Andy Burrows and Johnny Borrell sit side-by-side in a darkened tour bus rattling in the wind on the Northumberland coast. At 1.30am after their headline set at Lindisfarne Festival, they are due back on the bus to depart for London again.
It’s just like old times – except it’s not.
Come 2006, Razorlight had set the indie-rock scene on fire with their debut album Up All Night with breakout singles Golden Touch and Stumble and Fall, which thrust them from scuzzy, sticky-floored bars into the volatile embrace of critical and commercial success.
‘I couldn’t comprehend the idea of getting bigger,’ says Andy, now 47, with grey beginning to pepper his shaggy drummer-appropriate beard. He puffs on a vape, the only indication he’s not quite as comfortable as his laid-back, softly spoken disposition would have you think.
Frontman Johnny Borrell, 46, tilted forward, eyes alert and searching, oozing confidence, is his opposite. In the 00s, he was a tabloid’s dream, blurting out provocative sweet nothings about Razorlight and committing cultural sacrilege against Bob Dylan. Two decades on and he’s mellowed, with a smile his default setting.
‘What I found quite inspiring and amazing about Johnny was that when we were 23, he seemed to deal with it by going, “Yeah, this is what was going to happen. I’m a f**king star,”’ says Andy, and Johnny doesn’t disagree, but smiles wider.
Twenty years. That’s how long it’s been since Razorlight’s self-titled sophomore album, which, contrary to Burrows’ imagination, saw them explode into the mainstream, becoming 00s indie titans alongside the Arctic Monkeys, Kaiser Chiefs, Franz Ferdinand and The Kooks.
‘In a way, I was surprised that it was as successful as it was,’ says Johnny. ‘I knew that the writing was good… But I did not think that the popular culture, sort of zeitgeist, was going to land exactly on us at that point in time.’
Well, it did. America, still a veritable anthem, shot to number one, while In The Morning reached number three. The album also enjoyed a week on the top spot, before James Morrison’s debut album toppled it. Razorlight, without the sharp edges of Up All Night, prevailed in its turn towards melody over bite.
‘It felt like a big risk, weirdly,’ says Johnny. ‘It’s the sort of NME indie thing to do, where you have a hit first record and then you come back wearing a leather jacket with a bit of stubble looking a bit moodier and doing the slightly darker version of your first record.’
They, quite unintentionally, did the opposite. ‘The songs start to reveal themselves,’ Johnny says, as co-writer Andy nods.
However, the success came about – Johnny is convinced that if America were released now, it would be laughed out of a radio studio for its long guitar intro – both agree it was a ‘f***ing mad’ time.
‘When something’s really successful, you’re just too busy to actually think about it,’ says Johnny, and Andy agrees: ‘That’s true. It’s kind of your safety net in a way.’
Andy misses the 00s craziness like he does a good holiday.
‘It’s impossible to not miss it as a time,’ he says. ‘Also it seems like the world was ever so slightly simpler. But then I think looking back is always simpler because everything’s done and dusted and neatly packed into a box.’
But the holiday soon got out of hand. Andy would ‘go for a wee’ and come back to someone telling them they needed to go to Japan, like, now.
‘You weren’t so bothered about it,’ Andy says to Johnny, ‘but I was always really looking forward to going home and seeing my friends and stuff and that. I mean, I’m not saying you weren’t…,’ he backtracks.
‘No, no,’ Johnny agrees. ‘I didn’t have a home at that point, so I couldn’t care less,’ he adds, grinning wider still. ‘When you’re touring you permanently have this kind of mental breakdown the whole time. But I was like, well, that’s the point, isn’t it? You’re the lead singer in a rock band, you’re not looking for mental stability right now.’
Not armed with the wisdom, sensitivities and communication skills of their 40s and sprinting the hamster wheel of success, the shackles of Razorlight began to clunk and break.
‘You can tell something good is happening and you’re like, “I don’t want to f**k this up,’ reflects Andy of their never-ending schedule. ‘That’s why a lot of our problems happened.’
Then the holiday came to an abrupt end, after an infamous fisticuffs at the Hawley Arms in Camden between the pair. Andy left Razorlight and they wouldn’t speak until 11 years later. The lawyers swarmed with their claws out, but Andy and Johnny parted ways without any of that nastiness.
‘Even when Andy and I fell out, there were huge areas in which we really got each other, which was nice,’ Johnny says.
But emotionally it was fraught.
‘There were a couple of areas where we had a total breakdown of trust, like 0 out of 10 trust, in both directions. That’s tough,’ Johnny says, admitting he wondered if they’d ever be able to rebuild it.
After 11 years, they reunited in 2020 in the South of France, a moment which was captured somewhat awkwardly in their 2022 documentary Razorlight: Fall To Pieces. Did they notice a change in each other?
‘Yeah, he had a very long beard,’ jokes Andy, turning earnest. ‘It was really, really nice to see each other. It was amazing.’
Since reforming alongside the reunited original bandmates Björn Ågren and Carl Delamo (Johnny led an array of line-ups in between), the main aim on their upcoming 20th anniversary tour is to keep doing as many live shows as they can while trying to not ‘kill the band’.
‘I do feel like we’ve tuned back into each other and we’re better at understanding each other,’ says Andy. ‘Not perfect. Who is in terms of a relationship, you know? But I think we’re a lot better. And the amazing thing is that we’re playing and writing together and it’s just a joy. It’s so brilliant.’
Knowing all they know now, what advice would Andy and Johnny give their 2006 selves?
‘I love the idea of a 25-year-old me trying to take advice from anybody,’ laughs Johnny. ‘I’d be scared to get in a room with that guy.’
Andy pauses, grins. ‘I think I agree with your advice to little you,’ he says. ‘I was thinking I’d want to go back and tell us to make sure to take all this in and enjoy it, but I think I did. I think we did. I think we maybe enjoyed it a bit too much.’
Johnny shifts in his seat towards Andy.
‘I say without any cynicism whatsoever, that was one of the most surprising and inspiring things that ever happened to my life was actually rebuilding trust with you. I was like, I didn’t actually think that could happen. But it can,’ he smiles, and Andy smiles back.
Razorlight tour the 20th anniversary of their self-titled album from November, including Wembley Arena on December 4.