Writers On The Storm: Fans pay tribute to RAY MANZAREK

RAY MANZAREK

1939-2013

A Tribute In Words and Pictures

"I met Ray backstage at the Whiskey when my band 20/20 first started playing there. I had a million questions for him and he was kind enough to give me a few minutes. He was a great guy."- Ron Flynt (20/20)

"One big takeaway from Doors drummer John Densmore’s Riders On The Storm was that he uniquely grokked Jim Morrison’s essence, a fact tragically overlooked by everyone, most notably Jim himself. So I was glad to see Densmore back off a little and allow as to how maybe Ray kind of got it too: “It was like we were of one mind, holding down the foundation for Robby and Jim to float on top of.” Not the highest praise, maybe, but a start. ”Holding down the foundation” is what we say about relatively undistinguished rhythm sections… I mean, did Keith Moon merely hold down foundations, or did he float on top?

One day in 1967 or early ‘68, a DJ at a San Francisco radio station – probably KYA – played the Doors’ Light My Fire about a hundred times in a row, interspersed with an instrumental version of Love Is Blue. At least, it seemed like a hundred times, and I’m pretty sure it was Love is Blue. I think it was a competition, with people calling in their votes while their choice for best song was playing. In any case, I heard Ray’s starting riff on Light My Fire over and over as 10-year-old me rode in Mom’s car that day. I can’t say I became a Doors fan on the spot, but a seed was certainly planted.

A few months later, my parents got busy sloughing off earthly possessions in preparation for our move to a new life in Soviet Russia. Records were not on the keep list, but with amazing prescience, my Dad borrowed from someone a stack of popular LPs (which included the Doors’ first two albums) and ripped them to a reel-to-reel, just in case I or my sister might want something to listen to behind the curtain. Those recordings became the soundtrack of my pre-teen years, even though there was something missing. For years, I couldn’t put a finger on it, but they sounded… less rich, especially Light My Fire, of which I still had a vivid memory.

What was missing was the left channel. The equipment my Dad borrowed to rip the albums was a mix of stereo and mono, and somewhere in the chain of plugs and cords and adaptors the left stereo channel was dropped, resulting in a high-fidelity monaural recording of only the right stereo channel. To get an idea of what I obsessively listened to in the waning months of the ‘60s, you have to throw an old vinyl disc of the Doors’ first album on a record player, and crank the balance knob hard-right. On Light My Fire, what you get is Morrison’s stark voice, Ray’s keyboard-bass, Densmore’s drums, and but a subtle whisper of Krieger’s guitar and Ray’s keyboard solos. We’re talking 5 solid minutes of bass and drums. Bum, da-da-bum, da-da-bum, da-da-bum, da-da-bum… This, indeed, was John and Ray holding down the foundation while Robby and Jim floated somewhere in a purely hypothetical realm called the Lost Left Stereo Channel. The foundation was all there was to it. So I know where John Densmore is coming from – all he ever heard, or wanted to hear from Ray was that right channel.

A couple years later, I’m not sure when or how, I was in possession of the best live concert album ever created in the history of the universe, The Doors Absolutely Live. I played those discs till you could see a glimmer through the tracks if you held them to a light. If you have this album, pop it onto your trusty Dual (you still have your trusty Dual, right?) and nudge the needle over to track 2 of side B, When The Music’s Over, and take note as Ray holds down the foundation with his rock-steady keyboard-bass. Also take note of his glorious psycho-freakout keyboard assaults as he floats on top. Take note of how Ray Manzarek manages to float on top of himself."- Greg Bratoff (fan)

FIVE TO ONE: 

My five moments with Ray Manzarek

"My love for the music of the Doors stemmed from my high school days, when the search for identity and causes for rebellion were making themselves known. As much as Jim Morrison was the perfect poster child for the similar masses, the Doors were more than that. They were a band. Each member had their own identity. Of them all, Ray Manzarek seemed the least likely to be a rock musician. The eldest member of the band, he looked more like a teacher than anything else. Well, teach he did. If you were to break down the musical structure of the Doors’ music, it would be instantly less definable without Ray’s keyboards. It was a sound that could not be found with such ferocity across the legion of sixties bands that often copied their peers. The music is still played constantly on the radio today, over four decades later. Having carried this music with me for so long, and having lived in the greater Los Angeles area where this music was born, I feel a strong bond with it and what it has always represented to me. It’s kept me good company.

With the passing of Manzarek on May 20^th, I’d like to share some of the in-person memories I have of Ray from over the years.

January 8, 1988 – With a couple close friends, I made the trek to the Wiltern Theater in Los Angeles for the Rock On Film Festival that was put together by the American Cinematheque organization. A whole evening was dedicated to playing rare Doors films such as “The Doors Are Open” and “A Feast Of Friends”. Ray was on hand to host the sold out event, where he introduced the clips and spoke at length about the sixties and the positive effects of taking psychedelic drugs. Of the films he introduced, the most interesting piece was a bit of “lost” black & white footage of the Doors lip-synching to “Light My Fire” for ABC television back in August of 1967, somewhere on the beach near Malibu. Jim wasn’t too keen on the fake performance, so he simply didn’t show up for the filming. Robby’s brother, Ron, stood in for Jim with his back to the camera. The laughter that followed the story was priceless.

October 25, 1998 – An avid record collector, I found myself attending the Greater Orange County Record Show on a regular basis. They would often have music celebrities there for autograph sessions and appearances in general. In the past, I had met the likes of Laurence Juber, Jan Berry, Delaney Bramlett, Spencer Davis and others. But, it was Ray Manzarek that blew them all away. He was on another level altogether, and I could not believe I was going to have a moment to thank him for all the great music. I waited in line with a sweet Doors poster, a CD box set that had just come out, and one of those expensive gold CDs for the “L.A. Woman” album. He signed them all and quickly agreed to take a picture with me. He was as cool as you’d imagine. Having a one-on-one conversation with THAT voice was unforgettable. After all, he was the storyteller of the band… until the end.

August 5, 2011 – County fair shows are often hit or miss. Sometimes you get some A-rated talent, and other times you get complete washouts trying to revive a career. When it was announced that Ray Manzarek & Robbie Kreiger were to play the Orange County Fair, I figured… why not? Tickets were certainly not expensive, and it was promised to be a complete show of Doors music, by two of the three surviving members who MADE the music! To boot, they had recruited Dave Brock, the lead singer of Wild Child (a Doors cover band that I used to see at the Whisky back in the late 80s). My buddies and I purchased seats up in the lawn area, thinking that from that great distance… we wouldn’t be able to see how old Ray and Robby were getting… and that that wasn’t really Jim Morrison on stage. That, and a few beers helped our cause. We could fool ourselves into believing that we were back in the 60’s. However, when the opening notes to “Roadhouse Blues” kicked in, it did not matter one bit. This music was authentic and no one could play keys quite like that. I instantly wished I had gotten better seats. Still, Ray paid tribute to those of us “on the grass” in a way that only he could. My friends and I danced and sang and raised our cups to the music and the men who made it. Oh, and “Blue Sunday” was the best possible song they could have pulled out of their back pocket, and they nailed it!

January 20, 2012 – Since high school, I had devoured each and every Doors documentary I could find. I soon learned the legend of the band through interviews and shocking live concert footage. The band evolved greatly in the short time they were together, both visually and sonically. The very last official Doors documentary to be made was one that focused on the making of their very last album, “L.A. Woman”. “Mr. Mojo Risin’: The Story Of L.A. Woman” was set for home video release in early 2012, but there was to be a very special screening in Hollywood at the Egyptian Theater. I was lucky enough to get an invite. The film itself was a great way to showcase the last chapter of the quartet, but beyond that, there was a Q&A at the very end that included special guests. Among them, Elektra Records founder Jac Holzman, engineer/co-producer Bruce Botnick, guitarist Robby Kreiger and the man, Ray Manzarek! As Ray was introduced to come up, the crowd cheered with excitement. He very slowly made his way to the stage, giving me the idea that perhaps he was in a weakened state. I had wondered if something was wrong, but once he spoke, there was no further indication of anything amiss. Afterward, we tried to make our way down and shake his hand, but he was quick to the exits with Robby.

August 17, 2012 – It’s no secret that I’m a huge fan of the L.A.-based punk band X. Their first four albums were produced by Ray. Go figure. Ray even used X lead singer John Doe in the music video for “L.A. Woman”. Their relationship goes way back, and I had always loved that about the band. This last year, I got wind of a special concert that was to be part of the Sunset Strip Music Festival in Hollywood. That year’s festival celebrated the legacy of the Doors. At the Roxy, X was scheduled to play their “Los Angeles” album in its entirety… with special guest Ray Manzarek! I was so surprised that I got a ticket to such a big show in such a small room, without much problem at all. Of course, word got out, and the thing sold out in a flash. I prepared myself for a humid evening crammed up against a sea of fellow fans. Sure enough, I made my way to the foot of the stage, watching most of the show from the side with a head-on view of Ray, who sat in for at least six full songs. He was full of energy. A definite juxtaposition to how he appeared earlier in the year. He was excited to be there, and the band was honored to have him. The Doors’ “Soul Kitchen” was played twice, leading me to believe that it may have been filmed or recorded for posterity (or future release). As Ray left the stage following his last song, he headed to my side of the stage. I held my hand up high and he slapped it with the confidence that he gave us his usual best. That was the last time I saw Ray, and it seemed as though he was as relevant and strong as ever.

Ray left us earlier this week. The anticipation that came with my tickets for the upcoming Ray & Robbie concert at this year’s O.C. Fair has turned to sorrow. If we’ve learned anything from the years of preaching from Ray about Jim’s life and spirit… it’s that we all have the opportunity to make our mark and that life is merely a celebration on this plane. Perhaps he’s with Jim now, making music together and reminiscing about the days at the London Fog or their time at UCLA film school. Regardless, we’re left with a rich catalog of music that never stops. We’ll always have that as long as we’re here. Thanks for the music, and thanks for making a difference.

Break on through, Ray." -Dave Rayburn (musician)

"The recent drummer that toured with Ray Manzarek and Robby Kreiger - Ty Dennis - was a graduate of Garden Grove High School (SPAZ's alma mater) Class of '89. When Janet (Conney) and I went to the Anaheim House of Blues Show, Ty came out and visited with us for about 15 minutes before the show, and took a couple pics. Janet and I had tickets for the upcoming Aug 10th show at the Pacific Amphitheater. We are very sad about Rays passing. I'm glad that I went to several shows over the last seven years: two at Pacific Amphitheater, two at Anaheim House of Blues and 1 at The Grove Anaheim. This pic (shown above) was taken at The Grove Show, October 2009." -Lynne Levick (fan)

"Ray Manzarek, the founding keyboardist for the Doors, was super kind and cool with me on the air as I asked him all sorts of questions about song royalties, residual checks and other questions he was never asked before. Apparently I went way over the line and he was pleased as punch to share details with the radio audience. He was always a good sport and extremely smart to have on my radio show. I grew up with the music of The Doors and it was an honor to have him on the broadcast. He was just a regular guy who played keyboards in an iconic band that sold over one hundred million albums worldwide. He was just here on Maui last February performing in concert with Roy Rogers with their brand new album "Twisted Tales" under the name Manzarek-Rogers Band. Ray, you were a fine keyboard player but most of all, a real down to Earth guy. You will be missed..." -Michael McCartney (DJ)

An EXCLUSIVE Interview With NICK LOWE

What’s So Funny ‘Bout Peace, Love and… 

Nick Lowe?

By Stephen SPAZ Schnee

Unless you are a serious music fan, the name NICK LOWE may not be instantly familiar to you. But trust me; this is one artist that the word 'legend' was created for. Apart from producing many groundbreaking records in the late '70s, most notably for Elvis Costello and The Damned, the British singer/songwriter has composed some of the finest songs of his (or any) generation, including his own hit single “Cruel To Be Kind” and the oft-covered “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding”.
Beginning his musical career in the ‘60s, things began to look up the following decade when he and his mates formed the Pub Rock outfit Brinsley Schwarz (who recorded the original version of “What’s So Funny…”). When that band split in the late ‘70s, he aligned himself with the Punk and New Wave scenes while they were in their infancy, becoming an in-demand producer and solo artist. Joining forces with Dave Edmunds in Rockpile, he was able to work as both a solo artist and as a member of a respected band. When Rockpile split, Lowe continued his successful solo career throughout the ‘80s and into the ‘90s.
By the end of the millennium, Lowe switched gears, turned the volume down and began to create albums that not only highlighted his skills as a songwriter, they ushered in a new relaxed sound that took his music to a whole new level. Instead of ‘borrowing’ musical ideas from his heroes, he began crafting his own timeless classics that transcended anything he’d done before. The cheeky New Wave and Pure Pop guru of the past had matured and finally joined the ranks of those artists he had admired all of his life.
All facets of Lowe’s career can be found on Quiet Please: The New Best Of Nick Lowe, a brilliant two CD career retrospective that begins with Brinsley Schwarz and takes the listener on an exciting musical journey through his solo career, including brief stops with Rockpile and the short-lived supergroup Little Village. Both a great introduction and a wonderful reminder, Quiet Please really needs to be a part of every music fan’s collection. The three disc version with a bonus DVD is even better!
Stephen SPAZ Schnee caught up with Nick Lowe, who was happy to sit down and talk about Quiet Please, his music and so much more. They were joined by Super D’s Craig Swedin and Dave Rayburn, who were also able to inject a few questions when Spaz was out of breath!

SPAZ: With such a long and respected career, how did you go about picking the tracks for Quiet Please? With a few other compilations on the market, including The Doings box set, do you feel that this is the best representation of your career to date?
NICK LOWE: Well, I have to confess that I handed the whole project over to this great man called Greg Geller, who was the A&R man at Columbia Records. He signed both me and Elvis Costello, amongst many other people, back in the day. He's a great guy and sort of an old-school record business guy. He's more like a Harvard professor than a satin tour jacketed A&R guy and he's been an archivist, for the last few years, with Warner Brothers and has put out some really fantastic compilations. We've stayed friends over the years and I asked him if he would do this job for me and, to my great pleasure and surprise, he agreed to do it. I let him just go with it because I think he's got great taste and great ears. He had a couple of surprising choices, I thought, but I have great faith in him and I think he's done a great job. His great thing was only to do songs that I'd written. Because I thought, “Crikey! This one isn't there and this one isn't” and he said “Well, you didn't write it”. And in a lot of cases, I'd kind of forgotten that I didn't write it! (laughs). You know, things like “Switchboard Susan”, for instance, is a song which is particularly popular in the United States...
SPAZ: It's a Mickey Jupp song, right?
NL: Yeah, that's right. So, that one, for instance, is not on the record.

SPAZ: Going back to the beginning of your solo career: when Punk and New Wave hit in the late ‘70s, did it inspire you creatively? And were you surprised that your work was so warmly received even though you had come from a Pub and Rock background?
NL: Well, yes, it was a very different sort of set up over here in that scene. Especially in London, because it started in London. Not only that, it was a real handful of people who were in on that, a lot of whom had been involved with the Pub Rock scene... people are starting to realize that it was the sort of start of it. We were young and very pleased with ourselves and it was 'our turn', if you like. I, and my contemporaries, we'd done our apprenticeship playing with bands up and down the country. We got to the front of the queue, you might say, and now it was time for us to try and make a mark. It started with the Pub Rock thing. We were very disaffected by what we saw. There were a lot of Progressive Rock groups and really terrible singer/songwriters. And when it was time for us to have a go, our feeling was “It's awful. This is terrible...we don't want to join in with this! It's time to pull it all down and kind of start again.” That was the feeling with the Pub Rock scene, which was very much a London scene. They tried to get it going in other cities in the UK but it didn't really work...it was really a London thing. But when Punk came along, the English scene was a copy of what was going on in New York, really, but it was much more attractive to look at. The kids in those bands were much younger than we were by that time, but I was all for it. I didn't like the music much, actually, but I liked the mischief that was made. So I was producing records for Stiff at that time. I mean, I didn't really know what I was doing, but I became the 'house producer'. I produced this record by The Damned, who were one of the first Punk rockers and they actually called me 'Granddad' or 'Uncle' or something like that...and think I was 26 years old! I was much older than all the other bands at that time, but it felt really natural to me. I didn't think it was the start of something new, I really thought it was the end of it. I thought we were just kind of dancing around the corpse of Pop music and it was going to be all over by 1980 or something.

SPAZ: Throughout your career, apart from being a solo artist, you’ve been a member of numerous bands including Kippington Lodge, Brinsley Schwarz, Rockpile, Noise To Go and Little Village. When all is said and done, do you prefer working solo or within the context of a band?
NL: That's a very good question...I've got the position now that when I do shows with a band, the guys that I play with, I've played with for a really long time. They really get me... they get my act and what I'm trying to do. They're very very good musicians...or I think they are really good musicians. There are plenty of people who know more chops and more licks than they do, but there are very few who would know how to play Rock 'N' Roll... or what I think is Rock 'N' Roll music... and you've got to have a feel for that. These guys know what I'm doing so I don't really feel as if I'm in a band. I sort of feel as if I'm kind of in charge, but in a way there is a band mentality because we've done so many records together. But it's kind of easier on your own. You'd think that stood up in front of people with just an acoustic guitar would be much harder, that there is nowhere to hide. In fact, it's much much easier. I'm lucky because I've managed to write some good songs, along with a lot of old rubbish as well, over the years. And if you've got good songs, they can do the work for you. If you just play them very simply with an acoustic guitar, people can be touched and moved. In a way, it's a lot easier because you can drag the beat if you want, slow it down, speed it up, change the set around at the drop of a hat... Playing with a band, of course, it's quite different but it has advantages in other ways.

SPAZ: Apart from your own work, you’ve produced a lot of classic albums including titles from Elvis Costello, The Damned, Paul Carrack, John Hiatt, Graham Parker, The Katydids, The Fabulous Thunderbirds, The Pretenders and many others. Did you actively get involved with the arrangements and performances or did you prefer to let the artists just go ahead and do what they did best?
NL: Well, I haven't really produced anybody else for a long, long time now. The last thing I did was The Mavericks; I did a session with them in Nashville. It was quite a different experience than what I was used to. As far as I remember, I stood at the back of the studio and whenever everyone's head swiveled around to me with an inquiring expression on their face, I sort of nodded and said “Yes, very good Very good!” and everyone seemed to be very pleased. And they had somebody else do all the work that I used to do. I mean, I never laid my hand on a fader or anything like that. I just sort of turned up in a good suit and said everyone was marvelous. And that was it... it was nice work if you could get it! But it was very different when I was producing records where I used to be very involved in the arranging. When I was doing it, you were sort of a ringmaster. You had to know when to tell jokes and when to shut up and where the power lay in the group. In a group, the power might not lie with the glamorous lead singer who's on the cover of all the magazines... it might be with that rather sulky bass player over in the corner. So you make friends with him and get them to do things through him. But when the 1980s came around, I found that I wasn't in so much demand. And also, the way people made records was changing. It became computerized, you know; drum machines and things like that. And I'm not saying that there haven't been great records made with computers and drum machines but I'm not very interested in them. I didn't want to stare at a TV screen... and, as they always used to say, drum machines can't tell jokes! (everyone laughs). I wasn't very interested in working like that so I let it slip, I produce my own records because I know what I want to do and the people I work with understand the way I work. We have fun doing it, but it is sort of a retro method that we have which doesn't really suit people anymore. When I look, on the very rare occasions that I see how 'real people' make their records nowadays, I am way way out of date. All my chops and licks and everything I sort of knew have gone. Although, it's basically the same thing: you're just making a noise and having it picked up by some means.

SPAZ: Are there any artists out there, new or old, that you would love to work with?
NL: Wow, that's a tough one. Merle Haggard, maybe. But why would he be remotely interested in me? He's so fabulous that you can stick him in front of a microphone and away you go! In terms of having my 'wonderful talent' enhance somebody else, I can absolutely not think of anybody! (laughs)

SPAZ: Your biggest solo hit in the U.S. was “Cruel To Be Kind”, from the album Labour Of Lust. The song was previously released, in different form, as a b-side. What inspired you to rearrange and re-record this track?
NL: Well, it was the aforementioned Greg Geller, in fact. When he signed me... he was interested in Elvis (Costello) really. But then he came to London and he'd never heard of me, but I was producing Elvis' record and sort of making some stuff on the side myself and he happened to hear something that I'd done. I think it was “(I Love The Sound Of) Breaking Glass” or something like that. He heard that when he came to the studio and he went “Oh, well this guy's got something going on, too”. So when he looked into it, he heard this song, as you say, that was a Brinsley Schwarz demo. We (Brinsley Schwarz) tried to record it properly for an album that we made as we were breaking up. It never came out; it really wasn't a very good record. We tried to do it properly but it wasn't as good as the demo. But anyway, Greg heard this demo and when he signed me and I was making my first record, he said to me “You really ought to consider recording “Cruel To Be Kind” and I thought it was just an old Brinsley song. I'm “Yeah, man, I don't do that stuff anymore. I'm into this new Pure Pop stuff now!” He sort of leaned on me, in fact. And his tone of voice got a little more hard every time he mentioned it, “I REALLY think you should record it.....” (everyone laughs). And so, I did. He said it was a hit record. I really couldn't hear it at all. It was originally sort of a copy from a song that I really liked by Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes called “The Love I Lost”. The bass line is the same. We sort of conceived it as a Philly disco song. Then I recorded it with Rockpile, it was a Rockpile record, really. And, of course, he was right, it was a hit song, and I was wrong...and not for the first time... or the last! (everyone laughs)

SPAZ: Johnny Cash recorded your song, ‘The Beast In Me’. Although you had known him personally, what was your initial reaction when you first heard his recording of YOUR song?
NL: It's fantastic. He recorded three of my songs altogether including “The Beast In Me” and every time, he always sort of changed it to fit his act. And the way he did it was always better. He'd change a line here or... his phrasing was great. I do them now like him. Not entirely, but on a few crucial bits, he did 'em so much better that I changed how I do them to his way. And so it is when you hear covers of your songs done by people who've really got hold of it. It's always great when they do, and I know it sounds a bit cheesy to say that, but it's true. It's a tremendous compliment when people record your songs, it is wonderful. But sometimes, they tend to do a (straight) copy of one's own version. And you think “Oh, that's a pity. Why did he do that? It's already been done this way. Just have a go at it some other way!” Then other of people take it...just awful... they take it the other way. But usually, if people really have an honest go at doing it differently, I really like that. I've heard some amazing versions of, particularly, “Peace, Love & Understanding”, which has been covered so many times by different people. I've heard some amazing versions of that song...and some pretty awful ones, too! (laughs)

SPAZ: Your last three studio albums (Dig My Mood, The Convincer and At My Age) are filled with songs that sound like timeless standards that COULD fit comfortably on an album by artists as varied as Tony Bennett or Willie Nelson. Did you have anyone in mind when you wrote them… apart from yourself, of course?
NL: It's very kind of you to say all that. But yeah, sometimes you do. It's such a mysterious thing, songwriting. You'd think that the longer you do it, the easier it becomes. It's not that it gets any more difficult and it certainly doesn't get any easier. It's a mysterious process. I'm not the first person to say it, if I knew how to do it; I'd do it all the time. But you can't, it just comes. Some people can do it all the time but you find that their stuff all sort of sounds the same. I've got some friends who are extremely prolific. They've got tons of songs, but they're not really much good. Every so often, they'll come up with a really good one. I just don't get that many. Maybe I'm just green with envy! They've got all these ideas but they're not very good ideas. Maybe I'm just always trying to look for something that stands out. I subscribe to that theory that they've all kind of been written, they are all floating around in the ether and you have to sort of be able to reach up into the ether and kind of pull one down. And certainly, the older you get, the better you are at doing that... at kind of listening. My latest theory (on songwriting) is: in the apartment next door to yours, there's this radio, tuned to a fantastic radio station. It's on all the time, this radio station, but you can't really 'hear' it, it's coming through the wall, you know. And then one day, they program a new song and suddenly you notice it, you can 'hear' it coming through the wall. And you never know when they are going to play it, when it's going to come on or what stage of the song you're going to notice it... it might be in the second verse of the third verse... but every time it comes on, you stop what you're doing and put your ear up against the wall. And every time you do, you hear a little bit more of the song because you want to learn it and play it because it's such a good song. And bit by bit, you learn the song through the wall. And the trick is to wait until you've heard it all because inexperienced songwriters get a good idea, and I've done it myself. I listen to my old records, and I can hear myself doing it... you get a really good verse or a really great idea and then you finish it yourself. You don't listen to the song that's coming off this (imaginary) 'radio station'! You're impatient. When you're young, you're very impatient so you finish it yourself. “Oh, I know how this goes!” And inevitably, you'll mess it up. The trick is to really wait and listen and you'll get this full lovely, complete song. Bob Dylan's a great example, of course. He's someone who seems to appear to be standing with a direct line to heaven. down through which these songs have come and pour out of him without him seeming to do anything to them. It all seems to me like he's a kind of a complete conduit; this stuff just comes out completely untouched. Great tunes. But most songwriters aren't nearly as good as that and they start putting their own nonsense in. And I'm continually trying to NOT mess with my songs

SPAZ: There are songs that you are best known for (“Cruel To Be Kind”, “So It Goes”, “What’s So Funny…”, “Breaking Glass”) but do you have any personal favorites that you feel have been unjustly overlooked?
NL: Well, I don't toss and turn at night, seething with rage about this (laughs). But a song that I did think might have picked up a cover... it's a sort of sappy, sentimental song, but a good one, called “Let's Stay In And Make Love”, which was on The Convincer. In fact, I'm going to do my first UK tour for about 15 years. I sort of gave up on playing in the UK about 15 years ago but not in London. Whenever I play in London, I can play a big fancy room and I fill it up if I just leave it two or three years. I gave up playing in the provinces....in the other cities in the UK like Manchester, Liverpool and Leeds and all these places...simply because nobody would turn up. I got fed up with driving to these kind of horrible towns and playing to five, albeit very nice, people. I just said “I've had enough of this. I'll go where people want to hear what I do!” But apparently, all is forgiven now. I have this tour booked in May and I'm going to go out and play these towns. I'm told they're going to be good shows, that people are going to turn up. One of the things I want to do is this “Let's Stay In And Make Love”. I think it's a real sort of recession-buster. People like that real non-cynical, soppy music. And there's not doubt what you're talking about! And let's face it, I'm getting more pretty girls at my shows nowadays and they like this stuff.

SPAZ: At the end of the day, are you comfortable with the level of success you’ve achieved?
NL: Yes, I am. I've taken great steps to make sure that I never really get terribly famous! It causes so many more problems. You have far less fun. You make more money, of course, but the trick is to get to the position where you can do this. I've been very very lucky to be able to make a living doing this for so long. But there comes a point where to be any more well known is very tiresome. It wouldn't suit me at all. I like to go and do my shopping without people nudging each other and peering into my basket in the supermarket and see all the stuff I’m using. And to be followed down the street or have people bugging you when you're having a meal in a restaurant. It's just awful. But to be able to turn up and do a show and know that the people really want to be there in not-too-big of a place. And that's the other thing as well. They must be mad, these people who WANT to play in those great big places. It's awful. I've done that with Rockpile, the most experienced opening act in the world! We played all those places, opening for all those groups, and I remember thinking then “Man, one thing I do NOT want to do is have to do this for a living. It's awful!”. So the trick is to keep it small but healthy and vibrant. It's always nice when each record you do sells a few more. There's quite a lot younger people now who seem to like what I do... and a lot more women. I used to have an almost exclusively male audience and they sort of fell away when I turned the volume down. They've been replaced by some other people who don't really know what I did before.

DAVE RAYBURN: “What’s So Funny…” has become a sort of pop standard of peace, and is more often being evoked as if it were a Woody Guthrie or Bob Dylan staple at awareness rallies and political events, not to mention good old fashioned rock shows. Was there an event or a person that inspired you to write this song, and are you surprised at its longevity and significance today?
NL: Yes, I'm very surprised. It's a curious thing with that song. I wrote it in about 1973 or something like that when I was still with Brinsley Schwarz. I always think of it as the first original idea I had. Like everybody else does when they start out, you rewrite your hero's catalog. Whoever you like, you kind of rewrite their songs and it's very obvious who you like. And then after you've exhausted their catalog, you move on to somebody else's and do the same thing to them. And they are pretty obvious steals from people. And then the day comes when you're rewriting your latest hero's catalog but you put in a bit from the first guy who you ripped off, you put in a little bit of a bridge from the first guy, so that, in the end, your songs are all little bits of everybody that you've ripped off and, Hey Presto!, you have a style...your OWN style. All you need then is a good idea, and then you really are in business. And I can remember when I had that idea, 'what's so funny about peace and understanding', I almost fell over! I couldn't believe that I thought of something so brilliant as that. I didn't know where it had come from because I was so used to stealing other people's stuff. I did not know. It was a completely brand new experience for me. Albeit, the tune was borrowed a little bit from Judee Sill. I don't know if you remember Judee Sill. Rather troubled woman and she died very young. But she had a song called “Jesus Was A Cross Maker”, which was a turntable hit in the UK at that time. It had a little chord trick in there which must have stuck with me. I hadn't heard this song for years and years, but I always remember thinking that I'd stole just a little bit in “Peace Love And Understanding” from that. But apart from that, it was an original idea. And how I originally thought of it was as sort of a funny idea. At that time, everyone was getting fed up with the hippie dream. People had started to drop that and were rediscovering booze, getting into cocaine and getting much more grounded again. They were a bit embarrassed that they ever thought that this hippie stuff was ever any good. The song was written from the point of view of an old hippie talking to people who'd moved away from the hippie ideals. “You think I'm an old loser. You're making fun of me, but when it comes down to it, what's so funny about peace, love and understanding. That's all I'm saying. What's so funny....”. So, it was written as sort of a funny song, really. But I do remember thinking at the time, as it came together, “Hey, don't mess this up now. Don't make it too facetious and too stupid here because this is actually not bad!” And we did it, we made a pretty good job of it with the Brinsleys. But when the group split up, the song went with the group. It wasn't until Declan... Elvis Costello... came along, who was a big fan of the Brinsleys, said to me, one day in the studio “Let's cut 'Peace, Love And Understanding'. He's the one who put that anthemic thing in which people reacted to so favorably, and gave it a whole new meaning without ever actually changing the words or anything. So, I owe him quite a lot.

CRAIG SWEDIN: With Quiet Please in the shops alongside with the remastered and expanded Jesus Of Cool, are there any plans to reissue the rest of your back catalog?
NL: They're making noises about doing Labour Of Lust. I don't know how far to take this. There comes a time when you think “Well, wait a minute. This is a bit much.” I suppose, if they think that there's any kind of demand for it. I'd like to release another new record. I'm recording songs for a new record. But nobody's really buying records at the moment or no one knows how to sell them properly. I'm in no hurry into this gets sorted out, and it will get sorted out sooner or later. In the meantime, if the powers that be think it's a good idea, then so be it. I must say, it doesn't make my pulse race with excitement, the thought of re-releases. They ARE good records, so, if they want to, fine.

SPAZ: What’s next for Nick Lowe?
NL: I'm going on tour with Ry Cooder over here. We're going to do a few shows together with his son, Joaquin, playing drums. That's immediately after my tour in May. I'm coming over to rehearse in Los Angeles and then we'll go out and do this European tour in June. As I said, I'm working on this new record. Whenever I get a good song, I call everybody up and we put it down. I think we I've got about four or five which are really good. So, that's nearly half!

SPAZ: What do you currently have spinning in your CD player?
NL: Actually, I've got a little boy, he's only four and he seems to really like music. I thought that all kids liked music, but apparently they don't. Well, some do and some don't. But he seems to have a real feel for funny Rock 'N' Roll songs like Little Richard, Eddie Cochran and people like that. But somebody played him a Four Seasons record a little while ago and he went absolutely crazy about The Four Seasons. We took him to see the show Jersey Boys and he went completely nuts. And I thought my Four Seasons and Frankie Valli time had come and gone but hearing these records, they are fabulous records. “Walk Like A Man” and “Hang On To What We Got” and things like that... they are fabulous records, So, I suppose that's what I've been listening to.
SPAZ: At least it's not The Wiggles
NL: Yeah! (laughs)

QUIET PLEASE: NEW BEST OF NICK LOWE (2CD)

LABOUR OF LUST 

JESUS OF COOL