THE COUNTRY ISSUE IS OUT NOW!

Features

RAPPING TO THE GO-GO’S

On the occasion of the release of their latest album, America's only rock 'n' roll magazine that bills itself as such asked for the two most articulate Go-Go's to interview.

August 1, 1984
John Mendelssohn

The CREEM Archive presents the magazine as originally created. Digital text has been scanned from its original print format and may contain formatting quirks and inconsistencies.

On the occasion of the release of their latest album, America's only rock 'n' roll magazine that bills itself as such asked for the two most articulate Go-Go's to interview. Their management and record companies provided Kathy Valentine and Jane Wiedlin, the ones who stand on the left on stage.

Although she moved to California from Texas only a few years ago, bass guitarist Valentine speaks with no trace of a twang. Wiedlin, on the other hand, speaks in the little-girlish voice of a woman who seems intent on being perceived as Shirley Templish, but made no eye contact during the course of our extensive chat, during which America's only rock 'n' roll magazine that bills itself as such learned that most of the songs on Talk Show were inspired by real people and events, that those songs are the pick of the litter the group's four songwriters produced in different combinations over a three-month iperiod, and that the five young women consider one another best friends.

"The new album has given all of us a lot more self-confidence," Wiedlin revealed at one point. "We take what's written about us very seriously, and I think we'd begun to bejieve that maybe we weren't quite as worthwhile as we thought we were and stuff. But now I think everyone feels worthwhile again."

America's only rock 'n' roll magazine that bills itself as such learned also that Wiedlin will have acquired a miniature horse by the time this reaches print. "Dogs and cats aren't good to have when you're gone so much," she explained, "but a miniature horse is good because they're so dumb."

How did success prove different from how you imagined it would be?

VALENTINE: I was surprised by how fast it goes away. I almost feel that we're making a comeback, even though this is only our third album. Unless you're out there all the time, getting the reinforcement and the feedback that you're what they say you are, it's amazing how quickly you just go back to being yourself and not feeling like anything.

How did success change you?

VALENTINE: I don't know what makes it happen, but I went through a period when I had a very low tolerance to anything that was irritating or stressful, to little normal everyday things that happen all through your life. If I were in a restaurant and it was taking a while to get waited on, I would tense up.

And I have more fears now—there's more anxiety with success. It's not a matter of striving to get somewhere and the fear of not getting there. I never really had that fear of not being successful. The fear of losing it is a big one. Will I be able to write a good song tomorrow? Will I get to be a better musician?

WIEDLIN: I feel that I've become a much less tolerant person than I once was. I feel I do a good job, and I expect everyone around me to do a good job on whatever it is they're supposed to do. When they don't, I get very angry. I don't like to put up with other people's mistakes because I don't think I make that many myself. All of us do our jobs really well. If I call up our business manager and say something as stupid as, "Why don't I have a check guarantee card?" It's like, "How can you do that? I pay you moneyl I write good songs and I do a good job on tour!" I don't want to put up with imperfection in people at all.

But on the other hand, I don't like people who are like that, so when I take a look at myself I go "Yuckl"—because I don't want to turn into that sort of person. I don't think it's a star or prima donna attitude. Nobody in the band sees herself that way, and other people don't either.

It's definitely not something that sprang out of nowhere. I was raised in an atmosphere of perfection. Everybody in my family is an overachiever. But in the past I never let that affect how I dealt with other people. I just took it out on myself, really ragged on myself if I was imperfect. But it's something that I realize, and I'm trying to work on it. It's not a pretty thing.

Another thing that really surprised me was that I had this vision of all of our friends being rock stars. You kind of think that there's a rock star club, with all the rock stars hanging around with each other, living next door to each other and seeing each other all the time. But it's really not like that. If it was, it might be a lot easier on the topic of romance because you'd come in contact with people who have the same status.

VALENTINE: It's weird how lazy success can make you in regards to what you do for your success. Considering how much time I have to myself, I think I spend very little actually practicing or working on songs. I'd like to change that about myself because I think that's a really bad way of living to get into. I spend too much time just hanging out.

WIEDLIN: Especially when you remember how obsessed we used to be with the idea of being songwriters.

VALENTINE: I remember thinking that I would have given anything to be able to write songs all day, but now I pamper myself endlessly. I like get up and like go to my gym for two hours and exercise and do steam and lay out by the pool for a couple hours. Then I'll go like shopping for a couple hours. Then I'll like tidy up my home and turn on the TV or go rent videos. It's -a pretty indulgent existence. Pathetic! I won’t sit down and think about working on songs more than once a week. I guess it’s because I think of it as a job now.

TURN TO PAGE 57

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 43

WIEDLIN: I’m afraid of songwriting. Every time I open my notebook, I get an anxiety attack. When you have nothing to lose, songwriting is the wonderful, wonderful thing. Who cares if you write a bad song? And if you write a great one, big deal! But then, after you write the good songs that people know about, it makes you what you are to the world, and it becomes this monumental thing. It determines whether or not you’re going to have your home and your friends and your feelings of self-worth. I think that’s the main thing that’s changed. God, this interview’s going to come off as us cowering in the corner!

How has stardom affected your love lives?

VALENTINE: It’s really bad for any kind of romantic relationship. All of ours were smashed against the rocks within two years. We’ve been off for like a year. You see somebody, but yet in two months we’re going to go off for a long time. In general, I don’t think a guy wants a girlfriend that isn’t going to be there.

WIEDLIN: Of course we’re attracted to people in the same business as us because naturally you want to be with someone who shares your interests. It’s so hard to meet a man who’s on the same level as you and to expect that as time goes on your careers will parallel each other. We all had boyfriends and it was fine, but then we did really well and all the relationships fell apart. Then we weren’t so well and some of the relationships got repaired. You have to be sensitive to the competition factor. You can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.

VALENTINE: We don’t get asked on dates. I have to go after anyone I’m interested in. People assume that you’re not interested or that you don’t want to go out or that you’re gay because you’re a female musician. I always try to approach people as friends and then let them know through the friendship that I’d like to get more involved. I feel too self-conscious to let somebody know I’m interested in them.

WIEDLIN: I had to completely change my personality as far as that aspect. In my whole life I’d never been aggressive with men.

Don’t hunky bachelors present themselves backstage?

VALENTINE: Little kids come backstage—the children of the promoters.

WIEDLIN: Sometimes people will find out what hotel we’re in and wait for us in the lobby, but all they usually want is an autograph or something.

People who’ve recently struck it rich often complain that they’re suddenly surrounded by “friends” they weren’t aware they had.

WIEDLIN: You always see that in movies, but it hasn’t happened to me at all. I’ve always been the sort of person who changes friends over the years. I know some people who still have the same ones that they had when they were five, but I’m always getting involved with new people.

VALENTINE: I hate to be alone so I like to have lots of friends. When I’m at home alone I’m usually going through my phonebook looking for friends to call. I have to have a good supply of friends, so that any moment of the day there are people I can call who’ll do something with me. It’s really important to me since I don’t have much family out here or a relationship with a boyfriend right now.

When you and friends go out to dinner, for example, do you often find the check gravitating inexorably towards you?

VALENTINE: I generally don’t ask someone out to eat with unless I’m willing to pay. I like to pay the bill.

WIEDLIN: I know that next year if I don’t have any money and they have good jobs they’ll do the same for me.

Why did you leave your original manager for Irving Azoff’s company?

VALENTINE: She left us. She just felt that she was becoming part of a world that she wasn’t sure about—one of those people.

WIEDLIN: It started out that she was just helping us and then it turned into her being our manager and having to make big deals and being surrounded by shady people. She was always the buffer between the sharks and us, and had to absorb all that ickiness. She started feeling that she was turning into one of those sort of people— into a liar. She never really quit. She just took off. How do you think you’re perceived by the women’s movement?

WIEDLIN: Because of our image, feminists have looked down their noses at us. People think we exploit being women, which we don’t think at all. People who define themselves as feminists first don’t approve of us.

(To Wiedlin) Was there any resentment of your writing with the Mael brothers for Talk Show?

WIEDLIN: I felt funny about it because we’d always had a policy of no outside writers. But it wasn’t much of a policy because Peter Case wrote a song with Charlotte for the first album and our first single was co-written.

Do you get interesting mail?

VALENTINE: You get proposals and invitations to parties. Kids write to ask if we’ll play at their sixteenth birthday parties. Or even if you don’t want to play, come anyway.

WIEDLIN: I try to answer if it seems that the person’s normal. I don’t answer anyone that I think has got any kind of psycho leanings. I just send one of our postcards that says, “Thank you for writing.”

VALENTINE: In the past, I wrote back to every single person who wrote me. But I’ve ignored it for a year, and now I have this boxful that’s sort of overwhelming.

WIEDLIN: A lot of times people will send money. They’ll send $2 and say, “This is for you. Love, Your fan.”

VALENTINE: I got a lot of fives and ones for my birthday.

WIEDLIN: I feel that I know a lot of my fans really well. I’ve got about 10 kids whose lives I know really intimately because they write like twice a week. They say things like, “Corky the Snake is sick, but I think he’s getting better.” You get to know their families and their pets and their jobs—everything.

Our assistant Linda Lou reads all our mail before we get it. There was a time when we’d get all our mail straight, but then we got a few scary things.

VALENTINE: They said things like, “You’re wonderful and I love you so much that I want to kill you.” When you’re on tour and playing the city that person lives in, you feel all nervous and scared.