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			An interview with 
			Nile Rodgers, before Creamfeilds 2008 
			DID you know that Nile Rodgers 
			notably produced artists including David Bowie (for Let’s Dance) and 
			Madonna (for Like A Virgin? That said, disco anthems like Le Freak, 
			Good Times and I Want Your Love under his and, late bassist, Bernard 
			Edwards’ Chic guise remain as enduring some thirty years since their 
			initial release. Their power will be further evident when Rodgers 
			brings Chic to Creamfields’ 10th Anniversary event this year! 
			 
			Why is it important for you to maintain the Chic legacy in 2008? 
			"Well, I don’t think of it quite in those terms. I think of it 
			like this: the night that my partner Bernard Edwards passed away – 
			right before we were supposed to go on stage as part of a sell-out 
			tour which also featured some of the people we’d worked with 
			including Sister Sledge, Duran Duran and Steve Winwood – he had 
			looked out at the crowd and said, “oh my god, this is no longer 
			about us – these people have come to hear the songs”. We realised 
			that very night that the songs of Chic were bigger than both of us." 
			 
			Since then I guess you’ve come to terms that the back-catalogue will 
			outlast everybody involved in their recording?  "Sure. 
			And now every time I go out, I’m committed to maintaining the 
			integrity of the records that we made. I don’t think about it before 
			and I don’t worry about it after, but when I’m on stage, it’s 
			important that I do those songs justice." 
			 
			Did you ever consider ending Chic after Bernard’s death?  
			"Without wanting to sound too corny, I feel I have a 
			responsibility to continue what we did. And, anyway – Chic was where 
			we always went to have a good time. It still is. I probably don’t 
			have to tell you this, but I really don’t ever have to work again. 
			God knows how many hit records I’ve had with different people over 
			the years but, believe me, I get plenty of royalties. But I’m still 
			not ‘a star’. Although Chic gives me the confidence to get on stage 
			and pretend that I’m a star." 
			 
			Pretend?  "Well the thing with Chic is that it was always 
			a concept right from the beginning. It was about us going wherever 
			our imagination could take us. It became this place where we would 
			go to hide from the real world. As black men in America, the real 
			world wasn’t such a great place to be. Chic enabled us to reinvent 
			ourselves. Like nowadays when people use the internet so that they 
			can take on a different online persona. Well, that’s pretty much 
			what we were doing then: we were Chic 1.0. We called it the ‘Chic 
			mystique’ and it wasn’t that we suddenly thought we were stars: we 
			knew that we were back-up musicians and, through our work, we had 
			come to see what real stars were. But we pretended to be stars 
			through Chic and suddenly it began to work for us. But again, it 
			comes down to those records we made. If I didn’t have those songs, 
			I’d be a little uncomfortable picking up my guitar next to Mick 
			Jagger or David Bowie." 
			 
			So do you think you’ll still be doing this in another thirty years? 
			"Those are my songs. That’s like asking Paul Simon will he 
			still be Paul Simon in thirty years time." 
			 
			No disrespect to Paul Simon, but you do have a lot of other things 
			going on outside music, don’t you?  "A lot of people 
			don’t understand how this happened, but back when we were recording, 
			we would work in studios that had no windows. Studios were all built 
			like that: I guess record labels wanted the artists and producers to 
			be unaware about whether it was night or day and just get on with 
			getting their record made. Anyway, we would be working in those 
			conditions and our brains would be going dead. The video game 
			arcades had just become this new craze so we would take a break from 
			recording by playing these machines. It was perfect for us to be 
			able to forget the work and just play a game for a while. It was 
			something I always did and, over time, I shifted some of my focus 
			onto video games and developed that as a business. For me, it was 
			the same as disco: it was this brave new world and nobody knew what 
			would be happening next. So one of the first things I ended up doing 
			was the music for this game Resident Evil and that turned into a 
			huge franchise. After that I did Halo. Now I’ve got like 30 or 40 of 
			these things. I’ve lost count. It’s like when we were making a lot 
			of records and Bernard and I would be saying, “What? Another one of 
			these gold discs” and just not knowing where to put them." 
			 
			So you’re enthusiastic about new technology?  "Yeah. It’s 
			great. How amazing is it for an artist to wake up every day and have 
			a fresh challenge and not know how this latest project will turn 
			out. For me – no matter what area I’m working in – it’s always been 
			about problem solving. That’s the reason I became a record producer. 
			Artistically I’m excited. Business-wise I’m excited. And then I also 
			get to play as Chic and have that real release. I have the perfect 
			life, I guess." 
			 
			What do you make of the kind of contemporary artists who don’t leave 
			the computer to make music? Those people who have never picked up a 
			traditional instrument? And those that sample?  "I love 
			where we are now. We’re in the era of what I’d describe as audio 
			collage. When my music was first sampled for Rappers Delight, I must 
			admit it felt really strange. It must be like tasting some strange 
			food for the first time. Like, an acquired taste. So I’d have been 
			like “woooah, what the f*ck is that?!” I recoiled. But I also 
			couldn’t figure out how someone had done that. Never mind how they 
			had taken my record, made it their own and had an even bigger hit 
			with it. The breakthrough for me was realising that the people 
			behind these records were artists. As soon as I got that 
			perspective, I developed a real appreciation for those artists that 
			worked in this way." 
			 
			Is there not a part of you that believes that it’s unoriginal? 
			"You’ve got to realise that those people are doing what they 
			can with what’s available to them. Now I grew up in a different era 
			when everyone was taught music at school. It was up to the 
			individual if they wanted to take that further but everyone got that 
			introduction and were able to begin with the basics. Now I speak to 
			people like Wu-Tang’s The RZA and Public Enemy’s Chuck D – those 
			guys that I’ve come to consider my friends – and they helped me 
			understand that this other generation of people, who are artists at 
			heart, haven’t had that same chance to discover music in a more 
			classically-trained environment. So the government didn’t provide 
			and so this new way of making music came along. Hip hop was born out 
			of necessity."  
			...continued... 
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			...continued... 
			Did you learn anything from the 
			way that early hip producers would isolate a couple of bars of your 
			music and subvert it for their own needs?  "While I don’t 
			chop-up music in the same way, it taught me how I had also always 
			been about the groove. I can play the same guitar line over and over 
			again for hours and really get into that groove. That’s really what 
			Chic did anyway. We were all about the repetition." 
			 
			While popular hits, your tracks weren’t ever conventional pop 
			singles, were they?  "No. But we could have kept playing 
			and playing those grooves but we were limited by the fact that there 
			was only so much music you could get on the vinyl. Live, we would 
			stretch out a track for ten minutes and comfortably know that we 
			could still do a further twenty if we wanted too. We would be 
			groovin’ and groovin’. That wasn’t new, you understand. I’d already 
			seen James Brown do that. And it would make you head straight for 
			the dancefloor. I remember the first time I heard Hendrix and he was 
			groovin’ and killin’ it too. It was primal. And at the heart of it 
			was that all important rhythm." 
			Sharing the Creamfields bill with you 
			are the kind of contemporary talents that have stripped back that 
			primal, hypnotic dynamic to the point that it’s pure groove: little 
			more than drums and bass. Does that excite you?  "Sure. 
			That’s truly primal. Isn’t that a wonderful thing? When we first got 
			our first record deal as Chic, we insisted that our bosses at the 
			label come to a club with us as we felt that they had to understand 
			what it was that was so fascinating about this music. And they were 
			like “yeah – it’s great but how is that gonna work on the radio?” So 
			we made our first single and that was Dance Dance Dance which has 
			that breakdown in it where it’s just “dance - - boom - - 
			dance–dance–dance” and they were concerned because there was this 
			part where there was no music. They were worried that people would 
			think that the radio station had gone of the air! They said “what if 
			the listener changes the station?” and Bernard and I insisted that 
			the audience would listen even harder. It was the primal response. 
			Like when James Brown goes “wait a minute” and the band stops – 
			you’re transfixed. You don’t choose that time to go to the bathroom. 
			There was this time I saw Parliament play and George Clinton turned 
			around to the band and yelled “hold on – I want it so quiet that you 
			can hear a rat piss on cotton”. The reaction was something I’d never 
			seen before. I got thinking there and then about whether you could 
			somehow capture something like that on a record." 
			 
			So where would we hear that rat pissing on cotton in Chic’s back 
			catalogue?  "Everywhere! We were all about the breakdown. 
			Le Freak – our biggest records - starts with the breakdown. It’s “1 
			– 2 – aaaaaah – freak out” with just one guitar and the bass drum 
			going boom-boom. The record company wanted us to count in the record 
			and for it to start more conventionally and we argued that the 
			breakdown was the most important part of a dance record and that 
			they should trust us. Sure, we cleared the conference room with the 
			record but it was the biggest song in the history of Warner 
			Communications: the only song to have reached number 1 on the 
			billboard chart three times after dropping and returning to the top 
			spot; something that The Beatles hadn’t achieved. And that’s a song 
			that starts with the breakdown." 
			 
			Le Freak was famously written as a response to Studio 54’s exclusive 
			door policy. Clubbing folklore states that the original lyrics were 
			actually “f*ck off”. Do you still believe that club 
			culture should be all inclusive?  "Sure. What’s the point 
			of the music if people can’t access it? If I didn’t believe in that, 
			I could just play in the privacy of my own home. Music is supposed 
			to be shared." 
			 
			So what’s it like bringing these tracks to the attention of yet 
			another new generation?  "It’s happened to us countless 
			times. I’ve had people come up to me and say “I’ve never seen anyone 
			do that?” and I’m like “what?” And they’ll reply “play the musical 
			part of a record”. We did a video shoot once and I cannot tell you 
			how many extras said “hey mister – can you really play that thing?” 
			and they’d be like “wow” when I explained that the guitar I was 
			holding was the one they could hear playing on the record in the 
			background." 
			 
			Mark Ronson was saying that it’s become a bit perverse how people 
			assume a lot of the use of ‘real instruments’ in a record must 
			incorporate samples.  "It’s really bizarre but – without 
			mentioning any names – this famous producer, who’s a friend of mine, 
			came into the studio and heard this track playing and was asking 
			“what record have you got this from?” I told him that it was me – 
			something I just wrote - and he looked dejected. The temperature in 
			the room suddenly seemed to go down twenty degrees. When he thought 
			it was a sample, he loved it. As an original piece of music, he was 
			disappointed. So I tried it with someone else - only this time I 
			told this other guy that I’d taken it from some rare Polish lounge 
			album that I’d found somewhere and he turned to his mates, clearly 
			impressed, and said “see? That’s why he is f*ckin Nile Rogers!” 
			 
			Chic featuring Nile Rodgers perform live at Creamfields 10th 
			Anniversary, August Bank Holiday weekend (23 August 2008 & 24 August 
			2008), alongside Kasabian, Fatboy Slim, Ian Brown, Paul van Dyk, 
			Tiesto and many more. Tickets on sale now, 
			
			www.ticketline.co.uk, 0844 888 
			4401 / Info: 0151 707 1309 / 
			
			www.creamfields.com. 
			Creamfeilds Ticket 
			Give-away Competition 2008! 
			THANKS to the organisers of this years 
			amazing Creamfeilds event we have 1 pair of weekend non-camping 
			tickets to give away to one of our lucky reader! To win this 
			fantastic prize all you have to do is correctly answer this weeks 
			and last weeks questions correctly and send an email with your 
			answers (in one email only) to us at Southport Reporter. But do not 
			forget to send us your full postal address and a contact number as 
			well with your answer.  
			 
			QUESTION 1. = "What is the anniversary that Creamfeilds are 
			celebrating in 2008?" (Click 
			on
			
			
			here see the issue with this 
			question in.) 
			QUESTION 2.
			= "What day is Kasabian 
			playing at the Creamfields 2008 event?"   
			(Click
			
			
			here to see last weeks issue) 
			Winners of the competition must follow 
			all the organisers of the event requests.  False information can 
			result in cancellation of your tickets!   
			
			T&C  |