Perhaps best known as the author of the acclaimed memoir Carrie Kills A Man, Carrie Marshall is also a musician with indie rock band Unquiet Mind. Her latest book, Small Town Joy, is an inquiry into the ways LGBTQ+ artists have shaped Scotland’s musical soundtrack. SNACK caught up with Carrie to hear all about it.
How do you describe Small Town Joy?
It’s a love letter; a celebration of great music and the people who created and were inspired by it.
Why did you want to write it?
I wanted to tell a story that I think is really fun, fascinating and full of joy. But I also wanted it to be joyful in the sense of the Idles’ album title, Joy as an Act of Resistance, because right now some of the world’s most powerful people are trying very hard to eradicate queerness and queer people from public life. Queer joy is everything they hate, so naturally I wanted to really celebrate it.
The title is a play on Bronski Beat’s ‘Smalltown Boy’. Just how important is that song in the history of music, and in wider culture?
I think it’s still one of the strangest and most beautiful pop songs ever recorded. It’s a ‘Heartbreak Hotel’, a ‘Ziggy Stardust’… just bottled lightning. And Jimmy Somerville’s voice is an extraordinary instrument. He’s a countertenor, which is really unusual in male voices – it gives him power and control that you don’t have with a falsetto, and he uses that to deliver a lyric that’s absolutely devastating: ‘The love that you need that will never be found at home’. So musically there’s a lot to love here.
Culturally I think it mattered so much in part because of the video. No sequins, no sparkles, just a wee guy from Ruchill and his pals. They looked like your neighbours because they were your neighbours. And then the video itself – this is 1984, most of the big-name gay artists are still in stealth mode or camping it up, and here’s Jimmy with an unflinching depiction of homophobic violence and parental rejection.
There are some amazing, inspirational characters who feature throughout. Do you have any personal favourites you would like to highlight?
I love that Jimmy Somerville pops up throughout the book whenever people need to get telt. And the musicians I met were all wonderful. But the most meaningful bits for me were meeting the people giving their energy to elevate others: people like Sunny Govan Radio, Bogha-frois, Music Broth, Queenz Sounds, Girls Rock Glasgow, and others.
As stated on the cover, you look at how ‘how queer music changed the sound of Scotland’, but you begin the book by putting that in a wider context. Were you ever tempted to examine the impact of queer music in a global context, or would that be too huge an undertaking? Do you feel you are finished with this story?
I was definitely tempted. But I think it’s often best to pick a smaller section to focus on, like Jon Savage does so brilliantly in The Secret Public or Carla J Easton does with Since Yesterday. Music will definitely play a part in whatever I do next but I haven’t quite worked out what that’ll be yet.
Your personal story is an important part of the narrative. Were there things you learnt from writing your memoir, Carrie Kills A Man, which fed into Small Town Joy?
I learned not to be afraid of complete honesty. I didn’t expect to include much ‘me’ this time around, but sadly in the very early stages of writing the book I experienced a major loss that music really helped me to deal with. Having shared so much in CKAM I felt confident that I could talk about music and grief in a way that would hopefully resonate with readers.
Has the way you listen to and regard music changed over the years?
Yes! I was amused the other day because my eldest wanted to listen to some of my vinyl and didn’t know how records worked – that there were two sides, where to put the needle, why there’s no skip button – but it was a reminder that the way we experience music has changed so much. I think the convenience and abundance of streaming has made me less patient and so much less likely to listen to an album all the way through, let alone repeat it until it clicks with me. With vinyl I’m not getting out of that chair until the side finishes. With streaming you’re getting two seconds to impress me, then I’m gone.
The later chapters look at music in Scotland right now. What do you feel about the state of music across the nation at the moment?
So many of the things that helped small artists become big have gone and aren’t coming back. The money flows to the platforms with virtually nothing trickling back down. So live music looks in rude health if you’re Ticketmaster, and streaming’s made the CEO of Spotify worth more money than Paul McCartney. But grassroots venues are closing, small tours are increasingly uneconomic, taking the kids to a show is more expensive than a holiday, and busking is more lucrative than streaming. It’s pretty bleak, and yet every day someone starts a band – including both of my kids. So I’m optimistic about making music, but not about people’s ability to make a living from it.
Small Town Joy is available now, published by 404 Ink. Available here.
