Erica Goodey
Meet: The Metros
We talk bad behaviour, Baxter Dury and balderdash with the south London “fun punks”, backstage at the Sony Magazine fashion shoot
Our arrival at The Metros’ fashion shoot finds the boys – Peckham born and bred – striking super-cool poses for the photographer when she asks and giving each other the odd dead leg when she’s not looking.
“They’ve been really well behaved today,” their manager tells me as he watches the shoot. “For them…”
He can’t be a day over 25, but already he has the weary air of a schoolmaster who’s just got back from a class trip to the van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam that somehow ended up in the red light district.
A bit naughty…
Indeed, the boys – who at the age of 19 are still that – have a bit of a reputation for being naughty. They’ve been banned from the Holiday Inn hotel chain after causing a riot in their boxer shorts, and were thrown off a tour with The Coral for reasons that they refuse to disclose.
But you too would probably be a bit naughty, if you were in a group of male teenagers who’d just been handed a recording contract, an international touring schedule and a life of partying that puts the characters of Skins to shame.
Back at base, it takes a good five minutes of sitting down with The Metros to realise that with them, fact and reality are going to be distinctly blurred. In fact, Saul, the front man who already has the beginnings of a well-worn rock’n’roll face, is going to do his level best to extract the proverbial urine.
David Beckham mullets
“So,” I ask, “have you done many fashion shoots before?”
“Yeah,” says Saul straight away. “Paul Smith in GQ.”
I raise an eyebrow, impressed.
“And we did some foreign ones…Vogue was one. With that famous guy – what’s he called? David Bailey, yeah, David Bailey. And David Beckham’s hairdresser did our hair and gave us all mullets.”
My eyebrows are hitting the ceiling at this information. This wasn’t in my research…oh, wait a minute…
Straight outta… school
Cheeky chappies they may be but The Metros deserve respect. They’ve known each other since childhood and were signed to 1965 Records before they’d even had a chance to ditch their school uniforms.
“The day we went on our very first tour was the same day I left school,” says Freddi. “I walked out of the school gates and got straight on the tour bus. That was really nice.”
As nice as it must be to have Baxter Dury, son of Ian, produce your first album.
“Baxter’s given our music more of a dirty-retro feeling,” says Charlie. “He’s made sure it doesn’t sound too polished.”
“He was also passionate about it in a way that nobody else could have been,” cuts in Jak. “He knew us before we made the album, so he really wanted to make it sound the best, more than any other producer would do.”
“Fun punk” and the golden era
So The Metros have Ian Dury’s son producing their album and Jak’s dad was rumoured to have played with Squeeze (“That’s not true, man!” says Jak. “I think he may have met them once in a car park or something, but that’s as far as that one goes.”). Either way, there’s a distinctly 1970s influence in the music.
“The golden era was 1977–1982,” says Charlie. “That whole five years changed English culture so much. If it weren’t for punk and everything, we’d be living in a different country.”
Indeed, The Metros’ music – a sound that they like to describe as ‘fun punk’– is full of heavy riffs and punchy vocals that come straight from the streets of Sarf London. They’re big on the under-age music circuit but already they're packing out pub gigs and playing all the festivals.
The big time beckons?
So is it the big time for them?
Joe nods. “Hopefully, man.”
Saul is quick off the mark: “I don’t know. I’ve got high aspirations. I’d like to be a bin man. Or a grave digger.”
I roll my eyes and nod. And what’s next?
“Finishing the tour, T in the Park, the Leftfield Stage at Glastonbury, going to play a festival in Japan, beach, sun and body-building,” answers Jak. “Not necessarily in that order.”
“What’s next?” says Saul. “A pint and a sandwich, that’s what’s next.”
But their manager comes to the window and taps his watch. Next minute they’re bundling out of the room and into a car, all laughter and “nice one”s as they go. They have an interview with Q magazine to do next – or so they tell me. But with this lot, you can never tell…
Story by Erica Goodey
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