The Monochrome Set - Black-and-white art pop for lovers of riddles

Humorous yet refined, surprising yet instantly recognisable within a few bars, Ganesh Seshadri's Monochrome Set (known simply as Bid) remain one of the most underrated treasures of the eighties, responsible for at least four essential albums – from their full-length debut "Strange Boutique" in 1980 through to "The Lost Weekend" in 1985 – plus a subsequent discography still brimming with ingenious ideas, golden "eggs of Columbus" that, within the span of a radio-friendly running time, unfold stories of caricatured or grotesque characters. Bid's languid, world-weary vocal delivery paved the way for the likes of Franz Ferdinand and Morrissey, and comes paired with a compositional talent capable of blending everything from post-punk to western soundtracks via Sixties "jingle-jangle pop" – all underpinned by genuine literary flair. The Monochrome Set's lyrics, moreover, are sophisticated yet visceral, skilled at digging up the dust we've swept under our own carpets, and a perfect reminder that the ultimate meaning of existence, looked at closely, lies entirely in its relentless nonsense.

Bid, what are the essential ingredients for a successful Monochrome Set recipe?
We're a band built around lyrics, and that in itself guarantees longevity. It's precisely the solid threads running through the lyrics that allow the music to evolve and change, at least slightly, from one album to the next. The instrumentation and approach can vary, but our musical journey carries on along a path that's winding, yet coherent.

What are your lyrics about?
The themes largely stem from observations of things I've experienced, whether real or... imaginary. What they have in common, I suppose, is the absence of any moralistic tone, unless the song happens to be about me. Also, you'll never find any references to politics in there: I hate politics.

Which album required the least effort while yielding the best creative result?
I'd say the same amount of effort went into every album. On average, it takes about six months to write enough songs to fill an album. The exceptions, for different reasons, were "Strange Boutique" and "Love Zombies"; the former was the result of three years of writing in fits and starts ("Goodbye Joe" and "He's Frank", for instance, date back to 1977), while the latter was written much more quickly, simply because we needed money.

The refinement and originality of your writing make one wonder which books influenced you most during your formative years.
I've been reading poetry since I was about 12. From 12 to 18 I attended Grammar School, and in the first year there was a religious education class scheduled once a week. My parents had me excused from that subject, and I took advantage of it to hole up in the school library, which was quite large. So, for forty minutes every week, I'd amuse myself in the library picking out short texts, like ghost stories and assorted poems. That might explain how the whole thing started. At first I was influenced by a bit of everyone, modern authors like Ogden Nash and Edith Sitwell but also Classics such as Swift and Coleridge, the latter for the rhythm of their verses, which in a way are close to the world of song lyrics.

Is a lyricist a poet?
There's a huge difference between song lyrics and poetry: they may be related fields, but they're two separate branches of literature.

The subtle reference to Genesis in the song "Rest, unquiet spirit" (from 2019's "Fabula Mendax") suggests that progressive rock too is one of the genres that has fed your inspiration.
It was keyboardist John Paul Moran who played that part, completely out of the blue. We weren't sure about it, but in the end we kept it in. Anyway, almost everything in the early Seventies was interesting because experimentation reigned supreme. Problems arise – in the case of prog, but not only there – when a band stays anchored to a sound typical of its era, losing sight of the song itself. It's a problem when you repeat yourself without good reason. Every sound should be thought of as a suit of clothes, inside which, for it to retain any meaning, there has to be someone wearing it.

What about the B-Sides – could they be considered the larval band from which the Monochrome Set hatched?
The B-Sides were the band that Stuart Goddard (later renamed Adam Ant) had formed together with guitarist Lester Square. Andy (Warren) joined them on bass, and then I joined too as rhythm guitarist. In place of drums there was a drum machine. Stuart wrote the songs and we put them together as a group; he was talented, confident, charismatic, but also (as I discovered later) suffering from mental health issues. I didn't notice it at the time, but one day he disappeared and wasn't seen around for a while; I was later told he'd been hospitalised. So while he was away, Lester, Andy and I started working on some songs I'd written. I don't remember what our intention was: a new band...? And then the rest is history, our history.

What do you think of Adam & the Ants?
Adam and the Ants actually had a pretty short career. It wasn't really my kind of thing, but hey, I didn't dislike their music.

What was Lester's role as a guitarist in the Monochrome Set?
At first his main contribution was structural in nature; what I mean is that he played an important role in encouraging me to take an innovative approach to songwriting. Then, on a technical level, it should be said that both he and bassist Jeremy Harrington often played melodic parts underneath my vocal lines. That's about it.

There's a figure some early fans consider the "fifth Monochrome Set": the artist Tony Potts.
Around the time drummer J.D. Haney joined the band, he was living in a house with three other people, and Tony was one of them. There was also Paul Humphries, who became our first manager, and Savage Pencil, a cartoonist for the music paper Sounds. Their house also became our rehearsal space. If I remember correctly, Tony was studying film at some art college and had projectors and film reels; it happened that, in early 1979, on someone's suggestion or his own initiative, I can't recall, he started projecting his films behind us during gigs, and he ended up becoming part of the band too.

Has the sarcasm that often characterises your lyrics ever served as a shield, stopping you from revealing something too personal?
I suppose there is sarcasm in my lyrics, but I don't notice it while I'm writing. That said, albums from the new millennium like "Platinum Coils" and "Lotus Bridge" contain a lot of autobiographical songs. Maybe it's not that obvious, I don't know. Still, I think overly personal things aren't actually all that interesting.

Over more than 45 years of career, how have you managed to avoid the clichés of pop-rock music?
Since we don't sell millions of records, we're not tempted to repeat ourselves.

Which song lyric made you realise that popular music too can resonate with poetic elements?
Rather than quote you a specific line, I'd like to point out that a great many of the songs I listened to when I was young had fantastic lyrics, even if that wasn't always obvious. The point is it wasn't just Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Lou Reed and so on. Cream, for example, used to commission their lyrics from actual poets. One particularly underrated lyricist, in my opinion, is Jimi Hendrix.

How did you manage to return to tackling the structural complexity of your songs after the harsh ordeal of the 2010 aneurysm?
Once I understood that I would survive and that I'd be able to play again, I picked back up with the Monochrome Set — who had just reformed — and hoped for the best. I started writing "Platinum Coils" in 2011 and, to be honest, it was easier than before, aside from the bouts of aphasia caused by the brain damage. I never expected I'd be able to write about my hospital experience, but in the end I let it happen.

Imagine having to create the "ideal lyricist" in a lab: which artists would you need to bring together to assemble your "Frankenstein's monster"?
Here too I'd like to answer by framing the question from another angle: for new, significant lyricists to be born and grow, you need to give deserving people time and means to develop and, no small condition, a music industry they can fit into. It's a very complex discussion, but what I want to stress is that real artists need time to find their voice. Only that way will they uncover their own uniqueness.

Your songs enjoy particular success in Japan: how do you explain that to yourself?
I can't explain it! It's just that they see things differently, the way a cat sees things compared to a raccoon.

Given the current state of Western society, I have to ask: will artists ultimately be defeated by AI, or will original creativity prevail over this new technological possibility?
Last year the Japanese composer Cornelius sent me some music written using AI and asked me to write lyrics for it and sing them. So, playing around with words, I wrote "You Make Me Cyborg", a love song between two cyborgs in which I imagined the characters of Roy Batty and Pris from the film "Blade Runner". I thought the lyric turned out really well written, and that AI could never even have imagined it. I was quite pleased with that. In any case, if you have the patience to read my book "Strange Young Alien: Selected Lyrics", in the section where I deal with the concept of Creature/Creatureliness, I point out that AI cannot be made to produce art unless it somehow manages to replicate our Creatureliness. And science is still a long way from achieving that.

Have Ganesh Seshadri's Eastern roots ever influenced the Monochrome Set's imagery?
I don't think so. Also, in the early years, a lot of people thought I was Italian.

In an ideal world, mainstream success would have gone to the Monochrome Set rather than to a band that owes you a great deal in terms of influence and is objectively inferior, like Franz Ferdinand.
While I do consider the Monochrome Set a mainstream band, it's true we don't sell huge quantities worldwide, which leads people to believe that somehow we haven't achieved success. That's not the case. We simply don't make the kind of music that the majors understand, seek out and intend to promote. My experience tells me that when people who've never heard us come to one of our shows, they inevitably end up liking us, becoming fans of our strange, wild way of making music.

Among the hundreds of interviews you've given over your career, has there ever been a question that stood out from the rest and made you think?
I'd say 50% of the questions I get asked make me think.

What do you remember about your outstanding full-length debut "Strange Boutique"?
We had put out a few singles for Rough Trade, and recording our debut album for them was the most natural next step we could have taken. However, the label Dindisc made us a particularly interesting offer, and we decided to record for them instead. None of us gave that choice too much thought: we were young and figured the world was at our feet. It later turned out the world was little more than a... whelk.

What's the least obvious virtue of a masterpiece like "Love Zombies"?
It's not a masterpiece, it's just a very, very mischievous album.

What is "woke" culture?
It's fear, slavery in various guises, self-hatred, ignorance imposed from above. It's walking a path that others have laid out for you.

What's the greatest illusion we're immersed in today?
Almost everything around us is illusory, including part of the history of humankind.

So what should we trust, then?
Our soul.

The mind can be deceived. The senses can be wrong. Is there a space within our human nature where we can experience an incontrovertible Truth?
I just hope that some people arrive before the Truth, even in spite of their own will not to get there.

This one's from Paul Gauguin: "I shut my eyes in order to see". What do you think of that?
We perceive in many different ways, and consciousness doesn't necessarily have to be informed of or involved in the process.

If you had to picture heaven and hell, how would you imagine them?
I root for West Ham football club.

From a musical standpoint, what's your next goal?
I don't know; the world is changing radically and I can't predict exactly what will happen in the future. Still, I remain an optimist, so let me say that simply surviving is already a good result. I'll let a few months go by before I start writing again.

Is there any advice you'd like to give the Bid of 50 years ago?
Even if there were, I'd have ignored my own advice.

What's the most extraordinary thing about being an artist?
Well, for starters, you learn to cook. And tonight we're serving Occitan-style stew!

(18 October 2026)

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