Justin Currie rolls into town for a show at Shank Hall

There are certain songs that sound like summer. With warmer weather approaching, one of those songs -- Del Amitri's bouncy 1995 hit "Roll to Me" -- will soon blare over ballpark speakers and from car stereos.

The man who wrote that song, Justin Currie, visits Milwaukee for a solo show Friday night at Shank Hall.

In the six years since Del Amitri disbanded, Currie jokes that he spent time watching TV and drinking at pubs, but he also took time to craft a brilliantly bitter collection of breakup songs called "What is Love For."

We caught up with Currie, a friend of OnMilwaukee.com managing editor Bobby Tanzilo, for an e-mail interview this week:

OnMilwaukee.com: You've played in Milwaukee a few times before. Do you have any memories of previous visits?

Justin Currie: Well, we always seemed to hit Milwaukee the day after partying a little too hard in Chicago, which either made for killer shows or slightly jaded ones. The very first time we played on our "fan" tour in '86 (partly organized by a member of your staff it should be pointed out), I remember somebody was shot outside the club we were performing at during our show and we had to wheel the gear around the yellow police tape. We thought this was terribly glamorous, having seen such things previously only in movies.

OMC: Does Milwaukee in particular or the Midwest in general remind you of any place in Europe? Is there a difference in how fans respond at shows in different regions of the U.S. and Europe?

JC: Downtown Milwaukee actually reminded me a little of Glasgow when I first saw it in the '80s; the same decaying post-industrial infrastructure but the outlying residential areas are more reminiscent of Germany perhaps than anywhere in the U.K. Any band will tell you that U.S. audiences are much more (inter)active and vocal during shows than Europeans who tend to reserve any emphatic appreciation for the end of the show. That means that you can really hone your act in the U.S. more than anywhere else in the world, because you are given constant feedback from the crowd.

OMC: What kind of show can people expect at Shank Hall?

JC: A dirge-filled hour fueled by bitterness and envy. With tunes.

OMC: What is the dynamic like as a solo performer as opposed to being in a band, with that "us against them" type of spirit?

JC: It's completely different. A band has to be a united front -- you try not to embarrass one another by stepping into some metaphorical spotlight and really telling it like you see it. You have total license as a solo artiste to make a total arse of yourself without having to feel guilty that you've dragged the rest of your brothers through some mire of pretension or pompousness. Go solo! It's your license to be pompous!

OMC: In that vein, what's it like to have first and final say in the recording process, as opposed to the more democratic setup in a band?

JC: The liberating aspect is you get to make your own mistakes and don't have to go along with somebody else's for reasons of diplomacy. Of course, what constitutes a mistake is utterly subjective and the great advantage of a band is that if an idea passes the filtering process of four different sensibilities, then it must be pretty robust. It could also be very safe.

OMC: What was the dominant emotion while you were making "What is Love For?" Was it one of liberation and excitement, or was it more a case of self-doubt and "I hope this goes over ... I hope I don't piss off the fan base?"

JC: Oh, Christ, if you give two hoots for what the ostensible fan base might think you're dead in the water. Firstly, you can never second guess what a disparate group of people may or may not like and secondly, your responsibility is to the work only and if the work is valid, it will make its own audience. As for a dominant emotion -- I'm Scottish and we don't do emotions, or certainly ever admit to having had one. All I remember is knowing there was this thing inside wanting out and who was I to stop it?

OMC: How satisfying is it that the disc was received well by critics? I imagine the Dels probably would have loved to have had some of those reviews.

JC: Ha! Ha! There lies the rub. The cliché runs that good reviews won't keep you warm at night and the Dels used to scoff at their critical failure in light of their commercial success (which was modest but enormously enjoyable and vindicating). There were a few reviews of this record that got so close to what I was trying to do that, looking back, they DO keep me warm at night! Such is the nature of the artist's fragile ego ... approval? We'll take any we can get.

OMC: What's the relationship like with the band these days? Are you guys in touch? Anything in the hopper since the new tunes showed up on MySpace a few months back?

JC: If I had a hopper I'd tell you. For new songs, I'd die for just a bucket, an ashtray. We three mainstays of DA: Andy (Alston), Iain (Harvie) and myself see one another socially and I am still writing with Iain. We just don't really know what we are anymore. We're not a band, that's for sure. Perhaps we are a loose collective or better still a kind of ex-serviceman's club of three.

OMC: What kind of music interests you these days? What's in the iPod as you make your way from show to show?

JC: My iPod serves me up episodes of "South Park" on planes, a series I regard as the greatest satirical writing anywhere in the last 10 years with the exception of Chris Morris' "Jaam." Music? Sometimes it pains me, others it fills me with an uncomprehending joy. I'm bored with music I simply admire -- I demand to be astonished. That's the essential difference between the Gnarls Barkley album and, say, "Electric Ladyland." Does that make me sound like an old fart? At least I didn't mention Beethoven.