But Cope is sorry now his band ever recorded the song. Quite literally, "For What It's Worth" wasn't worth it. "The Rolling Stones are suing us," says Cope, explaining that the Stones' lawyers were pleased to introduce themselves after determining that the sampled scream was a legal no-no. "They want royalties from the 40,000 records we've already sold, plus we've now got to get back in the studio and rerecord the sampled track with our own voices," Cope complains. He describes the whole thing as "a bit unfair," pointing out that rap groups are always sampling other people's stuff. "But then I think they're starting to get sued, too," says Cope, recalling the otherwise forgettable Vanilla Ice and his recent legal woes with a "Satisfaction" sample. "I guess everyone is getting sued these days," Cope sighs. "Especially by the Rolling Stones."
Cope is speaking from his home in Oxford, England. He's trying his best to answer questions while dodging the antics of his rambunctious young daughter. "She's 3 going on 22," he laughs. It's been a hectic couple of weeks for Cope. He and his fellow Candy Skins are preparing for the band's first U.S. tour, and there are all sorts of details to work out, not the least of which is getting through the complicated visa process. The Candy Skins never had to worry about such things before, because until now the band hasn't strayed too far from home. Cope and his brother Mark, who sings back-up to Nick's lead vocals (they both play guitar), have been chums with drummer John Halliday, bassist Karl Shale and lead guitarist Nick Burton since elementary school days. As teenagers, they all discovered the Sex Pistols and decided to form a punk band.
"We started playing punk because it was so easy," says Cope. "You learn to play one day and start writing songs the next." But by the mid-Eighties the boys had had enough. "We got disillusioned by it all," says Cope. "We were getting a little older and we just got fed up with not having enough money to take out girls or drink beer."
After awhile, though, Cope and his buddies sensed that "something was missing" in their collective lives. They got the band back together and started anew with a decidedly older sound. "One of the reasons we stopped playing punk was the lack of good songs," says Cope. "We've always known what a good song was, whether it's Sinatra, punk, Bacharach, even disco. And so it seemed like a natural progression for us to go back to the Beatles, because their songs were so good."
Cope says the Candy Skins' rearview sensibilities mark the band as a target for smug United Kingdom music wags, especially those at the ever-trendy New Musical Express, which "calls all the shots," according to Cope. "It's cut and dried with them," he says. "They either like you or they don't, and these days if you're not into acid house, or a credible noise band that sounds like Dinosaur Jr., then they're not concerned." Cope says the Candy Skins are considered "revisionists" on the band's home sod, and he's not happy with the classification. "I understand you have to generalize and pigeonhole a new band that no one's ever heard because the reader has to know what the music sounds like," he says. "But the reviewers here think we're trying to be a straight Sixties band, which we're not."
Indeed, though the past is very much present in the Candy Skins' songs, there's a stronger similarity to more modern U.K. exports like the La's and the Mighty Lemon Drops, both of which were bigger and faster hits here than back home across the pond. That kind of success was no doubt a consideration of Geffen Records when the label signed the Candy Skins after hearing only three of the band's songs. The audition took place at an Oxford showcase gig--a gig that almost didn't happen. "Nick [Burton] didn't want to do it," Cope says, incredulously. "He said, `Why do we have to compromise ourselves and go out and find a gig for this guy from a record company?' Fortunately, we didn't listen to him."
The deal was signed after an earlier inking with a major label in England fell through. Thus the band was eager to please its new label when a Geffen representative returned to Oxford and checked in at a rehearsal to size up the new recruits' roster of songs. Cope recalls that the band members decided beforehand to play only the material they wanted to record. But when they were done, the company man judged that the band didn't have enough songs for an album and started to leave. "We said, `Wait!' and we played him a couple more," Cope recalls. "When we finished he went, `Fine. You've got an album.'"
One of the extra songs turned out to be the relatively innocuous "Black and Blue," which fades in comparison with the LP's better tunes, like "So Easy" and the debut single "Submarine Song." The other late addition was "Freedom Bus," the song most reminiscent of the Monkees. Indeed, memories of the tumbling guitar intro to "Last Train to Clarksville" and the chorus to "Pleasant Valley Sunday" are both very evident on "Freedom Bus," but Cope offers no apologies for the apparent Monkee-see, Monkee-do. "We grew up with the Monkees," he says. "My brother was a big fan. So we really don't care if people think we sound like them. I mean, if they honestly think we do, then I guess it's a fair comparison. But I figure if people don't like the Monkees then they won't like much of what we do, anyway."
The Candy Skins will perform at KUKQ Q-Fest '91 at Chandler Compadre Stadium on Saturday, September 14, with Meat Puppets, Crowded House, Richard Thompson, The Wonder Stuff and Pere Ubu. Showtime is 4 p.m.
"We started playing punk because it was so easy. You learn to play one day and start writing songs the next." "These days if you're not into acid house, or a credible noise band, then they're not concerned." "Reviewers here think we're trying to be a straight Sixties band, which we're not."
"I guess everyone is getting sued these days. Especially by the Rolling Stones."
EVERYTHING'S SWINE WITH THEM FORBIDDEN P... v9-11-91
