Another Sheffield band? Well fortunately, unlike the mass glutch of bands that pervaded from Liverpool, way back when, the products of this Northern smelting pot seem at odds to establish their identities and prove themselves independent in the true sense of the word; and not just as singers/ songwriters: Such are Hula.

Hula are, at present, four: Mark, Ron, Nort and Jon [John - SE]. A quartet that present a distinctly idiosyncratic sound that is more than just music. Kicked out of the womb back in 1982, Hula have been more or less dutifully ignored despite a regular output of vinyl. The first recording appeared in '83; titled "Black Pot Workout" it forebade well of any future work and gave a taste of the experimental sound they produce.

Manic to a degree, intimations of violence abound, subsequent work became more cohesive evolving around, sometimes, a hard "funk" - with the remains dissolving into what appears to be a brand of chaos. Driving and cutiously subliminal, Hula never present an obviously packaged object in either sound or vision, but leave you discovering what you will from what they give. Following "Black Pot Workout" [Black Pop Workout - SE] came a mini-LP, "Cut From Inside", these two providing the basis for their most tacit work to date which appeared in the form of the 12" "Fever Car" and, from the same period a "33" - "Murmur".

There's something about "murmur" that, given sufficient listening, allows itself into your brain or, more importantly, onto the top of your record pile. Music here for every mood. "Get The Habit" and "Bad Blood", the two sides of their last offering, were, to this penpusher, only an echo of former achievements, yet should have undoubtedly raised an eyebrow or two. Imagine the set: a bleached correspondent sits between two Hulas; Mark and Nort, outside the ex-industrial building that houses their home built studio(s) and their recording equipment.

Three men (?) sit afore their confessor. And did that sun shine: Rumoured to be hardworking lads, it has even been suggested that if one wants a day off, one has to ask for it. Can this be true?

Mark puts us straight: "Well, it's not a case of having to ask for it because that assumes a kind of bureaucracy like, you know, "Sir, Sir, can I have the day off? It's more a case of we have so many things to do that we have to take that approach to achieve the things we want."

A sort of self-discipline then?

"That's right", continues Nort "and it's wanting to do it, as well; wanting to create and do things; the only way to do it is to put the time in"

"Because we don't just . . . . it's not just sound, we do a lot of visual stuff as well with films, videos and graphics and as I say it's just down to, if there's things you want to achieve then you have to do the things necessary to achieve them and that means putting the work in."

With all this hard work going on, is there a danger of taking themselves too seriously or do Hula work with a sense of self-mockery and humour?

"Well, yeah, there's a lot of humour in it, but it vacillates, some things you have to take seriously 'cos they've got that feel to them and other numbers are quite humourous. Black humour and white humour."

"We take it seriously in so far that it's important to all of us to do this. We all enjoy doing it, but we're not grim-faced, clenched-teeth types at all."

"Another thing about, maybe, why we seem to work hard is the fact that we're not musicians, so to put anything together takes quite a while because we don't work solely with chords and notes and all this sort of thing which is an already established structure, "

So what, pray, do they consider themselves, if not musicians?

Mark understandably seems unsure how to answer. "I don't know, I mean, I know the Cabs call themselves audio-visual technicians, or at least that's what they have on their passports. I always put down "artist"; you might think that's pretentious, but that's most established because I'm a painter as well. So I call myself an artist as a cover that allows me to do anything"

The painters paintings reflect, by the way, the same level of "what you give is what you get" that permates all other aspects of their work. Enigma and the ability to perturb.

"I think it's up to other people to stick labels on us, not for us to do."

As a result of their methods, criticism is likely to fall thick and fast, both good and negative. How much heed do they take of criticism that comes their way?

"We take heed of intelligent and creative criticism." Mark pauses for thought and then expands.
"Again, going back to this word "seriousness", we don't take things like reviews seriously because you just can't, like Nort was saying, if you take them seriously you're fucked. If somebody says "This group stink", you can't behave as if your wife and kids have just walked out on you, it's just ludicrous."

In the relatively short time that they've been together as a band, Hula has undergone more than it's fair share of line-up changes. Starting off with a role-call of Ron Wright, Mark Albrow, Alan Fish and Alan Watt - Ron and Mark are the two originals left, Alan Fish and Alan Watt leaving after "Cut From Inside" and "Black Pot Workout" respectively. But the most changeful position in the band has been that of bass player, with no less than 4 people filling that fretters shoes. After Alan Watt left, his place was filled in rapid succession by Mark Brydon (and they say that Sheffield music is not incestuous) and a chap called Chris Brane (Brain - SE). As both these people had outside commitments other than Hula a permanent member had to be found and was in the form of Jon Avery.

Mark takes up the story:
"It's very difficult, 'cos as anybody who works in a group or in a group of people, you have to have the right person and it was a case of us realising we couldn't go on depending on situations, as with Chris Brane and Mark Brydon, because their first priorities were their groups, obviously, so we just started casting our eyes around and keeping our ears open, then Jon Avery came along."

What sort of standards do they set themselves then, in both their recordings and video work?

"Oh, impossible" laughs Mark" . . . . well fairly high obviously because these are the things that people are going to come into contact with."

What about happiness; are they always happy with what they release?

Nort admits he never is but leaves an explanation to Mark.
"Well, I don't think anybody is really, I mean if you achieve perfection then that's it - you can't go anywhere else. If you write the perfect article or, in Dirk Bogarde's case, if you have the perfect role in "Death In Venice", you know you've reached the peak of your career and you know that nothing that comes after it will ever top it."

When I first heard "Murmur" my initial reaction was "here comes the plink plonk brigade" with no regard whatsoever for the sensitive musicians involved. But, as I had to buy it, I decided to get my money's worth before stacking it. With each subsequent listen more and more surfaced until, without realising it, this "Murmur" had worked its way onto my mental re-play list and incidentally can be regarded as one of the best things to come out of '84.

These apparently subliminal workings, I wondered, are thy part of some kind of devious plot?

Mark makes the excuses.
"It's not that self-conscious you see; I think the reason it worked for you like that is because of how we work. We just work intuitively he justifies "so that's why it builds up on different layers and that's why it isn't self-conscious or so specifically designed to . . . . you know, like in some films they play on emotions blatantly so that you know precisely when to laugh and precisely when to cry - the people who've made that film know that and it's designed that way. Where as we don't work like that, we work from the inside, not the outside. So we're just following our noses. We don't really pay attention to "Oh God, this has got to be acceptable on the first listen, we've got to get rid of this and we can't have that and we can't have this." We just don't work like that."

Not the most predictable sound around.

"Well that's good!" exclaims Mark "Otherwise you get into a position which I think maybe we're getting into, which is a very dodgy position, where people are beginning to come to see us because they've heard the records. . . ."

Can this man be serious?

". . . . which we've never had before, so they know some of the stuff already, so they know what to expect. They're coming to a concert with a song or songs in their head, expecting to hear it on stage. That's something we've been getting quite recently and to me it's a bit disturbing."

All very idealistic blah etc., but do they feel they might not be able to live up to teh audience's expectations if they play a recognisable set?

An accusation quickly dismissed by Mark.
"It doesn't worry me actually. I feel that as long as what we're doing is stimulating to us and we're quite happy with it, it doesn't matter about peoples expectations. That's the main priority - to keep yourself going in a creative sense. You've got to keep moving on."

Apart from their record work, vinyl wise, and Mark's paintings, there's another medium with which they express themselves; that of video. And these films of theirs are, seriously, quite disturbing, as regards to how easy they suck you up and play with your imagination. Watching one, and here I must mention that the accompanying music is as much a part of the film as the images themselves, there is a definite feeling of leaving that fully-conscious working state that is the "norm".

So what about these videos?

"Hopefully, before the end of the year, people'll be able to see for themselves. Anyway, it started when we first formed - we decided that we didn't want to present ourselves as four figures on stage because we all found that spectacle of four musicians, or non-musicians, diddling around with things on stage incredibly boring. So we asked Peter Care to shoot some stuff for us, specifically for one or two numbers."

"It was very rudimentary when we set out, but we started to build up a catalogue of films that were specifically for us and not just picked up from junkshops. And then we started to work with him so we'd all be working on the film with Pete doing the technical work because he knew.

"Then Pete gradually got busier and busier and couldn't really afford the time, but by that time we were able to do it ourselves. And then, after Alan Fish left, Nort emerged - Nort had been shooting off films all the time since he was about 13 - so that maintained the impetus as far as film-making goes and we've done all our own since then."

As with all aspects of their work, Mark maintains that "it's got to be fun otherwise what's the point of doing it"

And as a parting shot, as I wander off into a rare Sheffield sunset, Mark gives this: "All we want is some kind of response, no matter whether it's good or bad; whether it's negative or positive, 'cos a strong negative response is a good response. I mean if they hate you that's pretty strong response."