They would still walk 500 miles
Charlie and Craig Reid, identical twins and leaders of the Edinburgh-based band the Proclaimers, celebrated their 42d birthday earlier this month. The duo has been playing together since 1983 and had a breakthrough in 1988 with its "Sunshine on Leith" album.
Charlie, who sings and plays guitar, muses about the aging process on the phone from Kingston, Ontario, on the verge of a North American tour: Does a musician improve over the years or does the fire die out?
"I think in the case of many rock or pop bands [the latter] is true," says Charlie. "But with country, blues, folk musicians, not so much. I think hard rock or high-energy rock is a young man's game, and there comes a point where, well, Mick Jagger can look very foolish. If you base your thing on youth, you're going to run into trouble after a certain time.
"We definitely never did that, and it's never sort of an issue for us. It's not a glamour-based thing at all."
What the Proclaimers do is put forth an earnest, often anthemic folk-punk music that is breezy on one hand and weighty on the other. They're fans of rousing melodies, and their sound has both sweetness and bite. Their most notable songs include "I'm on My Way," "Sunshine on Leith," "Letter From America," "Let's Get Married," and "(I'm Gonna Be) 500 Miles." The last, in fact, has worked overtime in movies ("Benny & Joon"), cartoons (Homer Simpson sang the tune), and in television commercials.
The usage gives the band considerable exposure, but does it taint the song itself?
"Certain songs I wouldn't want used," says Charlie, "and there's a couple we've turned down, like `Letter From America.' I think if you don't feel like the song is so ultra-important and needs to be treated with great gravitas, it's not a big deal for us."
The Proclaimers have released five albums, discounting compilations, during 17 years of recording, the longest gap from 1995 to 2001. "Intended, short gaps that became bloody long ones," Charlie calls them. The last one was a period where the Reids turned inward toward family. There were children born and their father's lingering illness. (He died in 1997.) "It wasn't too conducive to writing songs," Charlie says.
"It can be a career buster," he adds of the long period of inactivity. "You're lucky to get one shot in this game. It was unfortunate, but these things happen. And I wouldn't have done it any different; I would've made the same choices."
Were the Proclaimers prepared to come back and not find an audience waiting patiently?
"Of course, that's life," Charlie says. "It has been settled, and the public has settled it for you. Luckily for us, the audience has been there, and in some places it's very substantial. We've been very heartened."
The Proclaimers, who plan to play a two-hour-plus show tonight at the Paradise, are fleshed out by keyboardist Stevie Christie, drummer Ross McFarlane bassist Gary John Kane, and guitarist Stuart Nisbet. Most of the band has been together three years."
The Proclaimers' latest disc, "Born Innocent," starts with the sentiments "We're born innocent/ Found guilty/ Living life is treated like a crime" and "Our best never beats our worst/ It's as funny as it's perverse."
Charlie says, "That song specifically is more about the harsh judgments people put on each other. Are people more cynical now? I don't know. I think it goes in waves and has to be for different reasons -- sexual politics, national politics, everything is changing so quickly in attitude, in what's acceptable and what you can talk about."
On this album, the Reids condemn terrorism ("Blood on Your Hands") and compare bad love to crack cocaine ("Hate My Love") But they also sing of the joy of a new day ("Redeemed") and of love that doesn't wither but matures ("There's No Doubt").
The Reids write everything together, with Craig writing the bulk of the chord progressions and melodies and both writing lyrics. "Then we tune it for a long time, make key changes, muck about, change it again in the studio," Charlie says. Their relationship seems unlike the typically combative situations long seen in rock 'n' roll, such as the Kinks's Davies brothers or the Gallagher brothers of Oasis.
"We're more often in synch with each other," says Charlie. "Maybe in some ways we're not antagonistic enough. Maybe we'd get more done if there was, but you can't force a dynamic to be anything other than what it is."
