Political Party

The fusion of rave, blues, country, folk and rock is a brave one and one not often attempted. In the mid- to late-'90s we had a handful of novelty-band attempts, resulting in tracks such as the painfully of-its-time Cotton-Eyed Joe and the slightly more bearable Swamp Thing by The Grid. However, only one band to have successfully managed the balance comes to mind and that band is Alabama 3.

A ropey collective of producers, DJs, clubbers, artists and free-thinking drop-ins, Alabama 3 cite that their success is partially due to their lack of structure and lack of rules. Added to that, band members have genuine talent and a passion for not only a wide range of musical styles but eclecticism itself – this is what they believe is at the heart of their longevity and continued popularity. Having formed the band with Jake Black at, allegedly, an acid-house party in suburban London in the early '90s, founding member and vocalist Rob Spragg – aka Larry Love – explains the ethos of Alabama 3. That is, when he's not distracted by the group of young dubstep musicians he's currently sharing a studio room with.

“We have always mixed blues and techno together,” Spragg explains in a broad and somewhat party-ravaged rasping London accent. “We have played at Cambridge Folk Festival and then a club night straight afterwards – we were born and bred to be eclectic. Also, really, blues is the root of all music, so there's no reason not to put it all together.”

Alabama 3 not only play the alchemist with diverse musical styles (which may or may not be related to blues music, as per Spragg's claim), but they're also not afraid of dishing up a little politics with their dance music.

The most recent Alabama 3 album, last year's Shoplifting For Jesus, is no exception, taking pot shots at government, apathy and even social media in the song Facebook.con. With the recent UK riots and the rise of the Occupy and Anonymous movements, Spragg and co. have had a cornucopia of inspiration for political and social observation. And being London lads, it has all been happening on their proverbial – and perhaps literal – doorstep.

“If you can't disturb people, there's no point to rock'n'roll,” Spragg suggests, sporting a cheeky smirk. “We recorded this album all the way through the riots in London. You know, a few people were, shall we say, 'liberating' trainers now and then, but a lot of people were just caught in the middle of the riots. We had quite a few kids coming off the streets, out of the riots, and into our studio.”

The band didn't turf the kids out – they put them straight into the studio to lay down some vocals. “We'd get them rapping sixteen bars or so, each. Anyone off the street who wanted to come in and sing on our album, we'd grab them and include what they had to say. We believe in the power of communities,” he adds passionately. “That ethic is based on our politics; we're very inclusive, and that belief in community gives us the capacity for some bloody good rock'n'roll.”

Community isn't just something that Alabama 3 support, it's who they are as a band.

“We started as a soundsystem posse twenty years ago,” Spragg recalls. “I used to do soundsystem techno DJ sets and that developed into something uniting blues and techno. I've always worked in a big posse and there can be twenty or thirty people around at any one time inputting to things. We can break ourselves down to Delta blues or build up to techno or dubstep because we have people in the Alabama 3 community who can play that.”

Given the seemingly shambolic and evolving nature of Alabama 3, it seems almost miraculous that they're still together.

“We stay together because no one else will employ us and I ain't digging no ditches,” Spragg laughs. “Alabama 3 members come and go. To quote a famous song, you can check out of Alabama 3 any time you like, but you can never leave. There's a revolving door policy with the band and we encourage a wide variety of 'extracurricular pursuits'.”

Those extracurricular pursuits guarantee that any Alabama 3 recording session never falls short of skills and talent, even if it also injects a little schizophrenia to their musical identity.

“We're kind of… amusing ourselves in the songwriting process. What you might ultimately hear on our records is, say, a dubstep track. At the start it might have been a ballad and vice versa. We try to surround ourselves with bright young gunslingers – we help them, developing their sound, but it also suits our own agendas.”

Spragg's own input to the songwriting process often seems to involve extreme sleeplessness. “I'll be up for three days at a time, and come up with daft lyrics.” 

Recently, they've been busy preparing for their Australian tour and playing benefit shows for the Occupy Movement. “I did a DJ slot at St Paul's and we're very much at home in that kind of environment. Wherever there's resistance, Alabama 3 want to hang.” When it is gently pointed out to him that there isn't a massive resistance movement in Australia, he reveals that he has already reached into the heart of Australian rebel culture. “Last time we were in Australia, we were hanging out with Chopper Read. He's a good friend of Alabama 3's. Australia, God bless it, the land of sunshine… but you have issues that need to be addressed, politically.”

Read is by no means the first countercultural anti-hero they've been acquainted with: Nick Reynolds, a member of Alabama 3, is the son of one of those responsible for the Great Train Robbery. That familiarity with the slightly 'below-board' may have contributed to their confidence when tracking down Chopper Read and asking to take a plaster cast mask for his own future death mask. “We hunted down Chopper, because we wanted to meet him and take a mould of his face. But he was really good, really obliging and nice. I was proud to meet him.”