EASE DOWN THE ROAD

EARLY DAZE WITH EEF 

My first official bar outing was spent in my hometown, watching two bands I loved at the time who have since proven to be two of my favorites of the current decade. It was 2001, and both Ben Folds and Clem Snide had released great new studio albums titled Rockin’ the Suburbs and The Ghost of Fashion, respectively. Working at a record store at the time, we listened to Clem’s Ghost a couple times each shift, most of us celebrating it like it was the best thing we’d heard since, you know, Summerteeth or whatever. Unlike most Americans, I don’t remember too much else about that history-changing year. I remember it was a rocky, transitional year for me personally, but one that sounded better than just about any I can now remember. Also unlike most Americans, I left that year completely behind me, rarely revisiting much of anything that reminds me of my personal struggles from that time, music included. Soon enough I had a new Clem Snide album, 2003’s Soft Spot, and then another, 2005’s End of Love. Both just happened to be released, again, as things were turning bad for me. Musical happenstance. I loved both albums (especially the great, great, great End of Love) but, superstitious dweeb that I am, couldn’t help but note the recurring doom that struck with the songs – at least for me. 

Clearly, I made it through 2003, 2005 and the years since and in between. I lived through Clem frontman Eef Barzelay’s first solo album, Bitter Honey, released in 2006, and have as of late even spent much time revisiting Ghost in preparation for Barzelay’s sophomore solo album, Lose Big. Soon enough news came that Barzelay had gone ahead and released his new album over a month early through iTunes. I sat still for a moment, waiting for my tendons to snap or an ulcer to form in my thigh, ass or neck. Nothing. Not even the onset of a migraine or one of those rare hiccup-belch tandems we all have to own up to from time to time. Knowing that I’d still buy the real deal on it’s proper June 17 release date, I – at about 2 a.m., mind you – hit the “download” button, waited about five minutes, then played Lose Big front to back three times in a row. The next morning I woke up, went to work and listened to the album for most of the day on my headphones, taking in Barzelay’s amazing voice and clever, thoughtful words like they belonged to an old friend. Within 48 hours Barzelay himself had agreed to give me 20 minutes or so for an interview. “Sure,” he said, “just let me know when – I’m around.” Time to confront my ever-dooming hero.

The day before the interview I studied and studied – not so much learning anything new as I was refreshing my stuffed internal database o’ bands. Known for being a bit of a cynical smartass, I worried, too, about how he would reply to my inquiries. (Having one of your heroes hand you your ass is never a good thing for the psyche.) Mostly, I listened, remembering all the reasons why I considered this songwriter of great depth to be one of the best of his time. “Don’t Be Afraid of Your Anger.” “Weird.” “I Love the Unknown.” “Ice Cube.” “All Green.” “Mike Kalinsky.” “Jews for Jesus Blues.” “Fill Me With Your Light.” “Nick Drake Tape.” “Action.” “Forever, Now and Then.” You get it. The songs – some funny and all full of a world-weary subtext – hold up as well as any other work this decade. Barzelay’s voice and the band’s arrangements sound as good as ever to me. It took some mental laps, but I was ready for anything Barzelay wanted to throw my way. 

And so we talked. We talked about a strange place called Nashville. We talked about the demise of the Clem Snide brand and collaborative concept. We talked about Barzelay’s friendship with that other wise ass, Ben Folds. We talked about the music industry, scoring films, humor in music and another album Barzelay is sitting on called Hungry Bird. One would suspect – at least by the way Barzelay talks about the album – that the long labored Hungry Bird might be Barzelay’s best work yet. “The record is finished,” he assured me with confidence. “I hope to have it out someday soon.” 

Barzelay also talked about his new record label, 429 Records, losing big, his former bandmates, squeaking by in life – financially speaking – as an indie-rock artist, his similarities to Ted Kaczynski and, most interestingly, how he wrote the majority of Lose Big over a four-day period, recorded it in less than a week with “some of Ben Folds’ people,” then sat on it for two years. We talked (at least in my head) like old friends, Barzelay smoking and snacking along the way, me shaking and shivering with excitement and nervousness, knowing that at any second the guy might either make fun of me without my knowing or say something perfect enough to quote for the rest of my life. He did both things.

All in all, Barzelay offered up about an hour or so of his time, lots of laughs, a nice collection of wisely placed swear words and a generous amount of info on just about everything I dared to ask him about. He was as smart as he looks and writes and even funnier than his always memorable stage banter would imply. More than anything, he was generous with his time and answers, an attribute not often found in artists at Barzelay’s level of achievement. 

Those interested in reading the complete transcript of the interview can head over to www.whatzup.com. Once on the ‘zup homepage click on the Ease Down the Road link on the left side of the page; next click on the “Interviews” link on the Ease homepage and there you’ll have it, words from the man responsible for one of the best catalogs of the decade. Don’t forget to pick up the latest edition to Barzelay’s great catalog, Lose Big, when it hits record store shelves on June 17. 

Current seven-disc rotation: Eef Barzelay’s Lose Big; Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy’s Lie Down in the Light; Portishead’s Third; Old 97’s Blame It On Gravity; Lee Miles’ Heathen Blux; No Age’s Nouns; Mount Eerie’s Black Wooden Ceiling Opening 

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