Toby Jepson
The Wayward Sons frontman on broken Britain, protest records, Little Angels and not having regrets.
The Wayward Sons frontman on broken Britain, protest records, Little Angels and not having regrets.
During a three-decade career, the singer and songwriter’s itchy feet have led him through a number of bands – from 90s contenders Little Angels to Fastway, Gun and more. He also has a slew of production credits, and a sideline as an actor in films including Gladiator. But in 2019 this eternal journeyman says he’s sticking with Wayward Sons, the British rockers whose second album, The Truth Ain’t What It Used To Be, is a warts-and-all snapshot of where we are.
Do you think 2019 has been a good year for rock’n’roll? I do, actually. Because the one massively important thing about times of strife and struggle is that it always generates good music. My favourite record this year was The Wildhearts’ Renaissance Men. There’s absolutely tons of music out there now. It’s almost white noise to a degree. But I do believe the cream still rises to the top.
What’s the best gig you’ve seen this year? Foreigner at Ramblin’ Man. I’ve never been a huge fan, but I stood at the barrier and it was hit after hit. Bands like that are the masters. And therein lies a massive lesson: it all comes down to longevity. That’s what’s wrong with the modern business. You have to allow bands to evolve.
As a producer, what do you think of the sound of rock’n’roll in 2019? It’s a double-edged sword, when you’re talking specifically about recording. The whole aspect of digital recording presents a conundrum, because it can easily help you to cut corners, put a band aid over a problem. So I think the sound of modern rock’n’roll is suffering a bit because of the nature of the technology. I always urge my bands: “We have to make this about the performance, we have to make this real, and the authenticity comes from you actually playing and delivering it. But mainly it comes from the stuff that’s coming out of your mouth”
It’s not just the end of the year, it’s also the end of the decade. How do you think this era in rock’n’roll will be remembered? I think it remains to be seen whether the internet has been our friend. It’s great that we can all communicate, and there’s no doubt that it’s given a voice to everybody. But that’s good and bad. And that absolutely resonates in the music business. Just because you can record music and release something doesn’t mean you should. I think this explosion of digital technology has impacted massively on music and how we consume and make it. So maybe that’s going to be the conversation about this decade: has it been a good experiment?
Has 2019 been a good year for you personally? I think so. For all my gnashing of teeth and wringing of hands, actually I’ve always been an optimist. I believe in people. I’m absolutely a humanist. Wayward Sons is my second bite at the cherry, and I’m massively grateful for it. But I do believe it’s being driven by a huge amount of positivity.
Do you mind that you haven’t been defined by a single band? Not at all. I’m a sort of journeyman in lots of ways. I’ve always regarded myself as a songwriter first, and a singer and performer second. I’ve enjoyed my journey, I’ve had a great life, and achieved a lot more than most. I’m not concerned with being a superstar or any of that nonsense. But I’ve got high hopes for Wayward Sons. This is the last band I’ll ever be in.
Have you drawn a line under Little Angels, then? I don’t know. I certainly would like to see the catalogue used again. I think Little Angels’ music has been left dormant. Yes, it gets played occasionally on various radio stations. But the reality is that there’s three studio albums full of songs that did really well, and in many ways they’re kind of forgotten. And I’d like to try to do something with that. Whether we’ll ever do shows again… I’ll never say never, but there’d have to be a serious reason for it, because I don’t want to short-change the fans. I’m not into just doing a bank-raid. And we’d have to make new music, and I’m not into that.
How would you do things differently if you were starting Little Angels again tomorrow? On one hand, I’d do everything differently. On the other hand, I wouldn’t change a thing. We were kids. I was twenty-one when I signed my record deal. I think Jim Dickinson was about to turn seventeen. We didn’t have a fucking clue. But the only minor regret I have in my life is not being strong enough to turn around to the guys [in 1994] and say: “Why the fuck are we playing to seven thousand people at the Royal Albert Hall and the band are splitting up?” But it was all very blurred, and it all seemed to be over in a flash. Next minute, I’m sat back in my house going: “What the fuck actually happened there? Why are we no longer a band?”
Do you ever wish you hadn’t lost all that time away from music after Little Angels? Well, we were having children, and I didn’t want to be away from them. I came out of Little Angels in a bit of a cloud. It was a difficult end. And I made a solo record quite quickly, and that bombed. I got very poorly [with pneumonia], and all sorts of things happened. But what you’ve got to do in this business is pick yourself up and carry on. You can’t regret anything. Regrets are utterly pointless.
Fifty-two is a funny age. Do you think your best music is ahead of you, or behind you? I actually think it’s ahead of me. I’ve kind of got that ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude now. I mean every single word of this new record. There’s a lot of anger and an awful lot of frustration there, but there’s also a lot of hope. I’ve allowed my personality to spill out into this record, more so than I’ve ever done before. I’ve got a lot to say, still. I still feel completely ambitious. But who knows? People might hate this record and it might be game over.
Wayward Sons’ The Truth Ain’t What It Used To Be is out now via Frontiers Music.