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The Amsterdams

 
 
 
 
 
 

I’m probably the worst person in the world to send out to do an interview. I ask questions in Romanian, write the answers down in a strange and incomprehensible mixture of English and Romanian, write the finished piece in English and then have the piece translated back into Romanian. By the end of this convoluted process, which is closer to ‘telephonul fara fir’ than professional journalism, there’s a 80% chance that the interviewee doesn’t recognise a single thing they’re purported to have said, and has to call up the editor the next day to complain. And so, I must begin with my interview with an apology. I apologise if the following discussion fails entirely to resemble the one that actually took place. In fact, it’s best if you take the following article as a work of fiction that only took place in the maps of my mind…
So. Important things to know about The Amsterdams: 1) Only one of them has ever been to Amsterdam; 2) as I write, they’ve only performed three times with their current line-up, and yet, despite this worrying lack of practice, 3) they manage to sound like just about every current indie band that you’ve ever heard of with the word ‘The’ in the title. Plus a few that don’t.
It was during their second ever concert that I managed to catch them live, and was struck by just how together they are as a band. The first track they play sounded exactly like the US miserablists Interpol, the second sounded like The Zutons, the third sounded like The Rapture, and so on. Not only have they got all the right reference points for a band trying to make it, they also do a damn fine job at sounding like a full, tight, polished act. Their competence in playing live might come from the fact that two of the group used to play together in a previous incarnation of The Amsterdam, which split up last year. Or it might come from their rigorous selection procedure. “We auditioned twelve drummers before we settled on our current member,” lead singer Andrei explains to me. Well, I suppose there’s no harm in being picky.
They also have the advantage of a lead singer who looks extremely comfortable on stage, quite happy to pull the odd theatrical pose and generally act the front-man. I ask Andrei about the other frontmen that he considers influences, but the rest of the band answer for him: “Jarvis!” they shout out, laughing. Andrei shrugs. “Yeah, Jarvis, I suppose, but there’s lots of others – Casablancas from the Strokes, Flowers from the Killers…” The Jarvis comparisons aren’t far wrong. Perhaps it’s the thick-rimmed glasses; perhaps the penchant for co-ordinated brown outfits; perhaps it’s the on-stage gestures. But there’s also a healthy dose of Morrissey there. “You think so?” Andrei replies, adjusting his tie. “I’ve never been a fan of The Smiths.”
The group’s bassist, another Andrei, however, is. It doesn’t come as a surprise – Andrei manages to look like he’s been plucked from Manchester at some point between 1988 and 1992 and transplanted in Bucharest. When he finds out that I’m from not too far from Manchester he begins spouting a list of groups: The Stone Roses, The Happy Mondays, Joy Division… “Did you ever catch the Hacienda?” he asks, speaking about the legendary Manchester club depicted in the film 24 Hour Party People. I decide it’s time to tell my story about “the time I met Ian Brown from the Stone Roses, who used to, coincidentally, visit a pub in the small town I’m from.” It’s a story so boring that everyone I’ve ever told it to refused to speak to me ever again. Andrei, however, might just have been the first person ever to find it vaguely interesting.
When they perform live, guitarist Andrei is without a doubt the coolest member of the group. I don’t use the word in its modern sense, which basically has become shorthand for ‘wears expensive limited edition trainers’. No, Sir. I use the word in its traditional sense, meaning ‘never smiles’. I’ve never seen a cooler guitarist in my life. Andrei manages to perform a one-hour set without breaking into a smile once. I’m not even sure he blinks. Or breathes. And what’s more, he manages to do all this without looking uncomfortable – just damn cool, mixing the sulk of Ian Brown with the hair of that singer from Cast.
Patronising teacherly bit: the word “Indie” comes from the word Independent – the early indie bands grew up on the independent labels that the Punk scene gave birth to. If this is your definition of Indie, then The Amsterdams are just about as indie as you can get. They don’t have a record deal; they don’t have a manger; they don’t have anyone producing them. Despite this, they’ve managed to record their first song, entitled “Taking Care of Ana,” a spectacularly fun romp though a musical world littered with archetypal English references. Paid out of their own pocket and sent out to people at the radio, they’ve already managed to get airplay on a number of stations. It’s as though they’re looking to take the Arctic Monkeys’ road to stardom, building up a real following without the interference of music industry intermediaries.
“That’d be the idea,” Augustin (bassist) explains. “I’m not even sure if we’d want to be signed by a Romanian label. I’m not expecting British labels to come after us, but who knows, maybe someone from Croatia, Czechoslovakia… In Romania, it’s not that it’s difficult to make money in the music industry. It’s difficult to make music in the Romanian music industry.” I decide that this sounds rather profound and start to write it down. Augustin, if the words in the magazine doesn’t resemble the words you told me, I can only sincerely apologise for garbling your ideas.
Last question: why ‘The Amsterdams’? “The London Boys was already taken, and The Rotterdams sounded stupid,” laughs Augustin, having me reaching for my notepad for the second time in ten seconds.
With indie becoming the sound of modern pop, the kind of thing that even your granny could tap her foot along to, The Amsterdams look perfectly placed to become a genuinely successful act. And heaven knows, Romania has waited for long enough for a decent indie band. As we say out goodbyes, I smugly congratulate myself for being the first person to do a proper interview with the band. However, take it from me, this wont be the last time you see them between the pages of a magazine. Just about all of the other people in Bucharest with claim to the title ‘Music Journalist’ (erm, that’s about four people, then) all seem to be clamouring to get hold of them for interviews. I wish my fellow journalists luck, and can only trust that their efforts will be a little more fidel than mine.