OL’NICK THE KNIFE’S BACK IN TOWN!

Nick Lowe is one of the nicest and most down-to-earth, guys in rock ’n’ roll. He’s the type of person you might have imagined your favorite pop stars to be like when you were a kid, but a type that appears to be more exception than rule these days. “Talent” is a trait that sometimes gives one the exclusive right to be an egocentric, temperamental jerk if one so desires, but—-make no mistake about it—Nick Lowe has loads of talent. It sounds a bit hokey and pretentious to label him a pop genius, so let’s just say he’s a master pop craftsman (songwriter, producer and performer) and one of the most important architects of the late. 70’s pop-rock revival.

Nick helped set the standard for what many people felt the new wave should have been, and that is drawing and building on the best elements of rock’s great past (with all due apologies to Ms. Burchill) to create a vital, refreshing form of modern pop-rock music. Of course, this device also had its negative effects, as anyone who remembers the glut of mediocre “power pop” groups that thrived during the last two years of the 70’s will surely testify. But blaming Nick Lowe for that would be akin" to blaming Bob Dylan for Sonny Bono or even the Beatles for the Knack. A lot of today’s best music is still being created by groups who synthesize and rebuild some of the best and most basic rock archetypes (bands ranging from Springsteen’s E Street crew and the Ramones to the Blasters and Human Switchboard come immediately to mind). Nick Lowe has been restructuring the archetypes for well over a decade now— adding his own rather detached form of black humor to the mix—and creating some of the best pop songs of our time. Or any time, for that matter. Buddy Holly probably would have adored his “Now And Always,’’ while “Heart” and “Cruel To Be Kind” surely would have been #1 smash hits if they’d been released during the mid-60s, fitting right in with the latest from Lesley Gore, Lou Christie, the Beatles, the Monkees or Tommy James & the Shondells. Somehow, they just don’t seem to make as much sense on today’s playlists between the latest drivel from Foreigner, Journey, Paul Davis or Sheena Easton.

B In addition to his great songwriting abilities, Lowe’s achievements as a per° former and producer have been numerous. There was Brinsley Schwarz, the band that spearheaded the British pub rock scene, producing such fine bands as Dr. Feelgood, Ducks Deluxe and the great Graham Parker and the Rumour, for whom he produced two albums. There was his tenure as house producer at the young Stiff Records, arguably the most important independent label of the early new wave. He produced the first official English “punk” LP for the Damned. He began experimenting with his keen pop sensibilities, and recorded as a solo artist, creating some of the tunes that would eventually turn up on his classic debut LP, Pure Pop For Now People (or Jesus Of Cool in the U.K.).

I think the reputation I have as a producer is because I was one of the first people to come along at the time and sort of say, *Hey, anybody can do this.*

But perhaps he is best known for a union that began when he met a bespectacled teenager named Declan McManus, as legend has it, at the Cavern Club in Liverpool. (“Actually, it was in the Bunch Of Grapes which was the pub just across the road from the Cavern,” explained Nick. “Sadly, it’s been demolished because, God, if those walls could talk!”) When Declan moved to London, Nick would often go to see the young man’s new band, offering encouragement and advice, and he eventually produced the novice rocker’s first records for Stiff. By this time, Declan had changed his name to Elvis Costello, and the rest is what they call “musical history.” (Ironically, a national American rock magazine would mistakenly review Costello’s first single as Nick Lowe recording under a pseudonym.)

And then, of course, there was the late, great Rockpile: a band which definitely proved Keith Richards’ maxim that a band “can’t help but get better,” evolving from what appeared to be a part-time, “for-thefun-of-it” garage band to one of the tightest rock ’n’ roll units in the world. The union between Nick Lowe’s pop melodies and Dave Edmunds’ rockabilly roots was a marriage made in rock ’n’ roll heaven, and, in some ways, almost reminiscent of the earlier common bond between those two lads from Liverpool. Back at a time when I still had a few rock fantasies intact, I used to imagine that seeing Lowe and Edmunds perform together with Rockpile was akin to what it must have been like to see Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent perform together in the 50’s. Rockpile went beyond revivalism, although they synthesized (and modernized?) a variety of root sounds ranging from Sun rockabilly and the Everly Brothers to Chess blues,and, in many respects, they were the quintessential rock ’n’ roll band of the late 70’s.

Rockpile was formed overnight, and we broke up exactly the same way. And I think that*s the best way for it to happen.

Lowe is currently touring America with the Cars to promote his latest LP, Nick The Knife. The album is his most mature solo effort to date, a fine mixture of rockers and romantic ballads that are no longer totally tongue-in-cheek and finally go beyond his almost-parodic approach of the past. It’s an album that unabashedly expounds love and stands out as a pleasant diversion from most current “rock ’n’ roll,” a form of music —from punk (Black Flag) to heavy metal (Ozzy Osbourne)—which often seems to only make sense anymore if your definition of rock begins and ends with Altamont.

Although many fans justifiably lament the demise of Rockpile, Nick’s current live show is his best ever, mainly because his new band gives him a chance to spotlight the pop songs that Rockpile’s rigid format never permitted. And the new band— Noise To Go—is a very hot one indeed, featuring former Rumour guitarist Martin Belmont, drummer Bobby Irwin (formerly of the Sinceros), bassist James Eller (Nick has traded his bass in for a rhythm Telecaster this tour) and keyboardist Paul Carrack, who sang Ace’s “How Long” and, most recently, Squeeze’s biggest American hit, “Tempted.” The show mixes old Rockpile gems like “Pet You And Hold You” and “Heart Of The City” with Lowe pop classics like “Cruel To Be Kind,” “Marie Provost,” and very Motownish versions of “Breaking Glass” and “Nutted By Reality.” Belmont is always a treat to watch onstage with his hardass, rock ’n’ roll Bill Sikes persona, and Paul Carrack even gets a chance to sing “Tempted,” much to the crowd’s delight. They wrap it all up with a breathtaking rendition of “(What’s So Funny ’Bout) Peace, Love & Understanding,” a song that Nick told me earlier was “meant to be tongue-in-cheek,” but tonight he sounds like he means it, maaan. By the time they’re finished, it’s evident that Nick Lowe & Noise To Go should have been headlining this tour. It’s the best rock performance I’ve seen in a long, long time.

Several hours prior to the show, I’m introduced to Nick backstage at Detroit’s Cobo Hall by Jake Riviera—the manager Nick and Elvis Costello share—who, despite some of the horror stories I’ve heard, turns out to be a real nice, almost-fatherly type of guy. (“I’m sorry,” he says when I tell him I’m there to interview Nick, though I still can’t figure out what he was apologizing for.) Nick has a terrible limp in his right leg, a result of slipping and falling on the ice outside Cleveland’s Agora Ballroom two nights before, a fact that makes tonight’s performance all the more impressive. (“It’s put my center of balance all wrong,” he says. “But we really put on a good show last night, so maybe it’s a good thing. I ought to do it more often.”) Despite the great pain he’s evidently experiencing, Nick is still super-friendly and cordial, and we’re led to a conference room. In the background, the Cars are playing “Shake It Up” for their soundcheck, and the modernistic hybrid of Buddy Holly meets Roxy Music once again reaffirms my belief that the best pop music is still being created by those who adhere to Nick Lowe’s philosophy: building on the best and most basic rock elements.

What follows are excerpts from a conversation with the man Rolling Stone’s Ken Tucker once called “the best performing rock critic since Pete Townshend.” As a result, I suppose my portable Panasonic cassette recorder deserves at least some of the credit for this story.

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CREEM: How does it feel to be touring for the first time in many years with a new band?

NICK LOWE: Well, it’s obviously very different from what I was used to with Rockpile. Dave and I both fronted Rockpile, so it was different in that I could occasionally back off and let Dave do his thing. It was a much more democratic sort of thing. I don’t mean to say that it’s hot democratic now—that I lay down all the laws—but by the very nature of the thing, I have to do more work, so therefore I have more say. I really wasn’t relishing the idea of touring again. 1 didn’t think I’d be able to do it. But every band I’ve played with for a long time now has played great, and that has always helped me like mad.

Is this a temporary band or do you think it will be permanent?

Well, it’s actually Carlene (Carter)’s band as well, y’see. My missus’s band. So, yes, I think it will be a semi-permanent thing because nothing’s really permanent. We’ve just finished doing a solo album for Paul Carrack who plays keyboards. He left Squeeze to join Carlene’s group. We just finished doing an album with him. I wasn’t playing on it, but I wrote some of the songs and produced it. So I think in that respect we’ll be together for awhile.

Do you feel less confined now to pursue your pop style than you did as a member of Rockpile?

Oh, definitely. Definitely. It’s much more anything goes with this band. We also have more keyboards now as well. I’ve never really grooved that much on keyboards because 1 think they look a bit crappy, but you don’t get someone like Paul Carrack to come along and play keyboards with you everyday. I can do-almost any sort of style that I want to now, whereas with Rockpile it was more one-dimensional. At the same time, I liked it. I loved doing that sort of thing with Rockpile, and I’m not saying that one is better than the other. But if I have to this thing on my own, so to speak, it’s far better to do it this way than it would be with a band like Rockpile.

Do you think you’ll ever get together with Dave Edmunds again and do you think Rockpile might perform together again someday?

I doubt it somehow. But, you know,: stranger things have happened. Maybe as a one-off thing. I could see. us doing something like that, but I could never see us touring together again. Rockpile was conceived overnight. We were formed' overnight, and we broke up exactly the same way. And I think that’s the best way for it to happen. There’s nothing worse than watching a band disintegrate—like they’ve lost their way, but they’re still grinding away because there may be a dollar bill in it somewhere. But, ultimately,

I think bands like that don’t win anything, and you end up letting a lot of people down in the end. So I think the split was for the best. We had a great career and image. Although we officially only did one Rockpile album, there were at least seven as far as we’re concerned, what with Dave’s albums and mine and Carlene’s and whoever else we did. We did a lot together and had a terrific time, but we just ran out. I saw Dave for the first time the week before we came over here. It was almost a year to the day that we broke up. I only spoke to him briefly because things are still a bit cool between us, though I’ve forgotten the exact reason why, to be quite honest.

What do you feel was the specific reason behind Rockpile’s breakup?

Well, there was a boring financial reason which wasn’t even between Dave and I. It was between Dave and Jake Riviera. But when I got into It, it was because I thought the money thing was just being used as an excuse to end it. I felt we should just knock it on the head. Why do you have to invent some stupid argument about something so you can say it’s not your fault? I knew what the real reason was. I think we all did. We had reached the point where we finally had to do some work. We had five or six years of not really working at all. We were more or less “working at it”—you know, working at being a band. I rehearsed more to come out on this tour than I did with Rockpile the whole time we were together. So we had arrived at this point where we had to do some actual work, and I think that was the actual point behind the breakup.

You seem to have matured with Nick The Knife. It’s unlike the parodic pop of Pure Pop or the Rockpile stylistics of Labour Of Lust. I think it’s ydur best yet.

Well, that’s great. I did the record over a long period of time. Some of the tunes I started to do when Rockpile was still together. It was recorded on spare afternoons and evenings and times like that. I didn’t think about it at the time, but I suppose when I was finishing it up, I was much more aware of what had happened —I listened to all these odds and ends, and I could hear that there was a thread running through it.

There also appears to be a lyrical change. There’s less black humor on this album, while the romance doesn’t seem to be cynical or tongue-in-cheek. Was this conscious?

Yeah, I think so. I’m a bit of a fool for romantic songs in any case, and I get the piss taken out of me quite a lot for it. (laughs) Again, there are a few songs on the record I wrote for Edmunds, at least with Edmunds in mind. And one was the very romantic thing called “Couldn’t Love You (Any More Than I Do).” That was for him because he is very good at singing those quiet, sort of sappy songs. Yeah, I’m a fool for that sort of romance.

Is there any specific reason why you re-recorded “Heart”?

Oh, no. It’s just that the new version is the original way I wrote it—with that sort of soft reggae feel and crooning vocal. Rockpile obviously wasn’t a reggae group, but Billy Bremner really liked the song, and he said, “Why don’t we do it like Dion & The Belmonts. We’ll do it more upbeat.” I thought that was a good version of the song, too. I don’t prefer one over the other, but I think it worked out well this way. It’s not real slick which, I think, makes it sound sort of tough.

You’ve been known for lifting riffs, bits and pieces from other songs to create your own. On the new LP, I can hear OCR’s “Green River” on “Stick It” and Buster Brown’s “Fanny Mae” on “BaDoom.” Is this still totally conscious on your part?

It depends. I hear about this a lot. I think I surprised a lot of people when I first came over here by owning up and admitting I did this—which I think everybody does. I think it all depends on whether. I do it consciously or not. Sometimes when there’s an obvious steal, you can let it be known. The one example I like to use is the Beatles’ “Back In TheU.S.S.R.” When they do “Oh, the Ukraine girls really knock me out,” that’s obviously meant to be like the Beach Boys. It’s a parody, and that’s OK. It’s great. But I don’t like when you hear people who sort of just slightly borrow from, say, Elton John, like Eric Carmen or someone like that. And Carmen’s done some great things in the past. But when you hear someone borrowing so obviously from Elton John, your reaction is, “Oh, c’mon! Leave that to Elton!” But nicking a little bit, saying, “Ah, that was a good idea. I’ll borrow that hook.” I think that sort of theft (laughs) is probably alright.

What’s your definition of pop music? Are bands like Journey, Foreigner, REO, etc. “pop music” because they’re popular?

Well, I suppose they are. I think what most people—at least people my age— consider pop music is music they kind of grudgingly liked. It was very, very popular. When I think of pop music, I think of 1910 Fruitgum Company or the Union Gap or even the Osmonds and people like that. And they all made great records somewhere along the way. But, in fact, pop music now is Journey, Foreigner and bands like that because it’s very safe. There’s no threat there, whatsoever. I can’t really hear any difference between Journey, Foreigner, REO. In fact, I can’t even tell the difference. They all sound exactly alike to me. And there’s no difference in the amount of threat between them and Barry Manilow or even Wayne Newton. And I can’t even be bothered enough to get on my iron horse and say, “This is dreadful! I’m going to stamp it out!” It doesn’t move me at all, so I have no interest in it one way or the other. There’s no humor or wit in it. It’s just one big, stodgy lump. But, unfortunately, I suppose that is pop music now days.

I personally feel that rock ’n’roll is currently at one of its worst and ^lowest points in history. Do you have an opinion on this?

Yeah, it’s sort of like the period they always talk about before the Beatles came on the scene. It’s like Fabian and Bobby Vee and those type of guys. But I don’t think there’s going to be another Beatles or anything like that. I think—for all practical purposes—it’s over and done with. The days of the huge, phenomenal success is over; it belongs to a different time. People are basically too cynical by nature these days because there’s so much to hear. You’re bombarded with it all the time, and it’s just another form of show business.

So you don’t think rock ’n’ roll can ever again be as important as it once was?

Oh, no. No. Definitely not. But I don’t find that idea especially depressing, ft’s just a fact. I think it has to do with the fact that people are much less naive than they once were. It’s not based on album sales because there will always be people who sell mammoth volumes of records. But you can’t imagine a Foreignermaniac or a Joumeymaniac, you know, a group not just selling records but taking over an entire generation, and even influencing what happens in politics. That will never, ever happen again.

What do you think of the trend back towards synthesizers?

Well, I’ve never grooved on synthesizers much because I don’t think they’re very sexy. They’re totally lacking in any kind of sex. Pianos and Hammond organs are what I like. Clive Langer once accused me of being a snob about it, and I imagine he’s right, though I don’t really mean to be. I have a theory that goes with an expression that used to be used in the music business, and I think it really applies to all walks of life, but if there was one rule in making records, it was that you can’t shine shit. With modern technology, that rule is now out the window. You can shine shit, and synthesizers have been partially responsible for this because it really doesn’t take skill to get the tone out of it. It’s completely electronically manufactured. It’s not as important for a performer to have that one small semblance of human emotion as it used to be. And for that reason, I don’t like them. It’s a shame when you can shine shit.

How about the remnants of punk rock, particularly the L.A. punk scene? You produced the Damned’s first LP.

Oh, yeah, but that was like six years ago! I think it’s like this: if you say the word “fuck” enough times, so what? How great! How wonderful! How dangerous! Spare me. No, I really don’t care for that sort of thing, really. What are they rebelling against by saying “Fuck off’? It’s not even funny anymore. It used to be at least funny. But now there‘s no fun or humor in it at all.

Do you enjoy performing or producing more?

I think the answer is whatever I’m not doing at the time. I haven’t been on the road long enough to be sick of it, but sometimes you do feel like, “Oh, no, not again. I have to get up there and do it again tonight,” and then you end up kicking yourself in the ass and saying, “I’m lucky to be able to do this for a living.” But sometimes you feel like “I wish I didn’t have to do this. I wish I was in the studio.” And vice versa. So it’s generally the thing I’m not doing at the time that I prefer to do the most!

Do you hgve a specific approach to producing? Were you heavily influenced by anyone in particular?

If there was anyone, it would probably be Edmunds because he was the first guy I ever watched do it, and I learned from him that there are no rules. When I was getting familiar with what he did, I used to sometimes get annoyed with him. I’d say, “Look, why are you hampering yourself by keeping in that format? Why stick to this traditional rockabilly when you can throw in a soul tambourine as well?” But I started to get familiar with how he made a few of those noises, and discovered it wasn’t all that difficult. I think the reputation I have as a producer is based, certainly not on record sales because there are hundreds of producers who sell more records than me, but I think it’s because I was one of the first people to come along at the time and sort of say, “Hey, anybody can do this.” If the engineer says “You can’t do that,” you should ask, “Well, why can’t I? Why not?” Because I was the first one to say, “Let’s try it,” I think I got the reputation I’ve got. Almost Blue is the first Elvis Costello album you haven’t produced. What did you think of the LP?

I thought it was great. I’m a fool for country music. I also thought it was a real brave move for him to make. I also thought it was very tastefully done. It’s been said that he could play country better than many people in Nashville, but if you want to make a REAL country album, you go to Nashville and you have Billy Sherrill produce it for you. And the fact that he pulled it off, and had to put up with a lot of hassles-^ naturally they don’t like outsiders in Nashville—he’d have to be quite brave to pull it off. I think it was great.

/ think it’s great too, but it’s getting a lot of bad reviews...

Yeah, but I think they just can’t see. Country seems to be much more defined in this country. I think it’s a hand-over from Woodstock and the Easy Rider mentality and things like that. And all that is crap, really, because George Jones is tougher than most rockers. He . can break your heart, he can rock out, and he’s also lived it which is a damn sight more than a lot of these wimps who are supposedly rock ’n’ roll. They wouldn’t know what a tough time was if it came up and bit them on the leg!

I read a review today that said Almost Blue proves Elvis can’t sing, and that your production hid his vocal limitations.

Well, that’s ridiculous. We had a lot of fun doing his records, but that’s a lot of nonsense.

Are you going to produce his next album?

Well, he’s doing it himself at the moment. In fact, I think he’s got the one after the next one written and ready as well! (laughs) He does a lot. Oh, I’d do anything with Elvis if he wanted me to do it, but he’s such an extraordinary—and that sounds like a cliche, I know—but he’s such an extraordinary talent that it’s probably bad for him to work with the same person producing all the time. I wasn’t going to do the last one as a matter of fact. We’ve done five or six LPs together now, and each time I’ve said, “El, how about getting someone else to do it?” I was extremely flattered that he kept asking me to do it, but I always said, “Sooner or later, you have to try something completely different to see what it’s like. Otherwise, you’ll get locked into doing it one way or the other.”

Are you producing Carlene’s next album?

Well, I have produced one, but I don’t think they’re going to release it. Warners sent me back in to overdub acoustic guitars and soft vocals because they thought the record sounded too tough. I did it that way on purpose. It’s very sparse. The songs are all very R&B. Listening to the radio over here, I can see why they probably don’t want to release it. I mean, they want Carlene to be a Linda Ronstadt type, and I’m sure that Linda is a charmer, but Carlene wants to be R&B. The record company was giving her a hard time, so I said, “That’s fair enough, I don’t mind.” I went back into the studio with the best will in the world, but in the end, I had to say, “I’m really sorry but I’m just making this bloody thing worse. I’m afraid unless you want to do it again with someone else, this is the way I like it—just the way it is, and I can’t hear it any other way.” It got released in England, but they were half-hearted about it because the parent company in the States didn’t like it.

Is it sometimes difficult being married to a person with the same occupation as yours?

It is when something like that happens, I must admit, because I felt like I’d let her down. She was real cool about it, but you can’t help feeling like “Oh, God, maybe if I’d just done that” or “Maybe I was a little lazy about that.” Because everytime you listen to a record you’ve made, you always hear things that aren’t quite right or something you wish you’d done differently. After awhile, you get so you expect that and get used to it—feeling as though you’ve fallen short of a hundred percent. But when something like that comes up, you start examining all those things, and feeling very bad about it. But there’s really nothing you can do.

Do you have any other future projects lined up right now?

No, I really don’t. I think I’m due for a vacation. I’m going to go on a long boat trip with Jake on the canals in France, and do a lot of wine tasting as soon as we finish this. And that’s about it. But I do think I’m going to do a lot of touring this year, especially if the record starts doing well. I must admit that I have been quite surprised by the way it’s been received in general. I think we’re going to do Australia and several stops in Europe and Scandinavia. But the good old U.S. of A. is still my favorite. Obviously, it’s a lot of good fun to play gigs, though I’d prefer to be playing smaller balls than we are on this tour.

Do you think it’s silly or unrealistic in this day and age to still adhere to a romantic philosophy of rock ’n’roll?

I don’t at all. In fact, I wish more people were that way, but I think people feel a bit embarrassed about it—about laying themselves on the line. There’s a singer—she’s huge in England and Europe but not as popular here—a girl called Randy Crawford. She’s a black singer, and she’s had loads of hits in England. She’s terrific, like the nearest thing to Aretha Franklin you can find around these days. And she breaks my heart. She can sing almost anything, and it’s always beautifully done. And people who do that—Fm not talking about lush love ballads because those aren’t romantic to me at all. If it’s really romantic, it sounds tough to me. It doesn’t sound sloppy. Barry Manilow sounds sloppy to me. It sounds like noise as opposed to any sort of real human emotion. When someone displays real emotion, that’s tough, that’s romantic. Real emotion is tough, and that’s the reason why a lot of people are afraid to show it nowadays. They imitate it as opposed to doing it for real, and that’s a real shame.

Afterwards, I run into Jake Riviera, who’s eating a roast beef dinner with members of the Cars, Noise To Go and some stagehands in a backstage area.,

“Did you get your interview, Bill?” he asks between munches.

' “Yeah. Nick’s a real nice guy.”

“Ah, he’s a lying bastard,” jokes Jake, laughing uproariously .

I don’t believe him, of course, but then I always take things much too seriously. ^