More Like a School Orchestra: Vic Mars Interview

Stewart Gardiner wanders down a holloway into an out of time world to speak with Vic Mars about his Inner Roads and Outer Paths LP for Clay Pipe

Inner Roads and Outer Paths is a beautifully crafted aural tapestry, the detailed sonic stitching of which is made up of a sequence of pastoral portals. These captured-in-music moments transport the listener to times and places that they could not otherwise visit. For the reimagined pasts at the end of the portals are of particular significance to Vic Mars. On the surface of the album there is gentleness at play, yet that belies the powerfully evocative nature of what lies underneath, those currents of reconstructed memory that one is swept up by. Connections may be made between this and other works on the always carefully curated Clay Pipe Music, but also to the output of the Pastels-run Geographic label. That Inner Roads and Outer Paths expresses both the localised and personalised (from vintage British Railway posters to the Herefordshire countryside of the artist’s youth), and yet carries an internationalist outlook and universal relatability, makes listening to this imaginative long player an intimate, open experience.

I made an appointment with Vic Mars somewhere off the beaten path where we discussed the new album and more.

Your music has a real sense of place about it. Both The Land and the Garden (2015) and Inner Roads and Outer Paths are – at least in part – concerned with Herefordshire, where you grew up. Could you talk a little about this aspect of your work?

If by car or train, the journey into Hereford is of green fields and hills, woods and farms. Before I reached school age, I would go with my mum to a farm to pick apples and strawberries etc. That early experience of the countryside has probably been ingrained into me. I love that scenery, I suppose these two albums are just me trying to soundtrack them.

I was wondering if your music also has a sense of time baked into its DNA. Inner Roads and Outer Paths seems to reveal another time as if peering through a telescope into the past. But it does so without being as straightforward or as closed-down as simple nostalgia. Would you agree? Is there a present and a past on these albums?

That is what I have been aiming for, and yes, I would say there is a present in terms of looking back on memories and such as well as a direct ley line to the past. Much of our countryside, luckily, has not changed, so it is still music of the now, for me. But, the towns and cities are getting bigger of course, and slowly creeping outwards. There’s a feeling of a time which may have existed or can only exist when we watch those old British transport films, or see old photos of a familiar area.

Do you view The Land and the Garden and Inner Roads and Outer Paths as parts of an ongoing series?

I would say it is a continuation, in a way, a similar pastoral feeling, but not an ongoing story or anything like that. I am not sure. I have certainly tried to continue in terms of instrumentation, it probably sounds more like a school orchestra than the last one?

The genesis of The Hospice was rather different, yet it also fits perfectly alongside your presumably more personal pieces on Clay Pipe Music. How did you get involved with Clay Pipe in the first place? I would imagine it’s a uniquely fruitful relationship – the label seems like the perfect home for you.

I had an email from Frances, out of the blue, as I remember. I was familiar with the label already as I had bought Tyneham House, which is a brilliant LP. I think she heard some tracks I had put up on Soundcloud and saw a video. When I have been unsure about certain parts of the music, she has always helped and given good advice, which is great.

I believe you’re inspired by vintage British Railway posters. It must therefore be a thrill to have artwork by Frances Castle as album covers and there’s such a lovely symbiosis between her illustrations and your music. I wonder how the process works in terms of the art. For instance, how collaborative is it in terms of sharing ideas?

It is interesting that Frances’ uncle Frank Sherwin was an incredible artist who created pieces (among other things) for the British Railway posters. I think with Clay Pipe, the artwork plays as large a part in the final product as the music. It is the complete package. Each album sleeve artwork fits perfectly. I leave the artwork up to Frances. Every time, the designs have been fantastic.

The Consumer Programme (2017) displays another mode of Vic Mars music-making. That came out on Polytechnic Youth, so I wonder whether different labels give you the chance to explore different sounds and how important that is to you.

I don’t know if I consciously sit down and think, right, this track is going to be completely electronic sounding, I don’t have a plan. I have been lucky enough to have my music released on great labels. My first release, on the Japanese label Symbolic Interaction, was a mixture of pastoral and electronic. I have a lot of tracks finished or half finished lumped into different folders, but not categorised. Kind of annoying when I want to go back to something. It is probably better for a label to pick out tracks than me, I am a poor judge.

Inner Roads and Outer Paths was inspired by Alfred Watkins. Was it The Old Straight Track specifically? How does this manifest on the album and in what ways does his writing feed your own personal experience?

I had recently re-read The Old Straight Track, Watkins was an interesting character, not only for his writings / studies but he also invented a light meter for cameras.

Seeing his photographs and reading of places I vaguely knew, or had visited gave me a feeling of history and how things seemed more peaceful / slower paced in his day, as he travelled around Herefordshire.

Tell me about the in-between places that form the record’s landscape.

Anything off the beaten path, or hard to get to. I am not so sure any of the places still exist. Certainly the munitions factory has been flattened. A big country house is a now a hotel, and the bunker and watch tower destroyed to make a new road. The Mother’s Pride factory which was empty for a while is long gone, on one of the main roads out of the city. Even Arrow House, where the evacuees stayed was knocked down and replaced by a telephone exchange. Inevitable, but a shame some of it could not be kept.

You lived in Japan for over ten years. Could you talk about what impact that has had on your life and work?

I had more free time to make music, having all the school holidays off. Also analogue equipment was affordable. In the UK I had been making music with an Amiga, a rack mount EMU sampler and some synths. The standard of living is high, everything is clean and in good order. But, living in a big city over there you don’t see as much green as you would in the UK. It really did feel like a concrete jungle sometimes. I moved from Hereford, to London and then to Japan. So the dream / image / notion of the UK countryside became a lot more appealing over time. It was difficult returning to the UK after that amount of time, nothing seemed familiar anymore, there were 5 TV channels when I left and everyone had those monochrome Nokia phones. And don’t get me started on the visas.

I moved back midway through finishing Land and the Garden. Inner Roads and Outer Paths has taken a lot longer to finish than I expected. Luckily, Clay Pipe have been extremely patient with me!

I consider yourself and Clay Pipe fellow travellers of The Pastels, their Geographic label and the Monorail record shop in Glasgow. Japanese artists such as Tenniscoats and Kama Aina are very much part of that community and I wonder what influence Japanese underground music has had on your work. I like the idea that music can have a distinct sense of local place and yet still have an internationalist outlook.

Symbolic Interaction sent me CDs of some of the Japanese artist on the label, always interesting stuff, intricate sounds, at the time that was an influence. Not necessarily underground music, but I went to see Acid Mothers Temple a few times as they were from the same city I lived in. They were always great live, a favourite gig was when Damo Suzuki joined them. I found Cornelius stuff interesting, and Polysics but they are not what you would consider underground at all. I think the longer I lived in Japan, the more I gravitated to western music. A couple of friends also made music, we would compare tracks, which was a great way to exchange ideas.

I’m interested by the idea that homesickness rather than nostalgia might be a better description of something that your music evokes. Am I on the right path here?

Yes, I think you might be right there. That was certainly the catalyst for The Land and the Garden. Perhaps also hinting at a time that only existed in the old Transport and Look at Life information films in probably glorious Eastmancolor.

Holloways or railway lines?

Holloways. Paths created over time, by animals and people. I recently walked along one of the railway lines which was a victim of the Beeching Cuts, and it has almost completely turned into a holloway.