The Archive Series: Todd Rundgren - December 1993

 

Todd Rundgren: Hello, It’s TR-I

Todd Rundgren has always pushed the envelope of recording, from both musical and technological aspects. During the course of his career, he has stretched the boundaries of invention time and time again, not only with his own albums, but as a producer of more than fifty albums by other artists. Rundgren’s work with Meat Loaf (Bat Out of Hell), The Band (Stage Fright), The New York Dolls (The New York Dolls), and XTC (Skylarking) are but a few examples of the diversity of Rundgren’s abilities.

1993 heralds the release of No World Order, Rundgren’s latest solo album──and the very first interactive format CD. While the interactive format allows the listener to, in effect, customize the music in more than a million different ways (via a CD-interactive player), the non-interactive version is a cause for wonderment in itself. The waterfall of musical invention cascades out of the speakers, carrying the listener along at an almost break-neck pace. It’s an exhilarating ride, though. Rundgren has managed to capture his new musical vision with utter clarity; to listen is to see.

I spoke with Todd Rundgren (or TR-I, as he prefers for the moment), who shared some thoughts on the album, his career, and the state of music in general.

Roy Abrams: No World Order incorporates so many different musical elements, with intricate layers of sound. Was there an overall blueprint you worked from regarding arrangements and song structure?

Todd Rundgren: It’s been a while since I’ve used sequencing at all. On most all of my records, I might have used a drum program occasionally and then played everything else more or less live. It was overall much more of a serious sequencing job than I had ever undertaken before.

RA: I was especially intrigued by your integration of rap. It sounds as if you had a lot of fun exploring the element.

TR: It was fun, actually. At first, I was pretty apprehensive. I thought, am I gonna sound like Vanilla Ice or something? It’s one of those things where I thought for a long time, this is not really my thing. I’m not really that much into rap, mostly because of the subject matter and the essential prerequisites for being taken seriously in that area. It’s a very groin-based approach. I started to become aware of some artists moving it a little bit toward the head, and that’s when I got the idea that perhaps I might take a crack at it and see what I could do with it in terms of appropriating it to my own style.

RA: Which artists are you referring to?

TR: Well, there was PM Dawn and Arrested Development, KLF, and various other people where the subject matter would get off the usual street rap kind of gun-packin’, ho-beatin’ biggest penis in the land kind of approach. And then there’s the dance factory, quasi-industrial music machine approach, where rap essentially had to do with exhortation to boogie and that wasn’t really my thing either. So, putting a social conscience into the form made it seem like there was a little more freedom for me to do my own thing, which isn’t necessarily any of the above!

RA: You mentioned in the past that at times you felt that your lyrics could get a bit obtuse. Lyrically, the ideas on No World Order come through in a vividly direct way. Did rap’s influence cause you to approach your lyrics differently?

TR: The essential freedom that rap brings you … well, there are two things. One, certain words when spoken don’t sound as goofy as when you try and sing ‘em. Some words just don’t sing well, so if you’re speaking, you have the latitude to use certain words and phrases that just wouldn’t translate into melodic context. In addition, there’s a rhythmic freedom that comes with it. Melody implies a certain motif of rhythm in order for the melody to be recognized. At least, in pop music, it’s by implication a repetitious theme. The advantage in rap is that you’re not always stuck in the same rhythmic mode; you can do a lot of things that make it much more interesting from phrase to phrase. I’m not looking to completely deconstruct the elements of repetition or form; at the same time, I’m trying to take advantage of whatever freedom is there.

RA: The new album possesses a certain link with 1973’s A Wizard, A True Star in the way that both albums seethe with invention. No World Order sounds like a rediscovery of the fun you had making the former album.

TR: I had a lot of fun, actually, once I had really gotten the concept down of what I wanted to do. There were musical goals, there were technological challenges, and between the two of them, I had an opportunity to rethink my approach to music. In other words, with the final version of the album that came out, I really didn’t know what it would be, even after I had recorded all of the music and gotten it all cut up into this sort of database of musical ideas. When I finally got down and said, “okay, it’s time to put together fifty-plus minutes of music that’s gonna make up this first pass of the record,” I didn’t have a lot of rules. I could really experiment with the order of the musical ideas, even with how the lyrics were set up and framed. The ability to, for instance, push them to the front by taking various instruments out. I had three or four different versions of every part of the songs that would have various combinations of instruments and voices. As I went along, I could emphasize and de-emphasize various aspects of the performance, kind of in a cut-and-paste way. It wasn’t like this long, seething, and evolving concept that could only come out one way, like (XTC’s) Skylarking was. A Wizard, A True Star, even though it has this stream of consciousness quality about it, I didn’t have the freedom afterward to rearrange things; as the recording progressed, I know how the sequence of events was gonna come out. In the case of No World Order, I finished the recording process, but I had no idea exactly what order the songs would come in or whether they would come out as whole songs. In the final product, songs come in as fragments; they’re split up in two or three different places throughout the record. It was a whole chance to reassess how I wanted the album to sound.

RA: You mentioned Skylarking. As a producer, the number of artists you’ve worked with over the years is quite large and the musical diversity of these projects underscores your own. Which of these experiences provided the most challenge and satisfaction?

TR: The challenging albums usually are by nature──if I know what the challenge is before I go in──the more satisfying ones. You can get a lot of satisfaction out of an album that seems to be really easy to complete, but often the particularly challenging albums hold out a reward that’s kind of uncommon, like panning for gold or something. You don’t always go into it with the total confidence of achieving that goal, sometimes not even with a 100% clear vision of what the goal is, just a great belief in the potential. In the case of Skylarking, there was always a great belief in the potential; the hardest part about getting there was really [laughs] the politics of getting the final performance, because there was such a rich vein of musical ideas to tap into. I actually had pretty much the concept of the album, even the running order of the tunes, settled before we even started recording. I was fairly confident that I would be satisfied with the final product. The hard part was whether we would ever get it finished!

RA: A quick production question: What’s the secret behind the Todd Rundgren drum sound?

TR: [Chuckles] I don’t know! When I first got into recording, it was the instrument that I invested the most time in, trying to get the sounds that I wanted out of the drums. At this point, it’s really just second nature. It doesn’t take me a long time. It’s more unusual to not be able to get a good drum sound nowadays than it is to be able to get one. In other words, it has to be a peculiar combination of a strange drums and a bad microphone or something like that. Usually, given somebody’s raw tapes──unless they’ve done a really bad job of recording──I can get the sound I want out of must about any recording situation.

RA: Given the exponential pace of change in recording technology and your fascination with it, as a songwriter and a musician, can you paint a picture of what you perceive the musical environment may look like in ten or twenty years’ time?

TR: Ten or twenty years’ time! Well, I imagine just about the time I get into this more technical, contemporary approach to music, everyone will decide that they just want to hear folk music. [Laughs] Plain old, you know, troubadours just strumming, simple ensembles and things like that. I’m expecting at some point there’ll be a reactionary phase if, in the long haul, things are evolutionary. It used to be that music was──before there was recording──always an event. Any kind of ensemble music was an event because it required you to be there listening to it in real time; there was no way to capture the music for later replay. Recording has changed a lot of the ground rules of music to the point that people don’t see music as being a singular event, something where you actually have to be in the presence of a musician to enjoy it, and so people apply music to all other circumstances in their lives. They listen to it while they drive the car, do their aerobics to it, they dance to it, do chores while it’s on, they expect to see video with it, they hear it behind advertisements for products. I remember in the ‘60s when a Beatles album would come out, it was like “shutter the windows, lock the doors, and turn off all outside stimuli, sit down and listen to the Beatles record five times through … and people don’t do that anymore. Music is an adjunct to other things. So, if there’s a reaction, or even an evolution, it may get to the point where music again becomes an event where you may go  out to hear music that you’re completely unfamiliar with, a unique circumstance. The same way, one hundred years ago, the way a composer would debut a piece of new music, and there would be one performance on which so much would hinge. Like Ravel’s first performance of Bolero, which most people didn’t even hear the end of because there was so much racket going on in the audience──so much reaction to the newness of the music. Things may evolve to where music is the singular focus and the actual notes, the performance of the music, will become an event, not necessarily the antics of the performer.

RA: Speaking of performances, what about yourself?

TR: I’ll be going out this fall to do an interactive live show; it’ll be different every night, and there will be some degree of audience participation in the direction of the concerts, although I’m not sure what that’s gonna be yet!

We’ll find out soon enough: Todd Rundgren is bringing his interactive show to town on December 4^th at the Roseland in New York City.

© Roy Abrams 2021

Originally published in The Island-Ear, December 5, 1993

 

 

 

 

The Archive Series: David Crosby and Graham Nash - June 1996

 

Crosby, Stills & Nash: Back On Their Feet & On The Road

Well, it’s summertime again, which is prime touring season for the majority of artists. At the Jones Beach Amphitheater, Crosby, Stills and Nash have appeared nearly every summer since the venue began its rock concert program. In 1994, celebrating the band’s 25^th anniversary, as well as promoting their newest album, After the Storm, CSN hit the road with a vengeance. In the middle of everything, the tour ground to a premature halt due to David Crosby’s failing liver. After receiving a liver transplant in November of that year, Crosby focused his sights on regaining his health, while Stills and Nash busied themselves with individual musical projects. Stephen Stills toured America last year with his own band, coming to New York City’s Tramps last June and delivering a knockout performance. Graham Nash concentrated on putting the finishing touches on his one-man, multi-media show, dubbed LifeSighs. A project which had been evolving for several years, Nash took LifeSighs on the road briefly this spring, postponing the remainder of the tour until the fall.

The final months of 1995 saw David Crosby back on his feet and back on stage. CSN performed a handful of gigs as a sort of warm-up for a Crosby/Nash tour, which came to Westbury Music Fair last November. The success of these shows set the plans in motion for the current CSN tour, which began in May and will run through September.

I caught up with David Crosby and Graham Nash for a conversation about things past, present, and future.

Roy Abrams: I hear that the shows are going to be a little different this time around.

Graham Nash: Yeah, they are a bit different. We decided that we would do a bunch of songs that we’ve never done before and a bunch of songs that we very rarely did.

RA: Can you elaborate?

David Crosby: Oh, man … where are you?

RA: New York. I’ll be seeing you at Jones Beach.

DC: Oh, Jones Beach? No, I can’t tell you. Well, I can tell you, but I’d have to kill you. Well, we just changed the set up. Probably two-thirds of it is different than the last tour, at least.

RA: Are you going out acoustically or with a full band?

GN: This’ll be a full band. We have Michael Finnigan on organ and vocals, Joe Vitale on drums, and Gerald Johnson on bass.

RA: Graham, how did your initial LifeSighs concerts go down?

GN: They went extremely well. I was very happy. It was very enjoyable to be actually doing it instead of talking about it. It was a long project; it was four years of work. Of course, I’ve shut it down for the summer because CSN is out, then I’ll fire up again in the fall.

RA: Are you planning New York area shows?

GN: Yeah, I’m hoping to.

RA: There’s a group called The Posies which bears a remarkable vocal similarity to The Hollies. Have you ever heard them?

GN: Yeah, I’ve heard them. They did a Hollies song, as a matter of fact.

RA: Right, on that Hollies tribute album, The Hollies Sing in Reverse. What did you think of that?

GN: I that that whole album was fabulous. I really liked “Jennifer Eccles” by that guy, I think he calls himself “E.” It was pretty cool.

RA: Who are some up and coming singers whose harmonic ability has really turned your head?

DC: The best new practitioners are the black groups like Boyz II Men. There are two or three other black vocal groups, but particularly Boyz II Men are incredible harmony singers. They’re just stunners. But the people that I’m really fascinated with are the singer/songwriters. The ones that just kill me are still the ones that killed me last year: Shawn Colvin, Marc Cohn, Paul Brady, and Michael Hedges (who opened CSN’s ’92 tour).

RA: The last time we spoke, you both mentioned that there were several projects planned for 1996, but you couldn’t go into detail at the time. Aside from this current tour, what else is in the cards for this year?

GN: I think we’re gonna go into the studio in October to cut a new record, then I’m gonna take LifeSighs out again in the fall.

DC: I’m writing a book. We just sold a book to Harper/Collins that I’m doing, called Stand Up and Be Counted.

RA: What’s the subject matter?

DC: Benefits, peace marches, civil rights demonstrations, anywhere where we played for a cause rather than cash.

RA: During one of our earlier conversations, you said that there was a whole wealth of archival material that never made it to the CSN boxed set: demos, first takes, unreleased tracks. At the time, your thought was that we’d get to hear them at some point.

DC: Yeah, we could do it, but the only people who would want it are total fanatic fans. Do you know how many of them there are? About thirteen.

RA: Well, I must be one of those thirteen people …

DC: [Laughing] Okay, then fourteen! Maybe sometime it’ll happen, but it’s not a high priority to the people who are counting numbers, ‘cause there’s just not that many people who really care that much.

RA: David, you and Chris Hillman had approached Roger McGuinn after contributing vocals to four new Byrds tracks for that group’s boxed set. At that point McGuinn wasn’t interested in doing any more work in that vein, although you and Hillman were eager to do so. Has there been any change in McGuinn’s attitude since then?

DC: No. I’ve seen him since then because we got together when they did a CD-ROM for Forrest Gump, and Roger and I did an interview for it. We’re still friends; I like the guy a lot. He just doesn’t want to do The Byrds and that’s his right, that’s his privilege. I think he’s being a complete fool because it’s great music and we could have a tremendous amount of fun doing it and everybody wants to hear it. I can’t tell him what to do; he’s a grownup.

RA: For the past few years, you’ve spoken about your desire to do another Crosby/Nash album. With all of the current activity, do you foresee this happening sometime down the road?

DC: Graham and I really miss doing that. Those were some of the best records either of us ever made in in our lives. Wind on the Water … that era contained some of the best music we ever made and we miss it a lot. We still have a very strong urge to do that. I also just love making solo records! That last live one that I did was such a kick in the head. I had so much fun doing it!

RA: “Camera,” from the After the Storm album, was the second time that you ever shared writing credits with Stephen (the first being “Wooden Ships”). How did that collaboration come to pass?

DC: He came up with a chorus. I wrote the whole song. I had a chorus, and he had a better one. [Laughs] I said, “There you are, we just wrote a song together!”

RA: Speaking of choruses, your voice brought the chorus of the first single (“Hold My Hand”) by the ubiquitous Hootie and the Blowfish to life. How’d you get involved with that project, and what are your thoughts on the way they’re getting slammed by the media despite their obvious commercial success?

DC: Well, I can’t explain the media … the media slams us, too. I have no idea why. They’re really nice guys. Their producer is an old friend of mine. He and a woman named Jenna Rankin was who was working for Atlantic Records are the reasons why I wound up singing on the record. I went over, listened to the tune, met the guys. They were really sweet kids; I mean, they’re not kids, but to me, they’re kids. They were young, very innocent very nice kids──nice people──and I liked them, so I did the harmonies.

RA: I interviewed one of your old friends recently, John Sebastian. One of the subjects we touched upon was Woodstock ’94. Compared to both your predictions about and memories of the event from prior interviews, Sebastian’s recollections were a bit softer in tone. Has the passage of time altered your memory of the event in any way?

DC: Nah. I saw it as a media zoo. I saw it as way too contrived. Yes, some good music did get played, and music will always triumph over all that other bullshit, because music is magic. Some magic did take place because music determinedly went out there and did its thing. But, Christ, you couldn’t go two feet without some dork saying [assumes pompous newscaster voice] “How’s this different from the first time, Dave?” It was too contrived, man, way too contrived.

RA: Last question: When you and I spoke last fall, you told me you had songs cooking all the time. How many have popped out of the oven since then?

DC: It’s a secret. I have some that I really love. Let’s leave it at that.

Crosby, Stills & Nash will be at Jones Beach on June 21 and 22.

© Roy Abrams 2021

Originally published in The Island-Ear, June 10-23, 1996

The Archive Series: Graham Nash - September 1995

 

Graham Nash: A Man and His Music Go Multi-Media

Some people are thinkers, others are doers. Graham Nash has always been part of the latter group. From his early days in The Hollies to the hey-day of Crosby, Stills and Nash up through the present, Nash has always remained focused on whatever he sets his mind to. As Nash has always maintained, it is quite possible to change the world──as long as you have the information available on how to go about doing it. As a parent, Nash has grown more deeply concerned with the issues facing children coming of age today’s society than probably any other socio-political movement he’s been involved with. Grappling with the challenge of how to best address the matter, Nash is putting the finishing touches on what he hopes will not only be one man’s solution, but also a revolutionary form of entertainment designed for everyone to enjoy.

LifeSighs, as the new entertainment form is dubbed, is the combined brainstorm of Nash and the technical wizardry of digital designer Rand Wetherwax (with technology supplied by Silicon Graphics, Inc.) wherein the audience will experience a “one-man, musically-driven, multi-media theatrical production,” designed as much for their empowerment as for their entertainment. In a nutshell, by guiding the audience on a historical journey through his own life, Nash hopes to be able to both educate and inspire others to take action on issues that affect their lives.

The genesis of LifeSighs goes back to the mid-‘80s, when Nash was doing some college speaking engagements. “I just saw the original notes on the speech that I gave at four colleges in 1986, the first one being Kent State, which was very interesting,” Nash explained. “The colleges had asked me to speak. I accepted the gigs and then panicked. I had no idea what they wanted me to talk about. You know, give me a guitar , I’ve got you for at least a couple of hours, but the thought of speaking was kind of terrifying. They said, ‘We just wanna know about you, about your early beginnings with The Hollies, coming across to America, David, Stephen, Woodstock, Kent State, the environmental movement, the No Nukes movement, and all that.’ So, I put together this outline and gave these speeches including a half-hour question-and-answer session, and it was absolutely fabulous. After a while, I began to realize that if the kids could see what I was talking about──no matter where I went or how deep into it──then this would be a new form of entertainment.”

“In the late ‘80s,” Nash continued, “I met Rand Wetherwax, who seemed to be the kind of person who would be able to translate what I wanted into the computer world. So, when he heard what I wanted to do, he told me it was possible but that the technology was still six months to a year away. It’s been since 1988 that we’ve been working on this.”

As one might imagine, rehearsals for an undertaking such as this would bear little resemblance to standard tour preparation, although practice remains a key component. “What we’re doing is rehearsing each segment and at the same time trying to make the segments flow seamlessly together,” Nash said. “We’re accessing massive amounts of data from my life in real time. We’ve created this database that’s kind of like a time tunnel of my life from the day I was born to the night of the show in whatever city I’m in. All of it is accessible to me in past, present, and future (tense), in great depth. If I want to talk about Kent State for two minutes one night and 10 minutes the next, I’ve got at least 20 minutes of information on that subject in the database. I don’t know where I’m going to be going and that’s kind of the thrilling part, it’s a voyage of discovery on my part also.”

Accompanying Nash on his voyage will be CyberGraham, a 20-foot-tall three-dimensional digital puppet that Nash refers to as “my conscience, my jester, and (someone to) keep me honest throughout the show. He’s the only thing in the show that’s not at my control. There’s a voice actor backstage and the puppet’s mouth is lip-synced to the words coming out of the mouth of the operator. When you see it 20 feet high talking to me in real time, it’s pretty impressive.”

How does one go about creating a digital alter-ego? “About three or four years ago, as part of the process of putting this together, I went to Silicon Graphics and had my head scanned,” Nash explained. “I sat there and had this 360-degree scanner whiz ‘round my head a few thousand times, creating digital information of my face, which was eventually transformed into a three-dimensional moving puppet.”

Music will play an integral part in the production, to be sure, with Nash’s extensive catalog providing the material. There will be plenty of chestnuts (“Military Madness,” “Chicago,” “Cathedral,” “Wind On The Water”) and newer songs like “Unequal Love” and “Liar’s Nightmare.” For the final song, Nash plans to video interview a random selection of audience members prior to each concert, asking them about their dreams. The resultant video montage will be included in the performance of “Find a Dream” Needless to say, the tour will be a series of unique events in which the audience will have a direct impact upon the nature of each show.

Nash is planning on hitting the road soon, although the exact tour dates and venues are still being worked out. “Because the technology is being driven by our needs,” he said, “it’s slower to plan out than usual. I know that I’m going out this fall, it’ll be a 30-city tour. Right now, we’re looking at 800 to 2,000 seat theaters or college venues, something small and intimate.”

Commenting on the ground-breaking nature of LifeSighs, Nash is very matter of fact. “It’s certainly very different and very unknown, and I don’t believe anyone has attempted this at all. People have worked with parts of this, but nobody has done what I’m trying to do.”

Graham Nash retains all of the enthusiasm of a young boy when talking about this latest project of his. You can be sure that by the time he takes LifeSighs on the road, it will be the embodiment of all the creativity and energy that has come to define an artist who has, in his own way, managed to change the world.

© Roy Abrams 2021

Originally published in The Music Paper, September 1995

The Archive Series: Ian Anderson - September 1995

 

Ian Anderson: Making the Rules and Breaking the Rules

No one could ever accuse Ian Anderson of being at a loss for words. As one of rock music’s most articulate spokesmen, Anderson has never hesitated to speak his mind both powerfully and lyrically. His innate intelligence and wit, not to mention an extremely musical mind, is the backbone of Jethro Tull, whose eclectic sound remains unduplicated by any “son of” band to this day. Anderson has grown older gracefully and is known not only as one of rock’s elder statesmen, but also as a highly successful businessman in Great Britain.

With more than a quarter century at the helm of Jethro Tull, Anderson has seen a lot of things come and go in the music business, and with time comes perspective. As economics have come to play an even greater role in the music business, many artists never miss the chance to spew bile when discussing the industry. Not Anderson. “Well, it’s a two-edged sword,” he counters. “I think, on the one hand, it’s good for the record industry that it has become very business-like, necessarily engaged with the realities of selling the product, so these days record companies tend not to be run by frivolous, flighty personalities like Richard Branson or Chris Blackwell; it tends to be run by hard and fast business-type people who understand the job they’re doing and understand the world that they’re working in. The downside, from the artist’s point of view, is that things do come down to dollars and cents. At the end of the day, not many artists are going to be encouraged to do things that don’t have an obvious payoff. I still feel that the bleating, the moaning, the self-pitying of people like George Michael are to be deplored, because the bottom line is that there are record companies out there who will make the effort if they believe in the artist if the artist gives them the sense of wanting to believe in them. But if you go about your business with the sort of precious sense of, ‘I am the pop star. I’m gonna do what I like and I’d also like a $20 million advance, by the way, before I give you a record,’ you can’t really expect too much in the way of sympathy or, ultimately, respect if you don’t deliver the goods. My feeling is that you just have to understand that from the artist’s point of view, it’s too easy to blame the record company and from the record company’s point of view, it’s too easy to follow the lure of the greenback dollar. But the mold is broken from time to time, and the mold is broken happily, because out of it comes music that I think we’re all delighted to hear, which we all recognize breaks the rules and, almost in spite of itself, happens to appeal to a lot of people.”

Regarding the current state of musical affairs, Anderson looks westward across the Atlantic and sees interesting things afoot, singling out Pearl Jam and Soundgarden for special praise. “I’m beginning to get that feeling from some of the newest bands, who are mostly of North American origin, not British. I am not enamored of the current state of UK pop and rock music, which I think is insular, very inbred, and rather precious. It doesn’t really have the earthiness of a lot of the American bands at the moment. American music, once in a while, shows us all the way.”

A conversation with Anderson brings with it a great deal of insight, candor, self-deprecating wit and, perhaps more than anything, the feeling of one who is still very much inspired to make music to maintain a creative edge.

With the recent release of his solo instrumental album, Divinities: Twelve Dances With God (Angel), the feeling is proven correct. As the album title suggests, the work consists of 12 separate musical pieces, each focused upon one of the world’s religions, both current and primitive, yet working together to form a cohesive whole. This religious theme has found its way into much of Anderson’s work; thinking back to the incendiary lyrics of “My God” and “Wind Up,” I wondered if Anderson’s religious perspective had undergone a mellowing metamorphosis.

“Well, I don’t think it’s really changed fundamentally,” he said. “It’s become a bit more refined, a bit broader in terms of the detail and the awareness of religion in its broadest sense. I think the main difference (with the new album) is I’m trying to focus on the ‘up’ side of religion in the way in which it represents (to me) something very unifying. There’s a unifying thing about religious belief that we can all benefit from. I don’t think that anyone could argue that the God of Islam, the God of Judaism, and the God of Christianity are different. We’re all dating the same gal! That’s something that would do so much good for us to teach our children. On Aqualung I was being a little negative about the aspects of dogma and ritual as they affect religion, primarily in terms of Catholicism. Here I’m trying to look at the positive side; I see (Catholicism) as something that makes Italian footballers burst into tears on their mother’s birthday.”

The origin of Divinities is an interesting story in itself. It seems that Anderson had been putting off overtures from Angel Records, EMI’s classical division, who had requested to meet with the artist to discuss a project they had in mind. Anderson takes it from here. “I put if off for about six months, then eventually went to explain to then this sort of thing was not what I thought they had in mind. Indeed, they didn’t want to do ‘Jethro Tull Meets the London Symphony’ nor did they want Ian Anderson to attempt the impossible, which is playing the flute to the melodies of Mozart. They wanted me tow rite some music with the flute as the main instrumental voice, but for other orchestral instruments (as well). I’m choosing these words carefully to avoid suggesting that they wanted me to make a classical record. It made me a little nervous because it wasn’t something I thought I had the skill to do.”

Elaborating further while getting in a sly last word, Anderson explained, “I’m just an amateur fooling at it; there are probably a bunch of second-year college students at the Royal Academy of Music in London who could wipe the floor with me in terms of orchestration and music writing, but they don’t have a record deal and I do!”

© Roy Abrams 2021

Originally published in The Music Paper, September 1995

The Archive Series: David Crosby and Stephen Stills - June 1994

In 1994, CSN celebrated their 25th anniversary as a band by releasing their fifth studio album, embarking on an extensive North American tour, and appearing as featured performers at the feted Woodstock '94 event that summer. This was the only time that I interviewed both David Crosby and Stephen Stills on the same day. David's interview took place at the scheduled time, while Stephen's interview kept being pushed back to the point where we spoke during his ride on the way to the band's gig that night. It was worth the wait. Read and enjoy!

5+20: Long Time Gone

If three people were ever meant to sing together, the hand of fate certainly chose well: David Crosby, one of the original Byrds; Stephen Stills, the musical wizard of Buffalo Springfield; Graham Nash, harmony master of the Hollies. Over the past twenty-five years, CSN has created many moments of pure musical brilliance, on group, solo, and various other efforts. Currently in the midst of their 25^th Anniversary tour, the band just completed their first album in four years and is looking forward to the future with all──if not more──of the same boundless energy, enthusiasm, and sheer love of music that drew these very different individuals together in the first place.

I spoke with David Crosby and Stephen Stills just prior to a show on their current tour …

Roy Abrams: What are your thoughts on playing your second Woodstock gig? [Note: this interview took place prior to CSN’s appearance at Woodstock ’94 on August 13]

Stephen Stills: Well, listen──I’m amazed. I’m amazed that we’re still doing it, I’m amazed that we got invited back, I’m amazed that we placed high enough on their whatever computer thing … it’s really weird. It’s gonna be a zoo, but I’m looking forward to it.

David Crosby: I don’t think it’s gonna bear any resemblance to the first one. The nature of a live performance is you can’t recreate a live performance──that’s inherent in a live performance. The event that happened was a very, very special moment in history, when an entire generation of people looked at each other and said, “God, there’s a lot of us and we are different.” What’s gonna happen this time is an entirely different ballgame. It’s a corporate venture; it’s owned and run by corporate America. There is a chance──because music is magic──that the music will transcend and what will happen musically will be an amazing experience. But what happened the first time was something that happened with the people, not the music. What really created the first Woodstock was the people that were there and how they behaved with each other──that was real magic. The music was good──I’m not knocking it──but the event happened with the people. This time, they’re gonna try their best to control the people, control the circumstance and sell ‘em a lot of Pepsi.

RA: How’s the new album coming?

DC: It’s finished! Actually, we had it finished, then we cut a single that Stephen wrote. After we finished the record, Stephen wrote another great song.

SS: I actually did it in three days. I can still do that stuff. My producer couldn’t come back and we just went in and did it ourselves, just like the old days.

RA: What’s the album called? Can you talk about some of the tracks?

SS: It’s called After the Storm, appropriately enough. There’s a song of Graham’s called “Unequal Love” that sometimes gets a standing ovation for the first verse, just how beautifully the lyric fits together, and how it touches people. There’s another song of his called “Find a Dream” that I really love. There’s a song of David’s called “Camera,” which has got a really Latin feel. I wrote the chorus to it. I don’t know, sometimes I open up when it’s not my song! [laughs]

DC: Unusual for me, my songs are all “up” kind of rockers rather than ballads. I’m being completely immodest here, but the songs are very, very strong and I think it’s gonna be the best record we’ve made in about fifteen years. At least partially, maybe very largely, due to the involvement of (producer) Glyn Johns  I mean, the guy’s made half of the good records that ever got made. He acted as a catalyst in a wonderful fashion. We had also been smiled on by the Muse, and had a bunch of really good songs, and the result was a very real, very human, very in-your-face kind of record. It’s not produced a lot. There’s not a whole lot of tricks and synthesizers and samplers. It’s real people playing real songs and making you feel real stuff. I think that’s where we shine, so I think that’s entirely appropriate.

RA: Stephen, there have been unconfirmed stories of a Buffalo Springfield reunion circulating for years. Have the original five of you worked together at all since the split?

SS: Yeah, we sat down, worked for a few days, and then Neil (Young) got involved with something else … Richie (Furay) showed up all the way from Colorado to L.A. and got real mad about having his time wasted.

RA: Was anything recorded?

SS: Nothing that’s presentable. There was a little (tape) machine sitting in the middle of the room.

RS: “Love Story” from the 1975 Stills LP must stand as one of the great unheralded classics …

SS: Somebody should make it into a Broadway play!

RA: I was wondering what are some of your personal favorites that you feel may have been overlooked?

SS: Oh boy that’s a hard one. I’m into the “right now,” I don’t really look back at those. Get a few drinks in me and I’ll be able to tell you!

RA: What do you credit your trademark acoustic guitar sound to? Is it a playing approach or more of a studio engineering thing?

SS: Well, first you get a fifty-year-old guitar, [laughs] and that’ll run you $100,000 or so, and you play it really hard. An engineer that I used to work with said that he’s been asked about a dozen times, “How do you get Stephen Stills’ guitar sound?” And he said, “Well, first you get a fifty-year-old guitar!”

RA: As a bass player, I’ve always admired your technique and feel for the bass. Who influenced your playing style?

SS: Chuck Israels, who was a jazz bassist back in the early ‘60s; James Jamerson from Motown; Duck Dunn.

RA: You’ve been a highly visible supporter of the Democratic Party for years. Any thoughts on how President Clinton’s doing so far?

SS: He’s doing okay. This is a very strange time. I mean, we’re in the final stages of media overkill that makes it hard to figure out if he’s doing any good or not. The bimbo eruptions [laughs] and the stupidity; things that don’t matter.

RA: If you were responsible for assembling a CSN musical time capsule, which songs would you choose?

DC: Oh God, I couldn’t do that, man. It’s like asking, which one of your children would you choose.

RA: The songs are that close to you?

DC: Yeah. And I think we have a higher percentage of songs that do last than almost anybody. I think a lot of Dylan’s songs will last, a lot of The Band’s, a lot of ours. There are a few more … there’s Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne, and James Taylor──songs you’ll never forget──but that’s only a handful of performers out of the overall bunch.

RA: After knowing and working with each other for twenty-five years, is it at all possible to describe the chemistry between you, and can you put your finger on what’s kept it going?

DC: The chemistry is constantly changing because the guys don’t stay the same. What keeps it going is that we all really love music. We got into this thing for music before there was any money to be made; there was no MTV, there was no Rolling Stone. That’s still alive and kicking. What draws us is when we have songs that really move us. We listen to the songs and we say, “Mmmmm … gotta make a record!”

SS: The noise that we make when we open our mouths together is a gift from God. The marriage has been an absolute bitch. It’s a freak of nature, actually.

RA: What have you learned from each other, musically or otherwise?

SS: I think we’ve probably just beaten off a few corners, softened up a few edges. But that question invites much too long a reply than we have time for. What have I learned from them? I learned a lot of what not to do, but I learned lots of stuff to do.

DC: Stephen is such an amazing instrumentalist (and) has taught me lots about the guitar. Nash is──although I hate to admit it──probably the best harmony singer (although I tell everybody it’s me), and I’ve learned things about that from him. What I’ve learned personally is the value of friendship and the value of patience and the value of long-lasting, loyal work with each other.

RA: CSN’s popularity, or should I say influence, has proven over the years to rank along with some pretty good company, like The Beatles, the Stones, and Dylan. In terms of your impact on both the public and other musicians, does it amaze you that you’ve been able to accomplish this on the strength of comparatively few albums over a long period of time?

SS: Well, it amazes me that we don’t get the big bucks like the Rolling Stones. It makes me think we’re stupid [chuckles] ’cause everybody says that. That’s the only response I really have. Yeah, I’m amazed. I’m totally amazed.

DC: I think it’s served us well to only make records when we really thought we had the songs, and when we really wanted to, and not to have to crank ‘em out every year. I confess that I try not to think too much about what our place in musical history might be, because I think that’s unhealthy. You wind up thinking [in theatrical voice], “Gee, how significant I am!” [laughs] I don’t think that works too well, but I do think that we probably have made our mark.

Crosby, Stills and Nash will be appearing at Jones Beach on August 17^th.

 © Roy Abrams 2021

Originally published in The Island-Ear, August 8-21, 1994 issue

The Archive Series: Robbie Robertson - November 1994

Meeting Robbie Robertson was a fascinating experience. Read and enjoy!

Robbie Robertson is hailed by critics, fans, and his fellow songwriters as the man primarily responsible for creating the vision of The Band, certainly among the most influential groups that ever existed. Robertson’s magic lay in his ability to capture the essence of the American spirit and character, filtered through his Canadian background; an outsider looking in. On his newest project, Music for the Native Americans, Robertson has gone in the opposite direction. Looking inward to his own Native American roots (he’s part Mohawk), Robertson, along with a stellar cast of Native American musicians collectively known as The Red Road Ensemble, has released the most inspired work since his days with The Band. During a recent conversation, Robertson was very clearly a man satisfied with the results, and more than eager to discuss it.

Roy Abrams: It must have been fairly revelatory, to say the least, for you to be exploring from within this time around.

Robbie Robertson: What the revelation was, and I didn’t know until we were actually doing it, that we’d be working on music, and I’d say, wait a minute, I’ve got an idea. And I would hum a melody or I would make a rhythm sound with my mouth or something and (the other musicians) would say, “Where did that come from? It sounds familiar to me.” And I’d say, it does, it sounds familiar to me … from when I was three years old, and I’m remembering things that were so packed down inside you that you don’t even remember actually where you took it from. It’s like going to a place that you’ve never been before; you get there and say, “Wait a minute, I know this place.” It was like that! This was something that, my whole life I’ve been gathering pieces for this project along the side of the road; it’s all been leading up to this, but you don’t know it until you get there.

RA: With all the various Native American musicians you worked with, were there any moments you felt as if you were receiving musical, if not downright spiritual, gifts?

RR: Hundreds of them! For instance, we’d be in the studio , and the women would be lighting sweetgrass and kind of purifying themselves, purifying the atmosphere; just trying to set it up so you can get in the zone, you know what I mean? (So) there isn’t a bunch of crap between you and that place that you want to reach; a direct line into your soul, I guess. It was giving me chills, the ritual of preparation , and the song hadn’t even begun yet. I had never seen this in the studio before, and I’ve been in the studio a lot.

RA: I hear a nod toward Daniel Lanois and Peter Gabriel on several tracks regarding arrangement and production. You’ve worked with both men in the past. To what degree have they influenced you?

RR: The “soundiness,” yeah. Well, there’s two things. I think that Daniel and Peter are both incredibly talented people. I’ve known Peter for quite a few years now, longer than I’ve known Daniel, actually, but this was not my introduction to this. My introduction was doing music for film, working with Martin Scorsese. This “soundiness”──I don’t know what to call it──is also a Canadian thing. If you listen to records by Jane Siberry, the Cowboy Junkies, Joni Mitchell’s new record … I don’t know why, but it’s something that appeals to the peoples’ ear up there. That’s where it comes from for me, and Daniel is into this too, not because of Peter Gabriel or because of Brian Eno, (but) because of something in his background in Canada. It’s an odd thing. Not that many people know this connection.

RA: Two of your children appear on the record. Has their involvement deepened their awareness of their heritage? Also, how was it for Dad working with the kids?

RR: They’ve been hearing all their lives, from my mother, these stories, passing on traditions and stuff like that, what it was like when she was growing up, so they always had this input. For once, they had the opportunity to give something back. Because the nature of this project was so communal, the idea of involving some people in my family seemed as natural as taking a drink of water. It really felt like the right thing to do. For me, it was lovely, being able to have that connection.

RA: Who among the newer artists piques your interest, and how do you view the current state of musical affairs?

RR: I like some of the things that Trent Reznor does. I like the idea that he’s experimenting, that he’s trying things. [Pause] Sometimes anger for the sake of anger I find slightly repelling, but I think that that’s part of the idea. And it’s always been this way. People in their twenties──I don’t know how old these guys are in these groups──have this need for rebellion, and because nobody knows what they’re rebelling against, it just becomes anger for the sake of anger, and I get a little tired of that, but it’s just because I’m not in my twenties anymore, so I don’t have as big a use for what they’re getting at. I’m sure a lot of people who are completely in parallel with them think, “Yeah! Let’s smash some glass or listen to this music──whatever strikes us first.” But I think there’s some validity in their music. There’s a lot of new things out that I really like today, but very rarely do I hear a whole record that I like. I hear a few cuts that I like. That seems to be the major difference between now and what this music was at some paramount, in the late ‘60s or early ‘70s, when there was just so much good shit going on, like Stax, all the stuff that was coming in from England, Van Morrison, Dylan, The Band, Jimi Hendrix. It was like, “God, I’d better come up with something!” It was a very inspired period, and there’s no explanation for this, except that it was the voice of a generation, and people were very united. Now, it’s very dispersed.

RA: Speaking of inspiration, making the new album must have been quite an inspiring, and galvanizing, experience for you.

RR: Yeah, it has. In 1994, it’s pretty silly to say, “Oh, Indians? They’re just supposed to play drums and flutes, aren’t they?” Things have evolved, whether anybody’s noticed or not. One of the main reasons I wanted to make this record was to say (that) something’s been going on all these years, and there’s an evolution in the Native American community, and nobody’s aware of it. I’m really enjoying the idea of ripping down this curtain and saying, “Check it out──it’s not what you thought.”

RA: Would you ever consider something along the lines of what Peter Gabriel has done with WOMAD?

RR: It’s come up. There’s talk of this right now. In this situation, it’s a bit delicate. It’s not about “let’s take this baby on the road.” I’d love for people to be able to see what I’ve experienced. There’s nothing more you can ask out of music than when it just gives you chills. That’s the reason for doing it; that means it’s making an emotional connection to you. It’s the whole reason that I care about music; it’s why I got into at the very beginning.

© Roy Abrams 2021

Originally published in The Island-Ear, January 30-February 12, 1995 issue

The Archive Series: Mike Rutherford - December 1994

The second installment of the archival series, presented for your enjoyment is a 1994 conversation with Mike Rutherford of Genesis and Mike & The Mechanics. What stands out after all these years is how much Mike personified the quintessential English gentleman: friendly yet dignified, open yet reserved.

If you ask your average person on the street if they’ve heard of Mike Rutherford, you’re more than apt to receive a blank look. Ask instead if they’ve heard of Mike & The Mechanics, chances are you’ll score a bullseye. Considering that Mike Rutherford’s musical career stretches back some twenty years prior to the Mechanics’ debut release in 1985, this may seem somewhat strange, especially given the nature of Rutherford’s role in popular music. As bassist/guitarist and songwriter with Genesis, Mike Rutherford has steadily contributed a wealth of great songs over the years, from the so-called art rock of Genesis’ early days to the streamlined, pop-oriented group they’ve evolved into today. Additionally, Genesis has proven to be the only successful example of a band that can exist along with the solo careers of its individual members. After the band broke the American market in 1978 with And Then There Were Three, it was decided the time was right to embark upon solo projects.

Rutherford released two solo albums during the period 1979-1982, neither of which made any noticeable impact upon the public. It wasn’t until 1985, when he decided to present his next effort as more of a group project, that his career outside Genesis bore special interest. Mike & The Mechanics’ eponymous debut album yielded two top ten singles, “Silent Running” and “All I Need is a Miracle,” which provided Rutherford with the confidence to treat this project seriously. Two more albums followed, Living Years (1988) and Word of Mouth (1991), each one serving to build upon the previous album’s strengths, collectively securing a position in the current musical environment, far removed from Genesis. With the band’s newest release, Beggar On A Beach Of Gold, Rutherford now has two solid, distinct musical careers, each capable of co-existing with and complementing the other. A recent sit-down with Rutherford at his Manhattan record company’s office provided a wealth of information about the Mechanics, Genesis, and the inner workings of an artist who’s more than happy with his lot in life.

Roy Abrams: How would you characterize the Mechanics’ formative days?

Mike Rutherford: We kind of got lucky, I think. I did a couple of solo albums; they were okay, but I thought, I’m a songwriter, I want the best voices to sing my songs. At that stage, the solo album “tag” was not great. It was a bit like, “Oh God, another solo album from someone in a well-known band.” It almost put people off. So I thought, well, I’ll represent it as a band. I wrote the songs, first of all, then looked for the singers. Paul Carrack (Nick Lowe, Ace, Squeeze) came down. We didn’t know what we had, really. We had eight songs and (then) the album was out. We were amazed by the success.

RA: As a non-singing songwriter, what are the obstacles you face when writing for another voice?

MR: It’s a good question, because it’s always a problem, not being a singer. It’s been the bane of my life, ‘cause it’s so easy to sing your own songs! It’s so much harder to work through another voice. I’ve got two really good, intuitive singers (in both Pauls); they can take a melody and they’re not frightened to work with it, move it around a bit and humanize it. I don’t write for a specific voice, but when I’m doing it, I have an idea that this’ll be great for one Paul; this’ll be great for the other Paul. You’re not always right, but you often are. When happens is, later on, when the songs are kind of up and running, they both come down to my house; I’ve got a studio there. They’ll sing a bit of each──a verse and a chorus──and you can tell. It’s not me that decides, really, the voices decide. They could both sing the whole album fine, but one will get behind the emotion of some of the songs better than the other.

RA: With the Mechanics, you’ve been co-writing with producer Chris Neil and B. A. Robertson and I see Paul Carrack’s name on a couple of tracks on the new album. What's the nature of the collaboration compared with the way Genesis works?

MR: It’s different (with the Mechanics) because most of the time, I start off at my house, get something going, then the others come down, we mess around … actually, it isn’t that different; it’s just different people! It’s like if you have a conversation with two people, it’ll take you one way; two other people will take you another way.

RA: Your fellow Mechanics seems to have had a degree of influence upon your musical personality.

MR: The two Pauls have got a real R&B background; they’ve come up through that area, and I think that rubs off on me. I’m naturally a bit English in the way I write and in the way I do things. They seem to loosen me up, which is good.

RA: If memory serves me, you were heavily influenced by R&B yourself in Genesis’ early days.

MR: Yeah, although Peter (Gabriel) probably more than me. I was very much into Tamla-Motown, although when I started writing songs with Genesis, it seemed to be millions of miles away from Tamla. Those influences are always in you; once they’re in there, they’re in there. I think the Tamla-Motown period had some of the best songwriting that’s ever been.

RA: Are you consciously aware of any type of flow of ideas from the Mechanics to Genesis, and vice versa?

MR: No, I’m not, but it’s quite likely there. So much of what happens at this stage of your career, your musical life, is subconscious. Certain things must carry over a bit.

 RA: “The Living Years” was written after losing your father; as one of the most eloquent statements about loss, was the writing and recording of the song at all cathartic for you?

MR: It didn’t really help. It was painful. I wrote it with B.A. Robertson; he lost his father, too. It was upsetting for us to do. We had a few conversations about it, saying, “Look, is this right?” You’re in a difficult area there. We were worried that it would come out a bit schmaltzy … a little bit sweet and sort of awkward. B.A. and I said, “We’ll do it, and if it doesn’t feel good, we’ll scrap it.” The recording of it was very upsetting. We had to stop a few times, come back the next day. It didn’t really heal anything, but it was good to do, because it’s had this amazing effect on other people. To write a song that everyone likes is great, a bit of happiness, a bit of joy, but to have a song that actually changes people’s lives … that’s sort of incredible, really. It if only happens once in your career, it’s amazing.

RA: Many songwriters have their own method of doing things, as well as a distinct wellspring of inspiration. How about you?

MR: There isn’t. I don’t know where anything comes from. I do find that when it comes to writing, the less you think about it, the better. The worst thing to do in songwriting is to deliberately try, you know what I mean? There are two parts to writing, I feel. There’s a bit where something is formed, the original idea for a song or a section. That, for me, is the best moment of the whole process. After that is what I call the slog work, where I try to put it into form. That, to me, is less creative, and if I’m having a bad day, if nothing new is coming, I’ll move to something that’s up and running already, and try and develop that instead. It takes a bit of work … but the creative bit, when (the idea) first appears …  I don’t ask!

RA: Your guitar playing has evolved greatly over the years. After (Genesis guitarist) Steve Hackett left, how long did it take for you to get comfortable in the lead guitarist’s role?

MR: It took a good few years to really settle with me. I had to sit and figure out what I could do properly.

RA: The pressure on you during the making of And Then There Were Three (recorded just after Hackett’s departure) must have been pretty intense.

MR: Well, change is good. I didn’t look for the change when Steve left, but I believe that if you’re in a band, the more you can change, the better.

RA: As long as we’re on the subject of Genesis, any thoughts on Steve Hackett?

MR: I think he’s a very strong, unique player. I’m kind of surprised he left, but I understood it. His time was unfortunate. He left to do solo stuff, literally about a couple of years before we all thought the time was right. A band has to get to a certain level before it can take a couple of years off. I think he’s very original, Steve. But I think he’s a band player. I know he’s fronted other bands, but I think he would excel in a band situation where he wasn’t carrying the whole thing.

RA: 1977’s The Geese and The Ghost, from original Genesis guitarist Anthony Phillips, was almost a duo effort in that you performed on it, and most of the songs were co-written by you. (Phil Collins also appears on a couple of tracks.) Fans of the “early Genesis” sound view this record as a rare gem. Any plans to record with him again?

MR: Yeah, I might! I spoke to him about ten days ago. He’s godfather to my daughter. You never know!

RA: Do you keep in touch with any of the other ex-members of Genesis?

MR: Funnily enough, it’s actually quite an interesting time because I saw Pete (Gabriel) about ten days ago. I had a long meeting with him and Tony (Banks). We’ve been asked for years to do a rarities album, all these B-sides. We’ve always avoided it because they always get promoted as “The New Album,” and they’re not. We’re thinking of doing a boxed set thing, in three parts. The first part (would be) with Peter; unreleased live stuff. No one’s ever heard Peter sing “Supper’s Ready” live, I don’t think. We found some demos from the first album, sons that have never been heard by people. I think people who like Genesis would be interested in Pete’s singing. Good vocals, actually, rubbish backing harmonies from the rest of us──awful! We’ve talked about it, and I think we’re gonna finally put this together.

RA: Recording that first album must have been an extraordinary experience for a bunch of guys who were 15, 16, 17 years old at the time.

MR: It was great! You’re right, ‘cause in this day, anyone can go into a studio and make a couple of tracks. In those days, we were given a chance by Jonathan King, who was our producer on the first album, to make a record. That was a very important thing for us because although the record wasn’t very good, we saw what it was all about. To get a bunch of guys together at that age to make an album was unusual, and I think that really helped us.

RA: Phil Collins has gone on record about his belief that Tony Banks has become the single most important member of Genesis due to the fact that it’s his musical contribution to the group that keeps Genesis a unique entity apart from his solo career and yours. What are your thoughts on this?

MR: Well, there’s a lot in that. If you think about it, the way we work now, most of the time, when we go into the studio, Phil is singing, Tony’s playing keyboards, and I’m playing guitar, so an awful lot of the chord structures come from Tony. I think (Phil’s statement) is very true; he’s a very big part of Genesis.

RA: How have you been able to keep Genesis going in the light of the solo careers?

MR: We get on great, for a start. (But) we’re not the kind of band who carries on just because we get on great. When we go in to write a new album, it’s risky, the way we do it. We don’t take any songs in, we just go in and jam, and cross your fingers, on the spot, it’s always happened. And that inspires you to stay with it. With the solo stuff, if you have three guys in a band, you’ve got to accept that you’re gonna have certain levels of success. I mean, Phil’s had huge success, I’ve been in the middle, and Tony hasn’t done quite so well. No one begrudges anyone anything. I think if we were a lot younger, we’d have found it harder to take. When you’re young, you’re very sort of big-headed and you can’t see the big picture. I also think that because we’re not together all the time, that helps.

RA: How do you view the current musical environment?

MR: I like a lot of the American stuff. I like Nirvana, I like Pearl Jam, Hootie and the Blowfish. England, I would probably say, is less creative at the moment.

RA: What’s in the cards for Mike & The Mechanics in 1995?

MR: 1995 is the Mechanics’ year. Phil’s on tour until the summer and the Mechanics didn’t tour for the last album because it (conflicted with) the Genesis album. I think I’m gonna put the album out and get a feel as to what kind of a tour we’ll do.

RA: Any parting advice for the songwriter/musician?

MR: Be patient and don’t take short cuts.

RA: Did you ever foresee making a living from music, let alone a lifetime career?

MR: That’s the big difference between musicians starting now and our day. There was no idea that you could make any sort of living out of this. Money was not part of the equation. Now, people see that you can make money in this business, and I feel that it draws people in for the wrong reasons. In our day, all the bands were going around just having fun. Any new area of art or whatever you want to call it, when it starts it will be small and quite wild and fun; then it becomes bigger and it becomes a business and it’s developed into that. It’s a fact and you can’t change that. But it’s sad. I’m very glad I started when I did. In our day, there was one band the sounded like The Who, one band that sounded like Genesis, one band that sounded like The Kinks. There weren’t that many bands.

RA: You were trailblazing …

MR: Hopefully, yeah. But it’s interesting. Here we are, we’re still enjoying ourselves and──touch wood──doing well. It’s strange because it was meant to be music for young people. That was always the feeling, wasn’t it?

 

© Roy Abrams 2021

Originally published in The Island-Ear, March 13-26, 1995 issue