Punk doctors, pop cures

Friendly Fires drummer Jack Savidge was feeling, as he puts it, “really awful, really ill.” But the band was up for a Barclaycard Mercury Prize—a very prestigious award given out to the most outstanding British music act each year; in the past, the award has gone to music greats such as Portishead, Pulp and P.J. Harvey—and the ceremony was that week. He had to attend.

Even being nominated is a big deal. Radiohead, arguably the United Kingdom’s favorite band, has been nominated three times but has yet to receive the prize.

“We were working in the studio with Paul [Epworth] a couple of days before [the ceremony], and … I couldn’t walk on my left leg for some reason,” remembers Savidge, who took a break from recording to recount the ordeal. Incidentally, four albums produced by Epworth have received Mercury Prize nominations. Friendly Fires self-titled debut album, released on XL Recordings in September 2008, was one of those. All the stars had aligned.

But, Savidge says, he still couldn’t walk. And the morning of the ceremony, he woke up to something he’d never expected to see.

“[T]here was this kind of purple rash thing that sort of appeared on my leg, which was kind of a bit disgusting,” he says. “My girlfriend was really alarmed and was like, ‘Yeah, you have to go to the hospital,’ and I was like, ‘It’s fine. It’s just a purple rash. It will go away.’”

Despite this reluctance, Savidge eventually went to the doctor. And the doc immediately sent him to the hospital, where they explained that he had a blood infection. And they told him not to attend the Mercury awards.

But, as it turned out, one of his doctors was a Friendly Fires fan and told him if he needed to go, he could just check himself out.

“I thought that was kind of punk rock of me, to tell the [other] doctors where to stick it,” Savidge says.

Unfortunately for the band, that night’s prize went to British rapper Speech Debelle’s album Speech Therapy. “I went to the ceremony and I felt terrible, and I couldn’t drink, and we didn’t win,” Savidge jokes.

But all’s well: Friendly Fires is in the business of making singles, not winning awards. Some musicians might find this shameful—never crafting a proper first-song-to-last album—but they don’t even deny their disinterest in long-form pop. Hell, they rarely even put out full-length albums—and even when they finally do, each track becomes some kind of indie-club sensation.

Songs like “Jump in the Pool” and “Paris” lit up Europe with disco-style, bass-line-ridden dance rock in the vein of the Rapture. Their live show is even more impressive. Their singer has become well-known for his onstage gyrations; their earworm choruses hook you in and have you humming their hypnotic melodies for days.

Savidge, Edd Gibson and Ed Macfarlane met as young lads of 14 years, initially forming a hardcore band called First Day Back—a name they now don’t look back on fondly. After graduating college, the group reformed with a new sound and different influences. They drew their new name, Friendly Fires, from the opening track of Section 25’s album Always Now.

It hasn’t taken the trio from the town of U.K.’s St. Albans long to grab the right attention. Only three months after adopting the name Friendly Fires, the band hooked up with now legendary indie-pop producer Epworth.

“We recorded like five times, and four out of the five times we have been able to do something really good with him,” Savidge explains. Epworth’s credits extend from hit makers Bloc Party, alt-rockers Primal Scream, and singer-songwriter Kate Nash.

“He is aware of how to make a pop song. He is aware of making a really good recording,” Savidge adds.

Kurt Cobain once said, “By definition, pop is extremely catchy. Whether you like it or not.” Friendly Fires perfectly blend the already-established stack of pop-laden dance music out there with something many other bands don’t have: spirit. They are the Sex Pistols. They are the Damned. They understand punk without having to play, well, punk.