Joe Boyd Interview

I just stumbled upon a really enjoyable interview in the Pitchfork archives with a guy named Joe Boyd. I knew Boyd mostly as "the guy who produced Nick Drake," and also as "the guy that R.E.M. got to produce Fables of the Reconstruction because he'd produced Nick Drake." But it turns out he actually did a lot more than that. According to Pitchfork:

"In his 40-year career as a manager, promoter, organizer, errand boy, executive, and hanger-on, Boyd has produced Eric Clapton, Pink Floyd, Nick Drake, Fairport Convention, Sandy Denny, Nico, the Incredible String Band, Vashti Bunyan, Fotheringay, R.E.M., and 10,000 Maniacs. He also toured with Sister Rosetta Tharpe and Rev. Gary Davis and was backstage during Bob Dylan's fateful electric performance at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965. Before there was an ABBA, Boyd hung out with Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus. He also worked with Eric Weissberg on the Deliverance soundtrack; hung out with Marty Scorsese; went through Scientology classes with film producer Don Simpson (as a lark); oversaw the first, only, and legendarily unreleasable Jimi Hendrix documentary; and played fetch with Man Ray, William Wegman's famous weimaraner."

In short, the guy probably has a pretty interesting perspective on the rock era and reading this interview makes me actually want to read his whole book. It also doesn't hurt that he seems to share many of the same positions I hold on the current state of rock vs. the music of the '60s. Since he was actually there, maybe his opinions hold a little more weight than mine. Or maybe that would mean he's more biased, and that my analysis of the period is a little more clear-eyed and free of personal motivation. Who can say?

Some highlights:

Pitchfork: One of my favorite sections of the book was talking about Aretha Franklin in New Orleans. You write, "Waves of self-congratulatory affection passed back and forth between [Franklin and the audience]: she claiming credit for recognizing what they wanted to hear; the audience adoring themselves for being so hip as to want the real thing.' The music was caught in the middle, lifeless and predictable." Do you think it's possible for singers and artists of that generation to connect musically anymore, or do you think there's just too much baggage and history?

Boyd: It's pretty tough. I don't know. I had a wonderful experience when I went to the folk alliance in Memphis. I went over and visited Willie Mitchell at his studio. He's working on a new Al Green record for Blue Note, and he played a couple of tracks, which sound really good. A lot of places like New Orleans for many years has had great stuff still going on. But in a way, the key to that, unfortunately, is poverty. Areas that are not as economically developed are capable of keeping their traditions real a lot more easily than places that are prosperous. I think places like New Orleans and Memphis are kind of unusual. I can't remember if I put this in the book or not, I don't think I did, but in New Orleans I went to a Second Line parade about seven or eight years ago. I was distracted listening to the band and watching the dancers. It was a very traditional band-- brass and percussion. And this SUV pulled up on a side street with bass booming and somebody playing a hip-hop track so loud that it rattled the whole street. I looked around kind of angrily and then they turned the key, and these two guys in bib overalls and headrags got out of the SUV, went around to the back, pulled out their trombone and saxophone and joined the band! That's New Orleans. But it's not everywhere.

Pitchfork: What part of that period is such a magnet even 40 years later?

Boyd: I do think there's a little bit of a problem for people making music today in the sense that there aren't many new forms. Obviously hip-hop is a new form that's been invented since the 60s and that's had a lot of energy and has cleared a space for itself in a way. But the guitar-bass-drum rock band and the singer-songwriter with a guitar-- those forms are getting a little tired. And it's hard for people to come up with something really original, I think. Which is why-- and I haven't really listened to them that much-- you get the feeling that groups like the Arcade Fire, who are playing around with rhythmic feels and different instrumentations, have a better chance of coming up with something fresh. You can walk down 6th Street at South by Southwest in Austin and hear that same snare-drum backbeat and that same rhythm-guitar pattern coming out of one bar after another. You're not feeling optimistic that you're going to walk into one of those bars and hear something that you've never heard before. Most of the ground has been covered.

Pitchfork: Do you think there's anything else on the horizon? Or do you think it will keep advancing in revivals?

Boyd: Well, you have to believe that there's something new around the corner somewhere. But it is difficult because I think what we had in the sixties, however illusional or delusional it was, we were optimistic. And when you're optimistic, you can create more stuff that's new. You feel like you're looking forward into a great, big, open, warm, sunny space, and you can go in there with positive feelings of being able to do something new. Today, people are looking backwards. It's like, "Don't tear down that old building," because you feel like if you build something new on that site, it's going to be worse than what was there. Same thing about a lot of things...clothing or whatever. These quotes from the past dominate what's new, because people don't feel confident in being able to take a blank piece of paper and being able to draw something freehand and coming up with something that's better than before. Whereas we did! When you have that confidence, it's very different. It creates a very different atmosphere. It opens up things that don't get opened up otherwise.