Co-founders turn Razor & Tie into a monster of rock

(Aug. 9, 1998)

Razor & Tie Entertainment has a monster on its hands. It's no Godzilla, but it sure is cutting a wide sales swath.

The New York-based record label has tapped into the nostalgia of twentysomethings with, of all things, a two-CD package called "Monsters of Rock," a salute to cheesy 1980s hair-rock bands.

Available through one of Razor & Tie's trademark direct-response TV commercials and also in record stores, "Monsters of Rock" is at No. 123 and climbing this week on Billboard's pop chart and is well on its way to becoming the 8-year-old company's biggest seller, eclipsing its 1995 release "Living in the '90s."

And to think they're doing it with the likes of Great White, Ratt, Poison, Warrant and Winger.

"We were thinking of doing this two years ago," co-founder Cliff Chenfeld said recently from the label's burgeoning offices on Sullivan Street in the Village, "and we thought it was too early, because people were still in the midst of Pearl Jam and Soundgarden and were serious about their music. There was enough distance between when the stuff was out and where we are now that people could look back fondly on it with a sense of humor, as opposed to 'Thank god, 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' killed off all these bands.' People went through that phase.

"Four or five years later since Nirvana started and 10 years since this music came out, everybody who was into that music in '88 is now 26 and they're going, 'These are pretty fun pop songs and they remind me of when I was a kid.' It's pretty goofy and guilty-pleasure stuff. It's the same way people our age go back and get a kick out of disco or the Carpenters."

Chenfeld and partner Craig Balsam probably don't have a Cinderella, Britny Fox or White Lion album among them, but Chenfeld says the much-maligned hard rock of the 1980s has its merits.

"You strip down the poofed-up hair and it's pretty good pop music," said Chenfeld, who suddenly begins pounding on his desk and sings "She's my cherry pie ..."

"It's pretty catchy," he said. "I'm going to say something, and I really believe this, I'd rather listen to (Warrant's) 'Cherry Pie' than Pearl Jam. I'm tired of 'Ummmmm.' I kinda like 'Cherry Pie.' "

Okay, but who knew "Monsters of Rock" would take off so quickly?

"When we do these things, we always think there's potential," Balsam said, "but we're never sure how much, with few exceptions. We knew 'Living in the '90s' was going to be big. This one, we thought was going to be good, but we didn't think it was going to be unbelievable. That's part of the fun of being in this business."

And therein lies the reason these two former corporate lawyers traded in their suits and ties for the buttoned-down music reissues world in 1990. They wanted to do something creatively challenging and, well, fun.

Sensing that baby boomers would eventually wax sentimental about the Me Decade, Chenfeld and Balsam teamed their legal minds and devised a plan: selling hits compilations on television. The first release, "Those Fabulous '70s," and its accompanying '70s Preservation Society movement was about as fun as it gets.

"It made sense to us," Chenfeld said. "We thought the '70s thing would be happening, because people go through these nostalgia cycles. I was getting into my 30s and thought people my age would get nostalgic and they're starting to run the media outlets so they're probably going to start jamming culture down everybody's throats and all of a sudden we're going to miss 'The Brady Bunch.'

"We also thought a lot of the people who might buy these records perhaps weren't going into record stores anymore. When we looked at TV, all we saw was Roger Whittaker and Slim Whitman. It was very pragmatic to start ourselves on TV."

Even though they knew nothing about distribution or licensing deals, their legal training came in handy, Balsam said.

"You learn how to pay attention to detail as a lawyer, which is something that for people who run businesses don't necessarily know how to do or they have to learn how to do it," he said. "We really learned the whole business from the bottom up. We like to tell people that we did our own legal work and our own deliveries the first two years."

All they knew was, there was no turning back, Chenfeld said.

"We both didn't like being lawyers," he said, "and we watched people who liked doing what they were doing. We're both pretty happy, optimistic people, but we'd sit there and go, 'Man, I really don't like what we're doing everyday.' The good thing about the TV business, you put out a record, you run a spot on TV, the next morning you know whether it worked or not. We made a TV commercial really cheap; we wrote it ourselves, produced it ourselves, put the thing on, and the next morning, we had 110 orders and we're like, 'Hey! That works. Let's try a little more.' "

They did. "Those Fabulous '70s" begat "Disco Fever," followed by a series of "totally awesome" '80s collections, a hot-selling "Motown Love" and "Living in the '90s" and its sister release, " '90s Style." They have four gold albums to their credit.

Then they went a step further, creating a retail label. They signed some familiar names - Graham Parker, Marshall Crenshaw, 38 Special, Michael Stanley - and a few promising newcomers - Dar Williams, Cledus T. Judd. Veteran artists Francis Dunnery and Fred Eaglesmith also call Razor & Tie home.

They're far from done. A "Monsters" follow-up, "Monster Ballads," is in the works.

And what do they see as the next wave for nostalgia? Chenfeld jokingly says they're considering "The Grunge Album."

"Somebody'll interview us years from now," he said, "and we'll be talking about how crappy pop music is today and 'remember when there were artists with integrity like Pearl Jam and Nirvana?' We'll call it 'The Forgotten Flannel Bands of the Mid-'90s.' "

BWF (before we forget): For a smooth, close shave, visit Razor & Tie on the Web @ www.razorandtie.com.

Ska is all around: Reel Big Fish and Voodoo Glow Skulls help set the pace

(May 15, 1997)

There is nothing new about ska. It was fashionable in Britain in the mid-1960s when the lively precursor to reggae, imbued with the basic Jamaican beat, was popular with mods and skinheads.

Few genres, though, have gone through so many revivals.

Tempered with a punk-rock influence, it evolved into the two-tone movement in the late 1970s and early '80s with racially mixed bands such as the Specials, Madness and English Beat. It was socio-political, fast, furious and danceable, and it eventually weaved its way into mainstream America.

It has fallen in and out of favor several times since. There rarely has been a middle ground: Music followers either love it or hate it.

Along comes Orange County, Calif., residents No Doubt and Goldfinger, and suddenly Spin and Alternative Press magazines tap ska as "the next music trend."

Members of the Orange County groups Voodoo Glow Skulls and Reel Big Fish beg to differ. Ska never went away, and yes, this fad will die down, but ska will remain.

"Every few years you have a flavor-of-the-mouth thing," Voodoo Glow Skulls lead singer Frank Casillas said recently. "A couple years ago, it was groups like Green Day and the Offspring. Everybody was trying to sound like them.

"We don't consider ourselves a ska band. We're a ska-influenced hard-core band, and I think a lot of the bands out there right now are using the word 'ska' to sell themselves as ska when they're not even playing traditional ska. They come out of nowhere. I don't want to call them one-hit wonders, but a lot of them haven't paid their dues. They get signed to a major-label deal before they've even gone on their first tour.

"They'll find out the hard way that you have to build up a fan base to establish longevity."

Voodoo Glow Skulls would know. Along with the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, they have been at the forefront of a manic, raplike ska movement since the early '90s. One listen to their major-label debut album, "Baile de los Locos" (released May 6 on Epitaph), puts the exhilarating seven-member unit at the head of the class.

Reel Big Fish, meanwhile, may appear to be newcomers - the ska-pop group's second full-length album, "Turn the Radio Off" (Mojo/Universal), was released in January and still is building up a full head of steam - but the seven-member group has been together several years.

The band even pokes fun at the way it climbed the ladder of success in the single, "Sell Out." The accompanying video parodies Reel Big Fish's rise to fame, from flipping fast-food burgers to getting groomed for a record deal.

"Critics don't get the joke in the song, but it's kind of on them, so it's okay," singer-trombone player Scott Klopfenstein said recently. "That's our philosophy: If you don't get the joke, then it's probably about you. All those people who make fun of us, and there are some people who have said some not-so-nice things about us, those are the people we're laughing at."

Casillas bristles when critics view the Glow Skulls' brand of hard-core ska-rock as nothing more than noise.

"A lot of people don't realize that you have seven different elements playing at once and you have to have them all work out," he said. "There isn't one person doing all the work, all the writing, all the music. This is a true democratic effort."

Klopfenstein said, critics aside, Reel Big Fish is buoyed by fan reaction with each passing concert date.

"This is like our third or fourth time we're hitting some of these markets and the kids are still excited," he said. "It's kind of cool and refreshing to know that every time you play a place, they're still into it. It's a good feeling."

Voodoo Glow Skulls lifted itself up from underground status to a big-label act. Casillas said he realizes they may have lost some diehard fans along the way, but he thinks the band's knowledge of the business will help them in the long run.

"We've learned about doing things on our own," he said. "We've done our own tours, and we even owned a record store for a while that we just recently closed and now we have our own studio. That helped us not only from a band point of view but also from the business aspect. We've accomplished a lot on our own just to get this far.

"The underground scene is definitely responsible for our success. I think the times have finally caught up with us; we didn't catch up with the times. Now there are so many bands doing ska right now that I think it's almost overkill.

"There are only a few groups around from the beginning, like ourselves and the Bosstones, who can stand the test of time."

BWF (before we forget): Swim with Reel Big Fish on the Web @ www.mojorecords.com and the Voodoo Glow Skulls @ www.voodooglowskulls.com.

Republica's 'Ready to Go'

(Sept. 26, 1996)

Tim Dorney can't believe it. There it is, the cover of Republica's debut album basking in the floodlights outside the Virgin Megastore in New York's Times Square.

All the keyboardist and his band mates, lead singer Saffron and keyboardist Andy Todd, can do is stare.

"I never, ever in my wildest dreams believed I would be standing in the middle of Times Square and there's the cover of our album up in lights," Dorney said recently from RCA Records' Broadway office. "It's incredible. The first time we saw it, we were in just absolute fits of laughter. We couldn't believe we have come this far."

Reality has sunk in now that the British alternative-dance quintet's first single, the hook-savvy "Ready to Go," is at No. 68 and climbing on Billboard's Hot 100 chart.

Dorney has come a long way from his stint in Flowered Up, a U.K. "flavor of the month" in the early '90s. He is taking nothing for granted with Republica.

"Flowered Up fell to pieces, basically," he said. "We ran out of money and things, and things just got harder and harder to work. A few lineup changes lost the edge of what the band was about. In the end, the singer quit. He was having a lot of personal problems himself, and he couldn't take the pressure."

Poor management didn't help matters either.

"What we went through, I learned a lot of lessons that would help put another band together," Dorney said. "I wasn't nervous about (starting Republica) at all. I had already seen the pitfalls of what a band could go through. I wasn't about to let that happen again."

Dorney teamed with Todd, who had produced tracks for acts ranging from Bjork to Barbra Streisand, to form an upbeat, techno-oriented dance group. They wanted to add some vocals, and after a few auditions, they picked Saffron, whose resume included backup work for The Shamen, N-Joi and Jah Wobble.

"She's a fiery animal," Dorney said. "We wanted somebody with a bit of a personality, rather than just a dance diva. And she already had a track record as well. She's a consummate performer. She amazes me every day."

They added guitarist Johnny Male and former Bow Wow Wow/Adam Ant drummer Dave Barborossa to solidify its live sound.

After finishing their first song, "Out of This World," they already had a label itching to sign them. For the U.K. indie Deconstruction, there was only one problem: The band needed a name.

"They had this deal on the table, ready to pay us loads of money," Dorney said, "and they said, 'Look, this is a legal document. You've got to have a name on it.' We tried for ages to try to think of a name, but eventually our managers just locked us in a room and said, 'You are not coming out until you come up with a name for this band.'

"About three and a half hours later, after some complete soul searching and some completely ridiculous ideas, we eventually came up with Republica. It's been great ever since."

BWF (before we forget): Salute Republica on the Web @ www.deconstruction.co.uk/.

The heat is on! The Reverend Horton Heat that is

(Feb. 27, 2000)

If Jim Heath, leader of rockabilly-championing Reverend Horton Heat, ever needs a reminder that he has made it, he thinks about the fans he has in high places.

Like Drew Carey.

"He's a big fan of ours," Heath said recently. "We did his HBO special and then we did an episode (of Carey's hit ABC series). We were a bar band called The Underprivileged, or something like that. There was a battle of the bands, and he got his old high school band back together, the Horndogs. All they did was one song, 'A Taste of Honey.'

"It was a lot of fun. I didn't realize how much work goes into it. It was like a four- or five-day thing. We each got a trailer with our own names on them, so we felt like stars for a day. We went out and got drunk with him after the show. He told us he was going to try to have us back on sometime this year as a recurring theme."

Appearing on "The Drew Carey Show" two seasons ago was a big milestone in the Dallas trio's decadelong wild righteous ride.

"It's one of those things where I have to call my mom and say, 'Look, I didn't go astray. I'm really doing something,' " Heath said, with a laugh. "When you tell your parents you want to do this for a living, they want you to have something to fall back on. Of course, I have absolutely nothing to fall back on because I've forgotten everything I learned in school.

"They weren't pushing me to be anything. I did a couple years of college, and several beers and Yeagermeisters later, nothing sank in, so I guess I have to stick with this thing for a while."

Good thing, otherwise the world would have been deprived of the fun antics of Heath, a first-class guitarist, bassist Jimbo Wallace and drummer Scott Churilla. Since the early 1990s, they have combined the campiness of the Cramps, the daring of Screamin' Jay Hawkins and the downbeat madness of the Stray Cats in concocting a respectful tribute to rockabilly.

They don't stray far from their mission on their latest album, "Spend a Night in the Box," due March 21. Produced by Paul Leary of the equally shocking Butthole Surfers, the album is the trio's first with Time Bomb Recordings after six years with Interscope.

"Once we got the record company boot off our heads, and now we're with Time Bomb, it's as close to an indie label as you can imagine with the finances to get your product out there and actually do some promotion for it," Heath said. "They just go about it a different way than the major labels do. It's really refreshing. It's like going back to our Sub Pop days.

"We've been playing these songs on the road the past few weeks. Fans come up to us and say, 'Finally, you're back to the wild Horton Heat, and you're not trying to please the record company.' They're in love with the new songs. I feel that way too."

Even though technically they are a boy band, Heath and company aren't likely to get played alongside Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync on mainstream radio. That's radio's loss.

"Major labels will give you that initial push," Heath said. "They'll send your record out to the radio stations and try to convince them to put it in rotation. But if you sound anything different than the station's normal format, your chances are pretty nil. They send it out anyway, then when you get turned down, the record label goes, 'Oh, this must be a crummy album. We can't do anything with it. On with the next thing.' They drop it like a hot potato.

"It's frustrating because you put all this effort into it and you know it's good music. Yet, they use us in movies and commercials and soundtracks. Somebody out there likes it. It's commercially viable for those situations, just not for radio.

"I stopped trying to understand this business a long time ago. We keep doing what we do and things are looking good, in spite of all those obstacles."

THE FIRST RECORD I EVER BOUGHT: "It was down the street at a garage sale where I lived. I guess I was about 10; it was CCR's 'Green River.' I think I paid a dollar for it."

THE FIRST CONCERT I EVER WENT TO: "There were concert tickets on the Christmas tree; my dad took me to go see Bob Seger at an old arena in Houston. I remember sitting there, and that was back when you could pretty much get away with smoking a joint at whatever arena you were in. So I'm sitting watching Bob Seger, and I think Starz was the opening act, somebody held out a joint towards me and I looked at my dad and his evil eye and then I looked back at the guy, 'No, I think I'll pass on that.' "

THE LAST CD I BOUGHT: "I think it was a Johnny Thunders bootleg somewhere in New York. It's hard for me to go into Camelot and find anything I like. I did buy a Led Zeppelin cassette today, 'Led Zeppelin II.' I've got a '69 pickup truck and that's all it's got in it, a tape player."

BWF (before we forget): Praise the lord, The Reverend Horton Heat is on the Web @ www.reverendhortonheat.com. ... The Reverend Horton Heat album discography - "Smoke 'Em If You Got 'Em" (Sub Pop, 1992); "The Full-Custom Gospel Sounds" (1993); "Liquor in the Front" (Interscope, 1994); "It's Martini Time" (1996); "Space Heater" (1998); "Holy Roller" (Sub Pop, 1999); "Spend a Night in the Box" (Time Bomb, 2000).

Jason Ringenberg has 'A Pocketful of Soul'

(Sept. 24, 2000)

After nearly 19 years fronting the pioneering alternative-country group Jason and the Scorchers, Jason Ringenberg finds himself in rarefied quarters: He's now a record company mogul.

Well, sort of.

The Illinois native, now living on a farm outside Nashville with his wife and their daughter, released his engaging solo acoustic debut album, "A Pocketful of Soul," on Aug. 29 on his own Courageous Chicken label.

Ringenberg is getting right into the swing of being a label owner.

"I tell people off all the time and fire people left and right," he said recently, with a knowing glance. "I screw over artists every chance I get." Joking aside, Ringenberg felt the time was right to do something outside the Scorchers. The group hasn't officially disbanded (they occasionally reunite for festivals), but the writing was there on the wall.

"I'm pretty into the musical direction I'm taking now and I had to take that alone, there's no way I could do that with the band," he said. "Originally, I was just writing a few songs just to keep the musical juices flowing. After the Scorchers' live album (in 1998), it was a closing point, and I had a new baby and I was working regular jobs, but I wanted to keep my interest in music going, so I just wrote songs for the fun of it, like I wrote one for my wife and one for our daughter. I also wrote one about growing up in the Illinois prairie, and pretty soon I had seven or eight pretty good songs and I started to think what to do with them.

"Even recording it, I decided I was just going to have fun and not worry about what I was going to do with it afterwards. I hung out with a friend in this old Victorian house, in his studio in the living room and cut some tracks. When I had it done, a lot of people would listen to it and say I should form my own record company because I've been in the business so long and giving everyone else the money. Before I knew it, I was a record company mogul."

With the Scorchers, Ringenberg was tightly wound, a streak of punk and hard rock running through his veins. On "A Pocketful of Soul," he revisits his tender, spiritual roots growing up in rural Illinois, punctuated by the ode "Oh Lonesome Prairie."

One of the finer cuts, "Last of the Neon Cowboys," co-written by Kevin Welch, takes him back to when he first moved to Nashville in 1980.

"There's a lot of personal things in there and some third-person stuff, remembering when I first came to Nashville," he said. "It was such a backwater little town, but there were these old country and western singers that used to hang around all these bars singing for tips.

"It's like a different town altogether now. The whole downtown area has been renovated and remodeled and tourist-ized. There's pro football here now and all different kinds of music happening here. It really was a backwater town when I came here in the early '80s; you know, it wasn't the third coast, it was more like the 12th coast or more like a lake in the middle of a desert. It wasn't even a coast."

In the lag time between leaving the Scorchers and recording his first album, Ringenberg kept busy by doing carpentry work. Some who hired him knew who he was, others had no clue of his musical past.

"It's been an interesting life I've led, because I'm not famous by any stretch, but there's a certain amount of people out there who know who I am," he said. "Sometimes they look at me kind of funny, like 'Why are you doing this? Aren't you a rich rock star?' This is by choice; I probably could have gutted it out, but it would've meant taking some bad gigs. I try at this point in my life to keep music a sacred thing, keeping it pure and not polluted."

The Scorchers were everything Nashville's Music Row is not when they came out of left field in 1981, but they definitely made their mark. Their landmark 1983 LP, "Fervor," is featured on "Jimmy Guterman's Rolling Stone Guide to the 100 Greatest Rock and Roll Records" and "The Country Music Association's 100 Greatest Country Records."

Their popularity extended all the way to England, where the group's 1984 appearance at London's Marquee Club was called "one of the Top Five gigs of all time" by New Musical Express.

"The band in the mid-'80s was one of the finest rock 'n' roll bands on the planet," Ringenberg said. "There's no question about that; it just had it ... not every night, but on the right nights, man, that was a lethal band. That night was one of them, the high point of what we were doing in England. We were on the covers of several big magazines over there; here we were playing at the Marquee Club, and Bill Wyman was there that night and Elvis Costello. It was heavy, and we just delivered."

Ringenberg is still delivering. "A Pocketful of Soul" won't crack the charts, but it's already a success in his eyes.

"Frankly, when I first brought it home and played it for (daughter) Addie and my wife, just seeing Addie dancing around the room singing 'For Addie Rose ...,' that's enough for me," he said. "Everything past that is pretty much gravy."

THE FIRST RECORD I EVER BOUGHT: "I believe it was 'John Denver's Greatest Hits' on eight-track tape. He had a lot of great records. It must've been hard to be one of the biggest recording artists in the world to essentially becoming a joke in most people's eyes in the '80s and '90s."

THE FIRST CONCERT I EVER WENT TO: "The Ozark Mountain Daredevils and Pure Prairie League in 1977. Talk about some records, the Daredevils had some cool ones ... 'It'll Shine When It Shines,' 'Men From Earth.' I remember talking with Jerry Moss at A&M; he was pretty involved with them. He said he got them all together and said, 'Give me one year of your life and I'll make you superstars. I can make you the new Eagles.' They said, 'Well, I got farmin' to do. My wife's had a baby, my cow's sick.' He said he's always regretted that he couldn't talk those guys into going for the brass ring."

THE LAST CD I BOUGHT: "I bought it for my wife, the last Cake record, the one with 'Never There.' I just love their trumpet player; he's kind of off key, but still he's good."

BWF (before we forget): Catch up with Jason Ringenberg on the Web @ www.jasonringenberg.com. ... The Jason Ringenberg album discography - Jason and the Nashville Scorchers, "Reckless Country Soul" EP (Praxis, 1982); "Fervor" (1983); Jason and the Scorchers, "Fervor" expanded version (EMI, 1984); "Lost and Found" (1985); "Still Standing" (1986); "Thunder and Fire" (A&M, 1989); "One Foot in the Honkytonk" (Capitol, 1992); "A Blazing Grace" (Mammoth, 1995); "Clear Impetuous Morning" (1996); "Midnight Roads and Stages Seen" live (1998); Jason Ringenberg, "A Pocketful of Soul" (Courageous Chicken, 2000).

Roachford sets sights again on America

(Sept. 28, 1995)

Scratch the British rock 'n' soul group Roachford off the list of "the greatest disappearing acts of the 1980s."

To American audiophiles, it may seem that the quartet, which reached No. 25 on Billboard's pop chart with the vibrant "Cuddly Toy (Feel For Me)" in the spring of 1989, was just another flash in the pan, the proverbial "flavor of the month" from England.

Singer-keyboardist Andrew Roachford says they're anything but.

"We got caught up in politics, in a way," the South Londoner said recently. "Our record company didn't release our second album in America. So it looks like we vanished for like five years, which seems very strange."

The band's third album, "Permanent Shade of Blue" (on Epic), was issued earlier this year in England and certified gold. Powered by the pop-pumped single "Only To Be With You," the LP also has gone double-platinum in Australia and sold more than 100,000 copies in Germany.

Now Roachford's attention turns to America, the toughest nut to crack. The album was released last week.

"The ironic thing is, I think our music would appeal to a lot of Americans, but it's just a matter of getting them to hear it," said Roachford, who is buoyed by the recent U.S. success of other black British artists such as Seal and Des'ree.

"Things have changed. They're being accepted in America. When I first went over to America, it was a different world. It was all new for us."

Six years ago, Roachford told Rolling Stone magazine that his major inspirations were the classic soul and blues sounds of the '50s and '60s. "Otis Redding lives in me," he declared.

Today, "Otis lives in me more now," Roachford said, with a laugh. "I'm not saying his spirit is possessing me. I feel an affinity with what he was feeling, where he was coming from, the depth and the soul that he had. I think I have some of that feel myself.

"I just love the kind of artists who can get up there and just pull everything out, the rawness out. So many singers today are preoccupied with their egos. They're not giving everything of themselves, really. They're just giving you the version of them that they think is cool.

"Otis Redding wasn't about being cool. He was just real."

With that in mind, Roachford says he is optimistic about his band's stateside chances.

"Our time will come. We have a lot of influences from America and that's one reason why it's so important for us to be accepted in America, because it's an acceptance I think we deserve."

BWF (before we forget): Roachford briefly charted in Britain in October 1997 with the single "The Way I Feel."

Rollerskate Skinny rides 'Horsedrawn Wishes'

BWF (before we forget): Check out the band on the Web @ www.rollerskateskinny.com or send e-mail to frodo@iol.ie.

David Lee Roth: Still crazy from the heat after all these years

(Oct. 30, 1997)

Nothing against Sammy Hagar, but he's no David Lee Roth.

Diamond Dave's flash and sex appeal and arena-size vocals helped define the Van Halen sound, just as much as the group's namesake/guitar wiz, Eddie Van Halen.

Roth's replacement, Hagar, didn't have quite the flair. Hagar's successor, former Extreme lead singer Gary Cherone, isn't likely to turn any heads either.

Sorry, Ed, there's only one Diamond Dave.

"Their whole band has swung around in a different direction," Roth said in a recent interview. "The old Van Halen made you wanna dance and screw, and the new Van Halen encourages us to drink Pepsi and milk and drive a Nissan."

That's all fine and dandy, but it's not Roth's cup of tea. He cares to remember "what made classic Van Halen tick": the massive egos, a healthy dose of conflict, the insatiable urge to break rules. He says as much and more in his just-released, no-holds-barred autobiography, "Crazy From the Heat" (Hyperion).

Talking with Roth is akin to reading his book. It's one steady stream of consciousness, as if you're sharing a cocktail with him in a Tiki hut bar on Borneo and he's shooting the breeze. No subject is taboo, and no one escapes his wickedly funny barbs.

"There's no ghost writing, nobody pointing me in a direction. Some people say it tends to ramble on, and I'm like, 'Naw, really?' " he said, sarcastically. "I don't care if it rains, I'm waterproof, nothing drowns me out."

If anything, his version of the truth, undoubtedly different from anyone else in Van Halen, is entertaining.

"The content I think is not what you traditionally read in a book," he said. "I haven't been through 18 months of therapy and I want to apologize as part of my 40 stages or whatever.

"There's been people who've pissed me off to some degree, so there's a little name-calling, and there's a hurt feeling or two, but no family members were kidnapped, no household pets have disappeared. I think everybody got off pretty easy here."

One of the most telling moments is when Roth recounts Van Halen's flirtations with a possible reunion, fueled by an appearance on the MTV Awards last year. "So what's so difficult about a reunion with these guys? I don't have to love them. I don't have to love you to make great music with you," he writes in his book. He recorded two new songs for Van Halen's "Greatest Hits" album; the next thing he hears, Van Halen is auditioning for Hagar's replacement.

"Any first week in a screen-writing class at a university," Roth said last week's interview, "the professor will say to you, 'Where does conflict belong in a screenplay?' Answer: Everywhere! Why should this band be any different? The fireworks, the anxiety, sure it's worth 20 bucks (to see them perform)."

Any thoughts of a reunion went out the window after that fiasco. Roth didn't slink away; he finished his book and also helped Rhino Records piece together a career retrospective, titled "The Best" (out Oct. 28).

From "Yankee Rose" to the album's new recording, "Don't Piss Me Off," Roth is proud of his post-Van Halen achievements.

"Over the summers past," he said, "there was an effort level there, you can hear it. Slow song, fast song, in-between song, you hear the desire, you hear the energy. And I think you can hear that it's legit."

BWF (before we forget): Shine on with Diamond Dave on the Web @ www.rhino.com and www.msopr.com . ... David Lee Roth's solo album discography - "Crazy From the Heat" EP (Warner, 1985); "Eat 'Em and Smile" (1986); "Skyscraper" (1988); "A Little Ain't Enough" (1991); "Your Filthy Little Mouth" (1994); "The Best" (Rhino, 1997).

Josh Rouse feels right 'At Home'

(March 26, 2000)

What comes around goes around. At least Josh Rouse hopes so.

When he's not building his fan base and winning over critics, the Nashville-based singer-songwriter parks cars at a luxury hotel. It pays the bills between albums, yes, but it also keeps him grounded.

"After the first record (1998's 'Dressed Up Like Nebraska') came out, I toured for about a year off and on," Rouse said recently. "Then there was a lapse of like seven or eight months, where I did some touring, like I toured with Aimee Mann, between that I had to make money so I went back to parking cars. It was a little frustrating, but I was ready to be back home. I'm married, and I wanted to be with my wife."

Rouse had several celebrity sightings, such as Ray Charles and comedian Carrot Top, but one person, in particular - Dallas Cowboys quarterback Troy Aikman - left a horrible impression on him.

"He stiffed me. He didn't tip me," he said. "Isn't that terrible? I was like, 'That is just pathetic.' He does it to everybody, that's what he's known for. All those millions and millions of dollars and he can't help the small working man out. That's all right, my time will come."

With his second Slow River/Rykodisc album, "Home" (released March 14), Rouse is well on his way. He breaks the traditional singer-songwriter mold with a set of melancholic, literate and tuneful songs that embrace power-pop.

"Home" doesn't tackle love and other typical "sensitive singer-songwriter" fare. "Marvin Gaye," for example, is a metaphor for a tortured artist.

"I'm a big fan of Marvin Gaye, obviously," Rouse said. "I wrote the song when I was on tour with the first record, 'Dressed Up Like Nebraska,' and we were listening to 'What's Going On?' and I've heard that a million times, but I realized there's a line in there that says 'Who really cares?' There's a line in my song that says 'Who really cares?' I sat down that night when we got off the bus and I looked at the words and I was like, 'This kind of outlines his life almost.' It could have something to do with him.

"Then I saw E!'s 'True Hollywood Story' on Marvin Gaye. His life was a series of becoming successful, money problems, then success and failures. That's what the song had to deal with, so I thought, 'I'll just title it 'Marvin Gaye.' He was a huge star. It was obvious he had something that few people ever have, an aura about him. Of course, he was an amazing singer, he was someone who was really special. He had that sex vibe going on."

The album's standout track, "Directions," is for restless souls who "stay home all night with the TV and wife; comfortable life's not all it's cracked up to be, don't like the direction you have come to."

"It's a subtle record," Rouse said. "That's the kind of records I make and I like. I did what I wanted to do on the record. I produced it pretty much myself. They're catchy songs, but in a subtle way; it's something you need to listen to a couple of times. It's not an obvious, huge pop record."

Rouse is tired of the "whole sensitive singer-songwriter thing" and enjoys shaking things up.

"I think I make more of a 'band' record," he said. "It doesn't sound like a guy on an acoustic guitar whining. That kind of stuff is old. Not all my songs are about love or some girl breaking my heart. A lot of the stuff I like is probably what you consider more indie pop; I'm into people like Eric Matthews, that orchestral pop. I consider people like him my peers, people like Lampchop, who are friends of mine. We don't sound a lot alike, but we're still using different instruments instead of just rock guitars for everything. We're substituting things with strings and stuff like that.

"I knew what songs I wanted to put on the record, and I knew what instruments I wanted to use. I pretty much had it all in my head when I went into the studio, and I came pretty close. I don't know if anybody ever really gets there. God, I was reading an interview of somebody the other day, maybe it was Eric Clapton, he said there's something he hears in his head and he's just trying to get there, he still hasn't done it. I guess that's the way I feel, too."

Rouse has been signed to appear sometime this spring on NBC's "Late Night With Conan O'Brien," and the album's opening track, "Laughter," will surface in the March 28 episode of Fox's "Party of Five" series. Meanwhile, Triple A radio stations have latched on to "Marvin Gaye" and "Directions," which Slow River will service to modern-rock stations in April.

Maybe he won't have a mainstream pop hit, but Rouse hopes he will gain more fans, enough to allow him to quit the valet job and focus on his music full-time.

"How the album will do is such a mystery," he said. "You never know, but I'm ready for it to come out and see for the first couple of months how it's doing. I hope it does well. It's a real good record, and with the first record, I built up a decent fan base, enough to where there's a building start there. This is still a building process."

THE FIRST RECORD I EVER BOUGHT: "Carole King's 'Tapestry.' My mom had it, and I can remember I was somewhere and I saw it on 8-track and I had to have it. It's funny, because last Christmas I bought it on CD for her and she was like, 'Oh, I remember this was the first record you bought.' "

THE FIRST CONCERT I EVER WENT TO: "Until I was 13, I lived in Nebraska and not a lot of groups came through there. It might have been something like the Marshall Tucker Band."

THE LAST CD I BOUGHT: "The (self-titled) 'Chappaquiddick Skyline' album, which is by a guy named Joe Pernice (of the Pernice Brothers). It's pretty good. The one I bought before that, a guy named Sam Prekop, he's from a band called Seeing Cake; that record is amazing. A friend had it and I knew I just had to have it."

BWF (before we forget): Josh Rouse is home on the Web @ www.joshrouse.com.

Royal Crown Revue still has that swing

(Nov. 7, 1999)

Swing was the thing last year, culminating with Big Bad Voodoo Daddy's Super Bowl appearance in January. Now swing doesn't have that same ring.

A backlash was inevitable, just as ska experienced the year before.

Fortunately for Royal Crown Revue, it is seemingly immune.

"There's been a backlash to swing because it got so hyped up and got turned into this cheesy thing," horn player Scott Steen said recently. "It got shoved down everyone's throats, 'Swing's the thing.' Just let it do its thing."

That has been Royal Crown Revue's philosophy since its inception in 1989, and it has served the seven-member band well, all the way to its latest album, "Walk On Fire" (RCR Records/Side One Dummy).

"Unlike some of the other swing bands," Steen said, "we're getting the respect, because we're doing jazz festivals. The biggest tip of the hat to us was doing the Hollywood Bowl (playing to 17,000 people in September) with a 90-piece orchestra backing us up. That's like the highlight of all of our careers combined. You don't get to headline the Hollywood Bowl very often."

The group left Warner Brothers earlier this year to start up its own label.

"We've been wanting to do that for a long time, because we were pretty disappointed with Warner and basically wanted to do our own thing," Steen said.

The band's "Datin' With No Dough" pops up on the recently released "Swingers Too," the soundtrack album of movie originally released in 1998.

BWF (before we forget): Swing with Royal Crown Revue on the Web @ www.rcr.com.

Rule 62 controls its fate

(Aug. 14, 1997)

For a band that didn't have a sacred demo tape to pass out to record company executives, Southern California's Rule 62 sure commanded a lot of attention.

Singer Brian Coakley likens the big-label genuflections to "a feeding frenzy."

"We had a tape, but we didn't like it, so no one got to hear it," Coakley said recently. "The first label who became interested in us was Geffen. They came in and we did a little showcase at a rehearsal studio, and they offered us a deal.

"Then Trauma became interested, and we did the same thing for them, a showcase. They kept saying, 'Do you have a tape?' and we'd say no. Then we decided, 'Screw these rehearsal studio gigs.' They were so sterile."

So many other labels wanted to hear the new talk of the town in Los Angeles - Epic, Capitol, Elektra, Atlantic, WORK, Maverick - that the rock quartet set up shop at the Dragonfly and played once a week at 7:30 p.m. sharp. Each gig was packed with industry people. A few weeks later, the group narrowed down its wish list to Capitol, WORK and Maverick. By then, they already had a demo, financed by one of the labels.

"Capitol and WORK hesitated for like a day," Coakley said. "Guy Oseary (at Maverick) called us and said he had one of the songs stuck in his head, 'Believed,' and he wanted to meet with us. (Label head) Freddy DeMann says, 'We want you; whatever you want, you got it.' "

On July 29, Rule 62 got what it wanted, its self-titled debut, produced by Ron Saint-Germain (Soundgarden, 311, Tool). Coakley, guitarist Jon Goodell, bassist Eric Banks and drummer Johnny Knight rewarded Maverick's faith in them with a thoughtful and infectious album. Tracks such as "Drown" (the first single), "Maybe I Will" and "She Sells" form a palatable package.

It has been a long time coming for Coakley, formerly of the indie rock group Cadillac Tramps.

"The end of Cadillac Tramps was painful," he said. "We weren't getting along, even though things were going well. We had a deal with Epic on the table, and we still broke up. When things didn't happen right away, for like a year, it was tough.

"There were no shows, nothing happening, and there were lots of offers to get back together with Cadillac Tramps, which I knew would be a bad deal. I mean, you have to stick to your principles. If you break up for a certain reason, then money's not a reason to get back together."

Coakley made the wise choice, formed Rule 62 and set a specific goal: to record an "album," not three singles and filler.

"I think one of the problems is that most people aren't aware of what they're doing or that they don't seek other opinions," he said. "A lot of bands actually believe all the songs on their record are good, but they're not all good. I've always made an effort to make sure every song recorded is a good song. I write an incredible amount of songs, and I could never shirk on any one of them."

BWF (before we forget): Rule 62 reigns on the Web @ www.rule62.com.

Rush charges from 'Different Stages'

(Nov. 15, 1998)

This is the way it's supposed to be for a veteran rock group, enjoying a relaxing world tour in the twilight of its multiplatinum career, not phoning in it and going through the motions.

For lead singer-bassist Geddy Lee, Rush's "Test For Echo" tour last year was perhaps the most fun he has ever had on the road. A year later, that carefree atmosphere is reflected in the Canadian trio's striking three-CD live set, "Different Stages," released Nov. 10 on Anthem/Atlantic.

"I think the quality of the performances night to night were very high, the consistency of the performances were very high," Lee said recently. "Partly the way the set was organized, having two sets with an intermission in between and no opening act, there was a lot less wear and tear on us. Through the course of the day, we had the whole day to ourselves; we didn't have to get there till 5 o'clock.

"(Guitarist) Alex (Lifeson) and I traveled by private plane, and that was really nice. You had the flight and the next thing you know you're sleeping in your hotel room, instead of sleeping on a bus. We got up almost every day and played golf. It was leisurely and very enjoyable. For (drummer) Neil (Peart) as well, he organized a very extensive motorcycle trip around the tour, where essentially he would go from stage to his bus, go to sleep as soon as his adrenalin had died down. Around 5 or 6 in the morning, he'd get up, get on his motorcycle with his buddy and they had a trailer behind them with three motorcycles. They plotted out this beautiful route to wherever the next venue was, off the beaten track. Along the way, they would stop in all sorts of interesting little towns in America. Of course, he would pick me up a fridge magnet at each stop for my collection.

"Everybody made the most of it, and at the end of the day, there was this gig."

For "Different Stages," there were many gigs to sort through, more than 100. Lee, co-producer and engineer Paul Northfield and live sound engineer Robert Scovill whittled down mounds of tapes, eliminating technically flawed shows and narrowing it down to the best 15.

"We recorded almost every show," Lee said. "You make an attempt to be recording all the time so that you forget about it. You're not thinking about the fact that you're recording. Past albums, it was 'Okay, we're going to record these 10 shows.' It's pressure and it makes you uptight, and you never really know if you got your best performance.

"Recording in this manner, you're never thinking about it. You're going to capture some of those moments, if nothing else by accident. That was the whole point of doing it this way. I think it was successful, even though it was a helluva lot more work in post-production to try to sift through a hundred shows and eliminate bad takes, sitting there with 15 great versions of one song. 'Just shoot me in the head now, how am I supposed to know which one's the best one?' "

It was a mammoth undertaking, one Lee says he isn't likely to repeat, but he's pleased with the results. Disc One steps back to the 1970s, to the days of "Closer to the Heart" and "The Trees," climaxing with the entire "2112" suite. Disc Two tackles more recent works, such as "Show Don't Tell," "Analog Kid," "Tom Sawyer" and an efficient version of the group's most identifiable song, "The Spirit of Radio."

The third disc, a freebie to the group's loyal fans, unearths a mislaid performance at London's famed Hammersmith Odeon during the 1978 "A Farewell to Kings" tour.

"We had recorded it for a radio show, I believe," Lee said. "I couldn't remember when I found the tapes why I had them, but after thinking about it and listening to the show and hearing my voice, I realized I had a cold. I think I had one of those mid-tour bugs, because some of the phrasing on some of the songs is really unusual; I was back-phrasing like a mother.

"Obviously, I had a sore throat, so I was trying to get through the show and compensate by singing a little differently. It was really only the early part of the show that suffered for it, then you see that my voice warmed up. But if I was doing it for a radio show, my thinking would've been, 'How can I not put the beginning part of the show on? It's not going to work, so forget about it.' I must've put the tapes in my road case and taken them home.

"Twenty years later, I put that first show up and you hear the first three or four songs and my voice is a little croaky, but if you eliminate those songs and just stick to the bulk of the show, it sounds great. So that's what I did, I used the best parts of the show. The instrumental part, to me, was fresh. And playing for the English crowds are unique; they react in a particular way, and that venue always had a special significance to us because so many bands we had admired came up from London and all played that building at one point or another.

"When we put the tapes up, it really took me back there, and I thought, 'Maybe that'll do that for our fans,' transport them to another continent and to another time in our band's history, and include it as a gift, a bonus package."

"Different Stages" is a true retrospective, Lee says, as the band approaches the 25th anniversary of its self-titled Mercury debut album. So much has happened since, including 20 gold and platinum albums, which ties them for third with Kiss for the most by a group in rock history, behind the Rolling Stones and Beatles.

Surprisingly, Rush was a hard sell in 1974, even in its native Toronto. "We couldn't get arrested," Lee says, laughing. The group couldn't get a record deal and wound up releasing "Rush" on its own label, a copy of which landed in the hands of Cleveland disc jockey Donna Halper, who put it on WMMS' rotation. Fans came out of the woodwork and Mercury swooped in.

Like Kiss, Rush's fan base hasn't wavered since. Even Lee is hard pressed to come up with its secret to long-term success.

"At the core of it, though, there's a sound and a subject matter that we deal with that strikes a very positive chord in our fan base, more than in passing," he said. "There's a conviction in our music, and what we've talked about from time to time has obviously affected people in a profound way and that has made them loyal to our band. That's created an environment for us to work in, and the chemistry within the band, our friendship, our mutual respect for each other as musicians and our single-mindedness of musical direction has made the most of that opportunity created by those fans."

There are no definitive plans for a new Rush studio album, Lee said, due largely to the deaths of Peart's wife and daughter last year.

BWF (before we forget): The Rush album discography (all Mercury titles have been reissued and remastered via Chronicles) - "Rush" (Mercury, 1974); "Fly By Night" (1975); "Caress of Steel" (1975); "2112" (1976); "All the World's a Stage" (live, 1976); "A Farewell to Kings" (1977); "Archives" (reissue of first three LPs, 1978); "Hemispheres" (1978); "Permanent Waves" (1980); "Moving Pictures" (1981); "Exit ... Stage Left" (live, 1981); "Signals" (1982); "Grace Under Pressure" (1984); "Power Windows" (1985); "Hold Your Fire" (1987); "A Show of Hands" (live, 1989); "Presto" (1989); "Chronicles" (best-of, 1990); "Roll the Bones" (Atlantic, 1991); "Counterparts" (1993); "Test For Echo" (1996); "Different Stages" (Anthem/Atlantic, live, 1998).

Rust observes a 'Bar Chord Ritual'

(Jan. 11, 1996)

Artists get their inspiration from all sorts of life experiences, from the bitter breakup of a relationship to drug experimentation or spiritual enlightenment.

Almost anything goes.

John Brinton, lead singer-guitarist of San Diego rock quartet Rust, got his muse for the band's full-length debut album "Bar Chord Ritual" (Atlantic) from a source we all know and hate: the Department of Motor Vehicles.

"The entire thing was spawned and conceived while waiting in line at the DMV," Brinton said recently from Atlantic's headquarters in New York. "You see, the 'Bar Chord Ritual' is a title that has a lot of meaning to me. I play guitar on this record, the first time I've ever played on a recording. My whole last year has been spent trying to formulate songs and learning how to write songs. I didn't have the confidence; I didn't think I could write a song.

"One morning I was in line at the DMV and the song 'Prisoner,' which is the second song on the album, came to me in my head and I started making up stories about the people standing in line with me. When I got home - I have a four-track and I was daunted by it - I got my guitar out and wrote that song. That right from there started me playing my guitar."

It also tested his girlfriend's patience. She would return from work finding Brinton in the same spot as when she left.

"I would be on my back looking up at the ceiling, playing my guitar," Brinton said, laughing at his obsession. "That was every day for about three or four months. It sounds so cheeseball, but I was channeling music. That was my bar chord ritual, my primitive guitar playing."

It worked like a charm. "Bar Chord Ritual," produced by Dave Jerden (Jane's Addiction, Alice In Chains), is full of quick-bite choruses and intelligent verses and holds a melodic yet aggressive tone throughout.

And it doesn't hurt that Brinton and band members Michael Suzick (guitar), Tim Blankenship (bass) and Pat Hogan (drum) have a keen wit.

The blistering opening track, "Five More Minutes," has all the earmarks of an anthem for the weary workforce, those who have trouble waking up even to a snooze button in the morning and facing another grueling day at the salt mines.

"I wrote that for my girlfriend," Brinton said. "She and I both are chronically sleepy. I guess we have a problem actually getting up, and we tend to sleep really, really late all the time. She has a job and I have a job and we think, 'Let's lie in bed here and we'll call in (sick) again,' and we're looking at how many sick days we have left.

"Some people might call it laziness, but I just like to dream. I like that feeling of being in dreamland."

On another highlight, "Perhaps?," Brinton mocks rock artists who take themselves too seriously. "I grew up after the days when kids were forced to fight in wars," he sings, "maybe that's why we're so restless, we had a purpose but now we're bored. Perhaps it's something to think about, I'm not sure, I'm just in a band."

"So many people talk down to musicians," Brinton said. "I got some of that here in New York. I got invited to hang out with some people who were movers and shakers in the art world, and it was kind of like a novelty to have me along. It's like, 'Don't ask him anything because he can't talk. Look at him, he's kind of cute, but he's so sweaty and greasy, and look at those clothes.'

"Whenever there was a deep conversation, I wasn't solicited to participate, but on the other hand, there are a lot of musicians who take themselves superseriously and try to get these deep thoughts out and express them through their music. And I thought, 'It's true, you're only in rock 'n' roll.' It's not that great of an art form.

"Get over yourselves."

Matthew Ryan sends out 'Mayday' signals

(Sept. 11, 1997)

Artists get only one first record, and until it comes out and it's in CD bins, there are no certainties.

Singer-songwriter Matthew Ryan, raised in rural Chester, Pa., and now based in Nashville, is playing the waiting game for the Sept. 23 release of his debut A&M album, "Mayday."

"You're never too sure it's going to happen," Ryan said recently. "You can't get too excited, you can't get depressed, so you end up paralyzed. I don't know what I'm going to do when it's actually in the stores, I'm just sitting on my hands."

If there's any justice in the music business, Ryan would succeed beyond all expectations. "Mayday," produced by David Ricketts, is powerfully stark, drenched in poetic imagery. From the lead-off single "Guilty": "Here comes the razor of doubt, here comes the falling out. Here comes the wave and the turn, here comes the crash and burn. Here comes I'm sick of crying, here comes man I quit trying. Here comes I hate you and I'm giving back all that you gave to me."

That's intensely honest, moody stuff from a 25-year-old who has a voracious appetite for books, The Blue Nile and the guitar. Ryan said his feet are firmly planted because of a solid upbringing.

"I come from very humble people," he said. "They work very hard. They're very moderate, neither left nor right. Also, it's just understanding that anything's laughable in hindsight. You've always got to keep your head on straight.

"I tell you, even when I have gotten a half-swagger on me, I'm serious, if I'm walking down a street and I'm feeling cocky, I trip on the curb or a fly will hit me in the nose. Something will happen to make me check myself. Me and the universe have this weird thing going; I have to be humble otherwise weird s--- starts to happen."

Ryan's honesty extends to his image, or the lack thereof.

"A&M has been very aware, from the first time I met them, that I wanted to do things with integrity," he said. "I don't want to be mugging for a camera. We just did a video and it's not at all what you're used to seeing. I'm not saying you've never seen this kind of video before, but it's not me trying to seduce you through the television. It comes from being self-conscious, honestly."

A guy with personal songs, a weathered voice and a gritty guitar immediately gets lined up against the wall with Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen. Ryan is prepared for it.

"It's hard to be an American songwriter without sounding like those guys," he said. "I mean, they're the sidewalk and you have to crawl on it for a while. You put your hand in all those pies and you hope to come out with something that's yours, but that's a process."

Regardless of what happens, Ryan is proud of what he has accomplished.

"I think it's a great jumping off point for me," he said, "and God willing, I'll be able to make a bunch more records and go further."