9.22.2008

Monday Interview: Robert Griffin

Just last night while unpacking some boxes after a recent move, I came across an old issue of Robert Griffin's late lamented Seven magazine, a 'zine dedicated to the 7" single. The issue, dating from spring 1991, includes scads of single reviews, some fiction, art and a double 7" single from Puff Tube. In it, I read comments from Griffin about the 7" single that sound much like what he shares below. They're too pricey, for example. But he's off base in one regard: "Sadly, it's already a given that it's larger counterpart is dead in the water," he writes in the opening.

In fact, while most people buy CDs or download (legally or not) their music these days, the vinyl album has experienced a renaissance of sorts. Even major labels are getting into the act again, such as Warner Brothers' Because Sound Matters online store (never mind the inherent slap at the
sound quality of its two main formats). One of the most elaborate vinyl albums to come out of late is from Griffin's own band, Prisonshake, on his Scat label. As someone who doesn't listen to much vinyl any more, I opted for the CD release (itself a cut or two above the norm in terms of packaging), and have been listening to Dirty Moons steadily since.

It's Prisonshake's first album since 1993's The Roaring Third, and, despite the band's 20-year existence, only its second album proper. Of course, one could count the boxed set I'm Really Fucked Now as an album, too, or perhaps three: it included a vinyl album, a cassette, a CD and a 7" single, with no overlap in songs. All this in 1990. I was among the lucky few to snag this gem, lured by nothing more than the chutzpah of a band willing to package its music in such a customer-unfriendly way. I was rewarded with some surprisingly catchy dirty blues, as if the Rolling Stones had been birthed during the post-punk era rather than the early 1960s.

In t
he meantime, Griffin's Scat label issued albums from several other bands, perhaps none more important than Guided by Voices Vampire on Titus and Bee Thousand. He also relocated from Cleveland to St. Louis. But now, resuming up a career that seems the inverse of GBV's Robert Pollard in terms of prolificacy, Griffin and Co. have picked right up with Dirty Moons from where they left off. While it is perhaps even more raw and experimental than The Roaring Third -- helped in part by the fact that it's doubled length offers plenty of room to stretch out and explore -- it sounds like Prisonshake. The disc finds guitarist Griffin and singer Doug Enkler joined by two new members (if a 12-year term can be considered "new") in bassist Steve Scariano and drummer Patrick Hawley.

TIRBD: Why 12 years to get this done and out?

RG: Lon
g story short, a combination of depression, getting lost in details, sometimes being broke, sometimes just not wanting to, sometimes we weren't speaking, it'd be a different reason at any given time. But ultimately, we set the bar very high and did not want to contribute yet another average record to the beyond-glutted pool of music out there. I also needed to have certain musical experiences before what I imagined could become real. And plenty of time to do it in.

Will any of the music you recorded in the interim that didn't make Dirty Moons ever see the light of day?

Given the funds and inclination, maybe. Or we might prefer to record new material since there is effort and time involved in finishing up yet more old business. There is only one song that is in a completed, ready-to-release state, a few others I have acceptable rough mixes of – but most of the best outtakes lack vocals and the additional guitar and percussion parts that were envisioned for the songs. There's maybe an album's worth that could be put together, and half of it would be alternate – very alternate – versions of songs that did make the cut. The several other hours are pretty much embryonic or clearly inferior takes. Honestly the only scenario I see this happening under is if Dirty Moons is a much more successful album than I expect it to be, or very far in the future.

You were a vocal proponent of the 7" single, but haven't issued more than one featuring your own music that I'm aware of in the past decade. Have you fallen out of love with the format?

There were four between '95 and '98, but all on other labels. Mostly it was economic – they were getting more and more expensive to make and fewer people were buying them. At some point the price point bugs me both as a consumer and as an artist – the point of the 45 is cheap thrills, impulse spending. When they're $5-$7 a throw it makes less sense to me. The rest of the band was pretty indifferent to whether we released any. But true enough, my imagination was more focused on the full-length format, that was a factor too.

What role does packaging play for you? The Dirty Moons CD sleeve feels like an old vinyl double album gatefold, for example, which gives the listener some idea of your intent before you even pop the disc in the player.

That's certainly my intention, I'm glad it works. I see the double album as a very distinct format – the truism, "it'd be a better single album," applied to all the greats even, misses the point. A double album is supposed to be more than just catchy songs; it gives you the room to make more expansive worlds. The double album should not merely be a great quantity of songs, but a tapestry. The way many people interact with music now is pretty much alien to this concept. Not that one has to listen to the whole thing at once - I wouldn't. I encourage people to just listen to one random side at a go, or even just that side for a week or two – then wander. It's a party, there are many rooms, and you won't notice everything the first time you walk through. Many albums aim to give the listener a dozen steaks or pies or whatever, it's good to have some garnishes on the plate, an interesting sauce, a nice bourbon...

It's not that Dirty Moons is a hard record to "get;" it's not, it's rock and fucking roll, our kind, but there's depth that should naturally reveal itself over time. Ultimately we aim to give good value for money, to make an album that doesn't easily go stale and will seem different at different times.

The art is important to me of course, but I find it more difficult to come up with art for my own band - I guess because I'm more about hearing than seeing us and I have to turn on another part of my brain to translate. The LP edition has an 8 page lyric/photo book that has some material not in the CD. The label designs and alternate titles are pretty wack, too.

There is a wealth of Prisonshake material that isn't easy to come by or listen to these days, thanks to the various formats (particularly the non-CD stuff in I'm Really Fucked Now). Do you envision a boxed set some day that gathers all of that material on CD, or digital release?

That's definitely been on my mind, but I'm not sure how it will all play out yet, I'm still trying to get everything properly digitized. But I do have some obligations on that end to our Australian label, most likely a best of the original lineup '87-'92. I'll probably release that here too, at least digitally. A boxed set would be fabulous, but I hesitate to make predictions. Regardless, everything will eventually be available again, even if just digitally.

What has it been like to get out and play live again? Have things changed in the touring world since you last were out? Do you still get the same charge from performing?

We truly enjoy each others' company and we fix it all up to be relatively painless. We played at SXSW in 2007 and that was good all around, before that in 2005 in St. Louis, then you'd have to go back to 2000 – there were probably seven or eight shows between '95 and 2000. I don't expect it to be any different than the last few, and they were a blast. Performing is not an important element for me obviously, but once I'm on stage I usually get lost in the music immediately, charmed by my own spell.

When the last Prisonshake disc was released, the Internet was still fairly new, and you probably did as much business through magazine and zine ads and mail order as you did in stores. How have things changed?

The percentage of mailorder vs. wholesale is really about the same now, but the Internet has made mailorder infinitely easier. Prisonshake in particular were fortunate as we were kind of a record store band in some parts – it was definitely the advocacy and enthusiasm of individuals who worked retail that drove a good bit of our sales before The Roaring Third. The packaging and wacky formats probably helped a bit, too.

I think the biggest change is that there are many fewer people interested in rock that isn't so strictly genre-based, not that that was ever a very large pool.

Scat is probably best known as the home to Guided by Voices' breakout releases. How has that helped and hurt? You have name recognition, but perhaps people expect something from the label that much of the rest of the roster, Prisonshake in particular, doesn't deliver.

Well, different audiences perceive the label in different ways, but I guess GBV had a big audience so that is a common impression. Others associate the label more with Cleveland and some of the reissue projects, or whatever particular bands they're into. The Speaking Canaries may not be household names, but those who like them are pretty rabid, and that's true of many of the bands I've put out. I've always avoided one-dimensionality, though I know that can be helpful commercially. The common thread is that all these artists, whether Damon Che, Bob Pollard, Franklin Bruno, John Petkovic or others is that they each have vision and a natural, idiosyncratic talent of some sort that manifests itself in a rock context. Even Brian DiPlacido (A Bullet for Fidel) – I can't believe I still sell copies of his album Cold Before Morning, it might even turn a profit in a couple more years. Though Brian dropped out of music in '95, that was an iconic and brilliant enough album that it still gets spread around word-of-mouth. I'm really proud of that one, I'd love to send Brian a royalty check someday.

When I'm thinking about whether to release something or not, the most important question is whether people will still want to hear it in 10, 20, 30 years. I'm not always right about how many people will be interested, or when they'll be interested, but you could find a small group of fanatics for just about any artist I've released. But given the eclectic nature of the label, those groups of people don't often check out what else is on offer. On the other hand, there are some brave, dedicated souls who buy everything, some of whom I've been shipping packages to since the label started. I imagine their record collections look a whole lot like mine.

Scat was identified with the Cleveland scene; is that still the case now that you're in St. Louis? Have you found much to like in your new hometown?

As an old friend of mine used to say, "You can take the boy out of Cleveland, but you can't take the Cleveland out of the boy." As far as what people identify Scat with, it depends which releases they own I suppose, I couldn't really say. I think there will always be a Cleveland taint on the label, I like that, and hope to continue that association with future releases.

There's lots to like about Saint Louis, although when I moved here I didn't intend to stay, I might still leave someday, but have less wanderlust than in younger years. Saint Louis is soft, green, kind of provincial, often very hot (I like), sunny for much of the year, has lots of unique charms and history. The pace is a little easier, but maybe that's just me.

MP3: Crush Me

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