CONTRARY TO the pictorial theory propounded by Ms Paula Yates, it Is not always prudent to examine, when seeking insight into the pop star, what they look like in their underpants

New Musical Express February 24, 1996

Village Papal

CONTRARY TO the pictorial theory propounded by Ms Paula Yates, it Is not always prudent to examine, when seeking insight into the pop star, what they look like in their underpants. Indeed, more telling points of interest are to be found locked In that invaluable resource of
telecommunication, the ansaphone message.

So dial the Chicago number of SMOKING POPES singer Josh Caterer, and begin to understand what ‘gives’. The singer Is detained elsewhere having got up unexpectedly early to procure a passport for his impending visit to England, but in his absence, we are regaled by a telling message. A big band honks, and over the row of a popular showtune, a squeaky voice is heard to ponder the existential questions that underwrite much of the best pop music. Namely: “Why am I such a misfit?? Why am I such a misfit?/You can’t fire me I quit!? Because I don’t fit in,,.
Wise words, show tune bloke, because though they may not have explicit foibles, it Is to these sentiments that we can attribute the existence of Smoking Popes. Formed four-and a half years ago when he was in his senior year at high school, Josh decided to put the band together as much out of middle class ennui as anything else: he knew he didn’t wont to go to college or get a regular lob so — hey! — he formed a group.
Disappointingly, only half of its members smoke, and none are Popes. Yet with a name derived from the Mickey Rourke film The Pope Of Greenwich Village (“He’s the pope of Greenwich Village, and, uh, he smokes,” explains Josh, radiantly) Josh, along with hIs brother, Eli, who piays guitar, his other brother, Mott, who plays bass, and genetic interloper, Mike, who drums, the group set Out, if not to change rock’n’roll history, then at least to be one of the very few groups numbering three siblings among its members.
“Like The Neville Brothers,” explains Josh. “Except that it’s a whole different genre!”
Having been completely untroubled by a Gallagher like urge to repeatedly twat each other, it Is this genre that makes the Smoking Popes remarkable. The song is called ‘Need You Around’, and you have heard it everywhere. From Chris Evans’ breakfast show to the soundtrack to the film Clueiess: violent strum that sounds unnervingly like The Wedding Present, topped with Josh’s heart-rending supplication that:
“If I could stand to be on my own? l would probably... leave you al-oo-eone?” And very shortly after that you will have thought It sounded like Morrissey, but very good in spite of that.
“I got into The Smiths right after ‘The Queen Is Dead’ came out,” says Josh. “But I wasn’t intentionally trying to sound like that. Tom Jones, or more of a Vegas sort of crooner effect was what I was aiming at.”
These are the words of the proverbial square peg In round hole; the American whose genre Is fated to be Anglophile grunge, and who hasn’t even seen the film that made his song famous. Has he never lounged around with a copy of The Works Of Oscar Wilde then?
“I never have. And even if I had lounged around foppishly,” says Josh, slyly, “1 would certainly never admit It to you.”
John Robinion
• ‘Need You Around’ is out now on Parlophone. The Popes pop over to Britain for dotes at Manchester Roadhouse (February 22), London King’s Cross Splash Club (23),

Glasgow King Tut’s Woh Woh Hut (25), Birmingham Jug Of Ale (26) and London Choring Cross Borderline (28). Their album, ‘Born To Quit’, follows on March 4.