THE MEDICINE SHOW’S HEART OF DARKNESS Steve Wynn & the Dream Syndicate Pt. 1
Sep 03, 2010
The songwriter journeys back downriver, more than a quarter century later, to probe the making of a troubled masterpiece.
BY FRED MILLS
The reissue earlier this summer of the Dream Syndicate's epochal second album, 1984's Medicine Show, was greeted - justifiably - by the sort of critical hosannas typically reserved for some long-overdue artifact from Bob Dylan, Neil Young or Van Morrison. Yours truly, in fact, was wholly unrestrained with the praise, singling out Steve Wynn's character-driven lyrical narratives and the band's adventuresome arrangements and muscular playing. "The record is panoramic, massive," I wrote, "yet it's also a soul-purger in the most primal, essential sense."
That this Medicine Show Mk. 2010 (Water Records) also boasts fresh liner notes, a raft of live bonus material and jawdroppingly fine remastered sound makes it a prime candidate for one of the year's most essential reissues, too. (You can read our dissection of the album elsewhere on the BLURT site.)
Although the band - Wynn, vocals/guitars; Karl Precoda, guitars; Dennis Duck, drums; Dave Provost, bass - that recorded Medicine Show would eventually splinter following a lengthy national tour, Wynn remains justifiably proud of the record and has very distinct memories of what went into its creation. And he was more than willing to settle in for a conversation one balmy July afternoon to reminisce at length. "Of all the records I've made," he offers, "that one's the hardest to pin down; it's its own beast."
Let's see if we can tame it, then...
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BLURT: In an earlier interview, you and I were talking about how Medicine Show is the final piece of the back catalog, the last hole that needs plugging, considering everything else had already been restored to print. So finally you're able to do that.
STEVE WYNN: Oh yeah. It's been frustrating. I've been trying to do that, really, for going on 15 years now! I remember when I started the crusade, and it has not been easy. Well, it was not easy, and then suddenly it became very easy! Part of the problem was A&M kept being swallowed up by bigger fish year by year - it was like Apocalypse Now, going up to find Colonel Kurtz! [laughs] Trying to get to the heart of the matter! You'd find one lawyer, and then talk to another lawyer, and it was just surprisingly difficult.
Was this final round of negotiations you and the Water label working together to get the record? Give us a sense of how a band is able to pry an artifact loose from the label behemoth [in this case, Universal, which currently owns the A&M catalog].
Well, Water stepped in just recently. It's been various people championing it along the way. I remember when John Silva, my old manager, was trying to pry it loose, and he, this guy with some serious clout at the height of the Nirvana-Beastie Boys-Beck things going on, couldn't get it done. Later on Jim Barber, who knew a lot of people, made an effort to get it. And various lawyers tried. I can't explain exactly why it was so difficult.
Years ago I was interviewing Holly Beth Vincent, from Holly & the Italians, whose first two albums were finally getting reissued, and she outlined what a torturous path it had been. Her feeling was that for a long time the major label that owned those albums preferred to keep the tapes locked up and have no one make any money from them rather than license them for less than their asking price. She had tried for ages.
Right! And the point I kept trying to make was that I'm not trying to get rich; in fact, that record is quite unrecouped! I won't see royalties, ever. I just wanted to see it out there. My feeling was that, yeah, they could see some of the money back. My theory is that the Dream Syndicate was too popular just for them to let [the tapes] go, but not popular enough for them to want to bother with it.
That's a pretty damning limbo to be stuck in.
That's my guess - right in the middle of that. Because you know there are things in their [Universal's] catalog that just get licensed or put out by them. They didn't want to let it go but they didn't want to keep it either. This went on for a long time.
Then all of a sudden Filippo at Water Records called me up and told me, "I saw Medicine Show on a list of things that are available for licensing." I said, "You gotta be kidding me." That's what he specializes in. One thing he does is goes around and cherry picks stuff that's out of print on other labels that Water wants to put out. So he had the opportunity with this, which was great because I've worked with him in the past on some of my solo stuff and he let me be real involved with the reissue.
Water always does a quality job. Sound, liner notes, packaging. And that's what people want from a reissue. I don't have to tell you how shoddy reissues were early on, when LPs first started getting put out on CD in the ‘80s. Horrible sound quality from 3rd or 4th generation tapes. Double albums that would have tracks eliminated so the entire thing would fit on a single CD. So you were really involved with overseeing the remastering, the whole process?
Everything. The mastering, the liners, the packaging, pushing for digipak over jewel case - every aspect. Because I wanted it to be done right. See, this will probably be the last CD release for Medicine Show - maybe there will be a 3D hologram version in two years, I dunno! - so I wanted this to be done properly.
One thing of note is the remastered sound: the depth and clarity is phenomenal.
Oh yeah, man, it sounds like what we were listening to when we made the record, what was coming out of the speakers in the studio. It never sounded that good before, because even with the vinyl, we had the problem where both sides were too long, [a fidelity] issue. That was the concern. Now it's a bit easier, but back then it was a real concern. For example, we were editing "John Coltrane Stereo Blues" down from about 14 minutes to the final version, about 8 ½, and we were doing that not because we were trying to make a "hit single" but to make it fit! Just chopping off parts of intros, verses, solos. Making it more economical, and it probably did serve the song well, but it was because we wanted to make sure the record didn't skip [due to excessive length].
That's something a lot of the generation nowadays might not be aware of. The studio rat equivalent of having to walk five miles in the snow to school each morning...
"Lemme tell you the way things used to be, kids"... yeah. You know how it was. I've always thought about how the medium dictates the art. It's funny to think about how certain records mean a lot to people, yet a lot of the decisions that were made on them were based around really weird parameters. "Yeah, that song's shorter because we were trying to keep it from skipping." Something weird about that.
I think the original vinyl Medicine Show was really good. The CD [A&M's 1989 reissue] was terrible. I don't blame that on the mastering, because Bill Inglot, who mastered it, always does a great job. It's just that CDs sounded like crap back then. So [during the remastering] I remembered how exciting it was making this record and hearing all the stuff as we were going along, and how happy I was. And I haven't had that experience of hearing it that way until now.
I've had musicians tell me that the experience cuts both ways - that when they go back and revisit an earlier album, both good and bad memories can come back. I understand making the record was also a period of stress for you.
Mmm-hmmm. Some of it wasn't a happy time for me or, I'm sure, for Karl. It was exciting because we knew we were doing something special, but we took five months to make it, and during those five months we went from being pretty good friends to two people who didn't speak anymore. That's no fun. Also, just being 23, various bad behavior, various doubts... if I could've told myself back then that 27 years later I'd still be making music and having fun, I think I would have relaxed a little bit. But you put this incredible pressure on yourself to come up with the goods when you're first starting out.
Whereas now, I think I'm making the best music of my life, and I'm trying a lot less. That doesn't mean it's not important or that I don't make sure everything is the way it's supposed to be; it's just more natural because I've been doing it for a long time. I'm sure you've experienced that in writing.
Yeah, that's true. I feel like I can do things easier, with a lot less effort, and still come up with something better - and have more fun doing it in the process. That's probably true with any discipline.
Of course, the flipside is that all the frustrations and neuroses that go into making the record come out in the record, and you can hear it - in a good way. Because making a record is a very intense emotional experience.
That's fueled so many great records, like the ones you namecheck in the Medicine Show liner notes - Big Star Third, Tonight's The Night, etcetera. In the review I wrote of your album, I pointed out how it confuses me sometimes, that I'm not sure what I'm responding to and it's like watching a French movie. Some of the sounds are a little weird, very ‘80s sounding, yet very seductive too. So why is this album, for me, instead of Days Of Wine and Roses, the Dream Syndicate record I respond to the most? It's very hard to explain. The album a key artifact of the Amerindie underground of that era, yet it sounds unlike other records from that time period.
That's a great description. I think there's a little mystery to it. Of all the records I've made, that one's the hardest to pin down; it's its own beast. I can't think of any of the other records that sound quite like that. The closest thing that it reminds me of might be some of Nick Cave's records that came afterwards, which were damaged, and wrong, and often uncomfortable, but make a strong impression. And I think...mmm, I think Medicine Show has its own mystery and a lot of things. Your comment about a French movie is a really good one, because if you go to see any basic Adam Sandler movie, you know the story and you can walk away and say I know what that was about and what the subtext was, and I got from A to B and I either enjoyed it or I didn't. But there are certain more oddball films where you walk away and go, I don't even know what that was about, it was stilted and unknowing at times - but I can't stop thinking about it. And those are the things I've always liked.
That would make Daughtry the Adam Sandler of rock ‘n' roll... Okay, so you started writing Medicine Show not long after the first album, and then Kendra Smith [original bassist] left the band. Take us back to that point, when she announces she was splitting and you say to yourself, "Uh-oh..."
I was really sad about that because Kendra had been a good friend for a real long time. We were in bands when we were 18 back in Davis, California. And I knew how important she was to the band and the sound of the band. But being that age, I didn't know how to deal with it, so I just said, "Okay, good luck." We knew we were going on to something else anyway, and she sensed that, and I think that may have been her hesitation about going on. We'd gone from being a goth-y psychedelic band to more of a guitar band and a band that would tour a lot.
And when she left, I think it was February of '83, we were only one year past our first gig. A lot had happened in that time, a lot of very heady stuff. There was a period of time when I knew if I walked past the newsstand, any music magazine that I picked up would have us in it. I just assumed that, and it was exciting, but also when you're that young and starting out, it can do weird things to you, and do different things to different people. I think for her it was a combination of maybe seeing us heading in a direction she didn't like, and also because she was dating David Roback at the time I think they wanted to do things together [as Opal]. The whole touring thing wasn't as much fun for her as it was for us. So when she left I knew we were going to be a different band.
You got David Provost in to replace her - he'd been playing with the Textones, right?
I was a fan of theirs and used to go see them, and I would see him around a lot too. He's great - you know, he played with Al Green! Just a fantastic bassist. I just saw him recently, in Portland.
Did you already have the A&M deal cooking when he joined?
No, not then. The reason we had to get him in the band fast was because of the U2 tour. We needed someone who could learn the songs and jump in the van and go. The same thing happened a year later when he left and Mark Walton came in - we had to do a tour.
We were being offered deals by Geffen, EMI and A&M. It was great! I got a lot of nice meals out of that, a lot of ego stroking! Meetings with the presidents of labels, very exciting, very heady, and a lot of fun. I think A&M won out because they seemed more of an artists' label. The whole vibe of them, and the fact that they were run by a musician, Herb Alpert, and that we'd be able to do what we wanted to. And we did! EMI, for example, we met with Gary Gersh, their A&R guy, and I remember him saying, "Well, you know, when you come with us, you're not going to have just a label. We're going to collaborate. We're going to get involved with the songwriting and the way you make the records." He was telling me this as a selling point! [laughs] "Check please!" I wanted no part of that. Geffen was great, though, so that was a hard decision. But even Geffen was more of a "corporation" compared to A&M being artist friendly.
And it was the right decision. Because A&M, in the five months of making the record, they never bothered us while we were doing it. They just signed the checks and said, "Keep going." Which to this day amazes me.
Can you tell me how much they spent on the album, or is that privileged information?
I can tell you that it was something around a quarter of a million dollars.... yeah.
How many Steve Wynn records can we make with a quarter of a million dollars?
Everything I've ever done! I can tell you, and I'm pretty sure I can verify this, the time and money it took to make Medicine Show, I could fit everything else I've ever done. [laughs] Maybe not the time, but... to me it was a lesson, because I've always said about Medicine Show that we could've made the same record in a month. But at the same time, we didn't know what we were doing. We were looking for something and not knowing what it was until we found it, and that was sort of the way Sandy Pearlman [Medicine Show producer] was too. And he's always been that way: if you talk to people in Blue Oyster Cult, the Clash, the Dictators, you'll get the same thing from them about Sandy. He takes a long time, and you kind of go on the journey with him.
Everything that happened was for a good end because we got that record. But some producers might have come in and said, okay, do this, this, this, and we're done. He said, "Keep doing it, and I'll know it when I see it." And we said the same thing.
Did you seek out Pearlman, or was he suggested by the label?
He knew our manager at the time, Tim Devine. We were on tour with U2 and played a show at the Capitol Theatre in Passaic, and our tour manager was quit or fired and we suddenly found ourselves without a tour manager or soundman for a very big show. Our manager suggested Sandy to do live sound. Most studio producers will not do that. But he did, we met him, and we liked him. It's funny too - Karl was sold on him because of Blue Oyster Cult, and I was sold on him because of the Dictators. We both had our Sandy favorites, so he was a good choice.
He definitely pulled something out of us that we didn't know was there. He pushed us to an extreme. He really, in every way, wanted something beyond just the normal rock band experience. It's funny: his favorite movie, and one he had the poster for up on his wall, was Apocalypse Now. And it was the same thing. That documentary about the film, Heart of Darkness, all the psychological adventures that Coppola and Martin Sheen and everyone went through making that movie - I'm not saying it's totally analogous, but that's what we were doing as well.
If cameras had been rolling in the studio with you guys, what might they have caught on film?
They would have caught me throwing a whiskey bottle at Sandy for making me sing the same song 20 times in a row! And him saying to me, "You can't throw a whiskey bottle at me! Mick Jones didn't even throw a whiskey bottle at me!" [laughs]
To be continued. In Part 2, Steve Wynn delves further into the creation of Medicine Show, and then discusses the aftermath.
Steve Wynn on the web: www.stevewynn.net
[Photo Credit: Howard Rosenberg]
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