by Dean Budnick

Chris Whitley is a fascinating man with an intriguing career arc. After quitting high school in the late seventies and traveling to New York with a National Steel Dobro in hand, he spent the next few years working odd jobs and performing on street corners. Then with the assistance of an admirer who owned a travel agency, Whitley moved to Europe, settling in Belgium. There he put down the dobro and recorded with a number of electronic groups for a few years before returning to the United States. A chance encounter with producer Daniel Lanois led Whitley to Lanois' New Orleans recording studio, resulting in Whitley's spare, powerful Living With The Law. After some solo touring Whitley decided to front an electric band, eventually releasing Din of Ecstasy, a dazzling expression of white-noise and clamor. This musical direction did not ingratiate him with Sony, his record label, which dropped him after his follow-up Terra Incognita. From here he returned to his earlier approach, recording Dirt Floor solo with acoustic instrumentation.

The most recent project for Whitley, a performer of eclectic interests and passions, is Perfect day, an album consisting of covers songs. The estimable rhythm section of Billy Martin and Chris Wood joined Whitley for these recording sessions, which focused on love themed-compositions from the likes of Bob Dylan, Lou Reed and Willie Dixon. The following interview took place one morning while Whitley sipped tea in his New York apartment and some toast caught fire. And yes, for those of you who have heard him on record but have not yet seen him perform live, that indeed is his natural voice. He is currently on the road for a number of shows with Yuval Gabay and Sebastian Steinberg, formerly of Soul Coughing, including the Jimi Hendrix tribute at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on October 20 and 21. For additional information visit his web site, www.chriswhitley.com.

DB- I'm curious, you're such a strong, distinctive songwriter- what led you to record other performers' material?

CW- It just fell together and it was fun to do. I never did covers before, and I never really learned other people's stuff aside from here or there. I've done a Kraftwerk tune and a Prince song once in a while. It just came together. It was sort of fortuitous, where the producer approached me and brought in Billy and Chris. We've known each other for a while and we just did it for the hell of it. I learned the songs in a week and we rehearsed for one day. It was educational for me to learn other people's stuff because straight songwriting is written on standard tuning and I don't play very much standard tuning. It was kind of by accident, organic.

DB- To what extent do you think this experience will impact your own songwriting?

CW- One thing I came to appreciate was the simplicity of some songs and how they stand up. Like "A Perfect Day" by Lou Reed. It's kind of a classic form in terms of the structure and the progression. The music craft aspect was a learning experience for me, just to wrap my head around somebody else's stuff. Actually not the blues tunes so much because those were very improvised in the studio. A couple of them we didn't even know we were going to do until we started doing them. I mean I knew what key I was going to do them in but that's about all.

DB- How did you strike a balance between consciously emulating the original performers versions versus defining these songs on your own terms?

CW- That's why I avoided covers for years. At first I was trying to do them like they were done. I love the way Dylan phrases stuff but I got up one night and decided to practice singing "Spanish Harlem Incident," r&b-ish and it just felt cool. Then I went through this process of finding myself in this stuff which I had to do because they were all such great tunes. I realized the only way I could do them was not to emulate anyone or else they would sound too deliberated and I couldn't feel them at all. I've never wanted to emulate people, I've just wanted to be inspired, influenced by them. If somebody really inspires you then it should be inspiring to do your own thing. That's the most honest kind of nod or tribute.

DB- In that context, I can remember reading somewhere that you inspired by Hendrix but that you didn't necessarily care for his guitar tone.

CW- I may be more inspired now, although I don't listen to him as much anymore. Hendrix to me was like Bob Marley. I'm not a big reggae-head but I love Bob Marley. I think there's something in the guy's spirit or why he's making music that comes through that's more than technique. They were both revolutionaries of their forms. I don't feel I've heard that much electric guitar that was that valuable since Hendrix that wasn't affected by him.

DB- Moving back to Perfect Day, when did you first meet Billy Martin and Chris Wood, and what do you feel they contributed to the sessions?

CW-I met them some years ago when they were just getting known in New York. They were pretty much unknown anywhere else. I met them through Dougie [Bowne] who played drums with me because he did a solo piano record with John Medeski. On some level I was intimated by Billy and Chris, who are great musicians. They were backing me up sort of, and I found myself slightly distracted by that. I play solo a lot so I'm used to improvising within a real structured way, like in little areas although I'm not into lead guitar very much anymore. I 'm not into soloing, I feel more textural. I was worried they might make the sound too busy with too many notes. Obviously, though, we benefited from their skills at improving. I am very structured as a songwriter, and they are improvising jazz guys so they brought that to the session. They also brought their character, their feel and stuff like that. They are great players who learn stuff really fast. They have the feel, it's kind of vital. So we did it totally live like the way old jazz records were done.

DB- I'd like to focus a bit on your performance style and career. When did you first play a National? [Whitley's guitar of choice is often a Mississippi National Steel Dobro.]

CW- I originally played electric guitar in a band. That band was awful though and when I was 17, I quit high school, traded in all this stuff for a National and moved to New York City. It was a middle-ground. I didn't want to play strummy folk guitar but I couldn't lug an amp around. I came to New York and played on the street. I played in Washington Square Park all the time. The National was invented to be louder back before they had pa.'s. They also have a tone that's not quite as sweet. I think that's informed my music. I tend to like more ragged-ass tones. I love 12-string but I couldn't sit down and play it- it's kind of too pretty almost. I also like bands like My Bloody Valentine or Smashing Pumpkins where there are really distorted tones but very sweet chords, very fucked up tones but the chord is like a Holiday Inn Rhodes piano.

DB- Do you write on a National and how do you think that impacts on your songwriting?

CW- I write on different guitars and come up with different things on different ones. That's why I got into using guitars in different tunings to throw myself off. I'm very pragmatic and self-taught. So if play something like a little Martin acoustic I'll come up with different things because the Martin's easier to play. You don't have to bang on it, it's not quite so difficult. The chords are a little bit sweeter and it's a little easier to phrase on.

DB- When you are writing music what impact do you think particular guitars have on the stories you relate?

CW- In my best writing I get visual imagery from sounds, from chords. I'll come up with a melody depending on what guitar it's on. A lot of Living With the Law had deserty, cowboy vibes to it because I hadn't played a National for a while and I hadn't played slide guitar for a while. I had been playing in techno bands in Europe where I had only been playing standard tuning and guitar synthesizer. I quit these bands because I didn't like where that was going and I wanted to write more. So I started playing on the National again without caring what style that was. People could call it blues or whatever. A lot of the imagery is related to the sound, which for me was kind of deserty and southwestern. I lived in Mexico as a kid and the sound would bring me a picture, an atmosphere, a landscape and then I pulled from that. It's like that whole thing about mythology- stories are always told in myths because they're more accessible that way. So definitely what kind of guitar I'm using or what kind of chords I'm using bring lyrics to mind to me.

DB- You mentioned living in Belgium. To what extent do you find that your physical surroundings and environment impact on the type of songs you write?

CW- Quite a bit. Dirt Floor, that little acoustic record, all those songs were written in New York City. To me that record sounds quite a bit like this rural guy in the city feeling scared shitless. Law had a bit of that too, the song "Living With The Law" I wrote for these Puerto Rican drug dealers on my block kind of emphasizing with people trying to do anything to get by.

DB- Given your history with Sony, I'd like to hear your perspective on working with major labels.

CW- There are pros and cons. You get these big budgets but if they're not into you then you're really screwed, it's like your hands are tied. For instance when we were set to record Din, the label was really waiting for us to write Living With The Law again. So they kept us out of the studio. I was kind of like, "Why are we waiting seven months on Andy Wallace?" Then that time would pass and I would pick another guy and we were told we had to wait. Three years went by and it was insane. It was just that people were waiting and hoping I would do something else but not actually telling me. No one was communicating to me.

Then when Din came out we started a tour. We did five nights and every town we went to was sold out. But at the first gig the president of the label came down and said to me, "We're not going to promote this so start writing another record." That was the first gig of a two month tour. We were going off on the road which isn't easy and it was all massive frustration and doubt. That's the kind of shit that makes people give up playing music because it just becomes no fun. It's all business and you don't remember why you started writing songs. That's the biggest danger, creative suicide.

I know people who had several huge hits but the labels just dropped them. There's no loyalty. They drop them if one record doesn't take off and the trends shift. The industry is full of many scared people, including the executives who are afraid of losing their jobs. Things that are unhealthy artistically are the biggest dangers, like thinking you're hot shit because everybody's telling you that.

It definitely went to my head. I thought I had made it, whatever that means. For a while I forgot why I play in the first place which has nothing to do with the music business. It's about people. People need music. They need expression on a very basic, pure level. I think nowadays we forget that because it has become such a commodity. Stuff has changed a lot too. A band can be huge for two years and then gone. Now any bands with any character that are not disposable are pretty disposable. I don't know if that has to do with the music entirely or the fact that culture gets consumed so fast now.