Culture That Made Me: Gavin James picks the music that's helped shape him
Gavin James at Cork Opera House in advance of his upcoming gigs. Picture Dan Linehan
The singer-songwriter Gavin James, 30, grew up in Cabra, Dublin. He was christened Gavin Wigglesworth but adopted the stage name Gavin James. In 2013, his debut single Say Hello won a Choice Music Prize for Song of the Year. In 2015, he released his first studio album, Bitter Pill, to widespread acclaim. He will perform at the Cork Opera House, Saturday, 2 April – Sunday, 3 April. See www.corkoperahouse.ie
Eddie Vedder was the main man. Pearl Jam’s Ten is a favourite album. His voice is extraordinary. I listened to a lot of grunge growing up – it gave me a different feeling to anything else. I didn’t think a lot of other people were listening to Pearl Jam at the time. I thought it was my little secret. The album sounds like it’s recorded live. It’s all the guitar on it as well. I got my first electric guitar when I was 12. I used to love playing all the solos, all the stuff with a wah-pedal. I had a band at school. I have a demo version of me singing the album live with the band. I tried my best to sound like Eddie Vedder so I had this weird fake grit thing going on.
My granddad was a whistler. His name was Jimmy Mac. It’s where my second name comes from – James. I took it from him as a good luck charm. He was very popular. He was on Late Late Show many times with Gay Byrne. He used to whistle along to a song with his two fingers. Unbelievably loud, hitting crazy high notes. He could stand in the middle of a stage like the Cork Opera House and have the place transfixed. He’d do songs like, say, Somewhere Over the Rainbow. When he put his ring on it would help hit the high notes. Every time he was in a pub and at, say, eleven o’clock, he’d put the ring on people would know: he’s going to start whistling. It’s going to go off now.
My granddad passed away when I was 10. When I was at his house, he used to get a sheet of paper and put it on the middle of the floor in the sitting room and be like, “Now do something. Impress me.” My brother would play the recorder. My sister would sing something. She’s an amazing gospel singer. He’d always push you. He’d love it. He was cool.
When I first heard Jeff Buckley’s voice I thought, oh man, he can sing. Vocal-wise, I got very influenced by him – his falsetto, high-pitched stuff. I used to do pub gigs all the time. People out getting pissed after a match listening to me singing Lilac Wine. It was so random. So deep! I’m going to listen to the album Grace on the train back home. It’s so good. I remember hearing he wasn’t happy with how polished Grace sounded. He wanted something more raw. A lot of my teenage years were spent listening to him.
With Bob Dylan, it’s more his lyrics than anything that grabbed me. I love listening to songs when I hear a clever lyric. A few of his songs leave me going, how did he come up with that? For example, The Times They A-Changin’: “Your sons and your daughters/Are beyond your command/Your old road is rapidly agin'/Please get out of the new one/If you can't lend your hand…” The playful way he does all his words blows my mind. Nobody else can do it like him.
I love the lyrics by Adam Duritz from Counting Crows. There’s one song, Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby, which is seven and a half minutes long and every lyric is a slam dunk. I found it on a CD in my dad’s car when I was about 13. The CD had a fish on it, but I didn’t know the name of the album; I listened to it for about six months not knowing who it was. It was only later I found out it was This Desert Life by The Counting Crows. That album is great.
I busked from aged 13 for about four years. We busked outside Brown Thomas on Dublin’s Grafton St. We used to count all the money in McDonald’s. It was great craic. We used to bring amps with us. There was three of us in a little rock band at school. We used to draw straws for who would have to sing, but I always ended up singing. I was pushing the voice a lot. Busking is about trying to get people’s attention who don’t give a damn, which is a skill I learnt from those days on Grafton St.
I saw The Color Purple on Broadway when I was in New York with my sister. Cynthia Erivo was the lead. There’s one song called I’m Here. It’s beautiful. I remember standing up at that gig and not realising I was standing up because of this crazy note Cynthia Erivo did in it. It was the best vocal I’ve ever heard live in a theatre. Her voice is out of this world. I’ll never forget hearing that many gospel voices in one room – including Jennifer Hudson – that were that good.
When I was a teenager, I had a quiver when I sang. I had this sheepish voice. It was a lot more lower – now my voice is more toppy and high, which makes no sense. I sounded older when I was 18 than I do now at 30. From doing pub gigs, I learned I could still sing as loud by using a different part of my diaphragm. I learned not to shout as much with my voice. It saved my voice. I could go home afterwards and not be dying. It was all trial and error.
Steven Tyler from Aerosmith was probably the best stage performance I've ever seen. It was at Marley Park in Dublin. He was unbelievable. He’s so good. He’s pure rock ’n’ roll. Not even a little cheese. He's awesome. Running around like a badass. I’d go and see them again in a heartbeat. I don't know how his voice sounds like that after so many gigs. It still sounds perfect.
I love the David Attenborough documentary, Climate Change: The Facts. I’ve watched it a few times. His voice is extraordinary. I’ve tried to watch other documentaries about wildlife but if his voice is not on it, it doesn’t work. His voice is perfect. He sounds very confident. It’s the same with Morgan Freeman. I’d love to hear David Attenborough singing. I’d say he’s class.
