Rhonda wrote to John:
>Have you seen an interview with the guys from the B-Side magazine? I
>just picked it up, but don't know if anyone typed it in yet.
Hello all - I've attached an Oct/90 interview from B-Side Magazine. I also have another from Apr/92 that I'll send out later.
Thats all I've seen from that mag. Are there any other interesting ones from B-Side? -Dick
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Publisher: B-Side Magazine (New Jersey, USA)
Issue: Vol.4, No.5 Date: Oct, 1990
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FEATURES
THE CHURCH
By Sandra A. Garcia
Sparkling mind addictions.
"I was just randomly flipping through channels," recalls Steve Kilbey about how he came to be watching the financial news on television. "I never follow the stock market. But I like to sometimes just randomly flip through channels and pick things out of the air." On this occasion, he selected "Gold Afternoon Fix," a term for the price of gold that is set in the afternoon and fixed overnight. Despite any drug- related connotations, it was Wall Street that provided the title for the latest record by the prolific collective known as the Church.
Gold Afternoon Fix is a walk across a velvet blanket spread over a bed of rounded stones. The surface is lush and inviting, but conceals a convoluted terrain underneath, unexpected but never too jagged. Dense and slightly impenetrable, the Church's music stands up to or requires repeated listening. No "I'm in love with her and I feel fine" simplicities here. Like mental New Year's Eve confetti, it soars immediately and ultimately finds its way into unlikely nooks in the mind; months later, those bits of pastel paper caught in one's shoe or pocket recall that blurry, forgotten celebration.
The work is more of a collaboration of the full band than in the past. Bass player Steve Kilbey, guitarists Marty Willson-Piper and Peter Koppes and drummer Richard Ploog all share in the music credits. Like their last album, 1988's Starfish, Gold Afternoon Fix was produced by Waddy Wachtel. "It was a kind of a compromise to get this album underway to use him again," says Kilbey, who spoke from Cincinnati as they were winding down their U.S. tour.
Wachtel seems an unlikely choice for the Church because of his association with the Southern California scene of the mid '70's. Kilbey explains why he supported Wachtel's involvement with the band. "It was just suggested. And I like bizarre suggestions. I like juxtaposing elements in music. I like juxtaposing elements in words and in art generally. And I think if you do it in your life- I thought that was a strange juxtaposition to put Waddy Wachtel with the Church and I was interested to see what would come from that."
While Wachtel is expanding beyond his original roots by working with artists like the Church and Iggy Pop, the Church have defied their own geographic associations. Their homeland of Australia and its pub scene have a history of producing direct, in-your-face music, more hard-edged than the Church's. The band was able to develop in spite of the scene's apparent obstacles because, as Kilbey indicates, those constraints don't really exist. "We played on the Australian pubs. That's pretty overrated, the whole thing. It's no different to the bars people play at here. It's just a little legend that someone's having a bit of fun propagating. The Australian pub scene's no worse than the English pub scene or any other country that has rock and roll bands. And people go to pubs to see bands like the Church as much as they go and see Midnight Oil." Appreciating their music might seem to require more thought than was possible over clatter of drinks, though. "I would say that when we played some of those pubs, there wasn't a real lot of thinking going on in the audience." More attentive audiences would have been preferable, "but we did alright. We never got things thrown at us often."
Another myth cleared up: the value of touring. Starfish produced the band's first Top 40 hit in America, 'Under the Milky Way.' The single made the album their most successful, but they also supported it with nine months on the road. They scheduled a much briefer outing for this round. "I'm not a great believer in touring as a thing that really achieves much at all other than it's nice to play and people hopefully enjoy it. But I don't think it sells records. It's now like we've done two months and that's about all that's needed, and that's about all that's appropriate, so that's the end of it," says Kilbey.
Kilbey considered scrapping the tour plans entirely because of hearing damage. He consulted a doctor about a constant ringing in his ears, but a complete work stoppage was unnecessary. Even the concessions he made were of little help. "I bought myself a very expensive pair of earphones. However, I lose the vibe incredibly when I'm wearing them. I just can't play with them in, so I'm just putting up with it. Sacrifice for rock and roll."
Missing from the current tour was long-time Church drummer Ploog who took what was officially termed a "year-long leave of absence." By this point, though, Kilbey characterizes Ploog's returning as "highly unlikely." For his replacement, the band put at the top of its list Jay Dee Daugherty, who came aboard for this tour. "We're hoping Jay Dee can fit the Church in around his other commitments," comments Kilbey. "He's Patti Smith's drummer first. She's going to be doing another album. So that's his first love, I suppose."
Koppes and Willson-Piper contribute lead vocals on the songs on Fix for which they penned the lyrics, 'Transient' and 'Russian Autumn Heart,' respectively. Kilbey carried the remainder of the lyric writing and singing, with all working on the music. In light of the large contributions that those three make to the group, being the fourth member might seem an intimidating position for anyone. Kilbey discounts this possible difficulty. "No, Jay Dee fitted in two minutes after we had our first jam. Absolutely no problem with that."
The Church's live cover of Patti Smith's 'Dancing Barefoot' preceded Daugherty's arrival. "There was a friend of ours in Australia who had a single of it out," details Kilbey. "A guy called Damien Lovelock from the Celibate Rifles. And he wanted to do the song with us. So we learned it and we did it with him one night and then that was it. And so we thought, 'Well, now seeing we've learned the bloody song, we might as well keep playing it after all.' And it is kind of a nice song." It's unlikely that the tune will crop up on vinyl, though. "Since we've started doing it, I found out that everybody and their roadie has got a version of it out there. U2 have got a version." And, no doubt, their roadie.
Their recent Philadelphia appearance at the Chestnut Cabaret, a large club, put them in closer contact with the audience than they were in 1988 when they headlined at the reserved-seated Tower Theater. Kilbey used the opportunity to interact with the audience at the Chestnut. During the show, he deadpanned, "Marty, somebody's calling you," addressing the band's lead guitarist with the high cheekbones and perfect teeth. "She loves you," he droned. "She really loves you." He got more laughs with familiar bass lines from dinosaur rock classics like 'Smoke on the Water,' but also took a shot at the post-modern set by striking an exaggerated Peter Murphy pose.
Steve explains his approach towards working off an audience. "It's just a night-by-night thing. It's sort of like you go out to a restaurant with a bunch of people. Sometimes you can be the life of the party and other times you sit in the corner and don't say a word. I think that's pretty much what was happening. If you get an interesting audience and there's people yelling out one-liners that are setting you up for a joke, you start getting involved. Other times, you go on stage and you realize the moment you step up there that this isn't the situation for jokes. People just want you to play your stuff and they don't want to hear any kind of patter." I praise his sarcasm from that evening in Philly, and he uses my comment to expand on his point. "See, that's the problem there. The sarcasm's entertaining, but does it enhance the songs that follow it? Not necessarily, so you have to judge that one."
The band also got involved with one of their support acts. During the Starfish tour, former Television guitarist Tom Verlaine joined the Church for their encore after his doing his own opening set. However, they haven't always felt such a strong affinity with other bands with whom they have toured. "It's been a strange thing, opening acts. All kinds of politics are involved. Tom Verlaine is someone that we all loved and were really happy to have on the tour. Most of the other people have been sort of- the agents wanted them or some record company. Or it's a favor to somebody," says Kilbey.
He suggests a different arrangement. "If I had my way, if I was going to see my favorite band, I wouldn't want to see another rock band on before them. Or perhaps I'd just like to see them and no opening act. But I'd rather probably see a string quartet or a juggler or a magician or something. I don't want my ears blasted away before I hear my favorite. I'm not big on having other bands."
The Church often draws comparisons to late '60's psychedelia, but their associations with Television and the Patti Smith Group suggest stronger ties to the New York scene of the mid-70's. Steve confirms and expands on this observation. "I'd be more inclined to lean towards that stuff than towards '60's psychedelia. Anything that's good, I feel free to dabble in. Any elements that I think that I can use, I'll take, whether it's from rap in 1990 or whether it's from Erik Satie in 1920. I'll take anything at all that I think I can use."
"Haunting," "dreaming" and "ethereal" are frequently used in connection with the band. Kilbey feels that they come across as more grounded in concert. "I don't think you'd see the Church live and say we were dreamy or haunting. I think we're kind of nasty rock and roll. It's good to have the thing on record where we're more that way and live we're more the other way. The difference between a play and a film."
The Church members are flooding the market with their creative output. In addition to Gold Afternoon Fix, their seventh album, they have also released a compilation video, Goldfish (Jokes, Magic Souvenirs). Arista, their third and current U.S. label, has reissued their back catalogue. (The re-release of their debut, Of Skins and Heart, now includes all the tracks that were part of the Australian, British and American self-titled versions.) Kilbey, Koppes and Willson-Piper each have recent solo albums out. Kilbey is also half of Hex, a project with Game Theory vocalist Donnette Thayer. In a decade, they have churned out sixteen albums through their joint and single efforts.
Goldfish is similar to self-titled video that was available only in Australia a few years back. "It's all of that with the stuff from Starfish and the new album, plus between each video, it's some home footage of backstage little vignettes, little things," describes Kilbey. They didn't tape those bits with the home video in mind. "It was just someone with a camera was hanging around filming us being stupid."
More intentional was the band's own censoring of their video for 'You're Still Beautiful,' in which "fucking" is obtrusively bleeped. "I just thought it was funny to do it ourselves. Keep someone else from doing it," says Kilbey. "I like the idea that it draws your attention to it more than if it hadn't been there." As for the star of the video, "He's an out- of- work actor who was just selected for his outrageous portrayal of a washed- up transvestite."
Remindlessness, From the Well, and Rhyme are, respectively, Kilbey, Koppes and Willson-Piper's latest solo endeavors. Kilbey explains the reason for their individual efforts. "We all write songs and stuff and we just want to get it out. It's fun to do a record on your own and it's profitable, as well." One advantage of the solo process is its speed. "It's much faster. You don't have to ask opinions. You just do what you like. Play all the stuff, produce it, record it and do whatever you want. That's the beauty of it, that's the drawback of it, is that you have no one to say, 'No, you shouldn't do that. That's not very good.' The Church is a more considered thing."
Solo work also allows for a more consistent sound, keeping all the irregularity outside the group. Kilbey highlights other benefits as well as the band's creative environment. "Well, many hands make light work, don't they? It's just three or four people thinking together, working together, is going to be better than one guy saying, 'I think you should all do this,' and three reluctant donkeys."
Kilbey quickly insists that the Church won't become merely a source of financing for their smaller solo outings, but he takes a long, thoughtful pause before explaining what would prevent that situation. "The idea of the Church still fills us all with a certain amount of pride in what we have and what we've done and what we've achieved. I think we have too much respect for the thing to want to milk it like that." I suggest that even though it doesn't have his name on it the way a solo record would, it's still a part of him and he wouldn't want to degrade it. He jumps in much faster for this response. "Very much. The Church, in a way, means more to me than the solo stuff."
I had unwittingly set myself up by complimenting his sarcasm. As we wrap up the interview, I ask if there's anything he wanted to add.
"I would like to add 1 and 2," he responds. I give him the go-ahead, expecting tremendous revelations on points we hadn't yet covered. "1 and 2 equals 3."
He then inquires as to the content of our magazine, jesting "I thought it was a magazine about having honey and stuff." No, it's not Bee-Side!
Underneath those dreamy, ethereal layers lays a surprising sense of humor.
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