Skype to Phone
Interview with Cris Kirkwood
Bassist/Vocalist
Meat Puppets
May 10, 2012
Transcribed by
William Jergins
Matt- The reason I skipped
from Up on the Sun this far: you seem
to be on a certain level when you make these last three or four records for
SST, and then you make this jump to London Records. You’ve already told me in an earlier
interview about some talks, say with Gary Gersh, but how do you end up on
London Records?
Cris- Let’s see. Peter Koepke was the guy at London that
signed us. Lorie Harbough was the A&R
person. It’s all business. I think that certain things were suddenly a
little more vogue, and the Seattle thing had happened and suddenly our clothing
style was a little more hip, or lack of clothing style was suddenly in. There’s that side of it. Also the band was definitely fucking lethal
at that point. The records we made in
between Up on the Sun and the London
years had definitely been a continuation of the same trip that we had always
been about. People definitely focus on
those first few early ones, and they do have a lovely sound I think. We worked with Spot on II and Up on the Sun and
both of them were done at Total Access in Redondo. And, you know, there’s a really nice little
combination right there. The next
records we made out here with Steve and Scotty doing the engineering and they
have their own distinct feel. But the
main thing is we continued on a particular thing that we had been doing. So by the time that it got to the point that
the business people thought that bands like us could make them some plans, or
they could do business with bands like us, or us in particular, we were already
at a point. That’s what they figured, I
guess. You’d have to ask them.
M- I’m hoping, in the interview today, I don’t want to get past Too High to Die, when the really big
hype starts for you. I want to go right
up to Too High to Die. In the ‘80s a
bunch of your buddies get signed, whether it be Hüsker Dü, Sonic Youth, or
Firehose, you were in the last of that bunch of groups. Were there other labels that you talked
to? We’re you involved in this yourself?
C- To a degree I was. The band
made decisions together at that point.
But we weren’t really approached by that many other labels. And all that stuff, honestly, it’s just the
ability to get the records made. There’s
definitely a relationship between the commercial side of it and the art, because
the art has to be commercialized.
One
of the reasons we made the subsequent SST records out here is cuz we
could. That’s why Mirage and Huevos came
out in the same year. Because we
could. It was a very groovy place to be
making art from in that way.
M- So were you, then, actively looking to move to a major label?
C- No. We never actively did
anything in the business realm. That
stuff just happened. We were way more
about pullin’ the Bs. No, we weren’t
actually pursuing it.
M- So then why did you decide to go to London Records? What was it about them that attracted you to
move?
C- These business opportunities presented themselves, and we weren’t
on SST ideologically. Suddenly another
opportunity presented itself. And it
seemed like it would be an interesting thing to try, because the budget was
bigger. So there you go. There’s commerce playing a part in the
art. And it wasn’t like we were against
it happening or anything, being on a major label, but it just had never
happened until that point.
M- What did a bigger budget do for you other then maybe get a bigger
paycheck once in a while? What did it do
for the band?
C- It certainly didn’t give me a bigger paycheck, but it did allow us
to make Forbidden Places at Capitol
Studios in Hollywood in the Capitol Building and spend a fuck of a long time
doing it with a producer and an assistant producer and an engineer and an
assistant engineer. It was a different
way of making an album for us. And it
was interesting. It was a fun way to do
it. I definitely enjoyed the process and
learned a lot off it. That was the
record we made with Pete Anderson, who was an interesting fit, because here’s
this band that’s been around for a long time.
If nothing else, it showed that it really is our main interest in doing
what we wanted to do musically, and then continue that for a long time
regardless of the commercial circumstances, within the commercial circumstances
that we found ourselves. So suddenly
it’s moved to some other building with other people who had a particular way of
doing business. You could tell. You know, MTV had been around for a while and
stuff, and just rock ‘n’ roll had been around for a while. The music business had been around long
enough. And to try to figure out how to
do business with them. They talked about
a producer and we’d met Pete years before when Dwight had opened for us. Because Pete is Dwight Yoakam’s guitar
player, and produced all of Dwight’s records as well. And they played with us at McCabe’s years
ago, the little guitar shop in Santa Monica.
It seemed like an interesting fit in a lot of ways as far as trying to
pick out a producer. And in the same
time span we picked out a manager. We
were suddenly readjusting our business model because the opportunity presented
itself to try these different things.
And ultimately it all went very well until I scuttled it.
But as far as Pete, once it got down to trying
to do business with these folks and having Peter sign us, Peter Koepke, trying
to make the first record, they wanted us to do that, and Pete’s a guitar
player. A real good guitarist. And we had our redneck band, and we had a
little bit of a twang to us, one of our fairly consistent aspects. So we started making a record with him, and
it was a very interesting way of making a record. Definitely more expensive. That’s for sure. But you get everything in tune. Back then it was all analog tuners, it was
before Pro Tools. It was right up my
alley, cuz we had had the studio by that point for years in my back yard, it
was just a detached garage that we had sound proofed and practiced in and had a
half inch Tascam 8-track out there. It was
in my back yard at my house. I like
recording. I like farting around with
tape, and music. It was a trip. It was charming. It was charming in a really bitchin way. A very cool thing happening.
Derrick would do his drums and then split at
points, dependent on the project, and on that one he did. He finished his drums and split. And then we’d put a little bit of this and
that on the record, here and there, little extra things, and Pete decided he
wanted to hear some shaker on one song, one of those little eggs with beads in
it, you know, “chicka-chicka-chicka.” “Do
you want me to do it?” And you know
where Pete’s at. Listen to those Dwight
records. You hear some fucking cool production.
Pristine. And he’s like, “Studio
guy.” And who should he get but Alex
Acuña.
And it was just so charming to me because being
from the seventies, there was a point where I realized, “You know I think my
brother smokes grass.” And I’d been
smoking grass for a while, and I started finding seeds around. I think I found some seeds in his car or
something. And we weren’t that close,
but we were going to go see Weather Report together and it was that night we
blew a J-bar. The first time Curt and I
smoked pot together was before this Weather Report concert in Phoenix in like
’75 maybe. And who should be the drummer
on that gig, and I’m a bass player from the seventies so I’m a hopeless Jaco-phile,
but Alex Acuña was the drummer that night with Weather Report. So I’m like, “How cool.” And the guy comes in and does the shaker part
like completely spot on, one take, just like “Oh wow.” Like professional egg playing right? That was definitely fucking perfect. And then he smells weed and he’s just like,
“Who’s got weed?” And we have good weed,
so we go get stoned. And I’m smoking pot
with the guy, and I tell him this story, that “the first time me and my brother
ever smoked pot together was one of your gigs in ’75 with Weather Report, and
now here you are playing on one of my records and getting stoned.” Charming.
The guy’s like, “Man that was like fifteen years ago. I can’t remember
five minutes ago.”
It was a new way to make a record,
definitely. And they were down with it,
because they definitely spent some money to get the thing made.
M- So this is a far cry from blocking out a studio for three days
with Up on the Sun I imagine? The recording for Forbidden Places takes place over a number of days or sessions or
what?
C- A week.
M- Were you’re staying there and then going home and then going back,
or did you live in L.A. for a while?
C- I stayed out in L.A. with an old friend of mine from high school who
had moved out quite a long time ago and still lives out there. At the time he was an editor. He worked on that CSI thing for years. Now
he’s on some other pop thing about vampires or detectives or something. But at the time he was working with Jodi
Foster on Little Man Tate, and he’s an
old dear friend of mine, Johnny Ganem. So I stayed there. Curt stayed with somebody. And there were points when we were at hotels,
but for the bulk of the thing I stayed at my friend John’s house. And it took a while, we’d go in in the
afternoon and do these sessions. It was
a completely different way of making records back then. Analog. It’s completely different and it was something
we had never done before. The main thing
being getting everything so precisely nailed down. Something we managed to do before just by
luck. Not at all like on Meat Puppets II. That mother fucker is beyond sloppy. It sounds like were on a big fat fucking sack
full of gack. And it’s just like, “Oh
well, that’s what people like about it?
Why even try?” But I try because
there’s different ways of doing things.
So the Up on the Sun thing we
actually prerecorded it. I told you
about that. We actually went in and it
was nice and specific and we really tagged that shit. There’s some really nice tight playing on
that. But there is on the next records
as well, the subsequent records, there’s some sickeningly tight shit, on our
SST records. And we did it on our own
just because the band was developing along those lines and it’s just one of
those things that Curt and I found interesting.
It’s definitely one of the directions you can take music into and for a
long time it was where I was at, you know, very picked, articulated,
psychedelicized, fueled by hatred.
Anyways, yeah, it was definitely a different
way of making it, and I liked it. One of
the main things being the vocals. And
really that was where I kinda got a lot better at singing in a lot of
ways. Because you listen to some of that
stuff, it’s me singing back up on some of those records, but Curt’s singing with
himself on a lot of it. I’m on a lot of
it, some of those things are Curt as well.
But it’s a certain place we had gotten to on the next thing, making a
record with Pete. We were getting into
recording at a different level of singing reality. It’s something I’ve never really been all
that good at, and same with bass playing in a lot of ways. I’m self-taught.
M- So a lot of the creativity is happening in the studio as opposed
to Up on the Sun?
C- No. Not really, no. With Forbidden
Places we definitely had the songs down.
We had practiced them. We
actually had a prerecording session with Pete and we were at a rehearsal studio
playing the songs with him. At one point
he tried to get gruff with us about practicing.
We rented gear and it all sucked and we had Davo drive our shit out from
Phoenix so we could do this preproduction session with Pete with our own gear
and Pete at one point got frustrated with us and was like, “re-meh-me,” getting
gruff about the gear, like making a point.
And we took him aside and told him, “Dude, don’t even think you can yell
at us.” He actually yelled and it was
just like, “ha ha ha.” And now you’re
getting us into a realm that we live in.
I mean we had been masters of our reality for a long time at that point,
and certainly had not gone into business with these people to get yelled at. And I don’t give a fuck, back then if someone
yelled at me it was like, “Hey, dude!
Don’t yell at me, man.” It was
one of those things that made the relationship healthier with Pete. “We’re getting the gear out here. You don’t need to yell at us. You know we know what we’re doing. This isn’t just us wasting our time. That’s not how this session needs to be
handled.”
So the songs were worked out before hand. And Pete’s such a guitar head and through the
process became such a Curt head, really fell in love with Curt and Curt’s work,
really recognized it for what it was. Years
later look at the solo album that Curt and Pete made. And that was Pete going to Curt just wanting
Curt to do it. That was Pete’s idea,
because he likes Curt’s work. But he’s
definitely a great guitar player and it was fun making that record with him
guitar-wise and music-wise. Plus he was
a badass at that point. He made some
huge records and he actually had Dusty Wakefield in there as the assistant
producer. Pete wouldn’t even be there,
he’d let the work down for the day, because it’s pretty industrious at that
point, because it’s analog. You just
multiply the time you’re in the studio by however much from just rewinding the
tape deck. And then Pete would come in,
and examine the work that had been done, make his suggestions or whatever, and
maybe cut out. It was just a bitchin way
to make a record. The love of the craft
itself. Also just a bitchin set of ears,
and getting us beyond our light, and it’s a fine sort of vibe in a way. Our first go around with that. Somebody else sitting there going, “Hmmm,
well I think.” And us actually allowing
that.
M- So it
sounds like you guys were kind of ready for this kind of recording after ten or
twelve years of doing it by yourself.
C- Well, no not really. I mean
ready? We had been making the records we
wanted to make for a long time and it was just a different way of doing
it. It was more time in a nice studio,
and I liked being in the studio. You’d
have to talk to Curt about this, but the guy had become just the composer for
the band flat out, which puts him in the position where everyone goes, “Hmmm,
well I think.” And I was first in line
for that shit. Because he’s the composer
but it’s also our band, not his band only.
And also I’m his little brother but like, “Yeah, but fuck you it’s our
band. So I think, goddamn it.”
M- The historical twist of fate of course is that two months after Forbidden Places comes out Nevermind comes out?.
C- Is that what happened?
M- It’s two months later, yeah.
That changes everything, right?
As far as marketing and business goes for you guys?
C- Did it?
M- I think. I mean, don’t you?
C- That was Nirvana’s record, it didn’t do anything for us. I’m not sure what you mean exactly.
M- I mean as far as marketing the Meat Puppets from a label
standpoint.
C- Oh, well, that’s the labels job.
And for sure they had their opinions and you can get really into the
specifics on this shit. I don’t really
care to in a lot of ways because it’s talking about people that are still
around that I’ll still see, and people who were doing their best at the time
and have their opinions. And no matter
what I’m the one who fucking wrecked everything so I can pretty much talk about
whatever because it would only ultimately be self deprecating at the end of it
all. Because the only thing that lends
me any credence at this point is being able to own what I did.
But I would say definitely once Nirvana broke,
sure. Because already the major labels
had had a hard time figuring out how to sell bands of our ilk. Hüsker, who were exceedingly focused, those
guys really had a unique sound and a consistent sound. Bob and Grant had different writing styles
but ultimately the delivery still managed to sound like Hüsker. They were consistent and their album cover
art was bitchin. So Warner signs them
and didn’t manage to do what whoever did with, like, REM or something. And Firehose was on a major label and they
obviously didn’t turn into REM either, or Talking Heads, bands that were not
hard rock that the labels managed to figure out how to make big. So when Forbidden
Places came out and didn’t do anything it didn’t surprise me.
M- Well, again, it gets buried, as a lot of things did, under Nevermind.
C- I think it just got buried in the same way that we still get
buried. It’s just like who gives a
fuck. How much does anybody give a
fuck? All we’re talking about is how
many people are aware of it at a particular point. How many of the things we sell. And no matter what it’s only rock ‘n’ roll so
you’re still talking about a few million at best. There’s billions of people on the planet, and
there’s been billions of people. And
everybody that’s on the planet now will fucking die and all the rest of them to
come will die, and as much as you can add it all up, unless you’re able to live
forever and actually control the universe like a box of tinker toys, what’s the
point? What are you trying to get
to? Ultimately it’s just about playing
some music for me, and you get caught up in these other things. The rest of it’s just some little variations
that the human monkey that we all cling to so desperately or so humanly.
What happened then was that Nirvana made it
easier for bands to get over. Well, not
make it easier, but definitely made the business people realize that a
scruffier look seems to be the new wave. And we just happened to be one of the bands
that the next record managed to catch a little of that, and now you look back
and it’s kind of like we were the progenitors of this particular scene. And people that were into shit that we were
into were into us, they caught it, made a commercial splash. And we were one of the bands that were still
around and caught the tail end of that.
I don’t give a fuck about that.
It’s marketing shit. It’s complex
and detailed. And look what can be done
with it. Look what marketing has gone to
now. It used to be like these trends
would happen, it seems, of their own volition in odd places like speed fueled
drunken redneck bars or coked-out gay bath houses or wherever and suddenly you
got shit-kicker music or disco. And it’s
just like a pimple. It’s like a swelling
at the neck and the groin brought about by the plague. And then it seeps out into hinterlands and
suddenly it’s a commodity to be capitalized on because it’s caught on as the
next movement in the cultural shimmer that seems to happen. And that’s what happened with stuff that
could be essentially called punk.
M- So it seems to me, though, what happens is that you guys get
signed, then Nirvana happens, and your label is sitting there going, “Well what
can we do with Meat Puppets?”
C- Oh definitely. So the brief
synopsis is that we spent quite a bit of money on Forbidden Places and it didn’t do that well. It didn’t do as well as they hoped it did
immediately. Like so many albums don’t
for bands that get signed, the first album.
Then we struggled to get the next one made at all, for them to consent
to let us make it. And we were so used
to making our albums when we wanted to and we wanted to make the next record
and had some songs and the record label was trying to steer us in a particular
direction and all that stuff started to happen and they kind of wanted us to
play along with the mode-a-day grooviness.
You’re talking about fucking old dogs in a way. Where it’s like that isn’t going to
work. It was them trying to figure it
out and asking us to try these various things and try some different things
out. And ultimately we got them to let
us go out to a studio that they had a lease agreement on out in Memphis with
our old pal Paul at the helm, in the producer’s chair. He had done some Butthole stuff, he had done the
Bad Livers at that point, but for years Paul had been into studio shit, into
the actual gear how it worked. And he
got so into it. I remember this one
time, this is such a bitchin story. We
had known them for ages and they just seemed akin to us. They’re old dear pals, and Paul is such an
interesting cat. We went out to, they
had a place outside of Austin. It was
like Dripping Springs or wherever the fuck it was. It was kind of a neat house because you could
get a bigger house because it wasn’t in the city, and those guys were doing
well enough. So they had a neat little
house and they were putting a studio together and we go in there and there’s
Paul doing all the welding on a patch bay.
The studio is a complex thing with hundreds and hundreds of welds. You know, hundreds of wires and hundreds of
welds. Teeny-weeny little, not welds, soldering. And people do that constantly. I mean it’s just constant. There’s this constant level of detail that
people do. And I’m so pleased that
people do do that. I’m fascinated with
people’s ability to come together and create these systems that are just so
complex, like the airlines, or the stock market. What the fuck is going on there? Any of this shit: countries, language, good lord! Music.
So anyways, Paul had pursued that as well, not
just specifically playing guitar in the Buttholes but had just gotten down deep
in the studio world, with the gear itself.
We had talked the label into letting us finally getting into the studio
with Paul to make Too High to Die. And you know then it just went through this
interesting permutation to where certain people heard it and then Nirvana
suddenly saying they like us.
M- Did you finish your Butthole story about
their house out in Austin?
C- Oh it was just that. Yeah,
his house outside of Austin. At one
point they were showing us their studio and there was Paul with his coal black
eyes. And the guy just seemed to be like
a walking acid trip, which is what I always got off of Paul, one of my dearest
old pals, just one of my favorite people through all this punk rock shit. And there he is and I just realized he has a
technical grasp on this shit that we use to make these records with. I mean I know how to push “record” and “rewind”
and shit, but I sure as fuck don’t have the patience to get to the level that
you’re making your own patch bay. Jesus
Christ! It was a very cool thing to
see. I’m reminded of The Dead, The
Grateful Dead, and how their scene was so rife with stoner techy dudes. And maybe that had to do it being a slightly
bigger cultural phenomenon, the hippie
acid vibe, as opposed to the punk rock hatred vibe. It attracted a different element. It seemed like it was the application of
psychedelia towards the tastiest of sounds, and the tastiest of live
shows. It’s the wastiest of experiences,
and not just your happenstance but you’re actual control of some of the
disparate elements that go into allowing some bitchin art to be made. You actually know like what “impedance”
is.
M- So how does the recording of Too
High to Die differ from the recording of Forbidden Places?
C- Well, it was out in Memphis, for one thing. So I was staying right out on the mighty Miss,
in an extend-a-stay kind of thing, kind of a slightly beat up-ish looking one,
but with our balcony overlooking the river.
And the studio itself was in an old converted cotton warehouse, an old
cotton mill warehouse thing. So a big
old building with big old wooden beams and a couple of studios in there, and
the whole time we were doing it in the ‘B’ studio, there were these Memphis
rappers who were like, you know, I mean rap.
It has its own thing, the urban black experience. There was some fucking hard-core kids in
there. It was like, “Alrighty then. You kids aren’t just rapping about guns, you
have them.” So it was just an
interesting scene and we were off in another corner, one of the studios, not in
the middle of Hollywood. You know what I
mean? We weren’t in Los Angeles, we were
in Memphis. It was with our pal Paul,
and Stewart Sullivan was doing the engineering, who Paul had worked with.
And it’s just a completely different kind of a thing. Paul is an old pal of ours, and we were
pleased to be back in the studio finally.
We had tried several different things.
The record company thought that we should go in this one particular
direction and then they kept not being happy with the results. Because they were trying to get us to do
stuff and we were trying to play along.
It’s like just the same old shit.
We were trying to get records made, and move forward, and do our
best. So it was quite a different
feel. It’s just us again in there with
Paul. And Paul was real good about it. He was real diligent and obviously interested
in working with other bands and had ideas about what it took to get records to
sound a particular way, to his satisfaction, which is basically what it takes
to be a producer. Going, you know, “Well
I have ideas, and I think I can bring something neat to this.” I mean he was changing the guitar strings
after every take. Shit like that. It’s like, “Well, okay. That’s fine.
If you wanna do that.” And
there’s slight variations in strings that have been used a couple times since
as opposed to just once. And attention
to detail to keep things as crispy and clear and it worked out good.
The main thing about those records is it gets
back to the vocals for us, some vocal issues.
Back then they were into taking the vocals and doing things with them,
and the whole process about making the record with Pete had been very extensive
about the vocals. Without Pro Tools. Now it’s just seems so archaic. Their thing was to sing a half a dozen
versions of the same line. Go through
line-by-line and pick out each word that has the best intonation, or each
phrase. And then you put together a comp
track. You take all of those separate
snippets and put them together as your comp track, as your best vocal take, Frankensteined
together out of a half a dozen good enough takes. Before we would have been, “Fine, next.” And you take that and put it on a synthesizer
or sampler and you actually use the little knob that can like waver the tone up
or down and adjust each little part where you can actually here your heart
beating if you hold a note. And you put
all these little wavers up. They called
it “flying and fixing it.” You fly it
and fix it. And you realize, “Oh you
guys have been doing this on every fucking record for the last decade. Good lord, what a laborious process. Somebody’s getting paid here.” The vocals are all nice and in tune. And I didn’t really have any problem with it
because I liked the recording process.
But ultimately Curt’s a fucking artist, and so am I to the best degree a
halfwit near retard can be, but Curt definitely has real specific ideas that
he’s on about, and then has other people tell him where to get off with
it. But we went along with that and we
wound up with a record where all of our vocals are really nice and in
tune. Forbidden Places is in tune.
And it was all done like that.
And these days they do it just, it’s still done, but now it’s all Pro
Tools. You don’t have to do any of that
shit now. You can have anybody sing
anyway and have it be manipulated unendingly to have it sound like Pavarotti. And it’s easier to do because there’s no
rewinding, it’s all digital. It’s like
video games now. Suddenly the recording
studio has turned into World of Warcraft. Lots of buttons.
M- So how long were you out in Memphis?
C- I can’t remember. Curt
could tell you. It was a while. Couple weeks.
There’s a couple really cool things that went down. Curt had written a song that eventually
became “Backwater.” He had the riff and
he had this thing and he had this part for it.
Curt had been writing for a long time and suddenly he writes this kind
of blues riff, this bluesy kind of a riff, and it’s like just a slightly
different feel for Curt to the degree that it inspired another song from
Derrick and I called “Radio Ready.” Anyway,
Curt had written that main riff to “Backwater.”
You’re talking about the band having gotten to the point where we’re all
good players, and we were still young enough.
And live we were just fucking lethal.
We had a good solid crew and took our outboard gear with us that we
plugged into the PAs every night, and Davo our sound guy back then would
manipulate the sound back there with our outboard effects. It was all about the experience, and very,
very focused.
So anyways, we’re in the studio there and
Curt’s got “Backwater” by that point, it’s up to him having lyrics and
everything for it. And it was down to,
it was one of those songs where I had an opinion. And go back to our catalog and you’ll find
songs that are like “Kirkwood/Kirkwood,” and that’s generally a song where I
had an opinion, and Curt was kind enough to let old little tag along put in his
two cents on his work. So “Backwater”
was one of those things again where, you know, “Gee, I really thing you could
use a little part. I mean if you listen
to ‘The Union of the Snake.’” So, I mean,
Curt wouldn’t be who he is if he hadn’t all along been at the point of “I
fucking don’t care.” But he’s also my
brother and he’s magnanimous, or what the fuck ever, or at points he just
agreed, or liked what I wanted to interject.
But at this point with “Backwater”, this was a beautiful thing, he’s
standing there and the idea would come up about a ‘B’ section. And this was right in the studio and all this
stuff is well practiced. We know the
material. We’ve been sitting on it for a
while trying to get the record made. And
he’s kinda got his head down, right, kinda like, there’s my “Fuck you. Leave me alone, onward.” And instead though, he’s actually ruminating
on it and just decided that maybe a middle section might be appropriate and he
sat there for a minute or two, and whipped out that middle part to “Backwater,”
that “Hey I’m blind/good,” you know that part?
And he just sat there right? And
this has been one of the coolest things that’s allowed me to be Cris of the
Meat Puppets is that suddenly Curt developed into this composer. And it’s like, “neat!” And it’s one thing to sit around and fart
around on guitar, and I can do it unendingly, but to actually write
something. I mean the guy actually
started to be able to write things that I was willing to play, or wanted to
play. It’s a different kind of thing to
be able to design on an idea and get behind it.
It has to do with who you are. It
has to do with you being able to say something.
M- This is the first time, in a long time anyways, that there are
just Cris Kirkwood songs on an album.
C- Yeah.
M- It’s kind of unusual.
C- I guess maybe it’s the beginning of the end or something. Maybe my ego had finally broken, and had I
been healthier all along it could have been a different story. I finally started to get to the point where
it’s like, “Hey! I can write a few
things here that are good enough for the band.
That can actually make it onto our record, or I can sing, or whatever.” Or maybe they were just desperate cries for
help or attention. It’s all just about
attention. I’m the little brother. Mommy didn’t love me enough. It’s one of those simple things. It’s not that complicated.
M- Curt had to agree to put them on. He could have said “no.”
C- Yeah, well, they’re good songs. They’re really good songs you know?
M- Yeah they are.
C- And he was down with that.
And then he takes them and bitchins them up a little bit. I remember like on that one song, “Every
thought’s a game/a pack of chimps I cannot tame.”
M- “Station.”
C- Yeah, “Station.” “He’s the
one who went “dunt dunt buh digga dunt.”
He put that chugging thing on there, whereas mine was more strumming,
like the demo version of it. Or like I
wrote that little line “du du dit du du dit du du dit du du du du dit,” and he
makes it liquid, and takes it out into a special place that’s neat. By that point I’d grown a lot. Making that last record had been right up my
alley. Forbidden Places was so like, “Oh this just fits right in.” I liked being in the studio and I spent all
the time in there. Curt would just do
the singing and split, but I stayed the whole time. Because I liked being in there and I liked
the work as well, and was in on all of that vocal work that we did with Dusty,
who was the assistant producer on Forbidden
Places. And, you know, does it
matter that we did all that? It just
makes the vocals come out more in tune.
But that’s just a question of tuning and whether you give a fuck or not. What matters and what doesn’t, you know, we
don’t need to decide that. But at least
it had been a realm that I felt comfortable with and enjoyed being in the
studio. And also on Too High to Die. We had been
making our own records for a while. But
I don’t know, I just wrote a few songs.
And it was just when there was the potential for things to change for me
to go a lot better and I just didn’t manage to make it go that way. It could have been different all along, but
mommy didn’t love me enough.
M- It seems that London, once this is coming together, were ready to
push you.
C- No, they weren’t at all. What
happened was we finally got to make the fucking thing and then suddenly Nirvana
is this band that comes, not out of nowhere because the Seattle scene had been
kind of burbling along, and it had been picked for a while.
M- Nevermind had been out
for two years at this point.
C- So they were just gigantic at that point. But even before that Seattle had started to
be cool. Like, “Hey, everybody’s wearing
dime story beads.” And a lot of those
bands spoke highly of the SST bands. And
for sure there were some tours up through the Northwest that were fucking
scorching. And a lot of us people that
went on to become famous rock starts were exposed to some of this shit just
like we were exposed to shit and the shit we were exposed to was exposed to
shit. But we just happened to be in this
particular batch of folks that suddenly this popular movement were citing as
some of their influences. And then
Nirvana was suddenly the biggest band in the world, and they were talking about
us. And the record company was like, “Well
huh duh duh duh.” But it hadn’t come at
that point yet.
What really happened is we played a show out in
South Carolina at a radio station, this pal of ours. The cool thing about Too High to Die is that it was completely the record that we wanted
to make. Bitchin shit went down during
the making of it, with Paul, our old dear pal Paul from the Buttholes. And it lead him on to do that Sublime record
and is now a go to, I don’t know if he’s Brian Eno or Rick Ruben, but he’s
genius to produce records, and had a gigantic smash hit with the Sublime
thing. And it was a fun record to make. It was completely the record that we wanted
to make. It was beyond the record
company trying to figure out if they could talk us into doing things that they
thought would make it easier for them to sell us or. It got down to us making the next record that
we wanted to make.
Some bitchin shit happened. I remember Curt wrote that song “Shine”: “She’s got rings on her fingers,” it’s so
pretty right? We were in the studio and
he specifically said, I was working on the bass part, and he’s like, “Do an
Africany sounding thing.” And I was into
that shit back then. There are some bitchin
African bass players. And I’m like, “Oh,
okay, groovy, groovy, groovy. You’re
talking the middle of a neck. Alright. The frets are closer together. Sounds easier to me.” And I whip out that little bass line on that,
which is a real fun little bass line in a lot of neat ways and just locks into
Curt’s line so readily. It was so down
and deep and it was such a part of the band to me. And it flows out so sparkly and neato. It’s very much a Meat Puppets record.
So then more of the same old shit where this friend
of ours we’d known for years, who loved the band from the old days, and he owned
a radio station out in South Carolina, in Charleston. He had us play at this big festival, and made
Hootie go on before us even though they were getting ready to break, but it was
a question of respect. It was a huge
festival and the record company had an influential radio guy come down and
watch it, him and his wife. And they’re
big and they think all radio stations should play this, like a hundred in the
Southeast. You know how that used to
work. And these guys saw the set and
said, “These guys are rockstars.” And they
made the record company take another look at us, made somebody else at the
record company come and take a look at the record at PLG, London’s parent,
PolyGram Label Group, and a bunch of guys from that. And I don’t even know their names, but one of
them heard “Backwater” and decided that song was something. So they made that the single, got it out on
record. And they had gone into Cobain
and had asked him for an endorsement, and they put a little sticker on it with
him and Perner and, you know, Dave’s an old friend, and they had gotten huge,
they put a little sticker on it for endorsement. Suddenly you could see they’re starting to
have an idea of the direction to take this.
Just the guy hearing the song thought something. They made that the single. And the next thing that happened was people
responded to it. People liked “Backwater.” So it started getting a lot of good phones, a
lot of people calling in for it. The
next thing you know it’s like, “Whoa!”
We became the focus of their next sales quarter. Us and, like, Salt-n-Pepa.
M- Well the Unplugged thing helped right too, because that happens
right before Too High to Die comes
out.
C- Oh did it?
M- Unplugged is in December and Too
High to Die comes out in January.
C- The thing that really made it work, even going on TV with those
guys and stuff, people really liked “Backwater.” People really took to that song.
M- It’s interesting from a marketing perspective that, to this day,
it’s the only album with photos as an album cover. It’s not Meat Puppets art on your record.
C- Oh wow! I think the President
is flying over or something. That’s
weird. There’s this huge airliner and
it’s being fucking flat out hemmed in on both sides on by fighter jets. What is it today? Is the President in town? Is that the Vice President?
M- I don’t know, you’re in Phoenix right?
C- Yeah. That’s definitely
something I haven’t seen. I haven’t, I
mean I don’t know if I’ve noticed, like terrorists flying around or something
like that. Or maybe someone’s just
stolen the jet and they’re about to be shot down.
M- This could be a moment and we have it on tape.
C- Yep. They’re taking the normal flight path out of town but it’s
just a big fucking. . . I don’t have my glasses on. Unfortunately. I’m in my back yard and I can’t see very
good. So I couldn’t quite tell if it’s
actually a commercial jet or. Where are
my fucking glasses? Goddamn it! But it’s definitely like one of those Air Force,
or Air Forcey-like jets, one on each side of the fucking thing. Interesting.
Look, there’s my mailman. Maybe I
can ask him.
M- Okay. So anyway, is there more to say?
C- I don’t know. It’s your
interview.
M- Other than you didn’t respond, because of the airplane, to my
comment about it’s the only Meat Puppets record to this day that has a
photograph as the album cover. It smacks
of marketing to me.
C- Oh yeah. That was
theirs. I think they actually designed
that. We came up with something and they
turned it pink.
M- Is that why you’re wearing dresses?
C- That was us. That was us
just farting around. That was a photo
shoot we did up in Sedona. They didn’t
ask us to do that. That was just a photo
shoot we had done farting around with dresses on. But I think it was their idea to make the
record pink like that, and it was definitely their idea to put a sticker on it
with our contemporaries’ endorsements.
And it’s just like, “Eh, yeah,” because we’re the ratty old Shit Puppets
who nobody likes. So it’s like, “Look kids!
Come on kids! Come on kids!” It’s just marketing crap. I’m not into the entertainment industry in a
way to really play along and to repeat something that would be easily
marketable. I don’t got anywhere near a
big enough a dick. And I don’t
compensate for my lack of penile girth with a fancy hairdo or stylish
clothes. Better look elsewhere. I really am a fucking horrible person. I think I’ve proven that without fail. Repeatedly.
And it’s marketing weirdness, you know?
And I made a band with my brother and I’m still in it. If it was down to the marketing shit we’d
have stopped. Immediately. Or not named ourself something like Meat. If it was down to that I’d have stayed in
school and became a dentist.
Look what they do now. They take bands out. They don’t sign things and try to work it
through those channels. Now they just
put singers on TV and go, “Who do you like?
Which one of these do you like?”
Until they get the one that people that watch the show like, and then
some of them become gigantic fucking stars.
And most of them don’t still, but they don’t have to waste a lot of
vinyl at least trying to see which one’s going to stick, which one people
want. It gets back to Michelangelo
forced to spend years of his life painting.
The guy wasn’t into it, wasn’t his bag.
But if you want to get the work done that you wanted to do, you had to
do that. Same old shit, right?
M- Right.
C- I’m a side guy, dude. I’m a
side guy in a band. I’m Curt’s most
devoted and longest lived employee.
Here’s the lowdown on everything at this point. Two weeks ago I lost my dearest, dearest
friend. My sweet, sweet doggie Horky. He had been with me a really fucking long
time. Michelle, my late wife, got him
after our dog got hit by a car while she was in jail eight months after my mom
died. And Horky was all that remained
from those dark days. Except me. I’ve come into my reality really fucking well,
and it’s because of who I am, obviously.
I did the things because of who I am.
But Horky was a very, very dear friend, and about my only friend. It’s a tough thing. Things just continue to be tough. I’m just fucking readjusting to my life
without my sweet little doggy, who’s been with me for so long.
Horky was a magical thing. Michelle, you know our dog got hit by a car while
she was in jail, our dog Rosie. Just
like all these improbable series of fucking torments brought about by our
irresponsible behavior. And one day she
comes home, after she’s out of jail, with a teeny weeny little puppy that had
been adopted and brought back because the people thought it was sickly. It didn’t have a mommy or brothers or
sisters, and was on its last day. They
used to put up little announcements saying this dog is scheduled to be
euthanized tomorrow. And she brought him
home and he became Horky. He was
Horky. And then she died. And it really got down and I just devolved
into such a me reality. It was just me
and Horky, such a primal netherworld.
And that’s where I’m at these days. I think the band is a venerable wonderful
fucking thing. And I’m very, very
pleased to have found the wherewithal to have been invited back into my brother’s
world and the bitchin world that we made together as kids and allowed it to
have another really seriously interesting continuation. To let it have this next phase to happen and
to have continued to happen and to have taken it to where now it can be this
kind of a thing where it was already a bitchin band that did some neat shit and
made some records that were popular and that people liked, and to have gotten
up again in the way that we did and for Curt to have kept it going. It’s exceedingly human.
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