‘I’m not a fan of very emotional singing. It’s more interesting to have a robot sing a heartfelt melody’

Usually found hiding behind a pair of dark glasses, Doviak is the mysterious and ice-cool multi-instrumentalist and producer who is best known for his work with Johnny Marr – he plays guitar and keys in Marr’s band and has co-produced the former Smiths guitarist’s four solo albums: The Messenger, Playland, Call The Comet and Fever Dream Pts 1-4.

In the past few years, Doviak, who is based in Manchester, has been releasing his atmospheric and often cinematic, electronic-heavy solo songs on digital platforms, as individual tracks or EPs. His music is inspired by ’80s synth-pop, electro, Cold War espionage – on his social media profile he calls himself cyberspace’s foremost purveyor of ‘Spywave’ – European travel, John Barry and gothic rock.

Say It With Garage Flowers had a clandestine meeting with him to discuss his solo work, his thoughts on new tech such as AI and immersive audio, working with Marr and why decentralised collaborations might be the way forward.

This interview will self-destruct in 10 seconds…

Q&A

Let’s talk about your most recent solo release –  The Vanguard EP.  It doesn’t sound as spywave as some of your previous material… 

Doviak: In my head it is, but in reality it’s not.

One of the tracks, Turn It Over, has a pulsing, ’80s electronic feel – it’s like Howard Jones… 

Doviak: Yeah – there’s all sorts of stuff referenced. Sometimes I’ll be playing around with a riff and it happens to be electronic and I’ll just go with that. I might try and make it something that you might even hear on the radio…

With a pop sensibility….

Doviak: That’s the idea. It’s fun doing all these mysterious tracks, but if nobody listens to them, it’s a bit demoralising. That’s not to say I’m doing things just to get radio play, because that doesn’t really work either. I like pop. To me, Turn It Over is trying to be an intellectual version of a really crass pop track. All of the lyrics in 90 percent of pop stuff are silly that’s what they’re meant to be and that’s why they sell, but if you like lyrics, they’re not very engaging. I like the idea of having that production but with something more quirky.

‘Turn It Over is trying to be an intellectual version of a really crass pop track. All of the lyrics in 90 percent of pop stuff are silly’

 

The Courtyard, which is on the EP, is darker and a much more cinematic track…

Doviak: It’s an electro-goth thing.

It reminds me of Depeche Mode…

Doviak: That comparison comes up a lot – people always say it. The funny thing about that is I never listen to Depeche Mode – I hardly know any of their stuff, but that’s what it’s supposed to be like – dark, low vocals, and moody with goth reverb.

There’s a song on the EP called Price of a Soul – I’m surprised Depeche Mode haven’t written a song called that…

Doviak: Yeah – trying to find any title that some fucker hasn’t used is almost impossible.

Wait For The World is an anthemic ballad – it has synths on it, but is more guitary and less electronic than some of your other songs…

Doviak: That’s right – the song dictated it. With some songs, there is a core tune – with melody, lyrics and chords – that you could play on an acoustic guitar, and it works in its own right, but with others, the production is so integral that it wouldn’t be much good on one. With Wait For The World I thought it was better to follow slightly more traditional instrumentation than a heavily electronic one – it just seemed to work better that way. It’s a really old song – about 10 years old. I just had to get it out eventually.

Would you say the EP is themed?

Doviak: Only because it’s electronic, but, also, because, in my head, the lyrics are about people’s relationship with the internet, social media and new tech. It’s this thing that’s been foisted upon us  – this revolution – and we’re learning how to navigate this world.

Are you a fan of AI in music?

Doviak: I’m not a fan of it but I recognise the fact that it’s not going to go away and its presence is only ever going to increase. It’s like better than the devil you know…

That’s a Kylie song…

Doviak: (laughs) Exactly – that’s a good reference… If AI is a tool that you can leverage to improve what you’re doing and make it more interesting then why not? I don’t think you should get rid of the human element, but some aspects of it will disappear. There will always be people who want that human element – I think that’s fundamentally why people like music. Anthropologists argue that singing is like bird song – it’s a way to show your sexual proclivity.

 ‘I’m not a fan of AI but I recognise the fact that it’s not going to go away and its presence is only ever going to increase’

Maybe singing evolved before language, but I’m not saying that’s the case… There’s an emotional element that connects with you for some reason – some people like certain genres – but some of it is more instinctive. That will always be there, but some people don’t really care about music – it’s just a thing in the background. They’re not going to care if it’s AI music playing in a coffee shop, but there are a hardcore group who will and they like real people… Some elements of pop aren’t just about the music you’re buying into the personality and the imagery as well…

I have no problem if you run an AI music program and you get an idea from it. If the whole thing sounds great and you want to put it out, whatever, but I think it will be a long time before that happens frequently.

What are your views on Dolby Atmos and immersive audio? Some producers see it as a gimmick – do the possibilities interest you?

Doviak: It is gimmicky but, again, it’s another thing that will be around… I don’t know if you know this, but Apple Music prioritise your stuff in their store if you have Dolby Atmos mixes…

Because they want to sell headphones…

Doviak: Yeah. It not’s a bad thing, but I don’t think it’s particularly necessary.  Look at how must people consume music – 70 percent of it is through a tiny, tinny speaker on their phone. Some people have amazing systems to sit and listen to, which is great, but that’s the minority…
I’m not against it, but it’s time, and how much time do you want to dedicate to learning how to mix in Atmos? If someone wants to mix it for me, great… I might look into it at some point, but it’s not a priority. I’m not against it.

You worked on a recent track called Ghost In The Room with a group called Moontalkers. How did that come about?

Doviak: It was straightforward – they just got in touch out of the blue and asked if I’d be interested. It seemed like fun and it was great to just do vocals on something rather than having to produce all the music too. Plus it’s interesting and fun to be working with younger musicians.

Your song Venus Eye Honeytrap was inspired by the story of Mata Hari, wasn’t it?

Doviak: Yes – that’s right, but the lyrics have their own subtext. I think she was accused of being a spy, but I don’t think she was probably. The song was actually more inspired by noodling around, but the overall aesthetic of it is just a distillation of the things I like – The Horrors and any slightly dark, gothic band, but I don’t like to stray into true gothic territory – it has more of a rock element.

It sounds like Gary Numan doing a theme song for a spy film…

Doviak: I think that’s a good description.

Your singing voice reminds me of Numan at times…

Doviak: On certain songs, it’s a deliberate choice to get more robotic than soulful. If I get the melody right and I have a very emotive piece of music with a tune that’s quite sweet, I want to upset that with something that’s a bit colder and dispassionate – to me it’s the right side of melodrama, because I’m not a big fan of very emotional and heartfelt singing generally. Sometimes it’s amazing, but it can get on your nerves a little bit… it just isn’t my thing. For me, it’s more interesting to have a robot sing a heartfelt melody.

Which is essentially what Kraftwerk did…

Doviak: Sure.

‘If I get the melody right and I have a very emotive piece of music with a tune that’s quite sweet, I want to upset that with something that’s a bit colder and dispassionate’

Alicia Vigil of L.A. rock band Vigil of War guests on Venus Eye Honeytrap. How did that come about?

Doviak: She’s a friend of a friend, who I worked with. I was in town, and we did some writing – we kicked around some ideas. Whether anything will see the light of day, I’ve no idea, but it was fun. I don’t do much writing [with other people] outside of my work with Johnny. I’ve done production and mixing, but not a great deal of writing.

Would you like to do more?

Doviak: Yes – that’s what I enjoy the most. The production and the writing are kind of tied together to some degree… I like it a lot more than mixing and engineering, which I don’t really enjoy. They all have positives and negatives, but the thing I really like is writing – it excites me the most by far.

There is an underlying Cold War theme to a lot of your solo music and it’s very cinematic. Have you written soundtracks? I know you’ve been involved with music for adverts…

Doviak:  Yeah – I have done, but not for a while. I’ve been too busy – there was a point where I was doing The Messenger album with Johnny and touring… We had a lot of production stuff to work out, because it was the first time we’d really gone out, and I was doing a lot of work for TV adverts. It started to take off, but I had to make a choice, so I did the live thing because it was more fun, and I got to see the world, play gigs and work with Johnny, which was great. I tried to do both for a little bit, but it wasn’t really happening – something was going to suffer…

Would you like to do film soundtracks? Some of the tracks you’ve done with Johnny, like Walk Into The Sea and Rubicon, are more like soundscapes than traditional rock or pop songs, aren’t they?

Doviak: Absolutely – that’s right. I like to have some sort of balance – if I was going to see a gig, what songs would I want it to contain? It’s nice to have a general thread of something running through it. Sometimes you want to hear a couple of up-tempo, catchy, straightforward songs with choruses, but then you might want a lull with some emotive stuff. Not everyone wants that – a lot of the audiences respond better to the up-tempo, catchy singles and they jump around and sing the lyrics – but I think they’re also impressed by the soundtracky stuff, and the people that like it really like it.

Where does your love of the Cold War come from?

Doviak: Probably from watching films. It’s not something I’ve always been into. I had a whole bunch of songs kicking around for many years, but with no real defining element to them, but at some point I thought it would be fun to do something John Barryesque – I’d liked Portishead and the idea of doing melodramatic orchestration. There are particular harmonies that are unique to that genre – there’s an element of melancholy. It’s not so much sadness, but more of a bleak melancholy…

Like Barry’s soundtrack to The Ipcress File

Doviak: Exactly.

Johnny and the band used to walk on stage to the theme from The Persuaders

Doviak: We did actually – that’s right. It’s a good piece of music.

Did you write your Enemy Numbers EP while you were travelling around Europe?

Doviak: Exactly – the impetus came from different places, and I liked the idea… If I’d had the budget, I could have done themed videos for the cities they were related to – Berlin, Paris, Hamburg, Prague… I had some brief ideas while I was on the road, but I didn’t have the time to expand on them until I got home. The emotion still remains – a set of chords and a simple melody, but that’s enough and it’s something to build on. If it’s the right thing, it sparks my imagination, and I can go back and build on it with that in mind. I’m lucky to be able to travel, and it’s a great way of doing it.

I see so many cities and I got to thinking what would it be like if you were a guy listening to a shortwave radio by yourself, in a room at night, with a different identity – it could be a strange, lonely experience. That’s why there’s a sadness to the music – slightly bleak and melancholy, but without being overly melodramatic.

Did you write Century in Montmartre, Paris?

Doviak: Yes – the chords and the basic tune. The idea is that there’s some guy in a room by himself, feeling melancholy and looking over the rooftops of Paris. It’s particularly scenic round there.

Do you have a home studio?

Doviak: Yes – it’s basic, but it’s enough for me to do what I need to do.

So, you record all your solo stuff there?

Doviak: Yeah, but Jack [Mitchell – Johnny Marr’s drummer] played on a couple of the early songs, Solid State Machines and Enemy Numbers, so we recorded his drums elsewhere. I’d do that again, but it hasn’t been convenient and for some of the recent songs it hasn’t really been necessary.

Do you have a big collection of vintage gear, like old synths?

Doviak: Not as big as I’d like – one of the reasons is because I have to travel so much and the other is because software is getting so good. Some of it sounds as good as the real thing – certainly by the time you’ve done various things to it production-wise and put it in the mix. We have a whole bunch of stuff in Johnny’s studio – a Juno, a Moog, a Yamaha SS30…

Johnny explored electronic music with Bernard Sumner in Electronic and then when he had his band The Healers he went back to more traditional rock, blues and psychedelic stuff. Do you think working with you on his solo records has made him experiment with more electronic sounds again?

Doviak: With the more electronic tracks like Spirit, Power and Soul, and Armatopia, that’s what he wanted to do – he already had those ideas. There may be one or two songs where I’ve said, ‘You could put a dirty Juno bass on there…’ or something. I can’t remember – he remembers that stuff brilliantly.

You’ve been putting out your solo songs and EPs digitally. Any plans to make an album one day?

Doviak: Yes – it’s a nice way of tying tracks together thematically and having them all released at the same time. From a more cynical point of view, it’s also better for marketing, or so I’m told – it’s easier to get more people on your side, like the press, if you’ve got a product out. I’d like to do it but my time’s limited…

Apart from during Covid, you’ve been so busy with Johnny’s albums and touring…

I know… and during Covid we were writing the last album, which has 16 tracks on it. We wrote about 20. In an ideal world, I’d have a situation where I could bang each of my tracks down in six months to a year and do an album. I think it’s more consistent that way.

What’s the process like when you and Johnny work on tracks together? Does he give you demos or do you both come up with ideas in the studio and layer stuff up?

Doviak: It’s kind of a mixture – we might have ideas for a song and once we start working on it, it can take twists and turns and end up nothing like the original – in my mind, the music is 75 percent Johnny, something like that… I tend to do more of the drums, the bass and keyboard stuff.

‘What if you were a guy listening to a shortwave radio by yourself, in a room at night, with a different identity – it could be a strange, lonely experience. That’s why there’s a sadness to the music’

Have you got a lot of unreleased solo stuff?

Doviak: Yes, I have. I’ve always written and recorded, and it’s 80 percent ready to go. That final 20 percent is a killer sometimes – you have to mix it and master it, and that takes a lot of time. It’s very beneficial to have another pair of ears on it. When you’re doing everything yourself, you’re very close to the song and you can’t see the wood for the trees. That’s where collaboration comes in handy. If you’re in a band, you kick ideas around in a rehearsal room… The one thing I don’t like about writing by myself is that it’s quite isolating and boring – I like being with other people, talking and having a laugh while I’m working.

I really like your song Don’t Follow – it has ‘80s synths on it and electronic drums. It reminds me of Duran Duran when they did The Chauffeur, as well as Howard Jones and Ryuichi Sakamoto…

Doviak: That one’s had a good response – mainly because I think it’s more of an identifiable genre.

It could’ve come off the soundtrack to Drive

Doviak: Exactly.

One of my favourite songs of yours is Russian Dolls – it’s very dramatic. Do you remember a ‘90s band called Rialto, who were influenced by John Barry and Ennio Morricone? It reminds me of them… 

Doviak: I remember the name…  I’d had the song knocking around for ages – the idea and a piano riff. It got tweaked over time – I struggled with the chorus – but it’s very John Barry / Ipcress File. It’s spywave, with almost Persuaders-like guitars.

Where did you grow up?

Doviak: In Cambridge.

There’s a spy connection there right away…

Doviak: Exactly.

Were you always in bands when you were young and how did you end up working with Johnny Marr?

Doviak: I was always in bands until I moved to Manchester, but I had a lot of friends in music, and I was involved with it. It’s a long story – I had a friend in a band in Manchester called Alpinestars, who said: ‘We’re going on tour – why don’t you come along just for a laugh?’ I worked as a guitar tech, which I’d never done. One of the guys in the band knew Johnny vaguely and we got in contact, met up and played some guitar – it went from there.

So, what are your plans for the rest of the year?

Doviak: I like the idea of working out a way of doing decentralised collaborations. I don’t even know what means yet, but it sounds good, and if you say the word ‘blockchain’ with it, people will probably think it’s interesting.  It’s if you have an idea and you put it out there online in some format – you could choose people to work with, or maybe anybody could do it and develop it in their own way.

And you’ll be doing another record with Johnny?

Doviak: Probably soon – he’s been crazy busy. It’s been nuts.

Follow Doviak on Instagram, X and YouTube.

For Johnny Marr tour dates and info, visit:  https://johnnymarr.com/

 

‘I wanted to be out there in the city again…’

Louis Eliot

’90s cinematic guitar pop band Rialto are back after calling it a day more than 20 years ago.

The group, who emerged from the ashes of glam rockers, Kinky Machine, scored three Top 40 hits between 1997 and 1998 – the dramatic and paranoia-fuelled epic, Monday Morning 5.19, Untouchable and Dream Another Dream.

Late last year, Rialto, fronted by singer-songwriter, Louis Eliot, who has often been drawn to writing about the darker side of life and the seedy glamour of night-time London, played a comeback show at the Shiiine On Weekender indie festival in Minehead, and this month they’re appearing at The Lexington, London (January 26).

Say It With Garage Flowers met Eliot, who after Rialto split in 2002 went solo and then launched a Cornwall-based folk outfit called Louis Eliot & The Embers, in an East London pub – it was a Wednesday night 16:10 – to talk about the return of Rialto, the possibilities of a new album and vinyl reissues from the band, and why, after a health scare, he’s decided to swap rural life in Cornwall for a return to the UK’s capital city.

“I was chasing wildly after my youth, so I had a bit of a life change – I ended up living back in London,” he tells us. “It’s a cliché, but life isn’t a rehearsal – this is the moment and you’ve got to grab it.”

Q&A 

So, how does it feel to be back in Rialto and playing again?

Louis Eliot: The response has been amazing.

How was the comeback show?

LE: It couldn’t have gone better – in rehearsals I felt we were good… I didn’t want to go up and do something shoddy – it felt really good and a lot of people were singing along. It was just as you’d hope it might be – it was good fun and the crowd were very friendly.

Maybe we should’ve done one warm-up gig, but just one warm-up gig isn’t going to make you sound like you’ve done 50 gigs… We rehearsed a healthy amount.

Did you enjoy playing the old songs again?

LE: I really did. It’s been nice playing them and thinking that they still stand up.

Did it bring back memories of having written some of them?

LE: I think it did… I can remember writing some of the songs, like Summer’s Over and London Crawling.

I wrote London Crawling when the record company got me a cottage in Wales – it was the only way I could focus on writing. This was pre-mobile – I’d have no telephone and just a pen and paper. In London, I’d have little ideas – I’d make notes and come up with titles.

 

Can you remember writing Monday Morning 5:19, which is, arguably, your most well-known song?

LE: Yeah – I was stuck for an idea for a song. My girlfriend at the time said: ‘Why don’t you write a song about an answering machine?’ It seems funny now, as they’re obsolete…

Was the song based on real-life, or did you exaggerate the themes?

LE: A bit of both. A lot of the time with songs they’re based on some truths, but you’ve got to turn them into stories.

So, what prompted the reunion? Did you get a great offer from the organisers of the Shiiine On Weekender?

LE: It was an offer we couldn’t refuse, but we did refuse a few times… There have been one or two promoters who have been in touch over the past few years, asking if we’d be interested in doing it.

A lot of your ‘90s contemporaries had already reformed, including Sleeper and The Boo Radleys, but you resisted the urge to do it sooner?

LE: I think so – it’s taken a while to reassess what we did. You’ve got to feel like your heart’s in it.

So, why now?

LE: It just felt like it might be fun and there was interest, and then I started writing some songs as well.

You played two new songs at the comeback show –  Put You On Hold and No One Leaves This Discotheque Alive. Did you purposely write some new songs for the reunion?

LE: No – I was just writing… I didn’t set out to write Rialto songs, but I thought the songs weren’t Louis Eliot & The Embers songs or a solo thing. I felt like I was picking up on themes I’d explored in Rialto and musically I was approaching things in the same way I had in Rialto.

That’s interesting. With your solo material and the songs you did with The Embers, you wrote a lot of folky, pastoral songs about country life – you were living in Cornwall at the time – and the subjects you covered in your music moved away from the themes of Rialto songs, like the seedy glamour of nocturnal London, drugs and stalkers… You’ve now moved back to London, so is that why your new music has changed and you’ve gone back to the themes and sounds you explored in Rialto?

LE: I think so – all that stuff I was doing in Cornwall was a reflection of the life I was living. I had kids and it was rural.

‘I got very ill – it was a close call. I was lying in a hospital in Spain and thinking ‘if I get through this’ – I wasn’t sure I was going to survive – ‘I’m going to have a different life’

When I was a kid, I liked the way The Clash used to mythologise their environment – I think I was doing that a little bit with The Embers. The physical space you’re in can be quite important to your songwriting.

I got very ill – it was a close call, but I’m fine now. I was lying in a hospital in Spain and thinking ‘if I get through this’ – I wasn’t sure I was going to survive – ‘I’m going to have a different life’. I was chasing wildly after my youth, so I had a bit of a life change – I ended up living back in London.

I think that perhaps the song title, No One Leaves This Discotheque Alive, sums up some of the things I was thinking. Part of it was that I wanted to be out there amongst it again, in the city.

‘I was chasing wildly after my youth, so I had a bit of a life change – I ended up living back in London’

It’s a cliché, but life isn’t a rehearsal – this is the moment and you’ve got to grab it. That song also reflects on going out at night and looking to be fulfilled in various ways – going home with somebody or getting high, or whatever it is.

So, you’ve written more new songs too…Would you like to make another Rialto album?

LE: I don’t see why not – the new songs went down really well at the show. They reflect on the night-time city stuff.

That’s what always attracted me to Rialto – the nocturnal imagery in your lyrics and the cinematic sound that was inspired by film composers like John Barry and Ennio Morricone. You wrote about the seedy underbelly of London and the darker side of life. Take When We’re Together, for example – not many people write songs about stalkers these days…

LE: (Laughs): No and they certainly wouldn’t be putting themselves in the role of the stalker, like I did in that song.

You like to write about the darker side of life in the city…

LE: I’m drawn to it.

You’ve gone from the embers of the bonfire back to the sodium glow…

LE: Yeah – exactly. As I was writing the new songs and I thought ‘this is a Rialto record’, I started to do some recording, but I wasn’t working them up with a band – I was doing them at home with a tiny keyboard and a laptop, which had a parallel with the Rialto stuff.

Kinky Machine and The Embers, in their different ways, were both live bands – I’d write the songs, take them to the band and we’d arrange them, whereas Rialto and the new stuff was done in a studio way, but it was very simple.

Rialto

When we started Rialto, we were given a bit of recording equipment – it was basic by today’s standards… I think it was an 8-track and we had a little reel-to-reel in Jonny’s [Bull – guitarist] flat, a sampler, a bass and a guitar…

‘The new stuff doesn’t sound like Rialto-by-numbers, but it has elements that you’ll recognise, as well as some other influences that I didn’t tap into at the time, like disco’

In Kinky Machine, we felt we were shackled by a creative straitjacket, so, [with Rialto] we allowed ourselves to get a bit broader with the production and we could tap into those things you’ve mentioned, like Barry and Morricone.

The new stuff doesn’t sound like Rialto-by-numbers, but it has elements that you’ll recognise, as well as some other influences that I didn’t tap into at the time, like disco.

Rialto went more electronic and ’80s pop on the second album, Night On Earth

LE: Yeah – that’s true.

‘We had a lot of luck and a bit of bad luck… Looking back at it, it’s like a comedy’

Didn’t you support Duran Duran?

LE: Yeah – we did a whole UK arena tour with them. We got to hang out with them a fair bit – it was funny. Simon Le Bon was really likeable – he was a loveable buffoon – and I liked his enthusiasm for what he was doing. He was loving his life.

Did they let you go on their yacht?

LE: They didn’t bring the yacht…

Rialto had a lot of record label troubles – you were dropped by East West before your debut album came out – which didn’t help your career. Would you have liked to have been more successful?

LE: Probably, but I didn’t dwell on it for too long. I wasn’t going to allow myself to get bitter about it. We had a lot of luck and a bit of bad luck… Looking back at it, it’s like a comedy.

Have you ever thought about writing a book?

LE: It’s been suggested a couple of times.

Why did Rialto split up?

LE: It petered out  – I went to America and did some demos, and Jonny was doing something else…

The two Rialto albums – the self-titled debut and the follow-up, Night On Earth, haven’t been reissued. Wouldn’t it be nice to have them out on vinyl? Were they available on vinyl when they were released?

LE: There was a small vinyl run of the first album. I’d like to have them reissued on vinyl – I’ve had a couple of people approach me about that.

It’s great to have Rialto back and I’m looking forward to seeing you play live again. Is it OK to play a song about being a stalker in 2024?

LE: Let’s give it a go.

Rialto play The Lexington on January 26: the gig is sold out. You can join the ticket waiting list here.

For more information on Rialto, visit their website or check out their Instagram account

The band’s self-titled debut album is on Spotify: