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After firing his band, Travis Meeks got in touch with his loneliness
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Savoring the new.
Travis Meeks lives in his own world. Not only does the musical savant live on the wrong side of the clock, he does it in a cavernous four-story brick edifice on the outskirts of Louisville, Ky., that he bought last year. One hundred and fifty years ago, the building was a working distillery, churning out massive quantities of Old Grand Dad Whiskey. Today, Meeks has rechristened it Distillery Sound Works and has renovated most of the 10,000 square feet, installing a state-of-the-art studio, comfortable living quarters and plans to create his own personal zoo on the top floor a la Michael Jackson.
The similarities between the twenty-year-old Meeks and permanent-adolescent Jackson shouldn't be a surprise. Both of the musicians began their careers at an unspeakably young age, and as a result sacrificed most of their youth. By the age of fourteen, Meeks had already fathered a daughter, by the age of fifteen, he was already recording the initial tracks for Days of the New's self-titled first album, which came out in '97. Now he plans to create his own terrestrial Noah's Ark as well as foster a utopian community that is fueled by his revelatory music, taking listeners on a spiritual and psychological journey.
Meeks' latest stab at furthering that journey is the just-released Days of the New II, the follow to the band's platinum-selling debut.
"The thing is that music is an ultimate tool, but I think I have more to offer than just music," Meeks says. "I don't really see myself preaching to people, but presenting myself to them as an example. I've started something with Days of the New, and it has a strong following. But it's not just about music; we're going towards a universal destination. It's a bigger destination than most human beings have."
While it's not hard to imagine the young Meeks dreaming up his own alternative community -- it's difficult to actually envision him living in it, among his foot soldiers. He rarely goes out during the day, shuns restaurants altogether, and when you actually sit across from him, he avoids direct eye-contact and instead muses from behind a thick screen of blond hair. Rather then interact with people, the musician prefers to pour everything into his music. He claims to have been celibate for four years -- until recently -- and seems to thrive on constant work. When the band's debut was released, Meeks bragged, "I've always lived music twenty-four hours a day and never really cared about much else. Sometimes that was a problem, but it's turned out to be a blessing." The blessing, of course, was that Days' debut album went platinum, the nascent band toured with Metallica and now Travis Meeks drives a spanking new black BMW, and owns two houses.
"I don't mind being all by myself," says Meeks. "Sometimes. I guess in some cases it's painful. But I was alone for a while, and I spent a lot of time staying up all night and just being alone, and man, those are irreplaceable moments. I loved it." Since last October, he's been even more isolated, firing his band in the middle of a North American tour only hours before they were supposed to go onstage in Texas.
"But the thing is they weren't really a band," Meek argues. "They were just the musicians that happened to be there at the right time. When I was being looked at by record companies, we just kinda got thrown together. It was like the record companies said: 'Travis, you need a band.' So it was like, 'Well, I know these guys I used to play with.'
Bassist Jesse Vest, drummer Matt Taul and guitarist Todd Whitener didn't really see it that way, and after Meeks stranded them in Texas with twenty-two days left to play, they reconfigured themselves into Carbon-14. They hired former Merge singer Hugo Ferreira and created an outfit that Travis insists sounds uncomfortably like early Days of the New, something he finds rather odd, since the band fought continually about Meek's decision to unplug their guitars and go for the grunge acoustically. "What's funny is their new band now is actually copying off our old Days, so they're trying to sound like Days, so they're not being very true to themselves."
Since that time, Meeks has filled their slots with lead guitarist Craig Wanderm drumer Ray Rizzo -- both from the Loiusville-based Java Men -- and added percussionist/singer Nicole Scherzinger to round out the sound. Meeks is still looking for a second guitarist and bassist before the band hits the road later this year.
Unlike Carbon-14, Meeks seems to have an inability to be anything but himself, and has once again bared his soul, foibles and deepest uncertainties in Days of the New's second release. "I fear everything," Meeks confides, "But the one thing that people do have to fear, I don't have -- that's exposing myself."
At least this time, while he was pulling down his metaphoric cargo pants he was doing the driving himself, having convinced Scott Litt -- who produced Days of the New's debut album and co-owns Outpost Recordings -- that he could produce this album on his own. So how did he do it? He began work on the album himself at the Distillery, when no one was around and played Litt the results.
"I wanted to do the first record," Meeks says. "But I didn't have the persuasiveness to get it done. My personality wasn't developed enough to say, 'Get out of my way,'" he explains, smacking the arm of the chair for emphasis. "I was just kind of sucked everything in and learned everything I could. Now I'm to this point and I'll probably always produce my records. As for our debut, let's just say the first record is an introduction and this is the first chapter. Let's just say that."
Meeks wrote all the songs, and played all the instruments on new album with the exception of "The Real" and "Last One," which were co-written by former bandmate Whitener. Despite vows to stay in touch, Meeks hasn't seen his former friends. "They think I'm an asshole. And actually, I'm not really an asshole. I'm defying and working with certain things that you just gotta accept that."
Especially since Meeks doesn't appear to be going anywhere soon. "I could be around as long as Aerosmith or Madonna," he says. "It could be the real thing for the next thirty years.
JAAN UHELSZKI (September 3, 1999)
