The Toi: The Best Kept Secret In Rock?

Releasing a smoking hot debut album should guarantee fame and fortune beyond a band's wildest dreams, but the music business is rarely that fair and rewarding. Just ask The Toi, a superb rock outfit from Glasgow who, in spite of recently delivering a widely lauded bow 'Water Into Wine', are still fighting for that elusive big break.

Named after a Glaswegian street gang, The Toi – pronounced 'Toy' - have been on something of a rollercoaster ride since school friends and footballing buddies Paul Healy, Andy Carr and Stevie ‘Dog’ McLay came together in 2011.  

Things were progressing nicely when Nick Brine, who had previously engineered records by Oasis and Teenage Fanclub, and Dan Hawkins of The Darkness began working with them on that first statement. A showcase for passionate, anthemic stadium rock with a healthy dose of blue collar attitude, immaculately crafted melodies and sizzling guitar work, ‘Water Into Wine’ is the year's best under the radar rock record.

On the flip side, the band - who have recently added virtuoso guitarist Connor Williamson to their number - are still struggling to get their foot in the door. We spoke to Healy about their debut and exactly what challenges they're up against, including how serious illness nearly derailed them.     

Classic Rock magazine said your album is 'the perfect backdrop to cruising California’s highways in a convertible with the summer sun beating down'. How does a band from Glasgow sound like that?  

Most of my teenage years were spent listening to bands like Journey, Guns N' Roses, Bon Jovi, Def Leppard. I think I was 26 before I realised Def Leppard were from Sheffield. I'm exaggerating, I knew they were, but how did those guys sound like that? That was an inspiration for me. They just sounded so American, so stadium.

One of my pet hates is Scottish folk that sound like Scottish folk. The Proclaimers can get away with it because that's their niche, but Paolo Nutini - who sings in that horrible Scottish accent – Twin Atlantic…I just find it really cringeworthy. When we went to Germany people said: 'When you sing we understand perfectly, when you to speak we understand nothing.' Music's international, I want people to hear the lyrics and understand.

In contrast, your lyrics have a Glaswegian grit about them. They're not all about rock ‘n’ roll excess.

No, definitely not. And that's something we're conscious of because we aren't out snorting lines of coke off hookers’ pants. We really are all about music, there's no bullshit with us. It's not about image or partying. Of course we have a good time, but how many albums have you heard where it's all ‘girls, girls, girls, gimme all your love tonight’? That's fine, but there's a line you can't really cross that borders on parody. You have to be more subtle. You can write songs with all that stuff, but it should also be accessible for kids. It can be covert and then you grow up and go: 'Ah, right.'

When you formed, what was your goal?

To put a smile on people's faces, write good songs and entertain people. Every band that I've played with, with one or two exceptions, there's very few that look happy on stage. Even on television, Chris Martin or Paolo Nutini, none of them look that happy. People on Jools Holland, it makes me feel physically sick watching it. When you go and see Whitesnake and Bon Jovi, it's the show. We're happiest when performing and I think people see that and that makes them happy.

How did you hook up with Nick and Dan?

We were emailing different studios and came across Leeders Farm, which was Nick's home studio. Andy emailed him, thinking we're never going to hear from this guy, he's in the middle of doing the new Darkness album, and he got back to us within a day. We sent him a demo we'd done of Down By The River and he said I like the track, why don't we come down and do a three track EP? Dan thought it was the mutt's nuts and said: ‘Tell them not to release it, they have to make an album.'

That must have been an education?  

It was completely mindblowing to the point where it's made us such better players. You can't fail to learn when you're working with people like that. Their ideas for arrangements, they're just subtle things. Down By The River, we recorded the first intro and first verse at 94 beats per minute, the pre chorus goes to 95 because it doesn't sound right all the same pace. But that one beat per minute for the rest of the song gives it that natural...how do they hear that? We've got all the tools now and I think the next album’s songwriting is night and day compared to the first.        

Get On It was originally launched as a teaser for the new record in 2013. Why has it taken so long to get the album out?

We had two publishing deals offered to us and had to get them looked at by legal people. The first one turned out to be a bit rough, the second even worse. Basically, we wouldn't have been able to own our own material for 25 years, and would have been tied to them. There were so many clauses, they were shafting us at every turn and the advance wasn't worth taking, because obviously it had to be paid back and we were never going to be able to. So we postponed that.  

By spring/summer 2014 we thought we'd do another single. And in the process of getting the single ready Stevie and his fiancée got pregnant, Andy joined Gun and I got diagnosed with cancer. I had to go for major surgery and then radiotherapy. So between that, being skint, living from the scraps from the Glasgow gig circuit, having no financial support, no management. All that combined meant for a bit of a shitstorm, but we're out of the other side now and sounding better than ever.

How did you learn you were sick?  

Me and my girlfriend were visiting family in Ireland last summer. I'm not feeling great, lying on the couch and my missus, she's playing with my neck, felt this big lump. I went for tests and the consultant said: 'Do you want the good or the bad news?' 'The good news.' 'Your vocal cords look as if you've never sang a note in your life.' 'What's the bad news?' 'You've got cancer.'

I just started laughing because there was a voice in my head that told me, in its infinite wisdom: 'Paul, you're going to go through a shitstorm, brace yourself.' I kind of accepted it. I've never stopped carrying on, joking about it. The guys slag me off, they have a laugh about it: 'There's nothing wrong with him...it's just a sore throat he's had. Agh, poor Healy, I've got cancer.'

What was the prognosis?  

It was caught early, it was very treatable. I said: ‘I'm a singer, how's this going to affect that?' The consultant said: 'There is a risk, you might have hoarseness for a few weeks, then again some people's vocal chords are damaged irreparably. But Rod Stewart had this done to him and he still sings.’ If anything, because of where the cancer was – impinging on my vocal chords – I've actually gained notes to my range and my control is a lot better. I'm now starting with a personal trainer to get fit, I'll be going back to work very soon and then it'll hopefully just be a case of getting my all clear in May.  

Might that influence the direction of your second album?

The new songs, the basic demos we've done, we're really excited. It's all the melody and anthemic nature of the first record, refined and taken to the next level. And none of those songs to this day have any reference to cancer. It probably will play a part somewhere, but I'm triumphant. I've won this thing and it's not going to be 'poor me I've had cancer'. Fuck that. I want to inspire people. When you've come through that, struggling to get a record deal or on to a tour puts everything in perspective: 'I've fucking beaten cancer, winning the hearts and minds of an audience is fucking easy.' To get a second chance and be able to still write, perform and sing songs, that's how I know I'm not meant to give up. It's unfinished business. I need to do this.

Are you still unsigned?    

We're doing it all ourselves and this is what I can't understand. We've had so many great reviews, so much great feedback. People from Germany, Poland, Russia, Mexico, America, Canada buying CDs via Paypal. It's like we're the best kept secret in the whole of the fucking country. It's somewhat frustrating but I'm sure we'll get our break. We work too hard for a door not to open. We're looking for somebody to represent us, we're looking for people to book us.

Can you achieve what you want in Glasgow or might you have to relocate to London?

If we can make it financially viable, then I would say London is the obvious place. It's an amazing city, but to go and work there is just so expensive. I don't know how we go about doing it. Realistically, if we're ever going to be at the top of the tree, we'd have to relocate to somewhere more central because London is where trends are set. We just need to get a break, get on a support slot. We need guided, we need help, we need a miracle. We're waiting on a sunny day. The Boss!

You've supported H.E.A.T and are playing with The Amorettes this week, surely that's a good opportunity to get your name out there?

We're looking to get on more support bills but it's really hard, nobody seems willing to give you a chance. There's bands we know that don't have day jobs, don't work hard at their craft, spend most of their time in the pub, but they've got wealthy people backing them. Not necessarily signed to management or nothing, but they've got people buying them on to tours. They seem to be getting the breaks purely because of who they know, or who their money men know. So we're somewhat at a loss with regards how we go about progressing.

How would you sell yourselves to people?

We know we're good. You don't work with people of this calibre and have them respect you if you're crap or mess about. We take pride in our songwriting, and have a work ethic. Having a website, which we're getting built now, helps to an extent. But the only way to earn your stripes is to go and work your arse off on the live circuit. We don't have pyro, we don't have lights, we don't have production per se. But what we do have is a real live band, tight as anything and singing songs people can relate to.

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