 Going Places
An interview with Jeremy Toback
By Gail Worley
"I was
camped out in my tenement palace on Sunset
Boulevard, writing art songs with no
choruses, when I took a little vacation to visit
this good friend of mine in Seattle," says
singer/songwriter, Jeremy Toback, 33, recalling
how he came to meet the guitarist for one of the
90's most phenomenally popular and influential
rock bands. Once in Seattle, he continues,
"I met his friend Stone, who happened
to be in this band [called] Pearl Jam." Toback admits he
had no idea Pearl Jam were in any way a big
deal -- that he'd been rather out of the pop
music loop, having worked mostly as a jazz
bassist and songwriter. Toback and Gossard
"talked about drummers and seemed to share
the same fixations," he says, laughing at the memory. "A
couple weeks later, Stone called and asked if I
wanted to jam with Shawn (Smith) and Regan
(Hagar) and maybe make a record. He didn't seem
to mind that I hadn't played bass in about nine
months."
Toback played
bass on Interiors, the sophomore album by
Gossard’s side project, Brad, and then
returned to Los Angeles to work on his first solo
album, Perfect Flux Thing (released in the
summer of 1997). Perfect Flux Thing marked
an impressive first effort of what one might call
alterna-folk rock (think Dave Matthews, Toback's
label mate at RCA) that mined the same musical
vein as Crosby Stills & Nash or even Buffalo
Springfield (with Toback's passionate, rough
voice strongly recalling a young Stephen Stills).
Lyrically, Toback showed himself to be quite the
poet as well, putting words together more for the
way their syllables bounced off each -- creating
both conflict and accordance -- rather than for
their actual linear meaning. Through songs like
"Eden Trampoline" and
"Unbecome," Toback painted romantic,
heady images that integrated perfectly with the
somewhat sparse and highly understated musical
arrangements. Another True
Fiction, released this past July, is a
different record. Toback has honed his ability to
tell a story through songs that find him speaking
directly from his heart. Musically, Fiction possesses a lush,
intoxicating denseness that rocks a bit harder
than the music he made two years ago. His voice
bears a newfound confidence as well. Jeremy
Toback has been through some changes, and the
stories behind every walk through the fire, every
triumph and every loss, are imprinted on
compositions that are absolutely spellbinding in
their beauty. Another True
Fiction is one of the best records you
didn't hear this year.
I've been a fan
of Jeremy Toback's music since the release of Flux
and fell in love with Another True
Fiction almost immediately. This turned
out to be no accident at all. Upon checking the
liner notes, I saw that Toback had given a nod of
thanks to Yogi Bhajan, the Indian spiritualist
who brought Kundalini Yoga (also called the Yoga
of Awareness) to the States. I've been practicing
Kundalini Yoga since 1995, so I knew right away
the reason Toback's songs resonated so strongly
with me. In this interview, Jeremy Toback spoke
with me from his home in Los Angeles about the
journey of self-discovery involved in the making
of Another True
Fiction, his spirituality, and his secret
for unlocking the creative unconscious.
**************************
What have you
been doing in the space between the release of
Perfect Flux Thing in 1997 and the making of Another True
Fiction?
When I got off
the road after Flux, I was pretty much a
wreck physically and emotionally. I wasn't even
sure that I wanted to continue playing music
professionally. Loving music and loving this
business are two different things (laughs). Through lots of
Kundalini yoga, meditation and alternative
healing, I began to find the strength and heart
to make music [again]. It didn't hurt that I had
some great people around to urge me on. So, in
many ways, Another True
Fiction became, by default, the story of
a guy putting his life back together.
How do you
think your songwriting has evolved and what's
changed for you that maybe comes out in the
songs?
I used to write
from a place of trying to get to pure expression,
using a lot of word puzzles and poetic collages,
as if direct expression wasn't pure. And I
[still] like poetry, but now I am trying to
communicate more directly. I think I've become
much more of a communicator and little bit less
of a puzzle maker, [though] I'll still put word
flourishes in. A good friend of mine once urged
me to show some compassion for the listener and
maybe let them in on the secret (laughs). The same things are
there in this new record that were in Perfect
Flux Thing. Maybe I'll hone it down though.
I'll say what the song's about in the chorus. It
took me years to open myself up to the kind of
direct and digestible honesty I now aspire to.
[Becoming] more direct in my communication,
that’s something I want to continue to work
with.
A strong
point of the work on Another True
Fiction is the close attention you pay
to details. Did you set out to create that kind
of a record?
I set out to
make an ambient dub record, so that says
something about the worth of intention...(laughs). There is a certain
density of stuff going on. I like that feeling in
music. I will say that my favorite records,
whether it's an Eno/Lanois or
Froom/Blake-produced thing, or Tom Waits, have
great attention to texture/space/detail. It
didn't hurt that this record took so long [to
complete] that I had a lot of time to fine tune
stuff.
Tell me what
the title of the record means to you?
To me, Another True
Fiction is the idea that, in the song as
well as in life, whenever we communicate with
each other, we do so through stories we tell
about our lives, little fictions that hopefully
contain some truth. That's how we make meaning
out of things, by telling each other stories.
Things are at once both true and untrue,
depending on your perspective. To me, songs are
just an extension of this attempt to make up
stuff that says something true...thus
"another true fiction." It's sort of my
Zen Koan of a title.
I understand
you did a good deal of collaborating with other
songwriters for this CD. What was it like working
with Jules Shear?
This record
brought me to a bunch of people who I had a great
time writing with. In general, the collaborations
were a great learning experience and really
helped to shake me out of my little lyrical world
and open me up to a more universal way of
writing. Working with Jules was really good but
it was really awkward at first. With Jules in
particular, I remember bringing in this verse to
"Revelation," which was kind of
self-serious, about "Driving across
America" and seeing the "Spirit
hiding" etc. And he immediately cooked up
this sexy good/bad boy thing, [changing the
lyrics to] "Driving across Miss
America" ...and.seeing the "spirit
hiding...under her dress" -- stuff that
brought a new, lighter dimension to the song. He
totally spiced it up. As a matter of fact, that
experience really opened me up to writing lyrics
on my own, like those in "Green Light,"
which have much more whimsy than your typical
Toback tune.
I recently
spoke with Ed Kowalcyzk of the band Live, and he's very much a
spiritualist whose personal beliefs filter
themselves in to his work, but in a universal
manner. Is that what you're concerned with doing
– to whatever degree -- with your music as
well?
I guess that's
both a yes and no answer. I have to be careful
here because I'm not really attached to the
result. What I'm trying to share is my own
journey, but not everything is autobiographical (laughs). My songs can't help
but be influenced or infused with what I'm going
through and, of late, there's been lots of what
one might call spiritual work [going on] in my
days. I'm not particularly interested in
converting people to my way of being a
"spiritual" guy, but I am fascinated by
pop music's potential ability to uplift through
what's being said in the lyric, and the more
primal effect of a song's sound and vibration. My
yoga teacher said to me [about Another True
Fiction] "Its like a new age yoga
record in wolf's clothing!" (Laughs) I'm more interested in
sharing my experience; I'm not interested in
proselytizing. I'm more interested in
communication. If you don't get it, that's cool
too (laughs).
What's up
with the backward vocal masking at the front of
"Universe Work"?
There was a
little struggle between Marvin Etzioni (co
songwriter) and me, a creative struggle, over how
to begin that song. Marvin and I couldn't agree
on how to start "Universe." We had
recorded the song with a chorus intro and I
wanted to cut it, Marvin wanted to keep it. And
there was a bit of a struggle back and forth. So
we compromised and flipped the tape over. The
backward masking is "Let the Universe Work
begin" backwards. That's all it is. No great
subversive intentions there. (Laughs)
"Perfect
from the Start," one of my favorite songs on
this record, has a really strong cathartic feel
to it. Is that song autobiographical and if so to
what degree?
It's my favorite
song on the record, too. I think it was the last
song we recorded. As far as where the lyrics come
from, there's always an attempt to just fish out
the words from the unconscious of the universe.
Sometimes, with almost no effort, they just come
out. That's one of the songs that just went
through me. So there's that aspect of it. Though
my own childhood issues are certainly in the
first verse of the song, this is one of those
lyrics where I tried to make the story general
enough for people to find their own experiences
in them. Looking around me, a lot of people
around my age are trying to work through feelings
that weight them down, from their childhood. I
made an attempt to take on a woman's voice in the
second verse. People ask me Why do you say
"Little girl trust"?' and it's because
isn't necessarily me I'm singing about.
And - - though my parents freak a little about it
and wonder whether it's about [them] -- the whole
point is that, no matter what situation we come
out of, there's something very valuable to be
found in sifting through the ashes and finding
that unaffected core that's always been and
always will be "perfect."
Does the
performance of these songs allow you to really
feel free or purged of negative energy or
whatever?
I'm getting
better in general at tuning myself to the joy of
performance and these songs are great at
reminding me to savor the moment as I sing them.
"Come
Around" is probably my favorite song. While
I was listening to it, I was thinking that there
are two ways to look at the chorus "I'll
come around." One is as a physical motion of
"coming around," as in to someone's
house, and the other is "coming around"
as in coming around to a way of thinking or to a
state of enlightenment. What inspired you to
write that song and how do you interpret the
lyrics for yourself?
This was also
the first co-written song, which is something I
was not accustomed to doing. Marvin had this
chorus "I'll come around," which I
really liked, and he had these verses. But, for
whatever reason, his verses didn't speak to me. I
knew I needed to change the verses completely to
feel more like something I'd sing. Maybe if he
were to record the song with his verses on his
own record, it would really work, but I needed to
go in a different direction. So, now you have
this phrase, "I'll come around" -- this
chorus -- and you have to decide, what's it going
to mean?
Each verse sets
up a different subject, and way of coming
around.' The "I" in [the chorus] could
be a friend or a lover or even the divine spirit,
if you wanted to stretch it. In the first verse,
it's maybe a person who is troubled -- who isn't
seeing the easy way out of something, as in where
I sing "You say I've got my back to the
simple cure/Are you trying to turn me?" And
the "I'll come around," is them saying,
"I'll be ok" -- assuring a concerned
friend that he/she will, in fact, find the
solution that's right there to be found.
After the second
verse, it's the person on the outside of the
problem, looking in, and offering solace or
support [and] assuring a troubled friend that
he/she will be there for them in their time of
need…"Fire and Rain" stuff.
Towards the end,
and in the last verse it's divinity/god/the
universe coming around physically and
metaphysically through [the lyric]
"breathe deep baby, let love in." I
don't know if that actually clarifies or confuses
things, but there it is.
"Will I
find You" has a lot of early Neil Young vibe to it. Do you
hear that from a lot of people?
Yes...We were
kind of aiming for a Marvin Gaye groove, but Neil's not a bad notion to
land on. I'll take the compliment.
I hear the
Middle Eastern motif in "Through to
Me," that sounds very George
Harrison-esque. How did you write that
song?
I had the main
lick for "Through To Me" hanging around
since the first tour for Flux, but thought that
it might be too Beatles-esque. I played it for
Marvin and I was a bit paranoid that it was too
similar to, I don't even know what Beatles song,
but Marvin was like No, it's great!' and [he]
persuaded me to write a song around it. So, we
kind of jammed on it and [came up with] that Zeppelin funk-raga feel it has.
We recorded the song in one take on the last eve
of the first sessions for the record. It was one
of those moments when we all looked at each other
and knew something very cool had just gone down.
Also, I am
thinking the chorus of that song is like a
mantra. What do you think?
I do think of
this song's chorus as a kind of mantric plea for
an open heart.
Talking about
the Beatles, and thinking that if
we'd done this interview 30 years ago, rather
than discussing how spirituality figures into
your music, I'd probably ask if you'd been
inspired by taking lots of acid.
Right, right (laughs), and that's an
interesting point. As far as the drug thing
goes...I think that back in the late sixties many
pop musicians were searching for a way to get to
the divine spirit of music (not that hedonism
didn't play it's role). For a lot of those
people, there was a desire to channel, only they
wanted to get there quickly, and some drugs are
particularly good at breaking down the walls our
brains put up to protect us from that intense
divine power. I think that's one reason why some
of the music made back then, Hendrix, the Beatles, even Led Zeppelin, has such special
creative energy. Of course, the down side to that
method has been well documented. Hendrix took
copious amounts of drugs -- and he plugged in
-- but at great cost to his physical being. Maybe
there's a similar hunt going on here [in my
music]. [But] I'm not ready to go there. I'm
attempting to get at the same power through
meditation and yoga which may take a little more
time to master, but have the much more positive
pay off of personal evolution.
Email Gail Worley
Another True
Fiction is named one of the
best albums of 1999!
Peregrine
Soaring
Amy Schroeder talks to Tara Jane O'Neil
of Rodan, Retsin,
and The Sonora Pine about her
new album, Peregrine
Marcy Playground's Shapeshifter
"John Wozniak's taken up singing
through, I think, a submarine intercom
system," says Andrew Hamlin in this CD Review
Beck's Midnite
Vultures
"This tour de style has
enough hooks per minute to satisfy the staunchest
old school fanatic," says Tom
Fredrickson in this CD Review
Dolly Parton:
More Than Hair & Breasts
This country artist sang with
"anguish beyond rage, drawn not with the
crayon-wide strokes of a Drama Queen but with the
fine, slight lines that shape internal
battles," says Tim Midgett in $2.99 Wax
Necessities
The Rules Were
Broken Before We Were Born
Death Cab For Cutie's Ben Gibbard
reinvents rock with toys and broken instruments,
in this All-Time ĦQuarterback! CD Review by
Stephanie Pure
Mogwai's Back,
With EP&2
"How can mere human beings
make music this heavenly?" asks Reef
Valmont in this CD Review
Live,
The Distance to Here
"Ed
[Kowalcyzk] is like a pop star version of Jesus,
holding his audience in thrall, as they feel
compelled to compete for his affection,"
says Gail Worley in this CD Review
Nine Inch Nails' The
Fragile
The
new disc from Trent Reznor is "a glorious,
magnificent, life-affirming, soul-scorching,
wings-giving head-cleaning statement of art and
ambition," says Reef Valmont in this
in-depth CD Review
Billy Bragg's Reaching
To The Converted
The improbable beauty of Billy Bragg's
falsetto calls you to the Mojave phone booth, in
this CD Review by Andrew
Hamlin
|