LIGHTSPEED CHAMPION
Interview by Thomas Sussman
Images by Marius W. Hansen

Lightspeed Champion is Devonte Hynes: though the touring band has featured Florence from Florence and the Machine, Mike Siddell from Hope of the States, Ryan Barkataki from Snow White and Emmy the Great. Dev is their driver, binder and reason.

Most people came to know of Mr. Hynes via his role in the short-lived punk band Test Icicles. Their fanbase was tremendous; an army galvanised by molten obsession. Moreover, the nation’s critics were denied their most treasured pleasure: green-eyed, sardonic catharsis. While the group’s achingly hip image had journalists tremulous for the opportunity to condescend and bitch, few retained the motivation. The majority had their minds forcibly cleared by the trio’s white noise tonic. The resultant reviews were wonderful. Test Icicles, however, lost interest in what they were doing and then eventually in each other. It is well reported that interviews became increasingly difficult, with the threesome’s responses eventually consisting of short rebuttals humphed from behind fringes. It soon became clear that the project was an in-joke gone sour. In February 2006, the fun dried up and the fans were left thoroughly confused and disappointed.

Two years have now passed and some of the dust has settled. Dev has begun a new “alternative folk” musical venture; moreover, two singles “Galaxy of the Lost” and “Midnight Surprise”, a full tour last Autumn and his album release earlier this year (Falling off the Lavender Bridge / Domino Records) suggest commitment.

In the fall of 2007, we meet in a pub. As Dev bobs towards my table, I take in his awesome appearance. He is a rock ‘n’ roll tarantula – two, long shrink-wrapped legs topped by a massive, jet-black barnet. My amazement, however, is soon replaced by curiosity. I want to know if he is more content and if he has found creative resolve. Most important of all, I am desperate to find out if Devonte Hynes is ready to be Lightspeed Champion. Initially, there are no obvious clues. Our eye contact is obstructed by the glare of his spectacles and his nervous jitters are confused by a confident handshake.
So I plunge in.

How are you?
Okay, yeah. I bought a new album. I’ve never owned Is This It by the Strokes. [He fishes a small brown paper bag from his pocket and pulls out the CD]. A new Rough Trade shop opened. I don’t buy CDs and I don’t buy music often, so I thought I would go to the Rough Trade shop and for my first purchase I bought Is This It.

Is that the indiest thing you have ever done?
I don’t think you could actually get more indie.

Let me start properly by asking: is it true that if you weren’t called Lightspeed Champion, you would be called Apple Cue [i.e. the quit everything command on Macs]?
It was going to be Dev and the Apple Cues.

Well I suppose Steve Jobs will be happier with Lightspeed Champion.
Yeah. I like that name though!

Maybe there is room for it in the album’s sleeve notes?
I haven’t done the notes for the album yet, so I might actually play on it. I like that idea. It’s like Elvis Costello
and The Attractions.

At this point I have to say, congratulations for two fantastic singles. I especially liked “Galaxy Of The Lost”.
[The interviewee’s eyes widen and he leans forward] Oh, thank you! I went looking for it in Rough Trade and they didn’t have it! I don’t know anything about it actually. Literally, I forgot the single had come out until my violinist reminded me. He said, ‘What happed with the single?’ and I was like ‘Shit! It came out?’

Well I can tell you that it got to Nº. 21 in the independent charts.
No way! Wow! I didn’t know that. Wow! God! That’s amazing.

So you recorded the single and just stood back?
Yes. It’s really bad, but I’m happy recording. Then, when someone cares enough to put it out that’s amazing to me. I don’t really think about that stuff. That is cool though!

Your forthcoming album was produced by Mike Mogis [who sometimes plays with and produces Bright Eyes]. How did that happen?
He was given my demos, but I didn’t know. So, I was in my kitchen and got a phone call from Laurence [Bell, founder of Domino Records]. He said, ‘I’m going to pass you over to Mike Mogis’. I was like ‘What? What! What are you telling me here?’

What was it like to work with him?
It was cool actually. We spoke on the phone for about five months leading up to eventually me flying to Omaha. So it was cool. But the surreality didn’t really hit until after. I mean, I knew Tilly and the Wall anyway and I’d talked to Mike for ages, but Conor [Oberst of Bright Eyes] sort of drifted in and out.

Is Conor a nice guy? His music is quite intense. Does he reflect that?
Yeah, he’s an amazing, amazing guy. I mean he is like that, but if I’m completely honest he’s the most outgoing and open person. You probably expect him to brood, but he’s actually one of those people that’s naturally loud. In fact, he should probably hold more stuff in.

Do you see any of yourself in him?
I should definitely hold more stuff in!

I mean it seems that you both make dark and direct records, but in person both of you are gregarious.
Yeah, that’s probably why we got on so well, actually. [Whilst recording in Nebraska] I got my own house, but when Conor was at the studio I would stay at his house and at like six in the morning I’d walk back to mine.

You were born in Houston, now live in London and recorded in Nebraska. Where do you feel that you belong?
I don’t know. It’s weird actually, because lately I’ve been feeling really English. I don’t know what it is. It is something that has happened. Or European maybe. It’s weird. When I got back from Omaha, I went straight to Paris, because I felt weird in lots of ways. I needed an escape so I went to Paris and stayed a while. I had a list of certain artists, musically, that I wanted to look up and indulge in. So I spent a lot of time just searching around. A lot of that is still in me, I think. I’m trying to experiment musically, writing songs in the style of these weird French Jazz composers from the late ’50s and ’70s. The main guy I was looking for was Alain Goraguer, who composed a soundtrack for the animated film, Fantastic Planet, or La Planète Sauvage. I was just really obsessive in trying to find all of the stuff that he did. So I’ve been experimenting and maybe that’s something to do with this newly felt European identity. But it’s weird.

Whose idea was your recent Big Brother’s Big Mouth appearance?
Mine. Peaches [Geldof] was presenting and I’ve been good friends with her for a really long time. I was homeless and she gave me a place to stay. One night, we all went out and I said ‘You should get me to come on and play!’ She didn’t mention it again, but then the next week I got a phone call from the show’s producer who said ‘I really like your single, will you do the show?’ I was like ‘That’s really funny, but I’ll do it because it’ll be awesome!’ So I did it. It was really fun – it was actually one of the most fun days I’ve had this year.

You seem like a happy-go-lucky guy, but also most comfortable writing dark songs. Is it catharsis?
Wow. It’s weird. I suffer from pretty horrible mood swings. It’s either like that [raises his hand to signify high] or like that [drops his hand down low], so that’s probably coming up. I dunno really though, it varies. Lately, I’ve been writing really uplifting songs. And it’s a shame, because I guess no one’s going to hear them ‘til 2009 or something.

Does writing help you to rationalise?
Well last night, I think I wrote the darkest song I’ve ever written, which is weird since I’ve been working on really uplifting songs lately. But this song last night is really odd and I don’t know what to do with it. It just happened. I was talking to a friend of mine in New York; I love her to death but in this conversation she was just hitting different parts of me and pressing the right buttons. I got really cold to her. In the end I couldn’t even talk to her. She reminded me of things that I had completely forgotten about. I just had to get it all out. It was really dark. I re-read it this morning and was like, ‘Errrrrr!’

What’ll happen to it?
I’m going to demo it. I try to record two songs a day. I’m going to do one tonight, but I decided I’m going to do it all with my voice, just to make it different. I’m going to do all the sounds vocally.

Generally, are you happy writing music at the moment?
It’s something that I love doing. I’ve also been playing with different people, like guitar for Florence and The Machine. That’s so fun!

Recently, I heard that you were involved in a gun-related tussle in Dalston. Is that right?
Yeah, it was about four more stops that way [he points north, up the road].

What were you doing wrestling with gun-toting youths?
I dunno. That was actually two days before I flew to Omaha. Some kids tried to jump me, so I beat one of them up. He sucker punched me in the face, so I started beating him up. Meanwhile his friends were standing there like, ‘Oh shit! That’s not meant to happen!’ Then this guy was like [he makes a pistol shape with his fingers] ‘Do you want your life to end right now?’ and I just went for him. I guess what my subconscious was thinking was ‘If you’re going to shoot someone, you’re going to shoot someone’. That was odd though. Stuff like that happens a lot. It actually lasted a lot longer. It was a recurring thing with the same group of people. Then it just died down.

Aren’t you scared?
Not really. No, I just find it more annoying. It kind of grates on my soul, rather than scares me.

More disappointing?
Yeah, more like a [makes a sighing gesture with his shoulders]. Death does scare me but it’s going to happen, so that sort of thing has never bothered me in my mind.

You would make an excellent gun-fighter.
Yeah.

Dev and I both smile at this weird but neat ending to the interview and I turn off the Dictaphone. We then sit and chat for a further 30 minutes. We witter on about our favourite comic book illustrators (he plans to release his own publication in early 2008), our guitars and music that we are meant to like but cannot. Then, still prattling, we leave for the bus-stop. Outside, it is raining hard and we are 50 metres from our halting 29. We run to catch the bendy behemoth, but as we dash I become aware of something: Lightspeed Champion is laughing.