Interview

ANDERSON: Yes, even in a documentary. But sometimes you can take something that’s a complete work of artifice and say, “Now I’m going to try to find the most spontaneous, natural version of this that we somehow make happen for real in front of the camera.” I have a question: Is the song “Further Complications” going to be the first single?

COCKER: Um . . .

ANDERSON: Do they even do singles now the way that they used to?

COCKER: Well, I don’t know. I mean, people do still release singles, but sometimes it’s more symbolic than anything else. There’s the famous thing that the A&R man from the record company is supposed to do: He’s supposed to come into the studio and listen to the songs you’ve been recording and then say, “Guys, I don’t hear any singles.” And then everybody falls into a terrible depression because you have to write one. [laughs]

ANDERSON: Well, I guess the thrust of what I was saying was that when I listened to “Further Complications,” I heard a single.

COCKER: You heard a single?

ANDERSON: Yeah. That song is a single to me.

COCKER: I was thinking that one could be a single, or that maybe that other one called “Angela.”

ANDERSON: “Angela” is great too. And then, what’s the one where the guy meets the girl at the Museum of Paleontology? What’s it called?

COCKER: It’s called “Leftovers.”

ANDERSON: “Leftovers.” In both “Angela” and “Leftovers,” a man is involved with a much younger person . . .

COCKER: Well, most people I meet nowadays are a lot younger than me, you see . . .

ANDERSON: Yes, I find that too.

COCKER: So that’s the thing I was kind of trying to address in “Leftovers.” It’s about someone looking at a dinosaur skeleton, and, you know, these creatures once ruled the earth . . . But then that person sees somebody that they’re sexually attracted to, and there’s something about looking at a skeleton while having erotic thoughts—not about the skeleton, but about the life of the person that runs the other skeleton within their body. That’s kind of where that song starts from, and I suppose there are intimations of mortality at work there . . . I don’t know. I always thought that I might retire from any form of sexuality by the age of 40 and just become a dignified older person. If you are able to still do it at least, then you find you still have wants and desires, and then you have to start dealing with that . . . [laughs]

ANDERSON: What’s the title of the song about the girl who there’s no possibility that any romance is going to happen with, so instead the singer will just do the song?

COCKER: Oh, that one is called “Fuckingsong.”

ANDERSON: Is it?

COCKER: Yeah.

ANDERSON: Are those songs about anybody in particular?

COCKER: Well, “Fuckingsong” is more about . . . You know, this will sound really stupid, but I’m going to say it anyway: If you perform on a stage or you sing a song, it’s like you sing your song, and then the words go into the air, and then they go into somebody’s body through their ears, so it’s kind of like penetrating somebody. It’s kind of like having sex with somebody—but, obviously, from a great distance. [laughs] And so the idea of that song is that that’s a better way to have a relationship with somebody—that somebody being me. It’s a better way to have a relationship with me than if you had the real thing. Because in a song you can kind of stage-manage everything so that it puts you in a good light. And once a song is recorded, it always performs well. That song won’t get drunk and then be unable to have sex with you—you can put that song on anytime, day or night, and it’ll perform its very best for you, which is far superior to anything that I could claim to do. So that’s what that song is trying to say—that this is as good as it gets, basically.

ANDERSON: That’s sad . . . but positive.

COCKER: Yeah. [laughs]