If music were like baseball, Steve Wynn is easily batting .500.
That is to say that, over his career, the modern rock legend has a longer and stronger track record than most of his peers.
In the early 1980s Wynn rose to prominence as the lead singer and primary songwriter of seminal Los Angeles band The Dream Syndicate. Founded partly on Velvet Underground’s improvisational soundscapes, Television’s loud guitar dominance and the jingle-jangle of The Byrds, the Dream Syndicate are rightfully considered among the most notable bands of the so-called Paisley Underground scene, which also included The Bangles, The Rain Parade and others. Along with R.E.M, they are also one of the most important bands in the development and popularization of college rock.
With a constantly revolving line up, labels and experimenting in sound, The Dream Syndicate released a steady row of albums in the course of the ’80s. Their classic debut, The Days of Wine & Roses (1982), stands among the finest albums of the decade, while the blistering live album, Live At Raji’s (1989), captures their ferocious on-stage energy. The latter also turned out to be their swan song (though they reunited in 2012, with the possibility of new material on the way), paving the way for even more successful bands like Nirvana and Pixies without cashing in on the indie/guitar resurrection in the 1990s.
Steve Wynn has remained perpetually productive ever since.
After the demise of The Dream Syndicate, he immediately launched a solo career under his own name, as well as being involved in a series of different projects: Danny & Dusty (with Dan Stuart of Green On Red), Gutterball (with compadres from House of Freaks and The Silos), his own combo The Miracle 3, and the recent supergroup The Baseball Project (which includes his wife and half of R.E.M.).
No matter the musical constellation, Steve Wynn has always kept his signature in tact. Never compromising on strong, intelligent songwriting packed with funny wordplay and gritty storytelling, and of course excellent guitar playing and transcendent melodies. This pivotal artist has turned into one of the most reliable names of the last 35 years, always willing to reinvent himself in search of new sonic territory.
I sat down with the ever so friendly Steve Wynn for a deep-digging round of offbeat and revealing questions.
* * *
Describe your perfect day.
If I write a new song it’s a great day. When I’m creative and producing things, I’m at my happiest. That’s joy to me. Also, walking five miles every day, preferably in a city I’ve never been before. And those two things go together. Walking and writing for me has always been a good combination. So if I’m in a strange city, walking a lot, thinking about an idea for a song, and eating a good meal… It doesn’t get better than that.
Growing up, what made you want to become a musician?
I was born in 1960, so I grew up through Beatlemania, AM radio, garage rock, protest music, acid rock and great things like that. It was just in the air, and I was thrilled by music from a young age.
I wrote my first song and played in my first band when I was 9. That’s all I wanted to do. I had an older sister who was just old enough for my mother to trust me to go out with her, but young enough to be into cool music. She could drive, she had her own house, and she took me to lots of great concerts. The first show I ever saw was Delaney & Bonnie when I was 9, who I still like a lot. I was a music junkie from the age I was 6, so when my sister said we’re going to see Delaney & Bonnie I said, “Oh great, I hope Eric Clapton is playing.” I knew what was going on. She took me to see Alice Cooper, The Who, Roxy Music… all these great bands.
I’m very glad I was 17 years old in 1977. To be old enough to leave home, driving a car, enjoying my freedom while punk rock was happening… That was the perfect blend, and it blew my mind. The most romantic period of all time for me was buying singles by the Clash, the Buzzcocks, Elvis Costello and stuff like that. I think that influenced me more than anything.
What’s the most unlikely album that has inspired your own music?
It’s probably not a surprise to those who know my music and my history, but a lot of jazz records. Out there albums like Albert Ayler’s later stuff, Ascension by John Coltrane, Dancing in Your Head by Ornette Coleman… These were all records I loved, and who taught me of improvisation. In the years before The Days of Wine & Roses, I’d practice my guitar not to The Yardbirds or “Stairway to Heaven,” but to free jazz. It made sense to me, to learn how to jam and improvise. So I would sit down with these freaky half-hour long jazz pieces and go at it.
There’s a fire in your house! What three things do you rescue?
Besides my wife? [laughs] That should be obvious. Let’s see… my 1960 Princeton reverb amplifier, which is the best amp in the universe and which I use every time I make a record. Made the same year as myself, and sounds like all the albums I love. Then there’s my paisley Telecaster, which I just got. It’s my favorite thing right now. This is just music stuff, but I have to add Bob Dylan’s really great bootleg, Ten of Swords, which you can’t find anywhere these days and is a collection of his early demos and recordings. I carried it around forever. Yeah, I go for those three things, after the wife.
If you could pick a fight with anyone – who would it be and why?
I’ve got a few problems with Dick Cheney. [laughs] I think he and George W. Bush had quite a bit to do with screwing up the U.S. and the world in general, for reasons driven by money and corruption. If not punch him in the face, I’d at least like to ask a few questions. I can do more damage with my words than my fist.
I’m a political junkie and have always been a newspaper fanatic. First thing on my radar used to be a copy of the International Herald Tribune [now The International New York Times]. When I came to new cities, the first thing I tried to find was the train station and buy a paper, cause I had to have the news. And that was a way for me to discover a new city. Now you don’t need that, it’s all there. Just like music: The biggest thing about touring was to choose which 20 cassettes to last me for the next 6-10 weeks. I would agonize on my record collection whether to bring Marquee Moon or Adventure. Now I’ve got the entire record collection in my pocket.
What’s the worst or best advice you ever received?
Whatever it was I didn’t listen to it. I don’t take advice very well. [pauses] Someone once said to me, “Be careful and be aware of things that are done in your name, because you will bare responsible for it.” I think that’s true. Sometimes, when you’re a musician, you think somebody else will take care of things, but at the end of the day it’ll come down to you. The things you put out there, you live with. That’s why I think I take such good care of the records I make, the shows I play and the way I treat people.
A role model has always been Bruce Springsteen, who I think is a pretty righteous dude in his approach to live music. Seeing him play in 1977 for the first time was another big life changer, because I saw how much passion he put into his show, treating it like it was the last time. Some will see you that night, some may never see you again, may never have seen you before, and that show may be the most important in that person’s life. You should treat every night and everything you do like it may be the only time you do it. Because for some it will be.
What’s your favorite sport, and why?
You didn’t have to ask that. [laughs] It’s baseball, of course. I’ve always been a big baseball fan. One thing we found from the Baseball Project is that a lot of musicians love baseball. It makes sense, because baseball is much like the music we make. It’s cerebral, it’s mental, and you drift away in your own imagination. There’s no clock in baseball. There’s a clock in football, both European and American, there’s a clock in basketball and hockey. Baseball is open, limitless, infinite, anything can happen. You’re living in the moment, but you’re also living throughout history. Everyone who loves the game can recite numbers and facts from the last 150 years. Which is what we do in the Baseball Project.
Strangely enough I have three favorite teams, and they all have to do with where I’m from and where I live: I love the Los Angeles Dodgers, New York Yankees and New York Mets. But these days, since I live in Queens, I’ve started to like the Mets a little bit more. Now I can just walk to a Mets game.
A funny thing, my old friend Josh Kantor is the organist in The Baseball Project, and also the organist for Boston Red Sox at Fenway Park. It’s the greatest job, and he’s a really cool music fanatic. Typically in the past the organist would play old-fashioned songs or big hits, but he plays The Dream Syndicate, R.E.M and other really obscure indie bands to 50,000 people every weekend.
The Baseball Project at The Crossroads Club, Oslo November 13, 2015. (Photo: Bjørn Hammershaug)
What’s a place you’ve never been that you want to go?
So many. Next year I’d like to go to South America. I think Bogotá is on top of my list right now. I want to go everywhere. It’s the greatest thing, finding a new city. My favorite place right now is Mexico City, with its great bookstores, cafés, restaurants – and rock fans. There’s a huge scene down there.
Can you name a book that you wish everyone one would read?
I could name a lot of them… I’m a big fan of a book by John Updike called Rabbit, Run, actually there’s a series of books about this character called Rabbit. It tells the story of 20th century America better than any history book. It explains a lot about America and why it’s the way it is and what happened in the second part of the 20th century. I recommended that one, and any of the books with Rabbit in the title by John Updike.
Criticize your own music from the perspective of someone who hates it.
Too much damn guitar!
What’s your greatest fear?
Probably being deaf. I wouldn’t like that. I love music too much.
Are there any particular of your own albums you hold especially dear?
I’d have to say Here Come the Miracles, I really like that for many reasons. I think it’s my best record; and I’m really satisfied with what I did on that one. It also came at a time in my life where I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I thought, I’m 40, I might be done or I might be out of ideas, or I might have nothing left to say. It came at the right time, where it showed me where I should go, and also that I could keep doing it. It revived everything, from the creative side to the career side. It was also the easiest record to make. There were no obstacles, no confusion, and everything was just obvious. Now that doesn’t happen every day. [laughs]
The world is ending tomorrow. What do you do before it’s all over?
Enjoying some time with my wife. That’d be Linda [Pitmon] by the way, my bandmate in The Baseball Project. When we met, we had both been touring a lot, so we knew all about that lifestyle. I toured with this other musician for several years, and once he and I were together in Rome. It was such a beautiful night, we had had a great dinner and stood on a square under the full moon. He laid his arm around me and said, “Steve, I love you man, but I’d much rather be here with my wife.” And I totally understood him. The thing about musicians is that we travel the world having all these great experiences, and then we go home to our wives or friends and try to explain what it was like. It’s nice to be in a band with my wife. We can share all those great memories together.
Bjørn Hammershaug
Originally published September 17, 2005 on read.tidal.com
Butthole Surfers: Live PCCPEP
The Dream Syndicate: Live at Raji’s
Cosmic Psychos: Slave to the Crave
Dead Moon: Live Evil
Nomeansno: Live + Cuddly
Thin White Rope: The One That Got Away
Giant Sand: Backyard BBQ Broadcast
Magnolia Electric Co: Trials & Errors
Dette er den ganske så subjektive og forsøksvis 100% ærlige listen over mine 100 favorittfilmer gjennom tidene, der personlige parametere lett går foran etablerte klassikere. Dette er først og fremst filmer som har gjort et uutslettelig inntrykk et eller annet sted langs livsveien, filmer som med glede kan ses igjen – og i mange tilfeller filmer som helt sikkert har tapt seg en del siden den gang. Som med de fleste andre inntrykk og utrykk er de vi eksponeres for i den mest sårbare alderen, et eller annet sted i årene mellom 15 og 25, også de som sitter sterkest igjen.
Confusion is kjeks
Dette er en hyllest til noen av anti-legendene i musikkhistorien. Enkelte har særegne og lite konvensjonelle musikalske uttrykk, noen har tragiske livshistorier som har overskygget deres karrierer og atter andre oversette eller glemte talent. Et gjennomgående begrep for de fleste av disse kan være ’Outsider music’, lansert på 1990-tallet av skribent og musikk-historiker Irwin Chusid. Han har viet store deler av sitt liv til å arbeide med musikk på utsiden av normen, definert av ham selv som ’crackpot and visionary music, where all trails lead essentially one place: over the edge.’ Her er over 20 artister som aldri gikk hovedveien, men som beriket (og beriker) musikkhistorien i langt større grad enn deres manglende kommersielle appell skulle tilsi
Hasil ’The Wild Man’ Adkins kom fra fjellsidene i West-Virginia, og startet med musikk på 50-tallet etter å ha hørt Hank Williams på radio. Han gikk ut fra at Hank spilte alle instrumentene selv, og Hasil startet dermed sitt ’one-man band’ som ble hans varemerke gjennom hele karrieren. Takket være entusiastene i Norton Records ble han til sin store overraskelse gjenoppdaget av et ’større’ publikum på 1980-tallet. Billy Miller i Norton minnes flere utrolige episoder med Adkins, mange samlet i høyt anbefalte Incredibly Strange Music vol. 1, som denne fra en opptreden på en klubb i New York: The ceiling fan was whirling around, making a creaky sound, and without missing a lick he reached down, pulled out a gun and shot it down – it was interfering with the song. Norton utga bl.a. samlealbumet Out To Hunch (1986) der vi finner signaturlåta ”She Said”. Hasil Adkins døde i 2005.
The Viking Of Sixth Avenue: Avantgarde-musikeren Moondog – født Louis Hardin – ble først kjent som et landemerke på Manhattan. Fra slutten av 1940-tallet til midten av 70-årene inntok den blinde og skjeggete mannen hver dag Avenue of the Americas for å framføre sin musikk og poesi. Kledd i en hjemmelaget drakt, iført sandaler og vikinghjelm var han utvilsomt litt av et syn på gata. Han kom seg etter hvert over til Tyskland og rakk der å få anerkjennelse som komponist og dirigent. Han ble også respektert i hjemlandet i sine senere år, og hadde en viss innflytelse blant moderne komponister og minimalister som Philip Glass og Steve Reich. Moondog var dessuten instrumentbygger, og stod bak harper han navnga Oo, Ooo-ya-tsu og Hüs (etter vårt eget ’hus’, hans interesse for norrøn kultur var stor). Moondog døde i 1999, 83 år gammel.
Roky Erickson er en levende legende innen garasjerock/psykedelia – men også han med et trøblete liv som i stor grad har overskygget hans artistliv, og som gir ham en plass også på denne lista. Han slo gjennom med Texas-bandet 13th Floor Elevators i 1966 og låta ”You’re Gonna Miss Me”. Ericksons flørt med narkotika førte ham til et mentalsykehus (han sa seg utilregnelig for å unngå fengselsstraff etter at han ble tatt for en joint), der han ble erklært schizofren og utsatt for omfattende elektrosjokk-behandling i løpet av sine tre år bak sykehusveggene. Livet til Erickson – både som menneske og artist – ble lagt i ruiner, og han endte opp som en kulthelt blant de få mens han selv måtte klare seg på en spinkel trygd. Fra begynnelsen av 90-tallet ble han gradvis gjenoppdaget av en ny generasjon musikere og fans, og han fikk dessuten etterlengtet god behandling for første gang i sitt liv. I dag er han tilbake som en aktet og anerkjent musiker, dog noe redusert i adferden.
Syd Barrett stod bak et av historiens aller største band, men forsvant etter hvert inn i et mer tåkete landskap enn den som førte til stjernene. Hans oppførsel innad i Pink Floyd, trigget av ekstensiv bruk av LSD, ble etter såpass merkelig at han måtte forlate bandet etter deres første album.
Musiker og tegner Daniel Johnston er en kulthelt blant både fans og ikke minst mange musikere som har trykket hans personlige, naivistiske poplåter til sitt bryst. Han startet sine hjemme-innspillinger på slutten av 70-tallet, og har holdt det gående mer eller mindre jevnt og trutt siden. Johnston har strevet hele livet med sine mentale problemer, men har også skapt en karriere som har hatt ganske så stor innflytelse, ikke minst innen indie/lo-fi. Han ble et nasjonalt fenomen da MTV fanget ham opp i 1985 (det var på den tiden MTV gjorde slikt), men mange ble nok først oppmerksomme på hans talent med den prisbelønnede og vellagde dokumentaren The Devil and Daniel Johnston (2005).
Et særegent syn; to meter høy, flagrende hår, en gedigen nese og flamboyant stil. Tiny Tim spilte ukulele og sang falsett, og fikk en stor hit på slutten av 60-tallet med ”Tip-Toe Through the Tulips”. Det ble hans eneste smak av særlig suksess, og han tilbrakte resten av sin karriere med å spille på småsteder og jobbe på sirkus. Han ble gjenoppdaget på slutten av 90-tallet, blant annet opptrådde han på Conan O’Brien, men døde av hjerteinfarkt i 1996. På scenen, mens han sang ”Tip-Toe Through the Tulips”.
Notorisk kjent for sitt tilbaketrukne og hemmelighetsfulle liv, denne musikkens svar på J.D Salinger eller Thomas Pynchon. Det vi vet om ham: Født Sterling Smith, bosatt i Houston, Texas og har utgitt noe sånt som 70 album med særegen folk/blues siden slutten av 70-tallet. Han har gitt to intervjuer i sitt liv. Fram til 2004 var han knapt noe mer enn en anonym postboks, men da kom dokumentaren Jandek On Corwood (ref hans plateselskap) og han begynte så smått med å turnere i mindre skala. Uten at vi vet så mye mer om gåtefulle Jandek av den grunn.
Svensk Elvis-imitator som ikke sang spesielt bra. Og som ikke behersket engelsk så godt. Og som ikke lignet noe særlig på Elvis. Og som mest av den grunn i noen år ble enormt populær kultfavoritt her i Skandinavia.
Sangerinne fra Langevåg som slo gjennom med et brak blant ironigenerasjonen midt på 90-tallet, da hun gjorde sin versjon av ”Hurra for deg…” Olga Marie Mikalsen debuterte i godt voksen alder, på slutten av 60-tallet, og framførte sin spesielle lyriske alt i noen av verdens store konsertsaler. Men for de fleste vil hun nok helst forbindes med en reklamefilm for Solo. Olga Marie uttalte at hun aldri øvde (’har man det, så har man det’), og skapte seg en karriere med akkurat det som utgangspunkt. Hun gikk bort i 2006, 91 år gammel.
I 1981 var David Greenberg ansatt som pleier ved Duplex Nursing Home i Boston, der han ved en anledning overhørte en pasient ved navn Jack Mudurian som påsto at han kunne synge like mange sanger som Frank Sinatra. Minst. Greenberg tok ham på ordet, brakte med seg en opptaker og trykket record. Mudurian klarte å synge 129 sanger sammenhengende i løpet av 47 minutter. Opptakene ble utgitt i 1996, og det er unødvendig å si at albumet ble en instant kultfavoritt.
Hvitt landskap, sol i sikte bak skyene: The White Birch slipper sitt andre album siden 1998. De har kommet en lang vei siden de ble dannet på tittelen til SubPop-bandet Codeines nydelige andreplate. Sammen med produsent Helge Sten har trioen fra Oslo gått både dypere og mer luftig til verks enn noensinne. Come Up For Air er resultatet av en prosess på tre år – en plate som allerede har rukket å bli godt lagt merke til på kontinentet.
– Det er viktig å ikke stresse eller være utålmodig for hva en låt trenger av en modningsprosess. Det dreier seg om å prøve og feile, og det er rett og slett tidkrevende å prøve ut mange forskjellige ting. Men når vi tar oss tid til å prøve ut ulike ideer, så bidrar det også til at vi løfter oss den nødvendige biten som vi krever av oss selv. Vi kan ikke slå oss til ro før vi har nådd det stadiet, sier han, og legger til: – Man må finne og ta essensen i ideen og dens enkle mekanismer.
Kobi er i disse dager aktuelle med utgivelsen Dronesyndrome (Silber). Bak dette artistnavnet står Kai Mikalsen. Han har i en årrekke vært sentral i landets mer eksperimentelle og musikalsk vidsynte musikksirkler, og har en lang rekke utgivelser bak seg. Noen stikkord: Origami, Sketch, Ka, Brugata og Looop. Jeg forsøker å nøste opp i noe av mannens virke og finne ut hva som skjuler seg bak disse mystiske begrepene.
Dronesyndrome frigjør seg fra rytme, melodi og standardharmonier, og hele platen lurker rundt mørke strømninger og svevende stemninger. Hva er egentlig den musikalske idéen til Kobi?
Omslaget på They Came From the Sun… viser tre utkledde romvesener som ser ut til å være hentet fra en innspilling av en Ed Wood-film. Men det er ikke Astroburgere som skjuler seg bak bekledningen av søppelsekker, yoghurtbeger og pappesker, kan Stadheim fortelle:
