Foto-© Michaela Simpson

Dass kein Album wie das vorherige klingen soll, dass es also künstlerisch immer vorwärts geht – das sagen zwar viele Musiker, aber oft ist es eben nur eine Behauptung. Hamish Hawk, der großartige Sänger und Indiepop-Songwriter aus Edinburgh, macht gar nicht so viel Aufhebens um seine Wandlungsfähigkeit – er liefert einfach. Auch jetzt, mit seinem neuen Album A Firmer Hand, das am 16. August über das Label So erscheint und eine neue Karriere-Stufe für den 32-jährigen Schotten zünden dürfte. Wie die Vorgänger ist die Platte brillant, aber auch wieder anders als gewohnt. Wir haben Hamish Hawk, diesem so umgänglichen und bescheidenen wie zielstrebigen Künstler, ein paar Fragen über seine Songs und seine Entwicklung gestellt.

I saw you live in Berlin Passionskirche supporting Villagers some weeks ago. You seemed quite happy on stage as a solo artist. In September you’ll be back in Germany supporting Travis. Do you like these surroundings – touring with two quite different, always great bands, one of them of your homeland, Scotland?
When I first started out, I performed solo the overwhelming majority of the time. Nowadays the pendulum has swung in the opposite direction, and the band shows fill most of my time. Sometimes I get nervous about performing solo, I worry audiences prefer the louder stuff, and that they mightn’t like me walking onto the stage like a troubadour, acoustic guitar in hand. I’m still working on not giving these thoughts too much oxygen; it’s crippling. Both solo and full band shows have their merits, and truth be told, I’d like to perform solo more often. I’d like to keep the muscle working, as it were. As for playing internationally, I get a lot out of it. It’s life-affirming to watch people enjoy my music. It’s a gift.

Your albums sound quite different in my opinion, from Aznavour (2014) and Laziest River (2019) to recent, lush sounding records Heavy Elevator, Angel Numbers and the forthcoming A Firmer Hand. Do You consider yourself as an ever evolving singer-songwriter, being bored by repeating a formula?
I reckon I am quite easily bored, yes. And certainly, when it comes to formula in music (or at least in my own music), I find it tedious. This said, I feel like I ought to acknowledge that when on the occasions I’ve changed direction, from the indie-pop of From Zero to One to the piano-led compositions of Laziest River, for example, it’s been more of a flight of fancy for me, as opposed to a strategic move. If I feel a change in the wind, I’ll go with it, if I muster up the courage. If something feels right, then it likely is. I’m flattered to be considered an evolving songwriter.

So please tell us more about your development. You started to make music while studying at St. Andrews University, a small, beautiful Scottish east coast town (I had the opportunity to visit it last year). What made you a singer-songwriter then?
Since I was a child, I’ve loved performing. I studied drama at school (not music, perhaps surprisingly), and took guitar lessons, although soon lost enthusiasm for the latter. Around the age of fourteen or fifteen, I started learning chords and writing my own songs. I didn’t know that this would continue indefinitely. Songwriting has always been a pleasure for me, and an outlet for tricky emotions I’m not sure how else to deal with. It was in St. Andrews that things really started to grow, I wrote a lot and performed wherever I could, and it was towards the end of my time there that I met Fence Records founder and musical hero of mine, King Creosote, and he mentored me, and helped me release my first album, Aznavour. I was so lucky that the cards fell the way they did. I relied a lot on his kindness, and he taught me so much. He found me the right audiences, the sort of people who would appreciate what I was doing. I can’t thank him enough for that.

Let`s talk about your singing. It’s fabulous – a warm baritone that reminds me of Scott Walker, Jarvis Cocker, Neil Hannon, Nick Cave, Richard Hawley. And Morrissey of course. Do you like these comparisons, which one fits best for you? When did you discover your voice as a singer?
Every one of these comparisons is a huge compliment, and I think I see where they might come from. Walker/Cocker for the drama, the baritone croon, the larger than life lyrics. Morrissey for the attention to poetry, the romantic sweep of the songs. Neil Hannon perhaps for the wordplay, and the comic sensibility, as well as the timbre of the voice, again. As much as I love Nick Cave’s work, I see less of him in my work, although perhaps A Firmer Hand brings his influence to the fore. Quite honestly, it was only in the last year or two I “discovered” my voice as a singer. It might sound faintly ridiculous, but I’ve never really considered myself a singer, always a songwriter, or a lyricist. I’m still coming round to the fact that people actually like the sound of my singing voice. It’s an asset I hadn’t previously given much thought to. It’s likely absurd, but it’s true.

Your new album might be your crowning achievement as a singer and songwriter. Luxurious songs, melodies to remember, some funky grooves and danceable rhythms (Big Cat Tattoos for example), and on top – your great voice. How do you estimate A Firmer Hand in your catalogue?
Thank you, I’m very flattered you think so. I have said in the past that I’m the worst person to ask about what my albums sound like, as when I listen to them, I mostly hear myself. Like hearing your own voice on a voicemail, it can be uncomfortable. What I do know about A Firmer Hand is that it’s the most revealing, painful, and lyrically dense album I have ever recorded. It’s a tough listen for me, as it’s like pouring over old diary entries. Let’s just say I’m glad that the days that inspired those entries have been and gone.

The sound of A Firmer Hand is bigger than ever, like New Order meets The Smiths meets Pulp in my ears. Did you want to have it this way from the beginning, or did the sound develop in the studio?
Andrew Pearson (my guitarist and co-writer) and Stefan Maurice (my drummer and co-writer) did an exceptional job with the music on this record. We wanted the record to be a band record, insofar as we wanted the only instruments that featured on the album to be those that we play on stage. We wanted it to sound like people making music in a room, as opposed to some expansive, impossible sound. In the end, these self-imposed limitations have resulted in the songs sounding bigger, and hopefully more impactful for the listener.

You called A Firmer Hand your “coming of age record”. What does that mean? Is your songwriting autobiographical?
Absolutely. I’ve always written autobiographically. That’s not to say the songs I write ought to be taken entirely literally, there are poetic flourishes and embellishments all over the place. But my songs are always inspired and directed by real experiences I’ve had, and my songwriting helps me to make sense of those experiences. A Firmer Hand is the most uncompromising, unapologetic album I’ve written; in that sense it is a “coming of age” record. It is a record that cares little for how others define it, and I think that happens to most of us as we age, we care less about how we are perceived. At least, I’d like to think so.

Would you agree it’s a queer record as well, with lyrics like Men Like Wire for example, or Christopher St.? Do you see yourself as an openly gay artist, a LGBTQ artist?
I don’t care to define myself in any particular way; I don’t feel it offers me much. I’m more than happy for others to use the terms they see fit to describe me, but it’s not my business, really. I’ve never been one to constrain myself, and I certainly don’t take too kindly to pigeonholing, I suppose I just don’t give much thought to how to “define” myself. I think that’s likely because I spent years trying to do just that, and it caused me no end of internal turmoil, and in the end I got nowhere. The album deals primarily in my relationships with men, and that’s about all one needs to know to understand the record, and even then, maybe they needn’t know that.

There’s some interesting name dropping in the lyrics – Jacques Brel, Frankie Valli, Kafka, All Things Must Pass (the legendary George Harrison album) etc. Do you like to mention some of your heroes?
A lot is made of the references in my songs. There are not always heroes, in fact, they’re often decidedly not my heroes, but for me they are a kind of shorthand, if you will. Jacques Brel, Tommy Cooper, Franz Kafka, it is as much about these people as it is about where I first discovered them, the conversation I had recently in which they were mentioned, the emotional place I was in when years ago I read Die Verwandlung, or listened to All Things Must Pass six months ago. It is the world of imagination they conjure for me when I bring them to mind. In my songs, Britt Ekland sits beside George Harrison, Elvis Presley speaks to Bill Callahan, and it’s those invented worlds and situations that I’m seeking to explore. These names are tools, just like any other words in my songs, to create something, to build something unique in the mind of the listener.

You were born and you live in Edinburgh (a city I absolutely love). What does the historic capital of Scotland mean to you? Are you part of a special Scottish music scene?
Edinburgh is very special to me. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly how it’s affected my music, but I think it can be identified in a lot of my songs. I can spot it anyway. Growing up in Edinburgh has given me a certain appreciation of beauty, of history, and of a perspective one gets living in the in-betweens. Edinburgh has none of the traps of a major city, and yet it is certainly not the countryside. It’s the capital of Scotland, but it’s not even its largest city. Glasgow has traditionally been the cultural hub of Scotland, and throughout my early years as a songwriter I had to find most of my work there. It’s great to play even a modest role in establishing an Edinburgh scene that goes beyond Edinburgh’s role as a “festival” city. I’ve never successfully moved out of Edinburgh, it’s too much a part of who I am.

To finish this interview, kind of track-by-track – please name your favourite songs of A Firmer Hand, with some explanations. Feel free to add personal thoughts on these new songs – whatever You want.
Juliet As Epithet – It’s one of the few songs I have that I’m truly, truly happy with. I wouldn’t change a moment of it. There are always things I’d like to improve if I had another shot; it’s a great feeling to be able to listen to it and enjoy each and every part.

Machiavelli’s Room – It’s the second song on the album, and the second song I wrote for the album. A Firmer Hand was written entirely in its image. It’s the lustful, animalistic dark heart of the record.

Autobiography Of Spy – It’s unlikely that Autobiography could ever have been a single, but for an album track, it’s one of my favourites I’ve ever written. I had so many alternate verses for this song, and whilst writing it, I wrote a list of imaginary titles for spies’ autobiographies. There are two in the song: God Knows Archipelago and Hammersmith & Valentine.

The Hard Won – The final track on the album is something of an apology to the objects of my affections in previous albums. I’m owning up to past wrongs in this song, and it reflects a few awkward conversations I have had, and explanations I’ve not given. It’s a bit of a difficult listen for me.

Thank you for the interview and good luck, Hamish!

Hamish Hawk Tour:
03.09.24 Köln, Live Music Hall*
04.09.24 Berlin, Huxleys Neue Welt*
05.09.24 Hamburg, Docks*
06.10.24 Köln, Jaki
07.10.24 Berlin, Badehaus
08.10.24 Hamburg, Nochtwache
*Support für Travis