.
"We tend to throw ourselves into these awful situations where there are so many deadlines and people relying on us," Will laughs. "And we're shitting our pants about letting everyone down, but actually we've achieved a lot because of that attitude. That's why it's good being two people – at least when the shit is hitting the fan someone else is fucked as well. You end up laughing at the insanity of it all, crying 'WE'RE SO FUCKED!'."
With this in mind, it's fair to say that if you were Chase & Status and you had a third album on its way – along with your own label and roster of artists requiring attention – you wouldn't, for instance, also be embarking on anything as ambitious as starting up a school. Except, of course, this is just what Will is doing.
"Fuck!" he exclaims, in fantastically non-teacherly fashion, when this topic is brought up. "It's been a long process. I did some teaching of music technology in Manchester, and it was kids from deprived areas of the city. When I moved away I stayed in touch but they ended up in not the best situations – gangs, or jail, or low-paid jobs. I thought, what a waste of talent. But my brother works in education. He introduced me to some people, then the free schools initiative took off, and that was the perfect model to put these ideas into practice."
After two years, Will recently got the green light, and his school – the East London Academy of Music – is due to open in 15 months. "We have to build the building, hire the staff, get the kids in," he says. "And it can't be delayed."
And as for that 10th birthday celebration? What would be the most Chase & Status way of marking 10 years in the game?
"I think we'll shake each other's hand," Saul decides."Glastonbury aside, we'll probably celebrate it by not celebrating," Will says. "We have bottles of champagne given to us; we never open them. Jay-Z gave us a bottle to celebrate something. We put it in storage. We felt like we didn't do enough for it – we wanted to produce his biggest single ever and we didn't. You always want more. You always have higher goals and expectations. Every time we meet a target it feels like a stepping stone to something else."
Have they reached any of their goals with their new album?
"Not yet!" Saul exclaims. "It's not bloody finished!"
Acknowledging the very subtle subtext of this statement, perhaps it's time to leave Chase & Status to finish their work. Even if it's just the latest stepping stone to something else. Reported by guardian.co.uk 1 hour ago.
Saul Milton is working through the timeline of his band, Chase & Status, when a revelation strikes him. "Well, our first release would have been …" he says, before exclaiming: "Actually, we started 10 years ago!"
Will Kennard, the Status half of the duo, is having none of this. "No," he says, and then he stops. "Actually, fucking hell, yes! It's 10 years!"
They might have only just realised it, but 2013 is a big year for Chase & Status. It is now a decade since Kennard and Milton quit university in Manchester and moved to London, their heavy but tune-stuffed take on drum'n'bass and dubstep eventually scoring the duo platinum sales and top 10 hits in the UK and high-profile encounters in the States. It's a big year in other ways, too. Their third album is on its way; the duo's own label, MTA, is home to a host of electronic pop talent including Nero; and this weekend they headline Glastonbury's Other stage. Still, the band won't be breaking out the kazoos and party poppers quite yet.
"We don't celebrate anything," Will announces. "We've never sat back and gone, you know what, we've smashed it, let's celebrate. Glastonbury might be a good place to do that, I suppose. I'll be in a tepee with my girlfriend from Thursday through to Saturday. Hopefully I'll still be standing by the time we're on stage."
"It's a real festival," is Saul's take. "It's a muso festival. Didn't Jagger also say he was going to stay the whole time in a tepee or some shit?"
Chase & Status will be up against "Jagger" and co on Saturday night, although it's not a clash that is giving them sleepless nights. If someone said they were off to see the Stones instead, Will explains, "I'd say 'have fun!' I'd much rather be up against them than Arctic Monkeys. They're clearly a very old act and I'd reckon most 18- to 22-year-olds probably aren't too fussed about going to see the Rolling Stones."
"Anyway," Saul says, "we've got big plans for the show: extra production, extra bells, extra whistles."
Extra lasers?
"Yes, obviously, shitloads more lasers."
I've joined the duo today in their tastefully understated studio, with its one platinum disc on one wall, and its framed poster for Harry Brown, the film to which they contributed End Credits in 2009, on another. There are small clues that humans work here – a tub of Dax hair wax on a shelf, a bin overflowing with coffee cups – but it is, in fact, a make-do studio while a new one is being built around the corner. "We had to move out of our last studio because who-cares-why," Saul explains, rather dismissively. "Basically, the landlord had to get everyone out."
His purposefully nonchalant version of events masterfully sidesteps two entertaining details. First, the "who-cares-why" is that their former home, in County Hall, was being turned into the relocated London Dungeon. Chase & Status: FORCED OUT BY GHOULS! Second, "the landlord" was one Pete Waterman. "He had loads of empty studios," Saul remembers. "We said: give it to us for for a decent amount and we'll fill them. In two weeks we'd moved in Sub Focus, Shy FX, Nero, Breakage, then Caspa."
Pete subsequently claimed to have "invented drum'n'bass and dubstep", a quintessentially wild Waterman pronouncement which did at least have foundation in the fact that an exciting musical scene was happening under his roof. "He's a man of few words," Will explains. Are we discussing the same Pete Waterman? "Well, he was with us at least. He was cool – he liked the fact that we were on the radio."
And Chase & Status were on the radio with alarming regularity. Their 2008 debut album, More Than Alot, spawned its fair share of club hits and collaborations with the likes of Kano and Plan B. But it was the top 10 hit End Credits that opened the door to platinum success with second album No More Idols, and the top five single Blind Faith, a song whose acid house-inspired video sent the nation's fortysomething rave survivors into a tailspin of misty-eyed nostalgia.
This success, in turn, earned Chase & Status a global reputation that led to work in a more modern type of hit factory: intense US writing camps led by the production team Stargate, resulting in three cuts on Rihanna's stylishly gloomy Rated R album.
"Those writing camps are 24 hours a day, in a bowl, for two weeks," Will remembers. "You need to be producing two full songs a day, from scratch, fully vocalled, or they're like 'what the hell are you doing?'"
One resulting song, written with Stargate and Drake for Rihanna, ended up as Rita Ora's debut single, though Chase & Status were surprised when another – Nothing But The Girl – originally intended for Lupe Fiasco, then Rihanna, then Ne-Yo – ended up with Alexandra Burke.
"It wasn't about the money," Will says. "We didn't think it was going to be a big single or anything."
"And," Saul mutters, "it wasn't."
"So she came in and sang it. We didn't particularly like anything about it, or her, to be honest, but whatever," Will says. "It was done."
In 2013, the duo are more focused on releasing music under the Chase & Status banner. Right now they're back on the radio – no doubt to the approval of their former landlord – with the sublime new single Lost & Not Found, which warmly hints at the strong Bristol sound that courses through their forthcoming, not-quite-finished third album.
"A lot of this album recalls that run from the early 90s to the end of the 90s," Saul says. "From Massive Attack, Portishead and Tricky, all the way up to 1999 when you'd be going to The End, head to toe in Moschino. Every now and again I'll remember something about a rave I was at when I first heard a tune, or when our first tune got played in a club. It's that shit which makes you want to do it again."
And this of course marks the big difference between the 90s sound championed by the likes of AlunaGeorge and Disclosure, and the same 90s sound woven through Chase & Status's music: Will and Saul are fondly repurposing a scene they've lived and danced through once already, Moschino and all, while the new wave are romantically delving into a pop era that was in full effect when the Disclosure brothers' brand of choice was Fisher-Price.
One wonders how Will and Saul feel when they see Disclosure widely hailed as – finally! – the sort of electronic band people can once again believe in. Do they feel like sticking their hands up and saying, "Er, hello – we've been doing all right over the last couple of years"?
"We've been away a bit," Will says. "And their success is fully deserved. Also, it keeps you on your toes."
In fact, the handful of new songs they play today indicate a band not so much on their toes as perfectly relaxed with where they are, although when Will says that "it's nice to go back to using actual instruments and not rely on screechy synthetic sounds", a feeling of despondency and aimlessness washes over me. "Well," Will promises, "we've got those as well." One such tune, featuring Clipse's Pusha T, is all sirens, cocaine references, whooshing and floor-shaking production combining trap, hop-hop and dubstep.
The finished album is due with the label in just two weeks and is, as Saul notes, "not fucking finished", so it is perhaps just as well that Chase & Status flourish when the pressure is on – something they found out the hard way during the sessions for No More Idols.
"Everyone was talking about second album syndrome," Will says. "As it turns out, basically, you lose the plot."
"And we lost the plot," Saul confirms.
"We second-guessed everything," Will admits. "Over-analysed everything. We scrapped every single song, we wrote Blind Faith and decided we hated it, we told our manager we were quitting. Every song we did, we'd listen to from the perspective of some cool kid on a blog going 'you sellouts, I hate you'."
They mention this idea of cool kids on blogs a few times during our time together. "I haven't read our Facebook for two years," Saul admits at one point. "The messages are just 'You're shit!' 'You've sold out!'" Though the dissenting voices are real – you can't have a cut on an Alexandra Burke album without raising a few eyebrows – it also seems as if by imagining the thoughts of teenage keyboard warriors, Will and Saul are really finding a way to evaluate their work through the eyes of their own 17-year-old selves. Again, though, they seem to thrive on this pressure: their new music sounds just as impulsive and natural as No More Idols did.
"We tend to throw ourselves into these awful situations where there are so many deadlines and people relying on us," Will laughs. "And we're shitting our pants about letting everyone down, but actually we've achieved a lot because of that attitude. That's why it's good being two people – at least when the shit is hitting the fan someone else is fucked as well. You end up laughing at the insanity of it all, crying 'WE'RE SO FUCKED!'."
With this in mind, it's fair to say that if you were Chase & Status and you had a third album on its way – along with your own label and roster of artists requiring attention – you wouldn't, for instance, also be embarking on anything as ambitious as starting up a school. Except, of course, this is just what Will is doing.
"Fuck!" he exclaims, in fantastically non-teacherly fashion, when this topic is brought up. "It's been a long process. I did some teaching of music technology in Manchester, and it was kids from deprived areas of the city. When I moved away I stayed in touch but they ended up in not the best situations – gangs, or jail, or low-paid jobs. I thought, what a waste of talent. But my brother works in education. He introduced me to some people, then the free schools initiative took off, and that was the perfect model to put these ideas into practice."
After two years, Will recently got the green light, and his school – the East London Academy of Music – is due to open in 15 months. "We have to build the building, hire the staff, get the kids in," he says. "And it can't be delayed."
And as for that 10th birthday celebration? What would be the most Chase & Status way of marking 10 years in the game?
"I think we'll shake each other's hand," Saul decides."Glastonbury aside, we'll probably celebrate it by not celebrating," Will says. "We have bottles of champagne given to us; we never open them. Jay-Z gave us a bottle to celebrate something. We put it in storage. We felt like we didn't do enough for it – we wanted to produce his biggest single ever and we didn't. You always want more. You always have higher goals and expectations. Every time we meet a target it feels like a stepping stone to something else."
Have they reached any of their goals with their new album?
"Not yet!" Saul exclaims. "It's not bloody finished!"
Acknowledging the very subtle subtext of this statement, perhaps it's time to leave Chase & Status to finish their work. Even if it's just the latest stepping stone to something else. Reported by guardian.co.uk 1 hour ago.