Cornershop

It would be easy to make that assumption — and it would be wrong. These guys are not plundering another culture, they are another culture. Cornershop sits on the rubble of the fallen British Empire. It’s an intersection where ethnic minorities, students and club kids converge to make a sometimes joyful and sometimes angry noise.

The band’s frontman, Tjinder Singh, is a man of Indian descent who grew up in working class Wolverhampton, a place not exactly renowned for racial tolerance or artistic diversity. “There was a lack of things going on for someone like me,” said Singh in a voice that is all about understatement. “It made me want to DJ my own shows and promote my own gigs.”

There is a fierceness to Singh’s independent nature. He is distrustful of the corporate machine that eagerly promotes white bands who rip off other cultures while balking at the notion of a brown-skinned person playing “ethnic” pop music. Early on, Cornershop got a lot of press for burning pictures of Morrissey and protesting insidious racism in pop music.

Singh has reason to rail against intolerance but he is not bitter. He calmly recounts a story of how, as a teenager, he was trapped in a ring of burning gasoline and he and his Asian friends were told to “dance like Indians.” Knowing what he has endured and what he has accomplished makes Cornershop’s music sound like justice.

Because of its strong convictions — artistic and otherwise — Cornershop has always insisted on self-determination. “We’ve developed a good organization around us and it’s an organization we’ve been trying to improve as we’ve gone on,” said Singh. “We’re standing for the same principles we stood for in the beginning. I think it’s very rare that you get a group that’s so involved in its own development and that has changed so much and is still doing it with so much integrity. It’s pretty slick, really.”

When Cornershop was starting out five years ago, Singh went far out of his way to avoid the usual channels for success. The band handled their own production, art work, everything. Singh booked the shows into non-traditional venues to prove they weren’t part of the mainstream and because it was easier to get a gig and control it that way.

“We played schools and Christian festivals, mod clubs and other odd situations. It’s good to keep things different, he said. “There were reasons for doing things that way, but it certainly didn’t simplify anything.”

With the success of “Brimful of Asha” and the critical raves over the album When I Was Born For The 7th Time, times are a bit easier for Cornershop in some respects and more complicated in others. Singh had to quit his day job long ago in order to handle band business and even though the organization surrounding the band is fine-tuned and well-oiled, there’s just more to do now. The band toured with Oasis in the States earlier this year, recently wrapped a U.K. outing, and is in the midst of a club tour of Europe.

“It’s a tremendous amount of work but we like to do different things, so it’s good,” Singh said. “That’s why we did the Oasis dates. Their audience was very responsive to us, Oasis and their crew were very nice, and we got to play for a larger, different crowd.”

Cornershop’s music is an exotic blend of East and West, funk and raga, mirth and stinging irony. And it’s all live. On stage, guitarist/vocalist Singh and cohorts Anthony Saffery – sitar, harmonium and keyboard; Ben Ayers (pictured on the cover with Singh) – tamboura, guitar and keyboard; and drummer Nick Simms dish up their unique brew by themselves.

“Technology is interesting and we do use it, but we use it as a tool,” said Singh. “We don’t get bogged down in it and we don’t rely on it too much.”

One of the band’s earliest admirers knew that Cornershop had something going on that set them apart from other sampling, scratching, multi-culti acts. “Bob Lawton, our agent — he’s cool. He was the first one to go out on a limb and get us over to America,” said Singh. “He sorted out all the arrangements for the tour. And the only reason why he did it is because he thought, ‘Fuck it; it’ll be interesting.’ He just liked the music. We owe him a lot.”

It’s possible that the next time U.S. audiences see Cornershop, they’ll be disguised as their side-project, a more dance-oriented group called Clinton. (Certainly there’s nothing political behind the name). Meanwhile, Cornershop remains the one band that sounds right on playing the Beatles’ “Norwegian Wood” with Punjabi lyrics. Is that a political statement or are they just goofing on a British institution? That, according to Singh, is for you to decide.