James Brown, The Windmill and Clams Baker Jr’s pure heart: How Warmduscher became the hottest ticket in town
“I fell into live music,” Clams Baker Jr of Warmduscher says after just returning from a run of shows with Paranoid London in America. Despite relentless touring, the bar-spitting frontman speaks with pep, recalling some of his early experiences with exceptional live music, as God has intended it.
“I never ever thought I would perform and do stuff like that,” he confesses. “A lot of music I used to go and see live, they were all like traditional frontmen, where they are entertaining and there’s a lot of energy. I was into a lot of punk music, really into hip-hop, you know, the classics. But I saw James Brown when I was a kid, and that was kind of like, ‘Woah!’”
Talk to anybody who is involved in the modern music scene about the live experience and time how long it takes for them to suggest going to a Warmduscher gig. Easy to say but difficult to write, the band have made a name for themselves as one of the best live acts on the go, with Clams becoming renowned as a must-see frontman. So, where does that addiction to live music begin? If you’re Clams, it’s in hip-hop, punk and a tent in your hometown, watching your Mum swoon as James Brown tries it on.
“I grew up in Cape Cod, which is like a tiny forest trap. It’s a beautiful place, and they have one thing called The Melody Tent there. The people that live there are generally a lot older, so you mainly get acts coming in; this is the late ‘80s, I guess, so you’d get acts coming in who were like old Motown artists, blues artists, or whoever there was that wasn’t in the charts, but they were still touring,” he recounts. “So, when I was like 11, I went to see [James Brown], my Mum took me.”
Clams remembers the gig like it was yesterday. Despite Brown’s age and deteriorating health, he still delivered his famous energy, nailing every single note and dominating the stage as though it was as natural as breathing. “It must have been his PCP phase, I guess,” he laughs, “He was still on it. I saw him years later in Seattle or somewhere and he couldn’t finish the songs. I was super lucky to see it when I did.”
He continues, “I got to meet him afterwards, everyone did, it was such a small place, and there was only one place to go […] Everyone had a good seat, it’s probably like 500 cap. You’d walk out afterwards, and we just stopped and was like, ‘Oh, James’. Anyway, he then proceeded to hit on my mother […] He definitely lived up to his credentials.” It made a lasting impact on young Clams, too.
From Cape Cod to south London, there is a buzz in the air. Live music is king. Bands are constantly playing pop-up gigs, album launches come with intimate in-store shows, and that’s all before an act embarks on a more extensive regular tour. Word of mouth is powerful again, and the number of bands across the country rising to fame based on the strength of their live show is staggering. We currently find ourselves in a new era of live music, likely ripples in water after forced lockdowns and the changing landscape for bands, this emphasis on the live show is dominating. At the heart of this newfound adoration is south London, specifically, The Windmill, Brixton.
The whole venue is unassuming. Run down but charming, a black sign reads “The Windmill” on the back of the stage, surrounded by glittery tassels. The clientele are… to be expected… when a venue gets notoriety for up-and-coming, edgy talent, it can’t be much of a surprise that the people who frequent the venue are edgy up-and-comers. Insufferable, often, but you’re willing to put up with it for the acts that perform. Pints are reasonable, art that dons the walls is chaotic, and the beer garden is disintegrating, busy and littered with half-arsed stories of the rat-arsed. The Windmill might have changed drastically over the span of a decade, but it remains one of the go-to places to experience the excellent live music London has to offer.
“It’s weird because the most volatile place would be The Windmill. I went through three different phases there,” said Clams, “The first band I played with, nobody was going there. Then I went through the whole South London resurgence with Fat White Family, Black Midi and everyone was totally vibing. Now… You had so many different bands, and when Covid-19 came in, it wasn’t feasible to be a musician unless that’s all you’re doing. So, I think now, you’re kind of seeing after that, really, people who have just been working and really want to do it. People who are going for it.”
He continued, “I love the state of what’s going on now. Of course, I’m nostalgic, but I’ve never been one of those people like, ‘Oh, it was so much better this year, so much better’, which is fine; people subscribe to that, I just do not. Then, on the flipside to that, what I’ve really noticed is that the electronic world is even more going crazy, which isn’t any bearing on Warmduscher; well, it kind of is because we subscribe to both worlds, but it’s really vibrant and really going. But the recurring theme is that nobody has any money.” Which means people are simply doing it.
A love for live music is evident in everything that Clams and Warmduscher do. When they take to the stage, their commitment to the energy and presence necessary for a good gig couldn’t be more evident. Like a PCP-using James Brown, Clams dominates every inch of the floorboards, and the crowd follows each and every movement.
“In the early days, a lot of the energy, or most of the energy, would have come from fear, I guess,” he said, “You know, being stuck out there and being like, ‘woah’, and learning as you’re going type shit. But I just always liked doing it. I liked shows like that. I liked shows with a lot of energy […] What I’m putting out there is something where I feel like I owe it to those paying to see us, to give off energy and to do that.”
At a gig in KOKO, some friends and I went to watch Madness’ playthrough of their most recent album, C’est La Vie. There, we watched one of the best frontmen in the world do what he does best. Decades of practice culminated into 90 minutes of musical perfection, as a crowd of all generations was lost in every step, lyric, and utterance between songs. Through the power of contacts and showbiz, we ended up backstage as the band were closing, and upon sharing a drink with the god-like frontman I’d just been admiring, his words when he came off stage will forever stay with me: “Bollocks, I think I’ve broke my fucking toe.” It seems Clams could break his back and barely notice.
Similar to famous venues like The Windmill, despite the glamour, energy, and unrelenting showmanship, there is undeniably a foundation upon which all has to be built. In venues, this is brick, cement, and hard graft; in bands, it’s people and artistry. While Warmduscher has the live circuit in the palm of their hand, this no doubt comes with added pressure, which places a significant onus on understanding where the frontman begins and ends. For Suggs, it was stepping off the stage and clocking his toe was throbbing, but where is it for Clams?
“I owe it to the people around me to be different off-stage,” admits Clams. “I don’t stray too much. I’m not jumping around and as active, but I’m always doing stuff, and when I’m writing music I like to create a character that’s totally different to myself. There is a difference. Classically, I’m more reserved outside; I might be, not reclusive, but more introverted. There is a big difference […] I’d much rather be boring, not boring, but I’d much rather hang out with a few people than a lot of people.”
Alas, isn’t this what live music is all about? Breaking free from ourselves for a moment, whether on the stage or in the adoring crowd? That frontman energy is present in every single second of Warmduscher’s new album, Too Cold To Hold. In one of their more versatile outings, the band condenses the live element of their show and presents it to listeners in a difficult way to ignore. This doesn’t just mean that the songs have a live feel to them, though; they’re more layered than that, using complex structure, a mixed bag of effects and a scattered list of features to create a night out in a bottle.
“Everyone in the band is incredibly talented. I guess it’s selfishness; we just kind of do what we like and hope for the best, I guess you could say. We don’t get in and do something premeditated, per se, it comes to a point where, when we get a song together, it’s at a point where we’re all liking it, and we’re all kind of like, ‘We’re having fun with this, let’s do this, let’s go’. So we’re always at that stage, no matter what we do. This being self-produced we got to really do whatever we wanted.”
From James Brown to Suggs to Clams, we are living in a new age of live performance, one where artistic frustration meets a crowd devoid of contact, coming together to create something beautiful and exciting. At the forefront of that are Warmduscher. Having lived through different phases of live circuits, they’re very aware of how good things are right now and capitalise on that both in their live show and their studio recordings. As James Brown flirted with his Mum that fateful night, the seeds were planted for one of the best performers in modern music to rise up and do what he does best. The punk is still pure at the heart.
