The passing of the last century nearly left the wasted elegance of the Trash Can Sinatras in its wake.
"I don't know what was going on," says guitarist Paul Livingston. "I don't remember much, to tell you the truth. It's all hedonist."
Hedonist?
"Haziness," Livingston corrects. In his hefty Scottish brogue, haziness can sound a bit like hedonist. "But there's nothing wrong with hedonist."
Livingston is trying to explain how this excellent Scottish band, which plays Wednesday at Milestones, could slip off the earth for about three years.
"We just stopped answering the phone and stopped answering the door for a while," he says. "We dropped into a hole, really."
The band had been together since 1987, creating the kind of moody, jangly pop associated with that era: the Smiths, Morrissey, fellow Scotsmen Aztec Camera. Fusing harmonies and guitar with clever lines like, "You came into my life, like a brick through a window, and I cracked a smile."
Then? Pop was out. Everyone was into grunge.
And the Trash Can Sinatras filed for bankruptcy. The band owed too much money.
Livingston, who'd never done anything else in his life except play guitar, crawled into the hole.
"I've never had a job," he says. "I can't drive. I've got a really bad attitude and work ethic. If I wasn't in a band, I'd probably be living in the woods, eating squirrels or rabbits. No, actually, I don't think I could kill one."
They reassembled in 2000, tried recording a new album, but ended up scrapping it.
"It was really, really doomy," Livingston says. "We were low and depressed. Me and John, the other guitarist, we smoked a lot of grass."
There's your haze. Your hedonism. The Trash Can Sinatras had not only filed for bankruptcy, they had gone up in smoke.
"Me and John were living in a flat smoking dope," Livingston says. "We were just happy to let the weeks fly by."
But lead singer Frank Reader wouldn't let go.
"I would say so," the 34-year-old Livingston says. "He was living with his mum at the time. And he doesn't smoke dope.
"We didn't have a record deal, we hadn't played together in a while. We were just a bunch of guys on welfare, living in a small shantytown in Scotland, starting from scratch, trying to make an album."
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Making music might seem to be a natural thing for many Scots-men. Almost everyone in the nation of more than 5 million people can sing. They're daring: Livingston not only eats haggis, he likes it.
And they drink, although the responsible Livingston knows his limits. "I'm not very good at drinking spirits. I can drink beer all day," he says, and you get the feeling he means that literally.
So, as rockers, they have all that going for them. But maybe, because they come from the literate land of Robert Burns, Scotland is infertile ground to what Livingston calls "good-time, rock-and-roll bands."
"It's a bit embarrassing for Scottish bands to just be a rock band," he says. "You can't really get away with that. Scottish bands seem to think they have to be something more.
"Of course, we had AC/DC. A lot of people think they were an Australian band, but the Yoooong broooothers" — that's Scottish for "Young brothers" — "were actually from Scotland. Which is good enough for me."
Party on, Paul. The Trash Can Sinatras have it both ways. Good-time, rock-and-roll band. Literate pop band.
"It's just a lot more fun these days," he says. "We used to be under a lot of pressure. Now, we're very good about communicating. We used to get very panicky if something was going wrong. We don't treat people like idiots. We're good musicians. A natural, proper band."
True, "We used to have money," he says, although perhaps that has something to do with what he says is the band's reputation in Glasgow as poor poker players. With bankruptcy behind them, "Now we're happy. You know the cliché."
The Trash Can Sinatras, who released a graceful — pretty, even — comeback album last year in Weightlifting, have made it all of the way back.
"We played the Bowery Ballroom in October," Livingston says. "It was sold out. It felt like a party. I had a good time. That's not uncommon for me."
What: The Trash Can Sinatras
When: 8 p.m. Wednesday
Where: Milestones, 170 East Ave
Admission: $10 advance, $12 at the door
Call: (585) 325-6490
Web: www.trashcansinatras.com
Originally appeared in the Democrat & Chronicle |
