TODD RUNDGREN FROM THE CRADLE OF CIVILIZATION

February 24— Had I remembered that it was doomsday, I'm sure I would have died of fright. As it was, traveling through blinding rain at 100 mph only had me petrified. Every time the driver swerved from the road to its shoulder I closed myeyes. They say prayer doesn't work. I know it does. Either that, or for some unknown reason God wanted me here on earth a day longer than seemed possible at the time. You see, the driver of this car had a pilot's license and since we couldn't get a flight out of the city he decided he'd fly the car.

So there I was, supersonic hydroplaning on my way to catch a glimpse of Todd Rundgren's --newest project, a revised version of Utopia. The band's latest record, Ra, gave me reason to believe that this was Todd's first real group involvement since the days of Nazz.

By the time we made it to the airport where they were rehearsing, Utopia was about to leave, but for our sake, they agreed to hang around for an hour, play a few tunes, and do a group therapy type of interview.

Inside the airplane hanger stood a huge gold and turquoise sphinx set on a platform surrounded by four beams that formed a pyramid shape. It was the stage set for Utopia's RQ, tour. The ride on the heels of death seemed worth it— almost.

Making their way to the stage, Utopia played "The Death of Rock and Roll" and "Communion With the Sun." It sounded tight. I wanted more. From behind the airplane wing where I'd propped myself I boldly called out, "Jealousy." To my surprise, the band granted my request.

l don't really think that 50 years from now rock will exist.

Todd's cordless, custom-made guitar, made of aluminum, was shaped like Ankh—the Egyptian symbol of life. The little box hanging from his guitar strap contained the radio antennae that picked up the signal to amplify his guitar.

After the song, Todd's words catch my attention. He's explaining that he's not obligated to put out singles and thgt as far as he's concerned he's successful at the thing he set out to do. The group discussion turns to the opinion that music in the '70s isn't as good as it was in the '60s, and Todd responds, "Audiences' bio-rhythms change, the music doesn't get bad.

"Music itself has no direction. It's not the style of music that gives it direction, it's the lifestyle. The Beatles were the group that made people be more aware of lifestyles and start to live it. That was the first phase. Now, even though people live at home, they feel transient, like they're on the road. In the second phase—psychedelic—people got into the.abstract visionary..."

A discussion of the lyrical consciousness of Utopia leads Todd to comment on a certain segment of the audience: "They expect us to change the world. There are only four of us and there are thousands of them. It's silly of them to expect us to do something they won't do."

Todd explains that the next Utopia album will have a concept with the music being less conceptual than the lyrics. "It will be of great sociological and political importance, poignant to the conditions right now," he professes. Though he now considers himself a classicist, he admits he went through a romantic phas^. "Usually I have a pretty unglamorized view of things, but our next album will be more romantic than classic."

The gathering begins to break up. We wander out to the car. It's dark now and raining more profusely than before. I offer to drive and after a few minutes realize that conditions are pretty hazardous. Once again I set my life in the hands of the car pilot. By the time I get home I've aged two years. At least I'm alive.

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March 5

We are on our way to see Utopia in concert. We are being driven in limousines. We are spared the maneuvers of the car pilot. We arrive safely.

Dry ice smoke seeps into the audience and blinding lights greet us for the first chords of "Communion With the Sun" followed by "Sunset Boulevard" and "International Feel."

Throughout the set Todd is especially expressive. He acts out "Eastern Intrigue" and smiles the whole way through "Love of the Common Man." "Eternal Love" features Kasim Sulton on vocals, Todd on sax and Roger Powell on trumpet, adding a swing instrumental break. "Something's Coming," "The Death of Rock and Roll," "Heavy Metal Kids," "Hiroshima" and the closing epic, "Singring and the Glass Guitar," which features solos by each band member, surrounding the drummer's platform, the smashing of an ice guitar. Todd plays gymnast, ascending the stairs of one of the pyramid beams, taking a solo and returing to the stage by grabbing onto a rope between his legs, doing a flip and being slowly lowered to the ground.

Backstage, sitting next to his pregnant lady Bebe, Todd accepted compliments on the show while eating eggplant parmigiana, and played with the couple's two puppies, Furburger and Puppet.

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March 9

I arrive at the home of the car pilot. He does Todd's publicity. I don't see Todd. I'm told he's in another room typing his autobiography (hmmm), After an involved conversation, Roger Powell, John Wilcox (drummer) and I conclude that all music these days is derivative. It's just a question of how well a band can take the existing elements and synthesize them into something original.

Todd enters. What follows is an excessively accurate account of the excessive amount of words spent debating the question of Todd's excessiveness.

CREEM: Sometimes I think you experiment too much.

TODD: Ah! Excessive experimentation! When you're experimenting you never know what is too much if you're an experimenter—you've got to experiment. A lot of people just make music 'cause it's their living or they play it safe. It's more vital for me. I can't do it just for a living because it would be much easier for me to make a living doing other thinqs. I can get a ridiculous amount of money for producing or engineering and I don't have to take a personal beating over what I've done unless I do a bad production.

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 45.

CREEM: Well, the lavish production of "A Dream Goes Orv Forever" certainly hindered that song from becoming a hit.

TODD: I never make 'em for the radio. A lot of people are still radio conscious. There's a whole scene that goes with that.

CREEM: It's almost as if you purposely decommercialize.

TODD: I purposely do it all. Whatever way it comes out, I've done it on purpose.

CREEM: It's as if you're saying "actept me as I am. If this isn't commercial, tough shit. It's what I'm doing."

TODD: Well, I'do have a lot of that attitude. I have .the attitude that the commercial aspect of the record comes afterward. There's no way you could guarantee that a record was going to be commercial unless you went out and bought every copy of the record yourself. If a record doesn't sell commercially, it's a failure. That's the only measure for commercial success. You can say a song has a commercial sound, but when you say "commercial" it means do people buy it. If they don't buy it, it's not commercial, but the music is there anyway. It has to be good whether it sells or not unless it's a total failure. That's the thing that worries me. If I put out an album that's intended to be commercial, what if it doesn't sell?

CREEM: Did you ever do that?

TODD: Never.

CREEM: So then you don't have to worry about people saying you tried and failed. It's like people saying "do another Something, Anything. It seems like what you've done since then has been in defiance of that.

TODD: Well, in a way it is. I don't want to be put in that box of having to record that kind of material. And I don't want to take a chance of failing artistically after over-attempting to be commercial. I know l ean do something that's articulately valid. I don't know that I can do something that will/self. There are things out there that sell, that to me, seem like total dreck. So I figure that if I were to go out there and compete with the dreck, I would be as good at turning out dreck but I wouldn't be any good at insuring that the dreck would sell.

Thus ended the excessive debates. Who won? It all depends on how you like Initiation.

Todd exits. I'm exasperated. Such an excessive amount of time was spent talking about excessiveness that I didn't get to half my questions. "He'll be back," the car pilot assures me.

Drummer John Wilcox and I chat about our various interests outside music. John explains that he used to be into meditation until he started having nightmares where he would be engulf: ed in the overwhelming presence of Om. Meanwhile, the car pilot is trying to figure out how to get all of Utopia together at nine o'clock the following morning in order to have them photographed with assorted Egyptian artifacts at the museum.

Todd returns. Talk resumes.

I'm curious about the lyrics of "The Death of Rock and Roll": "The critics got together and they started a game/ You get your records for nothin' and you call each other names."

Todd replies, "That's a more or less humorous view of the truth. Some people have a corrupting power that they don't deserve to have. Most people who write about rock music don't know anything about the music, they just know the scene. It's not like other forms of music that require you to know something about the music itself. Rock is designed to appeal to individual tastes,'' he rambles. "It's a real transient music. I don't really think that 50 years from now rock will exist."

Back to the subject, he continues: "Rock criticism to me is really the most narcissistic, masturbatory art, as exemplified by 'Christgau Consumer Guide.' I don't really think rock criticism makes any difference at all. It's solely for the purpose of satisfying the people who do it. The literary side of the pop music scene is corrupt because they don't have to answer to anyone. No one reviews the reviewer."

Changing the subject, we discuss the Egyptian theme of Ra. "We chose that theme as an avenue of artistic expression," Todd explained. "The largest common denominator is sex, so most people write songs about sex. Then there's love songs. I consider true love songs to be sexless." He pauses and looks up and asks, "How did we get to this?" He resumes. "We chose a theme that could encompass all things, the visual performance, the societal images of Utopia. It's something with which we have a legitimate connection. I suppose you could represent Rome. That not only conjures up i images of highly developed philosophy, it represents *the other side—decadence—and there are bands that represent that. Most people think of Egypt in biblical terms. We are trying to represent the timeless aspect of any highly developed society. To me Egypt was the most highly developed post-Atlantian civilization unless it can be proven that Atlantis existed. Egypt is the cradle of civilization as we know it now."

On the subject of the old and the new, Todd explains, "I get selfconscious doing my old material. I mean, I hate it when Sinatra does 'My Way' so I hate doing 'Hello It's Me.' It feels good to have a new crew and a new stage act. A clean challenge is always enjoyable."

Lest you take too much stake in all that is said here, be reminded that what you get from Utopia is what's important. Stories like these are extraneous and sometimes even excessive. Take it from the man himself: When asked if he liked doing interviews, Todd replied, "I don't care. Talk is cheap."