|
| No Oxygen Tanks in My Songs |
| The chance to score a few films and to bulk up at the gym, apparently. Here's some of what was on Connelly's mind when we spoke recently. |
| Writer: Spiff |
Jan 06 97 |
|
|
|
The best compliment I can give Chris Connelly is that if I had met him at a cocktail party, I'd have gone home sober: he's such an engaging conversationalist that I'd never have gotten around to refilling my glass. In a recent phone conversation with Connelly, we touched on everything from the DIY ethos to the proper way to score films to writing poetry to the genius of Scott Walker.
Oh yeah, and we talked a little about his brief tour in support of the remarkable Blonde Exodus album. The album found Connelly at his most theatrical -- a far cry from his pranky days with Ministry and Revolting Cocks -- and in the intimate telephone setting he retains that theatricality, punctuating his sentences with emphasized words and thoughtful pauses that make you think he's actually blocking scenery in his head as he talks.
Chris Connelly, I've discovered, defines to me what being an artist is all about: he doesn't make obscene amounts of money and you won't find videos of his tunes on Total Request Live, but his lifelong devotion to his craft has afforded him a living wherein he pursues his muse as he deems fit. He's achieved artistic freedom and self-sufficiency without having to get a "real job" or shill for Pepsi -- what more can a rocker ask for?
The chance to score a few films and to bulk up at the gym, apparently. Here's some of what was on Connelly's mind (and mine) when we spoke recently.
Joseph McCombs: I was kind of amused to see how scheduled you were, as far as going to the gym, going to rehearsals. Such a far cry from reading about what your touring situation was like 10 years ago.
Chris Connelly: I know, I know. But you know, even back then, I kept a pretty good regime. Or maybe the façade of a regime (laughs) is more like it. But I need some kind of discipline in my life. Yeah, I got the gym a lot, now. It's actually a lot of fun, believe it or not.
Good to hear. I've never been good with such stuff, myself. I'm more of the sleeping-whenever-possible variety.
How old are you?
28.
See now, once you hit 30, you'll probably start going to the gym a lot. (Laughter.) You gotta keep the ladies looking at you, y'know? One can pretend unto yourself that you look good, and it's such a big ego trip to leave the gym, you feel great, and you're like, "Yeah, I'm all right. I look good." Or you might look a mess, I don't know …
When I'm carried out on a stretcher, it doesn't look so impressive. (More laughter.) So you're in Chicago now, right?
Yeah, uh-huh.
Gearing up for -- how long until the tour dates start? It's right around the corner, isn't it?
Wednesday's the first show, yeah, next Wednesday. So it's a week. I just got done rehearsing about 10 minutes ago.
Now, who all's touring with you? Is it the same Bells cast who recorded Blonde Exodus with you?
No, it's not, except for Henry [Polk], the bass player. I've recruited a girl called Mary D. Reynolds who has a band called Chainsuck. She's a very old friend of mine; she's a guitarist and a singer. So she's playing second guitar.
Kim [Ambriz], the drummer, can't make it. She has a college class, which she already paid for, so she can't move. Which is unfortunate -- it would be lovely to have her out -- but it ain't gonna work this time. The set's gonna be really good anyway.
Did that result in some rearrangements of the songs, or are you trying to stay close to how they originally sounded?
Well, you know, they're rearranged; they're somewhat stripped down. But I think that the approach I took was -- it's a three-piece band, I'm basing things around my singing, and super-concentrating on that. When you strip things down like that, and you can still relax in that atmosphere, then I find that that's when my voice starts to blossom.
That should work nicely -- I thought your voice was the strongest aspect to the Blonde Exodus album.
Thank you. Well, I recently -- about three weeks ago, I saw John Cale [formerly of the Velvet Underground] play, and it was him and two other guys, and it was really all about his voice. It was just fantastic, and it was captivating. And I thought, "Well, yeah, that really works: there's no distractions; his voice really filled the room."
I have to confess that I don't think I've ever heard him sing.
Oh, really?
I'm so unfamiliar, I'm embarrassed.
He has a beautiful, beautiful voice. And it seems to get better as he gets older. I mean, I think he's 60 now. And it's just as strong as ever.
Do you think you'll still be on a stage when you're 60?
I believe so. I can't give it up, although there are certain times in my life over the past few years when … you know, because I'm definitely one of these artists who -- I do receive fantastic critical praise; it's really, completely flattering; but this does not reflect in terms of record sales. It's not something I can make a good wage at. However, playing out can sometimes generate some cash.
What size venues are you playing these days?
Little, you know, tiny. I play really little places. And sometimes I can come out with a little bit of money, and that can keep things going a little bit. But I can't, I just don't feel like jumping ship, I don't feel like shifting careers at this stage, unless it was something astronomically good. I'll never put my pen down. I can't stop writing and exploring that; it's just too fascinating for me. And no matter how frustrated I get -- which I do get frustrated, because I seem to be banging my head against a wall a lot -- I can never reach a point where I'm like, "Okay, I've had it; this isn't working." 'Cause it still does work for me. No matter if there's three people in the audience.
When you're writing something -- I know that you've written a great deal of poetry in addition to your songs -- I was curious as to how you know, as something you're writing is evolving, whether it's going to become one or the other [a poem or a song].
Generally, the way I write songs is, I'll sit there with a pen and paper and a guitar in my hands; and I write the lyric at the same time as the melody. It has a lot to do with rhythm, I think, for me. My poetry is, I think, a little more arrhythmic. And that's something that I'll tend to write, usually when I'm out and about. You know, when I'm out walking or something, and something strikes me. And I'll write, and at some point it becomes a poem -- and it's like, "Well, this isn't gonna work as a song at all. It reads well, just on its own, in cold black and white."
However, having said that, recently I wrote a song where the lyric came first, and that's not happened to me for years. I mean, I just sat down and wrote a lyric.
And suddenly started hearing a tune behind it?
Yeah, I came up with the music weeks later. I just let it sit there, and kept looking at it, and it worked well as a poem, but I knew that it could be a really brilliant song if I just let it become apparent.
I don't write so much poetry these days. I'm very much geared towards songwriting. Mainly because I've learned a little bit more; I've taught myself a little bit more. I can -- you know, the melodies come a lot easier, and before, I think I was trying to find my place, and I was trying to, I guess, learn about playing, and learn about melody and songwriting; and the two were very separate things. I think the last poem I wrote was about a year ago, the last stand-alone poem. Which is -- it's weird, because I wanted to do another book of poetry --and it's kind of slow on the uptake. (Laughter.)
Well, you still have a backlog of material. Do you ever get a chance to recite any of that during your shows? Or would that be too out of place?
I have done before. I think, was it last year -- whenever the book [Confessions of the Highest Bidder] came out, I did a show where I was playing music and I was reading from the book as well. And I recently completed a spoken-word record that accompanies the book.
It's weird, because if you're the person writing the poem, you don't -- I don't, anyway -- say it out loud as I'm writing it. It's something that I feel should be read -- so reading something onto tape like I did, a spoken-word album, and hearing my voice back … I like listening to my singing voice, I have no problem, but listening to my speaking voice, I think is absolutely ridiculous. So that was a wee bit strange, but I wanted to do it, 'cause so many people had asked about it. So I went ahead and did it, and sort of wrote a note in with the record that sort of said, "This is to be listened to in one sitting," kind of like looking at a painting or something like that. And I tried to keep my voice neutral: I didn't want to get too Shakespearean or go off; I wanted to keep it at a level. Not a monotone, but something that allows the listener to perhaps breathe their own images into it at the same time. 'Cause that's really what I write for: I think I write triggers. I'm very into imagery, albeit obtuse and albeit a little, maybe, existential. But I'm into creating images in people's minds.
Speaking of that, jumping back to the Blonde Exodus album for a moment, as I was listening to it and reviewing it for Choler, I noticed on several of the songs frequent "diving" and "falling" imagery. Was that intended as a recurring theme throughout the album, and did you intend it as a concept album of sorts?
The diving and falling thing, it's kind of … a thing that's been part of my life, I suppose. I suppose these are metaphors, you know. Like in "Diamonds Eat Diamonds": "I saw your precious mania diving for pearls." Diving for pearls, you're taking the risk of diving into water, to look for something that is precious, and whether or not you're gonna find it down there is another thing, and you only have a certain amount of time. There's no oxygen tanks in my songs. You have a certain amount of time to be down there looking.
I think I quoted that exact line in my review, interestingly enough.
Oh, cool! But yeah, Blonde Exodus is, I suppose, as close to a concept record as I'll get. I think that I really wanted to make it as close as I could to a movie, really. I was trying to do something cinematic.
Oh! So that explains the end titles! I was wondering why -- I had never heard an album go through closing credits like that, almost like a play, and I was really intrigued by that.
Yeah, and the beginning as well, which is a friend of mine reading the song "Blonde Exodus," which she translated into French.
Ah. Not knowing more than 10 words of French, I was thoroughly befuddled by that one.
Yeah, there's a beginning and an end. Which is -- I've done that a lot before, like on the last album, Seaside Companion. The album opens with an instrumental version of the end, the last song. So I wanted it to have, very loosely speaking, theme changes, dialogues or rather monologues, you know -- different shades, I suppose, different lights and darks in the record.
I'm really interested in movies. And I'm not a moviemaker, by any stretch of the imagination. However, I can only do what I do best, and try and get as close to that point as possible. I mean, it's a fun thing to do; it's a challenge. But it wasn't actually until about two songs into writing the album that I noticed there was gonna be a theme of sorts, and there was a potential here to make a kind of song cycle.
Do you see yourself scoring films in the future? It sounds like that might be the logical extension.
I would dearly love to. I think I would be good at that, 'cause I'm real sensitive to imagery and stuff like that when I'm watching things. I'd love to be given the opportunity.
Any particular directors you'd hope to work with?
You know, I really like Hal Hartley. He did Henry Fool and Flirt. I like his way of working. He does the music to his own films, though, for the most part. There's not really any others -- I'm not good with directors; I mean, I just see things and I really like them. Sometimes the scores are great and sometimes the scores are miserable. I'm happy to say that I've seen quite a few films recently where the soundtracks have been very consistent. I just don't like when they use the most popular pop groups of the day. It dates a movie so much.
Yeah, that's treading on risky ground. And everything John Williams has been doing in recent years has just been a rehash of everything he was doing in the '70s. So it's a little tiring to hear these overblown orchestral scores. I happened to like the minimalism of Neil Young's score to Dead Man.
I loved that score, yeah! There you go; that's a great example of something that really, really worked. But you know, I think there's a whole lot of payola going on between film companies and record companies …
Undoubtedly. With one owning the other in every single case, of course they want to get someone "in the family" to do a project.
Yeah, and it works well for all of them. But sometimes it's just over the top, like when one scene ends and another song starts. And this is a trend that's been happening, I think, steadily over the last decade. It's gotten more and more -- I remember, in the '90s, almost every war film that came out had to have "All Along the Watchtower" by Hendrix at the height of the battle scene. It's like, use your fucking imagination! (Laughter.) It's certainly not rocket science.
Well, now it's having Diane Warren [songwriter of much of the pop dreck you hear on top 40 radio] songs over the closing credits. It was so grossly out of place hearing a love ballad at the end of Pearl Harbor.
My lord … I mean, it's all about generating cash, I suppose. But you can sometimes fall so short. I think these people can convince themselves it's actually good and it's actually a worthwhile practice. But in 10 years' time, it's not gonna look very good. It's not gonna be a classic, like something like The Godfather, which is still vital in many ways. It's a classic film.
I'm not sure that it's possible to create a Godfather anymore, unless it's someone's first film, before they have been sucked into certain machineries. I mean, the best albums I've been hearing in recent years have all been people's debut albums, because they have the freedom to pursue a path there -- but once they've grown successful, then it becomes so self-conscious that it can never be as interesting.
Mm-hmm. Well, I think that sadly, one of the casualties of the record business -- the biggest casualty is the band or the artist, because there are so many people that are surrounded by people that suggest things to them. And they're kind of ambivalent things in a way, but the more people that suggest ambivalence to you, the more you might start to think, "well, yeah, maybe that's not such a bad idea; we'll do that; we will use this person as a producer," blah blah blah. They'll keep being told, "you've still got your artistic integrity," and before you know it, that's gone.
I'm very lucky, because I make it. I'm older, I've done a reasonable amount of work where -- and like I said at the beginning of the interview, I don't make a heck of a lot of money off of what I do. And I've explained this to people I've worked with in the past: I've said, "Look, I don't care. The only reason I do this is because I enjoy it." If it starts to look like something that is going to annoy me, then I'm not going to do it. I'm backing out. Whether it be a show, or a recording session, or whatever -- what's in it for me? Nobody's crossing my palm with silver, or giving me an offer of work as a vocalist. I do what I do, and I'll do it my way, or I'm just not gonna bother.
Unfortunately, so many other musicians don't have the catalogue, or the presence of mind to put their foot in the ground and say …
Yeah. I know. Actually, there's quite a few younger bands that are around these days that have not relinquished any control. In fact, there's quite a lot -- like, I'm thinking, for example, of the band Godspeed You Black Emperor.
I've heard many people tell me I should listen to them, but I haven't sought them out.
They're fantastic; they're really good. They do everything themselves. I think there's a collective of maybe 10 to 14 people, and they're very popular, and they don't give a shit. They do it their way, and that's that.
Do they do that through a label, or do they self-distribute?
They have, I think -- well, in this country, they're on a local Chicago label called Kranky, whom I used to work with the guy who runs that label, who is all about that kind of thing. I'm lucky with my label, with Invisible, because they're very much hands-on in that, "Well, you wanna do it, go ahead and do it. We're not stopping you. But you've gotta pay for it." And I think Kranky are the same way. They like to have bands who have the gumption, who want -- there's too many people who expect the record company to sort of carry the can. And that's not possible: if they carry the can, then they've got a certain amount of control over you. But if you're the one -- like, I'm going on tour, and I wanted a poster for the tour, and I went ahead and did it myself, and paid for it myself. It wasn't much money. But a lot of bands will say, "Oh, the record company's gotta do the poster; it's their job, so they'll do something." As long as I'm monitoring things, if I'm paying for it, damn right, it's gonna be my aesthetic all the way down the line.
Right. So not only is it a true reflection of you, but you don't necessarily get caught up in a multimillion-dollar recoupment issue.
Yeah! Exactly. And I think a lot of bands forget that. Yeah, okay, you're out on the road and you've got a nice bus and everything like that, but you're paying for this eventually. It's like being a hostage in many ways.
Some of the other things I wanted to touch on with you -- as far as the influences on your own work, the David Bowie comparisons are of course inevitable, but I was wondering if you found those apt, and I was wondering how you were introduced to Scott Walker, because I've heard quite a few people dropping his name and referring to his work.
Well, David Bowie -- I'm flattered, and I think it's inevitable. I can't hide from the fact that yes, he's been a really big influence on my life. I started listening to him at a very early age, and these things will work themselves into your subconscious even if you try to get away from it.
Well, you also share a similarly theatric voice.
Right. I'm into it; I'm into theater. I'm into making a performance of a song. I'm into the aesthetics of a song. And I think that being compared to someone like Bowie is fine; it's a hell of a lot better than being compared to, you know, Weezer or something like that. (Laughs.) He's like a really good black suit: he's classic and he'll never go out of fashion. Even if he's had his patchy areas, he's still got a great voice. He can still sing those songs. So I'm perfectly happy with that.
As far as Scott Walker goes, I guess I got into him very, very young as well, because …
You know that he didn't have anywhere near the same kind of success in the States that he did all over the rest of the world.
Well, he didn't have that much success after a certain point in the U.K., either. It was weird. When I first heard him, he had reformed his old band, the Walker Brothers, in the mid '70s. They'd covered a song called "No Regrets," which was written by a folk singer called Tom Rush. And it's an absolutely stunning piece of work; it's a beautifully sung song. And that was a hit, I think, in January of 1976. And that's when I first heard Scott Walker. I really liked his voice.
But that was that; there wasn't much else until he put out a record called Climate of Hunter in 1984. That was when he was next brought to my attention. There was a little bit of a buzz about it, and there was a very popular TV show on called "The Tube" on British TV on a Friday evening, which kind of showcased a lot of indie bands. They had a feature on Scott Walker, and had some footage of him performing in the '60s, and they actually interviewed him then.
The record, Climate of Hunter, is one of the more bizarre records I've ever heard. It was on Virgin, and he had a really great band of session musicians with him. Sonically, the record has much more in common with popular records of the time, like Phil Collins or something like that. That's kind of the sounds that are on there. But musically, it's in a different league. The guy's composition skills are second to none.
It's hard to modernize yourself and stay interesting at the same time.
It really is. Since then -- although his releases have been sporadic -- he keeps going from strength to strength as a composer. And the last stuff he composed, which I heard come out last year, he wrote two songs for the singer Ute Lemper, the German singer. And these two songs are just, like, so light years -- I mean, I listened to the two songs, and I was like, "Oh, fucking hell, what is happening here?" He has invented this language of music that is so alien to me, and it's so beautiful and so terrifying at the same time. I'm fascinated by his work. And I'm fascinated by his work in the same way that I'm fascinated by things like Ornette Coleman. I can never play like that; I can never write like that. It's unattainable, which makes it all the more mysterious to me.
That's kind of the relation I have to Nina Simone. I'd say she's the best example of someone who, as you say, both impresses and terrifies me, just knowing how far beyond anything else in her period or in anyone else's period -- absolutely stunning.
Yeah. There's not many people like that in the world, that I would use the word "genius" with, who are not a product of their times or a product of their past. David Bowie is -- although he does it incredibly well, and has in the past admitted it -- he plagiarizes and he appropriates musics. In the mid '70s, you know, he did a soul album [Young Americans] and he did it really well, then he started dabbling with African music and stuff like that. And you can come up with really unique sounds that way.
But still, with someone like Scott Walker, I don't know where that comes from. He claims it comes from silence, and he doesn't listen to music, really. You can't really pin it onto anything; it just is. Kind of like Francis Bacon's paintings. I don't know who he would have compared himself to, but they're very unique. And in fact, all the interviews I've ever read with Francis Bacon, he makes no Salvador Dali song-and-dance about it. I mean, Salvador Dali was very unique, but he also sort of covered himself in mud and ran around his village naked and things like that, whereas Francis Bacon didn't apply that kind of importance to his work. He's like, "Well, I'm a painter; I'm painting a figure here." But it's so uniquely him.
As opposed to using some inspiration to become a personality first and an artist second.
Mm-hmm, yeah.
So now, with the tour starting next week, that's taking you through quite a few cities in the northeast U.S. Are you going to eventually head over to the West Coast? Or is this kind of a limited tour?
We're going out for 10 days; 10 days is how much I can afford right now. It's simple dollars and cents, unfortunately. If the tour goes well, then I certainly of course will be open to suggestions of going out there and doing it again. I'm happy to.
I'm not crazy about playing live these days. And the reasons for this are because I'm fortunate enough to be so prolific with writing these days that playing songs that I've already written doesn't interest me too much.
I understand.
And going over things I've already done. Although it's fine; I don't hate it; you know, the hassle of going out there and playing when I keep thinking, "Shit, I could be home writing something new." And I get very antsy on the road. I get inspired. I mean, there's a lot to be said for going on the road, especially the people you meet. You always learn something. You know, I'll come back from the road and I'll start writing, and I'll write like crazy. That's my main focus, I suppose, is writing, and I just can't stop that. And I'm really scared that I'll miss something. And I can't write on the road. I just can't do it; I'm just too distracted.
Quite understandable. So whatever became of -- last year, you alluded a couple times to rounding up Revolting Cocks for some reunion work. Is that still a thought?
We actually got as far as bringing all our gear into my apartment. And Paul Barker was staying with me, and we had the gear there, and things were looking good. But then Ministry got some kind of a job offer, and I got a job offer to go and do the Damage Manual. So that kind of came to a grinding halt. And it's like, well, you have to strike when the iron is hot. And it's not happened again.
Although of course it's nothing I certainly am ruling out. It's just something that would happen if we were all available and all willing to do it. I know for sure that Paul and I, we'd love to work together if the opportunity arose. And Al … is in his own orbit. He does pay a visit here and there, but he's a hard one to pin down. I think if we did a Cocks record, maybe me and Paul would start it and get something solid down, and then have Al come in and do what he does.
Well, it doesn't sound like you're still in the same frame of mind to deconstruct songs like "Physical" and "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy" anymore …
(Laughs.) I look on collaboration as an exercise. You will always learn something, and that's precious to me. And I think that -- I just can't ever rule anything out. I can't, because I'm too interested. And I've not worked with Paul on anything for about eight years. And the last thing we worked together, which was for the last Revolting Cocks album, we had a fucking blast. And I learned a hell of a lot about the technology we were using. And I'm not a techie by any means. I play guitar, and that's how I write my songs.
So he brought some of the production aspects.
Yeah. He had all these fucking boxes, you know, and you can't sort of sit there, 'cause you'll be bored, and it's like, "Show me how this works, and I'll start doing what you're doing as well." So you learn how to do it.
Great, so for this reunion album you'll be vocodor-ing your voices.
(Laughs.) Yeah, the Cocks is anything-goes. I think that -- Paul's one of my oldest friends, and I really enjoy working with him, and I trust him. And that's one of the things for me, and one of the things that made a Cocks reunion so attractive to me, because I'd be working with people that I've known for 15 years, and who I trust implicitly, Al and Paul both. I know how they work, and I know it's crazy, but it's also what I know, rather than jumping into some project with someone I don't know. I'm not that trusting of a person, because I've been in too many situations in the past where I've realized somebody just wants something from me. And I know that's not the case with these guys. You know, we're all doing it because we think it'll be a good, fun thing to do, really. We don't have any expectations at the inception of something like that.
Anything else on the plate that you'd like to share with Choler and the world?
Let me see … well, what am I doing after the tour? I think I might go out with Pigface. If Pigface tours -- a few years ago, I wouldn't have entertained the thought --
But split the costs four ways …
-- I'm into it. I think it could be a good time. So I may do that, and I guess I'm about halfway done writing a new record. You know, of course I'm at my most super-excited about it right now, right when I'm about to go out on the road. So I would like to start recording that as soon as I can. But I don't know with whom I'm going to do it yet, or what studio or anything like that. It's very much in the writing stages, again.
Great, well, I look forward to finding out more about it before too long. And I hope the upcoming tour goes great!
I'm sure it'll be just fine. I'm just such a big baby.
You've earned it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Latest Features |
|
| Latest CD Reviews |
|
|
|
