by Deron Bissett
from Goldmine Magazine March 29, 1996
During his career, Todd Rundgren has demonstrated his talents as a singer, songwriter, guitarist, keyboardist, recording engineer, producer, concert performer, radio show host and technological innovator. He has produced 30 albums of his own music, as well as providing musical scores for three movie soundtracks, four television series and the New York performance of the Beatles' screenplay, Up Against It. His involvement in an additional 80 productions for other groups has contributed. to the success of a wide range of artists, from Badfinger, Grand Funk, XTC, and the Band to first-time efforts by Jesse Winchester, Michael Stanley, the New York Dolls and Jill Sobule.
That he has also contributed so much to the future of visual and technological creativity is an added measure of Rundgren's energy and talents. It was back in 1974, long before the idea would occur to most other musicians, that Rundgren first merged computer-generated electronic music, video images and rock 'n' roll on national television, and on tour with his band Utopia.
Among Rundgren's landmark achievements:
Rundgren has been labeled an enigma, a genius, a provocateur and a paradox. His fans regard him as a wizard, a true star. But he shuns the labels and the limelight of guaranteed success for the challenge of the future, and has achieved success in an ongoing focus on continuous innovation and evolution. Paul Fishkin of Bearsville Records, reflecting on Rundgren's penchant for defying classification, said that Rundgren is seeking success on his own terms.
Rundgren's take on his own muse is that his musical works are a reflection of his own personal odyssey.
Todd Rundgren was born in Philadelphia on June 22, 1948, and raised in Upper Darby, Pennsylvania, a middle class suburb near Philly. Rundgren's experience with the guitar began at an early age. He dabbled with father's guitar; occasionally, he played the guitar like a violin. Eventually Rundgren broke it trying to tune the guitar with a pair of pliers. So his parents purchased an inexpensive Japanese-made guitar for him at eight. The deal included guitar lessons. When lessons ran out, Rundgren continued to experiment with the guitar.
With little happening in school to warrant his attention, he instead focused his energy on music, and became immersed in Motown and Memphis soul sounds and the British Invasion, along with a rich mix of Philadelphia soul. Rundgren formed his first group, Money, at age 16. The band played the usual assortment of frat parties, high school competitions and a local canteen, on occasion dressed in Nehru jackets.
After graduating from high school in 1966 at 18, with no marketable skill except to the guitar, Rundgren headed for the New Jersey shore, where he settled in Wildwood, a resort town strewn with clubs and venues for new bands to market their talents. Rundgren met up with a local band, Woody's Truck Stop, which let him sit in and play backup guitar. The band found gigs around Philadelphia at the Second of Autumn, the Second Fret and. eventually, by 1967, the Electric Factory, a converted tire warehouse with a psychedelic light show installed.
In his nine months with the band, Rundgren developed his blues guitar-playing style as the backup player. The band members included Alan Miller (lead guitar), who distinguished himself in high school by refusing to cut his hair, thereby being confined to school-by-telephone, Bobby Radeloff (lead vocals), Kenny Radeloff (vocalist and organ), Carson Van Osten (bass) and Rundgren (second guitar).
One story surrounding Rundgren's involvement with Woody's Truck Stop relates how a local Philly high school wanted the band to play its senior prom. When the senior in charge of booking the band tracked Rundgren down at a makeshift rehearsal studio in a converted motorcycle shop, he made it clear to Rundgren that the band would have to wear ties in order to perform. On the night of the prom, Woody's Truck Stop played wearing ties, but minus shirts and jackets!
The band changed personnel regularly, going through some 23 members in a three-year period. When the band turned its focus to psychedelics, and thought about moving to the country to "get back to nature," Rundgren left to form his next band, the Nazz.
Rundgren selected the other members of his band from an assortment of local groups. Rundgren and Carson Van Osten knew each other from Woody's Truck Stop. (Van Osten had recently completed his degree at the Philadelphia College of Art.) Recruited to fill in the lineup were Robert "Stewkey" Antoni (lead singer and organ player from Elizabeth) and Thom Mooney, (drummer from the Munchkins). The quartet chose the Nazz for its name from a Yardbirds 45 flip side, "The Nazz Are Blue." In Mod slang of the day, Nazz was loosely translated as the ultimate.
The Nazz debuted in July 1967 at Town Hall in Philadelphia, opening for the Doors. The band also made an early appearance at the Philadelphia Folk Festival in August 1967. The tour program for the festival shows Rundgren nonchalantly poised on a motorcycle; another page shows the Nazz in four live cameo shots, one of each band member. They continued to play in Wildwood, sometimes with only peanut butter to eat and no place to sleep other than the floor of a club.
By the end of summer 1967, the Nazz got some financial backing from the owners of a Philly record store, Bartoff and Warfield. The band practiced extensively in a small apartment above the store. Eventually, Bartoff and Warfield contacted John Kurland, a record promoter who formerly worked with Barbra Streisand. Kurland was in Philly attending a Who concert, and Bartoff and Warfield convinced him to meet the band. On Labor Day 1967, the Nazz met Kurland at his home on Long Island. The band had the look, if not the sound Kurland sought, so he signed the Nazz to a management contract. They set up a studio in the basement of a rented house in Great Neck, New York, where they practiced extensively. The Nazz gigged less frequently at local Philly clubs like the Second of Autumn, and the Cheetah Club in New York City, but only when their managers let them appear.
Michael Friedman and John Kurland managed the group with the intent of building their image as fashionable pop-rockers. Dressed and coifed to the max, the band's appearances in local clubs were somewhat limited by the logic of their managers, who believed that less exposure increased their demand. As it turned out, the band practiced a lot, but actually appeared only at a few local clubs.
The Nazz produced four separate demos at an assortment of studios from late 1967 to early 1968, as they honed their sound for a record deal. Four demos have surfaced in the past 20 years on four different labels. Most of these songs were included in refined form on Nazz and Nazz Nazz. On the four demos are a series of rough mixes and versions of Nazz tunes played live in the studio, and two unreleased songs: "It Must Be Everywhere" and "Sidney's Lunch Box," credited to Stewkey.
The Nazz was signed by John Kurland arid Michael Friedman in June 1968 to Screen Gems/Columbia (SGC) Records, a subsidiary of Atlantic. The band received an advance of about $100,000. The promotion for the band's debut was formidable. A press kit, containing a promo poster, an eight-page bio, cartoon drawings of each band member and six photos of the band members represented hopes for a smash act to challenge the Boston and New York bands, including Ultimate Spinach, Beacon Street Union and the Velvet Underground. The album, titled simply Nazz, appeared in late August 1968. Its 10 songs reflected proficient and fresh playing, catchy tunes and a tip of the hat to a number of British influences, including the Yardbirds, Stones, Beatles and the Who. An unusual version the debut album was released with Rundgren counting into the opening cut, "Open My Eyes." This rare album variation is currently valued at $100.
In the U.S., promotion for Nazz succeeded in getting needed visibility for the band. 16 Magazine, Cash Box and Hullabaloo stressed aspects of the band's dress, hair and attitudes. Some articles spoke of the electricity the band emanated in its live performances. Others focused more on their attire, looks and vital statistics. The album sold moderately well, based upon the worldwide marketing of the band in Canada, Europe and Japan. In the U.K., New Musical Express, Variety, and Record Mirror hyped the first single, "Hello It's Me"/"Open My Eyes," as well as details on the band's talent in concert. Nazz peaked at #118 in Billboard in late 1968.
Nazz singles would eventually appear in eight foreign nations, including Britain, France, Belgium, Spain, Italy, Germany, Japan and Australia; several include picture sleeves which have become quite collectible.
The rarest Nazz single, "Under the Ice" (Japan), came with a photo that illustrated the band hanging on a jungle gym in a park (valued at $250. its rarity is legendary, even in Japan.)
In November 1968, the Nazz embarked on a trip to London to record their second LP. They met with difficulties in short order. Since John Lennon had been having trouble getting a visa to work in the U.S. over his anti-war activities, the British Musician's Union denied Nazz's request to record in the U.K. The union claimed that the band had misrepresented itself as an instrumental group when, in fact, the group actually both played and sang. So, after purchasing some British fashions, the Nazz returned to the U.S. with only one song, "Christopher Columbus," recorded.
Settling in at Regent Sound Studio in New York, the Nazz resumed recording of some 24 tracks, sufficient music for a two-record album. Its working title was Fungo Bat. Other cuts were mastered in Hollywood. It was to be a diverse collection consisting of romantic ballads ("Only One Winner"), tight rock songs ("Forget All About It") and expansive classical-oriented tunes ("A Beautiful Song"). The acetates of Fungo Bat reveal additional long blues pieces and one unique unreleased song, "Sing You a Song."
Rundgren also performed lead vocals on five songs; his vocal tracks were replaced by Stewkey's voice when Rundgren left the Nazz in 1969. Released in April 1969, the fragments of Fungo Bat became Nazz Nazz, a single LP. The songs "Not Wrong Long"/"Under the Ice" were released on a single.
The first issue of Nazz Nazz was pressed on red vinyl, followed by a more limited pressing on black vinyl and as a record club issue. The album peaked at #80 in May 1969.
The Nazz toured the East Coast and the South, reaching Dallas in summer 1969 to play at the Dallas International Pop Festival. (Led Zeppelin also appeared on the bill during their first American tour.) The Nazz's set was interrupted by rain and a less than adequate sound system. A few fans recall the band playing in New Orleans and Corpus Christi that year, with Rundgren still present on guitar.
Eventually, personality differences led to discord and low morale in the band. This led to the departure of the bass player, Carsen van Osten, followed by Rundgren. A tour band made up of Philly musicians Greg Simpler (bass) and Craig Bolan (guitar) joined with Stewkey and Mooney to finish out the tour of the Southwest states until mid-1970. Stewkey would persist for a number of months by linking with an Illinois-based band called Fuse.
(Stewkey and some members of Fuse later moved to Philadelphia and reconvened as Sick Man of Europe, which included future members of Cheap Trick. The group's demos would be bootlegged as Retrospective Foresight, a collection of tunes misrepresented as "Nazz outtakes.")
Van Osten eventually went to work for Walt Disney studios as an artist and comic book designer. Mooney also moved to California, where he played with Wally Bryson in Bamboo and, some time later, linked up with Rita Coolidge's band. A third album, Nazz III, was released in May 1971 as a collection of outtakes and remaining cuts from the Nazz Nazz sessions two years before. The single released, "Some People"/"Magic Me," appeared primarily as a white label promotion of Nazz III. Few stock copies of the latter were pressed, making it the rarer U.S. Nazz single, currently valued at $80. The Nazz was history.
Meanwhile, Rundgren began to learn the trade of production and engineering. Albert Grossman, manager of Janis Joplin and Bob Dylan, hired Rundgren as the resident engineer/producer for his management company, and provided a studio, Bearsville, in upstate New York for Rundgren to work. Rundgren engineered or produced a diverse group of local and West Coast bands: the American Dream, Jericho, Halfnelson, Janis Joplin, Libby Titus and a Tennessee artist named Jesse Winchester. As Rundgren's proficiency at mixing and recording improved, he was provided an opportunity to record his own LP.
Entitled Runt, the collection provided a single, "We Gotta Get You a Woman," that received wide airplay across the U.S., reaching #20 in Billboard in November 1970. The album contained hard rock ("Devil's Bite"), spacey experimental tunes ("There Are No Words") and love songs ("Believe in Me"). Runt sold only 50,000 units, but got favorable reviews. Rolling Stone complimented Rundgren for his engineering skills in its review of Runt in October 1970. A Crawdaddy reviewer saw Runt as "difficult to categorize, less for its limited complexities than its subtle eccentricities and stylized point of view."
The music reflected a white pop consciousness and a bluesy, wistful air. Three versions of the Ampex Runt were eventually pressed and issued. The most common version, pressed in May 1970, had 10 songs. But in November 1970, Ampex pressed a version with two additional songs, "Say No More" and "Hope I'm Around," and an extended version of "Baby Let's Swing" with a verse devoted to singer Laura Nyro. To complicate the matter even more, a few copies of a third version were pressed with just one extra song, "Say No More," on side two in late 1970. The version with two extra cuts is currently valued at $60 and the one-extra cut version at $75, respectively, based upon rarity. Bearsville reissued Runt in 1971 with the original 10-song pressing on the Bearsville label.
Rundgren signed a recording contract with Bearsville Records in 1971, to be distributed by Warner Brothers. That year, he began recording his next album for Ampex/Bearsville at Bearsville studio in Woodstock, New York. Titled The Ballad of Todd Rundgren, the cover portrayed Rundgren in a solitary mood, sitting forlornly at the piano with a hangman's noose around his neck. The music reflected a romantic artist infused with a tone of irony and mischief. Released as singles were "Be Nice to Me" (Ampex 10002), followed by "A Long Time, A Long Way to Go" (Ampex 10004).
A curious variation of the second single was created with an alternate flip, "Long Flowing Robe," on a few hundred promotional copies. Intended as a promotional coup to encourage airplay, the idea bombed, as neither song reached the ears of the AM radio community. In an ironic twist, Bearsville Records' promotion coordinator Marc Nathan and the Bearsville staff flew most of the alternate singles out the second story window of a rented house, thus creating more scarce collectors items in those few discs that remained in radio station archives. Only three copies are known to have survived destruction. Ballad sold only 15,000 units, amid ecstatic reviews in Rolling Stone and Rock, the lowest-selling album on Rundgren's career.
Runt was primarily a studio group. For a brief tour with the band called Runt, Rundgren recruited Tony Sales and N.D. Smart to support him at several gigs. Tommy Cosgrove and Stu Woods, two blues players, and Marc Klingman joined Rundgren on the tour. One of the concerts was broadcast live by WMMR from Sigma Sound Studio on June 30, 1971. It was to be his first of 28 live concerts simulcast over radio waves in the next 20 years.
The band was not flashy, but lyrically strong and melodic, according to Fusion magazine that year. Patti Smith assessed Rundgren's music as a personal statement, a solo vision, in a review in Rock Magazine in July 1971. Rundgren continued to engineer and produce artists for Bearsville and Capitol Records, including the James Cotton Blues Band, Moogy Klingman, Badfinger (Straight Up) and the Band (Stage Fright).
Meanwhile, Rundgren continued to play and produce his own music. He had been in the studio for most of 1971. According to Rundgren, the forthcoming album was about "what that experience (of recording music) does to your head." The 23 songs, recorded at the Record Plant in New York, became a two-record set for Bearsville, which was to become his musical tour-de-force for its variety, creativity and musicianship. Titled Something/Anything?, it would become Rundgren's largest-selling album. The leadoff single, "I Saw the Light," was promoted with a light blue vinyl version. In all, Something/Anything? generated four singles: "Hello It's Me", "I Saw the Light", "Wolfman Jack" and "Couldn't I Just Tell You." The fiery guitar tune, "Black Maria," was included on a 1972 three-song EP in the U.K.
The album was marketed in the music press with a picture of Rundgren holding a stick of dynamite, with a challenge: "Go Ahead, Ignore Me." Radio stations and record stores received special versions of the album pressed in a translucent red and blue vinyl, encouraging airplay. (These very limited pressings are now valued at $250.) Rundgren also produced a promotional album, The Todd Rundgren Radio Show to provide an audio history of his musical career (it's valued at $200.) Something/Anything? peaked at #29 in Billboard in summer 1972.
Rundgren began touring to support Something/Anything? in April 1972. For five shows, Rundgren opened for Alice Cooper, for two shows, Van Morrison, and for other stops on the tour, the Jeff Beck Group. His backup band was a six-member mime group, the Hello People. The reviews of the show were mixed, with Rundgren being characterized as loose, entertaining and likeable. High regard for Rundgren's guitar playing was evident. But in Boston, he was booed off the stage by overzealous Jeff Beck fans. The album went gold in February 1975, having sold 500,000 units on the strength and variety of the songs.
In late 1972, Rundgren returned to the newly-built Secret Sound Studio in New York City to begin production of his next album. Titled A Wizard, A True Star, it was a substantial departure from the expectations of the rock world for another Something/Anything? Rundgren designed the surrealistic album cover from a cryptic painting he saw in a gallery window on a New York street. Rundgren explained the departure as "the first time that I reflected truly personal attitudes in terms of things that I like to hear."
The album was labeled as radical, bizarre and eclectic by a number of reviewers. Fans heard the music differently. "Todd Rundgren is a wizard, (the reviewer) is a doorknob," commented a fan in Rolling Stone. Patti Smith called Rundgren's new music, "Rock and Roll for the Skull" in Circus magazine. Wizard was released in March 1973, and sold 150,000 units, peaking at #86 in Billboard. A curious variation of the album cover was released in Holland, printed with a lime green cover, with graphics that were color complements of the U.S. album cover. This Dutch variation of Wizard is now valued at $75.
In 1973, Rundgren found time to tour with a new band, including Moogy Klingman (organ), David Mason (bass), M. Frog, aka Jean Yves Labat (Moog synthesizer) and the Sales brothers. Initially marketed as Todd Rundgren's Utopia, they soon shortened their name to Utopia.
On tour, Rundgren's hair was now tinted in a variety of colors, which did not go unnoticed by fans and reviewers along the tour. It elicited strong reactions both ways. Observed in Chicago that year, sporting flashy clothes, the band members were visibly awesome. "Jean Yves Labat is sporting a bright lime green 'do, Hunt Sales has had his sharply skunked, his brother Tony's (Sales) is day-glo pink, while Todd's is every color they have a name for and then some." (Creem, Nov. 1974)
In concert, Utopia concentrated on the theatrical element in the performances. Initially, the tour was to run for three weeks. Tour dates included Philadelphia, C.W. Post College on Long Island, Buffalo, New York, Cleveland, Ohio (where they played live in the studio over WMMS-FM), Cincinnati (another live simulcast on WKRQ), Massey Hall in Toronto, Canada, and Chicago at Crown Erie. The tour was cut short due to technical factors, because of the weakening of Rundgren's voice. "I was going to pull it off the road anyway to get some technical things together. But once I pulled it off I got to thinking. I decided that I didn't want to be just another glitter rocker. I didn't want to be considered another standard rock 'n' roll act. We got mixed response to the show, but a lot of the old fans were shocked and frightened, so I decided I'd have to smarten 'em up a little... bring them around to a different attitude... to reeducate my audience." (Rolling Stone, 8/16/73).
Rundgren also found time in 1973 to produce a number of other bands, including the Hello People, Moogy Klingman, Fanny, the New York Dolls and Grand Funk. Of those experiences, Rundgren's reflections on the New York Dolls were ambivalent: "The Dolls were the first of a whole set of New York groups who were springing up at the time, and I felt that as their album was the first, and therefore, most important product to come from that whole scene, it better be at least half-decent ... and I succeeded. The Dolls themselves were only barely capable of a half-decent effort anyway. I always had to keep the first take that wasn't literally offensive to the ears, and that first album was in fact more than half-decent." (NME, 9/14/74)
The combination of drug abuse in the band, a management that did not support the band's image in New York, and insistence by the band that it participate in Rundgren's final mixing of the album all led to a less than ideal working situation for Rundgren.
The Grand Funk production experience was more satisfying to Rundgren. He was interested in the We're an American Band project because the band had received less than adequate production in the past, and had been the focus of poor reviews among music critics for their muddled mix on previous albums. So Rundgren agreed to produce the band. His recollection of Grand Funk was that of a professional band that had written the songs for the album and practiced them extensively before entering the studio to record the album. The result was a successful production of a highly listenable album with solid musicianship that sold well, earning a gold record in 1973.
Bearsville had agreed to re-release Rundgren's two Ampex albums as a two-fer budget album called Todd Rundgren's Rack Job. All that emerged from the Rack Job idea was a cover slick, a photograph of Rundgren roaming the sultry streets of New York in summer. But the project was not to be completed. It was not until 1987 that Runt and Ballad would be reissued on vinyl and compact disc in the United States.
Rundgren's next album, titled Todd, required some negotiating with Warners, his record company. Warners had wanted a single album -- the energy shortage had made vinyl an expensive commodity. Rundgren had produced enough new music for a two-record set. Warners proposed to cull some hits from the Todd masters, and release them as a single LP, holding the balance for a later LP. Rundgren held fast, negotiating with Warners for the original format, and eventually won his double LP. In exchange, Rundgren offered an album of new material from a new band.
But it became more and more difficult negotiating with the record company. Todd was released on February 14, 1974. The album included a computer graphic of Rundgren, composed of the names of all the fans who sent in a postcard included in the A Wizard, A True Star album the year before. Todd contained elements of his early hits like "A Dream Goes On Forever" (romantic ballad), "Izzat Love" (a sugary love song which Rundgren refused to release as a single), along with complex electronic experiments like "Everybody's Going To Heaven" and the down dirty blues tune, "Number 1 Lowest Common Denominator." Sales were good, but not brisk. Todd would peak at #54, and would eventually sell 200,000 units.
Rundgren offered a new LP of material in October 1974 by his reconfigured version of Todd Rundgren's Utopia. He reasoned that his voice would be better supported by a group that could assist on vocals, allowing him the flexibility to devote his energy to theatrics and guitar playing. The new configuration of Utopia included Moogy Klingman (organ and vocals) and members of his band, the Rhythm Kings: Ralph Schuckett (keyboards and vocals), John Siegler (bass and vocals), and Kevin Ellman (drums and vocals) and Jean Yves Labat (Moog), who had released a synthesizer album on Bearsville in 1973.
The first tour date of the second Utopia tour was Vermillion, South Dakota. On this tour, Rundgren opened with a solo set, playing selections from the Todd album. After intermission, the Utopia band played new material from the Utopia album, including the "Utopia Theme," "Freedom Fighters," "Freak Parade" and "The Ikon." Playing music that combined expansive classical movements, complex harmonies and Utopian themes, Utopia was compared by some to Yes, by others to Mahavishnu Orchestra. The Utopia album reached #34 in Billboard in November 1974.
By late that year, the rainbow of hair colors was gone, according to Rundgren, "for practical reasons, for now." Roger Powell would replace the jazz-focused and increasingly erratic M. Frog Labat on synthesizers in October 1974. Powell had released Cosmic Furnace on Atlantic Records in 1973, an innovative solo album on which he demonstrated his mastery of electronic composition with his "Fourneau Cosmique - the alchemical furnace of Cleopatra." Powell was respected for his creativity in the development of synthesized music on ARP and Moog, and recognized for his proficiency in-playing a variety of synthesizers in harmony. The Utopia band began a tour of the United Kingdom in October 1975; the band played five concerts at concert halls across Britain, including one at Hammersmith Odeon on October 9, 1975 that was recorded live for the BBC Rock Hour. British reviews were very positive, as Rundgren's musicianship, humor and theatrics entertained the U.K. fans. During the U.K. tour, Rundgren's candid and outspoken remarks on the state of contemporary music, and the decline of rock music in particular, were printed in a number of U.K. music publications, raising the ire of a handful of British music critics and the avid interest of a growing number of U.K. fans.
Songs recorded live in 1974-75 at several U.S. and Canadian concerts were released as the band's next album, Another Live, in 1975. A highlight of the album, "The Seven Rays," reflected in its lyrics the Utopian optimism:
"Red - the ruler seeking freedom; Gold - the father seeking unity; Orange the thinker seeking understanding; Yellow - the poet seeking harmony; Green - the scientist seeking truth; Blue - the disciple seeking goodness; Indigo - the artist seeking beauty." -- "The Seven Rays" (1974)
The British version of Another Live was designed with a cover photograph of Rundgren playing live onstage from the first U.K. tour. This album variation is currently valued at $45.
Initiation, Rundgren's solo production for 1975, was marketed by Bearsville with a flyer inserted in promo copies which conveyed the message to "stand up for what you believe in." The first single, "Real Man," became a success after Utopia's appearance on The Midnight Special in 1975. Rundgren also sang a mantra-like solo meditation, "Born to Synthesize," in another segment of the show. "Real Man" became a Top 40 AM hit in Cleveland, and was played on FM radio in other U.S. markets, including Boston, Philadelphia, and New York.
Upon the departure of Kevin Ellman, Rundgren recruited John "Willie" Wilcox, a jazz-focused drummer who he knew from Hall and Oates's War Babies, recording session. Ellman had left to pursue his Buddhist faith. Moogy Klingman left the band in fall 1975 to produce Bette Midler. Then Ralph Schuckett resigned. Rundgren selected three backup singers, led by a then-unknown Luther Vandross, to beef up the vocal support.
Rundgren's solo release of 1976, Faithful, was a mix of melodic and diverse songs, with one side devoted to cover versions of Hendrix, Beach Boys, Yardbirds and Dylan tunes, and a side of diverse original tunes which were straightforward and honest. It became traditional for Rundgren to play "Love of the Common Man" and "Cliché" from Faithful at live shows well into the 1980s. The plain white cover represented a spartan strategy that was utilized on the tour that year, as Utopia played in white, loose outfits, thereby focusing more attention to the music. "Black and White" and "When I Pray" were highlights of the Utopia tour that year. John Siegler left the band in 1976 to get married.
Later in 1976, Utopia produced a series of instrumental tunes for a project entitled, Disco Jets. The collection of songs included an expansive musical piece, "Mad Men and Metal Machines" driven by Roger Powell's synthesizers and harmonic vocals. The project was not finalized for release, and has becomes somewhat of a mystery among Utopia fans.
By their second visit to the U.K. in August 1976 to play at the Knebworth Festival, the Utopia band had attracted a number of fans to the Utopian ideal, and raised the eyebrows of some acerbic U.K. reviewers. The critics did not know what to make of Rundgren, whose theatrical antics onstage and strong philosophical views in the British music press were viewed by some critics as both confrontational and quirky. Rundgren's criticism of the solo Beatles' recent music and John Lennon in particular had fed the controversy surrounding Rundgren's views during and after the 1975 tour. Lennon's tongue-in-cheek response to Rundgren's comments in Melody Maker [see sidebar] had fed the fire.
So a wide range of curious, devoted and amused fans flocked to Knebworth on August 21, 1976. Other bands playing that day included 10cc, Lynyrd Skynyrd and the Rolling Stones. Utopia performed a rousing set of tunes from Faithful, and their upcoming album, Ra. The Utopia set at Knebworth was enthusiastically reviewed by Pete Makowski in Sounds.
A most ambitious set and sound, the album Ra took the Utopian band to a more technological level. Rundgren described Ra as a "soundtrack to a pyramid stage show." A large 18-foot golden sphinx, affectionately named Maurice by the band, was the backdrop for Utopia on the road. Incorporating an Egyptian motif, the band played unique instruments ranging from an Ankh-shaped guitar to a Probe (hand-held) synthesizer keyboard, designed by Roger Powell, which controlled five synthesizers located offstage. The $2 million stage show was well-received by a growing number of fans, enamored by the Egyptian stage set, and kinetic atmosphere generated by the band. The newly configured Utopia included bassist Kasim Sulton (a studio engineer who sang with the New York City band Cherry Vanilla), Willie Wilcox and Roger Powell.
Utopia highlighted the Ra Tour with a series of four Japanese shows in December 1976. Rundgren was profiled and interviewed by that country's Music Life for its December 1976 issue. Utopia would return to Japan in January 1979 during the Adventures World Tour, and several times during the 1980s and '90s. The Japanese continue to be strong supporters of Utopia, as reflected in a fan-sponsored publication, One World, currently at issue #30.
Rundgren and Utopia began a European tour on January 11, 1977, playing shows in Sweden, France, Germany and Holland. While in Germany, Utopia played a concert live at the Rockpalast, which was transmitted across western Europe on public television. Utopia played dates in the U.K. on four college campuses in late January, beginning at Oxford Polytech on January 25th. That lively concert showcasing the Ra album was recorded and aired in December 1977 on the BBC Rock Hour.
The band also played at the Glasgow Apollo, and in London at the New Victoria Theater. A reviewer of the New Victoria shows in New Musical Express highlighted Rundgren's humor and animated performances on melodic tunes from Wizard and Faithful, but was chagrined with the bombastic emissions of the band as Utopia played songs from the "blitzkrieg bog" of Ra. Witnessed in the lobby during the two shows were members of the Sex Pistols and the Damned, "looking bored." (NME, February 12, 1977).
Rundgren produced a debut album, Bat out of Hell, by a large Texan named Meat Loaf in 1977. Rundgren was amazed when the album went gold, then platinum, then platinum again and again and again. To date, Bat out of Hell has reportedly sold 23 million albums worldwide, certainly Rundgren's most successful production and one of the best-selling albums of all time, despite its peak position of #14 upon its initial release.
Oops! Wrong Planet followed in the fall of 1977. A balanced mix of songs from all of the band members, Oops! was described by Roger Powell as "an Armageddonish earth-on-the-skids opera." Kasim Sulton's vocals added dimension to the band's sound on "The Martyr." Powell stepped out on "Abandon City." Rundgren reprised a bluesy growl in "Love in Action" and "Trapped." Recently reissued on a Mobile Fidelity Ultradisc, it retains its power pop/Blade Runner ambience.
In March 1978, Rundgren produced a strong album of melodic songs and angst-heavy tunes, Hermit of Mink Hollow. He reflected at the time that after touring with Utopia for two years, he was inclined to take a break from the band to record a solo record on which he played all of the instruments. Rather than reflect a theme, the album included high harmonic tunes ("All the Children Sing"), intensely emotional songs ("Too Far Gone") and defiant anthems ("Determination"). Hermit was promoted with the single "Can We Still Be Friends." The song would be covered by Colin Blunstone (1979), Robert Palmer (1979) and Rod Stewart (1984). The Canadian versions of Hermit were pressed in both red and green vinyl, making these pressings collectible at $25 today.
Later in 1978, Rundgren was asked by Paul Fishkin, Bearsville Records president, if he would be interested in re-recording a collection of his previous songs live in the studio as a survey of his musical career. Rundgren responded with an alternative plan to record the songs live on the road in venues like the Bottom Line in New York and the Roxy in L.A. for a retrospective album. The product of those shows was released as the two-album Back to the Bars. A reprise of the Nazz song "Hello It's Me" became a hit for the third time.
Rundgren was joined by Stevie Nicks and Hall and Oates at the Roxy in L.A. that spring for a simulcast on the King Biscuit Flower Hour. Several of the tour shows were broadcast over local radio links and via national radio. Rundgren and Utopia traveled to the U.K. in December 1978 to play a week-long engagement at the London Venue. One of the concerts was to be broadcast throughout the U.K. over BBC Radio, another was to be broadcast in Europe via Radio Luxembourg, and a third was to be televised internationally. (Rolling Stone, 4/5/79). Due to a dispute with the British Musician's Union, however, these Back to the Bars shows were not broadcast by the BBC. Rundgren filed suit in 1979 disputing the union action and the suit was settled in 1982.
Rundgren and Utopia returned again to the U.K. in August 1979 to play two shows at the Knebworth Festival. Other artists appearing were the Commander Cody Band, Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes and Led Zeppelin. Utopia received an enthusiastic reception from the concert-goers, playing music from Oops! Wrong Planet as well as popular songs from Utopia and Faithful.
In 1979, Rundgren and Utopia played a benefit for the Vietnamese boat people at the International Relief Committee (IRC) Concert in New York. He would take part in a dozen benefits for environmental, voter registration and humanitarian causes over the next 12 years.
The next Utopia album, Adventures in Utopia (1980), took the best elements of the Ra Tour and turned them into an extended road trip with Utopia. The tour and heavy promotion produced three singles, and three videos on the newly-burgeoning MTV: "Set Me Free," "You Make Me Crazy" and "Love Alone." Utopia made several appearances on television, including the Mike Douglas and John Davidson variety shows. Adventures reached #32 on the Billboard chart by mid-1980, making Adventures Utopia's most successful album. A limited Australian album variation pressed on red vinyl has become a scarcity, valued at $100.
Rundgren produced a variety of artists in the late 1970s, including Hall and Gates, Patti Smith, Tom Robinson Band, Rick Derringer and the Tubes. Rundgren reflected on some of his varied production duties: "To be at the helm of some of those crazed Nazi ghost ships sometimes is a heavy responsibility." (Collage, Sept. 1980). Riding the success of the Ra and Adventures tours, Utopia played a concert in November 1979 that was recorded and later distributed by the NBC Source Radio Network to radio stations for broadcast on January 1, 1980 as the "First Concert of the Decade."
Ever prolific, Rundgren designed a parody on the Beatles, with a set of heavily British songs, in October 1980, titled Deface the Music. The inspiration for the album originated when Utopia was asked to provide a song for a movie, Roadie. When the song "I Just Want To Touch You" was considered "too Beatlesque," and not used, the band was inspired to create an entire album of '60s/British-style tunes. For the tour, members of Utopia dressed in Beatlesque attire, and played like the Fab Four. The tongue-in-cheek effort was humorously received by fans on the tour. The single, "I Just Want To Touch You," appeared around the world. The Australian release of the single was pressed on light blue vinyl, with a blue wrap-around sleeve - a rare version, today valued at $40. Utopia played a Halloween 1980 concert promoting the Deface the Music album, which was broadcast across the entire United States live.
The Japanese release of "I Just Want To Touch You" from Deface has an unusual picture insert that superimposes the heads of band members on Beatle-era suits. Powell's head appears twice: once with short hair, and once with a Prince Valiant cut. In addition, Willie Wilcox is conspicuously absent on the sleeve, a comical oversight. For his next solo effort, in early 1981, Rundgren produced a set of songs which focused on a theme of personal choice and philosophical insight, called Healing, which met with some controversy by elements of the Christian right that year. From Healing came the single "Tiny Demons." "Time Heals," an innovative video which combined computer images imposed with live human actions, received heavy airplay on MTV. In Europe, the single "Compassion" was popular in Spain and Holland.
Rundgren produced an autobiographical video, The Ever Popular Tortured Artist Effect. The video was eventually released on Passport Video in 1983, along with a retrospective video collection, and a live Utopia concert from 1981 at the Royal Oak Theater in Detroit.
Swing to the Right (1982) was a pop collection of tunes that addressed the '80s indulgences head on. It was initially rejected by Bearsville, which wanted a more Rundgren-sounding album. Rundgren insisted on defending the album as a band effort. An agreement was reached whereby the Swing to the Right album would be released as a Utopia album, releasing Utopia from the Bearsville label. Rundgren agreed to produce two additional solo albums. The single releases from Swing, "One World" and "Hideaway," got extensive FM play that summer.
A cover song from Swing, "For the Love of Money" (the O'Jays hit), carries an interesting anecdote. Joe Tarsia, producer at Sigma Sound Studio in Philadelphia, commented in a 1992 interview that "For the Love of Money" utilized bass licks and drum and vocal effects that were inspired by Rundgren during the 1968 recording of Nazz. "He was the instigator for me to record 'For the Love of Money' the way I did... Some day I'd like to tell him, 'You didn't copy the O'Jays. You copied yourself,'" Tarsia commented. (Philadelphia Daily News, 8/14/92).
Rundgren visited the U.K. in March 1982 to play a set at Whistle Test Studio, following settlement of the Musician Union dispute. In April 1982, Rundgren returned to the U.K. for a tour of small clubs, marketed as the "Man and His Piano" tour. The concert, which reprised songs from Something/Anything? to Swing to the Right, received very good press reviews, and Rundgren was interviewed in the British press and by the BBC.
In New Musical Express, Rundgren reflected on his own lifestyle: "I think that the things I'm involved in, the kind of things that I do, and the ideas that I have, are as accessible and as fascinating as anyone's in music. It's not my loss if no one discovers it. I'm living it all the time. I have more important priorities. By the time people discover where I am, if they ever do, I'll be someplace else anyway. So it's more important to me that I evolve rather than crystallize to the point where everyone goes, 'Oh, yes, I understand now.' If I crystallize so that they understand, I will have lost something that is of prime importance to me." (NME, April 24, 1982).
Utopia negotiated a new contract with the Network Label in 1982. The band soon delivered a new album of songs simply titled Utopia; fans know the album as the "Network Album." Promoted well, the album reached #84 on the Billboard albums chart, and produced two singles, "Feet Don't Fail Me Now" and "Hammer in My Heart." The marketing effort by Network led to a substantial road show, but Network could not continue as a record company after this album release, and Utopia found itself without a record company again.
Utopia signed with the Passport label for its next three albums: Oblivion (1983), POV (1984) and Trivia (1985). From Oblivion came "Crybaby," a futuristic doomsday video which received airplay on MTV. From POV came "Mated," a love song. An unreleased song, "Man of Action," appeared as the B-side in the U.K. The POV acronym's meaning elicited a variety of possible options, from "Point of View" to "Persistence of Vision." Utopia continued to tour the U.S. to promote the Passport albums. Trivia, a compilation album, included two unreleased songs, "Fix Your Gaze" (a powerful guitar-driven rocker) and "Monument," a love anthem.
Rundgren's next solo album reflected in its title his growing disenchantment with record companies; he called it The Ever Popular Tortured Artist Effect. Rundgren released "Bang the Drum All Day" as the single, a song he dreamed in his sleep. It turned out to be another of Rundgren's most popular songs. Utopia toured extensively throughout the U.S. from 1982-84.
Rundgren utilized computer-generated rhythms and human voices on his next solo effort, A Cappella, in 1985. Initially held up by Bearsville, the album was bootlegged before Warner Brothers agreed to release it as the final product due under Rundgren's extended contract with Bearsville. "Something To Fall Back On" was released as the single in both 7-inch and 12-inch versions in the U.S. and the U.K. "Johnny Jingo" was released with a unique picture sleeve in Germany. On tour, an "11-Voice Orchestra," a group of talented professional singers, provided the rhythms and vocals, with minimal musical accompaniment. One A Cappella show was recorded and broadcast on the King Biscuit Flower Hour in late 1985.
In 1987, Rhino Records began reissuing all of Rundgren's catalog on vinyl and compact disc. In all, 23 albums, many long out-of-print, were made available to fans again. Included were the rare Nazz LPs, the Ampex solo, albums, all of Rundgren's Bearsville releases and Utopia's albums. The Japanese Music Magazine profiled Rundgren's musical archives in October 1987. A special issue of the Japanese Record Collector Magazine profiled Rundgren's collectible memorabilia in February-March, 1988.
In the late 1980s, Rundgren produced or played on musical products by artists including Jim Steinman, the Psychedelic Furs, XTC, Jules Shear, and Laura Nyro. He contributed songs to tribute albums for Thelonious Monk and Kurt Weill.
Rundgren became focused once again on recording live music. For his next album, Nearly Human (1989), Rundgren convened a group of singers for a series of recording sessions to be produced and recorded live in the studio. The album generated three singles, including "The Want of a Nail" (with Bobby Womack), "Can't Stop Running" (a song Rundgren composed as an Olympic Games tune), and "Parallel Lines," a song from the musical Up Against It, based upon the screenplay for the unreleased Beatles' third film by Joe Orton. The Nearly Human Tour was well-attended by Rundgren's network of fans, who supported the upbeat atmosphere, harmonic vocals, and spirited playing of the tour band.
In 1991, Rundgren returned to the live recording approach with his album Second Wind. Rundgren's tour that year showcased his affinity for theater and live harmonies. An imaginative video, "Change Myself," superimposed computer-generated graphics with human actions and was aired on VH-1.
Utopia reunited in May 1992 for a brief tour which took them to Japan in June for a Utopia Redux Tour. The Tokyo concert was released by Rhino on CD, as well as on video and laserdisc. The kinetic performance showcased the band's precise timing and strong vocal harmonies as they opened with "Fix Your Gaze," and moved quickly through "Windows," "Trapped" and a reprise of songs from the seven Utopia albums which showcased the band's talents in live performance.
Later in summer 1992, Rundgren joined Ringo Starr and his All Starr Band on the road for a number of shows. Members of the band at various shows included Joe Walsh, Burton Cummings, Dave Edmunds, Nils Lofgren and some special guests, including Kasim Sulton at the Waterloo Village, New Jersey show. Rundgren showcased his guitar prowess on his screaming rendition of "Black Maria," and a lively version of "Bang the Drum."
Rundgren signed with Rhino Records' Forward label in 1992 and produced a set of powerful songs which combined rap, hard rock and rhythmic electronic motifs. Titled No World Order, this interactive compact disc was a dramatic departure from the mainstream of 1990s rock. Rundgren produced an interactive CD-i version of NWO (the first of its kind), which allowed the listener to select from a variety of song options and sequences while listening to the CD-i. Rundgren toured the U.S., Europe and Japan for much of 1993-94. Rhino released three singles, "Property," "Fascist Christ" and "Day Job." "Day Job" was also released in an unusual variation as a 12-inch dance single. In a 1993 interview in Seconds, Rundgren reflected that he is in the process of "aggressive personal evolution."
In August 1994, Rundgren set up an interactive technological tent, christened the "Todd Pod," on site at the Woodstock '94 festival in New York. He played a series of 10 shows, until the rainy weather forced his act to cancel the last four presentations. But those who caught the shows enjoyed the performances, which included dancer Michelle Gray and guitarist Jesse Gress at some of the shows, as well as the interactive video messages. In 1995, Rundgren released The Individualist, his most recent solo album, on the Pony Canyon label in Japan. The Individualist was released in the U.S. on cassette last September. An "enhanced CD" version of the album was released in December 1995, which allowed listeners to experience video versions of the songs, and to select alternate versions and sequences of the songs.
In 1995 RUndgren released The Individualist, his most recent solo alum, on the Pony Canyon label in Japan. The Individualist was released in the U.S. on cassette last September. An enhanced CD version of the ablum was released in December 1995, which allowed listeners to experience video versions of the songs, and to select alternate versions and sequences of the songs.
In the 1990s, Rundgren has produced or arranged music by artists including Hiroshi Takano, the Pursuit of Happiness, Paul Shaffer, Jill Sobule, and Meat Loaf.
A two-CD collection of Rundgren's songs performed by other musicians, Still There's More, was released by Third Lock Records in 1995. This collection was a follow-up to the fan-generated tribute CD, For the Love of Todd, released by Third Lock in 1991.
After extensive Japanese and U.S. tours last summer, Rundgren began making arrangements to build a recording studio in Hawaii. He is taking a hiatus from touring to devote energy to his computer and technological interests. His radio show, "The Difference", is currently broadcast weekly over 35 radio stations nationwide. Rhino Records is currently compiling a collection of Rundgren's rare recordings for a retrospective boxed set scheduled for release this summer.
Goldmine: In your first formal rock group, the Nazz, you apparently did a lot of practicing. Was that the result of your limited visibility, or of seeking a record deal?
Todd Rundgren: In those days, there weren't home studios, and if you wanted to get signed, you had to do it on the basis of your performance skills. The only break is that you didn't have to sing the vocals at the same time. Most people who went into the studio to make a demo had to be able to perform the song. The Nazz, when we first got together, had to rehearse over a record store on Chestnut Street in Philadelphia. We were managed, in a manner of speaking, by the men who owned the record store. They were real nice to us, and gave us the space above the record store to practice in.
I would say that we did a reasonable amount of practicing. The material we first started out with was often used as a springboard for some kind of jamming thing. Songs became free works for extended jams. But as time went on, we started evolving a little bit more of an actual song style. We actually were not on an aggressive "let's go get a record contract" campaign. We thought it would be nice, but we really thought we had to win that opportunity though our performances. We got discovered before I think we were ready to make that move. And it was more or less on the basis of our looks.
In other words, the guy had not actually heard us play. Me and Thom Mooney were hanging around in a bar after a Who concert in Philadelphia, and this guy was looking for a band. He was actually the publicist for the Mamas and the Papas, who oddly enough were sharing the bill with the Who. And he just thought we had the look. So he started with the look and then the next day came to hear us play in our little rehearsal space, and he thought we had a serviceable sound.
Was that Michael Friedman or [Nazz manager] John Kurland?
John Kurland, with Michael Friedman with him, came to hear us play. Anyway, from that point, we got this Zvengali treatment; they took a lot of control on where we played and how many times we played. So if we played at all, it was doing a lot of rehearsing. And we started doing the rounds of studio demos. We did some demos independently, to get some people initially interested. And they were engineered by Chris Andersen in some little studio he was using somewhere. And we essentially went through a lot of the stuff we did live. I don't even recall if the vocals were overdubbed, or whether they were done live. One time, I think they literally were performed in the studio.
And I recall we went to a couple of places and worked with several engineers on a few occasions.
Nazz demo discs are from Atlantic Recording Studio, Columbia Records and National Recording Studios in New York.
The discs could have been recorded on tape at one studio and cut elsewhere, mastered and relabeled at another studio. We didn't have to do a terrible amount of demoing. We did maybe a total of four demos for various labels.
There were actually songs on the demos that didn't appear on the albums.
Some were songs that weren't originals. When we came to doing the records, we never did songs that weren't originals.
There was a song on the Atlantic Nazz demo that Stewkey apparently wrote, "Sidney's Lunch Box," that didn't appear on the first Nazz LP (1968).
That may not have evolved into anything, or that may have been the working title for something. Some of it was extemporaneous goofing around. By the second album, we were comfortable enough in the studio to just sort of goof around in the basement.
Rhino Records is working on a Todd Rundgren Rarities Box and they are interested in the rare demos that are available. Gary Peterson at Rhino is doing a formidable job of assembling it.
I've located something for him. I was looking for the missing reel for A Wizard, A True Star and found a song that was relatively fully-produced that never made it to the record because it was too sappy. I still think it's sappy but it has all of these background vocals that make it interesting.
Your early experiences with Woody's Truck Stop, American Dream and those early bands extend back to 1965. In a concert program for the Philadelphia Folk Festival there is a photograph of you sitting on a motorcycle, and on another page, the phrase, "NAZZ -- What are they doing here?" with pictures of the Nazz band members in the program. Were you aware of that?
No, but I think we may have played the Philadelphia Folk Festival in 1967.
At one time (1984), you guest-DJed on the Rolling Stone Magazine radio show. More recently, you're a DJ in your own right on your syndicated radio show, "The Difference". Do you have a fondness for working in that context, or do you find that to be some form of distraction?
Promoting to radio is not a fondness so much as a reality. Everyone does it at some stage of their life, usually early on in their career, and sporadically later on in their career trying to promote something. A couple of shows were fun, like Rockline, a national call-in show where people called in from all over the nation. The shows that are professionally-handled are fun. But often locally you get a DJ who doesn't give a damn. He's been there forever, and has seen everybody who has come through town, so that often can be humiliating. But in terms of being a DJ, the appeal of that is to expose listeners to music that you think they should hear, and protect them from music that you don't think is worthwhile. In "The Difference", I need to be comfortable with what goes on the show. That's the more appealing part.
Could you elaborate on some of those artists that you would like to hear on the radio?
Artists that I've heard once on the radio, or not at all but that I discovered through another channel, all varieties of music. It's kind of fun to discover hip-hop artists, and other artists that are out of character that don't get played, and a Cinco de Mayo show that allows us to play Tito Puente or St. Patrick's Day... Irish music. Some of the music we play is far off the beaten path, as long as we conform to a level of thematic integrity.
In an interview about 10 years ago, you referred to the "institutionalization of technology" for creative purposes. Obviously you were far ahead on linkages between technology and music. Do you still feel that technology is a key tool to improve the quality of music or do you believe that "organic" music is preferable?
To me, organic means saxophone, stand-up bass and drums, and no amp at all. There's a lot of subjective latitude in what some folks consider to be organic.
But you tend to balance the high-tech and the quality recording strategy with a real clean natural mix. What allows you to get that fine tone and quality to your recordings rather than muddling them up? How do you do that with bands that normally are not able to get the quality?
I tend not to get involved in projects where the music can't be performed in a way that is interesting without being tarted up all the time. There are certain justifications for production tricks and even certain kinds of ambiences and sonorities to give a record a certain kind of style. But I don't like to go into the studio thinking that I have to make up the difference between the way a band wants to sound. They really have to have a grasp of how to get the sound they want, and then I can put that in a setting that ideally allows you to hear what's going on.
Beyond that, it's bold techniques and methodologies that I've acquired over time that at this point just second nature to me so I don't think about it too much. The objective is to have a song that is worth listening to, to secondly have it performed in a way that is engaging at least, and finally, the thing I worry about least is the sound. Everything else imposes a certain sound on it in the end. That sound is ideally one that is not light years away from what the musicians are actually doing in the first place.
Recordings you worked on that might be considered unique to the public and unique to the artists themselves were XTC's Skylarking and Hiroshi Takano's two LPs from Japan.
There are kinds of similarities. Takano has been very influenced by XTC as one of his favorite artists. That whole XTC thing had some bearing on me getting involved with certain artists. That XTC album was seminal in some ways. It was one of those things where the material suggests everything that happens beyond that. More than any other record that I've worked on, it was a record of details. It really kind of highlighted something that I've always believed, and that is, it's not the grandiose kinds of things as the little details that go on in it that really define the lasting experience. And so that's found its way over into Takano's records. The albums were done in my studio, and we did the singles in Japan, because the singles would precede the album recordings. And essentially once I get into that environment, I don't even have to think about it much in terms of getting the sound; even if the artist wants to do something radical, it's easy to arrive at. It becomes a question of how much you've experienced in creating a particular sound, in order to create something that's similar in sound to something I created in my own studio (in Woodstock, New York).
Oddly enough, when some artists go back and try and do the same thing, they find it difficult. Part of my problem is that I make it look too easy, partly because I've been doing it so long. And I know what I'm going for and know how to get there. Some artists, particularly the Japanese, who have fascination with technology for some reason, think that it can be reduced to some checklist of things that you do. They've often told me that when they go back afterwards, that it doesn't seem like I do anything on the records, and they go back and try to do it, and it becomes an incredible nightmare to do something similar in terms, of sound. I don't understand why either. While it seems relatively easy for me, given that in some of these projects, it seems like I'm baby sitting. What the essential difference is, it's something catalytic, not so much obvious as kind of subtle and natural, and very easily over- overlooked in some way.
You're saying that you facilitate the success of groups without dabbling in what makes them a unique group?
Ideally not. There was a time when my fingers would be all over my productions. It becomes hard afterwards to delegate responsibility-good and bad. After the project's done, you would like to know at least in some general terms what the contributing factors were, in case you have to do it again, you know what's involved. In many cases, my influence might be too obvious on a particular part of the record, and the artist will react in varying degrees to that. Some artists will say it's obvious, while others will say, "Hey, that's over the line."
I really want what I do to be recognizable. So my style has evolved to something where I minimize the degree to which I get involved rather than go in desiring to have things changed to something that I've visualized.
We won't get into Andy Partridge's comments over the years, but let's talk about some others you've produced: Jesse Winchester, Tom Robinson Band's Two and Patti Smith's Wave. You're really not clearly fingerprinted on those records, and yet they sound good, whereas others are more easily compared to you, like the later Tubes albums.
A measure of how well-directed the artist is when we go in to do the record. The Tubes records have historically been situations when I come into the life of the band when they are in a state of turmoil, they are kind of up against the wall with a record company that is demanding a record with some semblance of commercial possibilities to it, and also the band, when they get into that mode, they kind of get into a dithering state, afraid to make decisions. When that happens, my presence gets much larger and I become more of a member of the band at that point. Nothing would be accomplished otherwise. They get to a point where they just can't finish the song... they have verses but they're just pointless babbling.
It's that way for a lot of people when it comes down to it: You've just got to finish this song. And particularly with a band of players, and a band that has been around for some time and has already expressed their seminal ideas, things just sort of grind to a halt. So someone has to get in there and start making up the difference. My job description is sort of generalized in that way. It really depends on what is necessary for me to do.
That makes it possible for me to become quasi-invisible in some productions, in that all that they ask is quality in the engineering and the final mix, and maybe very little else other than maybe just an outside opinion about what's going on. In other cases, there may be huge amounts of organizational and musical input necessary... string arrangements.
The XTC thing... I had the entire album concept mapped out before we ever recorded a note of it. So it's variable from project to project the degree to which I'm compelled to become involved in the composition and arrangement of the music, rarely any more in the performance of it but it's certainly possible. In some cases, I would be playing guitar on the record. So it varies from production to production.
At the South-by-Southwest Multimedia Conference in Austin (March 1995), you drew an analogy comparing "Smells Like Teen Spirit" to "More Than a Feeling" to "Louie Louie." Do your own songs connect in a similar way in regard to the comparison of your songs from your early career to more recent creations? In the past, you've said that you sometimes dream your songs.
I have done that, but not all the time. If I get into a state of mind that I'm making a record, that will often happen. Some people would like to imply that there's something extremely mystical about that. In some instances the realization is so complete that it mystifies me as well. But just as revelatory is that the same things have happened when I'm fully awake. Some confluence of events, such as the full realization of how a piece of music is supposed to be, will come to me, and all I have to do is keep that thought alive long enough to get it down.
So dreaming it or having it pop into your head when you're awake are two ways of receiving the same information. It mostly has to do with the state of equipoise that I get in when I'm making a record, which usually involves a degree of isolation for a while, and kind of paring down other things that I have to think about and concentrating solely on what to me is a process of accumulated ideas. That requires me to not talk, but to listen, essentially to myself. To get someplace where I get some degree of solitude where I start to hear what I really think. And then to find a way to essentially transcribe that.
The thing about music is that it is a very small palate. Musicians are always a product of their influences. A number of factors: one is the limit of the palate. That's because we work with the 12-tone scale. And also because there are cultural limitations on what kind of music you hear, and what kinds of music a population is willing to accept. So you can make some very weird and peculiar music, people indeed do make that, but that's music you make for yourself, because no one wants to hear it. It's no less solid from a musical perspective; it's just that in the realm of commercial art, what actually gets distributed and listened to, you've got a limited area to work in, so every single song you hear on the radio has some two-four drum pattern on it. The rule of thumb is that you will have some two-four or four-four drum pattern in your song.
But you have a sort of complex series of motifs in your library. "Black Maria" is not a simple song. The actual flow of the song goes through a lot of changes.
Syncopations... yeah, every time that song has to be relearned, it's a challenge learning it.
"International Feel" is another one in regards to its innovative sound.
Some of it is just turning beats upside down to make it more interesting. Generally, musical exploration ... if I have a drum pattern, what do I have to do with the drum pattern so I don't get too bored with it? In the realm of pop music there are certain rules that you labor under. So you could say that most of my creations could be traced back to a series of songs or pieces of music, songs that along the way have had some big impact on me, and therefore stuck in, my mind and had some influence on how I might have written other things.
Like Marvin Gaye, "What's Going On." And that particular era and other associated, slightly earlier Motown acts, like Stevie Wonder. And also there's the Philadelphia thing. All of that influences the kind of music that I do that sometimes dominates my composition and performance, and sometimes falls into the background. You could say that in an album like Nearly Human, that's where that influence came full force to the front, and ever since it's been falling into the background again. Sort of that Philadelphia, Motown, R&B influence. When I was a teenager, that's what we heard on the radio. The kind of music I ignored was Brian Hyland and that really "arch-white" music; that silly white music I just had no interest in. So the kind of music I really paid attention to was Philadelphia, or Memphis. You got to hear a lot of that R&B music on Philadelphia radio.
I was fortunately in a place for music, because it's close enough to the South that a lot of that Memphis-style music could appear on the radio, and some of that Detroit-style music, and some of that hard R&B, but not so far into the South to be a redneck and therefore trying to keep it off the radio. So Philadelphia was a really good area to grow up in, particularly in exposure to black music. Philadelphia has always been a great jazz capital. A lot of great jazz musicians came out of the Philadelphia area. So you could always hear good jazz on the radio.
In the past 20 years, you have occasionally played tribute songs like the Who's "Anyhow, Anyway, Anywhere" and ? and the Mysterians' "96 Tears." Is there any other music that you continue to fall back to as being your derivative music, beside Motown, from the eclectic standpoint?
I always had that influence of classical and show tunes. The reason that I can't get into Cats, Phantom of the Opera, [is that] it's something that parents used to listen to a lot. My dad was not much into pop music a lot... he would not allow it to appear on his turntable. But in return, we had highbrow tastes, actually middlebrow tastes, which was better than highbrow. Otherwise we would have been inundated with Baroque music, which was the most archly-repetitive music there is. I got to hear things like Debussy and Ravel and Bernstein, and Richard Rodgers, and Kismet, and more high/middlebrow music that was available.
What about guitar players of the era? Who did you enjoy listening to?
What I could hear on the radio. Of course, there was Duane Eddy, but he was not a spectacular guitar player; all he did was wiggle that bar around a lot. I really had no real true jazz experience until I was 16 or 17. I started listening to Horace Silver and Bill Evans, and something beyond Jimmy Smith. Jimmy Smith is easy to like. Some jazz is just more bluesy and funky and, to the uninitiated, a little harder to understand.
I didn't get hip to that until I was 16 or 17. But then I started to get hip to a lot of interesting music that I never heard before because I had enough money to buy a few records. I wouldn't go down and buy the new Gerry and the Pacemakers; I would go down to the Nonesuch [Records] bin, and find a 79-cent record of Eastern European electronic music. I've always been more fascinated with the exploration of music rather than with settling into a style and minding that for however long the vein holds out.
Are there any recent guitar players that are easy to listen to because of their clarity?
Guitar playing has changed so much. It is a highly technical exercise. But I've heard some music recently that I really enjoyed listening to that was guitar-based. Lyle Workman has played with me, and he did a whole solo album. Now he plays with Frank Black. So he plays a style of guitar that is appropriate to that music. Perhaps as the whole Internet thing expands, his music will find an audience.
You use a lot of percussion. Any particular percussion motifs that you relate to, like Latin America or Far Eastern?
A lot of it is just simple coloration for me. I have no preference for a style of percussion. There are instances where percussion has been used to a great advantage. For example, how percussion is used to color something like "Mysterious Ways," the U2 song, in the context of an electrified pop song. And in "Can't Stop Running" (from Nearly Human, 1990), which was supposed to be done with a quasi-international feel to it because it was originally done at the behest of the Olympics. Even though they never used the song, when I did a version in a live band, it kind of evolved. Quasi-collection of instruments and sound, but not one particular ethnicity, just the idea of something of a general tribalism.
"When I Pray" from Faithful (1975) was an attempt to elicit a kind of African-Christian thing. I guess it was a precursor to that kind of South African craze, which became big later.
In an interview you did for the San Francisco Chronicle (5/7/92), you once said that your motivation is based on being deathly afraid of being conditioned. In your career, you tend to make dramatic reversals in direction. The melodicism of Nearly Human (1990) to the cacophony of No World Order (1992) is an example. Can you reflect on how that occurs?
I remember a particularly epiphanal moment that I had just after Something/Anything? (1972) or in that period. I was listening to "I Saw the Light," and I realized that it had taken 15 minutes to 20 minutes to write the song from beginning to end. And everybody liked it. Everyone was immediately taken by the song. And I suddenly had this horrific feeling of myself being trapped in this existence of some kind of Tin Pan Alley guy who sat down at the piano like Steve Allen. I could see everyone being fascinated by the facility of the thing, but me getting no personal reward out of it, like being a musical trained monkey. Even since, my greatest nightmare is that I wake up and for the past five years, I've been doing this on autopilot. And therefore, it makes it extremely difficult for me to defend what I've done.
This is something that extends to all realms of human endeavor, which is, if you do things without thinking about them, and someone asks, "Why did you do that?" you don't have very good legs to stand on. So I'm always asking myself the musical question, "What is the real reason that you're doing this? Is it because you're learning something? Is it because you're expressing something that you're fixated on that you have to get out? Is it because you're just doing it out of formula? Are you doing it because it's easy for you?"
It's not to say that I won't do something out of formula, but I have to know at the time. I have to recognize soon after I've done it, that "Hey, now I know where I got the idea for that. It was this other song that I did three or four or five years ago, and this is its direct antecedent. That was easy, but take it easy, you can't get away with that too often."
I wonder if that is another way of saying, "I keep myself honest, because no one else will."
More or less, yeah. It would be very easy to simply respond to what people respond to. I have some idea of the amount of challenge in any of the musical things I do and the way that people respond to them because there is a degree of challenge in them for me in conceptualizing and performing them. But at the same time, I'm also cognizant of the fact that a lot of the records I have done have not been recognized for what they truly are until some years later, when they're put in the context of a period of musical mutation. Therefore, I don't form strong opinions about the value of the things I do musically. They'll fall into their proper perspective as time goes on.
You mentioned recently that not only have you worked on music, but also graphically on your album covers, and you use interactivity in your technical work. Which album covers did you take the most time in designing?
I've always considered the album artwork as. being part of the overall expression of the concept; it's the setup, the opening act, the experience of listening to the record. In some cases, it's merely advertising for what's inside; in other cases, it expands on what's inside. In general, it sets a certain tone that often primes the listener for the listening experience. So I've always invested a lot in the covers in one way or another. Not to say that every one represents a crowning achievement in any way, or that there is not some other agenda. I've allowed others to do things on one or two occasions to design the way the cover will come out, and let it be their expression rather than mine, because they have more honesty than the idea that I would have in mind.
But for the most part, I do get highly involved in the generation of the album graphics, to the point that it may be 100% my doing, and in other cases, it may represent the organized contribution of many people. I'd say that No World Order (1992) represented a high degree of investment in that we spent weeks on that doing computer graphics, designing and rendering computer graphic pictures that ultimately aren't on the final product. Others are more simple and straight-ahead. The A Cappella album (1986) was essentially two photographs and some type.
What about the A Wizard, A True Star LP cover? Did you design that?
I contracted somebody to do that. I was walking down the street and looked in a gallery that was up near Carnegie Hall, and I saw these paintings that were a combination of very classical painting techniques and these peculiar mystical and geometric elements all jumbled together in weird psychedelic perspectives on things. So I contracted the artist to do the cover, and I actually sat for a while where he did some sketches of me, a little bit of portraiture. Then he did the rest of it more or less without my supervision. He showed me sketches as it evolved as it was going, and I kind of approved the whole thing. The photo session that was inside were a couple of friends of mine who did that themselves. The most I had to do was print out the lyrics.
At the South by Southwest Multimedia Conference presentation in Austin, you mentioned that the CD-ROM would be a short-lived phenomenon. In 1989, you commented that CD-ROM could be useful for music education and for the archives of musical creations over time. Do you see a changing perception of the value and fundamental utility of technology, or are you separating the CD-ROM from what you're currently doing with the interactive element of technology?
Since what I do is principally musical-computers, I have a tough time presenting in traditional music with quality that we expect from a CD player or a video tape deck, or cable television or other methods of delivery of sound and pictures.
The reason that CD-ROM as something specific to computers will be a short-lived phenomenon is because, in the long run, people don't want to be entertained sitting in an office chair. They would rather go to the couch, or sit in their rumpus room. In that sense, as the bandwidth of wire that is connected to your television and your stereo begins to increase, less and less will be necessary to go out and purchase that actual artifact that contains the sounds and pictures on it. You will simply order it up and experience it, and then pay what will probably by a fraction of the normal cost of buying a CD-ROM in a store. What you won't get with it is all the dead trees, the printed material. And a lot of people miss that. But people will have to get used to missing it, because there are going to be fewer and fewer paper products in the world, and that's as it should be, since we've destroyed all of our forests.
There was a song you did in the early '80s that never made it on an album, called "God and Me." Another aspect of that theme on Healing was a song ("Healer") that positively and deliberately focused on a feeling about God. What would you like to say about the themes of these songs that reflect the spiritual feeling that you have, or is that something that we don't want to talk about?
None of those reflect a specifically spiritual feeling. I've kind of given up on describing the indescribable. The common thread in all those is what I consider to be the mistake in the course of people trying to get close to God through other people. Like, if you couldn't discover it in yourself, how would you discover it in someone else? That to me is all basically illusory, the idea that you get any greater knowledge of, or more intimate experience of, the truly mystical and spiritual aspect of life by listening to somebody else talk about it or tell you what you're supposed to think about it. To me, that is basically flawed.
Every once in a while the topic comes up in one way or another. In the case of "God and Me," it's specific about the idea that something that's particular to Christianity or religions that grew out of the Mediterranean area is this idea of the personification of evil in the Christian religion called the Devil.
To me, the Devil's work would be, and ostensibly is described in Christian publications to be, that the Devil is trying to get between you and the Christian God, and to influence you to do things his way, and to fool you into thinking that he is the Christian God. Therefore, explicit in that, is that whenever you listen to another human being try to tell you what the spiritual side of life is about, then essentially you're being misled. So that's what that song is about, the idea that if you really want the truth, you have to be willing to examine yourself for it.
"Healer" was metaphorical. "Healer" was this whole idea of what happens to someone when they are able to control some extraordinary power, or are at least thought to do so. It's that phenomenon from the other way around ... people insisting on placing some divine significance on what you do and say And the hubris and the ultimate downfall that comes with that as evidenced by the constant string of martyrs to their religion -- some phenomenonological thing that is more animal than god-like -- it's more of a product of the herd mentality than the product of some divine inspiration.
You've been called, in various articles, a provocateur, a wizard, a genius, a weirdo and, more recently, puzzling.
We do jigsaw puzzles, so puzzling is legitimate, (laughs) We have Flow-Fazer and Grokgazer jigsaw puzzles. Puzzling works because it represents some closure... some continual threat. When I was just a child, one thing we knew about my relationship with my parents and the rest of the world was that it was puzzling, and that it didn't seem to make a whole lot of sense. And it wasn't until I became a "free agent" at the age of 18 that any of it started to make any sense. But that's all nominal anyway. Because most of the things that people seem to take for granted in their own lives are always open to question in mine. That's why I do what I do. And that's just the way it's always going to be.
Is there anything about the latest album, The Individualist, that you're excited to talk about?
Having blitzkrieged everybody with No World Order, the fact that it was musically and technically new in so many different ways, and really I'm just letting this record lay there. But I'm wary at this time to editorialize on the music because I don't want people to have to go through what they went through last time. Eventually there will be the interactive version of it, and all the other ramifications involved, this ongoing merging of music and technology. But for the time being, I'd just as soon have people listen to the music and evaluate it without any consideration of the other issues.