Isn't that Nick Lowe?

Isn't that Nick Lowe?

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Karen Schlosberg

�I seem to occupy a funny sort of position in the music business,� Nick Lowe says with a trace of a grin and a sigh. �I�m considered to be something of an eccentric, so people kind of indulge me and my flights of fancy. I�ve always felt like an outsider and that�s really the way I like it. It leaves me free to sort of snipe away on the outskirts. I earn a living; I have my mates; I have a certain measure of respect from people I respect, and that�s the way I like it.�

This philosophical shrugging hasn�t come easily. Lowe has usually made more of a mark on pop history than on pop charts with his work as producer, songwriter and musician (not particularly in that order). That can be frustrating for both the ego and the wallet. After two brilliant albums, Pure Pop For Now People and Labour Of Lust (1978 and 1979), then a disappointing group effort with Rockpile (�the outfit most likely to who never did�) in 1980, Seconds Of Pleasure, Lowe released two more disappointing LPs: 1982�s Nick The Krife (occasionally brilliant but mostly inconsistent) and 1983�s The Abominable Showman (the title backfired).

In 1984 Lowe released Nick Lowe And His Cowboy Outfit which, while still lacking the bite and raw edge of his first two solo outings, nevertheless stood on its own as a whole musical thought, not just demo tapes shoved together on deadline. The change in attitude was apparently caused by a synthesis of mental concentration and sobriety, a state with which Lowe had increasingly become unfamiliar.

�It�s sometimes depressing,� Lowe had said at the time, �because the hard work comes emotionally, really, by fear of failure, and fear of—-we�re getting quite deep here, now. Deep for me, anyway,� Lowe said, then laughed. �Fear of failure and getting embarrassed and confused, things like that. I�d done three what I thought were really good albums that came out with great critical reviews, by and large, then disappeared without a trace. And you can take it sort of once or twice, but when it happens three or four times you start to wonder about your own sanity.�

The Rose Of England, his 1985 offering, was even tighter; his best since Labour... but it almost didn�t make it past the label, who said it wasn�t commercial enough and it didn�t have a single.

�I suppose (it was) because the record doesn�t sound very modern,� Lowe says. �There seems to be a sound which all records have got to have nowadays in order to get on the radio, and I actually don�t like that sound, which rather puts me in a bad position.� He laughs. �The best records, I think, have a sort of spontaneity and a little element of the human being at work; I�m not interested in getting it all right, all correct. I listen to the radio nowadays and I keep on dying to hear a record with a mistake on it. They�re all so bloody perfect, they really get on my nerves. There�s a generation growing up thinking that because a record sounds good—-there�s tons of bass, a reafThigti, clear top and a big snare sound-^-fhat�s got something to do with music, but it�s not. All the soul has been completely eradicated, which I suppose ought to lay at the door of teams of Japanese scientists working away in some computer chip factory in a suburb of Tokyo. No, give me a Hammond organ any day, rather than another bloody noise that they can do on a synthesizer.�

Lowe bemoaned this to old friend (and self-proclaimed �non-stop Nick Lowe fan�) Huey Lewis, who proceeded to tell him that it was possible to have a modern sound with soul. �I suppose I must�ve said, �All right, prove it,�� Lowe says, and the result of that was the single meant to �put a smile on Columbia�s face.� Lewis chose a song from the vast back catalogue of Lowe�s work, �I Knew The Bride,� best-known in its 1979 incarnation on Dave Edmunds�s Gef It (although Lowe crashed his way through the vocals on the 1978 Stiffs Live LP).

�Nick Lowe is a brilliant songwriter,� Lewis says. �I mean, he is a brilliant songwriter. Right there with Elvis Costello, as far as I�m concerned, in terms of just songwriters. So I thought of that one (�I Knew The Bride�), �cause it�s so great, and as good as Edmunds�s versions was— and I love the way Edmunds sings it—I just thought it was too fast. You can�t hear the words, and the words are great. I thought we could lend it a different flavor,� he says, adding, �It�s one of the best things that I�ve ever been involved with.� Lewis�s unbridled enthusiasmone could even say gushing—over Lowe is heartwarming: �He�s one of the most articulate, intelligent, nice, funny guys I�ve ever met, and I just love the guy. I really do.� (That�s just one small sample.)

Though Lewis�s and Lowe�s amendment appeased the big guys, the label never quite managed to pick up the ball and run with it. It was Lowe�s last vinyl for Columbia, and one can�t help but wonder if they did as little as possible and then dropped it. And that�s a shame, not only for the single�s sake, but for the sake of the whole album, which contained a well-balanced mixture of Lowe originals—the title track, the single, �Darlin Angel Eyes,� �(Hope To God) I�m Right�; and cover tracks—John Hiatt�s incisive �She Don�t Love Nobody� and Elvis Costello�s made-for-Lowe �Indoor Fireworks� (�I suppose it�s about the breakup of his marriage,� Lowe says. �As my marriage [to singer Carlene Carter] is over as well, it seemed an appropriate song, although really, in my own situation, there weren�t any indoor fireworks at all; it just sort of stopped—no flinging things about, or screaming matches or anything like that.�

But Lowe remains, as ever, goodhumored about his checkered career. On the production end, he�s just finished an LP with the British group The Men They Couldn�t Hang, and has been asked by Costello to produce his next album. (A planned project with Pete Townshend, to be backed by the Fabulous Thunderbirds, fell through because, according to Lowe, Townshend said, �My bottle is gone,� meaning not his Courvoisier but his nerve.) And he�s tentatively planning a next album, to record with various people to suit each individual song, much like Pure Pop ...; �I think it gives the record more of a K-Tel quality, which kind of appeals to me.

�I�ll always be doing it, I think, because with the sort of stuff I do, it�s something you get better at as you get older,� Lowe says. �A lot of great country and soul singers sound more believable when they get on. What they lose in exuberance, perhaps, is made up for in believability, as long as they don�t burn themselves out and just become a joke, which is a very easy thing to happen.�

As for how he defines his own role— songwriter, singer, producer, bass player—Lowe laughs. �I see myself as a sort of bon vivant, I think, a sort of bouievardier, first and foremost...I honestly don�t know. I suppose it�s how other people perceive me. I see myself, really, as more of a sort of commentator,� he says, then laughs. �Sort of an anchor man.�