there this summer. I'll believe it when I see the tickets. SST have their
label set up over there now. They also have contacts with a booking agent
who used to book a lot of the bigger rock tours, so that may come through
this summer.
What brought about the big change in your music since Land Speed Record
?
Grant: We change from every record. It always changes before we
record the next record.
Bob: When we startred out we had a number of different styles we
could play and we tried to fuse them all together. Now it's just starting
to work.
Is it all the original members?
Bob: Yup.
Grant: I quit.
Bob: As of June 1979...early '79. About five years now.
Five big years
Bob: Yeah, can't say that about a lot of the bands you guys have
interviewed. Not that that's bad—just shows who's serious about it I
guess.
How do you keep going so long? What makes you do this?
Bob: Keep writing your songs, keep telling your stories. Things
happen every day; you gotta record 'em.
Do you need a liking for traveling in cramped vans or starving?
Bob: No, I don't like it at all, but I do like playing. I don't
especially like the way we travel, but it's the only way we can afford to.
What's the motivation?
Bob: Just to play, that's about it. I like music, I think we're good
at it, and that's why we do it. Well, we know we're good at it...that's
what keeps us going.
Grant: I like writing music and making records better than I like
playing. But you gotta play. Playing's great.
Bob: That's what we do it for, just to play. I mean, we're not trying
to subvert the youth of North America; we're just out to play our music.
So after playing this kind of music for five years, how have things changed?
Bob: People have gotten incredibly serious.
In what way?
Bob: Nobody's having any fun. It seems like a lot of people want to
make it like this is a cause, like we're into the music for a cause, or
we're into the music for an end result. You know, I'm just into this for
the music. People who are into it for poitical motivation—I just don't
see any point, really. There's this thing in the 80s, this literal,
radical thing, like feminists and a lot of the hardcores and stuff, where
everything is taken at face value. Like bands will come through and say
stuff like, "Well, the US is fucked, like, because we got all this evidence
that we looked up in a library." It's all this literal interpretation,
like feminists, that rape is violence against women, so literal, you know?
Rape is exploitation against men as well. It's like they only take what
they want, like the radicals who just have this little bit of information
that is true, but they construe it so that it justifies their cause
completely. And there's no room for argument because it's a fact. You
know, if you start arguing on an artistic or personal level, it doesn't
matter, because they're looking at it strictly on a literal level. That's
something that's really changed a lot; when I first got into the music,
people were concerned with things. There's nothing wrong with that, but
people weren't justifying every.... It's just like it was a change, you
know? Something to do. I'm not into changing political shit.
So when you're up on stage, then, you're not really trying to say
anything? It's just "come on up and have a good time?"
Bob: Well, not so much that. We're trying to say things, we're trying
to tell stories—but we're not trying to dictate to people. There's a
difference. It's hard to explain: we're trying to influence people to look
at things that happen in their lives. You know, we're not just picking
isolated incidents and saying, "This is a horrible, ghastly act of war"
or something.
Like ragging on atom bombs.
Bob: No, I don't like 'em either, you know. I don't wanna die...
could really put a cramp into the weekend.
Grant: Destroy your records.
Bob: You know, we just relate incidents or tell stories that could
happen to Joe Average. We're not just getting up there and saying, "Hey,
party down," but we're not saying, "Hey, this is dead serious; here's our
manifesto." It's like we're somewhere in between.
Grant: This is the way we look at it. Take it or leave it.
Bob: Yeah, we're just telling our stories; we're not trying to change
everything. We couldn't do that: we're only a band.
Grant: If you want to do something, clean up your house,
straighten up your own bathroom, before you start. If people would take a
look at who they buy dope from and then elect them president so they can
stop complaining about Reagan...I mean, it's the same fuckin' thing.
Bob: It doesn't matter who's in there, you guys know that. It
doesn't matter who's president or who's running the country, 'cause they
don't anyway; all they are is a spokesman. They don't have anything to do
with it. Everyone thinks that they push the button and they make all the
money; that's not it. There's thousands of people in the political system
that have more control than the President; it's just that they aren't a
father image. It's a machine, wheels or gears or cogs, they all fit
together. It's like a puzzle; put it all together and you have this image.
That's what gets presented. You finish the puzzle and you show people the
end result. You don't show them each piece.
So what'd you think of the place you're playing, the Royal Albert?
Bob: Not much, not much at all. We signed a contract to come up
and play music; we didn't sign a contract to control the crowd.
So why did you tell the crowd to settle down?
Bob: 'Cause he threatened to cancel the show if people didn't behave.
Tonight I don't care. People can do what the fuck they want. I'm not going
to tell them what to do. It's like the laws are so intricate up
here—dance permits and bar permits—it's beyond us. We have no idea
what all that stuff means. I can understand what he means though; the fire
department sat outside for the duration of the show and for half an hour
after. They sat outside because if they thought he was over the capacity
they would have come in. The guy obviously wasn't anticipating the turnout.
Even if he was, he did a couple of things that I just can't imagine a
clubowner doing. He wouldn't let the people with the video camera in;
there's nothing like turning down free advertising (for the bar). Also, we
got the writeup in the paper; it's like a standard rule that when we play,
press people are let in free, no questions asked, because they publicize
your bar for free and they publicize the band for free. For him to do
anything other than that was just bad business. It's the most foolish thing.
How are clubs in Minneapolis?
Bob: We get contracted to play music, we play music. They hire the
bouncers, the doormen. About half our shows are all ages, and we do half
regular 19-and-over shows. We have to do it 'cause we've got a crowd that's
underage, and we've got a crowd that drinks. We try to satisfy both. People
that drink when they go to see bands will not go to an underage show
beause there's no booze.
You guys seem to have a beef or differences with the REPLACEMENTS. Care
to explain?
Bob: The REPLACEMENTS are on Twin/Tone Records. Twin/Tone is a major
independent label striving to act like a major label. They're really into
artist development and all this kind of stuff...massive press lists. They
have an incredible overhead. They sit there and they just call radio
stations to make sure it's being played. Service the radio stations,
service the press, then do followup calls, all that. That's like some kind
of money we'll never see. It's more aesthetic differences than personal
differences. I have nothing against them; it's just the way they do things
I would never want to be part of. The REPLACEMENTS specifically are a fine
band, they're a great rock 'n' roll band. They have a lot of things
going for them—let's put it that way—that we don't have. By the
same token, we have a lot of things going for us that they'll never have.
How do you live up to your reputation of being "the fastest band in the
world?"
Bob: The songs that we wrote back then that were real fast, around
'79, '80, '81, don't really hold a lot of meaning for me three years
later. It's sort of hard to get up there and play a song and act like
you're into it: I play songs that I'm into, not songs that I act like I'm
into. I play songs that mean something. Most songs that we played for three
years, we beat 'em into the ground. We just got tired of it.
Grant: Maybe someday we'll write an entire set of material that's like
you could play forever and make us happy every time we play it, but I don't
see that happening.
Bob: It's just a matter of being into your music. That's the arena
mentality, playing all the favorites. That's the way I really look at it,
like the bands that get up there and just play the certified gold, and it's
real easy—people know what they're getting. With us, it's more that
people should enjoy the fact that we branch out; we do things that may
never be done again live, or may never sound the same again. We don't do
carbon copies of our songs per se; we change things around a lot.
What happened when you came out with "In A Free Land" after Land
Speed Record?" It wasn't as fast. What was the response?
Bob: Well, the B-side was still two quick rippers. The A-side was
a little stronger, a little more structured song. It's evolution. We
didn't completely abandon the fast stuff. On the new album there's seven or
eight fast ones. But by the same token there's 12 medium-tempo ones.
Greg: Hopefully the longer you do something the better you're gonna
get at doing it, whether it's playing an instrument or writing songs. I
think we're writing better songs.
Bob: They mean more.
Greg: So why take up a limited amount of time for the amount of
time for the songs that we've played 150 times?
Your first single was a lot slower than the later stuff.
Bob: "Statues?" Yeah, we were in a bad mood when we put that one
out.
Grant: Those were the only slow songs that we had at the time.
Bob: That was pretty much the opposite of what we were doing live.
We were doing maybe six or seven in that vein, compared to 30 fast ones,
so we took the slower ones.
In all your grueling travels on the road, what have been some of your
worst experiences?
Bob: Trouble doesn't seem to flock to us like other people. I don't
know. Iowa City was weird; this guy was being real obnoxious and demanding
that this punker girl give him a ride home, like pounding on her hood and
stuff. We had to pull out the hardware like the tire jack and stuff and tell
him to get out. The cops came and arrested her and let him go. That
was kind of strange.
Grant: This band we were staying with in San Francisco, their
landlord came by really early in the morning with his fucking Dobermans,
and ended up pulling a knife on one of the guys and going, "I'm gonna kill
you!" and all this shit.
Bob: We drove seven hours on a tire with no tread once. That's scary.
Grant: That's even more scary!
Who's your favorite wrestler?
Bob: Favorite wrestler? Don Morroco.
Grant: Don Morroco. And the Crusher. The Crusher I like because
he's someone that's always been around.
Bob: I hate the Crusher.
Grant: Mr. Torture! Mr. Sayito!
Bob: Ventura and Sayito are such an unlikely pair. Sayito's good for
tag because he gives such bad interviews. That sort of nullifies any
ability in the ring.
Grant: Now listen here, Jack!!
Bob: The interviews are more important than the actual matches
sometimes, as far as selling it on TV. They're trying to sell a product.
Ken Patera has the best dye job in all of professional wrestling; you never
see a black root in his hair.
Is there really a rivalry between people in Minneapolis and people in
St. Paul?
Bob: Depends if you talk to WILLFUL NEGLECT or not. There is the
Mississippi River. Minneapolis is an urban metropolitan city; St. Paul
is an urban residential city. There were factions for a while, but it was
something people fabricated to give them something to do. What kind of
gripe is there? Who fuckin' cares, ya know? We could say Minneapolis
rules over Thunder Bay or something. Like what's the big stink about,
what's the big deal? It just gives people something to gripe about. It's
like, "We're from St. Paul, so we're gonna wreck the bar."
Grant: Funny thing is, people from Minneapolis get totally lost in
St. Paul, and it doesn't make any sense; everything is ass-backwards. And
it's the same thing with people from St. Paul when they go to Minneapolis.
Bob: "Cause everything's in order there, ha ha! That's sort of like
the LA syndrome. You know: we're Hollywood punks, we're Ventura punks,
we're Orange County punks, we're Valley punks. You know, big deal, it's
like gangs, little kids. It's our sandbox; don't play with our toys.
Do you ever get shit when you play out of town for not looking like punks?
Bob: We don't have to pay any atention to it when we're on the
stage...they give us the microphones, don't they?
Grant: I had to laugh when we played in Boston, 'cause here's all
these people with really short hair, like everybody, and here we're
like, boom (imitating unknown musical instrument).
Bob: The only people that give us shit are Timothy Leary and Ken
Kesey—yeah, he's got a mohawk now.
Grant: Actually, a reverse mohawk! It's nice not to be recognized
in bars.
Greg: It's like when we pulled into DC at the 9:30 Club. We're
pounding on these glass doors to get let in, and somebody walks over and
sees me and Bob and they walk away—and we're supposed to be loading in.
Finally this guy comes over and we go, "Hey, we're HÜSKER DÜ,
we're the band!" and the guy's just looking at us like, "Yeah, right,
you're the band?" He let us in.
Grant: It's like we know we're in a band. We don't have to prove
it by dressing one way or another.
Bob: People can do that. If you're into it, fine; it's whatever you
feel comfortable with. If you wanna look like a hardcore punk, go ahead.
We're not into the censorship thing. Peer pressure, that's all it comes
down to. It's not like we're nonconformists on purpose. There's people
that do that, try to be untrendy on purpose, because that in itself is
trendy. It's just what I wear. These are my clothes, you know? Clothes
don't play the guitar and sing; clothes simply cover up my genitals, that's
about all. It's conforming to a nonconformist group. I just look at it that
people should be comfortable with what they do, and be able to defend whatever
they're doing. If somebody gives you shit about the way you look, you should
be able to do whatever you feel comfortable about doing. Just like say, "I
don't have time to be bothered about your opinion, because I'm comfortable
with it." Defend it however you feel justified.
With Everything Falls Apart, you got mentioned in some major
publications. How would you feel making the jump to "the big time?"
Bob: We just keep doing what we're doing. Once everybody else
catches up with it, we're not gonna change to get popular. We're just
doing what we're doing, and getting popular by doing it. I think that's the
best formula you could have, just do what you're comfortable with and see
what happens. We're not gonna, you know, "cop out."
Grant: If our records sell good five years after we release them,
then...
Bob: In other words, what you're asking, it seems like, is "would
you guys," or "how would you guys sell out?"
Not necessarily. What would you do?
Bob: How would we handle it? Probably get a road manager, an
extra roadie, maybe a better van. That would be about the only way to
handle it. We'd still do the interviews we'd still do the photo sessions,
we'd still play the shows. We'd still do the same things; it wouldn't
change us. My lifestyle wouldn't get more expensive if I had more money.
I'd just simply have more guitars than likely. I'd put it into something
more tangible instead of eating expensive food.
Do you think that once the pseudo-British Invasion Mark II is over that
hardcore will catch on commercially?
Bob: Oh, you mean like that British dance stuff? I don't know.
What do you guys think is going to happen?
(Oh lord! Praise be! someone asked us for our opinion! This was not supposed to happen! We were supposed to ask the questions here, not
them! We were caught in a dilemma and here is what we said:
1. Uh, I hope it doesn't.
2. Uh, I hope it doesn't!)
Bob: Yeah, see, that's the thing. You have to be prepared if you
think in the back of your mind that maybe you're gonna get caught up like
the 60s movement did. You have to think about those things if you're really
serious about it. To us, we're playing our music. I throw away the labels
when I start playing. All the labels and categorizations go out the window
as soon as you start playing the music. If you can overcome that...'cause
there's bands that go, like, "Yeah, we're hardcore. We've got the X, we've
got the Straight Edge." You're completely isolating yourself from a
possibly larger audience. If you've got something important to say, why
not say it to more people? If we get popular, we'll just keep doing the
same thing; there's nothing wrong with having more people listen to you.
If you don't, then maybe you're afraid you don't have anything to say.
Like, "I only want this. I don't want to get popular—'cause I know
I'm full of shit and only 12-year-olds listen to what I'm saying." You
can't change your frame of reference. We're talking to everybody: we're
not talking to Straight Edge; we're not talking to hardcore; we're talking to
everybody.
But what about people like Joe Strummer, who said things like, "We're
gonna build a radio station with our money?"
Bob: It probably went up his nose. Well, that's the thing. It's
like the anarchy thing: who's gonna run the boat once it's sunk? It's that
kind of shit. It's like everybody else—"If I had money I'd do this; if
I had money I'd do that. It would be for the good of my fellow punks."
That's bullshit. If you had money like that, you'd do whatever you damn
well felt like. At least if you were smart you would.
Grant: You'd try to satisfy your most paranoid fantasy in your
whole life, like Elvis.
Bob: Like Elvis did, yeah, or like any of those fat drug addicts
with the Hawaiian shirts on.
You'd have to sell a hell of a lot of records.
Bob: For a number of years! Ha! Go Gos—do you think they're
rich now? Where did they go? Where do a lot of these bands go? Look at
all these people that sold zillions of records two years ago; they don't
have anything to show for it now. THE KNACK, that's probably the best
example. When a record goes gold, they ship 250,000 copies. They only have
to sell two—it's shipped. Whatever they ship, it's "shipped gold."
You always hear that term. Or this record "shipped platinum" in two
days. When one of our records sells 10,000 we're gonna make a lead one
and we're gonna have a big stink in Minneapolis, call a press conference,
and gwet our "lead" records. Then at the end we can do a gig and have towels
around our necks and bow.
Any last words before we march you off to the gallows?
Bob: I don't know. Just people should do whatever they're gonna
do, I guess, and not listen to...bar owners. Just do what you're gonna do
and do it well. That's about it....
|
