NYLON - June 2008 - (Page 112) COME AS YOU ARE Give up? No way. The Vines have swung back from a series of setbacks and are better than ever. By Chris Martins. Photographed by Jaesung Lee The Vines’ frontman Craig Nicholls looks the same as he always has. He’s pretty in a boyish sort of way, all elbows and skinny limbs, with straight brown hair cupping a smooth pale face that ends in a pointed chin. His clothes are as nondescript as always, the usual armor of an unlikely rock star: a black T-shirt, some collared out-of-fashion thing with a zipper, a pair of cords, sneakers. His lone bit of flair is written with Sharpie across the left forearm, a shaky scrawl that reads “The Redwalls”—somebody else’s band. He’s grinning a mad grin as if he’s getting ready to say something offensive. “Family, friends, and religion,” he snarls. “These are the three demons you must slay to succeed in the business of R ’n’ R.” It almost sounds convincing, nearly profound (albeit in a Spinal Tap-ish way), but he can’t maintain the pose: “ which is ‘rest and recovery’ for me. Or ‘schlock and roll.’ Whatever you want to call it. It’s a big joke to me; the whole thing’s a joke.” He means it. Or maybe he doesn’t. It’s hard to know. One of the symptoms of Asperger’s Syndrome, a mild form of autism which the notoriously disorderly singer was diagnosed with in 2004, is mind blindness, a condition that hinders the brain’s ability to process the facial expressions and various human errata that communicate intent behind words. Whether or not it has anything to do with Nicholls’ affliction, he himself is nearly impossible to read. He makes pompous statements, apologizes for them, then justifies their intent by way of humility. He laughs when he’s made a joke, or when he’s uttered a personal truth. He says he doesn’t care, but he obviously does—sometimes. “We’re not a new band. I don’t have to do this for the money. I’ve got nothing to prove. We’ve just got this fucking great album, and that’s what I think.” Then: “Of course, I don’t expect the album to get the recognition it may deserve, just like a lot of albums.” Then, choking back fake tears: “I’ve never been so happy in my life.” And, pressing his hair over his eyes, muttering: “Um, I forget the question. I keep talking about myself ” So what does the return of the former harbingers of the indie-garagerock revival mean? The Australian foursome’s—Nicholls is now the only original member, and is joined by guitarist Ryan Griffiths, bassist Brad Heald, and drummer Hamish Rosser—still-untitled fourth LP is certainly closer to the frenetic rock eclecticism of their 2002 Capitol debut, Highly Evolved, than anything they’ve done since. Recorded in Los Angeles under the tutelage of their original producer, Rob Schnapf (Foo Fighters,
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