special quaye

UBBING the sleep from his eyes in an anonymous record company office, Finley Quaye is still getting to grips with his newly-minted celebrity. "My video's playing outside? Amazing. Heh, heh! I haven't stopped to look at it... It's too freaky. It is too freaky." Success has come quickly for the 23-year-old reggae star, bringing early morning wake-up calls, endless rounds of interviews and the still-disconcerting experience of being stopped in the street by people who think he looks like Finley Quaye. The one-time scaffolder who spent his life on the move between Scotland, Manchester and London has finally settled in Edinburgh, in a big posh house "with all the solicitors and that". The Scottish capital obviously agrees with this half-Ghanaian, half-Celtic singer with a speaking voice that's pure Mancunian bad lad. "It's fresh, fresh air. Cheaper, nicer fish. I'm a big fish fan, I've got a fish delivery man. Town of the trout. He's got an ice cream van that delivers shark, mackerel, herrings, smoked haddock, oysters, the lot."

Finley (his name means "sunshine" in Gaelic) rolls the words around his mouth like gobstoppers - a trick familiar to anyone who's heard his 100,000-selling debut, 'Maverick A Strike'. A constant babble of conscious nonsense, Finley's lyrics play across glittering rim-shots and warm roots instrumentation, while benevolent pop songs like 'Sunday Shining' and 'Even After All' balance more abstract cascades of dubwise beats and textures, psychedelic phrases and honeyed guitars. But then, Finley Quaye has quite a musical pedigree. He may sing like a young Horace Andy, but Quaye is actually Tricky's uncle (Maxine Quaye, Finley's half-sister, was Tricky's mum and the trip-hop figurehead named his debut album after her).

So is Finley fed up with people going on about... "Tricky? Not fed up. Nothing to say. Don't know im, don't see him, nothing to say."

Finley Quaye cont...