Brant Bjork sports the kind of resume that any red-blooded rock zealot wet-dreams about. As founding member of legendary desert psycho rock gods Kyuss, Bjork wrote, amongst others, the trail-blazing keystones of desert rock: ‘Green Machine’, ‘Gardenia’, and ‘50 Million Year Trip (Downside Up)’. Upon leaving Kyuss Bjork produced and played with surf rockers Fu Manchu and hardcore outfit De-Con. He was a major contributor to the renowned Desert Sessions and has subsequently gone on to a celebrated career of his own inception—the culmination of which is the soon to be touring Brant Bjork and the Bros. I was curious whether Bjork, as an integral component of the Palm Desert scene of the ‘80s and early ‘90s, could offer any clues as to how so many remarkable musical exponents rose from the same dust-bowl, how the inspiration arrives as a solitary writer and where his trip will take him next.
‘I don’t know why all those freaks came out of there playin’ music,’ he explains. ‘I’m at a loss for words about it; I don’t know what it was. There was nothing else to do, it was in the middle of the desert, it was boring and it was hot. A lot of the stuff that was there was focussed towards retired people that were just tryin’ to relax for the rest of their lives. It wasn’t really a place for kids so we got really excited about things that revolved around youth—like gettin’ into trouble, punk rock, skateboarding, BMX. It was like classic Southern Californian culture but to the nth degree. Music was something you just did and we all got involved man. It wasn’t that we wanted it, we needed it—it was something to look forward to.
‘There was a lot of my music over the years that was born from hangin’ out with friends and jamming. I think that’s probably where most of my (and I think I speak for most of the other artists that come from the desert where I’m from) sound and style came from—it was our trip to a large extent. Sometimes in the studio, though, I get hit with inspiration and I wanna capture it—the tape machine’s right there. Sometimes I’ll be sound-checking and I’ll get an idea and I’ll break out my little recorder and dump it onto that—I may not get back to it ‘til six months later. I very rarely sit down and say I have to write a song today.
‘Music for me is something very natural, like surfing. If there’s no waves you don’t go surfing; if there are, you’ll go out and try to catch a few. I have other things that I put my heart and mind to whether music’s coming or not. Maybe something happens, maybe I see something, maybe I’m at a bar hangin’ out with my friends and I get hit with something. It just comes whenever it wants to come, so if it takes six months I’ve got other things goin’ on anyways.
‘New territory to explore is endless. I’ve always wanted to get more into jazz, I like a lot of hip-hop music, and I listen to a lot of Jamaican tunes. There are so many flavours and styles that I would love to try and drop in to. But again, music for me is less something that I’m trying to force but something that just happens and I roll with it. I learnt long ago that the way I write a song, the way it comes out of me, is just the kinda way it is. We’ll see as I evolve as a musician how some of the other music I’ve been inspired by, and into, over the years will treat my grooves.
‘I was discussing soundtracks with this guy not so long ago.’ Bit parts (including a rattle-snake bite in Natural Born Killers) aside, Bjork recently composed the soundtrack for the documentary Sabbia. ‘Besides music and the arts, which I love, I also love film, moves and screenwriting. Screenplays are something I’m really involved with right now and I want to get more into movies. I think movies is radical art!’
Writing, performing and playing a hand in the production of all the Bros' material must create difficulties when assembling a band for the road. Bjork insists that despite retaining absolute control over his output these days, the Bros are a ‘real’ band and that there is zero likelihood of leaning on technology as substitute for flesh and bone. ‘I would only work with the type of musician who’s gonna come in and respect the song, but when you’re playin’ live it’s different. When a song has been performed live, it’ll never be performed like that ever again. I understand this reality and encourage and expect the musicians I play with to give the song what they feel. I want them to react to the song in an honest way. If they’re feelin’ it, it’s true and they can play from an honest place—then go for it.’
‘If there was a studio in town that had old gear, all pre ’71, and I could afford it I’d be recording there every time. What I enjoy sonically with recorded music is stuff from the ‘60s and ‘70s, analogue. I don’t have a love for digital music myself. Vinyl was created when there was a ritual of listening to an entire record; these days it’s more like going to burger king, getting’ fast food. With records it’s like goin’ to a fine restaurant… sittin’ down and takin’ your time, starting with some fine wine, really enjoying the experience. You hold onto it and take more of it with you so it’s more meaningful. I think your soul gets a lot more out of it.
‘In terms of recording, writing, producing or performing; I enjoy each experience. I love making records but they can drive me nuts too. I love touring and playing live but also sittin’ around at home and being mellow and going really deep inside myself and just meditating on my new trip—just letting it all come out and being alone and havin’ space. It’s like seasons man—I like ‘em all for what they have to offer. Having said that, it’s playin’ live that gets my heart super pumped because that’s what I grew up doing. Some musicians are born in a studio, some on a stage, some at home and some on the sidewalk. I was born playing backyard parties with my friends and weirdos and rockin’ out—just letting it all hang out. That’s where I was born as a musician so there’s a place in my heart for that.’
No comments:
Post a Comment