Everclear March 2003
by Chris Whyte
Art Alexakis is driving around his hometown of Portland, trying to park his car and conduct a cell phone interview while doped up on Demerol he's taking for a self-described "boy operation that needed to be done."
Although the Everclear frontman doesn't exactly reveal his ailment, only that "at 40 these things happen," he is rather candid about all other matters, even offering up a confession that the band's new record Slow Motion Daydream is likely their last.
And while Alexakis' explanation that the band is getting old, the band is getting tired and he wants to do something else (make a mellow acoustic record, direct indie movies, form a punk rock/dance- y/B-52s-with-a-harder-edge type band) may be a difficult swallow for hardcore fans, perhaps there's nothing wrong with quitting at the top of your game, which is where they're at with Daydream. Not that the disc is some sort of creative departure or daring leap for the band, Alexakis is very aware of "that Everclear sound," it's simply their most refined, carefully thought out, consistent record: 12 songs, 12 hits.
"I think it's the best record we've made," he says flatly. "I think it's better than Sparkle & Fade. A lot of old school Everclear fans are gnashing their teeth and spinning around swinging knives in the air and shouting things because I say that, but I don't really care. The whole band, we think this is the best thing we've ever done."
Indeed, all their ducks are in a row, from Craig Montoya's warm bass lines and enthusiastic back-up vocals to Greg Eklund's thumping, reliable drumming and Alexakis' thick power chord progressions and beat-down-but-still-optimistic lyrics. For every line like "slowly falling apart and falling down" there's a "life is always getting better" around the corner. Even Alexakis' trademark "yea-ah" is more prevalent than ever: 12 songs, 11 with "yea-ah."
Again, Alexakis is aware and unapologetic of his tendencies. "My producing partner Lars [Fox] said, `People are always making fun of you saying "yeah" when you sing,'" he says. "I'm not comparing myself to Otis Redding, but if you look at his records you'll hear a `yeah' in just about every song, too. It's an R&B thing. It's a Motown thing and I grew up listening to those singers. It just comes natural to me. It would feel unnatural for me not to do it on purpose because people think I do it too much."
In today's shaky political climate, lyrical inspiration isn't hard to find for a social cynic like Alexakis. He takes on John Ashcroft in the thinly-veiled "Blackjack" and America's post 9/11 warmongering in "New York Times."
"All I can do is hope that people are going to make changes," he says. "The people protesting this war are making me feel really good because people are not allowing themselves to be as complacent as they were over the last few years. I think it's phenomenal. I'm really proud, actually, and I told that to some kids the other day. I was walking through the park where the anti-war demonstrations were going on here in Portland and this punk rock kid recognized me. [He] kind of looked at me as `Mr. Sellout,' and he goes, `So what do you think about this, rock star?' and I go, `I'm really proud that this is going on in my city and my country, and I'm really proud of you. What do you think of that?' and he's like, `God, I don't know what to think of that.'"
Just as Everclear's music always seems to return to a sunny resolution, so does Alexakis' hope for society. "There are bad things that need to be addressed, but there are good things and there's the hope for good things," he says. "There's that possibility, that light at the end of tunnel, and I feel if you ever lose that, why even bother? Even in my life, which has been pretty shitty compared to a lot of people until the last few years, I never gave up. I knew it was going to get better, I knew I had to get clean. Instead of bitching, I figured I needed to do something to get better."
Twenty years ago may have been a pretty grimy time for the old street junkie, but Alexakis is a much different, older, wiser man these days, a family man. He kicked the drug addiction 19 years ago, kicked alcohol 15 years ago and finally, with the satisfaction of domestic life, is kicking the behavior problems that plague, according to him, so many of the artistic ilk.
"I honestly believe that most true artists, people who can create and produce good work, have definitely got depression and anxiety and a lot of these traits, especially obsessive-compulsive behavior," he says. "But that doesn't mean you're supposed to let it go rampant and feed it with drugs and alcohol and just let yourself go in self-destructive behavior. I don't believe you have to be self-destructive to be an artist. That's been a cop out of the music industry for years. They've wanted people like Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain so that they're easily controlled by their vices, by their misery.
"I've definitely gotten a handle on my anger and my obsessive- compulsive behavior over the last few years. Even though I wasn't doing drugs or using sex as a drug or all those things that I've done in the past many, many years ago, I still kept popping into this compulsive behavior and anger. I can be kind of intimidating sometimes and I don't want to intimidate people. I look hard at people and I don't turn away and that kind of makes people feel uncomfortable sometimes. So I'm learning how not to do that, unless it's a meeting with lawyers or people from the music busines... or journalists."
back to Slowmotion Daydream page
back to home page
