The Oregonian; Interview with Art Alexakis
Marty Hughley March 7, 2003
"I'm a knee-jerk liberal," Art Alexakis says. "I'm not trying to hide that."
Those who've followed the career of the Everclear frontman hardly would expect him to hide how he feels. Alexakis contends that few of his songs have been as strictly autobiographical as the media have taken them to be. But there's no doubt he has drawn on his background as a thrill-seeking, drug-taking kid from the poor side of Santa Monica to create compelling rock 'n' roll about the everyday struggles and strivings of those for whom life doesn't come easily.
His own strivings have taken him to, in succession, sobriety (14 years and counting), Portland, a formidable band with bassist Craig Montoya and drummer Greg Eklund, and platinum-selling stardom.
Now, as a 40-year-old husband and father, he's increasingly thinking about the world around him and including that wider context into his songs. Everclear's new album, "Slow Motion Daydream," due in stores Tuesday, not only rocks more assuredly than any of its work since "So Much for the Afterglow," it adds a political dimension that brings Alexakis' songwriting to a new level.
"When I make records, I don't think of any underlying themes," Alexakis says over an early Saturday-morning breakfast. "When I'm halfway through it, I take a break from it, then go back and listen and really find out what's there. I think that's the organic way to do it, letting the record tell you what it's about."
"Slow Motion Daydream" apparently told Alexakis that it's about the emotional realities of life in a time of global terrorism, constricted civil liberties, child abuse and a rocky economy.
Alexakis is outspoken about his liberal politics. "The Bushes, as a family, really love recessions," Alexakis says dryly. "It really seems that way.
"I know the Democratic Party is not a bunch of saints; I think they're the lesser of two evils. And that's what we need right now. We need someone who's talking about the real issues."
He disputes the charge made by another local paper that he didn't vote in the past two elections, and he encourages young people to "Take a night off from going to the bars and read your Voters' Pamphlet."
He's says he tells his young daughter, who is naturally absorbing his view of things, that Republicans are good people, too. "I tell her that everybody's people and everybody makes decisions." So he doesn't hate Republicans, but he still makes fun of them, as in the porn stars turned "blonde, bland middle-class Republican wives" in Everclear's single "Volvo Driving Soccer Mom."
"I'm a social gadfly," Alexakis says. "I'm a writer; it's my job to make fun of the people I don't agree with. We got in trouble for that in school -- now we get paid for it."
But however darkly Alexakis sees the current political climate, his songs, as usual, manage a stubborn, defiant optimism. He points out that the unhappy cynic in the album-opening "How to Win Friends and Influence People" reappears by record's end in "The New York Times" with a new view. "He sees the game, but he knows there's a light at the end of the tunnel. And that's there in all our records. Because I know that's the case. Sometimes it's hard to find. But you have to have faith that it's there."
Faith might not be an idea you'd immediately associate with a tattooed ex-junkie rock star, but in a way it undergirds the perseverance that is a major theme of Everclear's songs.
"I've strayed from a lot of principles, but I've always believed," he says when describing himself as a Christian. "And as I've gotten older and become a parent, I've focused more on that part of my life."
Then a sly smile creases his face.
"At the same time, the more money I've gotten, the more liberal I've become."
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