DMW: Digital Music W...

Here's another interview from my past that I never had a chance to publish until now. The interview was conducted at Capitol Records offices in Midtown during the sweltering June summer heat of 1996. I still have their single "Girl, Kill Your Boyfriend" sitting in one of my desk drawers. The cover art is funny. There's a giant muscle-bound lady looking ready to kill her boyfriend. So why am I putting this up now? Because I want to. The band is still around. They do have a homepage at the figgs dot net but what I wanted to show was that moment in time when I was sitting in the room with them. I want the reader to feel the urgency, like they did. To feel how it was like then to try and break through all the noise of the late 90s. It was tough -- I don't need to remind you that. Long before MySpace and YouTube, there was just the good 'ol fashioned zine, burgeoning Internet radio and FM rock radio.

********* June, 1996, Capitol Records, New York City
The Figgs are lounging in the entertainment room of Capitol Records’ midtown Manhattan office. White walls - white screen walls that show silhouettes of publicists working next door and the central air conditioner blasting cold air through out, gives the impression that they are either sitting in a mental institute, a Japanese restaurant, or a modern art museum. In this clean and white environment, the band wakes up from their mid-day nap as I sat in the leather love seat next to them and tried to cool off from the 70 degree weather. Guitarist/vocalist Mike Gent is still lying on his back, weighted down by the artificial cold air in the room. Hailing from Saratoga Springs, New York, The Figgs release Banda Macho on Capitol Records. Capitol picked up the band after their former label Imago Records abandoned them for practically anyone to sign with. Their last project with now-defunct Imago called Low-Fi at Society Hi, gave the band enough of an impression on critics that it was hailed as a band’s answer to there’s-no-such-thing-as-alternative theory. Critics have labeled The Figgs as Elvis Costello meets The Clash. If that’s true, then why does the band seem more inclined to record in different styles and sounds rather than being stagnant with one particular sound?

“The main difference is,” says guitarist/vocalist Guy Lyons, “the songs on the last record were really old to us and when we went in to record them, we had already recorded a couple times, they’ve been on other things. Whereas for this record, we went in with a batch of songs that we hardly played out. So, I think maybe the performances are a bit more inspire-sounding. We’re a bit more excited about making this record, I think. Not to say we don’t like Low Fi...”

By this time, the band is fully awake and Gent takes a seat at the empty leather love sofa across from bassist/vocalist Pete Donnelly and drummer Pete Hayes. Donnelly continues where Lyons left off, “It’s just the material was older and it wasn’t fresh to us. And we were a little intimidated, I think. We were working with a big producer; our first record on a major has gotta be right. For this record, our relationship with the label was falling apart. We were on our own so we felt free to just do as we wish and not be worried about anything.”

“Yeah there’s a big difference. I guess Don (Gehman) is...,” says Lyons.

“...successful...,” concludes Gent. Lyons laughs and then eases up to continue, ”...yeah. I think the biggest difference is that for this record we were looking at it as if we were in a partnership with Eric, like we were producing it together. So we both had equal input.” Does this mean The Figgs had a love spat with producer Don Gehman (who also produced R.E.M.’s Life’s Rich Pageant and John Mellencamp’s Scarecrow) on the last album? “No,” says Donnelly. “Various members of the band sat behind the board more (on this) than we did during the Don sessions. Don was more in control of the sounds in the last record. Where (for) this record we told Eric...”

“He knew what he was doing at that time,” finishes Lyons.

Banda Macho is not The Yes Album or a Genesis album. It is 17 songs of fast tempo rock ‘n roll sometimes dabbled in confusion with punk. It’s Beaver Cleaver on acid. “Guy, Mike, and I wrote all the songs for this record,” says Donnelly. All the lyrics are well written and quite sardonic if not tainted with wit. “Whoever sings it wrote it,” says Gent. Donnelly then laughs, “Except for ‘Kiss of Baby’. It’s supposed to be ‘Kiss Off, Baby’. That’s our perfume scent.” The band laughs as we continue to freeze in this corporate ice box. I shouldn’t be complaining. It is after all 70 degrees in midtown Manhattan; and this interview could’ve been conducted in the worst places like on board a tour bus in the middle of a Nor’Easter. Gent suddenly shot up from the sofa and went down on all fours so to talk closer into the recorder. “We try to play different kinds of music. On the next record, it’ll probably be a tango or bossanova.”

The first time I met Mike Gent was back in February when Eve’s Plum performed at the Metro Lounge in Long Branch, New Jersey on Grammy Awards night. Instead of protesting about fucking the alternative music scene or being an usher at the awards, he was the band’s guest guitarist. It was cold that evening, so cold that we found warmth by sitting on top of each other while Amanda Kravat of Marry Me Jane took a snapshot of us. Gent is good friends with lead vocalist Colleen Fitzpatrick and guitarist Mike Kotch of Eve’s Plum and the three are currently doing a studio recording under the guise of The Dirty Mags. “It’s not really a side project,” explains Gent. “Originally it was Colleen and myself and someone else but Mike was into playing it and was a better guitarist. The Dirty Mags is a go-go band. These two (pointing at Donnelly and Hayes) were making out with models.” Donnelly grins as he looks to me in order to validate his integrity. “I worked on another record.” For every band that is friends with another band, there has to be enemies. It’s part of the food chain of the entertainment industry. “Out of a lot of people who like us there’s probably 3x’s as many people who hate us. I overheard someone say ‘Ah, I know The Figgs. You either go to see them or you’re fucking them,” says Gent.

“The N.Y. press hates us,” continues Donnelly. “I don’t really understand why ‘cause I don’t feel like we’re that forward enough even to be hated. I don’t hate something unless it’s so obviously set up or contrived. I don’t think we’re a contrived band. I guess somebody thinks we are. We’re not just thrown together to be a style. We’re a real band.” Donnelly suddenly had this look of anger that was dormant at the start of the interview. They’re intimidated by the press that seems to act fickle whenever a concert review is written about them. The group is still in search of real success. They want to see an empty spot where their c.d. is suppose to be in the bands-that-start-in-the-letter-F section. They also don’t mind hearing their tracks on the radio every so often.

“I want my career to last. I don’t need to be a huge star. If we sell tons of records, I wouldn’t be complaining. Capitol wants us to sell tons of records. But I just want a career.

"I mean, we put 17 songs on there and the label thought it was a little long but we didn’t put out a record for two years. We thought people should have just a little bit more.”

Banda Macho does not disappoint rockers who like to swing to songs like ”Blame it all Senseless,” “Girl, Kill Your Boyfriend,” and “FTMU”. It’s hard to say that The Figgs sound like Elvis Costello or The Clash or even Joe Jackson. They are not Live. The Figgs can’t be classified. “That is the most intelligent thing I’ve heard all day,” compliments Hayes about my comment on their sound.

“I don’t want to tour with super tough guy bands. I want a band that attracts girls as well as guys. I couldn’t take it if we’re playing in front of a pit full of 14 year-old boys (band laughs). It’s weird, man.

“I don’t feel macho enough to do it,” answers Lyons. “That’s why we called the album Banda Macho,” exudes Hayes.

So what is the problem with listeners today? “I think the problem is they say producers make hits and that’s what people believe. But the band makes the hits. I don’t know. If labels allow bands to be more of themselves, then the music would be more dimensional,” says Donnelly. One thing is for certain about The Figgs, they might never have an opportunity to record out of sheer freedom again like they had with this c.d. “A good example is the Beck song ‘Loser’. He did that by himself on like a four-track or something and it sounds good enough. But the thing that everybody remembered was the song,” says Lyons.

“And people pretty much identify with feel and lyrics,” concludes Donnelly. “That was one of our goals. It just didn’t sound like any other record out today.” “We just didn’t want to sound like another band from L.A.,” laughs Gent as we spent the remainder of the interview trying to figure out what songs Elvis Presley would’ve covered if he were alive today. The guys started singing Temple of the Dog’s ‘Hunger Strike’ in Presley faux pas. Scary.

**********
Click here to see where The Figgs will perform. They will be at CMJ this year. See their schedule for details. They will have a new studio album out on Nov 14, 2006 called Follow Jean Through the Sea.

Posted by Amanda Nanawa on October 14, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (1)

So for the longest time, I never had the opportunity to print some of these interviews that I conducted in the mid-late '90s. I was in the middle of trying to launch an online zine at the time and working on a couple of feature films.

But enough with those excuses. I will now have available the interview I conducted with The Black Crowes drummer Steve Gorman when the band stopped over The Stone Pony for a show back in 1996 ('96!). The opening band at that time was BR5-49. That was a damn good show. Below is an excerpt from the interview:

Most of the songs deal with drug abuse such as “Nebekanezer”. What are the band’s thoughts on drug abuse in the music industry today?

“Nebekanezer” is just really about... it’s not saying don’t do Heroine, it’s more like saying if you’re gonna do Heroine, you better at least understand: a.) you’re not stronger – that’s the one! You’re not gonna beat itand don’t lie about it. Heroine is the grossest drug because people start shooting it and they’re like yeah, I’m not a junkie. It’s like yeah you are. Once you get into there, you’re not a junkie till you shoot...four times a day? I think Heroine is like dog shit. Even if you get a little on your shoe It’s still dog shit. Drugs are like vegetables, someone once said. You know, some people like them - some don’t. If you let the drugs do you, then that’s the problem and it’s not cool.

Full interview:

Steve Gorman, drummer of The Black Crowes, recounts the story of a band, a house, and its really cool vibe (it had
mystical powers beyond anyone’s imagination).

-The Stone Pony, Asbury Park, NJ

During their 1996 North American summer tour, The Black Crowes decided to make a stop over the Jersey shore and grace Jerseyans with their newfound enrichment on music, friendship, and life.
Drummer Steve Gorman took time out from sound check to sit and talk about the album, Three Snakes and One Charm, and the band’s reaffirmation on life priorities.

Digital Music W...: Three Snakes and One Charm had a bluesy, soulful sound whereas Amorica had a hard rock driven sound. Was that the intention of the band?

Steve Gorman: No. We don’t have an intention ever, I think, for a sound. There’s certain vibes, I think, that records have. I mean, Amorica was a very aggressive and sort of dark vibe, you know. The band was pretty unhappy right then. And we wanted every sound to be in your face and just force it. Even on stuff like “High Head Blues”, which is laid back as it might feel, it also has just a nervous, not twitchy nervous, it has an anxious (feel); just a lot of negativity and confusion, sorta anger. And on this record, everybody just kinda all grew up somewhere along the way the last couple years. Everybody has gotten older and sorta let go of a lot of childish things and we get along really well.
We made this record in a house and we were all kinda living there and just as silly as it sounds, we all had a great time. We recorded in a dining room and then there was a fireplace in the den and our dogs were there. We had football on upstairs and we did vocals in the bathroom; it was a really cool vibe and it was out in the woods too. It was Atlanta but in a wooded neighborhood. We just had a great time and we had a fire going continuously. Anyone who wasn’t working had to keep the fire going. That was like the one rule of the house and every Friday night we ate sushi. So we had a really great communal vibe and I think we didn’t have any
intentions on how the record would sound. We just knew that we felt good and it was a very positive record at a positive time.

DMW: How long did it take to record Three Snakes and One Charm?

S.G.: I guess it was like two months worth over a three month time span. We started rehearsing, like the songs got thrown together in the beginning of November and it took about two weeks to set the house up. We had the studio booked but we weren’t going to make the record there. We were just rehearsing in this house but the vibe was really cool; we were all having so much fun we thought well, we better just do it here, you know, keep it going while it feels good. So we started putting it together around the middle of November and then the weekend after
Thanksgiving is when we started recording. End of November, I guess we went till about December 20th, so that’s about a month. And then we took about a week off for the holidays then came back for a couple weeks in
January; then we went to South America to play some shows for two weeks.
The mixing took two and a half months out in L.A. That was Jack (Puig), who co-produced the record with us, his mixing technique - he takes a long time but it’s always worth it. He’s like this mad scientist with his beakers and his test tubes going. At the end of the day it sounds great. I mean, start to finish, you’re looking at six months but actual recording was just a couple months.

DMW: I seem to notice that some of the songs have a religious undercurrent to them. Can we look at Three Snakes... as a redemption album comparing to Amorica which was more of an angry-driven album?

S.G.: Yeah. Looking at it now, I guess. I mean, you can’t fake those kinda vibes. We had no idea what something was gonna feel like. You just know what the songs are. I think this record represents that everyone is getting
older. Rich (Robinson) just had a baby two months ago, so what’s he gonna fight with me about now? He has a kid. If you spend five years with the same five guys on the bus and literally on top of each other, that’s five
years where everyone’s growing individually. You’re seeing the world and you get your eyes open and taking in so much – it’s just like a family, you know, when you have a brother or sister and one day they decide to go and
do something different, you’re going “What are you doing?” like they go, “I wanna do this. You’re not suppose to do that.” This is our family. Everybody left their first dysfunctional family and started up another one.
I’m from a huge family. I’m the youngest of eight kids and this is the exact same kind of stuff that was going on for me when I was in high school with my brothers and sisters. You just gotta give each other a
little room. We don’t have to be exactly alike. You can like a different team. We don’t all have to follow The Braves. I’ve forgiven those who decide to follow other teams.

DMW: Most of the songs deal with drug abuse such as “Nebekanezer”. What are the band’s thoughts on drug abuse in the music industry today?

S.G.: I don’t think anybody in the band looks at it in the context of rock music today. I mean, life is life. Drugs are always around. They affect different generations differently, I guess. It all comes down to the same thing - people want to get a buzz and people want to have a good time and feel things that you don’t normally feel. Drug abuse is a sick thing. If you do the drug and go somewhere and have a good time, you start relying on drugs to feel a certain way. If you can’t remember what life’s suppose to be like away from drugs, that’s not too cool, Heroine especially.
“Nebekanezer” is just really about... it’s not saying don’t do Heroine, it’s more like saying if you’re gonna do Heroine, you better at least understand: a.) you’re not stronger – that’s the one! You’re not gonna beat it
and don’t lie about it. Heroine is the grossest drug because people start shooting it and they’re like yeah, I’m not a junkie. It’s like yeah you are. Once you get into there, you’re not a junkie till you shoot...four times a day?
I think Heroine is like dog shit. Even if you get a little on your shoe It’s still dog shit. Drugs are like vegetables, someone once said. You know, some people like them - some don’t. If you let the drugs do you, then that’s the problem and it’s not cool.

DMW: Because there’s no real solution to actually bar drugs away from the industry.

S.G.: No. Not at all. They’re always gonna get back. The solution is to let everyone realize it should be a moral issue. If you grow up in a society where there are drugs all around you and you did it one day and you didn’t
like it, then you wouldn’t do it again and that would be the end of the story. People like to do things they’re not suppose to do. (The) same thing with sex. (The) same thing with cuttn’ class.

DMW: “Only Halfway To Everywhere” sounded like personifying a lyricist having trouble to satisfy, I suppose, critics who analyze the songs.

S.G.: Critics are something way in the past. People who receive 25 records a week, listen to them once and then write a page about each one. No one cares what they think. If someone goes to the store, plunks down $15 bucks and buys the c.d. then takes it home to listen to it, then I’ll listen to what they have to say. But no one is too concerned about what a music critic thinks. Even (for) good reviews. When I read a really good review of a record, I kinda go “What’s that guy talking about?” It still doesn’t make sense to me either.
We had an old song called “Darling of the Underground Press” which was sorta making fun of people who became the alternative scene or people who are afraid to just be themselves.

DMW: In the song “Bring On, Bring On”, your Allman Brothers influence can be heard in the first few bars.

S.G.: Oh sure. If you grew up in the south, everybody grew up listening to the Allman Brothers. (There were) a lot of Southern music you still had to weed through. The Allman Brothers are just one of the pillars. People just
dismiss that as Southern music. Well, yeah it’s Southern music that’s why it’s great. They’re playing country, jazz, blues and soul, gospel, folk music and Appalachian Sacred music; that’s where all of rock ‘n roll comes from
to begin with. That is rock ‘n roll and those were all Southern music forms. Hank Williams was more rock ‘n roll than Sid Vicious ever wanted to be.
We never said we’re the new thing. We’re just all original. We just have this all new way of doing things. We’re just one small piece in a long-standing tradition. There’s no finish line – it’s not a race. If you feel
you have crossed the finish line then you better start looking for a job.

DMW: The attitude on this album, as we said before, seem to reflect redemption, calmness. Is that how the Robinson brothers are like now and the band overall?

S.G.: Yeah. They are getting along better than they ever have. I’ve been with those guys over 10 years now. They have started off as brothers and then songwriters and those are two tension-filled relationships for anybody: your brother and your songwriting partner. And doing those two things together, they never had room to be friends - ever. They never had a conversation about what the other guy thinks or feels or wants out of life. And literally last year, we were breaking up every other day on the tour last year. We were just miserable and they just sat down and the two of '‘em for that one day had one long conversation and that was it. It was the first time they ever looked at each other differently, not like a mirror image or as the way family is. And that was the big part in everything getting cleared up ‘cause that was the starting point of everything good in the band. It just sorta felt like we had a dark cloud hanging over us for a long time. And last year by the time HORDE ended, we were like wow,
everyday you wake up and you’re still in an okay mood. Hey, this is kinda cool, you know.

DMW: So when you guys were doing albums before Amorica, it was as if it was a dread to go into the studio?

S.G.: Well, no. It was weird. It was just all life. At this point, recording or touring or being at home, that was a big part of everything as everyone realized that to us The Black Crowes is bigger than everyone individually.
It has become our lives and it is our family and these guys on the crew and we have friends all around the country that we see in different places and everyone has these mutual friends. We have this huge, extended family
now. Everyone knows why we’re all here and it’s for this band. We just realized that and we said okay, why are we going to throw this away? It was never really a dread; there’s just always things where you go through
rough times. I think this band has always been so important for everybody but you didn’t want to admit it. You didn’t want to look at each other and go man, I love this more than anything. Because what if someone else doesn’t, then you’d feel like an idiot. I mean, it’s just that simple stuff. You put your head out and someone might chop it off. It’s so simple now but the simplest things in life are the hardest to learn – they’re the deepest things to this day. Everything my dad - my insane ex-Marine psycho father - told me (while) growing up, you know, all those cliches and you just go “screw you”. It’s kinda weird when you get older and you realize, “well, shit that’s kinda true.” You know? No one can choose your first family, but you can choose your second family. It was sorta like “Does everyone want to do this? I mean, if we’re not gonna do it 100 percent, let’s stop. If we’re all going to do it and do this until we drop,
then lets put it in.” And that was the mindset with the new record.

DMW: Did you wish that attitude happened sooner?

S.G.: No. I mean, you can’t. It would’ve been nicer but then we’d already be in the next set of problems. Life just happens the way it does. I mean, I wish my dad hadn’t moved me to Kentucky when I was ten, I still get pissed off about it. But, I never would’ve moved to Atlanta if I hadn’t moved to Kentucky ‘cause I wouldn’t have known the guys. *

Posted by Amanda Nanawa on May 11, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)