Interview w/ Magik Markers: Some Kind of Blood Orgy

As published by LA Record:

Formed in 2001 in a Connecticut basement, Magik Markers have covered a lot of ground, figuratively and literally. Now based in New York, noise rock duo Pete Nolan (drums, percussion) and Elisa Ambrogio (guitar, vocals) recently became a trio, adding John Shaw (bass) to the lineup. The band recently performed in an Estonian occult film and bobbed around in the Dead Sea. This interview by Linda Rapka.

I saw you perform a couple years ago in New Orleans at a fabulously grungy dive called the Hi-Ho Lounge. There was only a handful of people there, but you guys still tore shit up. Do you like playing smaller venues?
Pete Nolan (drums): We love dives. And we love New Orleans. This guy Rob down there always shows us around. He took us to this place Ernie K-Doe's — the guy that sang that '50s song "Mother in Law." He was this crazy flamboyant character, like Little Richard meets Sun Ra. He's dead but his widow has this bar where there's this weird effigy to him and they carry it around in parades and stuff.

Back in Hartford you guys used to throw shows in Elisa's dad's basement.
It's the best kind of show. It was a total party zone—authentic out of the '60s. There was a Hubert Humphrey poster on one wall, black-lit spray painting everywhere and this really cool figure of this Randy California/Hendrix-looking guy playing guitar. It was a cool zone but it was a wreck when we lived there. It was her grandparents' house so it had filled up with shit. There were all these boxes — mostly of lottery card receipts. I cleaned out maybe 50 boxes of nothing but receipts for lottery cards. It really was a complete shitpile of crazy. There was an army of dirty stuffed animals. It was a cool zone but I had to basically put a bunch of shit in one corner of the room and sort of drape it away and then we could have shows there.

What were the basement shows like?
It was Hartford. Some of the shows we only had like ten people there — Hartford G's smokin' blunts. But the premiere show for the Magik Markers was a total blowout show. This band Tart played, and the Bunnybrains. That was the only show we played there. Our first and last. And then they actually lost the house.

How did Magik Markers end up being in a film in Estonia?
Last year we played in Estonia with this director Veiko Õunpuu. Apparently he was really into our Boss record, and he made this crazy movie called The Temptation of St. Tony and wanted us to be in his film. These things come out of left field. We were just in Jerusalem — we were in Jesus' tomb! — and then we walked from there to play a show. I really am baffled by some of the stuff that we've done. It's a strange sort of occult movie about some businessman who somehow gets involved with the underworld scene in Estonia. We were on the border of Russia, and all the shooting was in this Stalinist European ballroom. There was this dinner party going on and we were the house band. After we played, they brought out all these girls who were dressed up as signs of the zodiac, and a devil character made this speech saying, "We believe that the zodiac is going to fall, and we want you to vote for what sign you want to go first." They all voted and they took the girl in the back and chopped her up in pieces, and they all ate her. Some kind of blood orgy ensued after that. On the film set itself they were just drinking vodka like animals. Everyone was wasted. We were totally freaked out. We didn't know what the hell was going on.

Not every band goes from Jesus' tomb to a blood orgy in Estonia within a year.
It's hard to turn down opportunities like those. That's the thing — if you can go somewhere and see something that you've never seen before, on a personal level that's helped me develop. It can spur you on and spur your imagination on. We were just at the Dead Sea, floating around. It was really sting-y. I had all these cuts on my face from shaving and it burned.

I thought the Dead Sea was supposed to be healing.
Yeah, it was healing. I was being cured like a ham or something.

With all your world travels, what made you name your new album after a local quarry?
That's all Elisa's thing. Her big thing is that no band has ever come out of Hartford or claimed they're out of Hartford. Anyone from Hartford moves to New York and says, "Hey, we're a New York band." She's like, "No, we're from Hartford." When the record came out the Hartford Courant did this huge story about us — in the paper our faces took up half the page. They were like, "Wow, you're from Hartford? You named your record after this quarry?" It was major news in Hartford.

The producer on the new record is Scott Colburn, who's worked with bands like Animal Collective, Arcade Fire, Clinic and Feral Children. How’d you hook up with him?
The label asked who we wanted to record with. We kind of could do whatever we wanted. We were thinking Scott Colburn, and I was really into it because I'm a big Sun City Girls fan and I knew he was their producer. It was almost from a geeked-out fan perspective that we wanted to work with him. I didn't even realize that he'd done stuff with Animal Collective. He had a great zone. We were right in his house up there in Seattle. His house is a converted church. He's a total audio nerd. He really knows how to suck the best sound out of a room, and a band.

The band puts out limited-release CD-Rs of live shows and studio recordings on your label, Arbitrary Signs, between official albums. What drives this need for perpetual output?
We always wanna have something new for when we hit the road. Every time we go on tour we make something new and we're always recording, and so much of it's improvised and in different styles.

Is it like keeping your own musical scrapbook?
Yeah, it definitely is kind of like a documentary kind of thing. It's kind of slowed down a bit 'cause we only get together when we're touring. We have to make more of an effort to get together and just jam. I think these days we're probably gonna do more LP stuff just 'cause with the CD-R thing... those are just gonna be blank in like five years. It's an obsolete document. The last time we had a serious practice I had to take a bus up to western Massachusetts and be away from my family for four days. Just so we could practice. I don’t want to make such a huge effort and make a freakin' CD-R.

What makes it harder for the band to get together now?
Oh Jesus. Honestly, I don't even know how we've kept it together for so long. I think the only reason is 'cause we pretty consistently get some cool opportunities. There seems to be some people who are hip to what we're doing, so we want to now perpetuate for that reason.

Does the term "noise band" annoy or offend you?
No, that's super cool. I think it kind of is, at this point, dated or whatever, but there was a period in time when there was a lot going on across America — people doing this noise music. We're definitely rooted in that. Our first tour we toured the United States and played just like eight shows and sort of tapped into these places. Like in Baltimore, we played this place Tarantula Hill with Nautical Almanac and all of these sort of weirdos with similar abstract intents. We definitely have had an abstract intent all along.

With your new album, Balf Quarry, it seems you're moving away from noise and more into fully developed rock. There are even a couple of piano ballads.
We want to make records that are more like the kind of music that we want to listen to. We've had some time to devote to making records in our studio. Elisa's spending a lot of time with lyrics. It's not really so far off from where our intent is always: sort of improvised. We don’t usually go into a studio with too many songs pre-made. We usually have two or three ideas and then we kind of make up the rest. It's a pretty organic process. I think it's cool — it yields all kinds of results. The fact that we're just a two-piece makes it so we do a lot more layering and overdubbing and stuff like that.

You just added a third member to the band.
For a while we'd gone as a duo but now we're always a three-piece. We wouldn't do it any other way now. We just got this guy John playing bass — he's done a couple tours with us. I think we've maybe progressed to a whole sort of different thing. We've got a split record coming out with Sic Alps for this tour and on that record we recorded it all as a three-piece. It's all live recordings. In a way, it's harkening back to how we used to record — all live — and it has the feeling of a live band. It's something else. It's more psychedelic — more like these heavy jam zones, really cool guitar.

How did you end up playing drums with Jandek?
I've played with that dude a few times. The first time, he was supposed to play a show here in Chinatown in New York, and I was the last-minute guy. I'm pretty into Jandek. I've got a lot of his records, so it was a big deal for me to play with him. I didn't know what was expected, and we went and had this practice for like three hours, and he was so bummed.

Jandek was bummed with your playing?
He was just like, "Yeah, I don't know. I don't think I can go through with it." I was just like, "What the hell am I supposed to do? I'm sounding awful." But then we played the show and it turned out really cool. We played for an hour longer than we were supposed to. Then he had a show in London so he got me and Matt Heyner from the No Neck Blues Band to come over. That was really fun. We got loose with him there — we went out afterwards and got kinda drunk. Dude likes to party.

Is it true that early Magik Markers lyrics consisted of reciting the periodic table?
Maybe... I really don't know. Most of my memories of early Magik Markers shows, I can remember Elisa coming out like we're the MC5 or something, and Leah [Quimby, original live bassist] and Elisa, we didn't have any clue how to play, but we would fuckin' come out with that power anyway.

And blood, too. There was always some bloodshed at your shows.
Sometimes. Yeah, I guess maybe every time. I remember we always used to play a song called "23 Sprig Street," and another called "Marianne Faithfull 1966," but it would always be a completely different song. Elisa fucking has some profound improvisational lyrical moments. I think there's a really great thing on YouTube of us playing early on in London where she’s really going off. She'd torn the neck off her guitar and she's on the mic going way out and me and Leah are just like bashing away. It's really cool.

Has there been much onstage bloodshed lately?
Uh... yeah. I mean, yeah. I don't think we've changed as much as people think we have.

Interview w/ The Soundtrack Of Our Lives: "All Time is One Time"

Soundcheck @ the Troubadour 3/16/09. Photo by Linda Rapka


My interview with Swedish rock gods The Soundtrack Of Our Lives as published by LA Record:


The premiere psych-rockers of Scandinavia, Ebbot Lundberg (vocals), Mattias Bärjed (guitar), Kalle Gustafsson (bass), Martin Hederos (keys), Ian Person (guitar) and Fredrik Sandsten (drums) have redefined what it means to be influenced by ’70s psychedelia, prog pop and classic rock. Though Sweden’s economy is in as much trouble as ours, TSOOL wasn’t bashful about releasing their latest effort Communion—a discussion of the corporate mass psychosis that has slowly taken over the world—as an epic 90-minute double-CD. The band stopped by L.A. for the first time since opening for Robert Plant four years ago, having just enough time to do Leno, play a one-off at the Troubadour, and perform an acoustic set at a private party thrown by the Swedish Embassy in their honor. Just before sound check, Ebbot, Ian and Mattias strolled over to a nearby park to soak in some California sunshine, get trampled by frolicking dogs, and chat with Linda Rapka about their album.


Explain the cover art of your new album, “Communion” – a wealthy, middle-aged Caucasian couple drinking an ungodly concoction of fluorescent green alien juice.
Ian: We hired this guy to come up with some ideas about mass communication. So he came up with a few suggestions and this came up, and we kind of collaborated from there.

So what exactly is in that drink?
Ebbot: Tomorrow we will find out, because they’re gonna have this party, and they’re gonna do these drinks. So I’m curious!
Ian: We’re going to a party at the Swedish Embassy.
Ebbot: There will be lots of them there…

The new album was based on a theme of modern mass psychosis – which I see happening here in the U.S. Was America a major source of inspiration?
Ebbot: It was a global thing. I don’t know if you’ve seen the whole [CD] package, but it’s not only Caucasians, but all people.
Ian: It’s like Noah’s Ark.
Ebbot: Yeah, it’s like an ark. It’s just pictures you see every day without even thinking about it. It can be plastic surgery, it can be like a life coach, or whatever. I’m curious about the people on the cover – they don’t really know they’re on the cover. So we’ll see what’s going to happen. We might get sued!

Releasing a double CD in today’s economy is pretty ballsy.
Ian: We didn’t go out and say, “Let’s do a double CD.” It sort of evolved itself, really.
Mattias: I guess we always wanted to do a double album as well and now it just felt natural to do that.

You recently got out of your contractual obligations from Warner Bros. The last album you worked on, “Origins: Vol. 1,” they were pestering you about what was going to be the radio hit. That can be difficult when trying to create a work of art.
Ian: Especially when you’re in the studio and trying just to get everything going.
Ebbot: Well, I dunno. There’s a lot of singles on the new one, so we’re just gonna put out singles from the album and see what happens. Milk it as long as we can.
Ian: Basically Warner didn’t really have the money, ’cause we wanted a certain amount of money to do this album and they said no.

This album sounds a lot more energized than “Origins.”
Ian: We kind of had a lot more fun!
Mattias: We had some time off, actually like two years, before we started working on this album, so I guess that’s – you can hear that.
Ian: We had a lot of energy going in.

It sounds like it – which is probably why you ended up with so many songs.
Ian: For once it was quite easy to do the album. For once it was quite fun!

It always sounds like you guys are having fun.
Ian: But this time we actually had fun! We always had fun afterwards when the album is done. But now it was a nice process all the way.

I read that each of 24 tracks is supposed to symbolize each hour of the day.
Ebbot: It could be. It could be anything.

Were you trying to bring back the lost art of the concept album?
Ebbot: Yeah, why not? We grew up with it and we love it, so why not?

In today’s mp3 culture, a concept album is a way to bring back listening to an entire album.
Ian: Absolutely. Take some time off and listen. That’s one thing to do. The vinyl is coming back. All the record stores back home now they carry as much CDs as vinyl these days. The kids are learning.
Ebbot: It’s more like you do something that you wish existed and then you do it. You kind of miss it, you miss idea of what this became.
Ian: Carry on with the old legacy.

You cover a Nick Drake song, which is an interesting choice – not many people are perhaps brave enough to take on Drake.
Ebbot: That was the reason. Nobody ever did it. Maybe it was the wrong idea, I don’t know! We kind of did it around the demo version, which is on “The Time of No Reply.” The other one, John Cale produced, and it doesn’t really sound that good.

Another track, “The Fan Who Wasn’t There,” was based on a conversation that Ebbot had with Arthur Lee.
Ebbot: Yeah, some of it. He played in Gothenburg, his manager was there, who passed away like six months later, and then he passed away, sadly. It’s inspired by that conversation, having drinks for three hours. That was pretty fun. But it was sad…

It sounds like there were a lot of ’60s/’70s influences going on.
Ian: Yes.
Mattias: Yes.
Ebbot: Yes. And we DJ’d. It’s like all time is one time.
Ian: Squeeze them all in together. The best picks of raisins in the cookies.

I don’t like raisins.
Ian: Chocolate chips then.

Do you enjoy listening to your own records?
Ebbot: Yes. We’re warming up to it sometimes. Our own records. There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s The Soundtrack of our Lives. We try to be what the name is. Sometimes it sucks. And sometimes it’s OK.

I stumbled upon a food blog where your bandmate Martin had posted his recipe for lamb tagine. Do any of you have any hidden surprises?
Ian: Martin and I are the chefs in the band. I’m into the Italian kitchen at the moment. A friend of mine had his wedding recently and I cooked for like 200 people.
Ebbot: Did you get paid?
Ian: No, I didn’t get paid. But the food was great. And I got to eat the food.

The food is what’s really important.
Mattias: When we come over here we try to eat as much Mexican food as possible because it’s really hard to find good Mexican food in Scandinavia – Sweden, Norway or Finland – it’s impossible.
Ebbot: There are no Mexicans. Just Finnish people.

You haven’t been to the U.S. since 2005.
Ebbot: We actually here in 2007 in New York for a while.
Ian: And Austin last year, SXSW. We did a couple of hit and runs. Guerilla warfare.

But what about L.A.? We missed you.
Ian: We love L.A., so we’ve been sad.
Ebbot: We went to China last year.
Ian: But that’s not America.

Was that your first time in China? What was it like?
Ebbot: It was exactly like here. But it’s even more futuristic. It’s like beyond “Bladerunner.”
Ian: The director’s cut.
Ebbot: It’s happened. It’s really growing fast and scary.

That is a lot of billions of people.
Ebbot: And they’re working all night. It’s like, “You’d better stop.” They’re just like ants.
Mattias: We might go to Taiwan in a month.
Ian: And then South America in the fall.

Do you get time to actually enjoy the countries you visit?
Ian: We try and plan a couple of days. When we did those long tours we didn’t have much time, but now in China we had a few days off, Australia we had like five, six days to hang out.
Ebbot: We spent a lot of time in L.A. and had a lot of time off here.

And a lot of Mexican food.
Mattias: Yeah. As you can tell.

If Obama’s stimulus package fails and I move to Sweden, who’s couch can I stay on?
Ian: Kalle’s got a grand studio. It’s gigantic.
Mattias: My guitar tech is single.

Cello Without Boundaries: Interview with Tina Guo

Published in the May 2009 issue of the Overture, official publication of Professional Musicians, Local 47.


Cello Without Boundaries

From classical to prog rock to metal, cellist Tina Guo pushes her instrument to a realm of endless possibilities

by Linda Rapka, Overture Managing Editor


Cellist Tina Guo has never been one for cookie-cutter labels. A virtuoso on the classical cello, the 23-year-old crossover artist is equally skilled as a powerhouse shredder on electric cello, masterfully balancing classical elegance with her inner metal child.

Tina began her musical training at age 3 in Shanghai before moving to the United States when she was 5. In the classical realm, Tina has appeared as a soloist with many orchestras internationally, including the San Diego Symphony, Thessaloniki State Symphony in Greece, Petrobras Symphony and Barra Mansa Symphony in Brazil, Vancouver Island Symphony in British Columbia, and most recently she performed the "Shostakovich Cello Concerto" with the National Symphony Orchestra in Mexico. She has also recorded with artists such as Stevie Wonder, Josh Groban, Michael McDonald and John Legend.

On what she calls her more visceral side, Tina plays electric cello on her own metal music as well as in progressive metal band Off the Deep End and has performed with rock artists including Zakk Wylde, Derek Sherinian and Persian superstar Andy Madadian.

Tina speaks with the Overture about coming to terms with her divergent musical identities, her upcoming projects, and her lust for life.


You started music at a very early age, which I understand wasn't always easy.
Both my parents are musicians. My father's a cellist, and my mom plays violin. Plus, they're Chinese, so they're very strict! It's very rare for a kid to want to sit in a room eight hours a day practicing. My parents forced me to, and I hated them. But after I grew up a little and came to L.A. for college at USC, my love of music developed. I realized it wasn't just a punishment. I found that having the technical control of the instrument gave me the ability to express myself freely. It's a very good foundation. Actually, pretty recently I've repaired my relationship with my parents.

You play classical on acoustic cello and metal on electric cello. How do each enable you to express yourself?
The beauty of classical music is being able to push and pull within a defined boundary, being able to work magic within what's allowed. I think classical and metal are the two closest, emotionally, in music, because they're very deep. There's a lot of depth and emotion. In metal, usually it's more tortured emotion. When you play metal, there is no box, you can do whatever you want. I feel most spiritually connected to the universe through classical music. But metal, that's primal. It's carnal, it's visceral. It's not on a higher realm of being. Classical, for me, is more enlightened. They're both on each side of the extreme.

What inspires you most as a musician?
Emotionally and mentally, for a human being, at least for me, I think you have to experience life in order to express it in your music. I mean, what is your music going to say if you don't know anything?

What are you working on right now?
I have my solo classical stuff, and I'm just starting to work on my solo metal project. I'm working on a metal version of "Flight of the Bumblebee."

You're also in a progressive rock band.
I have a band, with my boyfriend, called Off the Deep End. We are off the deep end – we're crazy! My boyfriend has more of a classic rock influence than myself. It's an interesting mixture. Our very first gig was the official wrap party for the Sundance Film Festival. We only had two songs, because we had just started the band. So we played our opening song, our closing song, and got off the stage.

Who has had the most influence on you musically?
When I was at USC I played at Disney Hall in a quartet with Midori. She's a great musician. I learned a lot from her. I'm naturally really crazy, up and down emotionally. She taught me there's something beautiful about control, and when you do decide to go over the edge, it's really something major.

Who have you worked with on the metal/rock side?
Recently I played on a track with Zakk Wylde, the guitar player for Ozzy. Most of the time people still use string instruments and cello for pretty things, which is fine, but my metal side wants to replace the lead guitar and do all that with electric cello.

These days a lot of traditionally orchestral instruments are going electric.
I think it's definitely a movement that's starting. Electric guitars once didn't exist, but somebody decided to plug in a classical guitar, and now electric guitar is like second nature.

You joined Local 47 a year ago. Has being a union member had an impact?
When I was at USC I met Mark Robertson, a union member who plays violin, who told me about it. Being in the union's great. All of the major session work and TV shows and movies – you can't do them if you're not in the union. It's a great safety net with the economy the way it is. They have the Relief Fund, there's a Pension Fund, there's health insurance... I was amazed when I found out about it, because being a freelance musician and not having a retirement fund is really scary.

Do you have any advice for aspiring cellists?
I don't mean to be cliché, but just be yourself. I can't tell anyone to be wild and do everything, 'cause maybe that will make someone unhappy and miserable. You just have to do what you love to do. But also be realistic. If you find that something isn't working out, don't stick in there until your life falls apart. Also, I think marketing yourself is very important. You have to meet people to get places. Sitting in a practice room for 10 hours a day is not gonna get you anywhere.

Classical and metal are seemingly at opposite ends of the spectrum. How do you account for being able to so seamlessly delve into both realms?
You only live once, and you have to embrace life. You have to do everything that you can do – without killing yourself. I don't drink at all, I don't do any drugs. I guess I find my excitement in other ways, and I try to artistically pursue as much as I can to the very extreme without going overboard. Whatever you tell me I can't do, I'm gonna do it just to make you angry. Sometimes that gets me into trouble, but for me personally, I'd rather be the lion than the lamb.

Visit Tina Guo online at www.tinaguo.com.

Tickling the Ivories With Roger Williams

Published in the March 2009 issue of the Overture, official publication of Professional Musicians, Local 47.


Tickling the Ivories With Roger Williams

by Linda Rapka, Overture Managing Editor


Pianist Roger Williams is used to being in the limelight, but you wouldn't know it from speaking with him. Modest about his talent, he speaks more of his joy of music rather than his accomplishments – which are many. Throughout his seven-decade career he's accumulated 18 gold and platinum albums and can perform an estimated 10,000 songs from memory, a feat he proves every year during 12-hour marathon performances in the name of bringing music back to public schools. In December, his latest CD, "Roger Williams in the Crystal Cathedral," became the #1 seller in the Readers Digest catalogue. He speaks with the Overture from his home in Encino.

You've performed for so many U.S. Presidents, you're known as "Pianist to the Presidents."
I've played for nine presidents now. The first one I ever played for was Harry Truman. I didn't realize how much Truman knew about piano. He asked for everything from Bach to Shostakovich. When I got through, he said, "Now I'm gonna play for you, Roger." I figured he'd sit down and play something like "The Missouri Waltz," but he played the Chopin "C-Sharp Minor Waltz." When he got through, I said, "Mr. President, you would have made a great pianist." He said, "I had a choice between being a whorehouse pianist or a politician. Many times I thought I made the wrong choice."

How did you meet Ronald Reagan?
We started in the same radio station in Iowa. He was a sportscaster, and I had my own radio show. The last time I played for him he said, "Can you remember the theme song from my TV show 'Death Valley Days'?" I said, "You sure got me on that one!" He said, "I'm only kidding. Play 'The Impossible Dream.' That encompasses everything I've tried so hard to do for this great country." He was quite a guy.

Have you performed for President Obama?
I was at the White House in December and played for all the foreign and current ambassadors in the East Room, but I haven't played for Obama yet. But this will happen... I hope!

Every year you perform 12-hour piano marathons to raise awareness for music education in schools.
The last one I played was 14 hours, and believe me, my fingers are bleeding at the end. When people come to these performances we hand them a piece of paper at the door, and they write what they want me to play. A lot of musicians come, so they ask for all these difficult things. So it's a very exhausting performance before I'm through.

What inspired you to get involved with bringing music to students?
I'm really upset about a lot of things. I loved Reagan, but he's like me – he's the greatest guy in the world, except when he isn't. He largely took music out of the schools. Kids are not really inspired. I would like really seriously to get music back into the schools, which has proved to make better students – they get better grades, they're happier, the whole thing.

Do you still enjoy playing as much as you did when you first began your career?
I am playing better than I've ever played in my life, and I can't understand that. I'll be 85 my next birthday, but I play better than I did when I was 20. I've got a lousy knee that I got playing basketball in high school, but outside of that I'm in great health, and I feel great, so I'm playing up a storm!

You've performed practically everywhere imaginable, from Carnegie Hall to the White House to Vegas casinos. What's been your favorite?
So many musicians will tell me, "I think Milwaukee is lousy, I was there last month and I hated it." What they're usually trying to say is they were bad that night. No matter where I am, if I'm in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and I play a great concert – I love Cedar Rapids, Iowa! But if I louse up…

You are a frequent guest on the "Hour of Power" TV show with Dr. Robert Schuller. How did that relationship develop?
Duke Ellington was playing a concert at the Crystal Cathedral. He got sick and asked me to substitute for him, so I went in to play. My manager forgot to bring the music for the orchestra, so I asked the musicians to make a few requests. Someone asked for "Jesus Loves Me," so for almost an hour I improvised in the style of all the composers. Schuller came up afterwards and just flipped out, saying he'd never heard anything like that in his life, and asked me to be on his program. I told him I don't charge for these religious things that I play – I just come in and try and thank God for the gift that he gave me. So he said, "Would you like to testify?" I said I don't know, because I believe in so many religions and have so much respect for so many religions. So he said, "I tell you what. You pray through your fingers." I said, "If that's good enough for you, that's good enough for me!" I have played with him now for over 30 years, whenever I'm in town. And of course we have a union orchestra out there, but I just don't charge.

I heard that to get you to practice piano as a child, your mother had to bribe you with milk and cookies.
She always had a plate of cookies and a pitcher of milk on the piano when I got home from school, and I practiced until the cookies ran out. Music always came so easy for me. I never really had to worry about it, so I didn't like to practice.

You used to aggravate piano teachers because you could play back exactly what they played to you.
All along the way I had trouble. Even in the university, the heads of the department were very jealous. This is something that we have to face in life. You have to pay for the things that you get in life. I was given a gift. I know about 10,000 different songs. I can read music, but I just don't fool with it. And I can play them in any key. But I'm a lousy golfer.

Is it true you were expelled from Drake University for playing "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes"?
For my girlfriend, yes. In those days Drake had a policy of the three B's: Bach, Beethoven and Brahms. My girlfriend came in the practice room one day and asked if I knew that song, and just then the head of the department came in, screaming, "We don't do that here!" As Truman would say, "whorehouse music."

I understand in high school you wanted to be a boxer.
My father was a former boxer. Have you ever heard of a PK? It's a preacher's kid. And the combination of preacher's kid and musician spelled sissy in school. So my dad put a pair of gloves on me! And when I got in the Navy, I won the championship. I broke my nose two different times boxing, so I stopped.

What led you to a career in music?
When I was a kid, my father had the largest Lutheran church in the country. People would buy their kids trumpets and violins and everything else, and the kids would get tired of playing them after a couple of years and they'd donate them to the church. So we had all those instruments there and I just played anything that came in. by the time I was 12, I played about 13 different instruments. I play anything. I just love music.

What drew you to the piano?
It was a process of elimination, really. I really felt closer to the piano than anything else. We all gotta do what we feel. That's why I hate to make rules for anyone in life, because we're all so different mentally, chemically, religiously – how dare we tell the other guy he has to be that way! Live and let live. I believe in Darwin, I believe in evolution. I think that basically we're all animals, and I think that when we try and rise above the animal, that's when we become truly men and women.

In 2005, Steinway & Sons created the Roger Williams Limited Edition Gold Piano, the first piano ever named for an artist in the company's 153-year history.
They made a gold Steinway for me, and it's just beautiful. They've never done that for an artist before, and I was the first one to receive the Steinway Lifetime Achievement Award, too. Steinway's been awfully good to me.

That sounds like every pianist's dream come true.
Well, it certainly was mine.

When did you join the musicians union?
I was 11. My dad took me and said, you're playing on the radio now, it's time to the join the union. And I did, and I've been a union member ever since. That was in Des Moines, Iowa.

How important do you think it is for young musicians to join the union?
We have to have somebody standing up for us. We do. And we have to establish a base. I always pay my musicians over scale. But if you don't have anything to go by… I strongly believe in the union. Except when I don't.

What's your advice to budding musicians just getting started in the business?
It's the kind of advice that they probably wouldn't take because they've heard it from the beginning: Work your butt off. I'm the luckiest guy in the world, and I mean that. That doesn't mean my knee doesn't hurt. But compared to much, I'm a very fortunate man.

Interview w/ Hal Blaine (LA Record)

Illustration by Zach Hill


My interview with Hal Blaine as published in LA Record.


Listen to K-Earth for 10 minutes and you’ll hear Hal Blaine’s drums on at least half of the playlist. Drummer of the legendary group of session musicians in the ’50s and ’60s dubbed ‘The Wrecking Crew,’ Hal is the most recorded drummer of all time, estimated to have played on nearly 6,000 of the best known songs in modern history with hundreds of artists including Frank Sinatra, the Beach Boys, Elvis Presley, the Byrds, the Grass Roots, Sonny & Cher, the Mamas & the Papas, and Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass. He recorded 40 #1 singles, had 150 songs in the Top Ten, played on eight albums that won Grammys for Record of the Year, and was a key figure in Phil Spector’s ‘Wall of Sound.’ He celebrates his 80th birthday on Feb. 5. This interview by Linda Rapka.

Who’s a better drummer—you or Richard ‘Pistol’ Allen of the Funk Brothers?
There’s no such thing as ‘better.’ I might have been luckier. I probably did many more hit records than he did. I have very close to 6,000 now.

You’ve played drums on more records than anybody — ever.
Probably. Yeah, probably. I guess there’s a thing called YouTube, and I was told you punch up my name and there are lists and lists and lists of albums I did.

How were you able to master so many different styles and genres?
We were all very well-versed — very studied musicians, graduates of music schools and institutions. If you wanna make it to the big time, you’ve got to know what you are doing. We knew what we were doing. We could go in and play any kind of music that was put in front of us, including the big music that was just coming in — rock ’n’ roll.

Did it bother you that you weren’t credited on all these hit records?
No. I was just happy playing my drums. We were very fortunate. We were all nightclub musicians making little money, and all of a sudden we fell into this—I like to call it this ‘vat of chocolate.’ In the beginning, they just never put credits on albums of musicians or background singers. One of the great producers came around, Bones Howe, and insisted that we get credits, and all of a sudden it started happening.

How many tracks would you record in a day?
Anywhere from one to 12 for a complete album.

You’d cut a whole album in a single day?
We often did. In a double session we’d do six in the first and six in the second.

What takes most bands months took you guys one day.
That’s because we had the studio experience. When we were doing Beach Boys, Dennis Wilson was a fine drummer, but he wasn’t really a drummer—he was a piano player. He’d go out there, but I was making the records. I was making 60 bucks that afternoon, and he probably making $50,000 or $60,000 that night.

Did it piss you off that you were making all these other people rich while your own albums couldn’t sell?
It never did because I was hired to make records, and every time I went in to record all I wanted to do was make a hit record for those people, not for myself. I mean sure, if I was on a record with Elvis Presley, of course that was a feather in my cap. And I wound up with more feathers than an Indian chief. I just never became an egomaniac. I didn’t go around saying, ‘Do you want me to use my John Denver sticks?’

Would you have preferred to have made it big in your own band?
Really, no. It’s like with movie stars: they have their hit movie, they work for so many years, they get their Oscar, and then they don’t do it anymore. I was like a good character actor. I worked in everything. I was very fortunate.

The Monkees were condemned for having the Wrecking Crew cut their albums, but all the top artists at the time were doing the same thing. Did they get a bad rap?
With the Monkees, all of a sudden it became a big scandal in Hollywood. But most people knew that they didn’t play on their records. Most people knew that we did the Beach Boys records and the Partridge Family and all those groups. They were all hits, and that’s the reason they were hits. What happened to the Monkees — it’s very silly.

Did it sink in at the time that you were doing something special?
You didn’t realize how much you were doing, when you were working two, three, four sessions a day. I was just happy to be working. We did the Mamas & the Papas overnight and they became the biggest things in the world. We did the Monterey Pop Festival. Everyone was at that show: Johnny Rivers, Jimi Hendrix, the Who, everybody. I brought the Wrecking Crew up and we were the house band for anybody who may have needed a band.

You just went up and played without rehearsing?
When you got the experience — and we had — I would just tell the guys, ‘Fake it like you’ve done for the rest of your life.’ And we did.

A lot of people don’t know that you weren’t just a session guy; you went on the road as well.
I rarely was on the road, but when John Denver went out for a week, that would be it. He never traveled for months and months. Nobody ever knew. If I left town, my secretary never, ever said that Mr. Blaine is out of town on tour, she’d just say I wasn’t available that day. When you’re known as a studio musician, that’s the top of the rung. But when you’re a road musician, you’re just a little bit under that. Nobody ever knew I went on the road.

Were there Hal Blaine groupies?
There were a few, yeah. I would go on the road sometimes and they would try to tear my clothes off. That was kind of big time.

Did you prefer the studio to being on the road?
I preferred staying at home. I had a beautiful home in the Hollywood Hills and all the toys. Unfortunately I lost them all in a divorce. I had 175 gold and platinum records on my walls, and they all had to be sold when I went through that divorce. I really lost everything.

How did you cope with that?
You just cope with it. That’s the way it was. You pick up the pieces and you start all over again. I could have… many times you’re thinking, ‘I could blow my brains out.’ But that’s not me. I wanted to play music, and I did play music.

Were you ever tempted by the vices of the ’60s?
Never. I never got into the booze, never got into the drugs. Tried marijuana a couple of times—it was terrible.

What was it like working with Phil Spector? Did he ever bring a gun to a session?
The detectives were out here for three hours questioning me. But it was kind of common knowledge that he usually was armed. He was not a drunk at all. There were no drugs involved in those sessions. I never, ever saw a gun. He was fine with us.
Can you compare working with Brian Wilson to Arthur Lee?
I don’t even remember. But I know I did that. I was involved with all those groups. Not only the Beach Boys, but America, Sonny & Cher… I just can’t think of all of them. They’re all listed on that YouTube thing.

Was anyone really nasty to work with?
Never ever. They were happy that I was there to help them make a hit record. Once in a while you’d get a producer who didn’t know what he was doing who’d say, ‘At the beginning of this song I want you to sound like the Beatles, and in the middle of the song try to do what you did on Simon & Garfunkel.’ I’d tell these guys, ‘I’ll be happy to do what you tell me to do, but why don’t you let us make hit records?’

Is it true you played snow chains on ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’?
When Paul played me ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water,’ for some reason I pictured a troubled guy in chains—in a chain gang. So I told them, ‘If you’ll allow me, I’d like to try something that might sound silly.’ They said, ‘Do what you wanna do, man.’ So I went out to my car and got my set of chains and they found a room at the studio at Columbia, an old microphone storage room, and I got a couple of pillows to set my knees on and I sat there for several hours smacking these chains to the floor. Drag on one, smack on two, drag on three, smack on four.

Of the few records you didn’t play on, what song in the rock ‘n’ roll songbook had a drumbeat where you were like, ‘Man, I wish I’d done that!’?
I don’t get inspired really much. I don’t listen to a lot of other drummers. In those days I wasn’t listening at all because I wanted my stuff to be fresh. I purposely never listened to the radio or other hit records because I didn’t want to copy what somebody else was doing.

Is there anyone in the Wrecking Crew you didn’t get along with?
Well, today of course I’m very upset with that goddamn Carol Kaye. She’s just so full of garbage. I saw her at the musicians union and I screamed expletives at the top of my lungs—‘Don’t you come near me, you son of a bitch!’ I laid it on her something terrible. She ran away. I haven’t seen her or talked to her since, and I wouldn’t anyway. She should have been tried for treason.

Did you go to Earl Palmer’s funeral?
Well, let me explain something. Earl had several families. And they all came out of the woodwork when he died because they thought he’d left millions. He had no money when he passed away. The problem is that because we were sort of the cream of the crop of musicians in Hollywood, as far as anyone was concerned we were making millions of dollars. But we weren’t. Nobody was making millions of dollars! We were working day to day, week to week, month to month, like everybody else, paying our mortgage. He was just going to have a quiet burial, which was what Earl wanted. He didn’t want a party, he didn’t want a memorial. I told my daughter the same thing. There will be no parties for me. When it’s over, it’s over. We were lucky enough to do it all, see it all, play it all, have it all, and now when we’re gone, forget it. We’re making room for the next people.

I hear that you still will play with pretty much anyone who asks for $100 an hour. Would you play my party and just go nuts on the drums for an hour?
Well, like if a guy wants me to play in a night club—I don’t want to go working in those smelly old joints. I don’t like that stuff anymore. I’m not a kid anymore. I like the peace and quiet. Once in a while if something special happens, like my buddy Don Randi has something down at the Baked Potato in Hollywood, I’m happy to do that. But I’ve been pounding those drums for well over sixty years now, and enough is enough.

Looking back on your career, what are you most proud of?
I’m supposed to get a doctorate from Berklee in Boston. I’ll be Dr. Hal Blaine, which is kinda far out. And a big scholarship—the companies I endorse, each year they’ll be donating drums and cymbals to people who get the scholarships. It’s an honor.

Will there ever be another Wrecking Crew?
Who knows? Cycles go around and you never know what’s gonna be next.

Interview w/ Indian Jewelry (District Weekly)

PHOTO by DANNY KERSCHEN


My second interview with Indian Jewelry, this time for The District Weekly:

Known for deeply affecting live performances dug deeper by tribal percussion, overdriven amplifiers, strobe lights set for seizure and any number of guest musicians, Texas-based electronic-noise outfit Indian Jewelry is a band that leaves marks—even if they don’t show right away. Latest album Free Gold! (out in May on We Are Free) put new power through their fundamental mechanics — Suicide, Spacemen, “Sister Ray,” maybe Sun Ra in high orbit — and a show last year in their ex-home base Los Angeles had a capacity crowd just one stubbed toe shy of complete feralization. With founding husband-and-wife team Erika Thrasher (keys/guitar/vocals) and Tex Kerschen (keys/guitar/vocals) and new members Mary Sharpe (drums/guitar) and the mysterious Domokos, the band is gearing up for an upcoming coast-to-coast tour before heading to Europe this fall.

Describe what exactly Indian Jewelry does.
Tex Kerschen: We’re mind blowers. We come around to kick the door open.
Erika Thrasher: I just think of it as this wall of sound, with beautiful tones and harmonic sounds and whatnot. I think that you can hear all kinds of things in it. That’s what I like when I go see a band—to be able to hear other things in it so it sounds different every time you hear it. People describe our sound in all different kinds of ways.

One reviewer described the band’s sound as ‘the type of music that you would be greeted with upon your arrival to hell.’
E: People say things like, ‘God, you’re gonna destroy and melt my brain and my ears!’ But I don’t see it that way at all.

You’re known as a bit of a nomadic band.
E: We just spent most of June and July in New York. We try to keep moving around. We’ve been here on and off for the past year. We’ve spent a couple months touring and were just in New York for about a month. We were in Chicago right before that. Houston’s definitely our home base and always has been.

I’d have never guessed you were a Houston native; you don’t have any semblance of a Texas drawl.
E: Houston kind of wipes that out. It’s a major city. Of course, it’ll come on whenever I get together with my grandma.

The band is known to have different special guest musicians join you onstage in the various cities you tour.
T: It’s just like the Wu-Tang Clan—you don’t know if Raekwon’s gonna show up or who’s gonna be on the stage. Economics prohibit us from taking out four or five tour buses for everybody. It helps keep us from being too precious, too.
Does being married add complications or make things easier for the band?
E: It makes things easier because it becomes like joint forces that are working constantly at the same goal. In other bands I’ve been in, it’s been a little less emotionally charged at practices. But being married is definitely an advantage. With scheduling and whatever, we can just move around together, so it makes it a lot easier.

What happens when there’s a disagreement concerning musical differences?
E: That happens all the time! But that’s going to happen with everybody at some point. With us it probably gets a little overdramatic and I do feel kind of sorry for the people who are around us at the time.

What’s next on the horizon?
T: The upcoming tour is three months long, so it’s looming very heavily. But beyond that we’ve got tons of stuff. We’re trying to become more of an integrated services provider, kind of branch off into a bunch of different things—movies, Erika’s fashion line. We’ve got lots of plans. Some are more manifest and others more latent. This time around we don’t have any kind of commercial agenda. We’re just out there to keep the record straight.

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Interview w/ Dr. Dog

Illustration by Darryl Blood

My interview with Scott McMicken of Dr. Dog as published by LA Record:


Dr. Dog is a band out of Philly making music like the Beatles would if they had started recording again in the new millennium. The tightknit outfit has a similarly tightknit group of friends, all of whom share special nicknames within the realm of the band. Scott McMicken (singer/songwriter/guitarist), aka ‘Taxi,’ speaks now with Linda Rapka, proud to now be known in the world of Dr. Dog as ‘Timber.’

Why does every member of Dr. Dog have a nickname starting with the letter T?
Scott McMicken (singer/songwriter/guitarist): You know how whenever you get a bunch of dudes together, everyone has a nickname? It’s kind of in the spirit of that—only it was intentionally made a little bit more obtuse. The key thing has to do with the self-referential, self-indulgent world of Dr. Dog that we involve ourselves with, which is by and large irrelevant to the outside world.

It seems quite a difficult task to limit your nickname to just Ts.
It’s with everything we do. Give yourselves some parameters to work with. That is my obsession. It becomes more a reflection with a sense of honesty and a sense of connection and a sense of purpose that needs no particular type of space to manifest itself. It’s almost easier to see the truth and that aspect of yourself with the more parameters that you give yourself.

What does your nickname ‘Taxi’ mean?
I liked it because when people are like, ‘Oh, I need a taxi’ and a taxi comes around and takes ’em where they gotta go. It’s just kind of like a quiet little helper. The other slight formula that applies to the nickname thing—this is another sort of thing that I see as very prevalent in the Dr. Dog world—you allow yourself a general spirit of openness and playfulness to things, and without being too scathing or self-critical or too full of self-doubt you can let in any kind of absurd idea and then start to add significance or meaning to it whereas it didn’t really come from a point of that. Once we started giving the first couple of people nicknames that start with ‘T,’ we ran with it. Since then I’ve taken the ‘T’ to become a very significant letter and found a lot of ways of making the letter ‘T’ seem significant within the Dr. Dog world. That’s part of the fun in being in control of some processes.

The ‘T’ is actually a tool of empowerment.
This is really the one aspect of my life — this band — that I have total control over. We all do. We can do whatever we want. We can say whatever we want, and we can apply whatever rules we like to the whole thing, and that’s something that I’m really thankful about having in my life. I think that’s why I’m a musician—to sort of give myself that context. But the ‘T’ thing — beyond starting off as an arbitrary sort of thing — the name is supposed to either sound like your name, or then you can sort of pick some word that in a more intangible way represents some aspect of your character or something you might relate with. It’s also just sort of a door prize, like ‘Oh, you like us?’ Or ‘Oh, you wanna join the band? Is this a cool thing for you? Well, we need that, so join us.’

Can I have a nickname?
Absolutely. Being Linda… ‘Tender’ kind of sounds like ‘linder.’ There’s not a whole lot of obvious ones in terms of phonetics. ‘Timber.’ It’s a word obviously used for wood, and they make paper out of wood. And as a journalist you use paper. So that works. Nice. You’re gonna take this with you to your grave.

Do you have a dog?
I think the band name stuck particularly well because we all are dog lovers and have dogs and always have had dogs and dogs are always around. And when you have that kind of respect too, it’s like, why not give a dog a doctorate? My dog—I can’t believe that kind of creature she is. She’s a legitimately inspiring living creature. She deserves a doctorate.

You are often compared to bands of the sixties — especially the Beatles.
It’s not a very conscious thing, but it’s just one layer behind consciousness. I can’t speak for other artists or anything, but I just get the feel that in my extension to other avenues of creativity that I draw from, the one major criteria that I look for in everything that I enjoy comes from some sense of honesty. Some sense of true awareness of the personality behind what I’m witnessing. That’s what brings out aspects of yourself. It’s like this mirror to look into. Fundamentally what I’m looking for is sort of the influencelessness of what I like. However, the aesthetics that go into everything in people’s choices with any parameters, especially with pop music—it’s like you’ve got that 4/4 beat, the 3/4 beat, you’ve got about three minutes and 10 instruments to choose from—obviously the influences come into large play with people’s aesthetic choices and sensibilities and of course what people choose to gravitate toward says a lot about who they are. You draw from the things you connect with most, so influences I find to be as telling and informative about a person as the honesty and originality that they put forth from their heart. So it is just kind of one layer back. Especially in this day and age everything is this stew, and any spoonful can contain any ten different ingredients and it’s all really delicious. That’s just the kind of world we live in. Specifically with this record I was definitely more conscious of trying to piece together elements in my head that I wanted to add to this—in part because going into the record there wasn’t a really strong vision. Within about a week the vision was just like—bursting. In true spirit of the way we work, we just start throwing stuff out and then start reacting to it, and then when we find what works, we inject it with as much meaning and significance as we possibly can. A lot of the inspiriation for the record for me is from us being the engineers and producers of our own record, and I wanted to challenge myself in that side of things. We’ve always recorded with very minimal means because we’ve never really had a whole lot of money or equipment. But slowly, slowly, slowly, as we started borrowing from people, we put together a studio that I felt like could do whatever it was we wanted to do—whatever that may be. I really just wanted to try to bridge the gap sonically. I wanted to try to make a record that sounded like if you go back in time and take the minds out of a studio in 1963 and bring them into a contemporary studio, so that you still had the same fundamental sensibilities and sensitivity and maturity that existed much more naturally in those days because of those limitations—and this again comes back to the value and importance of limitations—but with the technology now. It’s not so much I want to make a record that sounds like it was made in 1963, but I wanted to make a record that sounded like people who were making good records in 1963 would be making now if they were still making records.

What were you most hoping to accomplish with the record?
I wanted to make music that was dance music. But my immediate association with dance music is something that I really don’t appreciate at all. Not club scene, not like indie rock with a disco beat or anything like that, but kind of pulse… dance music not so much for the function of dancing but more as like its really reliable foundations. You get that beat going and in a few seconds you’ve established that this is the place to be and nothing is really going to change all that much. Here you are in the world of this song and there’s that reliable current about it, which is ultimately what makes good dance music. You can sort of let go for a minute, give in to the music, and turn your mind off a little bit. That’s the importance of mindlessness with certain music. It’s for the mind, but it’s for the body, and like David Byrne said, it hits the body way before it hits the mind. That’s the first experience of music, and then beyond that your mind sort of kicks in and attaches it with your emotional experiences or whatever else you associate with the sounds you’re hearing. So I wanted that really steady, steady, steady unchanging beat, but I wanted to combine that not with something that was full of the dancehall, but with something that was very organic and rural and very dissociated from any social implications of dance music. I just pictured being this band that was in the middle. A combination of something very earthbound with something very…. like plastic and dirt together or something. All my sensibilities—just trying to make a little puzzle where you can find the pieces to make a picture. That rural kind of visceral—like this-is-humanity-at-its-essence kind of pop music for me is Tom Waits. The best dance music to me to this day is still forty years old—Motown and oldies and R&B music is the most concise and intelligent and well-stated pop music that I can really find. Those two things really don’t have a ton to do with one another, but in my head I wanted to try and marry my feelings about those things to an extent. I’m not sure I necessarily did it but it was a good aesthetic palette to draw from and switch on and off depending on the moment. It’s definitely something that as a band we’ll try to pursue more.

What do you like about the new record?
Because of the intangible life that the whole thing took on—the parallels that it started to draw between what was going on in my head in the studio to what I am as a man in my life, who I am to my girlfriend, to my best friend, who I am to this neighborhood I live in, or this state or this country or to my family, all those sort of larger things that go on in life—it all just came into one. Everything seemed to be relating in the same ways, and that’s another reason why I’m really happy with the outcome of this album. Because not only do I now have an album that I’m really proud of for us as a band, but I feel as though it definitely helped me to be a better person in a way. And a smarter person. None of it’s this epic scale—like overnight shift in perspective or anything. It’s all kind of subtle things. But it’s because of the subtlety that I trust it more because I know that nothing happens overnight. Not for a band, and not for a human being. To feel those small few changes is just a good sign that you’re kind of growing up a little bit. I definitely feel like the album gave me a little kick out of that. And I didn’t expect that. I don’t expect that out of being in a band necessarily. I do expect it being a songwriter. I don’t have those kind of high standards. I don’t need it to fulfill me on this existential level or anything. It’s just super fun. So for that to happen I’m just really thankful.

One of your former band members went off to become a lawyer. Was there ever a question of whether or not music was the right pursuit for anyone else in the band?
Those are the ones that are not in the band anymore. Those of us who are still in the band—we never had a difficult time confronting that fact. The five of us that are in the band now are pretty secure and know why it is we do this and that will overshadow some of the sacrifices that you make to do it. Because ultimately it’s your dream come true.

Interview w/ Colin Blunstone (the Zombies)

My interview with Colin Blunstone of the Zombies as published by LA Record:


By the time the Zombies’ 1968 song ‘Time of the Season’ became a staggeringly huge radio hit, the band had already broken up. In March, surviving founding members Colin Blunstone (vocals), Rod Argent (keys), Chris White (bass) and Hugh Grundy (drums) celebrated the 40th anniversary of the their only proper LP, "Odessey and Oracle" — now regarded by critics and music fans alike as one of the best albums of all time — with a double-disc live recording. Blunstone speaks now with Linda Rapka.

The Zombies just released the double-CD "Odessey and Oracle: 40th Anniversary Live Concert." How’d the idea of performing the entire album come about?
We realized it was forty years since the album was released, and it just seemed a good idea to celebrate the anniversary. We did three nights and all sold out, so we thought it also might be a good idea to record it. We DVD’d it as well. The CD has just come out in the UK. The DVD will be a bit later.

What’s it like to have respected peers and droves of fans sell out three nights of live performances for an album initially regarded as a failure?
It’s intriguing, isn’t it? First of all, it’s just very exiting. Whenever an album gets that kind of a response — even when you have to wait quite a long time! — it’s exciting; it makes you feel like your work has some worth. In some ways it’s intensified because it’s taken such a long time. It kind of validates what we were doing, like, ‘Yeah, we were on to something!’ At the time I really felt it was a strong album. I think that’s probably part of the reason the band finished — we’d only released one or two singles, but they went nowhere, and that was that. The band did finish before the album was even released. That does seem a bit premature. Maybe we should have waited a bit longer.

What do you think would have happened had the band not split?
Going on from a scene of ‘what if,’ it does intrigue me sometimes because I felt that at that time Rod and Chris were at the height of their songwriting capabilities. I would have been intrigued to have seen what we could have done next. But it doesn’t make any sense to think like that really. I think it makes much more sense to concentrate on what’s going on at the moment.

Is it true that up until just recently you were unaware ‘Odyssey’ was spelled wrong on the album?
I knew it was spelled wrong, but I thought it was spelled wrong on purpose. The cover was printed by an artist called Terry Quirk. We had a release date and the printing presses were ready to go with the artwork when suddenly he realized he’d spelled it wrong. Obviously, it wasn’t done on the computer in the ‘60s; it was a painting. Rod Argent and Chris White decided to concoct a story about how it was done on purpose, a play on the word ‘ode.’ They decided they would even tell the other members of the band this so it would sound more authentic. So I believed it until two or three years ago when I was doing a radio interview with Rod and he said it was a mistake and they tried to cover it up. I thought, ‘I don’t believe you’ve kept that secret for about 37 years!’ I thought it was really funny. Terry Quirk’s a wonderful artist, but he’s not a very good speller.

In the sixties "Odessey and Oracle" went virtually unrecognized until an entire year after its release, when ‘Time of the Season’ became a massive radio hit in the States—after the band had already broken up. After this success, why didn’t the band regroup?
Everybody had decided that it was time to move on and try new projects. Once we had split Rod and Chris were really committed to their new band Argent, and although the Zombies did have that huge hit ‘Time of the Season’ and we were offered a lot of money to come to the States and tour, it was never even a conversation. We were all involved in new projects. Everyone thought the time had passed.

There’s talk that the Zombies may do some live performances of "Odessey" here.
All I can say is that discussions are ongoing. There’s also talk of us doing a few more nights in the U.K. as well next year. It’s just because it was so successful and there’s a demand. To start with, we were only thinking of doing one night, and it spread to three. It’s not something that we really ever thought about touring in the full sense, but we’ve been offered a very big venue in London and four other dates around the country, and I would imagine that if we did it in the U.S., it would only five or six concerts at the most.

You once said your dream band would be made up of all bass players. Who would be in this ultimate bass lover’s band?
I don’t remember saying that! But I’m a huge fan of Sting so I’d expect to pick him if he wouldn’t mind being in my band.

Meet 'The Wrecking Crew' - interview w/ Denny Tedesco

My interview as published in the June 2008 issue of the Overture, official publication of Professional Musicians, Local 47.


L.A. Studio Musicians of the '60s Profiled in New Documentary

Session players behind Frank Sinatra, the Beach Boys, Phil Spector's 'Wall of Sound' featured in Denny Tedesco film

by Linda Rapka, Overture Managing Editor


You may not know their names, but there's no mistaking their music.

The soundtrack of the late 1950s and 1960s was largely recorded by a group of Los Angeles studio musicians known as the Wrecking Crew. The Beach Boys, Frank and Nancy Sinatra, Sonny and Cher, Jan & Dean, Elvis Presley, the Monkees, Gary Lewis and the Playboys, the Mamas & the Papas, Simon and Garfunkel, the Tijuana Brass, Ricky Nelson, Johnny Rivers, and even Alvin and the Chipmunks are but a small few of the hundreds of popular artists for whom the Crew recorded, though more often than not were left uncredited on the album sleeve.

Typically knocking out several tracks in a single three-hour session, the musicians – who also comprised Phil Spector's famed Wall of Sound – played on anything from rock tunes to TV and film scores to jazz arrangements and even cartoon soundtracks, able to churn out any style of music with unmatched skill. Hopping from studio to studio, the musicians during their heyday sometimes played up to four dates per day.

Denny Tedesco, son of one of the most recorded guitarist in history, late Wrecking Crew member Tommy Tedesco, tells the surprisingly little-known tale of this group of musicians who recorded the unmistakable soundtrack of the '60s in his documentary, "The Wrecking Crew." He speaks about his labor of love and the film's upcoming L.A. premiere.

How did these musicians come to be known as "The Wrecking Crew"?
It's become something of folklore almost. The legend goes they were called the Wrecking Crew 'cause the older guys, the traditional studio guys from the '40s and '50s, weren't taking the rock dates 'cause it was beneath them, so they said these guys were gonna wreck the business.

The Wrecking Crew is an unparalleled phenomenon in recording history. How did this one group of musicians come to play so many different sessions together?
When they're breaking in the early '50s and early '60s, rock 'n' roll was still in its infancy, as were recording techniques. You didn't have ProTools, DVs, CD players, computers to help you learn how to play music or even record music. In those days you had to be all in one room together as a band, together 'til the end, everybody flawless.

What inspired you to make the film?
I started the documentary when I knew my father was going to pass away, in 1995, when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I knew he didn't have much time and I figured we've already lost a lot of these musicians – Ray Pohlman was gone, Steve Douglas was gone. I felt if I don't record this, nobody's going to. There were so many stories I used to hear, the laughter from all these musicians. It was always fun listening to these guys. So I decided I'd put together a roundtable discussion to start things off, and in 1996 brought together Carol Kaye, Hal Blaine, my father and Plas Johnson. I was influenced by "Broadway Danny Rose," the Woody Allen movie where they sit around that coffee shop and just talk about Danny Rose. It was like you were a voyeur to this conversation, and that's what I wanted this to be. Unfortunately my father passed away before he saw anything cut.

When was the main period of recording for the Crew?
It was a time period from the late '50s early '60s to almost the late '60s, where things started turning in a different direction. Group albums became popular at that time, so now you didn't want so many studio musicians on some of these albums. The highlight year for record dates was probably 1967 or '68 in that area. There were 400 dates, contracts that we could find. If you take weekends and holidays off, you must be doing three or four dates a day.

How did you get the rights to the music?
The record companies have been amazing. Warner Bros. was one of the companies I first met, and they said, "We're not gonna mess with you. It's not a documentary about a chicken coop. It's about our business and these people. We want this to be out there." This isn't like a kiss-and-tell book, this is a positive look at something that is not always so positive.

How did you line up the other interviews?
One of the first star talents to come on board was Cher. She was 16 when she worked with these guys as a backup singer for Phil Spector's groups. She knew them as the older guys – they were all in their late 20s and 30s, and she was just a kid. Then Dick Clark gave me an interview. Then I got Julius Wechter and Lew McCreary. Julius was a great percussion player and Lew was a great trombonist. That was a rush in time because I knew Julius was sick. I didn't know Lou was sick. They both passed away about six months later.

If someone has a favorite song from the '60s, chances are good they'll hear it in this film.
It's probably one of the biggest soundtracks in movies because there are so many songs. When putting it together I would meet with people – I won't mention names – but someone came up with the idea that since there were so many songs, we should get "sound-alikes." I said, are you kidding?! The whole point is about the sound. These people were the sound! The other thing people would say was, "Well could you narrow it down to 20 songs?" I said no. You don't have the music, you don't have the doc, 'cause it's really about the quantity of music this group of people in Los Angeles at the time did. They went from Sinatra to the Chipmunks, from Zappa to the Beach Boys – it was all over the place. They didn't have technically "a sound." They could play with anybody.

How did the musicians feel about being largely uncredited on the several hit records they played on?
These guys didn't complain. They weren't whiners. They enjoyed what they did. They got paid for what they did. My father used to tell his students, "You pick up the guitar because you love to play guitar. You don't start because you want to make a living of it. If you get paid for it, it's a bonus. If you make a living at it, you're in a small minority – congratulations."

With documentaries like "Standing in the Shadows of Motown," it seems like there's a strong public interest in what goes on behind the scenes.
I was thrilled that it came out, but I was more thrilled that it was successful, because it's basically the same kind of behind-the-scenes story. Mine's a different slant on it, but it does show that the public is interested and wants to know. There is a curtain, and us as humans it's natural that we want to learn something new.

What was it like to be growing up, hearing all these songs on the radio and knowing that was your dad playing on most of them?
Most of the time I never knew it was my dad on the radio. These guys were doing three to four dates a day, they didn't even know they were on some of these songs! There's certain songs, like the Beach Boys where you know Hal was playing all the time, but my father wouldn't know. You figure these guys did two, three, four dates a day for a while, and sometimes the groups weren't there, it was just laying down the tracks. Don't forget, there were hundreds of hits, but there were thousands of bombs.

I didn't realize the impact he and his friends were making. I don't think they had an idea of the impact of what was going to happen 40, 50 years later, the fact that people are still listening to these songs. When you go 50 years before them in 1960, you're talking 1910. Were they listening to songs from 1910? It never happened.

How was it trying to find a balance telling your father's story and the story of the Wrecking Crew as a whole?
It was a big problem. When I started the film, I was never going to focus on my father, and I surely wasn't going to be part of this. It was about this group of musicians. A friend of mine looked at our first 30-minute cut a few years ago and said, 'It's a History Channel documentary.' That killed me. But he was right. The way I made that transition was by going, Here's a story about my father and his extended family, the Wrecking Crew. Because you can't have one and not the other.
It's about having the story and not just the facts, which is what you did with this film.

I think unconsciously I was trying not to let go. I didn't want Dad to leave and this was my way of holding on.

The film took 12 years to complete.
If I'd finished this in two years, five years or eight years, even 10, it would not have been as good because not just what I got later, but understanding the story more.

The film has been a success at festival screenings earlier this year.
We started at South by Southwest (SXSW) and it coincided with the music festival.Then we were invited to Nashville as the closing film. That was an honor in itself, but then we sold out two screens before the festival even opened, the first time in the history of the festival. We had the greatest time. All these Nashville greats like guitarist Brett Mason as well as transplants like drummer Ed Green, and bassist Bob Babbitt from the Funk Brothers, were there. As well as another guitar hero of mine, Peter Frampton. They were so enthusiastic and supportive, it was amazing. Some of the musicians were saying, "I've gotta have my kids see this." And that's a thrill.

Don Randi, who's been very supportive, came out to play after the festival with Al Kooper, Mike Deasy, Lyle Ritz and Al Delory. They played some of the hits that they recorded on, and the audience went nuts! There were probably about 700 people in the room.

What I've noticed about the film is the fact its working on two levels. Musicians understand it from the inside. They understand what it takes to be a musician, and you've got the music lovers, who are blown away – "Wow, that's what happened?!"

Where was the very first public screening?
There was an event at the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame and they asked if come down with Hal Blaine, so we showed a 30 minute teaser. It was a packed audience of 150 people, and they gave us a standing ovation. It was a great feeling of love in the room. The MC started asking Hal questions, and Hal started crying. I thought he was joking, but I looked behind his sunglasses and saw tears. Hal said, 'When I saw all my friends up there, it brought back a lot of memories to me.' Which is a sweet, beautiful comment. So I felt, OK, if I made Hal happy and if I could make these musicians happy by telling the truth, then I've done my job. They were honest with me, so I wanted to be sure I was honest to them with this story.

It was quite the labor of love.
I used to hate that term. But it's true. I had to finance it myself. It might have taken 12 years to actually make it, but it took a lifetime to understand it.


The Los Angeles premiere of "The Wrecking Crew" will take place during Grand Performances at a free outdoor screening at California Plaza in downtown L.A. Saturday, June 28 at 8 p.m. For more information about the documentary and the musicians, visit www.wreckingcrew.tv.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

A few songs recorded by the Wrecking Crew:

The 5th Dimension
"Let the Sunshine In/Aquarius"
"Stoned Soul Picnic"
"Up-Up and Away"
"One Less Bell to Answer"

The Association
"Windy"
"Never My Love"

The Beach Boys
"California Girls"
"Don't Worry Baby"
"Fun Fun Fun"
"God Only Knows"
"Good Vibrations"
"I Get Around"
"Sloop John B"

The Byrds
"Mr. Tamborine Man"

Glen Campbell
"By the Time I Get to Phoenix"
"Gentle on My Mind"
"Wichita Lineman"

Captain & Tennille
"Love Will Keep Us Together"

The Carpenters
"Close to You"
"We've Only Just Begun"

Cher
"Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves"
"Half-Breed"

The Chipmunks
"Chipmunks Theme"

Nat King Cole
"Ramblin' Rose"

Sam Cooke
"Twistin' the Night Away"
"You Send Me"

The Crystals
"Then He Kissed Me"
"Da Doo Ron Ron"
"He's a Rebel"

Bobby Day
"Rockin' Robin"

Defenders
"Taco Wagon"

Shelly Fabares
"Johnny Angel"

Richard Harris
"MacArthur Park"

Jan & Dean
"Dead Man's Curve
Surf City"
"Little Old Lady (From Pasadena)"
"Balboa Blue"

Gary Lewis and the Playboys
"Everybody Loves a Clown"
"Sure Gonna Miss Her"
"This Diamond Ring"

Barry McGuire
"Eve of Destruction"

The Mamas & the Papas
"California Dreamin'"
"Dedicated to the One I Love"
"Monday, Monday"

Henry Mancini
"The Pink Panther Theme"

The Marketts
"Out of Limits"
"Surfer's Stomp"

Dean Martin
"Everybody Loves Somebody"

Scott McKenzie
"San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)"

The Monkees
"Mary Mary"

Chris Montez
"Let's Dance"

Ricky Nelson
"Fools Rush In"

Wayne Newton
"Danke Schoen"

Jack Nitzsche
"The Lonely Surfer"

Harry Nilsson
"Everybody's Talkin'"

The Partridge Family
"Come on Get Happy"

Elvis Presley
"A Little Less Conversation"
"Viva Las Vegas"

Paul Revere & the Raiders
"Indian Reservation"

The Righteous Brothers
"Unchained Melody"
"You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'"

Rip Chords
"Hey Little Cobra"

Johnny Rivers
"Poor Side of Town"

Tommy Roe
"Dizzy"

The Ronnetts
"Be My Baby"
"I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus"

Routers
"Let's Go"

The Sandpipers
"Guantanamera"

Lalo Schifrin
"Mission: Impossible"

Simon and Garfunkel
"Mrs. Robinson"

Frank Sinatra
"Strangers in the Night"
"That's Life"

Nancy Sinatra
"These Boots are Made for Walkin'"
"Drummer Man"

Sonny and Cher
"The Beat Goes On"
"I Got You Babe"

T-Bones
"No Matter What Shape (Your Stomach's In)"

Nino Tempo & April Stevens
"Deep Purple"

The Tijuana Brass
"The Lonely Bull"
"Spanish Flea"
"Taste of Honey"
"Whipped Cream"
"Zorba the Greek"

Ike and Tina Turner
"River Deep Mountain High"

Ritchie Valens
"Donna"

Bobby Vee
"The Night Has a Thousand Eyes"

The Ventures
"Hawaii 5-O"

Mason Williams
"Classical Gas"

Roger Williams
"Born Free"


* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Wrecking Crew & Friends

Drums/Percussion
Hal Blaine
Jim Gordon
Johnny Guerin*
Earl Palmer
Jessie Sailes
Ed "Sharky" Hall*

Percussion
Frank Capp
Gary Coleman
Gene Estes*
Victor Feldman*
Emil Richards
Milton Holland*
Julius Wechter*

Guitar
Al Casey*
Dennis Budimir
Billy Strange
James Burton
Glen Campbell
Mike Deasy
Barney Kessel*
Jerry Cole
Lou Morell*
Don Peake
Bill Pitman
Louie Shelton
Tommy Tedesco*
Howard Roberts*
Ben Benay*
David Cohen

Bass
Jimmy Bond
Chuck Berghofer
Carol Kaye
Larry Knechtel
Joe Osborn
Ray Pohlman*
Lyle Ritz
Bob West*
Arthur Wright

Piano
Leon Russell
Larry Knechtel
Al DeLory
Don Randi
Ray Johnson
Lincoln Mayorga
Mike Melvoin
Mike Rubini

Sax/Horns
Gene Cipriano
Steve Douglas*
Jim Horn
Bill Green*
Plas Johnson
Jackie Kelso
Jay Migliori*
Nino Tempo

Trombone
Louis Blackburn*
Lew McCreary*

Trumpet
Ollie Mitchell
Tony Terran
Roy Caton
Bill Peterson

* deceased member

Interview w/ Clinic - "More of a Nunny State"

My interview with Ade Blackburn of CLINIC as published in LA Record:


With the band's fifth full-length release, "Do It!" [Domino], Liverpudlian quartet Clinic – whose dark, avant garage-tinged rock is visually accentuated by the band’s penchant for adorning surgical masks and scrubs – the band has stopped trying to induce fear, opting instead for spreading Beach Boy-like love with a high-energy, booty-shaking summer LP. On the heel of Clinic's final European date before heading across the pond, Ade Blackburn (keys/melodica/vocals) spoke from Sheffield to Linda Rapka.

What came first – the band name or the surgical masks and scrubs?
The band name. We had that for quite a while. With the San Francisco bands Crime and the Residents, I like the way there was a visual side to what they did, but it wasn't something too serious. It was like a tacky pun on the band name. I liked something a bit more ridiculous like that.

Do you think that distracts the audience from the music or in a way makes them focus more on the music?
It kind of makes you think of the thing as a whole rather than as individuals – I've never liked the idea that you've got the lead singer out front, and it's a standard rock band. I don't think the image is an essential element, it’s more of an addition to it – it's just something else visually there. It wouldn't really make too much difference whether you played in costume or not, the main thing is still the music.

The last time I saw you live you weren't wearing your regular gear – you looked like monks or Freemasons or something.
That must have been the brown outfits with the stovepipe hats. It was kind of a mixture of a few things. I like that kind of Masonic bit of a twist to it. I like the idea that you're meant to be secretive but you’re playing in front of people, so it's a contradiction.

You guys have been offered by record labels to have a "band stylist."
I just thought that would be quite an enjoyable thing to do yourself.

Any new surprising outfits for the next tour?
Yeah, we've got some 'cause we thought this was a more brighter, almost tropical LP so we got Hawaiian shirts, which is a new addition. It's a bit of an homage to the Beach Boys.

The title of the new album, "Do It!", is pretty suggestive.
It was kind of meant to be humorous, something cheeky. I like the way you can read quite a few different things into it, and obviously the suggestive one is quite a good one. I think the main thing with it was, I don't know if you remember there was a prankster political movement in the '60s called The Yippies...

The Youth International Party – Abbie Hoffman, Paul Krassner...
Yeah. One of their slogans is "Do It!" which was all-encompassing, intensive, trying to get people not to be apathetic with politics. It just is, I suppose, quite funny now when people will just take things, whatever is pushed on them, so I thought it was a kind of sly reference to a time when people would stand up for things more. Here in the U.K. it's become more of a "nunny" state where you can't breathe almost without there being some petty law being cut down. Basically people's civil liberties are disappearing. I think it's happening everywhere.

The new album sounds more garage-rocky than previous releases. It reminds me of a lot of the raw '60s garage tunes on Nuggets.
Something which I really like about those kinds of records is that there's a lot of humor, but not in a working sense, something where it's more playful.

All your stuff is experimental and abstract, but also really danceable at the same time. It sounds like you think a lot about the enjoyment of the audience.
That's why we sort of don't have self-indulgent, really long instrumental pieces. No guitar solos! "Do It!" was really a fun album for us to record. Now so much music seems really serious and a bit too earnest.

What's your impression of L.A. audiences?
Los Angeles has actually been, I'd say, the best place each time when we play in America, which I suppose is a cliché thing to say, but the people have always been really supportive with us. The Troubadour is an ideal venue for us as well.

I read an interview with Brian where he said the "Walking With Thee" LP was "like a horror film ... trying to induce fear." What is "Do It!" trying to induce?
We saw it as sort of a summer album. I think if anything it's just something to sit back and enjoy. It's definitely not meant to have any scary side to it.

What made you decide to produce this one yourself when previous albums have been produced by other people?
If you want to sort of experiment and try for other things, if you're in a conventional studio you're always aware of time, so you're more likely to play it safe. Because we wanted to mess around with sounds, it meant if something didn't work out than it didn't matter at all, you know, so you gave yourself the luxury of being able to make a lot of mistakes or go down blind alleys but then it didn’t matter. It could be a good thing. Something that you thought had no potential could turn out to be, which happened with one thing, you put more kind of oddball things right next to each other.

Clinic always uses really interesting instruments – the melodica, and that fantastic sounding one on "Walking With Thee."
Oh yeah, the philicorda. It's an organ keyboard. It's just something that we’ve always been on the lookout for, it's something that takes it outside of a standard guitar band. Things like that we found at sales in Liverpool, as you say garage sales and that. I think a lot of people aren't interested in it so you can pick things up like that really, really cheaply as well. It's creative to put songs together but I think it's creative as well finding different instruments. If you're not used to playing an instrument sometimes you can come up with melody ideas more so than with the ones technically you're really proficient. None of us has ever been interested in taking lessons. I think it's how it combines as a whole, you know, rather than if you can play an instrument with too much reference or if you went to school and how fast you can play notes.

That rings especially here in Los Angeles, the land of Musicians Institute graduates.
Yeah, it's like that with 10-minute guitar solos, isn't it? I mean, if you go into guitar shops you can hear them whenever you feel like it.

Does the band still record only analog?
Yeah. This is the second album we've recorded ourselves and it was all going onto tape and we used kind of vintage effects and equipment and everything. I suppose it's a way you can get sounds which aren't typical of what's happening now. I think it just makes it sound natural as well. I think so many things now are so manipulated in studios that it comes out sounding really plastic and artificial. It seems to me the most exciting when you hear something – is where you can imagine where it's made by humans, and actually played in a room.

You guys are big fans of free jazz, sixties garage, and also punk – you've got a lot of eclectic influences from all over the place...
I've always listened to music from all kinds of different genres. You get really good things in each genre, so with your influences there's no reason to limit yourself to one particular style.

What's up next for the band?
The next thing we do will probably be almost like Glen Campbell. More '70s. Very light.

Are there any new bands within the last couple of years that you're into?
There's a kind of newish band from Liverpool called Mogstar, they've been touring with Portishead. They're really quite inventive, almost like space rock but with a kind of Liverpool influence as well.

I'm sure you all have quite extensive record collections. Any gems you particularly love?
I always forget what I've got. I think the last couple of CDs that I've bought was a Swell Maps CD. I think they're underrated. I think they had quite a strong sense of pop as well in what they did. The other thing was Charlie Mingus, "Black Saint and the Sinner Lady," I thought that was really good. But it's getting harder to buy records now.

You must scour record shops when on tour.
That's what we do a lot of the time, going to record shops. You've got Rhino in Los Angeles and Amoeba in San Francisco. There are some really good indie shops in America.

How would you describe your sound?
When making music I suppose you're always trying to make it so it's hard to categorize, so I don’t think I could sum it up 'cause that's the opposite of how I look at it. I write the melodies and the lyrics, but as a band then we would say add the musical parts and the rhythms to that, so it's still quite wide open from even though there are a lot of songs that just go over one chord, it's really open to what rhythms you can attach to it. It's collaborative but it's got a base to it with the melody.

Clinic has been together for about 10 years.
Yeah. That's quite unusual nowadays, isn't it? The equivalent of the seven-year itch of playing in a band is probably when you do your third album, so if you get past that point then everyone is aware of everybody else's strong points or foibles and quirks, so I think everyone knows when to give each other space or everyone takes different roles on within it. That's how you keep it fresh without being claustrophobic.

All of your records seem to draw from a particular influence you've immersed yourselves in at the time.
That goes back to what we were talking about using new instruments for each album. That way it's always, you're always aiming to do something different each time.

I hear you're a fan of my favorite author, Richard Brautigan, who unfortunately nobody else seems to know of.
I like Richard Brautigan because that had a real sense of the ridiculous to it. He'd start a paragraph and it'd be really everyday, very normal and suddenly it'd switch into something completely surreal. I like the sort of childlike view that he tends to write from. To me I think a straightforward sort of narrative lyric on the second or third listen can start to wear a bit thin, but I think if you’ve got something that's more implied or you can read something else into it, I think that can give it more longevity.

Any other influences? Films?
Probably my favorite director, who's not really fit into any art typecast, would be Woody Allen, just cause I think again where it's got humor in it, it really nails some kind of strong kind of philosophical points and observations with relationships. I just think he's so intelligent.

What's your one guilty pleasure?
Top Noodles. Do you have Top Noodles in America?

Top Ramen noodles?
Yeah. They're absolute rubbish.

CLINIC WITH SHEARWATER ON TUE., MAY 20, AT THE TROUBADOUR, 9018 SANTA MONICA BLVD., WEST HOLLYWOOD. 8 PM / $20 / ALL AGES. TROUBADOUR.COM. DO IT! IS OUT NOW ON DOMINO. VISIT CLINIC AT CLINICVOOT.ORG.