Part 1 — "PLAY IT LIKE YOU FEEL IT"
“PLAY IT LIKE YOU FEEL IT”
When The Reds guitarist Rick Shaffer released Necessary Illusion, his first solo album, my immediate response was: “When the Rolling Stones finally figure out how to get their ’64-era mojo back, it’s gonna sound like this stuff” Mind you, I’m joking, but in an era when everything has gotten so processed ‘n’ pitch-blended to perfection, until every last ounce of spontaneity and life has been wrung out of every pore, it’s refreshing to hear something standing so squarely in opposition to that kind of nonsense.
Of course, around these parts, such developments are more than welcome: as tracks like Shakin’ Hips, Two Weeks and Why Do You make clear, this is the type of music that slithers its way into your attention, rather than beat you over the head for just 30 seconds of your time − if you like swampy guitars, lots of reverb and primeval almost-drummin’, you’ll definitely feel welcome at this down home reptilian party. Enough said.
Then again, Rick Shaffer has always plowed his own furrow, starting with the appropriately-titled Just The Beginning [Fly By Night,1971], his first album with the band, Freight Train, which contained the seeds for The Reds . . . whose New Wave Noir styling’s have never been forgotten by those who hear them. Three decades later, Shaffer continues to fly The Reds flag with keyboardist Bruce Cohen.
I’d interviewed Rick once before, in conjunction with The Reds 2007 release, Fugitives From The Laughing House . . . which was a much more abbreviated affair. But I longed to do an extended conversation about Rick’s work, and musical approach . . . in other words, the kind of thing most mags just won’t let you get away with nowadays.
Rick agreed, and here are some early highlights of our 5/23/10 phone conversation, which began with a question on my part:
- Are you familiar with Relive The ’80s [ReliveThe80s.com], which is dedicated to the Philadelphia New Wave, power pop and punk scene?
Yeah, the person that runs the site has contacted Theresa [Marchione [band Manager] a couple of times, and we’ve done stuff with ’em, shared things. The thing is, for us in Philadelphia, they don’t quite like us so much, because we kind of left, you know what I mean?
- In what way?
Well, because a lot of the bands just really had a local presence. They never toured. Right from the beginning, with the [first] independent singles, we started playing everywhere we could. We’d go to Washington all the time, Boston, New York, anywhere we could play . . . Detroit, y’know, whatever . . . whereas, a lot of the other guys were just into being the big guys in town.
- Right, they never really wanted to leave home.
No. The other thing was, once Bruce and I started doing the film [soundtrack] stuff, a lot of our contemporaries were [saying]: “Well, man, this isn’t about rock ‘n’ roll.”
- So, I guess that is the perennial dilemma, you might say, of The Reds. Perennial outsiders, I guess.
Yeah. Our thing wasn’t to be big, as much as just playing, and getting the records out there, into all the other scenes, too. That was part of it, too. That’s the way you gotta look at it.
That’s what really helped me to get out of the thing of working with labels, and all that business, because you’re always at their mercy . . . when you can record, if the producer’s available, if he feels like doing it at this point . . . it’s not what it’s about, in terms of the creative process.
- So, Necessary Illusion, your first solo record, as such . . . why now, and what was the motivation for doing it?
The first record I did was like a ’60s blues psychedelic thing, and I’ve always been into that kind of sound. And I think that’s how The Reds sound kind of evolved, because [keyboardist] Bruce [Cohen] and I were into that early [material] − the Yardbirds, the Doors, and stuff like that.
I’ve worked on material like that, but never really brought it to light within The Reds thing, in the production way that I wanted to do it. I love listening to that old Excello [Records] stuff, with Slim Harpo, and Lightning Slim. The sound and the production of those records, was really something that I wanted to do.
- I can definitely hear that − my favorite track is Two Weeks. That sounds like something the man [Slim Harpo] would have been doing today, perhaps, with a different production style and approach.
Yeah, it’s been funny − the response to the record’s been really good. I’m thrilled about that aspect of it. A number of fans, in Europe, especially, have said that it really reminds them of the earlier Reds stuff, for some reason − even though it’s not really like The Reds’ material.
- What was the basic strategy and approach? Since it looks like you carried a lot of the load yourself.
Yeah, pretty much, I did − I just had some friends of mine add percussion and bass things on two tracks. And I’ve been obsessed with the Joe Meek production style, that ’60s producer. For the last couple years, I’ve been listening to a lot of it − just fascinated by his approach, and getting into his style. When I dug into things deeper about him, he had his home studio − and he had hits. They were big hits. And he wouldn’t work anywhere else − they wanted him to do stuff at Abbey Road, and some of the bigger, better studios, but he just liked his little atmosphere, how he worked, and manipulated stuff.
And also, [I’ve been listening to] people like Jessie Mae Hemphill, and that whole crew down there with the hill country kind of blues sound, with Junior Kimbrough, and [R.L.] Burnside, and all that music.
- In a way, it brings you full circle, because you played with a lot of those guys in Philadelphia, when you started.
Oh, yeah, yeah.
- Who were some of the names that you worked with?
Well, it wasn’t a matter of working with them − you’d go to the gigs, ’cause I was younger. I was 17 or 18, in some cases, when I first started . . . sittin’ around, talkin’ to people like Muddy [Waters], Magic Sam — the really old-timers.
I mean, these guys were accessible, and they were bigger than life to me. They all dressed really great, and they had this intensity to their music. And they were very accepting of you, as a young kid, being into their music − having all these questions about the business, and all that stuff.
- Right, because they’d certainly all been through the ringer . . . so this would have been the ’70s?
Yes, the album we cut was in ’71. I was 19 then. It was called, Just The Beginning [by Freight Train]. The thing that’s really frustrating [is], I don’t even have a copy of the record – people sell ’em [online] for $100 or $200. They call it, “’60s psych blues, very similar to Peter Green, Fleetwood Mac, and Chicken Shack and stuff like, British blues kind of stuff.’”
And we liked that stuff, but we were more into people like T-Bone Walker, Magic Sam, Howlin’ Wolf. The press − when they used to write about it − said, “Imagine a bunch of 19-year-old white kids thinkin’ that they’re 50-year-old black men.” The thing that drove me, the deeper I got into that scene, was, you really had to write your own stuff.
- And it had to be a cut above the rest, as well − that was always part of what those guys were about.
Yeah. It was to maintain the intensity . . . they would always say, “be true to yourself,” and to play it like you feel . . . that whole concept. And so, that really drove me to the thing of starting to become a songwriter.
- So, yeah, it’s kind of interesting that some 40-odd years later, you make this record, and you go back to how you started.
It’s always been such a passion. Even when we’d be on the road with The Reds, I was always carrying stuff like Eddie Boyd, and all these old recordings − I would take tapes, at that point, with me.
- Did people ever find that a bit incongruous? Because people commonly assume, if you’re in a group that plays a certain style of music, that must be all you ever listen to.
Yeah, to some extent . . . one time in Buffalo, these three guys showed up, they had that [Freight Train] album, they wanted them signed, and they were into The Reds stuff!! It was funny, the one kid said to me, “Well, it’s really not much of a stretch.” And I was like, “Whoa!” I said, “I think The Reds stuff is a lot different than some Chicago shuffle music.”
- It must have knocked you a bit sideways.
Yeah, being right in the midst of that whole era of the first album, and the tour − it kind of really threw me. But it was kind of cool that they liked both.
Part 2 — "IT'S ALL OVER THE PLACE, AT SOME POINT"
“IT’S ALL OVER THE PLACE, AT SOME POINT”
- One of the things that made me think of the Slim Harpo connection was “Shakin’ Hips.” With your last three records (Fugitives From The Laughing House, Early Nothing, Necessary Illusion), there’s always little quotes from well-known R&B stuff throughout the songs.
[Laughing] Yeah, you’re one of the first people to pick that up.
- On Early Nothing, you’ve got a mention of “Bright Lights, Big City,” and I smiled when I heard it – I said, “Eh, I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
It’s a weird thing − I like to put it in as a tribute to my heroes kind of thing. On Diggin’ It, I make a reference to Sonny Boy [Williamson], because I just think what those guys have done is so important to our music. It just means a lot to me, and any time I can get it out there about these people is just important to me.
- Exactly. You can follow the thin red line from Sonny Boy, and he works with the Yardbirds − the next thing you know, they’re the biggest thing that’s coming. You’ve got this whole British blues scene, everybody dipping into each other’s pockets.
Yeah. And I guess it’s like the thing you mentioned to me last week, really, I think you hit it on the head with the primeval Stones kind of thing. I mean, that’s really what I wanted to get back to, a lot of the stuff, I recorded with the tape and the old tambourine [attached] to my foot, then laying it down with the guitar and the vocal, and putting everything else on top of it.
- Because you get the basic rhythm, the basic beat, and then you can pretty much go from there.
Yeah. And it keeps it, like, where it’s in that hoppin’ kind of thing, that kind of groove, like Slim Harpo, or even that early Stones stuff. I mean, if you get analytical about it, it’s all over the place, at some point.
- Well, to give you an idea of what I don’t like − I did a session about 15 years ago . . . the first thing that he [the engineer] made us do was work with a click track.
Ah, that’s the worst. I’ve met so many young guys who’ll talk to you about that, and say, “Oh, I had to do this” . . . guys that are into that slick kind of scene, or they’re on a major label. And they say, “Why doesn’t your stuff sound like this? It sounds so great, it’s rough” . . . because they don’t do any of that stuff.
- Well, why do they [producers] insist on that much, you think?
They’re looking for perfection. When I worked with [Mike] Thorne, he sat there, at one point for a week, with another person tuning my voice!
- Tuning your voice?
Yeah. Every single word, every syllable, and I was disgusted. I told Mike, “You know, I understand what you’re doing, but the stuff I like has nothing to do with that.” But, you know, they’re just into this thing of trying to make a perfect record.
- And yet, it’s kind of funny − I think it was John Peel who once said, he preferred somebody who could play the same three chords honestly, as opposed to 39 chords perfectly.
Right. Going back to the Joe Meek part of it, I used all old vintage stuff for my gear, for the bass stuff, it’s funny, I picked it up from a guy [Greg Cohen] who’d played with Tom Waits, a Billy Wyman 1964 Framus bass. I used that bass for the whole record, because I wanted that kind of sound for it. And I used these old ’60’s reverberation units, made by Premier, that people like Dick Dale, and that whole crew, Duane Eddy, used. Just that kind of stuff.
- So, basically, what does working with that kind of gear give you, that the modern stuff can’t give you?
It seems like it has a warmth to it. In the case of those fuzztones, I picked up a 1967 Tonebender. Mick Ronson used one, and Jimmy Page used one in the early Zeppelin [era], first two albums, and [during] the end of the Yardbirds. To get those tones, you’ve gotta use that stuff, if you want that [sound].
- Tell me your favorite tracks on Necessary Illusion, and what inspired them. Give me two or three.
Well, the title track, I like it, because it reminds me of something off December’s Children, or England’s Newest Hitmakers [by the Rolling Stones], in that it’s like a simple song. Yet I wanted to incorporate the fuzz hooks, like the Joe Meek kind of stuff he would use in some of those records, and then, the tremolo kind of things from that era, just have a concise song with a good hook, and a nice groove in it.
I watched this really huge documentary with Noam Chomsky − that’s one of his big concepts that he’s putting out there, and I thought, “Wow, this is a great idea for a song.” Then I just got into laying it down with a reverb track, and then the tambourine on the foot, and started putting everything on top of it.
- OK, that’s one, give me another.
Well, Lucky Day is just the hill country kind of groove − the “Boom-bah, boom-bah,” [R.L.] Burnside kind of feel. But then, I wanted to tie that aspect of hill country into the Yardbirds kind of thing. And that was the whole idea, again, keeping it simple, but tying it to the garage thing, marrying that with the hill country kind of groove, and putting the two of them together.
- And that’s what you get. OK, give me one more.
I like the atmosphere in Open Your Eyes, it’s a dark track, but I just like the atmosphere of it. On that song, in particular, I went back to what I would consider a huge influence, Magic Sam, putting that West Side soul kind of thing that he had going on in his records, before he passed away, just that real bite-y, kind of reverb, ethereal kind of thing in the background there, lurking around in this piece.
- From the lyrical standpoint, you captured a lot of that feeling you were after . . . “My woman done me wrong, the world done me wrong, everybody done me wrong . . .”
Yeah, it was definitely to incorporate that, and maybe paint it a little broader − it’s actually within all the blues songs, the tragedy, the misfortune, and the redemption, in a lot of cases.
- Yeah, well, as evidenced by somebody like R.L. Burnside coming into his own, late in life.
Really, at the end of his life.
- At the end of his life, which − in the pop music industry − really isn’t allowed to happen, as we both know.
Yeah. I don’t know if I ever mentioned it to you before. It really blew me away, and I didn’t know, at the time, Robert Palmer used to write about us all the time. And he really, really liked the band. When that first [Reds] album came out, he was writing for the New York Times, he gave it, “one of the best albums of the year” [mention]. And he used to review us live.
And he did this huge article in Penthouse one time, where he took all the New Wave bands, and did a review of every single one of them. Then he picked out our album, and said, “To me, these guys are the best of the batch, and I’m gonna tell you why.” He said, “They play it the way it’s supposed to be played, real and red hot, all the time.”
But the thing I never knew is what a blues enthusiast he was. I found out, much later. It was after he passed away, after he did that whole Deep Blues book, the movie, and all, and then I thought, “Okay, I can see why he liked this stuff.” He had that element in him.
Part 3 — "IT JUST BECOMES THE THING OF DOING THE WORK"
“IT JUST BECOMES THE THING OF DOING THE WORK”
Right, when we last left off, then . . .
. . . with The Reds guitarist Rick Shaffer, we reviewed the inspirations behind his new solo album, Necessary Illusion, along with some of the recording techniques that he used, and how the “hill country” blues sound has influenced his stylistic M.O. Our extended conversation then shifted to the usefulness of free association as a creative tool, which is where we pick our next round of questions.
- It’s that idea of unlikely connections coming through − unlikely tastes, or associations − and from that, you get great things.
Yeah, the very last song, “Why Do Ya,” I got into that. I’ve been reading Charles Bukowski. One night, I was reading one of the pieces, listening to [Captain Beefheart’s] Mirror Man, and later on, I got into doing that track, just laying it down with the slide.
- Well, Mirror Man’s interesting as an album, because it’s basically built around jamming, and free association.
Yeah. I just laid it down with the one guitar, with the slide, put it down that way, with the vocal. On a couple tracks, I just did the vocals and guitars as is, and kept ’em that way. I didn’t want to punch it in, I just wanted to do it straight up.
- For Early Nothing, the [Reds’] trademark sound is there, the keyboards are back up again . . . you and Bruce are almost having little duels in those songs, I think.
It’s funny, that record keeps gaining momentum, where people get into it, buy it, and download it. I said to Bruce [during the recording], “Yeah, this is one of those records, where it’s going to take people awhile to get into it, I think.” But I like a lot of the concepts, the things we did in it – like the one track that gets tremendous play in Europe, A Few Dollars More.
- So where did that particular inspiration come from, ’cause you’re talking about betrayal, and being let down?
Well, I saw a documentary by Amy Berg [Deliver Us From Evil], about the situation within the Catholic religion of moving the priests around, the whole pedophile thing, it’s an absolutely brilliant documentary. And so well done, it just moved me. Bruce had an electronic piece, and I started working on the vocal part, laid that down. Then I started working on the guitar over it.
- And so, it just kind of grew from that.
Yeah, I like doing stuff that way. We’re talking about starting an album in 2012, and we came to a conclusion, when Bruce called me up one night after I sent him a copy of Necessary Illusion. He said, “I’m riding around in my car listening to this, and I think we should go back to the approach of the first three albums where we lay down the rhythm tracks, the heavy guitar sound, and then I add after that, rather than building this up, like the last two records.” I was like, “Yeah, I’ve been thinking that, too – to hit it less effortlessly.” So I think that’s probably the way we’re gonna go with that.
- That’s cool. In Laying Low, you have an interesting little instrumental bridge going on.
I really wanted to give a little nod to Mick Ronson, that Bowie sound that he was doing in Ziggy, and Aladdin Sane, that kind of era.
- Well, it would have been very easy to add a few extra lyrics – just for the sake of it – but you didn’t do that. You just let the guitar do all the talking, as it were.
I like that break in it, too. I like to think we based the maracas over it. It’s a heavy piece. It gets a lot of play on Pandora.
- How about Endless, with the little bass pulse, and doomy-gloomy stuff that Bruce brings to it, where did something like that come from?
[Laughig ]That was our Riders On The Storm. If you think about it, you could get into that end section, maybe a little bit darker than Riders On The Storm [laughs].
- So if you’re not doing another Reds record till 2012, what’s going to keep you guys busy until then?
Well, Bruce just signed to Rope-A-Dope. It’s a hip hop, jazz label. He started, about seven months ago, an organ trio based on Tony Williams’ Lifetime, and ’70s Miles Davis [music], On The Corner, [and] Bitches Brew. He started working with two guys who are really great musicians in South Beach, developing their sound.
A guy heard ’em, and said, “This label I know would really be into what you guys are doing.” The label heard it, and they did an album. It came out at the same time as Necessary Illusion . . . it’s called Big Fun 3, which is also the band name. There’s a couple pieces where it sounds like King Crimson goes insane, like on some of those early recordings where it’s just so heavy, but then goes into a funk groove. It’s a cool sound they’ve come up with.
- So how are you going to stay busy?
I’m already starting another record. I’m real work-oriented. I work every day. I’m always writing, we’ve been lucky, too. There’s one little movie we got involved with, Dirty Step Upstage. We did two songs on the soundtrack, two instrumentals. The soundtrack got one of those Maverick awards, an indie award, and the film was at Cannes. She’s [director Amber Moelter] real interesting, she does all kind of things.
- Just one of the many people that you cross paths with.
Yeah, and there’s always little side things. Theresa just licensed The Signal an instrumental [off our second album] to a company for a phone app
- So, suffice to say, that staying busy is not going to be a problem for you.
No, thankfully.
- It could very easily have gone the other way, couldn’t it? Because there was that period [where] you’re doing the Stony Plain stuff, playing every night, everybody’s getting burned out, you’re not really getting much of anything.
No, you’re just running a huge deficit all the time.
- You’re running up a big bill, you’re not getting any real acclaim, so to speak. Had you not hooked-up with Michael Mann, you might have probably stayed in that spot.
I probably would have ended up doing the studio thing, because that seemed to work for me real well. It’s a really good living, and it’s real easy. But I don’t really like it, to be honest with you.
- Well, I imagine it gets like what [Jimmy] Page ran into, at the end of his session period – a real assembly line mentality, right?
Absolutely. It is. It is. I would come in: “Okay, here it is, run it down, let me hear the sound, okay, do you know what you’re gonna do? Okay, let’s go, let’s record it. ” And that’s it. “Why’d you do this? No, no, that’s it, that’s fine.”
- Right, they won’t let you do it [again] because of that whole equation, “Time is money,” I suppose.
That’s the thing I like about having control. And it goes back to what you want to do, it’s nice to know you can just do this music the way you want it, and present it the way you want it, because it’s really what you’re trying to do. That’s what the artistic part of it’s about.
- There’s nothing more frustrating when you run into somebody who won’t let you do that.
It’s terrible! You know, when I read the Danny [Gatton] book, it points out some of the same things that he would get into. I found myself following down the same path, and thankfully, I was able to pull myself out of it, because it gets real dark, when you get like that.
- And you get into that psychic corner.
Yeah. Where the light really went on was when I went back to being around these blues people, because they don’t care about any of that stuff. They just don’t care about it.
Once you put that whole thing out of the mind, it just becomes the thing of doing the work. And that was the thing that [Michael] Mann always would be into with me – “Oh, don’t fuckin’ worry about who you’re gonna work with, or where you’re gonna do it, just do it.” That’s a big part of it. Once you get into that mindset, then that’s what you do.
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Part 4 — "THERE'S ONLY SO MUCH TIME"
“THERE’S ONLY SO MUCH TIME”
Picking up from last time, we start by discussing Rick’s motivations for working on music as intensely as he does, and how that contrasts with what he’s seen out in the field.
- So, if you had to dispense any words of wisdom to these young bands, that would be it, then?
It’s totally it. I mean, I meet a lot of guys that are on their first or second record, and think they got it all figured out, you’ll tell ’em, “It’s just about the work. None of the other stuff matters.”
- As I like to say, “The music is going to outlive us, so we’d better try and serve that first” – whatever you leave behind, that’s what you’re judged on. If it’s embarrassing, then you’re treated accordingly.
That’s it. It’s funny, Ralph, that’s the thing that drives me every day, the concept that there’s only so much time. I love the work, I love the process. Bruce, he’s a little different than I am. He’s more of a social kind of guy, and works when he wants to work.
He calls sometimes, and I’ll be working on something. He’ll go, “Are you playing that? Are you recordin’?” I’m like, “Yeah,” and he goes, “Why?” And I say, “Because I want to, I got to.” Really, when you think about all of this, you never know when your ticket’s punched, why not do what you do?
- So, when you look back on the “[good] old days,” there’s all that superficial revivalism going on now. Where do you think time has treated you, in that respect?
I don’t worry, I think that’ll all be figured out, at one point. I got a message from a kid in Russia last week. He’d been a fan since Cry Tomorrow [1992], then went back and got the other albums. And he said, “You guys are the real gem. You are a real diamond. Your music has, to me, a real psychedelic quality that touches my brain.” And I said to him, “How old were you when you got into this?” He says, “I was 10.”
That blew me away: how did he hear it? I should have asked him that [first]: “How did you hear the record?” He continuously likes to listen to all the stuff. He says, “Don’t think of me as a junkie, but your music, when I’m high, sounds unbelievable.” And I loved that, I thought that was great. But that will all be figured out at one point. I said to Bruce, “We’re just like the blues guys – maybe 30, 50 years from now, somebody will be listening to us, saying, ‘These guys were real good.’”
- “These guys were the reference point.”
Yeah. I get people that were there when the [early] stuff was going on, “Are you guys gonna tour?” Especially European fans, “Is there a chance that you would tour, and do stuff from all the albums?” And the answer is no. I mean, we could do it real well, maybe it would happen, I don’t know. It’s just that sometimes, when you see older acts doing this stuff, it’s kind of depressing.
- In other words, you feel like that would be going back a bit too much, perhaps.
Maybe. If it could be done in the right way. I’ve seen some people that do it. I’ve seen Van der Graaf Generator, and it was absolutely phenomenal, they were unbelievable. But I think it just depends on the act.
- But you’re quite happy for The Reds to exist as a studio phenomenon?
And the fact that we like working with the film stuff. Theresa got a company in Los Angeles to finally release the soundtrack from Manhunter,which was a big deal, because that was something we really wanted. So I’ve been doing some interviews around that [release], and they ask, “Why not go out and do The Reds stuff, live dates, and all that business?”
The answer I gave them is, “To me, film has a real sense of immortality. A movie like Manhunter’s played in Brazil, Japan, all over the world.” People can experience your music with the sound and vision concept, they’re visually taking something in, and the music’s there. It doesn’t necessarily just have to be about what we’re doing.
- Given the regimen you guys were subjected to back then, it’s something that you really don’t miss, and are not anxious to repeat.
Once you enter the first couple days into the tour thing, you’re just into it then, and that’s what you’re doing. I like playing live. But, economically, I don’t see how you can do it now.
We’re supposed to do something in 2012, in the UK – a live performance for film. A British director proposed it to us. It’s a cool idea. They want us to compose a piece for a ’40s film noir – for a specific scene to be performed live, to the film.
- Now that does sound like something a little different.
Yeah, we would do it, ’cause we thought it’d be a cool thing to actually perform the music to the film, live. They wanted our sound, which to an old film like that, would be interesting. There’s a couple [film titles] being talked about. We don’t know which way it’s gonna go, though.
- Okay, but that’s a little different, and that’ll get your juices flowing in a different direction [rather] than doing 10 days here, 10 days there.
Yeah. The beauty of doing the other stuff is that we have a catalog now. We have so much material. Somebody sent me a video where they performed Victims, off our first album, by a Philadelphia band, David Scott Smith, for [WXPN’s] “World Cafe,” a syndicated radio concert series. You hate to speak too ill of anybody, since . . .
- They’re complementing you by doing the song.
Yeah, but it was weird. I hadn’t heard the song in ages, [theirs was] like a rolling kind of shuffle [hums the riff], and the original version went [hums original riff]. At the end of it [the program], I was surprised that people really liked it.
- Has your music actually been widely covered, to any great extent?
Not that I know of. A Canadian band did Self-Reduction, but the label wouldn’t let them put it out. I think they were called The Darkroom. They were a cool band, an electronic band, reminded me of the [Psychedelic] Furs.
- And you said, “Go ahead,” and got bitten . . . but that’s typical of how a lot of these things go.
Yeah. But the thing that was interesting, we just licensed Five Year Plan off our third album. It’s a real raucous piece, and was licensed to a company doing a film about architecture [laughs]!
- Really? That’s really weird . . .
Yeah, it was from left field. We said, “Thank you.” It was an Australian company, which was cool.
- Well, in that sense, these things aren’t so bad in that they keep you as a deeply underground phenomenon, you might say.
I guess. People ask me, “Are you bitter that you’re not big?” I say, “No, I’m able to keep the lights on, and doin’ what I love doin’.” For me, it’s not an issue. At one point, it probably would have been a bigger issue because I would get real frustrated by having to get another label, find another producer, getting so wrapped up into that, you spend all your time doing it, rather than writing.
- Well, I guess, maybe it might have been more of an issue at the time that you were gotten rid of by A&M, perhaps.
That was definitely an issue at that point, because I was responsible for all the business stuff like dealing with management and agents. The band was [saying], “Well, what are we gonna do for money? How are we gonna live? What are you gonna do about this?” I was 26, and I was beside myself, ’cause I didn’t know what we were gonna do.’
- You didn’t really know which way things were gonna end up, right?
I didn’t, but from working with the people I did the Freight Train album with, they schooled me real early on. They came out of the doo-wop thing of record-making, producers, and labels, so I learned a lot from them. With A & M, they wanted the whole thing to end.
I said, “We have a five-year deal with you, but how about if you give us the money, so we can do the second album?” Because we had already started working on it, but they thought it was a little too off-the-wall, and they wanted it to be a pop album. That’s when I got into [saying], “No, that’s not happening, so let us finish that record, and we can have the master.” And they said, “Okay.”
Then I got the master and was able to make the deal with a Canadian label, and a British label. Terry King, he had guys like Caravan, and different progressive bands like that, on his label. He says, “Okay, I’ll make a deal with you guys for the master.” So he made a deal with them [A&M]. With the Canadians, and a couple American people here, indie guys, we released EP’s and albums. We were able to keep it going that way.
- So you found a sideways route out of that little problem [with A&M]?
Yeah. And then, we just kept playing through that whole business till we got involved with Seymour [Stein], at Sire, and that led us to Mr. Mann.
- And here you are today. So that was pretty fortunate, how it turned out.
We’ve had some [stories] written about us, and it’s always, “The poor Reds.” But we don’t really see it that way.
Part 5 — "IT'S A COMBINATION OF OPPORTUNITY AND PREPARATION"
“IT’S A COMBINATION OF OPPORTUNITY AND PREPARATION”
All good things come to an end at some point, and this interview is no exception. However, I’ve never enjoyed a recent transcription job more than this one, mammoth as it seemed: thanks to Rick for his willingness to expound so freely, and The Reds manager, Theresa Marchione, for hooking us up. We begin by discussing why Rick isn’t worried that he didn’t snatch rock ‘n’ roll’s proverbial big brass ring.
- When we first talked, you made that abundantly clear – you didn’t see yourself as a victim of that whole [’70s/’80s New Wave] era.
There was an opportunity, just a little while ago with the producer of the [first Reds] record, [David] Kershenbaum. I sent him a note, and I was real nice because he was also the vice president of A&R, and he was the guy that decided that we either became pop, or we were gonna be off the label. Plus, he was our producer, which made it really uncomfortable.
- Lovely situation!
Anyway, I sent him a note saying, “Over the years, we’ve had quite a bit of compliments, and I could kind of see where you were coming from with the record, you were trying to drag that garage sound out of us, and you really wanted to develop that more . . .” Because he thought we should really be more like the early Animals.
I said, “You know, I can appreciate that now, but I also have to be very thankful because, through the A&M situation, I’ve been able to have a pretty long career, I’ve been able to create for a long period of time. And I really thank you for giving us the opportunity.” But, I never heard anything from him.
- Oh, well, that’s just how it goes.
Yeah, that’s pretty much my MO in life. I try to do the right thing, say what you think, and if it doesn’t go, that’s not my problem.
- So, if you’re giving advice to the next generation, what two or three things would you tell them, assuming they’d listen? Because, as you said, you meet people who think they’ve got it all figured out.
Oh, yeah. I was talking to a guy, I think he’d signed a deal with Sony, and I’m askin’ about the studio, production, artwork, things like that. He says, “I don’t care about that stuff!” I said, “What do you mean, you don’t care, it’s what you’re doing!” And he says, “What I’m doing is making records so I can meet people, and get women.”
- Oh, God, he told you that?
I said, “You don’t care about the whole creative process?” He says, “Nah!” It was very superficial, a lot of the younger people I run into are very superficial. It’s kind of distressing.
- Well, perhaps – but you know what? My theory is that this stuff skips generations.
You’re absolutely right. It’s that old thing of, the father’s a laborer, so his son can become a doctor, and then his son can become an artist. The most important thing is, play it like you feel it – if you’re doing the work, and you’re really doing what you think is good, it’s going to come to light.
You can’t just sit in a room and not do anything with it. I knew this one guy that was a producer from the ’50s and ’60s. The guy was brilliant, absolutely brilliant. He would work in the studio for 20 hours a day. He was like a Joe Meek kind of guy. You would hear this stuff, and it’s like taking a hit of acid, it was so surreal – the way he would do things, and produce things. But he would work on a song for five years! One song!
- One song!
One song, every day, for five years! And he’d just never do anything with it – he’s workin’ every day, he’s real creative and he’s brilliant, but he’s doin’ nothin’ with it! So nobody ever got to hear it.
- Nobody ever got to hear it. Well, it’s a combination of opportunity, and preparation – put ’em together, and you usually come up with something.
Yeah – when I was first playing, I knew people that were champions in their bedroom.
- There are a lot of legends in their own mind, and that’s what they thrive on, but it’s not gettin’ them anywhere.
No, and that’s why I just keep working.
- Keep working, keep your head down, and just do the playing.
Yeah. The other thing is, I keep in touch. I listen to everything I can, [including] the newer bands. That’s one thing I’m really happy with, a lot of original fans are buying the CD, rather than the downloads, which our newer fans buy, which is kinda cool in both ways.
It really gives you a sense of purpose, I guess. I get a lot of the same response from people, “You made me become a musician” – from the first album, [the] early stuff – and when I listen to their stuff, they’re good. That definitely makes you feel like you passed it on from the people that turned us on, know what I mean?
- Absolutely – so we can only hope everybody does you proud, I think.
Yeah, right. We’re fortunate, too – we’re with a number of music libraries around the world, where music supervisors go to pick music for projects.
- And I’m assuming that’s something you would recommend, as well?
Yeah, absolutely
- And then, it’s kind of a potluck, random [situation]?
Well, it is, but you’ve got as good a chance as anybody else. When we did the films with [Michael] Mann for Miami Vice, everybody said, “Aw, you can’t do it, he’s got Phil Collins, you guys are nothing.” I said, “OK, let the guy decide.” That’s the way I look at everything that I do. I don’t care. I have no embarrassment issues – if they don’t want you, [they say], “Next!”
- Different people get tuned into different things. Sometimes, that coincides with what you do, other times, it doesn’t.
I did a press phone interview with a magazine in Canada for the last [Reds] album, and he said, “Do you really think you’re gonna be any bigger than you are?” And I said, “I don’t really care.” He says, “Well, I think you’re the main reason why this band has never gone anywhere.” I said, “Wow! I’ve been working for thirty years and it hasn’t stopped me yet.”
- He’s really trying to make friends!
Yeah, and I said, “That may be so, but the fact of the matter is, I’ve been recording since 1977, and my music is released everywhere. The main thing is, I like it.” He said, “This band could have been really a big band, with somebody else in it.” And I said, “But, the other side of it is, I’ve written mostly all the material”
- Boom! Touche, and there was, probably, I’m guessing, the sound of crickets on the phone.
Nah, he said, “I don’t think you’ll ever be anything.”
- Geez, what a prick!
Yeah, he was pretty brutal. When we were looking for record deals in the 1984, before we signed to Sire, Theresa would set up meetings where I would meet people at Elektra, Capitol, or Columbia. I had guys telling me, “You can’t sing, you can’t write, you can’t play, and you’re sure as hell not pretty.” And I’d say, “Yeah, but I’m real good.” You know, what can you say to that? It’s an indefensible kind of a thing, and it’s their opinion. You can make anybody look like an ass.
- Yeah, but there’s some other agenda going on with somebody like that.
Oh, absolutely. That’s somebody who’s got some kind of an issue, somewhere.
- If somebody like that really dug it [his own music] I’d have to ask myself, “What am I doing?”
Yup, that’s right! [laughs] I have to say, Ralph, I think that a lot, too. When I got off the phone with that press guy, I was like, “Where are you coming from?” One of the reviews we got on the first album, Bruce and I absolutely loved – the other guys in the band and the management weren’t too thrilled about it. I think it was in Melody Maker.
The guy said, “Imagine this, if you will: Elvis Costello, and Black Sabbath.” Then he went on to go through the whole album – that was the whole theme of it [the review], putting Black Sabbath and Elvis Costello together. And I was like, “This is great.” You think about that, and I guess it’s a perspective on stuff.
- Yeah, I can almost see how you might have reacted to that.
RS: We just got our first review on Necessary Illusion, from a magazine in Luxembourg. He’s [the reviewer] a Reds fan, and started with [how] he missed the keyboards at first – but, as he delved into it, found other things [to excite him]. He said it sounded like late ’60s garage: “Imagine, if you will, Jon Spencer and Alan Vega together.” I thought that was cool.
- As we say, different people like different things, and that’s a good example.
Yeah. Well, I thank you for your time, Ralph.
∎ About the interviewer: Ralph Heibutski, a/k/a Chairman Ralph, is an author, and freelancer for national newspapers and magazines, such as All Media Guide, Guitar Player, Vintage Guitar, DIScoveries, eHow, and Goldmine, where the Chairman has profiled many of blues, jazz, and rock’s most significant artists and performers.
In 2003, Heibutzki’s critically acclaimed first book, “Unfinished Business: The Life & Times Of Danny Gatton,” was the first major biography of the late, lamented instrumental guitar master, and it has remained a best seller ever since.
