When I was a kid, growing up in a house with Cat
Stevens, Neil Diamond, and Simon and Garfunkel, the first time I ever heard
Kiss's "Detroit Rock City," it was a moment of musical epiphany. It
was just so vicious, aggressive and mean. It changed the way I listened to
music. I've had a few minor epiphany's since then, when you come across a band
that just brings something new and revolutionary to your ears.
What have been your musical epiphany moments?
I grew up in a house in the 60s where music was what you
sang along to on Sunday. So my very first experience of rock and roll was an
epiphany: The Monkees.
Somewhat later, a friend and I crept into his big brother’s
room and listened to a record by a black guy and two white guys who all had the
same hairdo (Hendrix) and a white record with a yellow banana on it that had
been peeled off a bit to reveal a pink banana (Velvet Underground), until we
got so scared we had to turn it off; we were 12 years old, and had never heard
anything remotely like that. That experience has stayed with me: the visceral
life-and-death nature of powerful music.
The first time a friend played Gong’s “Radio Gnome
Invisible” trilogy for me, I was blown away. It was “music as psychedelic
experience”, and not “music to be played in the background to a psychedelic
experience”.
I remember hearing Patti Smith for the first time, and being
impressed with how lyrics could be an expressive instrument in the mix and not
just the words to the music. And the beautiful minimalism of the first Wire LP
when it came out.
Laurie Anderson’s “Mr Heartbreak” tour was an amazing
multimedia event, and influenced my diving into video as a live performance
component.
In 1985, I lived in NYC that summer and saw Butthole Surfers
several times, and Einstürzende Neubauten, and those shows had a profound
impact on me.
And then the first time I saw Acid Mothers
Temple, and Boris. Not on
the same bill, but both of them a revolution!
There are more, but those are the ones that come to mind
right now.
Talk to us about the song-writing process for you.
What comes first, the idea? A riff? The lyrics? How does it all fall into
place?
For me, it almost always begins with the title. If it’s
working, everything else is just filling in the blanks (and trying to keep
up!). I will generally feel a riff of some kind and the lyrics just show up.
If it doesn’t all happen at once, then I’ll at least have
some fragments ready for the next go around.
Who has influenced you the most?
In addition to the above mentioned artists (minus The
Monkees): Can, Zappa, Bowie, Eno, Robert Johnson. Ok, and The Beatles, from
about Revolver on.
Where do you look for continuing inspiration? New
ideas, new motivation?
Shamanism, mythology, visual art, literature/science
fiction, history, technology, politics, driving...
Where'd the band name come from?
I was thinking about the concept of an evil twin, and
wondering what it would be like if your evil twin had an evil twin. That would
make it your evil triplet, right?
Come on, share with us a couple of your great, Spinal
Tap, rock and roll moments?
I’m not sure what you mean by “Spinal Tap” - we haven’t ever
really performed in a miniature version of Stonehenge
or anything.
But I’ll tell you some interesting highlights from my life:
My punk rock band Terminal Mind opened for Iggy Pop at a
large Austin
venue called Armadillo World Headquarters in 1980.
The first time my industrial psyche band Miracle Room played
in Morgantown, WV in 1988, a bunch of hippies came down
into town on acid to see what was happening, and we blew their minds. So every
time we came back through town, they would always make sure there was a crowd
there that was “prepped”. When we were doing our tour in 1991, we played there
to a full house, and we had a full-on self-controlled light show going and
everything. And at the end of the set, we hit the last note and I turned of the
strobe lights and there was a short decaying echo. I said, “Thank you, good
night.” And the crowd just stared at us. And kept staring. We finally left the
stage and walked through the crowd, who were still staring at the stage, to the
bar and were getting drinks when some people started slowly clapping and
looking around! Best. Response. Ever.
We also did a show in Barcelona
that year at a place called KGB. A big empty warehouse space with a bar. We
were doing a song in which I looped and played harmonica against a heavy drum
beat. In the middle of the song, the power went out; lights, sound, everything.
I kept playing the harmonica and the drummer kept going with me until they
found a fuse and the power came back on, and then we finished the song.
The recording of these Evil Triplet records has been a
standout experience. Sonic Ranch is an amazing place: world class equipment and
engineers, secluded in the desert. We’ve had a great time there!
Tell us about playing live and the live experience for
you and for your fans?
See the answer above!
I’m all about attempting to create situations in which a
group of people can encounter a collective experience of the ineffable.
What makes a great song?
I have a great respect for the art of song craft, but I feel
like the word “story” is getting thrown around WAY too much these days as a
signifier of what a song should be. The songs that live for me are the ones
that aren’t “about” something so much as drawing out the “aboutness” of the
listener. Becoming a timeless part of the “story” (if you will) of the
listener.
That’s why I love working with layers of sound - to get past
what the song is about in order to get to what it means.
Any final comments or thoughts you'd like to share
with our readers, the waveriders?
My comments are only temporary, and thoughts are never
final. We’ll see you all on the journey. Have a nice trip.
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