Welcome to the Deep Dive. Today we're looking
at a real musical enigma, someone whose fingerprints
are all over modern music, but who often seems,
well, almost invisible himself. Yeah, a legend
hiding in plain sight, you could say. We're talking
about Nicholas Drainlow. Exactly. Born in 1949,
a key figure in British music for, gosh, over
five decades now. His story is fascinating because
his songs... often way more famous than he is.
It's that paradox, isn't it? The ultimate songwriter
and producer whose biggest fear, he actually
said this, was sticking with what you did when
you were famous. That's our mission today then,
to unpack the career of this guy who deliberately
swerved away from easy fame. We're going to cover
his journey through pub rock. New Wave, Power
Pop. And he wasn't just a writer or producer.
He's a genuine multi -instrumentalist. Vocals,
bass, guitar, keyboards, the whole package. But
it's that fear of becoming a nostalgia act, that
drive to keep changing, that's really the key
to understanding him, I think. Absolutely. He
starts as this architect of New Wave, gets this
nickname Basher, and then completely reinvents
himself later on. So let's start there, with
the Basher era. How did he even get into the
music scene? Well, his journey really kicks off
back in 1967. He was in a band called Kippington
Lodge with his school friend Brinsley Schwartz.
They even put out a few singles on Parlophone.
Pretty standard start, really. Parlophone. Wow.
So early days. But then Kippington Lodge morphs
into Brinsley Schwartz the band in late 69. Right.
And this is where things get, well... Interesting.
Kind of disastrous initially. They shifted towards
country and blues rock. And their management
had this grand plan, didn't they? The infamous...
plane stunt oh yeah fame pushers ltd they had
this frankly bonkers idea fly a whole plane load
of british music journalists the really cynical
london crowd all the way to new york to see their
debut at the film war east that sounds incredibly
high risk the pressure exactly the logistics
the cost it was meant to be this huge manufactured
event make them instant stars but it didn't quite
work out that way Not even close. The sources
say the stunt just completely backfired, the
band wasn't ready, the hype felt forced, and
the journalists basically savaged them. They
became a laughingstock, is the phrase used. Ouch.
Yeah. So instant notoriety. But for all the wrong
reasons, how did they recover from that? They
had to ditch the hype and earn it the hard way.
They hit the London pub rock circuit. This was,
you know, the early 70s, a real reaction against
bloated prog rock. Right. Back to basics. Strip
down rock and roll and sweaty pubs. Precisely.
Playing constant gigs, building a real following
based on performance, not hype. That whole pub
rock scene was crucial. It valued energy, authenticity,
stuff that definitely influenced Lowe's later.
You can see the seeds of punk. new wave and that
whole ethos that makes sense that raw no frills
approach must have stuck with him so brinsley
schwartz runs its course dissolves around 75
and then comes stiff records yes this is the
pivotal moment 1976 lowe's moves from being in
the band to being the guy shaping the sound and
the very first single ever released on stiff
records it was his wasn't it yep August 1976.
So it goes on the A side, heart of the city,
on the B side, history right there. And the label
itself started on a shoestring. The funding story
is amazing. It really is. Just 400 pounds. That's
all they had to start Stiff Records. A loan from
Leigh Brulot, the singer from Dr. Feelgood. 400
quid to launch a label that basically defined
UK Indian New Wave. Incredible. It speaks volumes
about the DIY spirit, doesn't it? And Lowe wasn't
just the first artist, he became the in -house
producer. This is where he earns the nickname
Basher. Okay, Basher. Let's unpack that. Why
Basher? It came from his production style. It
was fast, efficient, no nonsense, rough and ready.
The story goes, his instructions to bands were
basically, bash it out now, we'll tart it up
later. Huh. Get the energy down first, worry
about the polish after. Exactly. It was perfect
for the punk bands who had loads of energy, but
maybe not much studio time or budget. Capture
that raw, spontaneous feel. Don't overthink it.
And he used that Basher style on some absolutely
landmark records, defining records. Totally.
He produced the Dam's first single, New Rose.
Think about that. October 1976. Widely considered
the very first proper... English punk single.
Before the Sex Pistols, Big Splat. Months before
Anarchy in the UK. So Lowe is right there at
ground zero. He also produced their whole first
album, Damn Damned Classic Punk Sound. But he
wasn't just punk, was he? His biggest production
relationship was probably with Elvis Costello.
Oh, absolutely fundamental. Lowe produced Costello's
first five albums. Five. From 1977 to 1981. We're
talking My Aim is True, This Year's Model, Armed
Forces, Game Changing Records. What was it about
the low sound that worked so well for Costello?
What did he bring? It was that basher clarity,
but refined for Costello's more intricate songwriting.
You get these really dry, punchy drums, driving
bass lines, often low, playing bass himself.
And everything's mixed, so Costello's vocals
and those incredibly sharp lyrics just slice
right through. Tight, focused. No fat. Exactly.
It proved rock could be smart, angry, and concise.
Power pop perfection, really. He just had this
knack for bringing out the best in these literate,
slightly udgy songwriters. And he was busy beyond
Costello, too, right? Still working with other
stiff acts? Oh, yeah. He produced stuff for Reckless
Eric. you know whole wide world and bands like
alberto he lost trios paranoias who were more
on the satirical side of punk plus guys like
mickey jupp more roots rocker and outside stiff
he branched out crucially he produced the pretenders
debut single in 1978. stop your sobbing Huge
song. Introduced Chrissy Hine to the world. Yeah,
with that distinctive low punch. And he worked
with Graham Parker, too. Produced his first and
third albums. Parker was part of that same wave
of smart, articulate songwriters. And Dr. Feelgood.
He produced them, too, didn't he? Kind of paying
back that initial loan. Metaphorically, yeah.
He produced the album Sneak and Suspicion for
them, and later Be Seeing You, which had their
biggest hit single, Milk and Alcohol. And guess
who co -wrote that song? Had to be low. Yeah.
Nick Lowe, he was just everywhere, shaping the
sound, writing the hits. It's kind of staggering
when you list it all out. It really is. Which
brings us perfectly into this core paradox we
mentioned. He's the guy behind the scenes, the
basher, the producer. But often, his biggest
impact, certainly financially, came when other
people sang his songs. Yeah, his own chart success
as a solo artist was... Well, it was there, but
relatively modest compared to his influence.
He did have a couple of notable UK hits. I Love
the Sound of Breaking Glass was one, right? Top
Ten? That's the one. Reached number seven in
the UK in 1978. It was actually a bit different
for him musically. A bit more art rock, less
raw power pop. But the big one, the one everyone
kind of knows, even if they don't place the name.
Has to be Cruel to be Kind. That's his signature
tune as a performer, surely. For sure. Co -written
way back with Ian Gomm from Brinsley Schwartz.
The hit version, the one everyone knows from
1979, was actually a re -recording by his band
Rockpile. Ah, okay, so not even his solo recording
technically. Well, it was on his album Labor
of Lust, but Rockpile played on it. The song
was massive worldwide, though. Number 12 in the
UK, the US Billboard chart, Canada, Australia,
everywhere. And that album, Labor of Lust. Did
well, too. Yeah, went gold in Canada. So he definitely
had his moments in the spotlight as an artist.
But the real story, the reason his songs are
just part of the cultural furniture is the cover
versions. This is the real deep dive nugget for
you. OK, let's get into it. The big one has to
be. What's so funny about peace, love, and understanding,
right? Absolutely. The prime example. He wrote
and recorded it with Brinsley Schwartz way back
in 74. Kind of a heartfelt, slightly pleading
song. Then Elvis Costello picks it up. Costello
and the Attractions covered it in 1979, often
as a B -sider bonus track initially, but it became
one of their anthems. Really powerful version,
much more urgent. That gave it a big boost in
the new wave era. But that's not even the biggest
version, is it? Not by a long shot. Get this.
In 1992, the singer Curtis Stigers covered it
for the soundtrack of the movie The Bodyguard.
The Bodyguard. The Whitney Houston movie. That's
the one. And that soundtrack. Well, it's one
of the biggest selling albums of all time. Sold
something like 44 million copies globally. 44
million. Wow. So think about that journey. A
song written by a pub rocker in the early 70s,
popularized by a new wave icon in the late 70s,
ends up being heard by tens of millions of people
worldwide in the 90s because it was on a Whitney
Houston movie soundtrack. That's insane. Most
people hearing that song would have zero idea
it was a Nick Lowe composition originally. Exactly.
It's the ultimate example of the song totally
eclipsing the songwriter's fame. His work embedded
itself in global culture. There are other big
covers too, right? He seemed happy to let his
bandmates have hits with his songs. Yeah, like
I Knew the Bride when she used to rock and roll.
Great tune. Became a signature hit for Dave Edmonds,
his bandmate in Rock Pile. Sister of a songwriter.
Definitely seemed that way. And then there's
the Johnny Cash connection. Cash covered The
Beast in Me. Such a brilliant dark song. Perfect
for Cash. It really was. And it shows the breadth
of Lowe's writing, you know. He could do punchy
power pop, but also these really deep, soulful
country ballads. That Cash cover is definitive.
And we mentioned the Dr. Feelgood hits he co
-wrote, Milk and Alcohol. That's it. I quit.
He was just churning out quality material. Absolutely.
Beyond the hooks, though, you have to appreciate
his lyrical skill. He had this real wit, this
love of wordplay, puns, clever turns of phrase.
The novelty songs, as the sources call them.
Yeah, though novelty might undersell them a bit.
They're clever, often quite cutting. Think of
titles like All Men Are Liars. Uh -huh. Yeah,
pretty direct. Or Time Wounds All Heels, which
he wrote with Carlene Carter. Just brilliant.
Flipping that old saying. Yeah. He loved messed
up. with cliches and expectations. And that early
track, I Love My Label, under a fake name. Oh,
that's pure low cheekiness. Recorded as Terry
Modern of the Tartan Horde. It was basically
a love song to United Artists, the label he'd
left, released on Stiff, the label he'd founded
to get away from labels like UA. That's layers
of irony right there. Totally. And it makes sense
that bands like Wilco covered I Love My Label
years later. You know, artists who appreciate
that kind of clever, slightly insider songwriting
craft. That focus on craft and collaboration
really defines his middle period too, especially
with Rock Pile. Let's talk about that band dynamic.
Okay, Rock Pile. On paper, low on bass, Dave
Edmonds on guitar, Billy Bremner also on guitar,
Terry Williams on drums. By all accounts... absolutely
killer live band, super tight, energetic, mixing
rockabilly, pub rock, power pop. But legally,
a total mess. A complete nightmare. They played
together constantly from about 75 to 80. Alo
and Edmonds were signed to different record labels,
had different managers. It was contractual chaos.
So they couldn't release albums as Rockpile?
Hardly ever. There's only one official studio
album credited solely to Rockpile, and that's
Seconds of Pleasure from 1980. Great record,
includes tracks like When I Write the Book and
heart. That wasn't all their work together, was
it? This is the confusing part. Not at all. This
is the key thing you need to know. Lowe's album,
Labor of Lust, the one with Cruel to Be Kind,
and Dave Edmonds' album, Repeat When Necessary,
they were effectively rock pile albums. So same
band. Just released under either Lowe's or Edmund's
name to get around the label issues. Exactly.
If you bought Labor of Lust, you got Lowe's singing,
but it was Edmund's, Bremner, and Williams playing.
Same for Edmund's record. It was the only way
they could release the music they were making
together. Man, the music business. Always finding
ways to make things difficult. Tell me about
it. It's classic Lowe's again, though, isn't
it? Brilliant music, slightly obscured by these
weird logistical hurdles. And that collaborative
spirit bled into his personal life, too, leading
to that really interesting connection with the
carter cash family yeah this is quite a story
in 1979 nick lowe marries carlene carter daughter
of june carter cash and carl smith stepdaughter
of johnny cash country music royalty right so
suddenly this english new wave guy is part of
one of the most legendary families in american
music history they were married until 1990. must
have been quite the culture clash or maybe synergy
Seems like synergy, artistically at least. Lowe
produced Carleen's album Musical Shapes, which,
surprise, surprise, was basically a rock pile
album. You got it. Blurring those lines again
between rock and country, UK and US sounds. And
here's a sweet detail. The promo video for Cruel
to be Kind, it uses footage from Nick and Carleen's
actual wedding. Oh, that's cool. A real home
movie vibe. Yeah. And the family connection lasted
beyond the marriage. He adopted Carlene's daughter,
Tiffany. He stayed close with Johnny in June,
played with Johnny, recorded with him. And Cash
covering The Beast in Me came out of that relationship.
For sure. Lowe even produced a single for Johnny
Cash in 1980, Without Love. It just shows how
respected Lowe's songwriting was that it could
cross genres and generations like that. Even
the man in black was a fan. Beyond Rock Pile
and the family stuff, did he keep forming bands?
He did. He had touring bands like Noise To Go
and later The Cowboy Outfit. That band actually
featured Paul Carrick on keyboards. Paul Carrick,
great singer and musician. Yeah, from Squeeze,
Mike, plus The Mechanics. And again, Lo helped
him out, wrote songs for Carrick's solo career
like I Live on a Battlefield and I Need You,
always supporting his mates. Then there was Little
Village, right? That sounded like a potential
supergroup. It really did, on paper. Low on bass,
John Hyatt on guitar and vocals, Ry Cooter on
guitar, Jim Keltner on drums. Legends, all of
them. How did that come about? They first got
together as the backing band for John Hyatt's
amazing 1987 album, Bring the Family. Recorded
it super fast, incredible chemistry. So they
thought, hey, let's be a proper band. But it
didn't quite take off. They released one self
-titled album in 1992. It was good stuff, but
maybe the expectations were just too high for
a band with that kind of pedigree. It's pretty
short -lived. So after all this intense collaboration,
did he start winding down the production work
too? The basher role? Yeah, he became much more
selective about producing from the mid -80s onwards.
He did reunite with Elvis Costello to produce
Blood and Chocolate in 1986, which was a return
to a more raw sound for Costello. A final blast
from the basher. Kind of. But after producing
an album for a band called The Katie Diz, In
1990, he pretty much hung up his producer hat
for other artists. Declared retirement from the
desk. Essentially. There was one tiny exception
he got talked into producing one track for the
Mavericks for the Apollo 13 soundtrack in 95.
But other than that, yeah, Nick Lowe, the producer,
was basically done. Which leads us neatly into
that final fascinating chapter. The reinvention.
The basher becomes the balladeer. This is where
he directly confronts that fear of getting stuck,
right? Absolutely. This wasn't just a gradual
drift, it was a conscious, philosophical choice.
He actively decided to move away from the sound
he'd helped create. That quote you mentioned
earlier really says it all. I didn't want to
become one of those thinning -haired, jolly old
geezers who still does the same shtick. They
did when they were young, slim, and beautiful.
That's revolting and rather tragic. Brutal honesty,
isn't it? But it shows his artistic integrity.
He wanted to age gracefully, musically speaking.
Avoid becoming a parody. Exactly. So he moved
out of what he called ironic pop and animated
rock, you know, the fast, witty stuff, and deliberately
cultivated this new persona, a worldly balladeer.
Focusing on grave vocals and graceful tunes.
It's quite a shift. A massive shift. And technically,
it involved what he brilliantly called escaping
the tyranny of the snare drum. He said that in
a No Depression interview around 2001. Escaping
the tyranny of the snare drum. I love that. What
does that mean in practice? Less frantic drumming.
Precisely. Think about power pop. The snare drum
is often really loud, hitting on beats two and
four, driving the song forward relentlessly.
It dictates the energy, the pace. Right, it forces
you into that high gear. Yeah. So by escaping
it, he meant allowing the rhythm to be subtler,
using brushes instead of sticks, maybe letting
the acoustic guitar or a simple bass line carry
the rhythm. It allowed space. Space for what?
Space for him to sing differently. to sing more
quietly explore the nuances of his voice as it
aged critics noted he found these deeper nooks
and crannies in his mature voice he wasn't shouting
over a loud band anymore he could be more expressive
more intimate exactly This new sound really started
to emerge on the album The Impossible Bird in
1994. And then he refined it on subsequent albums
like Dig My Mood, The Convincer, At My Age, right
up to The Old Magic. They're all part of this
later phase. And musically, what was he drawing
on for this sound? Deep American roots music.
You hear vintage country textures, a lot of soul
and R &B influence, gospel harmonies sometimes,
think upright bass, maybe some pedal steel, tasteful
arrangements. It's much slower, more reflective.
The songs themselves change too, presumably.
Less witty cynicism. Yeah, the lyrics became
more about observation, aging, the complexities
of relationships viewed from a distance. Still
clever, but less overtly jokey. More... Elegant,
I suppose. It's the sound of someone comfortable
in their own skin not needing to impress with
speed or volume. Like he finally allowed himself
to slow down. It's a remarkable artistic evolution.
It really is. But the interesting thing is, even
though he wasn't chasing hits anymore, his influence
continued. Younger artists were still paying
attention. Like Alex Turner from Arctic Monkeys.
Yeah, Turner's a great example. He cited Lowe
as one of his favorite lyricists. Said Lowe's
songwriting sent him back to square one. That's
high praise. Suggest Low made him rethink his
whole approach to writing lyrics. It does. It
shows the enduring quality of the craftsmanship,
doesn't it? That a modern songwriter known for
his own sharp lyrics would look back to Low like
that. And Low himself hasn't just stopped, has
he? He's kept working, kept touring in this later
style. Not at all. He even released a Christmas
album in 2013, Quality Street, with his typical
wit, of course. Of course. And touring. He's
toured quite a bit. often with sympathetic collaborators.
He did tours with Wilco, which makes total sense
musically. And for years now, he's frequently
toured with Lost Straight Jackets. The instrumental
band who wear Mexican wrestling masks. That's
them. It's a brilliant pairing, actually. They
provide this fantastic, versatile backing, very
respectful of the songs, and their whole masked
schtick kind of fits Lowe's own preference for
letting the music do the talking. And he's still
showing up in interesting places. Newport Folk
Festival recently. Yeah. Yeah, July 2024, according
to the source material, helped close the festival,
shared the stage with Conan O 'Brien, of all
people. Still relevant, still respected. From
pub rock to folk festival headliner, quite a
journey. So just to round off the personal picture,
he's based in London now. Lives in Brentford,
yep. Married again in 2010 to a designer named
Peter Waddington. And they have a son together.
Seems like a settled, contented later life. Okay,
so let's... Try and pull all these threads together.
We've traced this incredible five -decade path
of Nick Lowe. We started with Basher, the Stiff
Records house producer, launching punk and new
wave on that tiny 400 -pound loan, defining that
raw, energetic sound. Then we looked at the songwriter
paradox, at the guy whose songs were often huge
hits for other people. Yeah. What's so funny
about peace, love, and understanding being the
ultimate example, reaching millions via the bodyguard?
We untangled the Rockpile years, that amazing
band hampered by a record company of politics,
and his fascinating connection into the Carter
Cash dynasty. Yeah, the British New Waiver marrying
into American country royalty. And finally, we
saw his deliberate, graceful shift away from
pop stardom, escaping the tyranny of the snare
drum, to become this respected, worldly balladeer,
actively choosing reinvention over nostalgia.
So now when you hear Cruel to be Kind or peace,
love, and understanding, or even the beast in
me, you know the full story behind the man who
wrote them. You understand the why behind his
career choices. And it brings us back to that
central paradox. His work is arguably much better
known than his name or face. Which leads to our
final thought for you. In today's world, everyone
seems obsessed with personal branding, with being
famous for being famous, you know, constantly
seeking the spotlight. Yeah, it's all about visibility.
So here's the question. Is there maybe a different
kind of success, perhaps even a quieter kind
of victory, in what Nick Lowe achieved? Letting
your actual work, the songs, the craft, become
globally famous and enduring, while you yourself
managed to retain a degree of anonymity, stepping
back from the fame game. Is there something more
lasting, maybe more artistically pure, in having
the art transcend the artist? Nick Lowe's career
certainly makes you wonder. Something to think
about.