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Kristin Hersh: Doing Things Differently
By Russell Bartholomee
For over two decades, Kristin Hersh been prolifically writing and recording some of the best and most original songs in modern music. Best known for her groundbreaking work with her seminal alternative band Throwing Muses, Hersh has also released half a dozen exquisite solo records. The Muses’ albums (especially their untitled debut, The Real Ramona, House Tornado, Limbo, and Hunkpapa) are every bit as good as better-known records from the era (such as Document, Doolittle, Copper Blue, and Nevermind). Songs like “Counting Backwards,” “Bea,” “Freeloader,” and “Pandora’s Box” are certainly as intelligently hooky as “Here Comes Your Man,” “Changes,” or “Lithium.” But while the Muses received plenty of critical acclaim and always managed to maintain a loyal following, commercial success largely eluded them. In 2003, Hersh released an excellent solo album (The Grotto) and what is very likely to be the last hurrah for the Muses, a self-titled album that was as strong as any in her illustrious career.
Most artists who had given so much of themselves so well and for so long might be expected to call it quits. And they wouldn’t be blamed for doing so. But at the end of 2003, Hersh did something quite extraordinary. She started over from scratch, forming 50 Foot Wave with Muses bassist Bernard Georges and drummer Rob Ahlers. There are those who may have assumed that the new band would basically be Throwing Muses: the Sequel. But 50 Foot Wave is much different than anything Hersh has done so far. For one thing, it’s much louder than her previous band. Where Throwing Muses owed something sonically to bands like REM and X, 50 Foot Wave has much more in common with Hüsker Dü and the Ramones. It’s not exactly punk (the songs are too complex), but it’s full of the fury and raw power of punk. The sound is propelled by Ahler’s ferocious drumming and Georges’ thundering bass, on top of which Hersh lays down rhythm guitar lines with the dexterity of Joey Santiago and Bob Mould. The signature delicate rasp of her voice has been replaced by a raucous roar. The combined effect is staggering; after a few songs, I feel punch-drunk. I mean that as a great compliment. This band puts the “pow” in power trio.
Since forming, 50 Foot Wave have released a self-titled mini-album and a full-length debut called Golden Ocean. Both are exceptional recordings and by all right should be all over the airwaves. The songs rock hard enough for the kids and are smart enough for the adults. Of course, in a perfect world, Hersh would already be a household name and no one would have ever heard of most of the garbage currently occupying the top spots on the charts. But then, Hersh has never concerned herself with chasing the charts, choosing instead to earn her keep on the road. It’s a decision that keeps her and her family in almost constant motion, but as Hersh tells it, she wouldn’t want it any other way.
I caught up with Kristin Hersh on a rare afternoon off, right in the middle of her latest solo tour and before 50 Foot Wave began the next leg of its tour. We talked about the band, the new album, and a music industry that makes artistic integrity incredibly difficult. Best of all, we discussed the creative process—those songs that won’t leave you alone until they fight their way out and where the songs really come from.
BT: Thanks for taking the time to talk to me today. First let me say that I’ve been a fan of Throwing Muses for years, and that I love the new band. Alright. Enough bootlicking.
KH: [Laughing] Bootlicking is good.
BT: In terms of personnel, 50 Foot Wave is only different from the last incarnation of Throwing Muses by one member. But sonically, it’s much rawer. What made you decide to turn it up to 11 at this stage in your career?
KH: Honestly? The songs. They sounded dumb on acoustic guitar and even beyond the Muses “11”- wise.
BT: How has the reaction from your fan base been to the new sound?
KH: The crowds seem split 50/50: those that have been and remain faithful listeners no matter what I sound like and those that don’t know who the hell I am. Actually, that’s not altogether true. I’ve signed solo CD’s for people as I walked into a club and then seen them leaving after our first song (with their fingers in their ears!).
BT: I hope you won’t mind the comparisons, but on 50 Foot Wave’s new record, Golden Ocean, I hear a little bit of Pixies and Sugar (especially Beaster-era Sugar) here and there. One reviewer compared the sound of the record (positively) to Nirvana. Are any of us on the right track in terms of your influences?
KH: I’m certainly open to the idea of being influenced, but I never, ever listen to music. (I knew the Pixies well, but not their records; I know Bob Mould well but I’ve never heard Beaster). I guess when you’re working with the limited palette that is a power trio, you’re going to be covering some familiar ground
BT: Do you find a lot of fans at 50 Foot Wave shows expect to hear Throwing Muses 2.0?
KH: We’ve never had anybody ASK to hear Muses songs…they might have been thinking it…
BT: Do you play any Throwing Muses or solo material at 50 Foot Wave shows?
KH: If we run out of encores, we play a long, psychedelic version of “Your Ghost.”
BT: You’ve been making records for over 20 years, much of those on major labels, like Warner Brothers in the US. With 50 Foot Wave, if I understand correctly, you’re taking a very non-traditional approach to promoting the band. It’s a real hands-on, this-is-my-band-and-I’m-gonna-do-it-myself kind of thing. How much involvement does the label even have at this point? Is there even a label?
KH: There isn’t in the States. We self-release here. But overseas, we’re still 4AD.
BT: Is that relationship still good?
KH: Yeah, they’re a great company. In fact, I’ve been there longer than any of the people that work there. Their work ethic is such that [they are] all easy people and effective workers and serious music listeners, you know, everything you could want from a label.
BT: That’s pretty rare.
KH: Yeah, I think it’s exceedingly rare, and it’s a nice balance of caring but not caring too much. Not telling me what to do and yet backing everything I choose to do. It’s hard, I think, for them to pay the bills without letting anybody suck. Also, I don’t know much about overseas markets, and so I figure, ‘whatever you want to do.’
BT: Am I right that Throwing Muses was the first US act signed to 4AD?
KH: Yeah. I was pretty lonely because the other bands were, um, how shall I put this…arty? With a capital ‘A’ [laughs]. Very dramatic and ethereal, and we were just these little brats, screaming this kind of…I don’t know, we were kind of…country-punk back then. So we got the Pixies signed just so we wouldn’t be so lonely, so we’d have somebody to tour with that we actually wanted to hang out with.
BT: You’ve been friends with the members of the Pixies for a while. Was it exciting for you to see them reunite last year?
KH: I didn’t actually get to see it. 50 Foot Wave opened for them, but I had to leave afterwards; I have a nursing baby. So I saw a few songs, and it sounded really…tame. It sounded good, just kind of surfy and calm. But the Muses had reformed a couple of years ago and Mission of Burma…all of my friends seem to have gotten back together. So I knew it wasn’t long before the Pixies decided to cash in.
BT: Are the days of Throwing Muses reforming pretty much over? You won’t be held to this answer; it will not be used against you. But for the people out there who are holding their breath hoping that there will be another Muses record…should they just move on?
KH: I always thought [there would be another record]. I love that band. And we did these things called Gut Pageants, where we’d choose a city and tell people where to meet us, and we’d just play for a weekend, have picnics, do karaoke. I’d play solo, and sometimes my sister [prodigal Muse and former member of the Breeders and Belly, Tanya Donnelly] would come. And they were great. But that was when I really needed a band, and 50 Foot Wave has just sucked the noise life out of me. I don’t have anything left over [laughs]. And if the last record [2003’s Throwing Muses] has to be the last record, it’s a good one—nice and bratty and full of itself and live. Everything that you want a period at the end of a sentence to be.
BT: I thought when that record came out that it was astonishingly raw and powerful. I thought, “if this is a swan song, then it’s quite a swan song.”
KH: That’s good. And the tour was great. It was bigger than any tour we’ve ever done. We did the world—quickly, but we did it. It was a big, hard set. We did old stuff we like. It was just great, so I don’t really have the impetus to do it again. You know, I’m still waiting to get old. I haven’t gotten old yet; maybe when that happens, I’ll do that thing that old people do where they go [in old lady voice], “We can still rock out!”
BT: [In old man voice] I used to be in this band. You may have heard of a song called “Dizzy.” You just sit back there and listen…
KH: [laughing] I don’t think we played that song on that tour.
BT: The other thing that occurred to me when I heard that last Muses record—it was more edgy; it was rawer than your previous work. Were you already consciously headed towards the sound you have now with 50 Foot Wave?
KH: I guess in retrospect, yeah. When I don’t have a band, my solo acoustic stuff starts to get less solo and less acoustic; it starts to sound like a band. So I think I was really ready to make a Muses record. I had all those songs ready to go, and they sounded good with that band and bad with just me playing [laughs]. It was obvious that we needed to make that record, and I guess it sounded really good to me. All that noise that had built up in my lungs. So, then I was writing and it just kind of continued and got even more so, and then it became necessary to do something about that, which was a wholly other power trio. It happens to have Bernard Georges from the Muses in it, but he’s kind of…Uber-Bernie [laughs].
BT: Bernie unleashed.
KH: Yeah, he’s stronger, but with…he’s not as bogged down with melody as was required of him in the Muses. And the drummer, Rob Ahlers, who we found out here in L.A.—he’s pretty much a monster. He’s like kicking a drum kit down a flight of stairs. His only influence is Animal, the Muppet.
BT: That’s his only one?
KH: Well, that’s what he says. And I laughed when he said that, and he said, “No really. I had to see if that could be done, and so I did it.” And that was the sound I had in my head, and I knew that no human being could recreate it—the tightness and the messiness. You know, if it’s too tight, it’s math rock, and it’s flat. And if it’s messy, you can’t play in a power trio; you’ll get kicked out. As a rhythm guitar player all those years, I really appreciate his metronomic fills, and yet they’re different every time. And they fly. We’re just kind of riding on Rob.
BT: Where did you find him?
KH: He was a friend of our guitar tech with the Muses. And I described this sound to him a few years ago when I was out with Grant Lee Phillips and John Doe…when I was out with them solo, and I just kind of was talking about what I wanted to do to amps to make my sound and what kind of drummer I wanted. It was between a drummer in New York and Rob here in L.A., and [Muses drummer] David Narcizo—who does all of 50 Foot Wave’s artwork—said of Marci, the other drummer, “She sounds more like me, and as a fan, I want to hear someone who sounds less like me.” [laughs] So we went with Rob. But it’s nice that Dave picked him.
BT: It’s like a special dispensation from the Pope.
KH: Exactly, yeah.
BT: I was talking about 50 Foot Wave with a drummer I know, who is also a Throwing Muses fan. He was unaware that you had a new band, and he said, “I can’t imagine Kristin Hersh working with someone besides Dave Narcizo. He’s one of my favorite drummers.” And I have to admit that when I heard that you had a new drummer, I was disappointed, until I heard the music. This isn’t to take anything away from Dave, who’s phenomenal, but Rob’s really a force of nature on that kit.
KH: And you haven’t seen him. I mean, he sits right in the middle because he is what to watch. And he sings. And he sings great. I used to sit next to [Mission of Burma drummer] Peter Prescott’s kit at Volcano Suns shows, and I would watch him yell and play, and it was this…that was the only real force of nature I knew. Narcizo was asked to be delicate in his parts if not in his playing with the Muses. There was so much changeability in what we did. And that wasn’t asked of Peter Prescott, and that’s not asked of Rob, so they’re allowed to be the hurricanes that they are. That’s what Rob reminds me of—a wind tunnel. And I know, even though those fills he does every night are different, I have to follow them. And they are on. It’s thick. And it’s so hard to play a 50 Foot Wave set that we just…we all kind of collapse afterwards.
BT: Well if the live sound is anything like the record, I’m sure that’s true.
KH: We pack up our gear, and we say ‘hi’ to people, but we are ready to pass out. And it’s…I could not have done this when I started the Muses; I wasn’t in good enough shape. I’ve got to swim a couple of miles a day to keep up with this band.
BT: Well, on the Golden Ocean album, it’s not like there are any tender moments. There’s no down time in the whole record.
KH: No breath. [Laughs] Rob calls it the blitzkrieg when we play. It’s just on the whole time. But that’s good because your brain becomes disengaged. It’s like racing down stairs carrying a lot of boxes. If you think about it, you’re going to fuck up. So in that case, if like Narcizo and I…and I should say that it was very sensitive of you both to be aware of that…I didn’t think I could work with another drummer. We didn’t’ even have to talk by the end of the twenty-year career; we just knew what to do next. And not that there were any chops involved; it was always something new that we were looking for. It’s just that we both knew what that was going to be. And we grew up together. We’ve known each other since we were six. We come from the same little island off of Rhode Island called Aquidneck. And, you know, the pool of drummers is very small. There’s just not a lot of people. But we were just very, very close. I don’t know how I’d do it. It helped having Bernard there. Bernard was so in love with the material that we both made the move across country to be out here in L.A. And we…we thought we were auditioning Rob, I guess. But as it turns out, we were just playing with him. And Rob knew the songs. But after maybe…10 seconds, we were auditioning for Rob.
BT: “Can we keep up with this guy?”
KH: Bernie was just, “Oh my God, oh my God, I’ve got to work much harder; I’ve got to do more homework. [Laughs]
BT: If Dave helped you decide on Rob, then the parting of the ways with him was amicable? I guess he was not upset about you moving on with 50 Foot Wave?
KH: He’s so excited about it. There actually wasn’t really a parting of ways. The Muses, we knew, could no longer be a working entity. So he started a graphic design business.
BT: So was the breakup of Throwing Muses mainly a financial decision?
KH: Yeah. It always was. It was actually Narcizo that said that first. I wasn’t ready to face that. I think really, he grew up. And Bernie and I didn’t. We’re still willing to do what you’ve got to do to be in a band. And I’m not going to bitch about it because no one in their right mind would call it a real job. It can be hard to…you know, if not sleeping on floors, then at least sleeping around…
BT: Yeah.
KH: Never going home and doing without showers, food, and sleep. You know, you do that if you, say, work for National Geographic or in some cases if you’re a social worker, going into the ‘hood. I mean the places we play, you’d be amazed at the squalor we sometimes live in, and yet we don’t…it’s almost like the tools of our trade—the filth and the sleeplessness…and the good people, too. Having to drink, even when you don’t want to. It’s an unusual lifestyle to have not shaken off by this point. And yet, there’s absolutely nothing in this world that stays except the music you’re going to play. So you just kind of float and you deal. It keeps us amazingly healthy to need that kind of a fix every night. We haven’t changed in like 20 years. And I don’t know what that is except being that much in love with what you do.
BT: If you don’t have that…if you’re not in love with it, then do something else. It’s too hard…
KH: You have to be comfortable. You know, I don’t want to live that way necessarily, but I don’t mind it for a minute when we’re playing every night. And we do play every night; we don’t have days off. I don’t like days off because then I start wondering, ‘what am I doing in Montana?’ Then you start to feel lost, but you know that hour and a half…I don’t know it’s kind of like being a firefighter or something. You are focused on that hour and a half every day, and so nothing else matters. If your body aches, your body aches, but you get that hour and a half, and your life is ok.
BT: In addition to 50 Foot Wave material, you’re still doing solo records. You’ve been doing double duty at least since Hips and Makers [Hersh’s first solo record], which came out right after the Muses’ Red Heaven. You’ve been releasing records as more than one musical entity for over a decade now. When you’re writing a new song, how do you know whether it’s a Kristin Hersh solo song or a 50 Foot Wave or a Throwing Muses song?
KH: I used to play acoustic songs with the Muses. So I just kind of took those and put them on other records. And I didn’t mean to. I made a demo of songs for my husband. He sent the demo to Warner Brothers, and they threatened to release it, of all things. I thought they were just feeling sorry for me because it was like around Belly’s success [laughs]. ‘No, no, no, I’m not ambitious in any way!’ It’s like someone finding your diary and publishing it. So I said, ‘I’ll do it, but I’ll do it on purpose. You have to let me go in the studio and be aware that these are going to be heard.’ So I didn’t really mean to be making solo acoustic records, and I was still convinced that it was going to be an invisible fan release up until the last minute. It didn’t make mathematical sense to me that one third of a band that didn’t sell any records was going to be able to sell records. But then I learned good lessons about the instrument itself, the fact that it’s wood and muscles and air making sound. I like that—not leaning on a volume pedal…people just hear it in the nature of the movement of the song. And that people would show up; it wasn’t a dollars-to-decibels thing. I play a show, and I’m just sitting in a chair. Hardly any noise is coming out, and they’re there for the song. That was very moving to me. So that kind of led to the other acoustic records. If it hadn’t made any impression on me, I wouldn’t have made any more acoustic records. But I could be choosing the songs wrongly. I don’t know. Narcizo always implied that I was—‘I really want to play that one!’ But they just kind of…some of them are more…maybe I just write them on acoustic guitar, and so I think that they’re acoustic. And I write electric songs on electric guitar. I am that retarded.
BT: So it’s not a conscious decision to say, ‘I’m going to write some material for Throwing Muses or whatever.”
KH: Oh no. I would never sit down to write a song. I have no idea what songs are or how to write them. I just get them stuck in my head, and so I…
BT: …must give them release.
KH: Yeah, you know, it’s true. I hate to sound wacky, but they build up, and they get louder and louder…
BT: No, I get that. I totally understand that.
KH: Really? Oh good. I’m tired of people saying, ‘I know you claim to channel God when you write songs.” You know, I’m not going to talk about this anymore. [Laughs]
BT: I don’t ever recall reading that you claimed to channel God.
KH: [laughing] I don’t think I ever said it, either.
BT: But there are things that are in there somewhere…maybe it’s a melody or a snippet of a lyric…
KH: Or out there. You know, I’m not convinced that I can make anything up. Maybe that’s what a painter paints. It’s visual to them; It’s aural to me. You know, people who dance can do that about ‘the thing.’ But whatever it is, it doesn’t feel like self-expression to me, no matter how many of my life pictures appear in the songs. And they do. I’m acutely aware of how much the songs take from my life. But I don’t really feel the need to tell anyone about them. I’m not made that way. I was going to be a biologist. It doesn’t have anything to do with me. I was always under the impression that the songs had kind of picked me wrongly and would make my life go in these patterns so that they could exist. Which is now making me sound kookier…But my point being that I don’t want to write songs. I don’t need to. I don’t have anything to do with it, except that it keeps happening, ever since I was 14.
BT: My wife is a painter and a musician—she plays bassoon.
KH: Wow! I don’t think I know a bassoonist. Good for her.
BT: Just the other day, she came home. I had bought her some canvases for Christmas, and she came home and said, ‘Take the boys.’ She went in and painted. She had to paint. Something hit her on the way home, and she couldn’t…she had to put it on canvas. Or else it was going to drive her crazy.
KH: Exactly.
BT: I think that makes perfect sense. And I promise not to attribute your songwriting to ‘channeling God.’
KH: [Laughs] I’ve been a mother since I’ve been releasing records. And there isn’t time to play. It always sounds inappropriate to say, ‘I’m going to play now.’ There’s always so much work to do. So I always wrote in my head. I practiced in my head, too. Sometimes the first time I heard a song would be in the studio. But now, I have four. And they all talk, which I didn’t think would make that much difference. But they talk to me. And I can’t do it in my head anymore. They’re just piling up. Sometimes they even just go away, which is better than piling up, I guess. But I’ve never tried that…’Take the boys…” [laughs] and disappearing.
BT: You should try it. It works for both of us.
When do you know that a song is finished?
KH: When the song stops talking and I start coming up with “ideas” (always a bad thing).
BT: How literally do you intend your songs to be interpreted? For example, on “Bone China” when I hear “Gonna wash that man right out of my head and soap him into my eyes…” my take is that you’re talking about a relationship that is unhealthy, yet addictive. That you’d love to be rid of the ‘man’ but that it’s also strangely enjoyable to wallow. Am I close?
KH: I’m interested in the pushing and pulling and molding and resistance that go along with addiction to another person. That said, the songs seem to use my life pictures and stories to make their own point. I’m always surprised by what they make me say and I always learn something.
BT: Is it important to you that people interpret your songs the way you intended them?
KH: I don’t allow my intentions to enter the picture, so it’s a moot point. The songs are smarter than I am which allows them to function as other people’s soundtracks, too.
BT: In this last election year, it seemed to be quite popular for artists to take some sort of definable political stance. Your songs have never seemed to me to be overtly political. Am I wrong? What do you think about the blending of politics and art?
KH: Politics are an organizational activity; art bypasses that orientation because it is focused on both the micro and macro at the same time. I do benefits; in fact I’m the Benefit Queen, some of them for political causes, but I would never tell a song what to say.
BT: On the back of 50 Foot Wave’s debut mini-album, and on the back of Golden Ocean, down where there’s normally copyright information, it says “Share This Music.” Are you advocating file sharing, are you encouraging people to copy it for their friends?
KH: Absolutely. Everything.
BT: Do you allow fans to record your live shows?
KH: Absolutely. We are into every kind of music sharing there is. I’ve always…in fact they put my face—me and Chuck D—on Napster. We were the only people back in the Napster days.
BT: You and Chuck D, and that was pretty much it. You two versus Metallica.
KH: Exactly. Fucking dipstick. You know what that Lars Ulrich said was, [in a mocking tone] ‘It sickens me to see our art being used as commerce.” I was like, that’s what you’re trying to do!
BT: That’s what you do for a living, Chief.
KH: You’re asking people to pay for it. You don’t seem to understand the argument. So I side with me and Chuck D and Napster. But we don’t feel like there’s any reason to make money from playing music or any justification of that. It would be great if we could play music and pay a mortgage, too. But you don’t become a musician to make money unless you’re absolutely prepared to suck and get a stylist and play the game. You know, all that crap. I wouldn’t even be good at that. It’s not even tantalizing, that kind of success. It’s not possible. So why not play music for people to hear? Duh. So, we have always just been giving it away. We do sell CDs at shows, and people buy fistfuls, for them and their friends. And if they don’t’ want to buy it, then that’s fine too. They can download it, they can get it from somebody else. I really don’t care. Because for some reason, music is meant to be heard. Otherwise, I would just sit in my bedroom. I’m a very shy person; I’m not cut out for this job. And I would not be out on the road 150 days a year if it wasn’t meant to be shared. So I’m figuring if they hear it, they’ll like it if they’re good people. And those are the people that we want at our shows anyway. So they come and we make an honest living by playing live. The people that sit on their asses and expect record companies to give them money for being in the studio—which costs money—and not going out on the road…just expect people to mail them checks for playing music…They’re high for one. They’re obnoxious for another. You can’t be babysat and be a good musician. I would rather be good. There were definitely moments at Warner Brothers where it was asked of us to dumb it down.
BT: Really?
KH: I was actually asked to be “less Kristin Hersh.” “Could you try sounding less like Kristin Hersh?”
BT: Did they say those actual words?
KH: Yeah. Seymour Stein said that to me.
BT: That’s insane.
KH: [to Stein] ‘Ah, point taken.’
BT: ‘Could you not be yourself?’
KH: Exactly. And he was right. I think it would have allowed them to maybe push the button to put promotional money into marketing what we did.
BT: I don’t know why it’s surprising, and yet it’s shocking to me that somebody would ask that. Because what they want is what? More marketable, poppy, radio-friendly, disposable bubble gum?
KH: Yeah. But really, I think their point was always that Throwing Muses should be making records. Here’s the money to do it…they called it an ‘integrity signing’ or something like that. It meant that they could say to other bands that they had Throwing Muses, and then they could sign baby bands that liked us. Which is fine. As long as we were making records, I was cool with whatever they wanted to do. Their point was that [they could] only sell it if it wasn’t that smart.
BT: Wow.
KH: That’s probably true, the way the music business is set up. I would sit in their offices—and they were normal people most of them, who worked there because they liked music (or grew up liking music and learned to hate it). And I would say, ‘Look at your desk. It’s piles and piles of crap. Why do you sell crap?’ And they’d say, ‘Crap sells.’ My point was always that it only sells because they sell crap!
BT: Right. ‘If you would stop selling crap…’
KH: ‘…it might not sell.’
BT: I teach high school when I’m not writing for Being There. I’m around teenagers 8 hours a day for the last 11 years. And I can tell you for a fact, based on empirical evidence and observational, scientific data that they’ll buy whatever is presented to them.
KH: Tell me about it. The problem in the logic is that the major labels claim that the public is musically uneducated. My point is that that doesn’t matter. If they’re musically uneducated, they don’t know what’s good from bad. So why not sell them good? Then they will be musically educated, and you can work an artist’s career instead of their stupid single that fools the people into buying the record and then forgetting about it next year.
BT: Do you think that the conventional approach of an artist signing to a label based on the strength of demos and then having singles promoted and having a career...Are the days of having a life-long career over?
KH: Except for a couple of bimbos, yeah. Because the bimbos—and by the bimbos I mean the himbos and the…any cartoony kind of person who’s really easy to understand—that handful of people sells more than they ever did. So they’re not really suffering up there. But down here in the sub-music business—which is a viable construct to work in—you just work with good publicists and promoters and good management. It’s pretty much the same business, but there is good radio, there are good record stores, and you have to be there to support them.
BT: Yes.
KH: We had to figure that we want to last. So you don’t punish people for wanting to hear the music. So, you go out on the road. And you hope people will show up. And if they’re not showing up, then you stay out as long as you can because at least you’re getting that hour and a half.
BT: When Napster was front page news, I remember hearing Chuck D say that Public Enemy was making their latest record available online for, like, $7 for download. Directly from the band. And when asked about record sales, he said that Public Enemy sold about a fifth as many of these as previous label-promoted records, but that they were actually making more money this way. And that’s not what it’s all about, but I think that says something.
KH: Well, it means that you survive, and that could be what it’s about. We’re wondering how you’re supposed to succeed without anyone knowing what you sound like. We’re a baby band; it’s hard to get heard. So why not give it away? Radio used to be a way to give it away, but now that costs money. Payola is dead just because they made it part of the deal.
BT: They changed the rules.
KH: You can just buy it now, MTV and everything.
BT: You can’t give a DJ $50, but you can pay Viacom $10,000.
KH: But then we find that if people like it, they come to the show and they buy a bunch of CDs. We’ve had people come to us and say, ‘I bought your CD, burned a couple of copies for my friends, so I want to give you the money for those.’ And we just say, you know ‘Godspeed. Do as much of that as you want’ ‘Well, can I have a few to give away?’ ‘Here you go.’
BT: Has 50 Foot Wave been getting much radio airplay? Is the video for “Clara Bow” being aired yet?
KH: More radio than I expected, but my expectations are always low. Most radio and video play is bought these days and we don’t (read: can’t) play that game.
BT: You’ve had a thriving online community (www.throwingmusic.com) for a number of years now. When did that get started, and how important has it been to your music?
KH: It’s been the single most important way for us to circumvent the U.S. recording industry and reach those listeners who demand quality music. It’s an untapped market, those people who resent being marketed to as the lowest common denominator.
BT: Can you explain a little bit about the WIP (Works in Progress) releases available through the web site?
KH: These are unreleased tracks of one kind or another (bedroom demos, studio outtakes, B sides, etc.) available from our site by subscription.
BT: At some point the plan was to release a mini-album every nine months or so. What happened with that?
KH: Our licensees in Europe freaked out. They said they couldn’t get us bins, couldn’t get us reviews, shows, or even catalogue numbers because the system is just not in place to handle a mini-release. So we had thought it was a good idea, but if it’s not, we don’t want to be shooting ourselves in the foot. But it’s kind of nice to have another chance at a first release. I like Golden Ocean. I like how it works. It’s not the punk-pop blast that the first one was. It’s more of a nice paragraph. It gave us more of an opportunity to make a statement.
BT: Were the few songs that were carried over from the mini-album remixed or new recordings?
KH: The vocals are new, the guitars are new, and they were remixed. Not to make up for it because it was lacking, but to make it match the rest of Golden Ocean. It was a little neater before. That stuff was a little smoother, a little tighter, less dark. It needed to be darkened up to sound more live.
BT: There’s something about Rob’s playing on the song “Dog Days” that is overwhelming to listen to. Not that it’s unpleasant, but in the sense that it’s hard to listen to that song and do anything else.
KH: [Laughs]
BT: I love to listen to music in the car, and it’s very hard not to drive too fast when that song is playing.
KH: I re-cut the main guitar on that song. And just sitting there, treating it as an overdub, you can be pretty neat about it, pretty low-key. I’m paying attention to whether I’m playing on top or behind the beat, depending on what part of the song I’m in—stuff like that. So, it’s work, but it isn’t usually work work. And that song, I came out breathing heavy, panting after doing an overdub because of Rob’s fills.
BT: It already has a pounding rhythm, and then when you get to the end of the chorus, and he hits those mallet-to-the-head triplets…
KH: That’s great. We really like that song.
BT: …it’s as cathartic an experience as I’ve had listening to a record in the last year.
KH: That’s great. My favorite part of that song is when Rob and I sing together that we have a stomach ache [laughs].
BT: What is the most important part of being a musical artist to you?
KH: The physical release and letting the songs leave me to do their work elsewhere.
BT: Will you continue to make solo albums?
KN: Oh yeah…there’s one in the works right now, but “England” thought it would be confusing to release a solo acoustic record too soon after a Wave record.
BT: In the past, you’ve worked with Bob Mould, Michael Stipe, Andrew Bird, and others on your recordings (and on some of theirs). Who am I missing, and how did those collaborations come about?
KH: Howe Gelb, Vic Chesnutt, John Doe, Grant Lee Philips, Syd Straw, Martin McCarrick, the Willard Grant Conspiracy…I just work with my friends, really.
BT: Is it daunting at all to work with other musicians you admire, or are you pretty much past getting star struck?
KH: When I realized where music came from (not people), I was no longer capable of being star struck.
BT: What current artists are you listening to the most these days? Who would you recommend our readers check out?
KH: Vic Chesnutt, Willard Grant, and Audio Learning Center.
BT: What’s next for 50 Foot Wave?
KH: Touring, touring again and then more touring.
BT: What’s your touring schedule like with this band?
KH: 150 dates a year, with solo tours I between.
BT: Wow. I know you have a family (and I believe you have four kids). I have two, and there are rarely enough hours in a day to get things done. How do you manage a family and maintain that kind of touring schedule at the same time?
KH: We travel together. Billy [O’Connell, Hersh’s husband and manager] drives the bus, of all things, the dogs come along, so does the cat (if she feels like it) and there are a bunch of goldfish swimming in the sink. Unless we take our car and stay in motels, then we just bring the kids and the dogs and we all live on backseat peanut butter sandwiches. It’s like a family vacation that never ends.
BT: Any chance you’ll be making it to Dallas on your never-ending family vacation (hint, hint)?
KH: I think we will. [Checks with Billy] Yes.
BT: I’m glad to hear it! Thanks so much for your time.
KH: Thank you so much for knowing your stuff. Or knowing my stuff, I suppose. That means a lot to me.
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