The shuffler: Henry Owings, chief
architect of Chunklet, the long-running magazine that hilariously tackles such
world-shifting topics as the "100 Biggest Assholes In Rock." Owings just
published The Rock Bible, which offers commandments for bands and fans—all based
on loads of real-life experience. ("If you hand out business cards that
emphasize your musical ability, you should focus more on the business-card
industry than music.") But don't
let the opinionated sarcasm fool you: Owings is a diehard music fan who just knows
what he loves and isn't shy about what he doesn't.
Volcano Suns, "Polythene Pam"
Henry Owings: This is something that's going to be on a
reissue they're doing next year. I'm a rabid, rabid fan. It's just weird how
over the years you start to amass things by bands you love—especially in
this digital age, getting that stuff is more and more easy. I had a box arrive
at my front doorstep that was supposedly [singer-drummer] Peter Prescott's tape
collection. This was part of it, so I encoded it. It's going to be on the
reissues that Merge is doing in January. Oh my God, this outtake stuff is just
absolutely vibrant and explosive and incredible. I absolutely adore Volcano
Suns. I always think they're a bit tucked away compared to Mission Of Burma,
who I love equally as much. Goddamn, what a great band.
The A.V. Club: That was enthusiastic! Do you
think people don't expect you to be enthusiastic, based on the tenor of Chunklet?
HO: Possibly! I also think that if people think that,
they're mistaking themselves. I'm looking right now in my office, and I just
had record shelves put in—floor to ceiling. It was my birthday present to
myself. I ran out of space to put records. Anybody who thinks that probably
doesn't understand what I do. Yeah, we make fun of stuff, but we're also
extraordinarily overqualified to make fun of this stuff. We do own every
Captain Beefheart record; we do own every Frank Zappa record, every Bowie
record. We might make fun of The Decemberists, but shit, in 2008, who
shouldn't?
Walter Yetnikoff, Howling At The Moon book on tape
HO: This is such a great second submission… The week
before my wife and I got married, I was in L.A. at Amoeba Records, and there
were like five of this book on tape. It's the guy who ran Sony Records in
America and—I'm gonna have to check my facts on this, but I think he went
on to run Columbia Records in the '80s. If you want a snapshot of record-label
excess, listen to this book on tape. Not only does he read his own book, it's
absurd how many drugs he did, the crowds he kept with. So when we were driving
back from getting married, from the Tennessee mountains back to Atlanta, we
could not stop listening to it. You know that book The Kid Stays In The
Picture?
It bothers me that this isn't in that pantheon of completely insane… Within the
first chapter, he has personal interactions with Jackie O, Michael Jackson,
Bruce Springsteen, Mick Jagger—that's all like within one day. He did so
much cocaine that he and his wife used to call it "milk." They would talk about
having to go for milk runs, like "Are we low on milk?" It's an extraordinary,
hilarious peek into what I would guess is now a dying breed—this guy that
could speed-read contracts, one of those Hit Men types. It's a hilarious
book. It's kind of like the book Crazy From The Heat by David Lee Roth; every
time I see it, I grab it and give it to somebody. Every time, people say, "I
can't thank you enough for getting me this."
AVC: Would you put something like that on your
iPod?
HO: I put books-on-tape on my iPod all the time. Right
now on my iPod is the Barack Obama book, but for some reason it's indexed
weird, so it shuffles around between chapters. I listen to books on tape
religiously, especially when I travel.
Olivia Tremor Control, "The Giant Day (Peel
Session)"
HO: This was on a record I put out for them [on
Owings' Drug Racer label] back in… 1995? God, I'm old.
AVC: You were in the middle of that whole
Elephant 6 thing, right?
HO: I sometimes feel like an indie-rock Zelig, because
I've been able to participate in so many of what I would consider very
important things—not just to me, to culture. Being part of the Elephant 6
thing back in the mid-'90s was extraordinary, and I feel very, very lucky. Not
only were they my housemates and friends, but I got to put out records by Elf
Power, The Olivias, put on house parties with Neutral Milk Hotel. Then I moved
to Atlanta, and almost the same thing happened again with Mastodon and The
Black Lips and The Carbonas and Deerhunter. I feel like I'm just a pleasant
spectator of all this stuff—not just a spectator, but an active
participant. To say that it's humbling would sound cheesy, but it's true. I
just feel really happy to be involved with all this. The Olivias reunited a few
years ago, and I was on the Comedians Of Comedy Tour every goddamn time they
were reuniting, so I never got to see them. But I have plenty of very fond
memories of them playing living rooms and little clubs in Athens, and
assembling records with them back in '95 and '96.
Uncle Dave Macon, "Keep My Skillet Good And
Greasy"
HO: He was a banjo player from before the Depression.
He was, if not the first, one of the first stars of the Grand Ole Opry. I think
he had like 19 different banjo-picking styles. He grew up learning how to play
banjo from transients in Tennessee. He was a gregarious, larger-than-life
figure. Any photo I've ever seen of him, he's just holding a pipe and wearing a
suit. I went to the Country Music Hall Of Fame in Nashville, which I don't
recommend. I got to see Uncle Dave's suit, one of those things where it's
behind glass… There's Dolly Parton's rhinestone-covered dress, and there's
Uncle Dave Macon's suit and suspenders. But you know what really fucking pissed
me off? Right next to that was Billy Ray Cyrus' T-shirt. Let me get this straight.
Not only was it just a T-shirt, it was a Gap T-shirt. So here it is, one of the
true stars of country music, Uncle Dave Macon, and then there's like Glen
Campbell's jacket. Then you have this jackass with a Gap T-shirt, behind glass.
It made me really, really angry.
AVC: Do you think that, for lack of a better
word, the hipsters of a hundred years from now will find Billy Ray Cyrus
records and think he was a genius?
HO: I always get pissed off when people bring up what
hipsters would be into. If they do, I hope that putting bullets in your head is
of-the-moment. Jesus Christ, what a shame. [Laughs.]
AVC: Are you at war with hipsters, or the word
"hipster"?
HO: I'm no more at war with the word "hipster" than I
am at war with the term "schmooze." I hit 40 this year, and the idea of
"hipsters"—and I use quote marks when I say "hipsters"—makes me
think of people that aren't genuinely into something that they're into. People
bring up, "Oh, you like the Vivian Girls, that's so hipster of you." And I'm
like, "What the fuck are you talking about?! It's a great record!" When I think
"hipster," I think something that people kind of clench their teeth and endure
instead of something that they're legitimately into. I'm not more at war with
hipsters now than when I started listening to music. I just want to like what I
like. And I sometimes think that when I see a blog or magazine extol the
virtues of one band or one genre of music, and I think "Are you fucking
serious? This stuff is unlistenable!" There are many, many examples, but I
would prefer keeping this conversation on the up-and-up.
AVC: Dammit.
HO: Do you want me to smack-talk? I can totally
fucking smack-talk. Look at something like Of Montreal, for instance, which is
a glorified eighth-generation Spiders From Mars. I'm fine with there being an
eighth-generation Spiders From Mars, but I've got a better idea—why don't
you listen to the Spiders From Mars and learn where they're cribbing every last
one of their stage antics from? Go and buy some records from the '70s and late
'60s, and watch some DVDs, and you'll see where they stole everything. It might
be some of the least imaginative shit that I could imagine. I have nothing
against their success, but give me a fucking break.
AVC: Not to take this conversation into too
serious an area, but are you then discounting the idea that people might just
actually love that music? Surely people like Of Montreal just because they like
how it sounds.
HO: God bless 'em. I had a long discussion about
guilty pleasures… But if somebody likes the music, God bless 'em. There are
things that I like that people make fun of me about. I'm not one to say, "You
can't listen to this." I just roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders.
AVC: Are you skipping something?
HO: [Laughs.] I'll go back. If you want to talk about
hipster, this is as hipster as it gets.
Flower Travellin' Band, "Satori, Part 2"
HO: They were from the early '70s in Japan. Have you
heard about this new book by Julian Cope called Japrocksampler? They're on the cover of
the frickin' book. The Japanese have never been very good at creating something
original, but they're very good at taking something inherently not from their
country and making it incredible. Anything from industry, or the arts… Look at
music: Guitar Wolf or Teengenerate or The Boredoms. It's inherently American
music, and they take it and reinterpret it and send it back even more insane.
The Flower Travellin' Band is a prime example; they take something from
American music in the late '60s and completely reinterpret it and make it
unbelievable. But I know they're sort of a band of the moment. I was out
promoting the book this week and I saw the record everywhere, and I was like
"Fucking awesome!"
AVC: How many hours a day do you listen to
music?
HO: Every one of them? I work out of the house, so I'm
really lucky that I can just listen to music all day. If you told me when I was
17, when I was buying music that I still listen to today, that I could listen
to it all day… The only time I don't listen to music is mostly when I'm
traveling. I don't put in my iPod and zone out. I love ingesting sights and
sounds, so I won't carry my iPod in Berlin or New York. I like being able to
absorb everything. But when I'm at home working, I absolutely listen to music
all day.
AVC: What's the biggest part of your day? Chunklet? Freelance design?
HO: Mostly design stuff, but it really changes from
day to day. I do a lot of design, a lot of Chunklet, putting out records. I
manage this band from Athens called Harvey Milk, taking care of stuff for their
tour. But if you did a pie chart, it would mostly be design work.
Barbecue Pants, "I Trusted You"
HO: This song is so fucking funny. Listen to it for a
second. This was a joke band from Athens. This is a recording from when they performed
before Dinosaur Jr., maybe last year. The lineup was two of the guys from
Hayride, Dave Schools from Widespread Panic, and Kyle Spence from Harvey Milk.
All they did was covers, like Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith. This song is "I Trusted
You." I don't know how familiar you are with Andy Kaufman's performed work, but
he did this song, which for eight minutes is just him saying "I trusted you."
So for this song, they had J. Mascis perform with them. It was the most surreal
eight minutes of one riff you could possibly imagine. I don't think anybody in
the crowd really got it, but I was laughing my fucking ass off. That sense of
humor is right up their alley. Dave Schools—say what you will about his
day job—it was some funny, funny shit. Then they did a Led Zeppelin song,
and then came back and revisited this song later. Fucking brilliant. I just
love the name of the band, Barbecue Pants. It's a very Southern sort of name. I
got my barbecue pants on.