James: Getting Away With It
Saul Davies on Yummy, Laid, four decades of James, and why the band still refuses to stand still.
Interview by Paul Marshall
There are interviews, and then there are those moments when you suddenly realise you’re talking to someone whose music has been woven into the soundtrack of your own life.
Tonight, I get to chat with Saul Davies, guitarist of legendary English rock band James.
James formed in Whalley Range, Manchester, in 1982, and I first saw them live in 1985 when they toured the UK as support to The Smiths. That was quite some introduction. Four decades later, the band are still making records, filling arenas and, remarkably, finding new ways to surprise their audience.
And Saul Davies is certainly not sitting around behaving like a conventional 62-year-old rock star.
Our conversation begins with Saul frantically navigating the streets of Porto. If you're wondering where Porto is, it's Portugal's second-largest city and Saul is trying to find somewhere to “sit down” while simultaneously battling a hectic schedule and the inevitable confusion of international time zones.
He apologises for being late.
There is absolutely no need.
In fact, it's strangely refreshing. Rather than some carefully staged rock-star interview conducted from the comfort of a hotel suite, I get a glimpse into the everyday chaos of Saul Davies. He eventually finds a café, orders a coffee in Portuguese and settles into his seat.
“Right, so fire away. Sorry about the delay.”
My first question isn't even on my list.
“What are you doing in Porto? Do you live there?”
“No,” he tells me, “but I've got a very strong connection. I'm about to go into a studio here, plus I've got a property in Portugal, but I live in Scotland. My kids are from here.”
Then comes the punchline.
“I know I don't look like it's possible, like, my youthful… aspect, but I've actually got grandkids, so I've come to visit those little f*****s as well, and do a little bit of grandad stuff.”
There is something wonderfully un-rock-star about it.
Saul is 62, but clearly hasn't received the memo about slowing down.
“60 is the new 40,” he tells me.
And considering everything James have been doing lately, it's difficult to argue.
James have been around for more than four decades. They've survived changing musical fashions, record-industry upheavals, line-up changes, the collapse of the traditional album business and the arrival of streaming.
Yet Yummy, released in 2024, somehow became the band's first UK No. 1 studio album.
So did they know they had something special while they were making it?
“No. No. That's the last thing you think.”
For James, apparently, there is no master plan.
“We just make music. Actually, for a band like us, we don't do anything other than set out to write some songs together, and then do some recording, and then kind of see what happens.”
No spreadsheets. No formula. No attempt to manufacture a hit.
“There's no plan as such, or any particular objective other than to write some good songs.”
That attitude feels increasingly rare in modern music.
Yummy was recorded at the legendary Abbey Road Studios in London with producer Leo Abrahams, and the result is another chapter in a catalogue that refuses to sit comfortably in one particular box.
For me, Way Over Your Head is one of the album's standout moments, while closing track 50s Out Takes pushes James into more experimental territory, offering another glimpse of a band still willing to explore rather than simply recreate what worked before.
And perhaps that's the secret.
James aren't trying to recreate their past.
They're still interested in discovering what comes next.
For a band with such an extensive back catalogue, there would be an obvious temptation to simply roll out the greatest hits.
Saul isn't interested.
“You know, we're never gonna be a band that just goes out and plays the greatest hits that we have.”
Of course, James play the big songs. They'd be crazy not to.
“But, new material means new opportunities to tour. So that's really important for us.”
It's a refreshing philosophy, particularly for a band who have been doing this for so long.
And their audience clearly isn't demanding that they live entirely in the past.
James have played multiple UK arena shows to crowds of around 22,000 people a night. In an industry where the economics of recorded music have been transformed by streaming, the live experience has become increasingly important.
But there is something else happening with James.
They've somehow managed to make people care about the new songs.
“We're bastards,” Saul laughs, describing the band's approach to touring.
“We'll go on tour and do arenas in the UK and play eight, nine new songs from the album.”
These aren't intimate club shows where a few hundred devoted fans politely listen to unfamiliar material.
“These are big sold-out venues.”
And then Saul delivers what sounds almost like the mission statement of James in 2026.
“In fact, that's what people are coming to hear.”
He pauses.
“This is the thing, this is the trick that James, our band has pulled off, which very few other of our contemporaries can do, which is actually what people come to hear.”
It's quite a claim.
But then, James have the history to back it up.
James have worked with some extraordinary producers and collaborators over the years, from Brian Eno through to Leo Abrahams and the creative team behind Yummy.
So what changes when a producer walks into a James recording session?
“Yeah, it changes all the time, depending on who's at the helm.”
Sometimes the process is collaborative.
“Sometimes, you know, it can be fraught.”
Saul has just been watching a documentary about legendary producer Mutt Lange and his work with AC/DC, and the story clearly resonates with him.
Lange arrived and radically changed the way the band worked, creating nervousness in the process.
“Oftentimes, bands are very protective of their material, you know, and you kind of don't want anybody else getting their hands on it.”
But that outside perspective can be exactly what a band needs.
“At the same time, you know that you need those outside ears to help sculpt and mould the band.”
James have certainly benefited from that philosophy.
“We made the album Seven with Youth — Martin Glover — he was amazing.”
And now there is another producer helping shape the next chapter.
As we speak, Saul is already working on the next James record.
And this one will be different again.
“We're almost finished, actually.”
The album has been recorded in London with Australian producer Catherine Marks, whose credits include work with some of the most acclaimed artists of recent years.
Saul clearly has enormous respect for her approach.
“She’s hyper-intelligent, hyper-focused, enthralled, really, I think partly by our band being able to jam and improvise, and she's really been enjoying that part.”
And there it is again, that willingness to improvise, experiment and see where the music takes them.
“So we've made another different kind of record, a very different record to Yummy, actually.”
Then comes the significance of the number.
“This record I just told you we're in the process of finishing off will be our 20th studio album.”
Twenty.
For most bands, that would be a career-defining landmark.
For James, it sounds almost like another starting point.
I ask Saul whether there is one song on the forthcoming album that he's particularly proud of.
“There’s one song on the record called One of the Three, which is my favourite.”
He describes it simply.
“It's a remarkable track.”
Then comes a line that tells me just how much he is looking forward to taking this music on the road.
“It's a very simple song, but it's got huge depth to it. And I look forward to bringing it to your part of the world.”
I'll hold him to that.
I ask whether James ever take new songs out on the road first, using the audience reaction to help determine which songs deserve a place on a record.
They used to.
They do that less now.
The modern James process is increasingly about making the album, releasing a couple of singles and then taking the finished work out to the world.
But there is an interesting consequence.
They don't need to hide the new songs among the classics.
They can play them.
And people actually want to hear them.
That's quite an achievement for any band, let alone one that began more than 40 years ago.
James are about to perform Laid in its entirety in Australia and New Zealand, something Saul admits they once swore they would never do.
“We vowed we would never do this kind of tour, right?”
Then came America.
“Last year, we did it in America.”
The circumstances changed.
The band wanted to play America themselves, rather than support another act or rely on a support band to help fill venues.
They also wanted to play longer.
“And the only way we could fill the venues was if we did our iconic album in America, right, which is the album Laid.”
Sometimes history has a funny way of forcing your hand.
A band can spend years insisting they won't revisit an album in a particular way, only to discover that the reasons for saying no have disappeared and the reasons for saying yes have become impossible to ignore.
Now Laid is coming back across the other side of the world.
And for fans in Australia and New Zealand, that means an opportunity to hear one of James' defining records performed in its entirety.
There's another James story currently being told.
The band's new documentary, Getting Away With It, released on August 17, opens the door on more than four decades of friendships, mistakes, creative decisions, triumphs and disasters.
I ask Saul whether seeing it assembled into one film changed the way he viewed James' history.
“Yeah, it was quite shocking, and funny, and interesting, and a bit challenging at moments.”
Importantly, the band were initially nervous.
“I think there was a lot of fear within our camp that it would be a load of bollocks.”
It wasn't.
The documentary was directed by Chris Atkins, whose previous work includes the KLF documentary, and Saul believes the band were in safe hands.
“He's a massive James fan.”
The problem, of course, is trying to condense a 45-year story into 90 minutes.
“In an hour and a half, it's very difficult to tell a story, right? About a band that's been going for 45 years.”
But Saul thinks the filmmakers found the right way in.
“I think he found a really nice way of telling the story.”
And what is that story?
Perhaps surprisingly, it's not about rock-star mythology.
“It's really a story about a bunch of idiots that shouldn't really exist, and really don't have their shit together to do anything, who somehow triumph.”
He laughs.
“And that's the story, right?”
It's told with humour and a healthy dose of self-deprecation.
“We're English, after all, so we revel in our self-deprecation.”
Then comes one of the most wonderfully surreal stories of the conversation.
The documentary unearthed footage from Lollapalooza in 1997.
Saul was backstage.
Naked.
Trying to set fire to his pubic hair with a lighter.
There is a pause.
“My mum was there.”
Suddenly, the rock-star bravado disappears.
“And my daughter was there like, ‘Dad! What were you doing?’”
Saul's defence?
“I was like, it was the 90s, babe! It was the 90s!”
Somewhere in Manchester, an archivist has probably just become very nervous about what else might still be sitting on a dusty tape.
There is something remarkable about James' story.
They shouldn't necessarily still be here.
The music industry that existed when they formed in 1982 barely resembles the industry of today. The way people discover music has changed. The way they consume it has changed. The economics have changed.
Yet James have continued to evolve.
They've made 20 studio albums.
They've created songs that have become cultural touchstones.
They've filled arenas.
They've experimented.
They've collaborated with some of the finest producers in the business.
And, perhaps most importantly, they've continued to make new music that their audience actually wants to hear.
That may be the greatest trick of all.
When I first watched James in 1985, supporting The Smiths, I couldn't possibly have known that more than four decades later I'd be sitting across from Saul Davies, albeit virtually, while he's navigating the streets of Porto, talking about their 20th studio album and an upcoming trip to New Zealand.
But that's James.
They keep moving.
They keep experimenting.
They keep touring.
And somehow, against all the odds, they keep getting away with it.
As we wrap things up, I tell Saul that I look forward to seeing him again when James come to New Zealand.
“I'll be at the show.”
“Magic,” he replies.
Saul then adds, “Well, come and say hello. It’d be nice to shake hands and, you know, meet on the other side of the universe. Brilliant.”
After 40-plus years, James are still looking forward rather than backward.
And I'll be there to see where they go next.
Tickets AVAILABLE NOW:
https://www.aucklandlive.co.nz/show/james-2026
16 October The Civic