OUT OF THE LITTER BOX & INTO THE FIRE!

STRAY CATS

OUT OF THE LITTER BOX & INTO THE FIRE!

by Karen Sohlosberg

What happens when you try to domesticate the Stray Cats? Example: A very sincere young girl writes "I Love You Brian" endlessly in neat, Bound longhand across both sides of seven sheets of looseleaf paper, as meticulous and at heartfelt as a grueling homework assignment. Example: Macy's starts carrying a futt selection of rockabilly clothing. Example: Jhe Bob and Gail Orchestra, playing at a E&t Mitzvah in suburban L.A. (no, not the Valley), covers "Rock This Town"; this is later Explained as being standard fare nowadays in similar celebrations of youth, age, or religious achievement. .

Can rebels still rouse when they're called upon to rouse upwards of two million people? Does the ominousness ahd suggestiveness that is the base fpr this mythologized outlaw music called "rockabilly" lose its power when diluted through all age groups; if, as it has been suggested, your parents think the Stray Cats are cute2 And maybe it's me, actually. Because I know the Stray Cats didn't stop being good when .they became hugely popular. As a matter of fact, they're much better now than they were4he first time I saw them in a half-empty Big Apple clothing store turned disco turned ro$k club in January of 1981. Their talent h&s grown in the proverbial leaps and bounds^ And they are FUN. That's an important fact to remember. •

But they're undoubtedly popular, as everyone from MTV to ET (that's "Entertainment Tonight," yahoos) has created a so-called rockabilly revival around the Stray Cats' tattooed presence. Can quality and popularity go hand-in-paw, as it were?

Another important fact to remember: Our young Cats are not cartoon characters or greased-back stereotypes out of some '50s twilit zone biker's paradise. If there is a socalled rockabilly rbyival don't blame it on the Stray Cats. Long bgfore the Cats' now legendary 1980 pounce gver the sea to successfully seek fame and "fortune in Merrie Olde, the land where rockabilly never died, our three rockabilly rebels wefe. in fact, rebelling in earnest. They did, in fact,* or ease their hair, wear baggy trousers, brothel creepers and leather jackets; they had r&a\ tattoos, they looked mean, and they played those crazy sounds, man! Their hearts have always been in it.

The Stray Cats are no more a genre revival band than are Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. Granted, rockabilly is a more limited form of rock 'n' roll than some, but it doesn't have to be limiting for the creative rocker. And the Cats have expanded rockabilly's traditional limits in the past. Original songs like "Runaway Boys" and "Built For Speed" and obscure covers like "My One Desire" all had a ferociously modern twist, a modern sound.

Brian Setzer, somewhat impatient (and fairly so) with still having to answer nebulous charges of revivalism, retreats a bit into silence before answering, while Lee Rocker shrugs it off good-naturedly, saying, "Let 'em talk," and laughs.

"I don't know what to say, really. I mean, revive what?" says Brian, finally. "It's like reviving jazz. Is jazz '30s music?"

His point conceded, Brian laughs and continues. "Jazz just never died. The same thing with rock 'n' roll, and us, you know?"

"It's a timeless thing" agrees Lee. "It's not really limited to one generation; that's really the appeal of it."

"Limits to rock 'n' roll?" muses Brian. "Naah...I don't feel limited by it at all," he says, shaking his newly-browned locks (close to ' his natural color, he says, then smiles. "It's •something different...look a little bit more like Elvis." And laughs).

; "They are not a revival band," says Dave Edmunds, currently wearing his producer's c&p once again for the Cats, having produced most of the band's first English album— most importantly, all the hits: "Runaway Boys," "Rock This Town" and "Stray Cat Strut"—and now the newest one, Rant N' Rave With The Stray Cats (OK, get this straight: Rant... is actually the third Stray Cats LP everywhere except in th^ood old U.S. of A., where the compilation Built For Speed was the domestic vinyl c§. but from our lads). "They don't dress up like that just for their gigs," he continues. "They do live that lifestyle."

Edmunds, of course, is well-qualified to judge a revival band by its covers, and has little patience for any but the real thing. He may not have created the rich, deep and deliciously ominous sound that has come to be the Cats' trademark (see hits listed above), but, according to Brian, Edmunds was best able to translate the Cats' rockabilly vision into something vital and fresh.

"What you want to do is," explains Brian, "you want to take the best things out of the '50s—you want to take the slapping bass, gymnasium snare drums—" he makes suitably explosive noise "—and a twangy guitar. You don't want it to sound like an old record, 'cause a lot of those old records are kind of scratchy and too echo-y; they didn't have the technology to record that well. But they had the feel. So you want to take those three things, the best things, and you want to make it sound modern. And Dave is the only cat that I could imagine would know how to do that."

As to what they look for in their producer...

"Ummm, you know...nice biceps, nice build," says Brian. "Blond hair, blue eyes. That's why I like Dave." He laughs, then continues, sincerely, "He's the only cat that knows what we sound like."

"It'S cool to look different from everybody else -Brian

There is quite a mutual admiration society going on between the young Americans and the still young-at-heart Welshman (they even put a picture of them all together and cozy at the console on the inside sleeve of the album. A little grease on his hair and a couple of tattoos and Dave'd fit right in).

"Working with Dave was one of the best things we could've done," says Lee enthusiastically, to which Brian gives a vigorous nod of assent; referring not only to the studio collaborations but to the assorted shared concert bills.

Do they see this relationship, then, as being fairly long-term?

"Yeah," says Brian, wide-eyed and earnest, "as long as he wants to do it, we want him, you know?"

The result, the aforementioned Rant N' Rave With The Stray Cats (sounds like there'll be instructions and a bouncing ball on the inside) is just like it says, a wholehearted rant and rave. Given the considerations raised in the first few paragraphs, maybe Rant's sound isn't as satisfyingly threatening, maybe it's a bit too safe; but it is a true labor of love. Hell, any band that can put a picture of the lead singer on his tuff motorcycle with a caption that reads "The WIMild One" has its collective tongue firmly implanted in cheek and its collective heart firmly pounding in the right place under the leather jacket.

"Everybody tries to be the cool, tough guy," admits Brian, and laughs. "I'm certainly not a tough guy."

Perhaps there aren't any tough guys, then. Maybe it's all bluff.

"Sure, " Brian agrees heartily in his best Long Island accent, an alphabet without "r"s, "sure they're all just trying...Nah, there's a couple of tough ones walking around in my neighborhood, but, you know what I mean. You don't want to appear like a little wimp; like the kid that everybody picks on in school, so..." He laughs again. "It's just something I've done for a long time now, and that I like to do. I guess I'm really a greaser, you know? Like, that's not trying to sound corny—that's just how I feel comfortable."

(I knew a cat like that once. A real cat, a black one named Sidney. Could chase dogs three times his size off his lawn; they'd cross the street rather than risk encroaching on his turf. 'Course he didn't have any front claws. It was all bluff. He was really a pussycat.)

"I don't think there's a 'Stray Cat Strut' -g on the album, something that grabs you like J that," Brian snaps his fingers. "But I think -o it's a better album. I've got reservations on * $11 the other records, but his one I'm happy with."

This being, for all intents and purposes, the Cats' second album (because, one: the only place that matters, apparently, is the States; and two: everyone forgets Gonna Ball, the Stray's second and unjustly maligned album, which received a critical and commercial cold shoulder that still mystifies Brian), there is a lot riding on it. Are they worried about its reception?

Brian pauses. "In America? No. No, I know it's a good album. I'm proud of it. If it gets slagged, I can't blame anybody. It's not like—oh, we got rushed around, blame the record company. We took our time, and we're happy with it."

"We did everything we wanted to," Lee concurs. =

One of Brian's proudest achievements on J Rant (in addition to playing a mean 2 Hawaiian steel guitar on "Eighteen Miles To J Memphis") is his doo-wop number, "I Won't 8 Stand In Your Way.." Backed by the New York doo-wop group Fourteen Karat Soul, it's bound to melt a few hearts. Brian had first seen the band at a doo-wop show at the Bottom Line in New York, and while recording the album in London he decided he had to have these guys for the background doo-wops.

"Dave said, 'Oh, it sounds good the way it is.' I said, 'Believe me—" Brian laughs. "Me and Dave tried to do the doo-wops. It sounded like Perry Como." Both he and Lee crack up.

Unfortunately, no one knew how to get in touch with the band. But, as fate would have it, Fourteen Karat Soul just happened to be in London when the Cats were in dire need of a doo-wop, and came in to the rescue. The Cats also used Fourteen Karat Soul in the video for "I Won't Stand In Your Way," which was shot deep in the heart of doo-wop country, on a street corner in Brooklyn.

In addition to "I Won't Stand," some of the tastier cuts on the album are the jazzy "Too Hip, Gotta Go," "Look At That Cadillac" (whose chorus sounds like a vintage car horn), and the exuberant "How Long You Wanna Live, Anyway?"

"That was recorded like they did in the '50s," says Lee, "with just three microphones. If you wanted to be louder you'd walk up closer, or back off to be softer."

"Yeah, we just did it totally live," continues Brian. "One microphone for me to sing through and two set up in the room. We did it like they did it, like Little Richard did it, you know?" He laughs. "It was the last song and we just wanted to have an allout rocker."

In the age of 48-track studios and synthesizers and computer chips up the wazoo, that disregard for technology alone is enough to brand one a rebel (or should I say disregard for such technological information...). It is in keeping with the song's theme, however, and in its obvious but affectionate Eddie Cochran roots.

"It's for Eddie, really, that song—'' says Brian, then adds quickly, "—not meaning the lyrics, but the feel. "

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The Cats have always had that feel, and their musical expression of it has improved along the way. Brian's guitar work and vocals, most noticeably, have grown in sophistication, dexterity and texture; his stage presence is magnetic: a natural, boyish charm with enough deviltry in it to keep him from ever being called too sweet.

"I know my singing's gotten better," Brian says cheerfully, and adds that he's noticed his playing improving, especially after a jam session with famed rockabilly guitarist James Burton (listen to his work with Ricky Nelson) in L.A. "After I played with him, I got better. Dave does this finger picking really well, the Chet Atkins stuff, and I could never quite get the hang of it. I was always a little off. After I jammed with Burton, something happened and I just got better. And with Dave, too. He was jammin' with us every night, in the Midwest; he showed me a couple of things, and I was watchin' him, and I felt myself improve. It's a great feeling; it doesn't happen that often."

Would you have wanted to have been born earlier; been counted in the same company with those like Burton?

"I think we're better off now," Brian sdys. "I think this goes on through out the ages: for instance, in the '50s people wouldn't drive around in a '57 Chevy, 'cause their Mom had it. You would take a '32 Ford and hot rod it, you know? It's the same thing now. It's cool to look different than everybody else, and nowadays you take a '57 Chevy and it's cool, because it's unobtainable."

This is all very well and good, of course, but it brings us right back to the conundrum posed at the beginning: when what is cool (read: different) becomes commonplace, what happens to the former Next Big Thing? The English reviews of Rant... have been less than enthusiastic, although it's being received wonderfully in the States (the first single, "(She's) Sexy + 17," is already in the Top Ten and climbing).

But I don't want to keep seeing the Stray Cats inextricably associated with rockabilly revivals. They'll be riding the revival circuits the rest of their lives that way. The Cats need to keep experimenting within the parameters of rockabilly, and walking that fence between quality and quantity. They do, after all, have nine lives. ^