The Bad Penny (beta)

[With Jesus Lizard vocalist David Yow having moved to Portugal, now seems as good a time as any to roll out the most incisive and insightful interview among the handful I did with him. Previously out of print and conducted roughly 21 years ago, here’s a toast to the only rock star who always does have a can of beer in his hand.]

As many of you have probably gathered and/or heard, a lot of the talk following this weekend’s Pitchfork fest has regarded the almost-night-capping Friday performance by the Jesus Lizard. If it hadn’t been for Built to Spill’s closing billing that evening, you would’ve expected the Liz to have left crowdmembers stumbling home with loose teeth shaking in their mouths and broken toes slapping around in their shoes.

The informed among us are well aware that those lovable ’90s crank-rock cretins called the Lizard have propagated a lethal dose of gratuitous grime, grit and glib glee over the masses since they recently re-collected themselves for redux performances. From the band’s confidants, we’ve heard reports that theirs was a solid show, one that should place David Yow and the gang on a secure path laid toward redemptive riches as the Liz re-arouses its fanbase for a series of widely unexpected reunion gigs throughout this year (and beyond? And a new album while we’re at it? Are we pressing buttons or just our luck?).

As it were, we have difficulty believing the concert could’ve topped Scratch Acid’s historic (and much more unlikely) reassembly for 2006’s Touch and Go block party. Yow apparently didn’t do his infamous butt-naked tight-‘n’-shiny dance (which he didn’t do three years ago) or stroll into the crowd that much (as he did a bit in ’06). Even if he is used to sweating it out with the (non-Duane) Deni-zens among us, it doesn’t sound like we missed more than we previously thought we might’ve been in for.

Time out: If some of you are shaking your heads, all discombobulating and stuff, it’s OK: You have indeed stumbled onto the right post. [Because if you’re unfamiliar with this gang of four, you’re about to get some seriously cringe-worthy – dare we say “Blockbuster”? – entertainment. After all, that was what the Lizard were in a nutshell: An act of performance art, with some punk- and classic-rock thrills (and a few frills) thrown in for good measure. If you’re into Harvey Milk, Pissed Jeans and the like, you have found the original source of your amusement.]

“So who is this Yow fellow?” some of you may be asking yourselves. As longtime fans of everything this messianic miscreant has been up to since his time with the Lizard and years past and post, we’d be apt to describe him as one of the top five must-see musicians of the ’90s underground. But we know Jim DeRogatis is the ultimate authority on Chicago music and all, so even though we went “on tour” with the Liz in their prime, we’ll lean upon some of his words for extra support:

“During the alternative-rock ’90s, singer David Yow earned a place on a short list with Iggy Pop and the late Lux Interior of the Cramps as a force of nature who courted chaos whenever he picked up a microphone.”

Yeah, that rings true enough to us. We’ve also been trying to unearth the Rolling Stone interview in which a baffled Yow, assigned to interview Pop, sheepishly admits that he doesn’t know why they were told to “converse” with each other. It’s an amusing, carefree, aimless chat about nothing in particular – disarming for all parties involved, and somewhat revealing along the way.

But in the interim, we give you an even deeper glimpse within, via this discussion held with señor Yow in 2006 – in anticipation of the Touch and Go block party that would eventually and essentially function as a closing chapter on the label.

If you have seen David Yow, you likely have seen him spit. You’ve probably seen him shirtless, quite possibly naked. You’ve maybe seen him stroke the microphone as if it were an invisible schlong. And if you’re extra vigilant, you’ve probably caught some of his onstage wisecracks.

But as big fans of the Lizard, we can say – at least as true as a Liar – that we have one of the more authoritative, end-to-end-all interviews with Mr. Yow – about seven years after the band said parting was such sweet sorrow.

Crying, laughing, shooting the shit – just as he throws forward his entire self during Lizard shows, so he laid his very being on the altar during this interview.

“I got, I got, really – I mean, even for me – I got really, really drunk on New Year’s Eve,” he confessed at one point. “And I fell over and busted my nose open, and [a friend] was helping me bandage it up and clean it up and stuff, and he said he turned around for a second, and then he turned back around, and I’d fallen again directly on my nose, right on the same spot. And just a week or two ago I went to an ear-nose-and-throat doctor. And I thought I’d broken it, but I wasn’t sure. And the second she looked at my nostrils, she said, ‘Well, you broke your nose.’ And I said, ‘Yeah, I did it on New Year’s.’ And she said, ‘You broke it good.’ “

Unadulterated to the wild ride that is the life of David Yow, who will be turning 50 next year (feeling old, indie fogies? Then get ready to die), he said the following:

“Oh, but here’s another good story about that. I was staying at a hotel in Joshua Tree. And I was woken by room service, maid service. And I answered the door naked, and I asked her to please come back later. And she gasped, like, took a step back. And I thought, ‘You know, certainly she’s seen a naked fellow before.’ And then I kind of glimpsed myself in the mirror, and there was blood all over my face. My entire face was completely covered in blood. And I thought it was so cool, I thought I had a hard-on.”

If you have been waiting your life to get a true sense of the man behind the Yow, you probably just got it right now: a queasing combination of twisted sexuality, excrement, and rock and roll. Really, when it boils down to it, is there any better way to describe this impish indie icon?

To answer our own question: No, there’s not.

Years later, even after we’d shaken the aftershocks of the Lizard out of our brain – well before the reunion – we still can’t recover from this guy.

Which is why we’re going to bring you even more from him in a couple of days. Next time it’ll be about the solo album that was even too insane for Ipecac to release. More on that in a bit. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, chew on this:

Have you thought about writing a book?

“I have thought about it. I have gone much further than that. I’ve been thinking about writing a screenplay too. This friend of mine I know from Chicago who’s an actress, a girl named Paula Killin, teaches this class that was geared toward actors. And the idea was it was an eight-class, and what you got to do is write a monologue. And then at the end of the class – we were 10 students – we’d all do our monologues in front of an audience. This was done at the Comedy Union on Pico? So, you know, a lot of the students – I’d say at least eight of ’em – did funny monologues. But I wanted to do just a heartbreaking, horribly, terribly sad, tear-jerking monologue. And it was based on a true story about a guy who was married. He was a newlywed. He was really in love, and he got saranchital cancer. They caught it early, and they had the operation, and it was cool, it was gone, everything’s great. And then a couple days later – I don’t know if his wife was tickling him or told him a joke or what – but she made him laugh so hard that his stitches burst and hemorrhaged and bled to death.”

Oh my God.

“And it was such an intense story that I based my monologue around that. And I’ve been thinking about writing a screenplay about it.”

What was the crowd reaction when you told that story?

“Oh, it was great. It was exactly what I was hoping for. There were a couple of people crying, and when I finished and walked offstage, I’d say it was 10 or 15 seconds before anybody started talking. And they’re sitting there going, ‘What?’ And I did the class again a few months later, and I told the story about how, after my father died … oh, God, I’m going to cry … my mother’s demise into Alzheimer’s. That one, fuck, I was crying telling that story. And there were people sitting in the audience crying. It was great. It was exactly what I was hoping for.”

But it wasn’t a cathartic thing for you, it was more of a performance piece?

“Well, I took the class because I want to do some acting, and I thought it would help me get over some of the fears I have with it. So that was the reason for taking the class. Telling the sad stories … I dunno, I just … funny just seems so fucking insignificant, and I didn’t want to just stand there for 10 or 12 minutes and try to be funny. It had been smack-dab a year since my mom died, and I was so blown away by how Alzheimer’s took her and had its way with her. So completely evil. I just wanted to tell people about it.”

That’s really powerful.

“Thanks. I thought it was.”

I still can’t grasp why the frontman for Scratch Acid and the Jesus Lizard for so many years would need to take acting classes.

“Well, there’s a huge difference between playing in a band and acting. ‘Cause I’ve done a little bit of acting. And the stuff I did with the Jesus Lizard and Scratch Acid, I could do whatever the fuck I wanted at any point. If I wanted to not sing, I could not sing. If I wanted to change the words, I could change the words. If I wanted to go over there and jump around, I could do that. But with acting, you have specific lines that you have to say in a specific way, and you have to stand over there with your foot sticking up on that and look over there. There’s a lot more guidelines. There’s surprisingly little similarity between the two. But I think I can do it, and I want to keep it up, and I want to do some more. It’s fun. It’s a really cool challenge. Like, I will have an understanding of how it should look and feel and sound, and the way it should come across. Being able to sort of slip into that place is difficult, and it’s a fun challenge. The more I do, the sort of easier it gets to sort of enter that place. Does that make sense?”

It does. Have you thought about hooking up with Hal Hartley? Didn’t you guys contribute to one of his movies years ago?

“Yeah, we did. And you know, I sent him a couple of letters, and I don’t know if he ever got them. And a friend of mine who was in Cop Shoot Cop is a good friend of Hal’s, and I’ve asked him to hook me up with Hal since nothing’s happened. Hey, the other night I met Rebecca del Rio. Do you know who that is?”

No, I don’t.

“Are you a fan of ‘Mulholland Drive’ by David Lynch?”

I saw it three times in the theater, if that’s any indication.

“Yeah, I love that fucking movie. Well, Rebecca’s the woman who sang ‘Llorando,’ ‘Crying,’ by Roy Orbison, a cappella in Spanish. I met her a couple of nights ago, and she said, ‘Well, you should come with me. I’m going to a burlesque show.’ And I was going [He laughs], ‘God, thanks, I’d love to, but I’ve got to go meet a friend.’ So I went and met my friend and I told him Rebecca had asked me to come along but that I had to meet him, and he goes, ‘Fucking idiot.’ But I’ve got her number, and I’m going to call her, and use her to get to David Lynch. I’ve got a ton of respect for his work.”

Did she knew who you were?

“I didn’t really tell her. We have a mutual friend – we had gone to see Abby Travis play. But I met her before the show, and then after the show she asked me what I thought of the show. And we started actually having a conversation. And I don’t know why – she had already told me her name was Rebecca – but then she said she’s Rebecca del Rio. And I went, ‘Hoooly shit.’ I said, ‘I don’t really get star-struck, but my scalp is tingling.’ I said, ‘Give me another hug.’ I was really, really excited. I saw her play in Tangiers last year, and I didn’t bother her or anything like that. And I wouldn’t have recognized her that night either – she didn’t look like she did when I saw her. But she looked really beautiful, and I got all tingly talking to you.”

Do those roles ever get reversed? Do you get “spotted” a lot in L.A.?

“It’s funny, I do! It’s funny. I think it happens more here than it did in Chicago. I get a huge kick out of it. Matter of fact, a couple of weeks ago, I was at this bar on Bronson and Sunset – I went there because outside it looks like a Chicago-style dive, but on the inside it’s all nice and the barmaids are always super-hot bitches with black pants and wife-beaters on. The music is this loud dance music and all the people in there are really beautiful, young, dancing and shit. I said to my friend, ‘This is entertaining, but this is not my scene.’ And I went to get a drink and this guy bought me a drink and said, ‘Man, I love your music.’ And I said, ‘Wow, I didn’t expect anybody in here to know who the fuck I was.”

It must be happy to find a bar in Los Angeles where David Yow feels comfortable, at least on the Westside.

“No, it’s not difficult at all. It’s great. As a matter of fact, there are several bartenders I’ve met who like the crap I’ve done, and they just won’t let me pay for anything. I love that shit.”

Have you been talking with Steve Albini and other Chicago people, or are you pretty immersed in L.A.?

“Well, I’m immersed in L.A., but I talked to Steve a few times in the last couple weeks. My other two best buddies are in Chicago, and I talk to them on a regular basis. [He belches.]”

How about David Sims?

“I don’t talk to David very often. We e-mail more than we talk. And I haven’t talked to Duane in a while either. Duane and I used to talk at least once a month or so, but that tapered off, I don’t really know why.”

Did you get hooked up with Ipecac through Duane’s Tomahawk connection?

“Yeah. Tomahawk was playing in Chicago, and Duane introduced me to Mike Patton. He grabbed me by the shoulders and said, ‘You’re going to make an album, and I’m putting it out whether you like it or not.’ I went, ‘OK.’ And I had just – this guy Alex Hacker, who plays with Einsternze Neubauten, had just shown me Pro Tools about two weeks before that. So I said, ‘OK, I can make a record.’ Started doing it.”

And how many years ago?

“Four. Well, March made four. So four and a few months. Four years in the making, pal.”

Can’t wait to hear it. Are you making any guest spots on other albums?

“Some friends of mine have a little band called Model Actress. I did a song with them. Are you familiar with Tom Hazlemeyer?”

No.

“He ran Amphetamine Reptile Records …”

Oh, sure.

“… and he had a band called Halo of Flies. He came out here briefly, and some friend of his is doing these tiny little animations – a whole bunch of one-and-a-half or two-and-a-half-minute animations. He’s doing music for it, and he brought some of the music out here and asked me and the Melvins to record vocal stuff for it. So I went over to the Melvins’ practice space [laughing] and we recorded these vocals for the thing. And it was really fun, ’cause it was, ‘Do whatever the fuck you want. Don’t worry about it. No second takes. Just one take and that’s it.’ And it was fun and really goofy. Like, on one of the songs – we looked at the parts and stuff, and I said, ‘OK, I want to do that one,’ ’cause it’s really goofy, and had this goofy organ and piano. And all I did on it was, for like two minutes, go, ‘Whaa-whaa-whaa.’ Stuff like that. And it was really good.”

[I laugh.] Were you credited on it?

“I have no idea. I’m not sure what he’s going to do with that. I don’t know if it’ll just be animation, or if he’s releasing it or what. Dale from the Melvins didn’t want it … he was, like [in a growly voice], ‘I’m all hacked up, mad as I am. I’m all hacked up, like a lez-a-bian.’ I don’t know what a ‘lez-a-bian’ is.”

Speaking of the Melvins, didn’t you actually play a cover of the Lizard’s “7 vs. 8” with them?

“No, they covered ‘Blockbuster.’ On ‘Cry-Baby.’ They covered ‘Blockbuster’ and I sang it, and then we did another song that they wrote called ‘Dry Drunk.’ That was several years ago.”

Was that the only public performance you’ve made, music-wise, since then?

“That wasn’t public, but then I played with them a couple of times when they played in Chicago. And then at the Slint-curated All Tomorrows Parties in England, the Melvins played in London and then All Tomorrows Parties, and I did a couple of songs. And recently – well, a year or so ago – these guys from Chicago were playing at the Knitting Factory. And, all of a sudden, they said, ‘All right, now David Yow’s going to come up and join us for ’25 or 64.’ And I went [he laughs], ‘Uh-oh. OK.’ And we did that song.”

You said before you’ve pretty much disconnected yourself from music. Are there any bands you’re following these days?

“No.”

That’s always a great question.

“Yeah, I don’t know what the most modern thing I like is. I like Qui, the local band Qui. Do you like them?”

I don’t know them.

“I think I’m going to do a song with them too. The guitar player asked me just recently if I would do ‘Willie the Pimp’ from Frank Zappa’s Hot Grass record. ‘Sure, I’ll do that.’ “

Have you been a Zappa fan you’re whole life?

“Pretty much, yeah. I think Zappa was my third rock concert.”

[Hey, we just wrote a commentary about that guy. Even though he had a ponytail.]

What was the first one?

“Good question [sarcastic]! Eh, you know, a little English group you may have heard of called Led Zeppelin. May 21, 1977. As a matter of fact, next year, on May 21, I want to have a Led Zeppelin party where all I’m going to play is Led Zeppelin, and if you come to the party, you have to look like somebody in the band, or look like Peter Grant, or like you’re going to see them, or somehow be a representative of Led Zeppelin.”

 

 

 

Related goodies:

[Go here for more goodies from bassist/stoic supervisor/all-around-great-guy David Wm. Sims.]

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