I’ve mentioned before that this solo show is the first I’ve done in many, many years, despite my constant – and in many ways – increased involvement with music in the same span. Here, in brief, is the reason:
When, in my teens, I first played club shows in Boston, I was all agog at the prospect of jumping in and seeing what it the scene was like. That was quickly followed by arrogance at thinking that I – and my band – was better than everyone else and an accompanying, protective, self-imposed alienation at the whole lot of them. My band moved into a house together and carried on as if nothing but us mattered. True, we had a great time and made some memorable records, but after some time I began to think that it wasn’t the best policy to be a standoffish dick to everybody.
A Sort-Of Best Of
As that band reached its natural end, I began writing songs in a different vein. Lots of songs. Mostly terrible songs, but enough of them seemed promising enough that I decided to form a totalitarian yet socially open-minded band. In February of 1994 (to coincide with the anniversary of the first Russian Revolution), Betty Goo was born, in the form of an embarrassingly earnest eponymous cassette release. I didn’t know where this thing was going to take me, but after a few years it resulted in an album of which I am still very proud. gooicide (released in October of 1997 to coincide with the anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution) was partly a concept album, inspired by the fact that this band was jaded and, like its predecessor, about to reach its natural end. With 18 songs clocking in at under 45 minutes, it’s a fairly frantic jumble of self-loathing, social commentary, and pop-culture adoration. Ironically (yes, motherfuckers, IRONICALLY), the record got us a small amount of acclaim and we started playing a lot, and actually got further along (let’s not call it success) than we ever had before, resulting in our staying together for another couple of years.
Yet, as I struggled to write the follow-up to gooicide, I started to feel that its prophetic side should have been better heeded. In fact, we recorded about 75% of what would have been our next album in a weekend in July (sorry, no Soviet tie-in here). After reviewing the tracks, I called up the other guys and said “this kinda sucks, let’s call it a day.” They agreed. Those guys had been amazingly supportive of this thing and we all knew it was over.
I grew tired of my songwriting perspective, tired of the way I wrote, musically. It was both heartbreaking and liberating. As I had begun hanging out with people who were immensely better songwriters than I, it seemed the natural thing to fade back to the sideline. And this proved very rewarding, as I have been a part of some really fantastic records and tours over the past decade. But now the little gremlins in my head are starting to throw ideas at me and I’m starting to listen. I think I’ll have a couple songs done by next week, but I’m not going to rush them along. I’ve got plenty of time. Plus, Betty Goo never played on the West Coast, so it’ll be like it just took us a long time to get Christine’s Ford Taurus across the Great Divide and into California. What I’m saying is: I’m gonna play some old songs next week. I still like ‘em and I hope they rock Saint Rocke.
Here’s how we did it back then:
holy fuck that video is awesome! as is the song!
Aw, shit, thanks, man! You are killing me with kindness this week.
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