McAlmont and Butler: The odd couple

They always were an unlikely pair - the outrageous singer and the shy guitarist - but together McAlmont and Butler made great music. Until their ugly and very public split, that is. Six years on, they're back, and all is forgiven. Or is it? Fiona Sturges finds out

It was 18 months ago that Bernard Butler, the former guitarist in Suede, decided to pick up the phone and bury the hatchet. He hadn't spoken to David McAlmont, the prodigiously talented singer with the three-octave range, for more than six years. The pair, whose brief mid-Nineties partnership yielded the hit singles "You Do" and the Phil Spector pastiche "Yes", had parted company amid the kind of furore that made Geri's departure from the Spice Girls look like a minor tiff. McAlmont publicly annihilated Butler, accusing him of homophobia and vowing never to work with him again.

"That was a right carry-on, wasn't it?" laughs Butler, over a pint in a west-London pub.

"Yes, you were Barbara Windsor and I was Hattie Jacques," says McAlmont with a loud guffaw. "But all that's behind us. I think we're both older and a little wiser now."

After their monumental bust-up, McAlmont, now 35, and Butler, 32, went off to pursue solo careers, with varying degrees of success. Butler signed to Alan McGee's Creation records and released the albums People Move On and Friends and Lovers in 1998 and 1999 respectively. There was a series of side-projects, too, including collaborations with Aimee Mann, Bryan Ferry, Edwyn Collins and the veteran folk singer Bert Jansch. But two years ago Creation records closed down, and Butler suddenly found himself out of work.

"At the start of last year I had no manager, no record label and virtually no money," recalls Butler, ruffling his famous droopy fringe. "I was a real mess. All I was doing was moping about at home and trying to write some decent songs. In the end I phoned up Geoff Travis [head of Rough Trade records] and happened to mention that I wouldn't mind working with David again. He rang me back the next day with David's phone number."

Unbeknown to Butler, McAlmont was also having a career crisis. While he was rarely short of work – as well as making two solo records of his own, A Little Communication and Be, he has worked with the composers David Arnold and Craig Armstrong – things weren't working out as he'd planned. McAlmont had become increasingly frustrated by his record label's bungled attempts to "place" him. When they suggested that he do a remix for a notorious UK garage band, he finally snapped.

"Let's just say I chose not to comply," says McAlmont. "There was nowhere for us to go after that, so I campaigned to get off the label. When I got my termination letter I jumped up and down with joy for two weeks and then got depressed and thought about what I had done. Just at the point where the confusion started to clear, I got a phone call from Bernard."

McAlmont says that he had already been contemplating the possibility of working with Butler again.

"I had been sending covert messages through my interviews. I'd been saying things like, 'I've thought about my behaviour, and I feel really stupid.' But I would never have had the nerve to call him up myself. It's a good thing that he called me."

Their initial partnership began in 1994. Butler had recently left the hugely successful Britpop band Suede, also in acrimonious circumstances, while McAlmont had been trying to establish himself as a solo artist after a stint with the indie duo Thieves. Theirs was always meant to be a temporary association, but the vitriol with which they parted company took everyone, not least themselves, by surprise. Ironically, it was after their split that they scored their biggest hit with "Yes".

Butler seems more comfortable discussing their fall-out than McAlmont. He insists he doesn't hold a grudge.

"There was so much pressure on both of us," says Butler. "I think when we got together I was still feeling wounded from my time with Suede. I wasn't ready to leap straight back in the public eye by then."

So what's different this time around? "It just makes sense," says Butler. "I've always thought that there was unfinished business between us. Then, last year, I was sitting at home with these songs, trying to imagine who should sing them, and David came into my mind. I was motivated by the thought of wanting to make the best music possible, and David's the best singer I know."

It has often been remarked that McAlmont and Butler are one of pop's more unlikely alliances; having spent some time with them, I feel it should be remarked on once more. It's impossible to picture them as friends, let alone collaborators. While McAlmont is eloquent, self-assured and often outrageously funny, Butler is a gentle and slightly nervous individual. You can imagine that, away from the gaze of prying journalists, McAlmont could easily eat the mild-mannered Butler for breakfast and cook up the leftovers for his tea.

For now, though, they are on their best behaviour. Soberly dressed in jeans and T-shirt – a far cry from the lipstick and lurex of old – McAlmont seems a little subdued. Butler, by contrast, is unusually chatty. This is a man who was once famed for his taciturn interview technique, yet today he's polite, cheerful and apparently devoid of all ego. When a group of girls spot him from the other end of the bar and begin to approach en masse, he seems unaware. As McAlmont's eyes widen in alarm, they are quickly seen off by the tour manager.

When I ask McAlmont and Butler what draws them together, they seem momentarily stumped. After a long pause, McAlmont states: "It's interesting to think of how the reputations of certain artists go into decline when they lose their partners. I'm thinking about Bacharach and Sager, as opposed to Bacharach and David. It's really hard to define what Bernard and I do. I can only say it's chemistry. It really works. He's got this raw soul quality that brings out the best in me. If I could have arranged for it to work out better on my own, then the truth is that we might not be working together now. But something amazing happens when the two of us get together, and I believe that's reason enough to do it."

Are you friends? "I don't think you can spend that much time on your own together in a studio if you're not," he replies sharply.

After a year spent writing and rewriting songs and honing melodies together, the pair have finally come up with their new album, Bring it Back. It's a collision of soul and rock, but mostly soul music. While none of the songs quite matches the towering perfection that was "Yes", tracks such as "Blue", "Sunny Boy" and, in particular, "Where R U Now?" offer glimpses of their old genius, with McAlmont's soaring vocals perfectly counterbalanced by Butler's guitar-rock instincts.

They won't be drawn into discussing the possibility of another quarrel, though Butler concedes: "If there comes a time, in five years or five weeks or even five days, when we say we want to go our separate ways, that's fine."

"At some point I may want to go to Mongolia and do a throat-singers album," McAlmont adds. "If I choose to do that, then I think Bernard's going to have to let me go."

The single 'Falling' is out on Monday. 'Bring it Back' is released on EMI Chrysalis on 12 August