Captain Wilberforce: No, not the chap from Hull who bought about the end of the slave trade, this one’s the mild-mannered giant whose second full-length album Everyone Loves A Villain has become the unexpected slow-burner of the year. “Every band has a song that takes them beyond the ordinary,” he tells Spencer Bayles. “Even Whigfield.”

Not many Leeds acts would consciously label themselves ‘power-pop’, mostly because that tag has often lacked a little of the zing and other-worldly coolness that its slightly less knowing cousin ‘indie’ has in spades. And the ultra-vague ‘alternative’ doesn’t cut the mustard. “You can’t call yourself ‘alternative’ because there are too many others out there,” suggests Simon Bristoll – aka Captain Wilberforce – when trying to describe where his own records slot into the music genre pool, “so ‘power-pop’ fits. But who else is power-pop in Leeds?”

While it’s true that exponents of old-school guitar-pop are a little thin on the ground around these parts, the Captain’s recent album ‘Everyone Loves A Villain’ may well go some way in changing that. A pop album with brains and heart, it has everything from grown-up ideas on relationships to a closing lament inspired by Stephen Hawking’s thoughts on the universe. Not your average pop record then. 

Formerly a member of Theory Of Everything, a Birmingham rock band that split when the rest of its members’ interest waned – their album ‘The Failure Of Arithmetic’ is available as a free download on Myspace – Simon moved to Leeds in 2004 to develop his alter-ego and seek fresh fortunes. His first gig here was an acoustic opening slot at the Tea Time Shuffle. “After never getting a single live review, that one gig resulted in three. I remember thinking, ‘This is the holy grail of places to play!’” 

‘Everyone Loves A Villain’, this year’s follow-up to his debut ‘Mindfilming’, is equal parts classic British pop and punchy American power-pop, from the Kinks-y title track to the Jellyfish-tinged ‘Born Again Brand New Man’. Add in songs like the beautifully string-laden ballad ‘The Girl Who Broke Her Own Heart’ and you have the kind of album likely to be loved and mulled over by fans of classic pop for the foreseeable future. And what is that elusive target demographic? “I get 18-year-olds leaving nice messages on the Myspace page,” he says, “but I think it’s most likely to be 25-50-year-olds raised on Squeeze, the Beatles and Elliott Smith.” 

While those bands certainly jump out as reference points when listening to the album, Simon lists key influences as being more leftfield acts such as Husker Du, The Replacements and the Meat Puppets. “My musical programming is the Beatles, and they’re all massive Beatles fans as well,” he reckons, “but what they’ve done is take it in a different, heavier direction, whereas I’ve just carried on the tradition.”

When it comes down to it though, he admits to being more of a song person than a band person, to which he applies a perhaps overly optimistic theory. “Every band has one song which has something about it that takes them beyond the ordinary,” he suggests. “Even Whigfield.”

‘Everyone Loves A Villain’ was put together in various homely locations; the drums were recorded in what is now his child’s bedroom – “We have no neighbours, which is useful” – and the vocals in his brother’s basement. It was then mixed and mastered over the course of a year by Carl Rosamond at Billiard Room. But what about those who grumble it’s all a bit too clean-cut? “Some reviewers have said that it could do with being a bit rougher, but it means it can be played across the board, and people can ‘get’ the songs and hear the lyrics.” 

Mild controversy surrounded the method of initial release – as a free download only available to members of the Leeds Music Forum. Some regular contributors feared it might see an influx of fair-weather forumites who’d scarper as soon as they got the freebie. “If I was a bigger act, like the Kaiser Chiefs for example, and I wanted to give something back to the ‘scene’ that had contributed to my success, giving away a free single to members of the forum would be a great thing to do. You’d get loads of people to the forum and it would build it up,” Simon says. “As they’re not likely to do that, I thought I would. So I went to town on publicising it, spreading the word about the album and the site. Some people complained, but it worked for me – it got a lot of people listening to the album who otherwise wouldn’t have done.” 

Simon has realistic yardsticks for measuring success. “As a band it’s all about little victories. If a band you like says they like your album, that’s a little victory. If you play some gigs and people spread the word and you sell a few CDs, that’s another little victory.” A stamp of approval from an influential website or two can help, too. “The American power-pop website Notlame really took to the album – they put it on their front page and sold bunches of copies in the States.” Are there enough anglophile pop fans there to justify going over to play some shows? “No chance,” he laughs, “but it’s nice being a big fish in a small pond.” 

So does he find Leeds to be a hotbed of originality and inspiration? “Well, everyone in Birmingham wanted to be Oasis or Ocean Colour Scene,” he says, “and even when I came to Leeds, a lot of things sounded stereotypically indie, but I think it’s diversified a lot since.” On the whole, he’s not overwhelmed by what he’s heard. “I don’t think I’ve seen a band from Leeds that has really blown me away, apart from maybe Four Day Hombre at the Leeds Music Awards a few years ago.” 

Certainly, FDH (now Hope & Social) would be one of only a few Leeds bands that apply the same level of sheer song-craft to their work as is displayed across the songs on ‘Everyone Loves A Villain’. The tale told in ‘Confetti, Champagne and Roses’ for example, where the heroine’s peers have all paired off and got engaged, might come across like an Eleanor Rigby-style lament, before the big twist at the end – she’s only 16 and so actually has all the time in the world to settle down. But having well-drawn characters is only half of it, and the songs succeed because they’re set to the kind of melodies that are at once memorably original but at the same time reminiscent of Lennon and McCartney’s finer moments. This isn’t surprising though, as some of Simon’s earliest musical memories are of listening to his parents’ Beatles records, not fussed about learning the guitar riffs but “wanting to find out why the melody worked over the chords.” Even now, the rationale remains: “There has to be some kind of hook that pulls me in.” 

Lyrically, don’t go looking for insights into his psyche. “I tend to be more of an observer as a songwriter – reading about or watching people’s lives. There’s really not a lot of me in the songs,” he admits, “but I’m usually writing with someone particular in mind.”

So you’re not the guy in ‘No Strings Or Ties’, going from one emotionless, guilt-free relationship to the next (‘There’s no one to find out, or get hurt, you just use me when you’re bored, no strings or ties, and in the morning I’m gone’)? “No, that one’s more about a type of person. I originally pictured it as a Roxy Music song – I could picture Bryan Ferry singing it!”

There is, of course, a definite line between writing meaningful lyrics that resonate, and turning into James Blunt. “It’s about making songs personal to other people without going into the whole emotionless Coldplay thing, which is big and bombastic but really vague. I can see why people buy into it, but when you listen to the lyrics they make no sense.” What’s the antidote? “Give me Elvis Costello or Elliott Smith, someone who thinks about what they’re putting down on paper.” 

With the world put to rights, I end by asking about his personal Leeds music highlights of 2008, with which he struggles before settling on The Lodger and Napoleon IIIrd. “’Hit Schmooze For Me’ made my pulse race”. 

Any new year’s resolutions? “I’m still aiming to write a ‘whistle at the kitchen sink’ song,” he says. “But then again you can whistle ‘One Armed Scissor’ by At The Drive-In”. 

And finally, how about a seasonal message for the Vibrations readership?

“Buy my album for someone you love this Christmas!”