Interview
Interview
Stage Times: Razorlight
Razorlight's Johnny Borrell recounts his storied gig history: starring Snoop Dogg, Carl Barât and Iggy Pop
Johnny Borrell prefers things the way they used to be. A technophobe who refuses to use a smartphone, he’s like The Scarlet Pimpernel of indie rock – tracking him down for this interview was a task in itself. 21 years after the release of Razorlight‘s debut album, Up All Night, which catapulted the band into the mainstream charts – and into the tabloids due to Borrell’s high-profile spats and romances – he feels more like an outsider than ever. Hence the title of their recent album, Planet Nowhere, nodding to the fact that musically they’re from another planet, at least when it comes to contemporary chart music.
Being in the thick of British indie rock’s chart dominance throughout the 00s was “a place I was never comfortable with,” Borrell bemoans on the phone over his morning coffee. “I don’t understand bands in that area. Bands should always be countercultural. But there we were.” For Planet Nowhere, the first Razorlight album featuring all members of their ‘classic’ line-up for nearly two decades, the indie mainstays went back to basics to rekindle the magic of those formative years before fame reared its ugly head toward them. “We did a tiny tour last year. I said ‘look, let’s pretend it’s the beginning of the band again’, and it was amazing to play to rooms of 50 people.”
The quartet are set to head out on tour again in support of Planet Nowhere, which includes dates at Nottingham’s Rock City, the Foundry in Sheffield, and London’s Roundhouse. “We’re now doing a mid-level tour, some intimate rooms. Well, the Roundhouse… That’s my flex. That’s our underplay.”
Shunning smartphones and the deluge of online anxieties that comes with the trappings of life in 2025 is one thing. But Borrell’s greatest bugbear, however, is the modern musician’s reliance on gizmos and gadgets like backing tracks and clicks to help them perform live:
“If I went to a football match and it was choreographed in advance and I knew what was going to happen, I wouldn’t give them my £80 or whatever. I’d feel ripped off. My point is that when you go on stage, you have to give the best you’ve got or you’re ripping people off. That’s just my take. I walk out on stage, and actually perform without any pre-recorded stuff. ABBA used to do that and people gave them shit for it. Why has the bar changed? As an audience member, the energy that’s created in the room is going to change the performance. That’s the essence of a gig. That’s my hill and I’m going to die on it.”
Johnny Borrell’s never been one to mince his words, so you can bet your bottom dollar that seeing them will be an event. As history tells us, the band’s own gig history has certainly been eventful.
With their upcoming UK tour being only weeks away, Razorlight’s main man and mouthpiece discusses playing to millions worldwide at Live 8, getting the seal of approval from Snoop Dogg, scrapping on a boat whilst The Libertines‘ Carl Barât watched, and learning a vital lesson from the ‘Godfather of Punk’ himself, Iggy Pop.
The gig that made you want to become a musician
The one I remember the best was probably the first ever rock show I saw as a kid. I grew up in France. It was Metallica on the Black Album tour. My God, that was great. Absolutely great. The loudest thing you can imagine. I remember thinking “wow, that’s just four guys making that amount of noise, how is that possible? What would that feel like?”
It’s weird because at that stage in my life, I was purely into hip hop. I wasn’t into guitar music at all. I went with a mate who was a metalhead, and people went because it was a real event. I’ve never played metal though, never had a guitar missing the headstock or whatever. My last band, Jealous Nostril, was pretty heavy rock. But there’s a big gap between heavy rock and metal. That was with Ellis Dixon, Ellis D – amazing musician, I love his solo project – and Jack Flanagan from the Mystery Jets. We thought, “will the world take us seriously if we make a heavy rock record?”, coming from two of the most certified indie bands of the noughties. Anyway, we made a great album. I’m trying to get it put out, still.
The first
I didn’t know if I could do it. You never know before you get on stage if you’ll sink or swim. No idea. I was 13, I’d rehearsed the hell out of my band. I was the singer – I wasn’t the leader of the band, but I was the singer. We were one of those traditional bands in that sense. We’d managed to get a gig at this place called The Rock Garden which used to exist in Covent Garden. The guy told us to bring down some other bands our age and do a Battle of the Bands kind of thing. It was one of those glorious days as none of us had anything to do, so everyone turned up. There were about 300 kids there, all in this venue. I was like “whoahh, there’s an actual crowd here”.
We were the youngest band by quite a long way, and we were nervous. But we were headlining as we’d organised the gig. Everyone was sort of looking at us like ‘well, what have you got?’ I remember closing my eyes, singing ‘Fire’ by Jimi Hendrix. By the time we got to the guitar solo, “Oh! Move over, Rover”, opening my eyes, looked around the room and thought ‘yeah, we can do this’. The show was amazing. We played for an hour. It was just an hour of kids crowdsurfing. I thought, “this is what I want to do”. It’s still what I love doing. Playing loud rock music live on stage with people moshing, rocking out. It’s the simplest pleasure in the world, and it’s the thing I cherish most about my musical career. It sounds so simple, but it’s taken me 20 years to realise that. All the other trappings, the stuff that comes with it – f*ck that.
The smallest
I never got to play the smallest gig I wanted to, at the Jermyn Street Theatre in Mayfair. I think it has the capacity of about eight people. I was always onto my agent saying I wanted to play there. It never happened! But the smallest in terms of nobody being there… it happens when you’re starting out – when there’s more people in the band than in the audience.
I would say the smallest, or which felt the smallest, was in Spain somewhere. No idea where it actually was in Spain. The entire festival must’ve been a money laundering operation. It was geared up to accommodate about 40,000 people, and watching the crowd from the side of the main stage, there must’ve been about 50 people. That felt small. We were just below the headliner. Our second album had just come out, me and Andy were looking at each other thinking, “we’re better than this, our agent’s f*cked it”. After us, Iggy Pop played. I’d seen Iggy so many times that year. I’m a massive fan. Iggy went on and did the best show I’d seen all year. Not in spite of the fact there were about 50 people there, but because there were just 50 people there. I learned a real lesson that night. That was the best apprenticeship. We were a bit too cool for school thinking we were better than this. Then Iggy Pop gets up, rolls up his sleeves, and plays the best show. One they’d never forget. That marked me so much. I got that wrong, but I’ve learned from that.
Give those people the full show or go home. I feel so strongly about that.
The biggest
Probably Live 8? That was probably the biggest one. We were really good that day. It was great for me. It was like I was playing in League One or for a newly promoted Premiership team, and I was vying for Champions League football. I got into the Champions League and scored a goal. I wasn’t being arrogant or anything, I could just feel it.
We didn’t get the call from Bob [Geldof] himself – I’ve got some stories about getting calls from the people in question, but not from Bob. We had so many gigs coming in then, so we didn’t think too much about it until the day before. We were given 12 minutes to play, and I loved that challenge, so we played a medley. Threw a Woody Guthrie cover in there. Snoop Dogg came on after us. As I came off stage I got to meet Snoop Dogg who said he dug the show. Everyone was going on about Pink Floyd – Pink Floyd only existed to make me vomit. Meeting Snoop Dogg? That was so impressive to me.
The weirdest
A really weird one we did at the start of Razorlight, was when we played on a boat. It was going up and down the river while we were playing, maybe for some publicity stunt or something. Or maybe it was the only gig we could get? We were playing our particular unhoned blend of television-influenced alternative rock, and I guess that was good enough for them.
Something weird happened though. Someone kept messing with our guitarist’s pedal. Then I think I’d had a bit [too much] drink, and it really started to annoy me. So, I waited until the end of the show and just lamped him. I was like 22/23, and thought that was the way to do it. Carl Barât from The Libertines and all my band were there. I thought, “well, my mates are here, so I can go and punch anyone I like”. It was so funny, because he had a big brother who was actually on the boat as well, and he came out of nowhere and got me into a headlock. I remember thinking “just you wait, my boys will sort you out”, then I lost consciousness. Losing consciousness or fainting hasn’t happened to me too many times, but that wasn’t so weird. But regaining consciousness then floating back down the river was a little too much for me. I awoke with a scream. That was a pretty weird gig. The good thing about it was that they reported it in the NME, and they got to use the headline ‘Razor-fight’. It gave me a bit of a rep.
The worst
A gig when we really lost the plot? It’s happened. I’d like to say we’ve never been that bad, because we are always trying and at least playing our instruments. Mistakes are one thing, but at least there will be some kind of human spectacle. We’ve played shows when various members of the band have been too drunk to stand up, which tends to announce itself. We’ve played some big shows like that, and it usually occurs about song three or four in. You arrive on stage with all the bluster and pomp of a rock band, then three songs in you’re looking around thinking ‘something’s missing here…’ as one of us is leaning or lurching over, not making any sense, throwing their mic into the crowd. We had a tasty Isle Of Wight Festival performance like that.
There was one when we were supposed to be playing in New York City, and we were on a break – not like a relationship break-up – taking a month off which was quite unusual for us. I was in the south of France riding my motorbike up to the airport in Paris, and I got a phonecall halfway up the motorway saying, “listen, Andy can’t make the gig because of stuff…” He pulled out of the show. We’d done that thing on Parkinson where we did ‘Golden Touch’ with the gospel singers. We couldn’t pull out of the show, it had to happen. So, we thought we’d do it without Andy, semi-acoustic with gospel singers, the lot. I got to New York, spent two days rehearsing. We did the show, loads of people came down. I had a friend who was very astute in her assessment of rock ‘n’ roll – she was friends with Lou Reed. I saw her after the show and asked her what she thought. She said, “that was so bad” off the bat. “I can’t believe you did that. It was embarrassing”. I thought, “I may as well start smoking again now”. It stuck with me though – I appreciate when people tell you if they don’t like it. I did explain that I was operating with one hand tied behind my back, with Andy being out, so was pleased I got anything together. But as an artist, taking that on the chin is important. There was a time when people would say it to your face too. It’s not like goons spraying hate online, it’s a different thing. Honesty is always my policy. I’m not smart enough to strategise.
The best
Can I do something obscure from recent history? I loved this gig so much [that] I’ve still got the pass stuck to my fridge. It was from the Joiners from about two years ago, with Jealous Nostril. It was the perfect show. It was the first time we felt like we had a crowd there for the band. People were like “you guys are going to be massive” – but obviously we’re not. We’re not even playing live any more. It might never happen again. But it felt perfect. The feeling of making something new and putting it in front of people, who are enjoying it, it’s an amazing feeling. Great venue, the Joiners.
I love the challenge. Even when Razorlight were fairly big, I used to love supporting other bands and playing to other people’s audiences. I remember supporting Queen in Hyde Park. We had a No.1 record at the time, but I assure you that nobody in that Queen audience had a f*cking clue who we were. I just loved it, that challenge. I love playing to people who cherish ‘Golden Touch’ and sing our songs. Those are amazing moments. But I also love playing for other people’s audiences and presenting your music. When you’ve got a new project, when people come out without knowing your songs, if you can get that across to them that’s a great thing.
Razorlight start their 2025 UK tour on 26 April. Find tickets here
Photo by Lorne Thomson/Redferns
