Although Don Fleming had his hand in many pies and was a masterful dude at the knobs, but I thought Gumball were mediocre. In retrospect they were killer. At the time I had their records and I dug it, just a little. Anyway maybe I was envious he had a Gumball T-shirt? I think I approached him and said ‘Gumball huh? A bit so-so, mate.’ Josh was aloof and none too quick to make a new friend, I remember that. Nor was I at the time. After awhile we warmed up to each other, I think—just smoking a joint together. We both realized that, ‘Um, yeah—you’re a cool one’ so the connection was quick on that particular occasion. We met in passing some half a dozen times. You know I’m never one to make an overture of how are you and shake a hand. So both of us being standoffish we didn’t connect initially. We had the same interests—he figured I was alright and I knew he was alright. We started spending a lot of time together, getting stoned in the Space Shed. Me crashing out there, him getting me donuts in the morning. He was a subdued powerful cat and he could exude that without saying anything. One of the most quietest dudes ever. What better American bands were you digging at the time that would inspire such an elitist comment against Gumball? Well, you have to go back further ... not the group. Being immersed in neo 60s vibes and neo 60s cool. You get shot out of punk rock as a pre-pubescent, so the early 80s was all about 60s cool. Being a 60s punk rocker, not some hardcore dickhead slamming away. I thought there was no style to it—still feel that way. These were the ugly-sounding groups who were just copying Pebbles’ sounds, really. So I loved that and I loved what was going on locally in Southern California. We had the Rain Parade, the Things, the Eyes of Mind ... a lot of the first punks in southern California during the late 70s, who were all about the Dils and the Plugz. They embraced power pop because so much of that was coming out of the UK in way of the Jolt, the Chords, the Circles and Squire. So you know they wanted to try something new. I preferred power pop because it wasn’t as ugly but it had balls. I loved the Germs and The Plugz for it’s severity and angst— but that was like 5th grade. I’m all about the 7th grade, man. The 7th grade is about Squire, it’s about the Chords, it had punch but was really mellifluous. Sweet dreams about chicks. What about re-appropriating the Walker Brothers back cover art for yours? Did any of the music appeal or just the image? I never cared for the Walker Brothers though they looked amazing. Gary was a hero of mine. Scott of course had this huge success as a solo artist and the other cat put out somethings. The only cat who really smoked was Gary in my view. He was called the ugly one … he wasn’t ugly but maybe compared to those two beautiful adonises, maybe he was. His music wasn’t ugly. He was into experimental beat and acid-inflected pop music. He was really into skying, panning and trippier grooves. 36
I always thought the Walker Brothers were really square and still do. Lush pop ballads not for me, in that sort of Leonard Cohen thing that Scott Walker enjoyed. Not for me. I snort cocaine, drop a lot of acid. I’m not a very sophisticated dude ... so lush pop ballads are not my trip, right. Pop music is my thing—the more experimental and the trippier the better. You’re not gonna turn on to the Walker Brothers if that’s your bag. I mean, come on. ‘Magazine Women’ that’s nuts. ‘Market Tavern,’ some of it’s mediocre. You know what turned me on to ‘Magazine Women’? It was a comp. Sandoz Lime covered it, circa 88 or 89. That really took me places—they were from New York or something, maybe Pennsylvania, and had really good taste. They covered ‘Help Me Mommy’s Gone’ by the Game and a tune by the Attack. And this was pretty far out stuff. It was almost impossible to get your hands on these originals at the time. I believe I found a reissue of Gary Walker and the Rain at Midnite Records in New York City. They would send stuff C.O.D.—I had that arrangement with them. They loved me cuz I was always quick to offer my bread. I happened to be in New York to party my brains out and the rest for a few weeks actually. Was this the time you were partying with [Unrest’s] Bridget Cross? She was killer! No, I used to visit her in D.C. Think I needed a little adventure so I went to New York City with this cat Mike Fellows. He was in a group called Rites of Spring. I didn’t know anything about his music but we were quick friends. He had a brother—not biological but in spirit—who lived in Greenwich Village that was out of town. So Mike said, ‘Hey man, let’s split D.C.—let’s get up there!’ It was snowing and one of the worst winters ever, apparently. We somehow made it in a Honda Civic with bald tires, skidding, sliding our way to New York City. He was the consummate driver—really such driving prowess. He should have been a professional race car driver. What was you impression of New York in the early-mid 90’s? How did it compare to the West Coast back then? That’s about the right time. I went to vegetarian restaurants and enjoyed vegetarian cuisine. Then I’d go to some nightclub. There were like all these hip-hop chicks and they’d go ‘Oh, you’re so cute! Oh, I just love your hair, you’re like The Monkees.’ I’d score one, I’d get laid. I’d walk to NYU and there’s some babe there saying, ‘Oh wow, it’s the Monkees.’ ‘You ever heard “Porpoise Song?” Oh no? I’ll sing it to you later if you like.’ So we’d go back to her dorm room or whatever ... I was just slutting around. I didn’t see any 60s freaks or anything like that. I’m strutting around in my flipping low slung hip-huggers with my Cuban-heeled boots, a fur-lined cropped suede coat with this huge belt buckle screaming city mod chic circa 67-68 in the early 90s. People would stare at me thinking, ‘Wow, who is he? Is he retarded? The 60s are over, man—who is that? What’s that thing? What’s he doing?
Hold it—it’s not Halloween, it’s February.’ I was just there to groove around. So not much musical inspiration on the East Coast. Were there any Southern California scenes that turned you on in your youth? There was obviously the Paisley Underground happening at the time. Well around 87-88 there was nothing to pick up in the neighborhood in terms of neo-60s cool. There was some Mod-ies scootering around. Wearing flipping turtlenecks and parkas on a 85 degree day. I was pretty young but I remember the end of some mod club in Costa Mesa. There was one called the Bullet, which I liked. That later morphed into the Cavern, that was cool. Then was a place called the Batcave in Long Beach later on. I liked the Jets, the Question, the Patterns and the Turnstiles down in San Diego—they had their own little club. The Zoo Club. Did you identify with any of these scenes in particular or was there a place where you considered yourself a regular? I didn’t have a scene, man. I was desperately trying to break from this idea of cool or whatever. I had my beach life and digging beach chicks as you do. Taking LSD in my bedroom alone—by the fistful. Sticking my head in very loud speakers ... I couldn’t quite extricate myself from music, as much as I tried. I was playing tennis again and just being a beach bum. I didn’t even actually give it much thought apart from, ‘Beach life is what I know. This is my world.’ I’d get away from music because … you know, it’s just a head job. But man … I loved it. I love that head job. It was beautiful. I couldn’t stay away from it for anymore than a month at a time. When I dropped a lot of acid I was always drawn to the stylus, setting it just so. I got kicked out many a pads. For ‘head in speakers’ too loud? Yeah! ‘Get headphones!’ I’d have chicks over say, ‘I wanna sleep now.’ Ha ha! ‘Well, then you have to split or learn to sleep with this music bludgeoning your brains.’ That was my rule! [laughing] Too true ... I really blew it many times! ‘You were great and that was really fun but you’re sticking your head in the speakers and the music is driving me nuts!’ ‘Well, you gotta go then—learn to sleep with the music or split!’ So I liked The Close Lobsters ... Scottish group, good pop music. Dinosaur, of course ... this was ‘87 or so. I loved the second Lemonheads record Creator. It’s their only one I ever really enjoyed. Where did you discover this music? Poobah’s in Pasadena, Rhino in Claremont when it was cool. I’d mail order from BOMP! Suzy was sweet. We had an arrangement as well—I didn’t have to pay her for like a week. It’s kinda like, ‘I’m a little excited this week ... I’ll take twelve albums and a couple of singles, $300 later.’ She was so sweet to me. I’d say, ‘So Suzy—the next time I call may I sing “Psychedelic Suzy” to you by the Seeing Eye Gods?’ She’d say, ‘Oh, no—please don’t do that, Rex. Please do not.’ I’d say, ‘You must have been something, they wrote this song’ ... I don’t know if you remember this group.
Yeah, that was a side project. It was a paisley printed picture disc... That’s right—a picture disc. They do a cover of ‘Pictures of Matchstick Men’ by the Status Quo, is that right? So the track ‘Psychedelic Suzy’ was about Suzy. Suzy, by the way, was not a psychedelic chick. She may have been in the 60s. By the time I met her she’d always say, ‘I’ve out grown all that stuff. You really shouldn’t do that to yourself. You’ll never come back one of these days.’ She was always trying to dissuade me from enjoying my acid trips. ‘Oh Rex, you’re crazy, I tell you. You really shouldn’t do it any more, it will leave you to ruin.’ Getting back to the music of the Summer Hits and the weekends recording the initial 45s—what was that process actually like? What would happen was … there was some cat in France or Tokyo and he’s got enough money to put out the release. I didn’t even have a phone at the time. Darren would ask if I had some material and say, ‘Hey, man, we should meet this Saturday to do this thing’ cuz there’s this cat in England or somewhere who wants a single. ‘Oh, yeah, man. Sure, I got material.’ Not at all! Ha! But heck—it’s Tuesday or Wednesday, or whatever. So what I’d do … I’d come up with a bassline I’d dug. The vocal would come easy enough. I’d jot down some lyrics. Then we’d meet at ... by the way I christened it the Space Shed cuz we were always spaced! We were so fucking stoned it was ridiculous, you know. It wasn’t even a garage—it was a shed. The place was so stinking hot, sweaty and tiny. We’re all snuggly in there on a 95 degree day. So I started calling it the Space Shed cuz you know once you’re in there a couple hours, man … you’re flipping spaced out! So I’d chill out with my riff and my vocal. The other two would just come up with their own parts. Which I can’t ever remember not liking too much. I mean … shoot, I don’t play drums or can’t play guitar worth a damn. By the third pass they’d have their own parts down. I thought, ‘Yeah, that sounds sweet.’ And by the fourth pass Josh would press record. They are basically just live. Live and first take. Vocals as well? No—it was so loud in there and we had a shitty four-track or eight-track whatever it was. You couldn’t hear the vocal when we played live. I couldn’t sing without playing so I would sing. You could never hear the vocal cuz we’d crank it up like you wouldn’t believe—deafening. So I would hear the backing track and then do the vocal even still playing but unplugged—ha ha! Is that silly? Hey man—whatever works. Yeah! There wasn’t a lot of layering or over production. It was a live job. So those guys would never lay down an extra track or so? No, they were both too interested in seeing their chicks afterwards. I wanted to split too—I had some beer to drink, some acid to take and maybe a chick to find. We were just too damn lazy to do a whole lot of work. I remember recording three cuts INTERVIEW