STEVE WINWOOD KEEPS ON RUNNING

STEVE WINWOOD KEEPS ON RUNNING

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The Diver Comes Up For Air

Jim Farber

On the final Traffic tour back in the Fall of 1974, something happened on stage at New York’s Academy of Music that, for me, encapsulated everything I’ve always felt about Steve Winwood. The show had been going poorly. Many of the songs were slowed down and Chris Wood was obviously having trouble figuring out what planet he was on. The crowd had been hostile to the new material from When. The Eagle Flies. Sometime into the evening, Winwood, alone at the piano, announced: “This is another new song,” and a sizeable portion of the audience began to boo. Right then, WinwOod shot the crowd a look that seemed to pierce the darkness. A look that said, “How can you do this to me?...this is ME you’re doing this to.” It was a look so honest that it seemed almost too vulnerable. It was threateningly connected. And yet, on another level, all it did was restate his isolation from the crowd. Ironically, this unfortunate moment summed up a contradiction I’ve always loved in Winwood’s voice and persona. His vocals are so warm, soulful and outreaching—as immediate as his look to the crowd. And yet there is also a frightening mystery to his singing that keeps him remote, tentative and self-absorbed. He can seem morose and hopeful at the same time. I believe this is the contradiction that has made Steve Winwood a great singer. Winwood’s emotional look to the audience that night was fleeting. He immediately went oh to do a brilliant, moving version of “When The Eagle Flies.” And when he finished, no one booed.

The image of Steve Winwood as the moody singer-in-the-isolation-tank (just one half of his contradiction) has become somewhat exaggerated these last six years since he broke up Traffic after that final, troubled tour. Other than some brief, unimpressive projects in the mid-70’s, Winwood has released just two solo records— the first in ’77 and now Arc Of A Diver. He’s been living on his small farm in Gloucester, seyeral hours out of London. He goes to sleep at 8:30 at night and gets up before 7:00 in the morning. Just after this first solo record was released he promise^ he’d get back into the rock ’n’ roll swing of things and start to tour again. The album had some beautiful numbers. It was definitely worth promoting. But instead we got another vanishing cat, “I went through stages where I thought I didn’t want to have anything to do with the music business,” Winwood says,. looking very healthy as he sits in Island Records’ N.Y. office. “Butthe basic truth was I didn’t know how to do anything else...I’d been on the road for 12 years. I felt I’d had enough. I was losing interest. Also there were lots of changes in the music business;' particularly in Britain around the time of my first solo record. They have these bands over there that are the favorite flavor of the month. That can be depressing...In 1977 there was the punk-thing. It was satire. That’s the way I now think I should have viewed it. Rock ’n’ roll was in need of it. It was taking itself too seriously. At the time I thought if I ignored it, (punk) might go away ... I felt like a relic of the 60’s. If you listen too much to what’s said about you, you start to believe that stuff. Of course I am a relic of those days. But I feel now I know more than I did then about recording. And I now have some better things to say. ”

One of Winwood’s chief preoccupations over the last three years since his first solo LP has been to supervise the building of a recording studio in his home. He also spent time settling into marriage with his wife, Nicole. He did some odd session work to pay the bills. When Jim Capaldi moved to Brazil, he spent time seeking out new lyricists to work with. He tinkered around the farm a bit. Sometimes he got bored, but everything served a purpose. “Even though I wasn’t producing music,-1 was working to organize my life, which is as hard work as producing albums. When you’re on the road for 12 years you don’t have a home. Now I’ve organized that. I wasn’t just doing nothing for . the sake of doing nothing. ” .

The last year artd a half he’s been working on the album. The material was all written by March 1980. Then Winwood worked six days a week, eight hours a day until September to get it finished. He played all the instruments himself. “I now think doing everything myself was a bit stupid,” he says. “I’ve done it to, different degrees before, but usually still using other drummers. I’ve never has the time to do it all the way before. I thought it would be easy, cheap and quick. But it was difficult, expensive and slow.”

The length of time the project took is particularly upsetting to Winwood. “The more you wait, the more you worry about what you do. I’m reasonably happy with the album. I’m glad I did it but I wish I’d done another four albums since the last one. I plan to get another one out by this Autumn and to do some touring by then. (He’ll get a band together this Spring). I miss playing live terribly.”

"Vm glad Vm a veteran and still looked on as a veteran. And yet Vm still young. I feel I have a lot more to do."

Still, touring is what broke up Traffic for the final time. At the end of their ’74 tour Winwood became physically ill. Other members of the band had trouble with drugs. Steve claims he was clean. “I’ve done bad gigs in the past because of tiredness. I hope to eliminate that this time around. I will not tour as extensively now. ”

I tell Winwood the story of his last New York show, over six years ago, mentioning the look he gave the audience. He doesn’t remember the exact incident. “The shows (on that tour) were a bit slow at times. It was an invitation for certain factions of the audience to make their feelings known. That happened a lot.”

On Chris Wood’s way-out-of-it condition, he says: “It was happening up there for the whole world to see. It was very embarrassing for me. But Traffic was always a living group. And that was just one of the problems of living.”

Winwood appears pleased when I tell him how moved I was by his live version of “When The Eagle Flies,” especially in such a difficult setting. The album itself is one of Traffic’s best—moody, dark, appropriately self-involved. “We felt it was necessary for us as a group to act like a commentator,” Winwood says of the album. “We thought it was necessary to reflect the bad things going on the the world. Today, I don’t think that’s what rock ’n’ roll should be about. Obviously there are sad songs. But that album was somewhat misguided. We should have done music that made the times less dull, rather than sitting around saying, ‘times are really fucking bad.’ I still like the album. It’s as close as we were ever going to get to the original Traffic. For me, the first album and John Barleycorn most sum up what Traffic was.”

Several years back Jim Capaldi said: “Traffic was always coming and never arriving.”

Each phase of Traffic’s career had it’s own problems. “One thing with Traffic; we decided from the start (in 1968) that all our work would be a collaboration,” Winwood explains. “We’d all write together. Now, looking back, it seems the bands that survive are the ones that have just one leader. ”

The first internal problems came when Dave Mason didn’t want to collaborate. When the band played his songs, Mason felt they should act as his backup group. “Looking back on it now, I think Dave might actually have had the best idea for the band,” Winwood admits.

Traffic’s lowest point came with the addition of the Muscle Shoals sessionmen back in ’73. The album from that phase was Traffic’s worst—Shoot Out At The Fantasy Factory. It’s final song was called “Sometimes I Feel So Uninspired.” “Putting the song there was a bit tactless,” Winwood smiles. “There were always mistakes in the band. Traffic was one big band of mistakes. I wouldn’t blame it on the sessionmen. I’d say it was our lack of ability to cope with the situation. We couldn’t cope with that standard of musicianship.”

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I'm 4fed up w 1th the ‘I-am the-art1‘tA"moody} role. I nowwantto put a band together and sznganythinsu

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Traffic had its share of filler albums, including two inferior live records. One wonders if Winwood’s slow pace these last six years was in reaction to that. Not at all, he says. “Now I think it’s best to put it all out— good and bad. It’s better than waiting. One tries to be a perfectionist, but there ate limits.”

Winwood’s new album, while hardly his best, has.some of his most gorgeous melodies. One could easily place “While You See A Chance” or the title track up with “Many A Mile To Freedom,” “Can’t Find My Way Home,” “Stranger To Himself,” or “Paper Sun.” Though not as cerebral as When The Eagle Flies, it retains a bit of Winwood and Traffic’s folky-mythical primitivism. The sort of thing you’d find in .“Hidden Treasure”, or “Rainmaker. ”

Winwood today likes to stress that his moody, mystical image is really only an outsider’s observance. Yet in his music that dark remoteness is as alive as ever. He still makes love seem like a romantic notion rather than a possessed reality. His music encourages yearning and sentimentality. At times I can’t help adding old Traffic sounds to certain songs. Imagine Chris Wood’s flute at the start of “Nighttrain” or his sax in “While You See A Chance.” “I’d like to hear it too,” Winwood smiles. “But I can’t play the bloody flute. That’s another reason why I want to get back and play with other musicians.”

Lyrically, ex-Bonzo Dog Band loony Viv Stanshall did some work on the album. He wrote a piece for the last Traffic record as well. In this album’s title song he includes the line: “my rock ’n’ roll is putting on weight.” “That means that there are a lot of rock ’n’ roll people in their 30’s and 40’s,” Win wood explains. “They’re getting fat but they’re also getting more solid. It’s a go at people who think rock ’n’ roll is a juvenile thing. 1 don’t think it is. ”

Of course Win wood is not so juvenile. But he’s probably younger than you’d think —just 32. When he stopped touring after 12 years on the Spencer Davis/Blind Faith /Traffic merry-go-round, he was only 26. “I’m glad I’m a veteran and still looked on as a veteran. And yet I’m still young. I feel I have a lot more to do.”

People have always expected a lot more from Steve Win wood. It’s that VOICE. It’s always hard for material to be gbod enough to live up to it. Some critics see his solo albums as overly mellow because they’re lush and pretty. But this is wrong. The tension, the contradiction is still there. Then again—wouldn’t it be great if, along with his fine jazzy pop, Win wood did some straightout R&B as well? Another “Gimme Some Lovin’” perhaps? “I’m certain I’ll do R&B,” Win wood promises. “I feel the need. I’m fed up with the ‘I-am-the-artist-’ moody role. I now want to put a band together and sing anything—R&B as well as other people’s songs.. .I’m now into singing and playing much more. I used to think it was a dirty word to be an entertainer.”

“I’m a singer,” he announces proudly. “So I’m bloody well going to sing.”