Kasabian’s sacking of singer Tom Meighan for assault is sensible and respectful. Their flimsy statement, produced 24 hours before Meighan’s conviction, is something else entirely…
The old adage ‘one phone call can change your life’ certainly has some truck with John Paul Pitts. Or, to be more precise, Pitts’ girlfriend.
It had been a balmy March evening in Florida and Pitts’ spirits should have been in the ascendency. His band, Surfer Blood, had swiftly risen from scuzzy upstarts to the opening act of some of alternative rock’s most celebrated statesmen (Pixies and Interpol being just two).
A deal with Warner Bros had been freshly inked; legendary producer Gil Norton had signed on to produce their sophomore album. Life was sweet. Pitts and his partner soaked up this good news on a night out and, upon returning home, the latter decided to call a friend.
This was where Pitts’ life – and the career trajectory of his band – would change forever.
His girlfriend knew the signs. First, Pitts retreated angrily to the bathroom and threatened to harm himself. It wasn’t a new tactic. Their arguments had always been explosive, but they could handle the sparks – others just needed to stay out the way. This time, though, did seem different. The threat of violence became overpowering.
Now, Pitts laughed at her usual defences – that she would call the police, that she’d hit back. Soon she could not speak – Pitts’ fingers were in her mouth. She kicked, prodded, bit. Anything to try and wriggle free of Pitts’ force.
By the time the cops did show up, both looked like they’d taken a shortcut home through a boxing club.
The promising career, the threat of commercial penetration, the slew of support slots with rock music’s best and brightest. All were about to unravel, slowly, painfully, rightfully.
Surfer Blood made the decision to stick by their singer, but the damage was irreparable.
Reviewers struggled to separate the streamlined grunge of their second album from the assault case. Others simply refused to review it at all. Warner Bros quietly dropped them from their roster shortly after.
For all of Pitts’ apologies, the stain had proved indelible – even five years on from the assault case, people were picketing venues in protest against booking a noted assaulter.
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Eight years after Pitts’ assault, British rock heavyweights Kasabian found themselves in a similar contretemps. Their singer, Tom Meighan, was found guilty of assaulting his partner in a drunken rage. His bandmates quickly produced a statement distancing themselves from both their frontman and his behaviour; “We were left with no choice but to ask Tom to leave the band,” it read. “We cannot condone his assault conviction – domestic violence and abuse of any kind is unacceptable. “As soon as we found out about the charges made against Tom, we as a band made the decision that we could no longer work with him.”
They made the right choice. The only downside was that, just 24 hours earlier, Kasabian had issued a very different kind of statement, one that only, in hindsight, enflamed fans’ rage further.
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Whoever logged into Twitter to break the news of Tom Meighan’s parting of ways from Kasabian must now be, at the very least, deeply reflective.
The news of Tom Meighan leaving Kasabian, after all, would be another shocking event in a year chock full of them. Kasabian had cockily taken the crown that had been rusting on Oasis’ moptop and ran with it. They were heirs to the gut and thrust of arena everyman rock. Meighan and his faithful axeman, Serge Pizzorno, had the swagger, the verve, the attitude, the flair.
They also had the songs. Pizzorno gave Meighan a rich canvas of swashbuckling riffs, huge choruses and the room to become a frontman that could have thousands at Glastonbury eating out of the palm of his hand.
2020 looked set to be another triumphant year. There was a homecoming gig booked in Leicester. Recording dates in the diary. Meighan, shorn of hair and sharp of cheekbone, seemed confident, calm, content.
The statement that Kasabian produced on Monday 6 July announcing Meighan’s departure remains as baffling, devastating, irritating and downright insulting as it did that fateful morning the band hit ‘send tweet’.
“Tom Meighan is stepping down from Kasabian by mutual consent. Tom has struggled with personal issues that have affected his behaviour for quite some time and now wants to concentrate all his energies on getting his life back on track. We will not be commenting further.”
People did not have the access to leave comments or queries. Fans were left to make their own minds up – “mutual consent” suggested inter-band squabbling, but the rest of the statement moulded Meighan as the victim.
Fans’ tweets were of a similar ilk – Kasabian without Tom just isn’t Kasabian. I hope he comes back stronger. Mental health is a bitch. We’re rooting for you, Tom.
Some music publications produced lengthy thought pieces rallying in support of Meighan and hailing his genius.
When news of Meighan’s assault charge broke, these people felt like they had been taken for fools. After the fact, the statement is vague, unnecessary and manipulative. It created a frenzied outpouring of support and empathy for someone that had just left a courtroom for beating up his partner.
Some suggest the statement was Kasabian’s opportunity to announce the separation on their own terms, before the tabloid reports of Meighan’s court case became apparent.
The wording of said statement – at best clumsy, at worst contriving – is only fuel to the fire.
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Much has been made of Meighan’s paltry sentence, but he has paid a heavy price – he will no longer be the loose-limbed, uproarious engine powering Kasabian at stadiums across the country.
As for the rest of Kasabian, change happens. Pixies have lost Kim Deal. Teenage Fanclub have lost Gerard Love. Both have gone on to record and tour successfully.
It’s unlikely Kasabian will now face the same fate as Surfer Blood did so many years ago, but the blundering way they have handled their singer’s inexcusable behaviour will leave a bad taste in many fans’ mouths.
Words by Sam Lambeth