🟥 This article is translated from French.

HAD HE SMOKED? "I won't hide from you that I can lose my mind on stage in particular, the beast is within me." He looks up at the sky, pretends to pray, a smile at the corners of his mouth. "If I say shit or if I feel like screaming, it's because I feel the need to express myself, that's all." Okay then. But with a lot of violence. Physical violence when he comes to blows with a foreign colleague. Physical violence again when he demands a light and throws the press attaché's lighter back as a thank you. The violence of censorship finally when he dismisses a TV crew and refuses any French interview. All of them? All of them! Except one...

STORY. Let's not be afraid of words, The Vines is experiencing a fairy tale, a fairly banal fairy tale sketched out in 1995 around Sydney. Between sodas and hamburgers. "Back then, I was working at McDonald's, it wasn't a real job but it was enough for us to pay for records and weed." A bit of a loser and definitely slackers, The Vines rarely performed live. The band's activity was limited to just writing songs. On 4 tracks and in Craig's bedroom. Little by little, it's there that the band's identity would be forged, between sixties pop, The Kinks and Nirvana. The scene is set. End of the first episode. A simple demo in early 2001 was all it took for the story to accelerate. First at XL Recordings (The White Stripes, Prodigy) with the first single "Factory" and then shortly after a worldwide deal with Capitol. "It's true that there was nothing before The Vines, it's my first band. We miraculously landed on a major label and for that I have to admit we were lucky. But luck is part of the game and we were able to seize it." Since then, everything has snowballed. The sales, the press. Especially the British press (The Guardian, NME...). In a game of oneupmanship, in fact. But Craig pretends to ignore the whole circus around the band: "We don't feel any particular pressure because we're not really aware of all that. I'm free to do what I want. We're not puppets. We delivered the album turnkey, take it or leave it. You can imagine I'm not going to tolerate anyone meddling in our business. And if the band has a unifying effect, it's because we borrow elements from different genres. The Vines is noise, pop, punk rock, heavy metal, even country rock. Everyone can find something for themselves. What matters is always giving your best and unleashing all the energy slumbering within us. But that doesn't mean we're going to be shouting 'fuck this' or 'fuck that' like punks can. We're not warmongers who want to change the system." Indeed, The Vines seems disconnected from reality...

ART. Craig lives in "an enchanting world where everything is beautiful. I want to escape to create a new world and it's only through my art, my affection and my emotional capacity that I could try to create something. There has to be a unity of tone between my music and my painting. It's complementary and essential to combine it all." The break is clear between the basic teenager he was until very recently and the artist he now wants to establish himself as. "We're not going to smash guitars at every show to give ourselves a persona. We don't pay particular attention to that. The instruments are tools, the only thing that matters is the art we create. The guitars have to help us transcend ourselves to reach the higher level, in that sense they are the tools of our designs. Nothing more." But the others? What others? Craig Nicholls is The Vines all by himself. It's he who composes, who breathes life into it but it's also he who derails. 

Protective and annoyed, bassist-singer Patrick Matthews keeps watch to correct the gaffes. The drummer's stage performance isn't always squared away, and as for the second guitarist, he's relegated to a supporting role as a decoration. Will he get his own spotlight soon? Still, the picture isn't that bleak. Even if NME prematurely crowned them "new rock superstars in 10 years blah blah blah", and even if his painting talents remain debatable "What? You don't like it?", Craig has a real gift for songwriting. The melodies are unstoppable. The debut album Highly Evolved has 4-5 very strong tracks (which I wouldn't dare call classics just yet). And if he can shed his desperately cloying 60s pop influences, this band can do damage. At least in the studio. Live is another story. The Vines isn't conceived as a band. Craig's personality is too overpowering for the others who struggle just to find their place. And Craig seeks himself out, sometimes a vile kid escaped from War of the Buttons (cut off his willy?), sometimes an androgynous asexual. He sways back on the chair again, caresses my microphone. Pretends to bite it. Won't bite it. He moves around the table with slow, sensual hip movements. The show has begun: young teens press their noses against the pub window. The beast feels watched, spied on. He redoubles his efforts in gesturing. The first five rows of young girls will later delight in the bare chest he exhibits.  

As for the immediate future, it's already "a new album, more extreme, more sophisticated. As soon as the tour is over, we'll start working on it. Early January, I hope, and probably in the US." A bit premature, no? No matter, that's life and maybe it's urgent after all to strike while the iron is hot.