The Verve song Richard Ashcroft says almost defines him and the band: “That feeling of transcendence”
I can distinctly remember listening to ‘The Rolling People’ by The Verve with my friends. We were in our late teens, buoyed by the promise of cheap booze and endless nights of music. The songs washed over us, and Richard Ashcroft‘s voice sounded truly impeccable.
The final note struck, and my friend, who was certainly no critic, poetically summated what we had just heard: “I’ve never heard a voice sound so much like an instrument”.
A throwaway comment he probably doesn’t remember ten years on, but one that has stuck with me. Because it was perfectly succinct and described exactly why Ashcroft’s voice was so special. It glided over the rhythm, punctuated the melody and soared in moments when both of those elements were stripped away. It embodied that gritty sense of soulfulness that existed in the cracks of that fruitful northern indie scene.
That essence bled over the entirety of the record on which ‘The Rolling People’ found itself. Urban Hymns was the emotionally nuanced understudy record of an otherwise vibrant Britpop scene. Ashcroft’s voice was the master commander that led its chorus of fans with the abrasiveness of a football terrace chant, but the tenderness of a wallflower. Simultaneously, the record put its middle finger right up to your face while patting you on the back with the remaining hand.
But that pat on the back turned into a warm embrace on what many consider the standout track on the album. The melody of ‘Lucky Man’ softly poured out over an acoustic guitar, before Ashcroft delivered one of his finest vocal melodies to date, while Nick McCabe’s lead guitar part rang out like the pitter-patter of raindrops.
It was a beautifully arranged track that straddled the line between outright soul and grandiose rock and roll. And it was in that very soundscape that The Verve’s brand of emotional songwriting could play out, and, as such, remains the definitive Richard Ashcroft song for the singer.
“The definitive Richard Ashcroft song will be when the cream of a particular emotion or a particular scenario in the human condition plays out, and that song mirrors it,” he said. “So, if it happens to be ‘Lucky Man’ for that feeling of transcendence, of liberty within yourself, your body, your partner in life, you can actually fleetingly feel that moment, and you want to put it in a bottle. And that’s what music’s about. It should be about capturing those moments for yourself, and then the listener can put it on over and over again, if they want.”
Ashcroft’s voice wasn’t crafted in a rehearsal space, painstakingly working its way through classic teachings to become the soaring powerhouse it was. It was an inherent representation of him, brimming with character and soul. While his description may seem lofty and borderline obtuse to some, for him, that was a mission statement by which he lived his life. It is why every performance on every song has the ability to incite a deep understanding of the human condition.
