PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST:
Shelly Harris
travels to Chung Fow for a sketch of
John Waite
"...And these new days drag on
Through the long afternoon
I'm smashed and Flintstones are on TV
And I'm looking for something
that's real in my life--something true--yeah!
And I'm looking for something to hold on to
But I guess it won't be you.....
This song is not for you---
From "Thinking About You," from John Waite's just released solo album,
"Figure in a Landscape."
"It only took ten minutes to write that one!" enthuses the mercurial John
Waite, erstwhile rock vocalist/frontman extraordinaire, when asked about "Thinking About You," the
head swiveling and ultra-contemporary mid-tempo rock tune off his latest, recently released solo album,
"Figure in a Landscape."
Certainly, that song, above all the other effervescent and atmospheric
potential hits on the record (and there are many) most definitely should turn a new generation on to the distinctive, often
compelling talents of this enduring Lancaster (England) native who more recently has shone even
more brightly in the role of "confessional" singer/songwriter.
Although, at 49, he has been living - with varying degrees of
intensity - in the rock'n'roll limelight his entire adult life, as we sit chatting
in the Oriental ambiance surrounding our booth at Chung Fow - an "abandoned Chinese restaurant" in a far flung Chicago
suburb - so open, unpretentious, and seemingly ... familiar ... is Waite, that the repartee is effortless.
Still, I can't help but be taken aback at his uncanny knack for
completing many of my questions and comments with dead-on accuracy. Like when I tell him that "Thinking About You," gets my vote
for strongest cut on the album, and - even before I can spit the thought out
myself - he chimes in, "I actually mention the Flintstones in that one!" Yes, yes! John
... And that's really a great little slice of modern life, a concise snapshot of
what it's actually like... "Being drunk in the afternoon?" he offers with a grin. "Opening that third beer and the Flintstones were
on ... ?" Well, yes! Exactly ... (but make that a bit of Chardonnay if it's me).
But it also becomes obvious that such Amazing Kreskin-like conversational
abilities are really part and parcel of Waite's highly attuned sensibilities in general, not to mention his incisive and literate
mind. In fact, it is precisely such keen perception which enables him to so adeptly capture the
idiosyncrasies of the small joys and/or the moments of "quiet desperation" (that so often weave in
and out of everyday life) in poignant lyrical freeze frames.
And, with "Figure in a Landscape" (a guitar-driven, lyrically and
melodically powerful, must-have chunk of soul food in the vein of Henley's
"End of the Innocence"), Waite has further refined his renown, "tell it like it is" simple
eloquence, especially when examining such modern life vulnerabilities as alienation, a search for deeper meaning in life, reckoning with all manner of
disillusionment, and, of course, both romantic devastation - and hope.
Oh, did I forget frustration? Though he has experienced his fair share of
career highs, including the classic rock ballad (and international chart-topper) "Missing You," as well as numerous other
major commercial hits like "Change," "When I See You Smile," and "Back On My Feet Again," that
emotion, especially with reference to his career "blue highway," is something Waite himself has
been all-too familiar with in the latter part of the '90s. During that period he found two of his best-ever
albums (from an artistic, singer/songwriter perspective), the stark and utterly self-revelatory
"Temple Bar" and the roots flavored, storytelling "When You Were Mine," basically frozen
in their tracks due to major label business troubles and/or priorities that coincided with their respective
releases.
But Waite, by turns deeply reflective and lightheartedly witty this late
summer evening, is also one not to take anything about himself too seriously. "Disillusioned?! Me, disillusioned?" he quips when
you get him going on his current attitude towards the mega-corporation/big-label music business
BS he's witnessed firsthand during his 25 year career that first began in the US
with The Babys, extended through his solo heyday in the '80s, and then on past his stint with Bad English.
For a start, though he seems to shrug it off, he also notes "they don't
pay me for those" when I mention certain past albums that are now released as
two-fer type CD compilations by one of his former record companies. (Gasp! That justifies the uneasy gut feeling I had when I bought one of
those babys at Borders a year or so back!) No wonder, then, that Waite seems absolutely
adamant about one thing: "I've no tolerance at all for being dominated by some corporate
entity - none whatsoever." Conversely, he says that he and his new
"indie" label, Gold Circle, "were really kind of meant for each other,"
and he enthuses that since one of his "dearest friends in the world," Rob
Dillman, was recently made head of the company, "it's kind of like Christmas!"
Moreover, somewhere in between bites of sweet and sour shrimp and sips of
ginger ale, Waite does give off an overarching vibe that he's come to terms with most of his past disappointments,
whether concerning his personal life (often laid bare in his lyrics) or his career. This is partly a result
of his ongoing search for a deeper truth and meaning in life in general - a quest which touches the
core of all of his songs - and one that led him to further develop and study his longtime interest in
Zen.
Part of that philosophy is the age old (but too often forgotten) axiom
that when you have everything materially, you really have nothing, and when you seem to have nothing, you may
already have everything that really matters. And that mindset, in particular, is often subtly or overtly
referenced in much of his work (especially in the double-entendre'd "Godhead," an absolutely
scorching, full-on blues/rock number on the current album), but you can also infer its impact on his
view of the world relating to many other worthwhile life subjects.
For a start, though he still elegantly looks the part, Waite's attitude since at least the late '80s has
been ultra anti-rockstar (in fact, his artistic integrity and aversion to "arena rock" led to the demise of
"supergroup" Bad English just as it was creating major commercial waves). In
actuality, he still thinks of himself as an underground artist ("I never really went mainstream") and he confesses that
he has "always been very, very uncomfortable with very successful, nouveau rich
people - just the bullshit of it, you know?"
Underscoring this intrinsic rebel/anti-establishment/anti-materialistic
nature, he adds, "Honestly, even with the early Babys, I never wanted to make a billion dollars and give it away to the waiter. I
can't understand that crap! I'm from a working class family ... So, when I was down on my luck,
running out of money and stuff, the world was almost a better place for me, because I knew what I
was dealing with, you know? I wasn't like somebody who had a million dollars and lost
it - I never had a million dollars. So, fine for me, really. It made me spiritually
aware ... It opened up doors for me spiritually, where I really did start to examine Zen Buddhism and stuff. I
started to do some in depth study - reading and going to lectures. I travel with a book at the moment. It's fantastic stuff!
It gives you a sense of value when you live in this society ..."
And a sense of not feeling so ... empty, I wonder aloud. "Yeah...Yeah!
Absolutely!" Waite affirms. Hmmm ... Certainly, this couldn't be a bad thing at all for a guy who once lived an admittedly "edgy"
lifestyle, as depicted with a compelling, darkly poetic realism on the Temple Bar album, or for a
guy whose search for less alienation and "More" of anything authentic - anything
real - has also been a dominant lyrical theme. After all, whatever its benefits, that artistic angst should only have to go so
far ...
Not surprisingly, Waite does allow that his life is "very" different
kind of experience these days: "I don't even drink! Everything's in focus now, so it's a lot more fun. And I can remember what I did
when I wake up in the morning; I'm not sort of like ... with a hangover. It got to the
point, honestly, where - and I wouldn't mind being - Well, I was married for a long time, and I'm divorced now, right?
And at some point I just saw myself clearly as some guy who was just on his way to being drunk, or
with a hangover ... And who could fall in love with that? And at some point I was
pretty truthful. I looked in the mirror - I must have been shaving one morning
- and going, 'How the Hell did I get here?!' You know? And the only way I knew was to just stop drinking. So, I stopped."
And that clean living flatters him in other respects, too. First off, his immediately recognizable vocal purity, dexterity, and interpretive phrasing - evident on the soulful ballads as well as on the wailing, bluesy rockers - has never been more stunning, as could be witnessed not only on the current album, but also during the solo-date set he played previously in the evening at an outdoor festival. Moreover, despite his oft-austere press photos, there's a certain vitality to him that is even more evident offstage.
In a nutshell, with that aura of perpetual innocence and sprite-like
enthusiasm whirling around him, Waite continually evokes a disarming and ageless Peter Pan. Still, when I truthfully blurt out that
he's looking great - looking healthy, and still ... well ... youthful, Mr. John Waite, for better or worse
often terminally perceived as major female "heartthrob" material since his Babys
era, still momentarily startles and blushes. But, seeing a great segue to talk about his new band (all first-rate
musicians who have chemistry onstage as well as an au currant energy and visual appeal), he
recovers quickly enough to say, "Well, thank you! Well, my band's nice and young. I mean I
try to play with musicians who are fiery. And they're a great band, you know? It's funny! We really enjoy
playing!"
No, this is not exactly the same hotheaded (but already charismatic)
John Waite I first saw in the late '70s at the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago while he was fronting The Babys in the middle of a
mismatched bill with (what he calls) "full-on country and western, southern rock" bands Molly
Hatchet and 38 Special. (Recalling that show, he laughs now, "Oh, God! I threatened
to fight the audience! Yeah, I did!")
But, judging from his other comments, Waite (a former art student who,
over the years, has also been known to draw caricatures of himself when signing autographs) still might be the same guy in
some respects that he was when he painted yet another fearless, introspective self-portrait with the
new album's final cut, "Masterpiece of Loneliness."
That song, which spawned the album's title in its lyrics, was actually
written several years back for the "When You Were Mine" album, but, as John
explains, "I just couldn't get the keyboard player to play it the right way. And this time around, I had the same keyboard player, and he got it right!
And I also had Shane [Fontayne] for the six string bass, which I didn't really think of last time
'round. And that gives it that kind of country, dark edge. It gave it ambiance, it gave it a room sound, like a
sadness ... I can't listen to that, you know. It is the one song I've written that
really upsets me; everything else I can just go "Yeah!" But that one is
too ... it's too ... it's too me."
Although these days some of his work now displays a more upbeat sense of
acceptance, redemption, closure, and renewed hope ("Always Be Your Man," "Touch," "New York City Girl,"
"New Thing"), cut-to-the-bone songs like "Masterpiece of Loneliness" and "Thinking About You"
are the kind of utterly beautiful, "sweet sorrow" vignettes that may still hit the most universal
cord - especially for many of us who don't have the wherewithal - not to mention the
guts - to express it so personally or poetically ourselves. But then artistic
courage - whatever the consequences - is something Waite has never been short on.
For example, as Waite himself recounts, "When I left Bad English, I was
absolutely determined that I wouldn't just cop out and be a rocker. Because it is a cop out. I mean, everyone sounds the same
at a certain level; they're desperately trying to play the same lick. So, I moved back to my
roots, which were blues and country, but I tried to do it with a New York consciousness. Nobody's gonna
take me seriously making a country record. I'm English. But I tried to make Temple
Bar like [Bob Dylan's] Blonde On Blonde, but the John Waite Blonde on Blonde. The way I was living, there was
no other way to go. I mean, it's so personal. And, it was a huge departure from what people
expected, and yet it was me a thousand percent. And, even though it suffered a pretty miserable fate
[the label went bankrupt after the album was released], when I got to the Mercury record [When You
Were Mine], I was still feisty, and strong, and clear, and I wanted to really
... I mean that is an unbelievable record too. That was something to write! It was
real - I don't want to say poetry - but it's a real sense of using the language without having to
use - big words, you know?"
And many would say that the rare and commendable risk-taking that he lets
loose in his songwriting also extends to his career perseverance and resilience, especially in light of the more
recent let downs, but Waite eschews that idea. He looks at it this way: "Being an artist, a writer, or
whatever - there's no choice in what you do. You might go and get a job parking cars or whatever,
but in the back of your mind, you'll always be writing songs or writing words down. You have no
choice in it! People always say to me, 'How the Hell did you hang in after all of that?! God bless
you!' like I've done something marvelous. But, it's like, 'Thanks for the compliment, but there's no
choice!'"
In any event, he's much more "clear about the choices" in all respects
these days: "I've been run over a few times, but you just can't let the world come at you without dodging or moving or ducking,
or whatever ... or you will get run over. It's a very Zen thing, isn't it? Like Zen and Judo. It's how
you move through these things, and you can coexist with these things, and they don't
affect you. And you can't let it get you angry. People are people, and they're all wonderful things. They're all
separate, and they're all different."
But one of the fortune cookies laying on the table may tell the real tale
here. "What does it say?" he wants to know, as I crack it open and scan the message.
Hmmm. "Don't Let Doubt And Suspicion Bar Your Progress." Of course, the relevance of its meaning isn't lost on John, who raises an
eyebrow and remarks earnestly, "Oh! Now that's really a good one."
And it might also be inferred that Waite practices what he preaches about
a fundamental respect for life in general. (Not that I'm the judge and jury, but Waite had already passed the musician's
numero uno litmus test for character when I observed his personal, affectionate touch in interacting
with his ardent, long-standing core fan base earlier in the evening.) But then you might expect that
from a guy who makes sure you remember to bring some of his shrimp home to treat your cat, and
one who goes around to each of the Chung Fow wait-staff to thank them "very, very much for the
service" individually.
But most insightful of all - and maybe it's part of the good Karma in the
air concerning the new album and forthcoming solo tour - is that, whether up or down, for Waite things such as career and
other life stuff authentically seem to be much more about the adventure and the journey, than about
the ultimate destination.
"I've been the long way around," he reckons, "but I feel very justified in
my career, and I'm just thrilled to be working, you know? It's just a wonderful thing! You know, the times that I've had that
were at the very, very top - with everything going right - were good fun, but also the opposite
of those times have been just as much fun - it truly has! I've enjoyed it enormously. It's almost better to
take the long way around ... I mean, I'm the kind of guy who would join the Merchant Marine. Have
you ever read Conrad? Lord Jim?"
Well, yes! And Heart of Darkness, too ...
"Heart of Darkness. Exactly! But, I have that spirit in me that would
probably just like to set off right to the South Seas and have a look! Oh, and explore the China coast or something like
that ..."
Well, Waite as the perpetual, curious wanderer isn't exactly a shocking
concept when you consider some of his lyrics, and the fact that after 15 years of living in and around New York City,
he's spent the last three years either "living out of a suitcase" or in "a rented house with rented
furniture." Just this August he's finally made a commitment of sorts to stay in Santa Monica (home
base of his record label) long enough to buy a 2000 square foot "loft" type abode, have all his "stuff"
sent from NY, and finally aquatint himself with modern gadgets like a computer. (Right now, he
admits, "I don't even know how to switch one on," and claims he still "can't really
work" the tape recorder that tour manager Jeff Van Duyn recently bought him for songwriting, either.)
Yet even California sounds iffy when he adds, "The music business is
there ... but I much prefer New York, or Seattle, or something that's more like a city, and LA's so spread out. And the people
there are all famous, so it's kind of pointless, you know. I mean, I absolutely do not fit into that city!
I just really don't like the sunshine all the time; I like the seasons and stuff." (No surprise, as he often
uses artfully placed seasonal references in his songs, too.)
In fact, beyond the immediate and optimistic future with this new album,
you do get the distinct feeling that even John Waite can't predict what he'll do next himself, either artistically or
geographically. On one hand he says if he ever walks away from the music business, he "fully
intends to retire" back home in England where his immediate family still lives. But, on the
other hand, he muses, "I've spent so much time in America now, maybe I'll head to
Tennessee ... It's got snow and stuff, doesn't it ...?"
Well, yes, John, it does ... But, you know, there's still the
Congo ... and don't forget that China Sea out there...
Find out more about John Waite at http://www.johnwaite.com/
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