"Sound System" by Operation Ivy/Jesse Michaels

ARTIST: Jesse Michaels of Operation Ivy
SONG: "Sound System"
WRITERS: Jesse Michaels, Tim (Lint) Armstrong, Matt (McCall) Freeman, Dave Mello 
ALBUM: Energy on Lookout! Records/Hellcat Records
YEAR: 1989
SITES: Jesse Michaels, Operation Ivy
BUY: Operation Ivy

High school sucks. Junior high sucks even more. In the middle of my thirteenth, royal blue-haired, miserable year on Earth, sweet solace came in the form of a nineteen track album by a West Coast band called Operation Ivy. My best friend and I would hole up in his bedroom and dissect every word of that record, and then write our favorite lines on our Vans and jeans. The music told us that we had choices, opinions that mattered, and a right to our feelings. On top of all that - it also made us dance.

These days, singer and lyricist Jesse Michaels can be found out in front of his current band, Classics of Love, who keep the spirit of punk alive with their own brand of Oakland rock. He graciously accepted my request to talk about "Sound System," the second song from Energy, Operation Ivy's epic release. It's so cool, I may just have to draw a boombox on my jeans. 

BA: Jesse Michaels! I owe you a debt of gratitude, man. I’ve danced around to your music more than you will ever know. Thank you for that, and for doing this interview.

JM: The debt of gratitude is all mine, literally.

BA: I’m not sure if anyone’s brought this to your attention, but the Operation Ivy album pretty much changed and saved lives when it came out. "Sound System," in particular, was like a call to stand with music against whatever life threw at you. Was that what music meant to you at the time?

JM: Yes, I think that is a really accurate reading of that song. In particular your phrase, "stand with music." I never thought of it that way but that is exactly the point of the song, and in general the spirit of a lot of the Opivy songs. Recognizing a force in music which is redeeming and standing with it against "whatever life threw at you." I would try to unpack it more but I think you nailed it.

BA: These lines have such a wisdom to them:
“To resist despair, the second makes you see...
To resist despair, because you can't change everything...
To resist despair, in this world is what it is to be free.”
Where did that awareness come from?

JM: Quite honestly, that awareness came from personal anguish and deep unhappiness. I was desperately conflicted and frustrated as a kid. A lot of Opivy's lyrics are about political grievances, but really, the emotional content is pretty personal. The songs are about politics and issues and stuff but the "subtext" of the songs is about personal or internal struggles. That particular passage is about finding hope in this great invisible power of music when everything else seems really overwhelming and impossible.

BA: The lyrics are so smart – and you skillfully manage to say quite a bit for a song that’s only two minutes and fourteen seconds long. Part of that is due to your fast-pace vocal delivery. I’d love to know how that style developed for you.

JM: Well, at that time I really liked fast-talking rap and reggae artists like Shabba Ranks, Shinehead, and so on. There were others but I can't remember their names . . . more came later, like B.O.N.E and stuff, but at that time there were just a few. I always liked the sound of theatrically over-packed vocals. The song "Pay 2 Cum" by The Bad Brains was another one. I mean, I was a teenage boy and I liked displays of bravado, it was impressive and exhilarating. I tried to use that style in a way that complimented the song and didn't make it too busy.

BA: The vocals are great, and there’s a real feeling of band participation throughout the song, where people jump in and out of singing with/around you. How were the decisions about who-sang-what arrived at?

JM: A lot of it was pretty intuitive. Tim was a guy that you couldn't keep away from the microphone, he was always chiming in like Flavor Flav or something. That was just his thing and it really worked for the band because my voice is very mid-range and his really cuts through. Also, my whole vibe was pretty earnest and and he had a more informal feel so it warmed up the songs when he added his bits. I had some hand in the vocal arrangements, I would often choreograph call and response type things, but it was also very organic. The band had strong instincts, it often felt like the song was already written and we were just kind of falling into our natural roles. That was definitely the case with "Sound System." Tim came in with a blueprint for the song and everything just sort of fell together.

BA: How did the writing of this song go down? Did you guys have a jam that you wrote the lyrics and vocals to, or the other way around?

JM: Typically, Tim would come in to band practice with an idea which would consist of a riff and a raw vocal pattern. Sometimes he and I would hash it out before band practice and other times we would put it together on the spot. I think for that song he had the chorus and his vocal break written ("Wake up in the morning bust the shade let the sun in" etc). We jammed it at his house and wrote the basic structure. I remember him playing it for me in his tiny bedroom and I could literally see the shade and the boom-box he was talking about in the lyrics. Of course, memory is a funny thing, I wonder if I just imagine that in hindsight?  Anyway, the build-up intro in the beginning was put together by the whole band. Like somebody said, "Let's start it quiet and then do a stop on the one," and then Tim threw in that Roddy Radiation (The Specials) type lead. Once a basic verse/chorus pattern was set up with the band, I just improvised over the music-bed until I found a vocal pattern that worked. Then I took it home and wrote all the elaborate word-play and stuff. A big part of song-writing for me has always been sitting for hours in front of a notebook, playing the song in my head and sculpting the language around the vibration, if you will.

BA: As an East Coast kid, I blew it with seeing you guys live. I know that the band was only around for two years. How long had you been playing "Sound System" live before it was recorded?

JM: I think we had been playing that one for maybe a year before it was recorded. We only went on one tour and didn't even play in New York City so I guess a lot of the people that are into it now didn't see us!

BA: Tell me about the recording of this song for the album. It sounds truly live. Is it?  If so, how many times did you run through it before you thought you had the right take?

JM: The recording was very live. I did the vocals in the booth but those guys played everything live except for leads. I think the amps were isolated. I don't think we did very many takes of anything. I don't exactly remember but I think we did 19 songs in maybe 3 or 4 days? That's just how it was back then. We were pretty tight, I mean we played a lot and had toured. Also we had tried to record the record before so we had that first recording session as practice for the second one. That was the punk ethos and it worked for what we were trying to do. The engineer, Kevin (Army), could not have been better. He had a great bedside manner, pushing things along but sometimes asking for second takes. He knows how to facilitate creativity and not over-manage the process.

BA: What is this song to you now? Is it like and old friend, or an ex that you hope to never speak to again?

JM: More like an ex! I can't stand listening to my own music, but I am really glad it works and I am very inspired when it's being written and recorded. After that, I am done with it and want it to go away! I don't know why that is, just an instinct.

BA: Who were your biggest influences when you were writing this beloved piece of music?

JM: For this particular song I would say The Specials, The Clash, The Selecter, and Public Enemy - you can hear the Chuck D influence in the line, "Contained in music but somehow more than just sound" . . . and then a lot of it is just pure invention.

BA: What’s your favorite song right this minute?

JM: Right this minute, since I was thinking about Public Enemy, the song "Rebel Without a Pause." In general, I listen to a much broader variety of music than I used to (you know, a lot of "grown up" stuff ha ha), but that track still makes the world split wide open for me.

BA: Dude, I can’t thank you enough. High-five for the music, and for telling us all about where it came from.

JM: Hi five to you for such a thoughtful and intelligent interview and for your amazing work.

"Ever" by Lemonheads/Ben Deily

ARTIST: Ben Deily of Lemonheads

SONG: "Ever"

WRITER: Ben Deily

ALBUM: Lick on Taang! Records

YEAR: 1989

SITES:  Ben Deily, The Lemonheads

BUY: Lick - Lemonheads

Before there was a "The" out in front of their name, Lemonheads had two great singers and songwriters. Their styles and voices came together for three full length albums and one EP, all released within a very short period of time. Ben Deily left the band after their record Lick was released in 1989 - but not before he gave us the saccharine sweet, delicious confection, "Ever." I've seen Ben play in other outfits, but missed him in Lemonheads, sadly. I was not as keen on missing him for this interview series. Imagine my delight when he agreed to indulge me. He turned out, not surprisingly, to be the nicest guy of all time.

BA: Hey Ben! Thanks for taking the time to cast your memory back for this interview.  I’m so happy to be talking with you.

BD: Hey, the pleasure is all mine. It’s extremely flattering to have a song I wrote called out for this kinda attention, after all.

BA: So, I think "Ever" is a terrific love song. I secretly wish it (or anything like it) had been written for me. Alas, I only came as close as having my high-school boyfriend put it on a mix tape. Talk to me about who this song was written for. Did she “get it”?

BD: I sure hope she did. Hah! Actually, these days she–the ostensible subject/object of the song–is an academic at [cough] an “eminent Ivy League institution," so you could say she’s pretty sharp. Thus, I imagine she got the message, such as it was. (Not that it prevented her from tearing out my heart and eating it like a fruit roll-up . . . but, ah! We were all so, so young. Plus, that’s a whole ‘nother story.)

BA: How is it that you were a wise, grounded person at the ripe age of . . . what,
twenty? Were you drawing on real life experiences for these lyrics?

BD: Kind of you to say. (Actually, make that–gulp–17 or so.) I dunno. A more plausible explanation–since I was neither wise nor grounded–would probably involve looking to the fundamentally conservative mores of your average sensitive/self-styled romantic teenage boy. You know how insufferable and clingy they can be. Wearing eyeliner, reading poetry, and flopping around. “Ah love, let us be true to one another!”

But yeah, the lyrics are indeed drawn from an (admittedly impressionistic) account of real events, people and places. Now that I cast my mind back, actually, the original words I wrote had some, er, slightly . . . lurid bits. (Rather than, “And there together in the curtain-drifting twilight . . .” the original line was, “And you were naked in the curtain-drifting twilight . . .” I must have deemed that a bit past the bounds of propriety.)

In terms of “real life experiences," though, it’s funny: I think almost everything I’ve ever written has been–for better or worse–drawn directly from life. (And it only gets worse. When Varsity Drag released Night Owls, our most recent album, I remember remarking that every single word on the record was literally true. Well, almost every one.) I should probably change that habit. Lawsuits, and all that.

BA: You reference the Beatles song, "When I’m Sixty-Four," in the line: 

“The record asks 'will you still need me when I’m sixty-four?'”
Were they a big influence at the time  Who else were you listening to?

BD: Well, like a lot of '70s kids, I was practically weaned listening to the Beatles . . . my dad would put their records on to lull my kid brother and me to sleep, as far back as I can remember. So definitely in the background for all of us, to be sure. The kind of influence that’s so far down in the bedrock of what you consider to be “a good song," it doesn’t even pop up as a conscious influence, y’know?

As far as stuff we were listening to, well, tons of Boston hardcore and punk bands . . . and of course Replacements and Hüsker Dü . . . Big Star . . . lots of UK ’77 punk . . . early L.A. punk like the Germs, and Black Flag, Circle Jerks, X, Agent Orange . . . geez, I guess really the whole gamut, when I think about it. (But–cards on the table–if I had to pull out a key "Ever"-influence from that list, I think I pretty much hear Bob Mould.)

But back to the particular Beatles reference: that takes us back–ironically enough–to mix tapes. If memory serves me, the “girl in question” had made a mix tape that included several Beatles tunes, among which was "When I’m Sixty-Four." So the lyrical reference, while striving for some kinda resonance, was also based on an actual, observed moment between us. These things happen. Life is stranger than fishin’.

BA: It’s always been fuzzy for me, what the order of operations were, regarding this song’s life. Was it originally recorded for Hate Your Friends (1987), but not released until Lick (1989)?

BD: Yep. Recorded in the same sessions as a lot of Hate Your Friends, not released until a couple years later. As I recall, part of the reason may have involved some friction around whether such sentimental fare was appropriate for “a punk band like Lemonheads." (I got some of the same flack regarding the inclusion of our first-ever original acoustic song "Postcard," on Creator.) Seems funny now, doesn’t it? Hah.

BA: Am I correct in my understanding that at this stage of the band, you and Evan Dando were trading off on drums and guitar/vocals, depending on whose song was being played?

BD: Yeah. That’s how the whole thing started. Ev and I–just the two of us–swapping back and forth on drums and guitar. We played that way for the better part of a year, but figured we had to add a bass player to be a “real” band and play out (this being before Congress legalized two-person bands with the historic White Stripes Act of 1997). But we went right on with the switching, as a trio, ‘til we finally added a full-time drummer and both went up front. You can see the early configurations in video from our first-ever show:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhZPZ0Jnhyg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0hT97CK_dY

BA: Is that Evan singing the low harmonies on the chorus, or are you singing with yourself?

BD: That’s Ev all right. What an awesome voice.

BA: How did you guys record this? Were you just in a room with mics, playing
the hell out of the song, or were there layers involved?

BD: Musta been at Tom Hamilton’s studio in Brookline, where we recorded the first EP and a lot of the first couple records. My memory is bad. What was that place called? The Sound Cellar? It was either 8 track or 16 track reel-to-reel. A real studio, though, to be sure . . . mics and headphones, overdubs, the whole nine yards. (Tom is and was an excellent engineer, and friend, to us. And he’s worked on a lot of seminal Boston rock and punk stuff over the years. Heckuva body of work.)

BA: I’ve seen around the interwebs that you’ve played "Ever" with your more recent project, Varsity Drag. How does it feel to play it in this chapter of your life? Is it still relevant for you?

BD: Well, apparently it was still relevant enough to audiences that we got a lot of people shouting it out. So it seemed like it’d be ungracious for us not to learn it. But I will admit, revisiting it gives me a new appreciation for earnest li’l Ben. It’d be easy to be embarrassed by one’s younger self, I guess, but from this distance . . . I feel for the kid. Plus, it means so much to me that something I wrote means something to fans. (For what it’s worth, while I know the original recording will always be preferred by those for whom it had significance, I think I kinda do it better now than I ever used to . . . at least in terms of my “performance,” or whatever. We give it a run for its money, anyhoo.)

http://varsitydrag.bandcamp.com/track/ever-live

BA: What’s your favorite song right this minute?

BD: Right this minute? Anything off of Rain On The City by Freedy Johnston. Freedy = god.  And also, anything from the (tragically) only album by the band Plexi, Cheer Up. It’s on Sub Pop. F*ckin’ epic stuff. Spent the other weekend playing bass along with it over and over again, until I gave myself a sore sacroiliac joint from jumping around on one foot. (Swear to god, I may have been–as many people accused me of being–middle-aged at heart when I was a teen, but now that I’m really here? I am not doing it very gracefully.)

BA: Thanks again, man! I’m still holding out for a song like this in my lifetime,
but you’ve set the bar pretty high. Cheers.

BD: Again, you are too, too kind to say so. And here’s hoping you get someone off their ass and behind a guitar to write that for ya. Hint: breaking their heart first will probably help tease out a higher level of quality. Just a word to the wise. (Fellas, admit it: you know I’m right about this.)