Since achieving liftoff as a founding member of Commander Cody’s Lost Planet Airmen back in the late 1960s, guitarist Bill Kirchen has been making his own brand of music, flattening the boundaries between country, rock ‘n’ roll, jazz, rockabilly – you name it – and grinning the whole time. What’s more, Kirchen’s weapon of choice has been the Telecaster – a guitar looked upon by some as limited in its sonic capabilities. Bill Kirchen has made a career out of proving that theory wrong, taking Leo Fender’s classic that was “born at the junction of form and function” to places way out there.
Kirchen’s newest album is called Seeds And Stems, offering a mix of originals, covers, and reworked old favorites We had the opportunity to talk with the man that Guitar Player named a “Titan Of The Telecaster” about Seeds And Stems, go-to axes, saving the world, and having too much fun.
BR: Bill, let me start off with a couple of thank-yous. First, thanks for many years of great tunes.
BK: Awww … well thank you. I just never decided what to do when I grew up, that’s all. (laughter)
And thank you for the inspiration to spin the control plate on my Esquire around to get that 3-way pickup switch away from my flailing right hand.
Oh, yeah! (laughs) I’m sure I saw someone do it and that’s where I got the idea. But I’ve been doing it so long now that it just seems right to me. That’s the only place that I have the inkling of an idea that I’m doing something better than Leo Fender did. (laughter) You have an Esquire? That’s cool, man.
Yeah, it’s a long story. I’d gone many years without an electric – just acoustics – but my wife surprised me on our anniversary with one of Fender’s ‘50s Reissue Esquires.
Oh, cool! You married well!
Oh, I know it.
That’s lovely man – I would’ve burst into tears.
Yeah, well … I was a mess, no doubt about it. (laughter)
Oh, good for you. I’ve often thought that I’d like to have an Esquire, but I’m kind of a middle-pickup guy. I’m just getting brave enough now to use just the bridge pickup if I can tame the thing. (laughs) I mean, let’s face it: the Telecaster is already stripped-down and the Esquire is like the hot rod version of that.
That’s right! (laughter) Okay, okay – we need to get focused on the new album here, ‘cause I could talk guitars with you all night.
Right, right – let’s bear down.
You got it. So … on Seeds And Stems … what was your go-to guitar?
There we go – now we’re focused! (laughter) That would’ve been my pine Tele with the Don Mare pickups. Rick Kelly made it out of 150-year-old pine – pine body and a pine neck with no truss rod. It’s as light as a feather. There’s a cool video that StewMac did of my buddy Dan Erlewine and I talking about it [see next page].
How about amps on the album?
I do have a go-to amp, but I didn’t have it in the studio for the sessions. I borrowed a friend’s Deluxe Reverb Reissue for a lot of the songs; I think I also used a 2×12 Hot Rod Deluxe on a few things … we went with whatever was around, you know?
When I got home, I would’ve used my Blackface Princeton with a 12” speaker and my Deluxe for any overdubs, but we actually didn’t do many on the electric stuff.
Which leads to the next question: there’s also some lovely acoustic guitar on the album. What did you use there?
On “Seeds And Stems” and “Swing Fever” I used a 1930s L-7 Gibson – not the huge one, it’s the smaller one. I think it was an L-7 … hang on – I got it right here … I can look in the hole.
Uhhh … I can’t see it. It says it’s a guitar, though! I like that. (laughter) Anyway, this Gibson and my Martin mid-60s 00-18 were my go-to acoustics.
There’s a great mix of originals and covers and rearranged Kirchen classics on Seeds And Stems. How’d you pick the tunes?
You know, it was easy, really: they were tunes that bubbled to the top of the soup pot – stuff from the live show that has lasted. We had to take a list of maybe 18 from the list of songs that have been the most requested at the live shows and whittle them down. Which was nice – we let the people do the choosing, you know?
Exactly. And if I have the story right, you and the band – bassist Maurice Cridlin and drummer Jack O’Dell – went into the studio hot in the middle of a UK tour, correct?
Yeah, we dovetailed it in between occasions in the middle of the tour. We showed up over there and the guy from Proper Records said, “Why don’t you guys do a studio record while you’re over here?” We had a lot of hours logged in together as a band and we wanted to take advantage of that tightness that you only get from doing that.
So that’s exactly what we did – mornings, afternoons, days off – whenever there was a chance during the tour.
A lot of driving, too – we were staying about an hour and a half or two hours away from the studio, so we spent a lot of time bouncing around in a van.
On the wrong side of the road, on top of that.
I know! It’s crazy the way they do that. (laughter)
How about we talk a few specifics about some of the tunes?
Sure!
I was tickled to hear “Too Much Fun” – that goes right back to where it all began, doesn’t it?
Yeah, that was a real early song that Billy Farlow and I wrote. Hey, I just want to tell you that I’m sorry we didn’t do “Tombstone Every Mile”.
Ha! “Tombstone Every Mile” was one of Dick Curless’ big hits – he’s one of our heroes up here in Maine from wayyyy back.
Yeah! That’s what I was thinking. I met his son when I played up there in Bangor years ago. The first album I ever made, that was the title track: “Tombstone Every Mile”. I’m a huge Dick Curless fan, man – I loved him.
Tunes such as “Semi-Truck” and “Seeds And Stems” have always had a way of bringing the reddest of rednecks and the furriest of freaks together.
Yeah, you’re right – that’s very well put. I think that’s why I wanted to honor those songs.
That’s what was special about the Cody band: we were deep into the deep end of country music, but we didn’t approach it with smirking or like we’d just found a hat, you know? We didn’t try to make it too precious – we tried to get right into it. I mean, we were aware of the irony and everything: we were a long-haired hippie band with some behavior that … well … who knows? (laughter) But we would win over deep country fans with that stuff.
It wasn’t like what The Byrds were doing, for instance – they had their own sound, which was great. We just had a different take on it.
I think one of the things that made it work was the fact that you were all great players. Even though the songs contained humor, you always took the music seriously.
You know, I just read an interview in Vintage Guitar with Bobby Black – he was Cody’s original pedal steel player. Bobby was 15 years older than us and was the best player in the band. I think everyone wanted to rise to that level if possible … none of us really did though. (laughter) He’s still great, man.
What sort of an audience mix do you get these days at your shows?
A big mix. Nowadays I tend to play for people who come to see me – you know what I mean? – compared to the days when I’d be playing places where people were going to wander in, as such. We get an awful lot of fans from the Cody days, but we also get a lot of people who’ve been exposed to this stuff for the first time through everything from satellite radio to the internet – which has made niche forms of music so much more accessible. You can find anything now on the internet.
Back to some more of the tunes on the album: “Womb To The Tomb” was a great song before, but your rearrangement here is one gritty piece of work. That solo is one of my favorites on the album.
Oh – oh … I better go back and learn it! (laughter) I’ll be playing and thinking, “Oh, Jesus – what did I do?” (laughter)
I guess I just got it in my mind that that was one of those tunes that I’d never really done justice. This is something I’d never really thought about, but “Womb To The Tomb” used to be an awful lot like “Truck Stop At The End Of The World” – or even “Semi-Truck”. It kind of hung in there; just one or two steps removed from “Six Days On The Road”, you know? I felt that the words on “Womb To The Tomb” could use a little more gravity or something – more than just ripping ‘em off in that fast, truck driving thing.
Living down here in Texas, I’ve had the luxury of playing over in Cajun country in Louisiana. Plus, I’ve been teaching at a camp at the Augusta Heritage Center in Elkins, WV and it just so happens that the Early Country Music Week I’m involved in coincides with the Cajun Week. I’m up there with all these wild-ass Cajun players, up all night howling at the moon – it’s fantastic! (laughs) I was sort of thinking in that direction: a Cajun waltz kind of vibe.
Cool! And then “Swing Fever” and “Flip Flop” are good examples of your inner hipster working its way out.
My inner hipster! (laughs) I like that! That’ll be our little secret.
I love that acoustic guitar weaving with the piano on “Swing Fever”.
Yeah – that was inspired by that big Gibson; I actually bought it off a guy at that camp up in West Virginia I was talking about. I think different guitars inspire you to play in different ways, you know?
Oh, for sure. I loved that line in “Swing Fever”: “Sittin’ here buzzin’ like a cheap TV.” To be honest with you, I’ll probably steal that for something someday.
Ha! You’re welcome to it. (laughs) I’ll tell you where that song came from: my wife’s sister was making western shirts for Ray Benson and Asleep At The Wheel and she had a dream, okay? She told me, “I just dreamt of this song called ‘Swing Fever’ and I’m going to give it to Ray.”
And I said, “No, you’re not! Give me that song!” (laughter) I snatched it off of her.
She had the title; and as far as that line “buzzin’ like a cheap TV” goes, well … I don’t know if cheap TVs buzz any more, do they?
Jeez, I haven’t owned a TV since 1995 …
Wow! That’s awesome. Good for you, man! We have one, but we never watch broadcast TV anymore – just Netflix.
Now here’s a serious question.
Okay. (clears throat) I’m ready.
Do you yourself want a “Rockabilly Funeral”?
(pause) Nah … (laughter) For one thing, the funeral wouldn’t be for me – it would be for whoever was around … so I have no ‘druthers, really. If I thought I’d be looking down on it, I’d be amused by the whole concept … but my confidence in what I know about the afterlife is very low at this point. (laughter) So … no, I wouldn’t want anyone to go to all that trouble. Thanks for asking, though.
You’re welcome.
If – if- anyone wants to grease their hair back at my funeral, though, that would be all right. (laughter) That would be like a nod to the rockabilly thing.
Well, I hope it doesn’t happen for a long time.
Me neither. (laughs) I’m glad we cleared it up, though. If anybody asks, you’ve got the answer.
“It Takes A Lot To Laugh” is sweet – damn sweet. You usually try to work some Dylan into your setlists, don’t you?
Yeah, I always play some Bob Dylan. I’m just the right age, man. I saw him at Newport in ’64. I’d already seen him at my high school in 1963 or early ’64 playing solo. I got Freewheelin’ when it came out. And then I got the first album the following Christmas (laughs): my dad gives me this Wagner record – a big purple thing. And I’m going “Oh, hey, Dad – that’s great … love it. Can’t wait to play this …” And, of course, I put it aside, right?
Then, at the dinner table, my dad’s like, “Aren’t you going to play your new record?”
I said, “Oh yeah … I, uh, forgot.” So I pull it out and he’d bought the first Dylan album for me and stuffed it in this Wagner cover! (laughter)
I don’t think people really understand why Dylan’s an icon unless they have the first 10 albums. I don’t even know Blood On The Tracks, actually – I’m sure it’s a great album, but those first ones …
Oh, I agree. I did a review of Dylan’s mono box set when it came out a couple of years ago and it was like rediscovering those early albums.
I’d love to hear that, man …
It was great. There’s a depth to mono that is actually lost in stereo.
Yeah, that’s right – that’s right. I should get my hands on that.
I had a copy of Dylan’s first album when I was 15 or so. I found one of those brown corduroy caps like he’s wearing on the cover and didn’t take it off for about a year.
Good for you, man – good for you! (laughs) Dan Erlewine – my buddy that I mentioned earlier – was one step ahead of me. We grew up together in Ann Arbor and he got the first Dylan album before anyone else in town did. And he got one of those hats, too! (laughter) You and Danny.
Listen: do you think if we could take all the world’s leaders, set them down in one place, and make them listen to “Truck Stop At The End Of The World” that it could straighten things out?
Oh, sure! (laughs) I think so. Here’s the problem: the world’s leaders simply haven’t thought things through, man. They haven’t done the math on what they messing around with. But that’s a good point – that song could … could … well, it could save the WHOLE WORLD! (laughter)
Super. We’ll put that out there and see if it catches on. Now, here’s another thought: I tried to do the quick math in my head to estimate how many times you’ve played “Hot Rod Lincoln” –
Oh, man … (laughs) I’ve probably played it … I guess you could safely say 200 times a year for 40 years, maybe? Sure. So that’s, what, 8000 times? I don’t know – I bet I’ve played it 10,000 times.
But when I hear it on this record, you guys are playing your asses off and having fun with it.
Oh, yeah! And people ask me, “Aren’t you sick of playing it?” And I almost feel guilty in a way that I’m not … it’s like if I was a real artist, I would be. (laughter)
But I’m totally not sick of it, and I’m delighted to have in my back pocket a song that people have loved for a long time. It’s a great song that’s tremendously fun to play.
It tickles me that on top of everything else you’re doing with all those quotes during “Hot Rod Lincoln” – everyone from Chuck Berry to Stevie Ray Vaughan to the Stones and Ray Charles – you’re doing it on what so many folks refer to as a “limited-sounding Telecaster.” You prove how wide of a range of sound can be drawn out of that beast.
That’s right – exactly. And there are a couple other side angles to that: first off, most of those sounds are being made by just a guitar plugged into an amp. Maybe by the time we hit the Stones and the Sex Pistols, I had an outboard distortion device going, but now I don’t remember.
Everybody worries about having millions of tones, but … if you have one good one, you’re ahead of 20 not-so-good ones, you know what I mean? You’re way ahead of that.
And then there’s the fact that so much tone is in your hands, as you and I both know. Your hands and your brain – that’s where the tone comes from. A Tele – or an Esquire – there’s a lifetime of tones there.
Exactly – just a fraction more of the tip of the pick out by the meat of your thumb …
That’s right! Right now, I use onboard reverb on the amp if I’ve got it; analog delay with a single repeat … just enough to give it some air. Sometimes I’ll have a clean boost; sometimes I’ll have something like a Tube Screamer for when the gloves are off and the subtleties are off and you’re just looking to kick it over the top one more notch. That’s all you need.
Doing the quotes during “Hot Rod Lincoln” and banging them out one right after the other, have you ever hit the wall, cracked yourselves up, and gone right into the weeds?
Once in a blue moon, the wheels will come off slightly – but it’s never been terminal. (laughter) Every now and then things will act like they’re starting to stall, but we roll on. There’s sort of an order, but there’s really no set order … I’ll mix it up just to make it so you’re up on two wheels with your fenders hitting the guardrails – just to keep it loose. (laughter)
I could certainly see paying tribute to BB King and Albert King and Freddie King and even Ben E. King … but when you got to the “Don King” moment, I said to myself, “He’s lost his mind right there.” (laughter) I mean, when you said that, what could you do? Grab a handful of hair?
Yeah, I played with one hand and grabbed a handful of hair with the other.
Not to mention Billy Jean King …
Yep. “His mind’s snapped like an old rubber band – it was bound to happen sooner or later, ladies and gentlemen …” (laughter)
“Talkin’ About Chicken”: I don’t know if there’s an award for combining filth and wholesomeness, but if there is, that song should win it, hands down.
I know! (laughs) Here’s the backstory on that: my wife Louise and I had been writing songs with Sarah Brown, who’s also a great bass player – she was the house bass player at Antone’s down in Austin, for one thing. Sarah had flown up to where we were living and we’d spent all day writing. My wife had bought us a chicken feed – one of those cooked chickens you get at the store, you know? We’d been eating this chicken all day and feeding the scraps to my dog and we’ve got a bunch of songs that we’ve done … and now we’re all exhausted and about to go to bed.
Sarah’s scratching my dog Rufus and she’s saying, “Boy, Rufus, this is your lucky day.”
And I said, “Yeah, you don’t usually get chicken.”
And Sarah says, “I was talking about the love.”
And I said, “Well, I was talking about the chicken.”
BOOM! We wrote that thing in about half an hour, minus the bridge – laughing hysterically the whole time, seeing who could come up with the naughtiest couplet. I think my wife won with “Stir the gravy until it starts to thicken.” (laughs)
All right, all right – that’s enough. I’m not going to pursue this line of questioning any further. Stop right there. (laughter) How did Jorma Kaukonen end up on that tune?
I teach at Jorma’s Fur Peace Ranch. I knew him back in the day when we used to do a lot of gigs with Hot Tuna and we used to pal around together a little bit. I hadn’t seen him for decades and about ten years or so ago he had me come up to the ranch to teach. Jorma’s a great guy – he has me up when they do the annual Beacon Theater show in New York. He’s fantastic.
When I started out on guitar, I was doing that sort of fingerpicking – wanting to be like John Hurt and all those guys. That style was always fascinating to me – and it was Jorma’s background, as well.
You’re right: I’ve had the pleasure of interviewing both he and Jack Casady … they’re just sweethearts.
You got it.
So you have plenty of shows coming up, as usual.
Oh, yeah. We’re working hard – we’re everywhere, man. I mean, last year we played gigs in Palestine and Lapland. (laughs) But it’s hard to get everywhere you’d like to.
I hear you … but get up here to Maine.
Ha! All right!
Bill, thank you for taking the time to do this today. Beyond the “official” part of this, it’s a big treat for me to get to talk to you.
Man, it’s great to talk to someone who’s obviously as passionate as I am about all this crazy shit. You never know who’s going to be on the phone, but this has been delightful for me, too. You’re a good egg.
*****
Brian Robbins parks his semi-truck over at www.brian-robbins.com
