Thomas Cohen is only 25, but the story of his life already reads like that of a seasoned songwriter from another era: a meteoric career as leader of a band, S.C.U.M., riding the crest of hype in the late 2000s, and a personal story in which love, drug addiction and tabloid press intertwine right up to the most tragic of endings. A tale of love and death that the young Londoner recounts on his solo debut, “Bloom Forever”, out on Stolen Recordings, with the hope that it will stay in the shadows once the spotlight turns on his music.
We meet in Milan, sitting at the tables of one of the city's most popular venues, at aperitivo time.
You're in Milan for a fashion photo shoot, and I'd like to start by talking a bit about your image: do you often work as a model, or is this the first time?
No, it's not the first time. Being a musician means finding yourself in a strange no-man's-land, because obviously you're not a model, but you still end up doing these things in the fashion world, which sometimes make sense and sometimes don't — it's up to you to choose. But I've never really wanted to be a model. I love clothes a lot, but I'm not that comfortable with the fashion side of things.
But you do have a lot of style, your image is very recognizable — how important is this aspect to you? Is it something that defines you, or just something you enjoy?
It's a fairly unconscious thing, certainly not something I worry about much. I don't force it, I don't think it's any more important to me than to anyone else, but it's something I enjoy.
Let's talk about "Bloom Forever". When I found out the tracklist was arranged chronologically, the first thing that came to mind was "Boyhood", the Richard Linklater film that portrays a boy's transformation into a man. Is that something you were also trying to do with your record?
Oh yeah... I didn't like that film! Everyone I know loved it, even my parents, who never go to the cinema — my dad told me, "Go see it, you'll love it, it reminded us so much of you." But I didn't like it. I think the chronological order makes [the album] more cinematic, and that, if you want, listening closely you can follow a kind of story, but it's not a direct reference to the film.
No, of course, I meant letting a representation of your growth come through in the tracks.
Oh yeah, okay. I think so. I just wonder whether there's actually been some maturing and growth. But I do think so.
Yes, me too. The themes and the approach you chose for your record aren't unusual for a singer-songwriter, especially knowing who your influences are. Sometimes this kind of writing serves as therapy to process what's happening in your life. Is that your case too?
Yes, definitely. And I think it's something that's getting slightly lost among musicians who don't work alone. Writing music by yourself lets you explore facets you wouldn't consider when you're in a group — a band is a form of socializing.
How do you write your songs?
I wrote 7 songs on guitar, one on piano, and one in a dream.
So the music comes first, then?
Yes, that tends to be the case. Usually the music is born first, and right after I finish the melody, the lyrics come quickly and naturally. And I really didn't have to struggle at all to write the lyrics for this record.
In the presentation of “Bloom Forever” you say it would bother you a lot if people listened to the album and only thought about you. I'm not sure I agree with that statement, because if I think of one of the names you mention as an inspiration, Van Morrison, “Astral Weeks” is impossible to separate from him and his life. Why did you say that?
Because, even when it comes to “Astral Weeks”, what matters to me is my own relationship with that record, not Van Morrison's life in 1968. What I mean by that statement has more to do with how I'm perceived than with what I'm singing about on the album, the lyrics and the music. It's inevitable that people respond to music with their own thoughts and their own experience, if they listen to it seriously. I just wouldn't want people's perception of me, first and foremost, to be that.
I'm asking because, not living in Britain, before preparing this interview I had no idea of the sheer amount of tabloid press that comes out about you every day. On Google, the results are almost all tabloid articles… Are you perhaps afraid that this side of things might overshadow your musical career?
No, I'm not afraid. Not wanting people to think only of that side of things doesn't mean being scared of it. But precisely because none of that exists over here, I can't wait to tour Europe, to have dates in Europe, because everything is purer there and I love that.
In contrast with all that overexposure, you don't have much of an online presence. You don't have a website, finding your music is difficult. Is that a deliberate reaction, or does it just not interest you?
No, it's just that I've only just started out as a musician, I hope that changes in the future! For now I've only released two songs, the album isn't out yet, after that it'll be different. It's not intentional. I'd like to have access to all the musical resources that are out there.
You moved to Iceland for a while, while working on the record. Why there specifically?
Because my producer is Icelandic, and so are the musicians who played on the album; we were working in London and we worked out it would cost us €65 a day more [than] doing it in Iceland, so it seemed like the obvious choice. Also, it was a house-studio. I'd never been to Reykjavik before, it's roughly the size of this street — on the side street there's just a bar and a church, nothing else. Then you're surrounded by the ocean, by mountains, it snows almost every month, so it seemed like the perfect place.
Because, you know, knowing your songwriting intentions and having heard the album, one would have expected Laurel Canyon or Nashville…
I would have loved that, but it wasn't possible. But half of Iceland looks so much like American soil, believe me! We landed at the airport and drove to Reykjavik: with those shopping malls it looked like it had been colonized by some southern US state, it's crazy. But I would have liked to make it there, even though it was really lovely in Iceland. Next time!
You chose a very full sound for this record, whereas often a work this intimate would just be voice and guitar or piano. How did it feel to have other musicians working on such personal material?
I worked with three other musicians, one of them a drummer, so there weren't many people involved. I trusted them because they simply improvised, reacting to what I let them hear, to the lyrics, to the music; that's something that helped make the album considerably better. I think that trusting them unconditionally is what allowed them to play the way they did. So I felt good about it, I was very happy, and I'd like to keep working this way with other musicians I admire.
You've already performed all of “Bloom Forever” live a couple of times — what was that like? What was it like playing those songs on a stage?
Amazing, truly amazing. It's something I thought about for a long time, and in the end it felt almost surreal. I don't feel that present while I'm playing, it just happens, and it's the best feeling there is. I think it's exactly the feeling a professional snowboarder gets, gliding down a mountain strapped to a board.
So you didn't have any emotional highs?
No, no, they happened, absolutely. When I say I wasn't present, I don't mean on an emotional level, but on a mental one.
I ask you because it happened to me too, writing a very personal lyric about something that happened to my family, without ever thinking I'd have to read it in public. Then it happened, and I couldn't make it to the end…
Was it hard for you?
Yes…
No, for me it wasn't hard. It wasn't a happy moment, but I think it was different, more the transformation of something very sad rather than simply dictating it. Sure, I felt sad too at certain points, but it wasn't my only feeling.
I'd like to go back for a moment to your image and talk about the video for “Bloom Forever”. The way you present yourself is quite strange and awkward. I get the impression that while some songwriters hide their true feelings under layers and layers of arrangements in the sound, which you didn't do on the record, in your case the shield is the image itself…
More or less. Am I that different from the video?
Yes, definitely…
Really?!
Yes, you're much more serious and at ease in real life…
Yes, that's true. I think it's simply a representation. It's a thin veil of humor. Which is an extremely difficult thing to achieve - I've realized that for me it works like “is this intentionally funny or not?” “Honestly, I don't know…”; a big part of my personality is like that, and it came through in the video. A lot of my favorite performers are like that, and a good deal of my music too - not for the lyrics, but musically it's been “maybe I should do this thing? I don't know, but I'm doing it anyway…”. But again, that video was one shot, so a lot of musicians might have said it wasn't good enough and tried to create some kind of cool aura, which doesn't make sense.
Irony is a shield, a lot of the time.
Yes, humor itself is a shield, absolutely. It's about seeking some kind of protection, right?
Yes, it's a filter.
Yes, exactly.
One last question: you mentioned a lot of Seventies artists as inspiration for this record. What have you been listening to lately?
Well… the new Iggy Pop, which I think is really good - I'm a huge fan of his solo albums and I'm enjoying this one too; then, let's see [grabs his iphone]: Rolling Stones, Judee Sill, The Small Faces, Tom Waits, and just a while ago I was listening to Elton John…
Nobody under 70?
Fat White Family! Otherwise… no, mostly over 70 or dead!
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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Giuliano Delli Paoli, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.