WEDDING PRESENT’S DAVID GEDGE ENTERS THE ‘BIZARRO’ WORLD

Interviews,
This article originally appeared in Aquarian Weekly March ’10.
 
 
During 2007, David Gedge joined the minions of semi-famous indie rock artists (Pixies, Primal Scream, and The Cult) re-creating classic albums in a live setting for a generation once removed. When his renowned British band, the Wedding Present, celebrated the 20th anniversary of their stunning post-punk debut, George Best, the Leeds-based crew gained an audience of younger heads poised to discover one of the most resilient rock troupes in the last quarter century.
 
 
Still going strong accruing large cult status in America, these legendary English rockers have now decided to revive their more melodic, less brazen second album, ‘89s enthusiastic breakthrough, Bizarro, with local shows at Maxwells in Hoboken (April 10th) and Manhattan’s Bowery Ballroom (April 11).
 
  A pre-grunge guiding light one small step below the Pixies, the Wedding Present’s exuberant chain-like guitar-jangled drum-beaten attack could be seen as a natural progression from The Fall’s unbridled punk-drunk frenetic intensity. Fronted by Manchester-raised Gedge, whose half-spoken Brit-accented baritone gurgle hurls idiosyncratic inflections, these amazing three-chord wonders grew into a more emotionally expressive outfit over the course of ‘91s moodier Steve Albini-produced Seamonster and two eclectic Hit Parade sets (collecting all their double-sided ’91 singles in order).

Perhaps taking lessons learned from the Pixies, the Wedding Present steadily developed a bouncier pop step and heightened insouciant flare to hedge against the elevated lovesick melancholia their next few full length recordings fully exposed. Seamonsters’ dissonant sonic rumble, “Lovenest,” and murkily feedback-drenched flange, “Carolyn” (plus Hit Parade’s scoffed-up revving of the Monkees’ breezy “Pleasant Valley Sunday”) also deployed a headier grunge-informed pounce.

“Actually, Seamonsters was recorded months before we knew grunge had hit big. The reason it sounds that way is grunge producer, Steve Albini, whose work on the Pixies breathtakingly wonderful Surfer Rosa I’m a big fan of,” Gedge admits. “We were probably trying to get away from the jangly Velvet Underground sound and become rockier. That ambition and Albini’s skills made it sound like one of the early grunge records – very aggressive, very intense.”

Thereafter, ‘94s Watusi widened Gedge’s musical range further, placing acoustic 6-string and piano into the scratchy circular lullaby “Spangle” and debonair ballad “Gazebo” while utilizing climactic multi-part harmonies for joyously surging Farfisa-based chant “Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah.” Furthermore, he burns down the house on ass-shakin’ spitfire scrum, “Shake It.”

Gedge claims, “Watusi was a very strange album in a way. A lot of folks don’t like it. It’s different – a sidestep away from the wall of noisy guitars. It was more pop with a nod to retro ‘60s pop, surf, and a cappella. It’s experimental in many ways. But I don’t want to make the same album over again like some bands. That’s stultifying.”

Although ‘96s Saturnalia paled in comparison, wispy-voiced euphony, “2,3 Go,” and soothingly uplifting postcard, “Montreal” are topnotch, offering a convenient holding pattern.

Along with ex-girlfriend Sally Murrell, Gedge took another sidestep with the equally rewarding band, Cinerama, whose ’98 debut, Va Va Voom, brought an orchestral restraint to melodic flights of fancy. Then, ‘05s Take Fountain, originally slated as Cinerama’s fourth album, became Wedding Present’s triumphant re-entry, re-igniting the excitingly fast-paced 3-chord scurry of yore. Three years hence, the rampaging follow-up, El Rey, further substantiated Gedge’s prolific career.

“By Take Fountain, Cinerama had changed. The first album was very poppy, reliant more on keyboards and orchestration than guitar. They evolved into more guitar-based music, which I love.” He adds, “That filtered its way back into the arrangements. It went back to our original Wedding Present sound. We did a London session with the late John Peel for BBC radio, came in as Cinerama and they said, ‘David, it sounds more like Wedding Present.’ We used to have string sections and trumpets, but went back to just guitars. People would’ve been disappointed if it was a Cinerama LP. It created confusion so we switched back.”

Never losing focus on what’s most important – making aggressive music out of a few concise chords and well-constructed arrangements – Gedge continues to get sheer joy creating a harrowing frenzy. His splashy guitar assaults, bolstered by rail-bending bass and rat-a-tat drum patter, are easily digested, if oft-times skewed by quirky dissonant reverb.

Presently splitting time living in England’s southerly coastal town of Brighton and oceanic California haven, Santa Monica, I spoke to the inimitable Gedge during a snowy winters’ day in February.

How’d the European George Best tour go in 2007? Why didn’t you do American shows like you will for Bizarro?
  DAVID GEDGE: In ’07, our label in England wanted us to do a 20th anniversary re-release and mentioned the idea of playing the whole album live in its entirety. Honestly, my first reaction was ‘no.’ I’m more of a forward-thinking musician not dwelling on nostalgia. But everyone I spoke to said, ‘You got to do that. It’ll be brilliant.’ I’m now glad we did it. It’s quite surreal putting yourself back two decades, forgetting all you learned afterwards. You remember yourself as a naïve youngster. It was natural to do Bizarro next. We didn’t do George Best in America because it didn’t have the popularity of Bizarro, which was a better album.
I thought Bizarro and Seamonsters showed great restraint. There’s a bunch of reserved retreats countering the hard rocking stuff.
 
 
 
We just improved. When we did George Best, we were a young band with only a few songs. There was no plan. By Bizarro, we were in a position, by playing more concerts and recording more songs, to gain experience. We matured a bit and put newfound skills to work and became more imaginative and substantial.
 
 
There are three singles collections, including Singles 1995-97, that offer a perfect clearinghouse. Did those singles all make the British charts?
  Yeah. They did. We share the record with Elvis Presley for most hits in a single year. All twelve from Hit Parade made the Top 40, which Elvis did in ’57. He obviously sold a lot more. (laughter) But in this current downloading environment, people are going back to the way things were in the ‘50s, when singles were the main medium. Maybe the LP is dying. CD sales are way down. Originally, I’d play my mothers’ singles pretending to be a discjockey.
What are some of your favorite singles from back then?
Stuff by the Everly Brothers and Bill Haley. I’d play the Beatles to death. Then, in the ‘70s, I discovered Queen and Steve Harley’s Cockney Rebel.
 
If you didn’t have such a British singing accent would the Wedding Present have been bigger in America?
 
People’ve said that. But I’ve heard others say we’re not English enough. David Bowie’s very British sounding but became very successful in the States. It’s not the quality of music you make, but instead, being in the right place at the right time or having a hit on a film or big label affiliation.
 
 
 
“Don’t Take Me Home Til I’m Drunk” from El Rey certainly retained the ecstatic charge of yore. But “Santa Ana” had a fresh dramatic fervor confronting the usual hit-and-run blasts.
 
 
I suppose the early stuff is more personal and intimate. But the drama came later on. You move on and change as a songwriter. Certainly a lot of the bits on George Best I’d change now. Currently, I’m writing lyrics for a new album. The first half of my shows will have new and old songs. The second half will feature Bizarro. I have a deadline to get these songs prepared.

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RICHIE HAVENS RETURNS BUT THERE’S ‘NOBODY LEFT TO CROWN’

Interviews

Humble aged-in-the-wool folk artist, Richie Havens, continues to provide inspirational guidance for “Freedom”-bound post-hippies as well as a newer generation of earthy philanthropic college students and their forward-thinking progressive elders. Havens became legendary after performing a mammoth 3-hour opening set at Woodstock, the historic 3-day summer of ’69 event in Bethel Woods that shook America’s foundation. Brought in by a local farmer’s helicopter and forced to extend his set by over a dozen numbers while other musicians were flown in, he came to represent the magical spirit of Woodstock, revitalizing its transformation from mere spectacle to universal phenomenon.

Havens may have existed under the radar for decades, but legions of fans keep him eager to entertain at small to midsize venues cross-country. Since his most earnest songs stand the test of time and the intensity of his improvised shows never wavers, this courteous native New Yorker has survived to thrive.

Before moving to Greenwich Village in ’61 to become part of the burgeoning folk scene, Havens had been a ‘50s street corner doo-wop vocalist and gained minor recognition in the Mc Crea Gospel Singers. Though his self-titled ‘65 debut and better ’66 follow-up, Electric Havens, would garner local acclaim, it was ‘67s Viet Nam-addled masterpiece, Mixed Bag, that propelled him. Written with activist actor, Louis Gosseett, Jr., its glowing highlight, “Handsome Johnny,” loomed as a timely anthemic war protest.

All of a sudden, underground denizens fell in love with his idiosyncratic charcoal-stained baritone rasp and virtuoso dulcimer-styled open-tuned acoustic guitar strumming. Extemporaneous Woodstock jam, “Freedom,” summed up an entire generations hopes and dreams. By ‘70s Stonehedge, Havens’ entire back catalog had dented the all-important sales charts.

During the early ‘70s, Havens’ record company, MGM, offered him a boutique label, Stormy Forest Records, where the keen artist would go on to sign poetic DC pianist Bob Brown, Dylanesque Canadian folkie, Bruce Murdoch, and California singer Kathy Smith. Though these artists unfairly struggled to find aboveground footing as the small label went under, Havens maintained credibility, releasing such fan favorites as ‘71s The Great Blind Degree, ‘87s Simple Things, and ‘04s Grace Of The Sun.

Besides being an established singer-songwriter, Havens’ sharp interpretive abilities are renowned. His distinctly modified versions of classic Beatles tunes rank high alongside British white Soul shouter Joe Cocker’s renditions. His ’70 album, Alarm Clock, contained the lone hit single, an insouciant take on George Harrison’s “Here Comes The Sun,” recorded live at DC’s Cellar Door with rhythm guitar, bass, and bongos. At Woodstock, his tranquilized execution of Lennon-Mc Cartney’s LSD-inspired “Strawberry Fields Forever” practically received canonization. Plus, an electric piano-assisted take on existential Fab Four liturgy, “Eleanor Rigby,” sufficed as Mixed Bag’s chilling closer.

His solid thirty-first long-player, Nobody Left To Crown, is proof positive that the enduring Brooklyn native has not only persevered, but continues to grow musically, taking on today’s societal ills the same way as always, with guitar and pen.

Havens’ latest endeavor seeks understanding, fairness, and refuge in the modern world through a lighter form of rebellious sociopolitical upheaval. And he still prospers when lending his husky melancholic timbre to other artist’s compositions.

Cello glissando counters the precise 6-string shuttering guiding The Who’s defiant “Won’t Get Fooled Again” and subtle acoustic charm underscores portentous ballad “Say It Isn’t So.” Civic Jackson Browne-penned requiem, “Lives In The Balance,” renders similar ominous fare. Solemn Gospel organ drones through the otherwise playful strut, “(Can You Hear) Zeus’ Anger.” But there’s hopefulness coming ashore on gently melodic beat-ticking endearment “Hurricane Waters” and deliberating samba, “The Key.” The celebratory “Standing On The Water” places gypsy violin in a semi-Vaudeville setting to good effect.

“Rock and roll is, in and of itself, folk. My generation’s an important keeper of the noise,” Havens’ explains in a confidently jolly tone. “I don’t look back, but some songs I’ve played for thirty…forty years.”

Then, he half-jokingly advises, “But it’s only because my generation is the best looking generation. The wonderful thing is, I don’t have to explain it because I don’t know what I’m doing in the first place. You just gotta remember the songs.”

I had the privilege to spend an hour on the phone with the soft-spoken-ring-fingered white-bearded bald-headed 69-year-old legend during late January, 2010.

 

Where does American society go from here? President Obama broke the color barrier but everyone still has doubts, concerns, and distrust about the government.

RICHIE HAVENS: There’s gonna be a movement. Transparency is gonna wreck the hidden talents of most politicians. Constitutional changes are gonna be tried. When we think of voting, we think nationally. But the Democrats and Republicans only fight for their own constituencies. For profit people get government positions. Our information systems aren’t people voted in, but brought in by each party.

You take on The Who’s rebellious anthem, “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” on Nobody Left To Crown. Yet our country still struggles with corporate and political corruption and greed. Instead of monopolies, we’ve secretly got equally rancid duopolies, such as dual cable providers, who only compete against each other and limit choice.
   

You’re right. But youth are learning that by putting Obama in power, their votes actually count and that’s captured some of the places that should’ve been carried forth before.

Going back to the Woodstock Generation, what permanent positive changes have you been most proud of?
    

The big one is voting. But you can’t put a finger on the youth because they’re now trying to work across nations instead of just state by state. When kids find out they’ve been duped, snooped, and slooped, they can impose change without waiting for grownups to say it’s OK.

However, many kids are lazy passive-aggressive types unwilling to be riled up by politics.
 
 

 

 

You have outlined what I call a ‘Huggie.’ Puppy dogs who can’t go out on their own, but that’s what a puppy does. He goes down under the wire and gets to go because he has hardened. Once his mind is into it, he won’t be refused.

 
 
 

 

Were you intially inspired by Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan, and the ’60s folk movement? 
 

 

 

Oh no. Dylan and I once shared a manager (the legendary Albert Grossman), but we were contrary. I started as a Brooklyn doo-wop singer and was brought into the Greenwich Village folk scene by that muscle. (laughter) Nina Simone in the ‘50s was very influential. I got to play with her later on. I was so happy I could’ve died and said, ‘Yippie!.’ I got something from her as a younger person.

That was my uncle’s music beyond my mothers’ time. We were on a Ford Motor hootenanny with Herbie Mann and Mongo Santamaria. That was the music playing in between what we were doing. We spent ten days at St. Johns College in DC. This guy from Ford was wrangled and took this caravan cross-country. Then, we went off to different universities. We got to our seventh school, went down the road to make the next one, laughing like hell because everyone’s a great joke teller. All morning we’re making up funny stuff. We stopped at a gas station and in the background I hear a noise. ‘I think the president has been shot.’ Everyone started laughing over another joke. So I reached over and turned the radio knob and heard Kennedy was assassinated. That shut down our caravan. Not one club was open for ten days after the death. The quietude and disbelief. Several clubs went broke. That’s also when this musical triad met. Miles Davis and John Coltrane and other Jazz artists broke out and rock and folk got big. You had folk music at Newport with Dylan. In Europe, Donovan was breaking out. So many things went on at the same cross line.

Tell me about Bethel’s Woodstock Museum.
 
 

 

 

It was opened in 2009. It’s incredible. I’ve never seen a place like that, including the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame – which looks Mickey Mouse in comparison. This magical place. They used it to show what rights people gained by the Woodstock Generation. They brought out a timeline from 1940. It actually showed how the constitution changed. They even built one of those Wolf Trap (educational arts program) places for this.

Nobody Left To Crown strikes a chord with its divergent stylistic oeuvre.

I’ve had albums I’ve made – I knew what I wanted to say and knew what I wanted to happen. I wrote them. Yet I only learned two of the songs. They are the glue to my time change. Everything I do is trailing me, for sure. That shows people and artists that this spirit is just beginning.

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