1975—

To Michael Davis

"Music isn't local anymore. It's inter-continental. Nowadays, when you do something on stage you have to take into consideration Chicago, Detroit, New York City, Miami, Los Angeles, San Francisco, all the way through Arizona and Europe. I don't know how many people have played South America, but a few have played Africa. There are a lot of different communities you have to relate your thing to. You have to retranslate from town to town and from country to country."

"I want to do a documentary of America through the eyes of a band on the road. It has to be involved with guys who are writing, and who know how to relate to different people in the band.

"It can't be a rock group's first tour, because that's like Alice in Wonderland — everything is bad, everything is distasteful, everything is bitter. Or everything is stupendous — it's just too much pecan pie for somebody to take. That's the reason a lot of groups don't last.

"Take one English group on one American tour, and they're killing each other by the time they get to Chicago.  By the end of the tour, they hate each other, can't stand each other. They have never worked that hard or been scrutinized that closely by other people — and Americans are pretty

"Proportionately more people over here are into music, and they're always asking about it, constantly knowing when you lifted what from whom, which is terrific, you know? Because the Limeys have lifted everything — first, from old blues, to jazz and rock 'n' roll, now reggae. It's funny.

"Plus, if they play in Italy, or if they play in London, they're playing to only one race of people. They're not playing to a conglomerate or to mixed races the way we do here. We have a phenomenal degree of different kinds of people and different kinds of temperaments. It's hard for English bands to relate to that.

"Basically, all the people a Limey rock band is playing to over here were part of a British colony — and they lost 'em! (Laughs) Now the Limeys can't even talk about tennis! They'll be a mute country in 10 years."

DAVIS:  What to you think of the European system, with state subsidies for innovators. Does that work?

BUCKLEY: 
I would love to have menial things taken care of — my rent and bills paid. But there's something about the fight that's good. There's something about that in the American spirit. Obviously, you can tell the difference in America between a person who's on welfare and a person who's not. There's a certain spirit that's not there with the welfare person. It's a hard thing to get out of. It's an attitude. It's basically wallowing in your own shit. . .

Struggle makes for a different thing. It makes for a more vital expression when it comes out. Our credentials in America hold up against anybody's in the world. I think with all the pretense of freedom of speech in this country, we go through more shit to get heard, for things to be said, for the real word to get out to people, for the real expression, the real thing — not the surface, not the facade, not the fake creativity, not the decadence that is constantly flaunted in our face through the media. When an artist finally comes out of this mess which is one blubbering mass, you hear a pure voice — and it's American. Europe can't touch it.

To Davis on Communism—

"Obviously, there are subsidies and there are some terrific artists in the Communist syndrome, but I certainly wouldn't want to be a part of the Chinese thing, where individuality is mocked and held in contempt. It's a collective thing. Those types of things work for a race of people, but I don't think Chinese Communism could work in America, and I don't think it should. I don't think we should be deprived of our individual flamboyance.

"As for Russian Communism, I'll go so far as to say we could stop spending on war defense, pack up all the missiles, and send an invitation to Moscow saying, 'Here, the country's yours. Come on in and set up shop. We're real tired of running it. Come on in.'

"I predict that within a year, maybe six months, with Communists walking around our streets telling us to do things — just from personal contact with Americans, they will probably go bananas. I don't think they could deal with any
of our neuroses, any of the idiosyncrasies that we've fought long and hard for and want to keep — they couldn't deal with us.

"I don't think they're heavy enough to mingle with Americans. I don't think they are. That's why I think all this governmental spending on defense is amazing. It's amazingly worthless."

To Davis on Europe


"I had an image in my head for years, that all Germans were like the stereotypes given to us by Hollywood. Not true. They're a very sensitive people. Obviously — they've come up with Rilke, Goethe, Beethoven, name it. But they couldn't deal with us either. I just know it.

"Our greatest defense is not bombs. It's us — and what we do, and the ways we do it. Europe can't hold a candle to us. The only thing they can flaunt at us is that our level of decadence isn't up to theirs. That's about the only trump they hold in their deck.

"They still hold on to those segregationist, racist beliefs, and that's fading pretty quickly in this country. Not that it's terrific yet. We still have to deal with it. But it's moving along.

"I did a promotional tour through Europe, 11 days, all the countries. I did 15 newspaper interviews a day in about eight countries. I met exactly one woman journalist. That's amazing. It's amazing!

"In the last nine years, I've played there four or five times now. They have East Indians and Africans there. But these and other minorities are allowed in, only to work on the roads, clean the bathrooms, collect trash and do other things that the Europeans don't want to have their own people work on. That's real backward.

"America is great, because we're not pure. We're much stronger, because we're not pure. I just know that I couldn't create in any other country, 'cause this country is for the connoisseur.

"I mean, just to figure out Hollywood or Los Angeles alone — impossible. To figure out what really makes Hollywood tick is probably a life-long ambition. I will probably never understand it — the motives, the back-stabbing, the double-talk, everything, basically to get your piece of the action. This is a great country, the only country in the world I'd live in."

To Frankie Nemko (May/June 1975; Tim's last interview)—

TIM:  The only thing I have against Los Angeles is the business, the way business is conducted here. There's no honest answer. There's no one person you can talk to. I know you and critic Leonard Feather run into that, and every musician runs into that. And it's bullshit. It's what everybody remembers.

If you're a person working in a supermarket or something like that, then living here is terrific. But having to deal with the business L.A. style — the invention of the Hold Button is probably my greatest enemy. You call — and immediately you're on hold. And there's this man at his desk, the President of whatever record company or movie company or TV show — and you're immediately on hold, being screened through his secretary. She's his little filter there. I don't know if they tell them about half the calls! Is the secretary familiar with you? There's a lot of offices where they just say, "He's not in." The secretary takes it upon herself, without asking the fellow. We've all been the victim of this.

It's just not fair what they do. It's a gutless thing, with this man in his office. He'll only talk to his friends on the phone and people that he knows. He doesn't want to hear a new voice — and basically all you're asking him is the time of day. . .

Doing business in Los Angeles is sort of a degradation. It's not an honorable thing to do, and they keep you in that position, because you never get an answer. And you never see a contract without 19 other people in the room — nine lawyers and 40 motives.

FRANKIE:
  What is there to get offended about, because I've experienced that in other cities, too.

TIM:  Well, maybe it's just because I'm fighting for my life here. But in New York, a phone call is made, we meet at a restaurant, and we sign the contract over the ketchup and the steak sauce. I like that a lot better.

Plus, there's more street
. You knew that the record company was gonna give you money, and you'll only be able to survive in the street a few days with that money — and you're gonna have to come up with a song (laughs) — and you're gonna have to come back, and you're gonna have to go into the studio, or else you're a write-off.

But here, you give a hippy $15 for a song, and he's up in the mountains for a month — and you may never see him again!

I can understand the corporate side of it, because the will to work isn't as immediate and intense here.

FRANKIE:
  Well, when you're here for a while, and when your life doesn't depend on it, then you do learn to work with it. I have. I suppose because I'm not involved in having to get answers.


TIM: . . .Somebody ought to make a documentary [on musician Roland Kirk], especially the young black people, because a lot of them — if it hadn't been for the movie on Billie Holiday, they wouldn't have known who she was.  I'm not laying any blame anywhere — it's just that things get lost in time, you know?

That night Roland played here [at Concerts By The Sea in Redondo Beach], the timing was right. It was all spiritual, what happened that night, and he lucked out. If you don't live here, you can't afford to come from the East Coast to play the West Coast, unless you play your way across the United States, or you do that series thing, where you pick up a band somewhere, which is suicidal.

Pickup bands are terrible. It's terrible for the music. The music suffers. The music has to be the same people playing it everywhere. You go into a town somewhere, a little microcosm, and you're gonna present this thing that everybody believes in, and Roland has always believed in that, and so has Miles Davis, and so has Duke Ellington and John Coltrane. They would not go into a town and play with a pickup band.

I learned that from them. You don't do that. Whatever your finances are, you gotta have your own people with you. It's like taking the leading lady of a Broadway show on the road, and leaving everybody else behind. It's been done, but it suffers. It's like saying, "Well, Idaho isn't worth it." It's like saying, "Well, Cleveland ain't as hot as Chicago," which is a bunch of crap. It depends on what year it is, or what the season is. It's like saying, "Well, Miami is a lot more important than Jacksonville," which isn't true, either.

It used to be that New York City was The Apple. That was it. And now it isn't. It's everywhere. All those people moved to Atlanta or out here, so you never know who you're gonna run into. New Yorkers everywhere. The world is The Apple . . . .


To Frankie Nemko—

I know the street music in London. In fact, I remember this lady who sang with a terrific voice. There was an accordion and a small upright bass and a guitar, four people, called buskins. It was in 1968, and she was great — "Peg O' My Heart," "Five Foot Two," the accordion ringing through the streets.

I was there, in tears. It was beautiful, 'cause I was drunk by noon myself! And I didn't have anybody. It's terrible to go back to a hotel in a foreign country. It doesn't make it. At least in America at a Holiday Inn, you know what you're getting. You can call a chaplain and tease him about suicide, and he'll come play chess with you, but in a foreign country, you can't pull that stuff.

The next week, I was back in New York City — and there they are! They were playing down at McDougal and Eighth, a traveling street band. And of course, they were pullin' rank, being the only Limeys in New York, and with all their street elegance. And they were gettin' more bread! Makin' a lot of money! The woman had a Palladium music hall voice. They went from one song into another, really great. Here they were, in New York, on the road — literally in the streets.


SOURCES

Bradley, Sam. All Bradley quotes are from my transcription of Bradley's unpublished taped interview with Tim Buckley, 1973, used by permission.

Charlesworth, Chris. "Los Angeles Report," Melody Maker, October 20,                   1973.

Davis, Michael. All Davis quotes are from my transcription of Michael's taped interview with Tim Buckley, April, 1975, used by permission.

Davis published parts of this interview in the Los Angeles Free Press, May 9-15, 1975, and in Goldmine, May 10, 1985.

Eberle, Paul. "Tim Buckley Raps," Jazz & Pop, March, 1969.

Henderson, Bill
. "Tim Buckley Talk-In," Sounds, August 3, 1974.

Hynde, Chrissie. "How a Hippie Hero Became a Sultry Sex Object," New Musical Express, June 8, 1974.

KUMN—FM, Albuquerque, NM, used by permission.

McKaie (first name not on copy; probably Andy). Rock, September 20-25, 1972.

Micklo, Anne Marie. "Tim Buckley Interview," Changes, p.29, Vol. I, No.7, 1969.

Mieses, Stanley
. "Singer Tim Buckley Sends His 'Greetings From L.A.'," Leisure, August 19, 1973.

Nemko, Frankie, from my transcription of Frankie Nemko's unpublished taped interview with Tim Buckley, May/June 1975 (Tim's last interview), used by permission.

New Star Horizon
, [November?] 1970-71.

(Fear and Loathing in Tulsa—Impressions of America © Lee Underwood, 2002. This work or any part of it may not be quoted (except for brief passages in a review) or used in any fashion or by any means or on any other web site without written permission from Lee Underwood.)

Fear and Loathing in Tulsa
Impressions of America

 
Quotations by Tim Buckley
Compiled by Lee Underwood




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