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Interview

Johnette Napolitano — Building On A Concrete Foundation

Johnette Napolitano is a hard rocking bass player, songwriter, and band leader. She first made her mark on rock history among the trailblazing women of the 70s and 80s who included Tina Weymouth (Talking Heads), Kim Deal (Pixies), and Kathy Valentine (Go-Gos).

At the time of this interview, Johnette was excited about her solo recordings and her creative work with Holly Vincent in their project Vowel Movement.

I began my conversation by asking if she had felt creatively restricted within the context of Concrete Blonde.

Johnette: The format was restricting in small ways. But, as we built up a catalog, I no longer felt that I had to do things that we could play live. If I wanted to record twelve or thirteen gospel vocals, I could do it and not worry about it. It was tremendously confusing for marketing people because whenever we made a record we would throw a little bit of everything on it. We enjoyed the diversity. We’re fortunate because our fans are extremely loyal people, they’re the greatest. We have good support there with people who are sensitive and intelligent. So I never felt restricted, but I could see that starting.

And that led to your decision to try something new?

I wasn’t challenged musically anymore and I just felt like I needed to do some other stuff, and I didn’t even know what it was, which was the scariest part. I had said that when our recording contract ran out, that would be it. I had thought that by that time we would all be ready to do something else.

And for you at least, that turned out to be true.

Yeah. I felt like a jerk last year sometimes, going out and doing the same songs and doing the same things. I felt like I could have kept doing it. You know, it’s money in the bank, all you have to do is go out and tour and sing ‘Joey’ a couple more times, but it just wasn’t any fun anymore. I was very unhappy, and it wasn’t the band’s fault, it was just the position that we were in. Jim and I are still the best of friends, and I’m really grateful for that because he’s a very special person. I was obviously worried about the guys, but I decided that everything would work out for the best.

But what a leap of faith that must have been!

Huge. People thought I was crazy, and that’s why I had to leave the country. In the situation I was in, you have various people who make their living off of you saying ‘what am I going to do now?’ It’s not just a happy little band anymore, it’s an actual organization with people depending on you, and it all got to be very much and that’s not the reason to make music. Just to create jobs is not the reason to do it. I realized that in years past, everything that I liked to do had become a job for someone else. I was left with a lot of time sitting around while someone else did the directing, the makeup, the stage and the guitar tuning, until a lot of the creativity of existence was not there for me. Finally I just wanted to get back in touch with what made me want to get up in the morning and really dig playing music and art and thinking of album covers and cool photos and all that.

How did the change affect your life as an artist?

Holly Vincent and I were given a small budget by Mammoth to film a music video for the Vowel Movement project and we shot it ourselves. It was so much fun because we were able to take the camera out and do our own shooting and do whatever we wanted. It really put the creativity back into what I was doing. I was an art student, and this is the kind of stuff that used to get me off. It was so much fun.

I’m happy to hear that you’re creating as much music as before.

Probably even more. My most important goal that I did reach was actually recording my own music myself for the next album. There really aren’t many women doing that. Kate Bush did it, but there really aren’t that many women that do their own technical work. For musicians in general, it’s hard to translate a sound unless you know the language and what the equipment does. I got my ADAT (digital recorder) and I’ve done some of the recording for the next album on my own. When I took that tape into the studio the other day, I was so scared. My engineer was there, and I said that I wanted to use the tape I had made on the new album. We put the music up on the big speakers and it sounded great. My levels were alright, everything was EQed properly, and I was so happy I couldn’t believe it. I really needed the boost because that was the same week that somebody stole my ’56 Les Paul Jr. that Jim Mankey gave me for Christmas two years ago. I was so upset I cried for three days. At the same time, to put my music up on the speakers having achieved something that meant so much to me was so cool.

What a thrill to hear the music played back and have it sound the way you wanted it to.

Oh, man, you wouldn’t have believed how good it felt. I almost started crying but I would have made a fool of myself. I couldn’t believe I did it. It was a really good feeling. So now I’m really encouraged and you can’t get me off the damn machine (laughs). I’m thirty-seven years old, and by this age a lot of people have stopped the learning process. That process should never stop, whether it’s acquiring another language or bettering your skills at work. So learning the technical end of recording was a major goal for me.

Had you already asserted yourself in the process of recording the last few Concrete Blonde albums?

I do get a lot of respect from the engineers that I work with and I’m glad about that. I worked at Gold Star for three years which is where Phil Specter did all his stuff. Plus, Jim and Earl Mankey are studio kings, and you don’t hang around those guys for ten years without learning a few things. So generally I have a whole lot to put in to that. I’m pretty obsessed with everything, down to miking the drums. Everything. A lot of people just want to smoke pot and not get invoved with the technical stuff, and then wake up frustrated with what they’ve done. It helps to be able to communicate in the language. When I used to work in the studio, the engineers would get so pissed off when bands would complain, ‘uh, it sounds like crap.’ The engineers would say, ‘Well, I’ll turn down the crap buttons, what sounds like crap? What are you trying to tell me?’

Were you involved with putting together the Concrete Blonde compilation?

That’s a good record and I had nothing to do with it. I.R.S. exercised their option to do that and they did a fantastic job. One song on the album, ‘Simple Twist of Fate’ is one of my favorite things we ever recorded. I barely remember doing it because we were so plowed, but it was the kind of thing where we thought ah, this is for nothing, it’s never going to be heard so we’ll just do what we want. But sure enough, Miles and the CIA found every tape. He must have had a bug on my eight-track at home, you know?

I love the sound on the live tracks, too.

Yeah, we’re pretty much into that. That’s always been our thing.

Are you comfortable expressing yourself on a variety of instruments?

Oh, yeah, I’ve always done that. I don’t play everything that great, but I really like to play everything. I’ve even got a set of drums and I’m working on combining the live drum sound with the drum machine, because I like the steady kick and snare, but I also like the human toms and high-hat. It’s a blast. I could spend all night and all day doing it, and I practically do!

It’s cool that you’re picking up on the drums, because I’ve always had the sense that you take a lot of joy in the physicality of playing music, especially as a bass player.

Definitely. Yeah. And that’s important on a lot of levels. Any art is a physical manifestation of a human emotion, and to do that makes you feel good, like you’ve worked off that energy. I’ve never been known for writing cheerful happy songs. I don’t know why that is, I don’t think I’m a really depressed person. It’s just that that’s the solace. When I’m down, that’s where I turn. It’s the physical act of doing it that makes it better. When I’m happy, I’ll be out hiking, or hanging out with the dog, or painting.

Is it hard to maintain that level of physical involvement night after night on a tour?

On the road that kind of gets over the top, it’s really physically a bastard. I’ve had trouble the last couple of years just keeping up. When Concrete Blonde cut ‘Sex Beat’ by the Gun Club, my God, we had to sit down like three times during the take because it was so fast (laughs). It was like, ‘Whoa, were we on speed when we were fifteen and we used to do this? Jesus, I’ve gotta rest!’ But you’re right, there is a fine line between your mind and your body. I work out and I’m very much into the mental and physical balance.

Well, I think you’re a great bass player, and I think the bass is a particularly physical expression of music, especially the way you play.

Yeah, I love the bass for that, bass and drums are just amazing. Guitar is my first instrument, and when the band broke up I contemplated returning to it, but I’m much more comfortable singing and playing bass. I always loved the bass but I only took it up because we had trouble keeping a bass player before we signed a record deal. The Police were happening at that time, so I thought, hell, I’ll play the bass.

I was just thinking of The Police, because Sting took up guitar as a solo performer, but went back to playing bass himself.

He’s fuckin’ good, man. It’s easy to trash him, but he’s a great songwriter, and on his worst night he’s just mindblowingly good. When we were playing with him, we were playing a lot of converted ice rinks and just huge places, and nothing would stay in tune. He came up to me and said, ‘If you ever need to use my bass, go ahead and use it,’ and the damn thing is fretless (laughs). I just said, ‘Thanks, Gordon, thanks very much,’ and I’m like, you bastard, you know I can’t play a fretless bass. It was really funny. But Sting’s got a lot of class. I saw him take a whole full water bottle in the chest when he was playing and he never even blinked. He just kept on playing, and I thought, wow, this guy’s got a lot of class. Anybody else, me included, would have gone flying off the stage.

I’ve been very impressed and inspired by how many artists and musicians are taking a DIY approach to recording and marketing their own music.

Well, that’s what punk rock was all about, especially in L.A., that was the spirit of the early eighties. Life is short and you should be doing what you like to do. It’s absolutely no fun when you get to a certain level and you have to compromise your art. It’s much more fun to work a day job, take the money, come home and rehearse, have a good time and put out your own record. You know, we had made our first record independently and we were going to put it out when Miles Copeland heard it and he said it reminded him a lot of The Police. He liked the versatility of the three-piece format.

That was how you started out?

Yeah.Those are the days that I really miss. There were no CD’s then, it was actually records, so you’d spend more in cardboard mailers and postage than you did actually pressing the record. We would stay up all night packing up records and sending them out. It was really cool.

It’s a gamble putting your money and your music on the line.

Yeah, I like that. And if there were a way to figure out how to make a hit… You know, a lot of the press will give you that shit about ‘Joey.’ Which came out of nowhere, and thank God it did. I’m fine, you know? But some people will say, ‘Oh, that was crap.’ Hey, man, if I had known how to write a hit I would have done it on the first album, but I had to work my ass off for that long. If it were that easy to sit down and do that, I would have done it the very first time around. So that’s just silliness

And how do you feel about the prospects for making interesting music now?

Things are in a very interesting stage now, musically. It’s really opened up for a lot of things to happen. As evil and stupid as the music business is, you never know what’s going to happen. You never know what’s going to hit or what’s going to miss. You never know what’s going to come along and blow everything out of the water and change the face of everything. And I think that’s really exciting.

Interview

Sarah McLachlan, 1995

Fateful is how Sarah McLachlan describes the night of her first performance as a member of a high school rock band. On that night, she fell in love with the joy of making music for a happy, appreciative audience—and Mark Jowatt, soon to be head of Artists and Repertoire for Nettwerk Records, fell in love with young Sarah’s voice. She declined his offer to travel to Vancouver to record a demo, deciding (at her mum’s insistence) to complete high-school and pursue her dreams of attending art school; but Sarah’s unforgettable voice had made a lasting impression. Two years later, Nettwerk offered a five-record contract and at the age of 19, Sarah recorded her first album, Touch. Her second album, Solace, came in 1991. She completed a world tour in 1994 in support of her third highly acclaimed and best selling album, Fumbling Toward Ecstacy.

In conversation, Sarah is as outspoken as she is introspective, and her personality is as down-to-earth as her singing voice is angelic. Muse spoke to Sarah for our premier issue cover story as she waited to catch a flight to Germany from the East Coast.

Was performing on stage and being in the spotlight something you once dreamed about?
I think when I was seventeen, the first time I was up on stage and I was singing and I looked down and people were smiling and dancing… that is probably one of the highlights of my life. I remember that so vividly. And so I do love being up onstage and I love that adulation. I do. (laughing) I’d be stupid to say I didn’t. But at the same time, typically I want to have my cake and eat it too. I want to be able to take that hat off when I walk off stage and just be me again. It doesn’t work like that, and that’s been the wildest thing and the hardest thing to deal with. The more people who know me, or know my music, the less time I have to myself.

When you first started writing songs, were you surprised and impressed at what you could do? Did you say to yourself, “Wow, that’s really good!”?
I think I was more impressed when other people liked them. Because I was still in the place of really needing to be told I was OK. The songs were a part of me, so if the songs were OK, then I was OK, and I needed that. I still do to a certain degree, although now I know much more whether they’re good or not on my own.

Do you practice your chops on the guitar?
Ahh, chops… I don’t really have any chops! (laughs) I have my favorite voicings that I tend to go back to all the time if you can call those chops. I don’t really practice, I just play all the time.

I guess that is practice. And songwriting is such a craft in itself.
Yeah, that’s pretty separate from it. Although— it is and it isn’t. For me, songwriting is just completely instinctual. I just pick up an instrument and go. I’ll play and hum and sing, and things either come out or they don’t.

The album Fumbling Toward Ecstacy is so confident. The songs are very conversational, as though you were talking to a friend or writing a letter.
Well, they’re definitely strong conversations with myself. I think the albums have progressed in the sense that I’ve gotten to know myself a lot better. I think the songs will become stronger because the songs are me. The songs are about me trying to figure out myself to a large degree. Even if it’s putting myself into someone else’s shoes to portray a character, if I’m talking about a situation completely outside of myself, it’s how do I see this emotionally or how does this affect me. Am I saying something really tragic or funny or whatever. You relate everything to your own life first and foremost and then as you’’re dissecting it, you’’re trying to figure it out and relate it to your own past knowledge and understanding or lack of understanding.

I think it’s ironic that the album is called “Fumbling” because there is a real noticeable sense of confidence in everything. Even in the quality of the melodies.
Well, for me the whole album was about losing control; by learning so much control that I could completely lose myself and not be afraid. A lot of the time making the record was spent talking about the head-space that we were in and discussing ideas and just trying to be really strong and happy.
When something was bothering us, we’d work through that before we started writing or recording, because we recorded everything basically, whatever came out. Often the first things that came out were the things that ended up on the record, whether it’s the first try at electric guitar or first piano take or first vocal take. In many instances, it’s the first dummy track. So it’s a real learning process for me to let go of editing myself, to let go of pre-thinking what I was doing, or listening to something for the wrong reasons versus the right reasons, and questioning that. So for that, there were a lot of mistakes that were made, but the mistakes were what made it great. You know, I wasn’t being a perfectionist anymore. I think a lot of art is done that way. In photography or whatever… you did the wrong film stop or whatever and the most beautiful picture in the world comes out of that mistake that you thought would be a total disaster.

Is the song sequence on the album something that you talked over with your producer Pierre Marchand?
Yeah. We made a lot of tapes, and did a lot of sequencing experiments, and played through them all to see what fit best. With Pierre and me it’s quite a strong collaborative effort from the beginning. You know, I write the basics of the songs, but I go in with him and they take shape.

You ended the album Solace with “Wear Your Love Like Heaven” It’s such a bright uplifting note.
Yeah, that wasn’t my idea.

Really?
Well, actually, putting it on the end of the record was my idea. Arista wanted it somewhere smack in the middle of the record. I recorded it for another reason altogether as part of a Donovan compilation, but they thought the record needed something hopeful… (laughs) so we compromised and I put it at the end. But I don’t think it makes much sense on the record personally.

It does stand alone in a way.
Yeah, I didn’t like it for that reason, but that’s just my own personal thing of wanting the record to be “this is what it is.” Yeah, it’s depressing, a lot of it, but…

The brightest song on the new album, “Ice Cream,” certainly comes before some pretty heavy songs that leave you feeling a certain way.
Yeah, because “Hold On” is one of the heaviest in my mind, and I had to counterbalance it by putting “Ice Cream” in there. I figured, “Ah, I gotta ease up a little there momentarily”. (laughs) But even “Ice Cream” has its pensive chorus. Like, “this is really amazing, but if we fuck it up, there’s a lot of hell to pay.”

This interview is for the December issue of Muse. Can you think of a particularly fond memory at Christmastime, either at home or out on the road in an exotic place?
Well, I’ve always managed to go home at Christmas. That’s really more important to my Mum and Dad than it is to me. I’m not really so much into Christmas, although the older I get the more I’m starting to enjoy it again. It’s just so fuckin’ commercialized. You know, everybody’s uptight because they don’t really want to buy presents for everybody but they have to because it’s Christmas—I hate all that bullshit. I buy presents for people when I see something I like, and I give it to them when I get it. People don’t get presents on their birthdays, they get them when I buy them. Or make something, which is even better. But, I’m starting to enjoy it more and one of the nicest things is getting to see my family and all my old friends because they come back to Halifax. We manage to reunite at Christmas, so for that, it’s quite nice. I guess I’’m getting older and I’m getting more nostalgic about it. About friends, about keeping connections going when there’s a desire to.

What is Christmas like in Nova Scotia?
Cold! (laughs) Hopefully, there will be snow. The last couple of years there’s been rain on Christmas, but three years ago there was a beautiful snowstorm. We have a great big huge park on the ocean and one of my friends and I went down to the water and built a huge, huge snow-woman. A big fat snow goddess, and that was really fun. My first female snowperson. (laughs) And she was beautiful, she was huge! She was about six feet tall and five feet in diameter—a huge thing like a big, big deity. A big icon goddess thing. But hey, one interesting thing, I got confirmed: I’m going to the Vatican to sing for the Pope at Christmas [Christmas 1994].

Wow!
Yeah, pretty freaky huh?

That’s amazing. I never knew the Pope was into popular music.
It’s a Christmas special, and all sorts of people are doing it. I think Sting is doing it too, and I’m basically just singing a Christmas song with a symphony. And hey, I’d love to sing with a symphony. I never have, so there’s one bonus. And I get to check out Rome on someone else’s coin. I get to check out the Vatican and see things that are really amazing… It’s Christmas, it’s the Pope, it’s Rome: I’m sure there’s gonna be paparazzi everywhere (laughs).

There’ll be fantastic acoustics too, unless it’s outdoors.
I’’m sure it’s going to be in some glorious cathedral. It’s pretty chilly in Rome for Christmas, so I don’t think it will be outdoors. I’m leaving today for Munich and not coming back ’til December 27th to Vancouver. I’m going to be in Munich tomorrow and I haven’t given it a thought yet. I’m just going to be there all of a sudden and go, “Oh my God, culture shock!” I’m not very good at pre-thinking. I just do things.

I don’t think thinking too much is a good idea.
No, and I do, I think way too much and it rarely gets me anywhere.

You seem really good at jumping into things with both feet.
Yeah, but I’ve got to find a balance. Still working on the balance.

© 1995 Muse Magazine

All rights reserved. Redistribution for profit prohibited. Copies must include this notice.

Interview

Nan Vernon: A Spirit in the Ethereal World

Nan Vernon photo

Nan Vernon once took a leap of faith to leave her home in Los Angeles to join the Eurythmics’ Dave Stewart in his band The Spiritual Cowboys in England. Five years later, she returned home to share her talent on her own album, Manta Ray, a collection of songs brimming with creative music and imagery. Manta Ray seduces with melancholy, rocks with conviction and charms Continue reading Nan Vernon: A Spirit in the Ethereal World →

Interview

Elly Brown and Grace Pool

Grace Pool promo picture

From the first ringing guitar notes sounding a joyful cry of celebration in “Awake With the Rain” to the last wistful, fading chorus of the final song, “1000 Nights,” the 1988 debut album by Grace Pool is infused with the love of life and a passion for creating exciting and fresh music.
That stirring, self-titled debut was followed by another equally inspired album, Where We Live, in 1990.

The music captured on those two recordings is not easily defined by genre. Grace Pool has been variously described as Ethereal, Jangle-pop, Folk-rock, and Alternative Rock. They were all of those things and more, thanks to the roots, inspirations, and passions of the band’s two co-founders, singer-songwriter Elly Brown and multi-instrumentalist Bob Riley. The pair’s work in Grace Pool would fit comfortably into a playlist with bands like The Sundays, Sixpence None The Richer, and The Innocence Mission. In the late 1980s, they shared radio play with The Motels and Til Tuesday.

The story of Grace Pool can be told simply—girl meets boy, they form a band, band gets record contract, band loses contract. It’s a story that has been repeated too many times, by many of the artists covered in Muse—October Project and Nan Vernon come immediately to mind. Fortunately, the music that was the flower at the end of Grace Pool’s winding and colorful path to being is still alive and timeless.

When did you change your career path from acting to music?
During my second year at Academy, I got a job singing in a restaurant on W 44th St. I formed my own band eventually, playing at the original Lone Star Cafe and The Bitter End and downtown. We opened for Sam and Dave, Junior Walker and the All Stars, and James Brown at Lone Star.

When did you write your first song?
I began writing as it became harder for me to find interesting, emotionally resonant covers that spoke to me. I play a tiny bit of piano and guitar, and I used a little tape recorder. I worked with Bob Gulian, who’s now my brother in law—a lovely songwriter, and I learned a lot. I guess I just started and integrated a few songs at a time. I never thought I could write, singing was my thing. I was a screamer, still in my late teens back then, an R&B and country singer.

Where did you and Bob Riley grow up?
Riley was born in Durham North Carolina, with an early childhood move to Florida, and high school years in New York City.

I was born in Oswego, New York. My Dad taught at SUNY Oswego. I moved to New York City at 17, right out of High School, to attend the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. I thought I was headed for theatre and acting.

What was Riley’s musical background?
He was a bitchen drummer. He played in early Madonna’s band and recorded with Patty Austin and even Brian Wilson, as he began getting into drum programming. His feel for programing developed into his synth love. He always played guitar. He became a self-taught engineer.

When did you and Riley become bandmates and lifemates? Which came first?
First, we were both hired to join a band called South, that included the legendary guitarist Lonnie Mack and some other great musicians. It set up camp in Milford, Pennsylvania. I was brought out to make the harmonies thick and to sing token “girl” songs. Lonnie was the main lead voice, I learned so much from him. Riley was brought out from NY. where he’d been pursuing his passion as a drummer. He was a successful, up and coming session drummer in the late 70s early 80s. That’s how we met. We were just friends but did try writing together out there. There was a lot of time and we were young and inspired, but nothing came of that.
Then, The Man, Ed Labunsksi, whose brainchild this was, drove into a tree out there and died. Chapter closed.
Back in NYC, I had my bands and Ry became drummer and we stayed friends.
Eventually after about 3 to 5 years, realized we were in love, got hitched and found a little house in Lincolndale about an hour upstate.

And the early version of Grace Pool came then?
Riley set up a studio—Grace Pool was born there. We both just merged. I would wail. He would program great beats and then strum away. We loved being in nature. We wrote and wrote and created soundscapes—very in love. We always played with friends throughout, like Glenn Marrow in Rage to Live, and other stuff. Life was sweet.

How did the actual studio band come together?
We wanted to play out and get back our NYC playing vibe, so we thought about what musicians we knew that would be into it and approached them. We booked a gig at CBGB—they had the best sound system— just to try. Shawn Colvin was one of my best friends, so she did us a favor with harmonies and acoustic guitar—we hadn’t met Terry yet. Clifford Carter and Frank Vilardi were musicians Ry felt would understand it. That was a cool gig, our first. We used sequenced bass and it worked, so we went from there.
Shawn clearly had her own thing going and we were lucky to find a very young, talented Terry Radigan. We started playing around town. We were so lucky to find this original collective. All so special and very gifted. We were in love and full of life, music, and optimism.

How were you connected to the record label, did they approach you through an A&R person?
My best friend and maid of honor was a secretary at Warner Bros and slipped them our demo tape. My friend gave out our home demos to Warner Brothers—they came to a gig at The Bitter End and signed us basically.

What was your experience of recording your albums?
We always knew how we wanted things to flow. Warners brought on Steve Nye to produce the first album. Riley was happy to have freedom for second album when Warners’ allowed him to do the production. I was having health problems and the songs are of struggle and not understanding the world so well on Where We Live. The critics didn’t like it as much but we were losing the stars in our eyes.
…and there were new band members brought on at that time?
Money was not flowing after the first album and both Clifford and Frank got busy and I believe Terry was itching to start a solo career. She was growing and younger and writing some powerful stuff of her own. Finding Beki Brindle was an amazing thing!! She was such a strong guitarist we were blown away and at that time in her life she was happy to come on board.

How did you happen to record the cover of “Stay”?
I knew the minute I heard it, I just felt the lyrics and melody—the love and empathy. It’s a beautiful song. I fell in love with The Blue Nile “A Walk Across the Rooftops” album, saw them play, and just melted. I wanted very much to sing it though I miss the mournful wail of Paul Buchanan’s voice on ours, to be honest.

Do you see differences in sound, tone, and songwriting between “Grace Pool” and “Where We Live”?
So the first one we were in love with life and nature. the second one I was besieged by mystery illness (trying to hide it) and we were more world-weary. That is reflected in the songs I think. Also, Beki’s beautiful blues guitar brought a gorgeous new element that we loved.