All photos by Andrew Leo Photography
Way back at the start of 2020, I already knew that I’d probably end up naming Scott Lavene’s second album, Milk City Sweethearts, as my top album of 2021—just as I named his Broke my favorite album of 2019—because I’d heard nearly every song on the album in demo form long before it was released. The demos sounded like finished songs, and as my long-suffering wife will attest to, I played the shit out of those demos. Over and over and over again, for like three or four months straight. (Luckily she liked them, too. “That fucking love song about amphetamines is now stuck in my brain forever,” she told me.)
Milk City Sweethearts—out now on vinyl and streaming in all the usual places—is a damned fine album. There are no weak songs on it. It’s all killer, no filler, but certain numbers do still stand out. Lucky for you, I’ve posted it below. There is no obstacle whatsoever between you and hearing what I think is just… the very finest example of an up & coming singer-songwriter making music today. I get it, you’ve never heard of the guy, nevertheless I am not wrong. If you like the likes of Ian Dury, Elvis Costello, Nick Lowe, Squeeze—or Father John Misty—you will, I am absolutely certain of it, find much to love in Scott Lavene’s music. Maybe even scroll down and play it as the soundtrack to reading the rest of this post? You won’t regret it.
And it’s not just the music, because he is also a wonderfully charismatic performer. It is impossible not to be charmed by his (often quite elaborate) music videos and easy to imagine The Scott Lavene Show turning up on television one day. Sketch comedy, celebrity guests, a little song and dance… He’s that sort of “old fashioned” performer. You don’t encounter his particular brand of talent much these days, you just don’t.
So yeah, Milk City Sweethearts is my very, very favorite album of the year (the runner-up is Cathal Coughlin’s terrific Song Of Co-Aklan). I think you should hear it. And if you like it (what’s not to like???) you should tell all your friends. Scott Lavene, at this point in his career, is still very much a word-of-mouth sort of artist, so please spread the love and maybe follow him on Twitter?
What more can I say? Time for me to give Scott a chance. I asked him a few questions over email. Below you will find an embedded a Spotify playlist, and several of Scott’s latest videos, including the premiere of “The Toffee Tickler,” directed by the very talented Ryan Anderson, who often collaborates with Lavene.
As you don’t have an obvious fit with the same pop charts that recognize Dua Lipa, BTS or Olivia Rodrigo, how do you and your label go about promoting your music? What is the strategy?
The strategy is mainly banging on closed doors. Sending emails to radio and bloggers and magazines. Sending hard copies of the album when they show up. We have distribution which helps get the record in shops. For this album we had funding for some PR but they did pretty much nothing so we just rely on word of mouth. But, since the pandemic it seems i’ve got more of an audience as more people are coming to my shows and we’ve sold more pre orders. It’s growing. People that like my music really really like it. Broke wasn’t really doing much until Dangerous Minds found the record so we just crack on and wait for the little breaks.
Where do you see yourself fitting in?
I’m not sure I fit in anywhere. Everyone I get compared to is from the 70’s. I think of myself as an old fashioned songwriter though I’ve been added to a couple of post punk playlists so I guess I’m also that, which is ok as it’s a bit of a thing at the moment. But, oh my do I love writing ballads. I’ve written a new album that I’m hopefully going to record soon and it’s more of the same odd stories and trying to make pop songs out of mental health problems. Then after that I’m going to make a whole album of ballads. Big stinky, cynical, weepy ones. I guess I don’t want to fit in. A lot of my heroes just made what they liked and didn’t fit in anywhere other than in their own worlds and that’s what I’m aiming for, invites into my delicious environment of bad love and misfits.
Well I have noticed that nearly every single time that I’ve pestered someone to have a listen to what you do—and they actually listen—you make an instant convert. I sent a link to “The Ballad of Lynsey” to a arch rock snob friend of mine and his immediate reply was “You’re right, this guy is some kind of genius.” Bart Bealmear, one of the writers at Dangerous Minds heard about you first via that post I did about you in 2019, and he told me that his wife and also his mother-in-law became big fans of Broke as well. It seems to me that anytime someone with good taste is exposed to your music, you gain a new fan.
Yeah. It seems that when people get it, they really get it. And they get it bad. These are the people that make it all worth it, that make me think I’m not just churning out shit. I’m terrible at networking and getting in people’s faces. I just can’t be bothered, and I’m shy. But, anyway, I feel successful. There was a time when i thought I might not play again. Plus, I’ve made some great music in the last few years, music I’m proud of, music that’s taken years of living to make. Teenagers, the middle aged and oldies buy my records. I love it.
I think tenacity is the key and that you’ll just have to keep plugging away, and producing new music and eventually the fans will find you, and then they’ll have an deep back catalog to discover. You’re like a one-man version of the Go-Betweens, but eventually people did catch on to them. I think it will happen for you, I really do. Your music is just too good. Now what about your publishing? I can easily imagine your stuff being used in TV and movies.
A one man version of the Go-Betweens is my new favourite compliment, thank you. I think I’m getting better. I thought I’d never write an album like Broke but Milk City Sweethearts is better yet and this next one I’m working on is going to be amazing. And yes, I’ve got a new publisher. A small but great one based in Newcastle called Wipeout Music. They’re working away on that side of things so we’ll see. It used to be called selling out but fuck that. If it means I haven’t got to get a normal job for a while then I’ll sell out in a flash. However it would be ironic to make advertising money from a song called “Broke.”
What is your day job?
These days I do quite a few things. Mainly running creative writing workshops for various arts organisations and theatres. Normally it’s writing workshops for outsiders, mentally ill, addicts, ex-cons. It’s the best job I’ve ever had, showing people that you don’t need an education or have to know any long words to tell stories. I get to go into prisons to perform and take workshops. I also do a bit of photography, and this week I’ve been making some educational films for prisons. It’s good work, much better than some of the jobs I’ve had.
Like what kind of jobs?
I mean I’ve never been a Brazilian coal miner but I’ve cleaned pub toilets, I’ve worked in cold factories with a small amphetamine habit and on East London building sites full of racists. I briefly had a job as a driver for two prostitutes but I only lasted two nights as I couldn’t cope with the look in the eyes of the girls. I’ve made bad food for minimum wage and good food for even less. Back then I got fired a lot for foul play or not showing up but didn’t care because there was always music. But the wheels fell off my mental health and I didn’t play music for five years. I tried to be “normal” so got a job in care work, trying to be a better person by wiping the arses of mental ill men but I just couldn’t stay “normal” for very long and ended up drinking Special Brew with a schizophrenic I was supposed to be looking after who thought that I was Al Pacino. Once I lost that job I was back working with a bricklayer who liked to drink cheap cider for breakfast which was a more harmonious job as I did that too. But that job turned sour after he tried to throw me out of a cherry picker as I’d lost his benzos.
You’re clearly a national treasure in waiting, Scott! Your Guardian profile will be happening shortly. Now I know that you’ve performed an autobiographical one-man show at various fringe festivals, am I correct—from what I’ve read—that it begins with your getting out of a mental hospital?
It was an institution. A residential for six months in a place on the south coast. I was put there but stayed voluntarily. Though I’d self harmed for years, by then I was cutting and burning myself everyday which aren’t good methods for modern living. I was leaving suicide voicemails to a drug counsellor I had and she got me in there. I wasn’t aware of it really happening. A drastic measure but, eventually, one I was happy for as I’d been alone for a long time. I came to in a strange bed, surrounded by many other unwell people, teenage ketamine addicts, mothers who’d had their children removed, and violent criminals but, mostly, it was full of very lonely humans, a house for the bewildered. Over the years I lived in the South of France and on boats and I’ve laid down with some exquisite creatures but the half a year I spent in that place was the greatest time of my life.
What happened after you got out?
Well I stayed clean, moved into a dry house with a Moroccan armed robber, a lawyer, a speed metal drummer and a tennis coach who always wore tennis clothes but never seemed to play. I started working with another sober guy as a fireplace fitter so I spent a lot of time on the roofs of buildings which might not have been the best choice for someone with suicidal tendencies but I liked the solitude up there, just me and the seagulls.
I was swimming in the sea every day and attending an arts charity for addicts and loonies which led to playing music for therapy. I sat at the back playing a bit of lead guitar for a few months before i told them i was a songwriter. When they heard my songs they made me a resident artist and gave me a place to practice and write and also paid me to run songwriting workshops. A lot happened at once. I got a girlfriend on a writing course and she was pregnant almost immediately, even though all precautions were taken. Luckily we fell in love, quick. She’s a good woman. Then I was asked to join a touring band as a piano player where the leader encouraged me to record an album by myself. The songs I’d been writing were pretty good so I made an album under the name of Big Top Heartbreak with little expectation but then the first single made record of the week on a national radio station and the ball began to roll. I was signed by a small label in Bristol and that’s when I made the album you guys loved, Broke. It’s been a gas. Sometimes, very occasionally I miss the old, wild days, but for now the beast sleeps. I write every day. I’m working on a book and another album and I just take care of shit.