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| photo: courtesy St. Martins Press |
Q: The last time I saw you perform in concert was with Tom Tom Club here in Riverside, California at Romano’s Restaurant in 2012.
A: That little pizza place? I remember telling my agent afterwards: ‘Really?’
Q: How did you prepare to write the book? Did you keep journals in the past?
A: You know, I always thought I should keep a journal, but I never did. I’m also kicking myself that I didn’t have a camera back in those days. I could have taken some really interesting photographs the way, say Chris Stein [of Blondie] did and lots of other professional photographers did.
Q: In the first chapter, you write about admiring drummers who made you want to dance and feel good about yourself. What are some examples of rhythm men that you revered?
A: Definitely Ringo Starr and the Motown people. You knew Ringo’s name, but a lot of times [on record credits], you didn’t even know the drummer’s name. You might know the lead singer’s name. I didn’t know the drummer for Motown was Benny Benjamin [of Motown studio band the Funk Brothers] because his name wasn’t on any of the records.
I also dug people like [Mel Taylor] the drummer for the Ventures [classic lineup]. I loved Gene Krupa. At some point, I watched the [1959] ‘Gene Krupa Story’ movie on TV when I was young starring Sal Mineo. I thought, ‘This guy is great.’ So I got some of his old records. They weren’t so old back then. He was a guy who really impressed me and I came to like his whole schtick very much.
Q: During the 1960s and ‘70s, it was common to hear about band members that went to art school. Why do you think the worlds of music and art intertwined so often back then?
A: I think a lot of artists also play a musical instrument and vice versa. A lot of musicians who paint are terrible painters. Have you noticed? With all due respect to Miles Davis, oh man, stick to the trumpet! I’m just kidding around. Music and art go hand in hand. The impulse that makes you want to create a painting is the same type of impulse from your heart or soul if you want to write a song or play in a band.
Q: Do you think yours and Tina’s art school backgrounds really came in handy when you helped conceptualize Talking Heads artwork for album covers like “Remain in Light” and other things?
A: David, Tina and I shared an aesthetic. We appreciated a lot of the same things. We’d go to galleries and modern music concerts together: Robert Wilson plays and things like that. We didn’t just go to CBGBs. In the end, CBGBs won (laughs).
Q: That club nurtured so many influential bands in the 1970s. What drew so many musicians, artists and music fans to that place, despite it having a dank atmosphere? Was there a certain allure?
A: It had a certain charm once you got indoors. The charm might’ve even begun if it was a nice evening on the sidewalk out in front. There was a good camaraderie there. One of the reasons it became such a good hangout was if bands had played there, the owner Hilly [Kristal] would allow you to return anytime and not have to pay admission. So it became like a clubhouse for all these bands - The Ramones, Blondie, Television, Mink DeVille, The Mumps, The Marbles, The Shirts. On any given night, they would all be there. You might even get a free drink out of it if the bartender liked your band!
Q: Was living in The Bowery at the time, nearby so many actors, actresses, artists and musicians like a melting pot of creativity for everyone?
A: It was definitely the right place at the right time. There’s not much happening there now. Too bad.
Q: I found the chapter about touring with the Ramones in Europe very interesting. How did all of you stay sane while having to put up with all of those guys’ antics?
A: Johnny Ramone was mean as a snake. He eventually came around many years later. He was never really what you’d call a nice guy. That was a groundbreaking tour. When we did that tour, we couldn’t really get a gig in New Jersey. It was very exciting. Every show was sold out and pandemonium. [In 1977], The Sex Pistols and the Clash and The Jam had just released their first albums. There was something really happening. We were over there touring with the Ramones and at the same time, Television was touring with Blondie in Europe. Sometimes our paths would cross. Once in Glasgow, all four bands were playing there on the same night! Crazy.
Q: Your collaborations with Brian Eno resulted in the groundbreaking albums “More Songs About Buildings and Food,” “Fear of Music,” “Remain in Light.” Did Eno help bring out something in the band that other producers might not have because he wasn’t a traditional musician?
A: The thing about Brian was, most producers want to have a hit record. Everybody will make money and that will be a feather in their cap. But Brian had a different kind of criteria as a producer. He couldn’t care less about having a hit record. What he wanted was to raise the bar artistically and conceptually to the point where it still sounded good, but that it was somehow different and pleasantly surprising to him. He was very critical of anything that sounded like [long-running British music chart countdown TV show] ‘Top of the Pops.’ He was a good producer. We enjoyed working with him very much.
Q: One thing that really impressed me after reading the book was how you guys waited until you felt it was the right time to sign with Sire Records and Seymour Stein and educated yourselves about the music business first. Back then, were you aware of how other bands had been burned by signing bad record contracts?
A: We had heard about that, yes. None of us had any real experience in the music business. My father was an attorney. All of our parents were professionals. They wanted us to be careful and we understood that that was a good idea. So we got good advice from lawyers and whatnot.
It was our own decision to delay making our first record. We could tell that we just weren’t ready yet. We made a few demos and we heard a few live recordings and we thought, ‘Well, this is ok. It’s very interesting. But it is not the type of thing that is going to be a record people are going to want to listen to over and over again.’
So we just put the brakes on, even though Seymour was offering us a record deal. So was another guy out in Berkeley, California at Beserkley Records. That was a funny label for a while. We just knew if we made a record and it was a flop, we might never get a chance to make another one. We waited. I don’t listen to that first album all the time, but when I do hear it, I really enjoy it.
Q: Your business acumen extended to the fact that the band didn’t take advance money to record the albums. Because you didn’t have Sire execs breathing down your neck, saying, ‘I don’t hear a single,’ did that make for a more relaxed and creative atmosphere in studios?
A: Exactly. That was the reason. That was actually [our manager] Gary Kurfirst’s idea: take the advance and pay for the record ourselves. Also, that way, if you’re aware of all the costs, you tend to not run up the bill.
Q: In the post-punk/new wave era, a lot of bands had a distinct fashion sense that tended to overshadow the music. But Talking Heads typically wore street clothes and didn’t buy into the whole visual extravagance pervasive at the time. Do you think that lack of image helped your credibility? People were more focused on your music than what you wore at photo shoots.
A: Yes, I think so. We liked to dress up in costumes on Halloween, but not like every day (laughs). During the early days of CBGBs, the New York Dolls were just about to break up and I went to see one of their last shows. They wore all red patent leather (outfits). It was really cool and everything, but we knew we weren’t going to be able to beat the Dolls at their own game. Or Queen. We also knew musically, we weren’t going to be able to beat the Rolling Stones or The Who at their game. It was very deliberate that we would come from an outsider place. That’s what we did.
Q: Here in Southern California, KROQ and its DJ Rodney on the Roq was a big supporter. How vital was that radio exposure when you started out?
A: Rodney was very important as a tastemaker and also a DJ. Fortunately, he liked us. I don’t know if he liked us as much as the Ramones or Blondie, but he liked us. So did the rest of the guys, like Jed the Fish. KROQ was very good to our band.
Q: In 1982, Talking Heads played the massive US Festival near San Bernardino, Calif. What do you recall about playing it?
A: It was so hot. I remember spending a lot of time with Tina and our first son, who was a toddler, and Andy from The Police. They had these trailers which were air conditioned, but the air conditioner was really loud. You had to shout to hear each other. They had these little astro turf lawns in front of the trailers with chairs and we spent a lot of time hanging out and guzzling bottled water and trying to keep the baby happy. The show was very well run by Bill Graham.
Q: In the book, you write about being backstage or elsewhere and male musicians would always walk directly toward Tina to chat. Is that where, as you write in the book, having “kindness, patience and humor” came in handy for you? You never really got jealous in those situations?
A: Fortunately with Tina, she never gave me any reasons to be jealous after we were married. Before we were married, there might have been a few times where I thought, ‘Uh-oh, I don’t like this.’ After we committed to each other, I never had any reason to worry about that. I was entertained by it when people would make a beeline to Tina because she is a very attractive person.
Q: Turning to Tom Tom Club, when the early singles and debut album became successful, did that give you and Tina a boost of self-confidence, considering David rarely gave you the credit you deserved?
A: Yeah, I think it did. It was good for us and it was also good for Talking Heads, because it signaled even to David and Jerry that perhaps what [we] brought to the table was nothing to sneeze at. If David’s solo projects had gone very well...they didn’t really until much later. Had they done so, we would have been very happy for David. Likewise for Jerry.
Q: You and Tina started to produce other acts in the late 1980s like Ziggy Marley and then Happy Mondays. Did you have any idea what you were getting into with the latter group on what became 1992's Yes, Please? I'd think the experience was like an elementary school teacher supervising an unruly class.
A: (Laughs) Yes, except there were a lot of drugs. We had no idea what we were getting into. All we knew was the Happy Mondays were on Factory Records owned by Tony Wilson, who we liked very much. We had met him a couple times and had done his TV show. We thought, ‘Great, they’ve had some hits. Their records are going up the charts. What the heck. Let’s work with them.’ A couple of them came to meet us and they were very nice and well dressed. When we decided to make the record in Barbados, at Eddy Grant’s studio, we were already down there waiting for them when we found out Shaun [Ryder] had dropped his giant bottle of methadone on the floor of the airport. We didn’t know he was a heroin addict and all that. Shaun is still alive and well.
Q: After David broke up the band, I read some interviews where you and Tina said you’d wished it could have continued. Did the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction serve as a nice capper to Talking Heads' career instead?
A: The (induction) was a nice closure. It worked for me. It was not our most wonderful performance, but I tell ya, it wasn’t bad considering we were performing in front of a thousand record company executives dressed in tuxedos and their wives. At the Waldorf Astoria [hotel], it was a good night. A very bittersweet and emotional night. I was so happy we were able to bring Hilly Kristal up on stage.
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