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Joe
Walsh’s Outer Limits
Life’s been good to him so far, and Joe Walsh would be the first person to admit it. The only real problem he has is the music. The music, you ask—what music is that? Well it’s like this: Joe hears this radio in his head, and it never seems to stop. Hmmmmm….. Flashback: 1969 Oh, those days, those glorious, horrible, chaotic times. Joe Walsh was touring the East Coast in the James Gang. I was in another group that was the opening act on several of the shows. To call it a tour would be hyperbole at best. It was, as I said, the Sixties, just as the enchantment was wearing off and there was still a hint of idealism in the music itself. The “ballrooms”—they were actually Masonic temples, churches, and movie theaters—formed a loose chain of venues throughout the US, [particularly in the population centers and college towns. It was here, for generally little break, lots of stroke, and lids of smoke, that the bands labored. Many had that first piece of vinyl and were pushing hard to make the national charts. In those days, there seemed to be a lot less “biz.” Not that it was any more pleasant—it wasn’t. If you got a record deal, it was generally a nickel-and-dime affair by today’s standards. Most of today’s bargain-basement indie LPs cost more to record than Yer Album, the James Gang’s first major label release (on ABC Dunhil). The familiar story of the Police hopping around the country in a van, slugging their way to the top, was more or less the norm in the Sixties. That is exactly how you did it—even if you had a hit! Which, at the time, the James Gang didn’t. As I recall, Joe slept on the floor in the business office of the club we were both playing. Times were tight; so was the James Gang. At that point, as a guitarist myself, I was afflicted with a severe case of Anglomania. I didn’t want to hear about the Grateful Dead or any of the other meandering hippie bands. I wanted Beck, Clapton, Page—and I already had the Marshall stack and the proper haircut. Having lived and worked around Boston and New York, I had seen every British group to come across the pond; in the USA only the Allmans and (believe it or note) the J. Geils Band had anywhere near the same “magic” that those guys who talked funny had. In retrospect, there were plenty of players I was too stupid to appreciate—but what the hell; I was a foolish teenager. Walsh, on the other hand, was above it all. When I first saw him play at a sound-check, I was completely bowled over. He as quite simply the best American rock and roll guitarist I had seen up to that time. HE was meeting the British players on their own loud, proud turf. Walsh was playing as tough and as modern as any one of the Brits, and giving it something extra—something American. Walsh was born in Wichita, Kansas, but was raised in New York and New Jersey. He attended college at Kent State in Ohio, where his musical life began to gestate. It wasn’t long before young Joe dropped the façade of being a student and began playing full-time—indeed, at any time anyone would listen. And so it was that this half-assed student concluded that the radio playing in his head was there to stay, so he might as well figure out how to play along with it. In regard to Walsh’s playing style, what makes him most unique is his rhythm playing and a corresponding rhythmic approach to his compositions. This is not meant to denigrate his lead playing; on the contrary his solos have only been enhanced by his formidable and unique attack. Walsh’s recordings particularly the earlier ones show a foundation that was built upon listening to the R&B hits of his Ohio days as well as the Merseybeat sound. Maybe that’s the reason Joe was and is the equal of those particular players of that day—his influenced were the same. Witness the James Gang’s “Funk 48” in which Walsh pumped his guitar through a Marshall and used what—in anything other than a power-trio context—would be the horn parts. The kicker is, Joe made the part the main rhythmic and chordal section of the piece. This approach proved equally effective in the Eagles’ “Life in the Fast Lane,” where the line (or riff) in the song is a cross between a horn part and a hard-rock guitar. The other unique aspect to Walsh’s style is that he uses acoustic guitars in pretty much the same way: They generally wash the backgrounds, and they’re sometimes featured playing the tune’s head, as in “Life’s Been Good”—ample evidence of his Beatles/folk influences. Aside from Walsh’s abilities, profound as they are, what puts him above the crowd is his cockeyed sense of humor. There is only one Joe Walsh; he is a terribly funny and terrifically bright guy. There really isn’t an ounce of the smug, self-enamored bullshit attitude generally associated with his type of rocker. His healthy irreverence is blended with a cynical but completely optimistic outlook. He’s one of a kind. MC: I understand you just moved to Memphis. Why? WALSH: I went to Memphis—don’t know why—it just happened. It’s wonderful there; it always has been that way. It closed down to where what was going on was just interesting to Memphis, but the music scene didn’t die off—not like LA. The music scene in LA, I think, is approaching Death Valley. In Memphis, man, you can go and see two or three bands every night, young ones, good ones—and there is a minimal cover charge. There are no disc jockeys, there are no discos. MC: It’s touch being in a rock and roll band these days. WALSH: Memphis is jumping pretty good, and Boston, of course, always is—there are so many young people. MC: Sometimes I think people pay too much attention to “young people” in terms of rock and roll. WALSH: I’m starting to be “Uncle Joe” to young musicians—not “Grandpa Joe” yet, but “Uncle Joe.” There is a new generation of kids coming in that are not like me or you when we were their age, and they are so completely blitzed by merchandising and media and baloney. There are kids who don’t even know Paul McCartney was in the Beatles! They grew up with Wings—imagine how he feels. These kids haven’t found a true identity yet—that is why they are such suckers for idiots like Madonna. I think she has nothing to do with music—I think she is a Barbie doll designed for merchandising. I don’t think her band or her rod crew actually relate to her on a lifetime groove—a friendship relationship. What I really resent is, kids are looking for something to identify with, and she does a video in kinky lingerie, dry-humping a chair in a strip joint, and picks up a ten-year-old! I think that is irresponsible. There are girls nine to 16 who key in to everything she does—her fashion, her style. How would you like it if your ten-year-old daughter wanted fishnet stockings and kinky lingerie for Christmas because she had seen Madonna do it and figures that is cool? A ten-year-old kid? Now, that is irresponsible…but it sells—oh boy, does it sell. MC: What do you think of Prince and Purple Rain? WALSH: Possibly the worst movie ever—except for the one he did after that! Well, I dunno, when he gets his brains out of his underpants, he’s a great musician, whereas I think anybody could beat Madonna. How would you like to wake up next to Sean Penn? I’ll have to pass on that. He’s one of the few people who can handle her. Now, what happened to Duran Duran? Where are they? What happened to Men At Work? Where are they? What happened to Boy George? What happened to Leo Sayer? What happened to Sheena Easton? Where are all these people? They’re fads. I don’t know what you would call it—a market feasibility study of what is going to happen next. I mean, what happened to John Travolta since Urban Cowboy? That was it—everybody wore cowboy hats and rode that stupid bull in the bar—that was cool. But what about Saturday Night Fever? That was a whole lifestyle for a summer. People would actually stick hair onto their chests! It’s a lack of identity; it’s the changing of the guard between generations. There isn’t anybody who has actually taken over. I was big bands—the Dorseys, Frank Sinatra,; about ten years after that, Elvis; about ten years after that, the Beatles; ten years after that, what? Michael Jackson? He ain’t your PHD candidate, but her sold more albums than everybody else. MC: What about Bruce Springsteen—you don’t feel he’s that transitional person? WALSH: All I know is, he swore, in Rolling Stone he would never do a live album, and he puts out a five-record set at Christmas! The sonofabitch lied. What does he need—more money? I don’t dig that, man, when it’s so obvious. A five-record set so electronically enhanced it makes the Roxy sound like the coliseum—and they probably redid more stuff in the studio than we did with the Eagles live album! And he picks up a quick $30 million. Bruce still is valid—he’s a damn good guy. I met him once briefly. He treats his crew great, he treats his crew great, he treats his band great, he’s loyal. I like at least two songs off of every album he does. I hate to talk Bruce down, but he doesn’t need any more money. If he’s so concerned about the people in Ethiopia..they don’t have record players! “We are the World,” but they don’t have a record player! [The Eagles] stopped because we did it, we broke on through, we became bigger than life. I’ve always been proud of Henley and Frey for calling it when they did. I never understood why everyone is so excited about Bowie—every two years he’s somebody else. I met David through Ron Wood, and he’s a good guy—he’s not like that at all. But he doesn’t have a fucking clue who he is. Why can’t he just be David Bowie? Every time he changes his identity, a bunch of kids to do. What happened to the Village People? You know what happened? They tried to get paid! Metal—I don’t understand that either. I mean, what does that have to do with the real world? People are so into that. Turn it down! MC: The rock press would agree with you on that. WALSH: Nowadays you get murdered in record reviews: “He doesn’t have any concise, focused statement on this album.” I couldn’t believe that. I love reading record reviews. In fact, there is a guy named Jimmy Davis out of Memphis, and he’s going to be putting a record out in October, and IO was asked to review his record for Playboy. It’s the first record I ever reviewed, but I love reading record reviews. Who are these people who decide whether it’s two stars or three and a half? I especially hate Rolling Stone, ‘cause they hate me; they taught me to hate them. They don’t like anybody who has been together more than two weeks. The LA writers hate New York city and vice versa. I’m not bitter; but somebody missed the point if in their top 100 records of the last 20 years, there are the Sex Pistols and not the Eagles—they’re not even mentioned. MC: Henley was the guy who would always write back to the critics. WALSH: I know. I used to say, “Don, man, what are you doing?” they butchered him for it. Don used to get so upset, and they always got the last word. MC: Having been involved in one of the most expensive records ever made, don’t you think that they Eagles contributed to the bloated economy of the record business. WALSH:
Yeah, but you gotta realize, we
made a joke out of money. WALSH: Not really. Not when you think that the whole time we did The Long Run we were also touring. People were flying back to Florida to put parts on. We had to move our equipment. To move your equipment from LA to Miami is approximately $25,000, right? Why shouldn’t we”? We had the money. It was our money. We kept the whole crew on salary. We also had pension plans, healthy insurance, life insurance, automobile insurance for all our guys and everyone got their per diem. We always thought that when we worked hard on the tour, that was our money; so we charged it to the record company, because..why not? They didn’t care if we burped and farted for three minutes—they would put it out. All they cared about was reporting corporate profits for the quarter so they could pay for their lifestyles in Malibu and their Porches and shit. We’re talking about executives who hold major positions in the music business who are tone deaf! They didn’t give a fuck what we did. It’s units and profit. It’s a product to them; we like to call them songs. The real dirt is that the record company wanted The Long Run so bad they gave us financial incentives to just hurry up. We were touring like crazy and they said, “Just gradually work at it and we will pay part of the money.” I suppose we actually came in around $650,000. The album was right around a million to do, but the record company, motivated by greed, paid 35 percent of that, and 15 percent of it we paid. Let’s look at it this way: I get a check from the record company for a million dollars—let’s analyzed that. Eleven percent is California State income Tax—that’s $110,000 right there. Then there is Federal Income Tax and you’re up in the 47-48 percent bracket back then; California State is deductible from that, but let’s say 45 percent. Ten percent goes to management—off the top. Traveling expenses—everybody contributed out of their money, then put a portion of it back into the Eagles company so that when we did go off the road for three weeks, the road crew could eat and stuff because they had families. Booking agent: five percent. Insurance: incredible! Plus you pay your crew’s Social Security, Federal Withholding. We, the employers, have to put that aside. It’s tough. So you get a check for a million dollars, but by the time you get down to it, it’s only $380,000 at best. I take $80,000 from there. Just getting to LAX and getting home from LAX and stage clothes, and you see a Stratocaster you got to have, and this and that. Not to mention bad habits. So a check for one million is not a million dollars. It cots a lot of money to be rich and you get used to that lifestyle. MC: A while back there was talk of an Eagles reunion. WALSH: We got offered a lot of money to get back together for the US Festival. We got offered $1.2 million, but we didn’t want to be motivated by greed—plus it wasn’t enough! (Laughs) MC: You had your solo career really rolling at the time you joined the Eagles. WALSH: So what? MC: Well now you’re out of the Eagles; that’s an odd way to pursue a career. What did you come out of it with? WALSH: Peace of mind; the respect of my peer group. I am at peace with myself, I am very happy. I am not in a position like Madonna or Bruce or Bowie. Every time I start to really get into something, I always run away. It has nothing to do with the music. The worst thing that can happen is that you get material benefits during your lifetime that shut down the creative process. I’ve been rich a couple of times. It’s addicting. MC: But it doesn’t always mean happiness. WALSH: Oh no…it’s horrible. I got into it. I got into it and was so glad when these huge royalty checks came in. But I find myself kind of like being intrigued almost to the point of being possessed by it. Because you get your statement, you see how much you’ve made, you are really proud of yourself, and there are always investments that you have to make decisions on. And then, if your net worth goes down, it freaks you out. Then your accountant tells you that you have to make a half-million dollars next year just to pay for everything that you bought and you haven’t paid for yet, and you don’t even want that shit. You don’t know why you have a house in Vail—you never go over there. You don’t know why you have a sailboat—you haven’t seen it in months and you you’re too busy to go sailing, and you have to pay some idiot to paint and scrape it all the time. Then you figure, Oh God—I have to make a half-million dollars next year before I make penny one, right? You get obsessed with it. One of Walsh’s Laws of Rock and Roll is: You can’t write songs in the office. If you’re too busy putting new speakers in your BMW to practice, dig it and shit it down. It’s a painful process. Some people it destroys. Mick Fleetwood doesn’t have a penny—bankruptcy. A lot of rock stars hit that crisis. “Earth to rock star.” I shut it down to where I check with the people, with my business manager: “Am I too extravagant?” AND when I am, I stop doing stuff. I don’t even know how much money I have. I don’t know if I am rich or not. I trust the people that oversee it. Are my people being paid fairly and regularly? Yes. Do I have enough money to continue making my music and not worry that I have enough money? Yes I say, fine. MC: Did shutting down help your music? WALSH: No. I don’t think anything but fucking miserable, bad-karma, negative songs could be written from being on top of the world and having your empire fold up. Maybe Cat Stevens could write something very deep about it, or Bernie Taupin. It was a painful process. That’s what The Confessor is all about. The Confessor wasn’t a funny dialogue. Everybody went, “Oh, Joe you are so funny with your Maserati and your chainsaw.” “I don’t feel like being fucking funny right now, and I can not be the court jester for just one album, y’know?” I was getting divorced. Fucking domestic scene dries up bad—women can’t stand that there is something more important that them. They can’t stand it that every time I have a big hit record, I have to get busy and go on the road. I am in charge of five, six, seven guys; I am a capitalist, but I am an honest one. Women can’t stand it, especially when you are married, especially when they’re pregnant or they’ve just had a kid. “Tell me you love me.” “Okay, I love you.” “More than anything?” And for years I would say “Of course, more than anything.” And one day I said, “No—I love my music first, and you are second.” I told the truth. “I am on this planet to make music. You knew that when we got married, I haven’t changed a bit. I met you at some place where you came to see me play, and now you want me to tell you that you are more important that that? I’m sorry, but I cannot lie, so here is the truth: I don’t love you more than anything. I love me first; second, I am on the planet to make music and I have to love it—I have no choice. I hear it every minute I am awake. You a re third. Actually, you are fourth—the kid is third.” They can’t stand that. Why do they have to ask? Why can’t they just be happy and like to raise kids and tiptoe through the daisies? They just got to know that you love them more than anything. And that is another thing that makes paranoia about money. MC: You’ve made it quite clear that playing music is your life. WALSH: When I really feel like it –and It’s at the strangest times, three in the morning, anytime—I’ll just get my guitar and go find a place that’s quiet and play, because I really want to. The music tells me: “Joe, we want to fuck with you. We are songs that aren’t written yet.” And I will go play and I will play for hours and hours.
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