DAVE STREET’s in the Wild [1981]

Text by Nancy Foster / FFanzeen fanzine, 1981

Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen blog, 2017

Images from the Internet

This interview was originally printed in FFanzeen, issue #7, dated 1981. It was written by a Nancy Foster, whose Facebook page is kurrently Kandy Kabot.

Dave Street is an odd duck, and I say that with affection. Sure he was a New York-based punk rock stand-up comic back in the day, but he was also a fan and hung out with some of the illuminous stars in the scene. When this interview occurred, it was while he was working at Natasha’s Clothing Store on St. Mark’s Place when it was still cool. This is an insider’s story about hanging out on the scene.

In the period after the interview, he would go on to appear on Uncle Floyd and The Joe Franklin Show and write songs with Bobby Steele and the Undead which still continues. Lately, he works on environmental projects, and is in the process of making a horror film titled Monster Bizzness. Along with other not-for-profit causes such as programs for teenagers in homeless shelters and detention centers, he still writes and performs at various events. – RBF, 2017

FFanzeen: What was the most memorable thing about your writing period?

Dave Street: Trying to get paid as a freelance writer. That is why I ended up working in the store [Natasha; 1 St. Mark’s Place, NYC – RBF, 1981]. You don’t get paid when you write freelance. Also, interviewing Frank Zappa and trying to avoid the Editor-in- Chief…

FFanzeen: After that, you didn’t really want to be connected with writing anymore – you wanted to be involved with something else, like acting?

Dave: I had a punk acting company. We were called Robot Factory. That was before I was funny. That was when I was still negative and violent. We used to go onstage and give people cancer.

FFanzeen: Where did you do your act?

Dave: Our big thing was that we went onstage before the Dead Boys and the Cramps in Hollywood, on the closing night of the Masque (Club).

FFanzeen: When did you first start doing comedy? Did you tell jokes in school? Were you like a class clown?

Dave: No, actually, I’ve led a very painful life, to the point where I was either going to hang it up, literally, or start laughing at myself. I was forced to become a comedian just to be able to deal with my own miserable existence. Sniff, sniff, whine, whine.

FFanzeen: Oh, that’s one of those lines like, “Live been asexual for 5 years!”

Dave: I have. No, that really is the truth. At different points I have hated myself, my parents, my family, my employers and everybody else in the world. Not wanting to be a hateful person, the only alternative I had to hating was laughing. This is a very sombre conversation.

FFanzeen: Who are some of your favorite comedians?

Dave: Lenny Bruce, Bill Cosby, Bob Hope, Mort Sahl, Dick Gregory, Groucho Marx. I’m sure I forgot a few of them, but those are my main ones. Bob Newhart. Yeah, those are my main comical influences. I listened to a lot of old stand-up comedy albums from the ‘50s and ‘60s.

FFanzeen: Do you listen to comedy albums more than you listen to rock’n’roll?

Dave: Now I do, but I used to always listen to rock’n’roll. I’ve only started listening to comedy albums over the last year. It took me about half a year just to get a collection. One thing that is interesting about collecting comedy records is that the comedy records that you can learn much from, like the most radical comedians who are the most against the system, their records cost more than anybody else’s to buy.

FFanzeen: Like who, for instance?

Dave: Mort Sahl, Dick Gregory, Lenny Bruce – their albums cost about $30. But you find a Marx Brothers album and it’ll cost you about $5.

FFanzeen: Do you think that Lenny Bruce was killed? Some people think he was given a hot shot.

Dave: Yeah, they killed him because he was a junkie.

FFanzeen: You get any ideas for routines from living with your boss?

Dave: I sure do! It is a super real reality. What could be the epitome of the worst possible working relationship than living with your boss?! Especially if you want to do something else with your life. It’s depressing and depression makes me funny. Of course, if I wasn’t depressed all the time, I wouldn’t have to be funny. This not just living with my boss; it’s living with and simultaneously trying to avoid…

FFanzeen: When and where was the first time you did your comedy act?

Dave: Before I did my comedy act, I did a one-man show last Fall at Hurrah’s called I am the Center of the Universe. This was an extension of what I had done with the punk acting company. It was like a violent confrontation of self and the whole “Me! Me! Me!” ego of the 70s.

FFanzeen: Did you abuse the audience?

Dave: Yeah. A writer from the New York Post asked me, wouldn’t everybody else and I be happier if I made people laugh with the same energy instead of trying to project my own unhappiness onto the audience and trying to make them as unhappy as I was? …Anyway, I started to think about it and started writing stand-up routines. A month later, I did my first gig at 5 AM at Studio Zero.

FFanzeen: What was the audience’s reaction when you first started this?

Dave: It was like, “Who do you think you are?!” The audience reaction was like one big beer bottle thrown at me.

FFanzeen: Does that mean they like you?

Dave: That means I got a reaction from them anyway, which is better than having them walk away. No one walked away, but a lot of people were antagonized. A lot of people didn’t think what I was saying was funny. They thought it was insulting. A lot of people who share the same pain as I do wanted to laugh at it. But there are others that don’t want to be reminded of it at all. So when I make jokes about it, their attitude is, “I don’t want to hear about that!” The funny thing is that they have that attitude until they meet me. People who threw bottles at me would come in the store with a friend and say, “Hey! I’m the guy who threw the beer bottle at you last week.” And I’d say, “Gee! Thanks! Why’d you do that.” And they’d say that they didn’t agree with what I was saying, but added, “Now that I know you, I’m doing to laugh and I’m going to beat up anyone who does throw a beer bottle!” Note the fact that they still might not agree with me, but the fact that they don’t agree with me has nothing to do with it anymore because they know who I am!

FFanzeen: So, what does that have to do with anything? That you should make friends with the audience so you won’t get killed?

Dave: It shows that the solution is to perform less and throw more parties. I should throw a party before every performance so that everyone knows me. Then, by the time I go on, the whole audience will like me.

FFanzeen: Who was the comedian who opened for the Rockats at the Rock Lounge?

Dave: I don’t talk about other comedians. It is against my principles to talk about anybody who is not helping my career. The only comedian who is helping my career is Tessie Chua, whose movie I am in. I’ve done a film called The Scary Truth About Roaches and Landlords [could not find any reference to the film – RBF 2017], in which I play a deranged tenant, in case you haven’t seen it. It was at the Mudd Club [d. 1983 – RBF, 2017]. Steve Mass [Mudd Club’s owner – RBF, 1981] plays the landlord. He’s one of the main characters. In my scene, I play off Steve Mass. I, of course, have always had a lot of arrogance towards the very premise of the Mudd Club’s existence, so I had a lot of fun working with Steve. I felt a lot of natural hostility in a friendly way [hunh? – NF, 1981] that kind of made it work.

FFanzeen: A love/hate relationship?

Dave: Yeah, it’s like knowing I belong there, but being opposed to being there ideologically [hunh? – NF, 1981]. I am opposed to the fact that there’s someone at the door telling people that they can’t come in [I agreed then and now – RBF, 2017].

FFanzeen: That’s not happening now. They are courting the non-hipsters now, dahling.

Dave: They didn’t let me in last week. I work so hard – 10 hours of the day, every day of the week – and I’m usually too tired to go out at night. But I went there after not being out for about four months, and the doorman didn’t believe that I was Dave Street; so, he didn’t let me in – not because he didn’t know who Dave Street was, but because he thought I was using Dave Street’s name to try and get into the Mudd Club free.

FFanzeen: You should have said you were Gloria Vanderbilt! Oh, I heard that you had a little confrontation with Deborah Harry at the Mudd Club.

Dave: I wish I had. I don’t think I have achieved that world importance yet.

FFanzeen: Tell me about the David Johansen film, Thau in Love [never officially released – RBF, 2017].

Dave: I’m in two brief shots. I might be on the screen two minutes if I’m lucky. But I had a lot of fun working with David. I think David is brilliant at setting up the premise of action – the way he assembled people and set up situations really make it work well.

FFanzeen: Did he write the script, or is he just directing?

Dave: Yeah, he wrote it. I don’t know about other people’s roles, but my script was somewhat improvised – not the storyline, but the actual verbal interaction was partially ad-libbed. I’m in a short shot where I play myself. I come into Marty Thau’s [Red Star Records – RBF, 1981; d. 2014 – RBF, 2017] office. I tell him obnoxious jokes and he blows smoke in my face. In the next scene, I’m a go-go boy.

FFanzeen: What do you wear as a go-go boy?

Dave: I just dressed as a regular person. I just danced funny. As a result of that, I’m working on a whole routine about dancing funny, and I’m in Clem Burke’s video of the Colors, doing the same thing.

FFanzeen: So, you’re broadening your career options? How did you get connected with Johansen?

Dave: He called me up at the store. I do an impersonation of David, too. I do a “Pray-Tell Records” ad which pokes fun at the commercialization of New Wave songs: “Twelve of the greatest unoriginal New Wave hits!” I do David Jo’s grandson doing, “Punky But Weak” [mocking a soulful yet spiritually wracked voice]: “I got a black eye that somebody gave me / When I got into a fight and nobody would save me / I’m punky, punky but weak…” I do that in the film, too, but I might be cut. One never knows what’s going to happen in the editing room. We all know the politics of film are often more important than the actual performances. You can do a great performance and the editor might not like you for personal reasons.

FFanzeen: Do you do spoofs on other rock’n’roll people?

Dave: I do funny marriages. Like if Rachel Sweet married Nick Lowe, she’d be Rachel Sweet’n Lowe. In which case, the FCC would probably find out that listening to her music causes cancer and all her records would have to be taken off the shelves. If Bette Midler married Eddie Money, she’d be Bette Money, but don’t bet your life and never bet more than you can avoid paying back. If Cherry Vanilla married Iggy Pop, she’d be Cherry Pop.

FFanzeen: Yum-yum.

Dave: Fizz, fizz. We completed that routine, anyway.

FFanzeen: Would you ever be part of a comedy duo?

Dave: Occasionally I do do things like that with other people that I can play off of; I’m working on a film script right now with some young people, including Rip Torn’s daughter, Angelica Torn [known as Angelica Page after 2010 – RBF, 2017], and her boyfriend, Joe Witty. It’s going to be a rock’n’roll East Side Kids sort of comedy. It should be about a one hour video.

FFanzeen: When did you get connected with the local rock’n’roll scene?

Dave: I was still living in New Jersey in 1975 [as he does now – RBF, 2017], but I was coming to see the Ramones from the first week they played [1974 – RBF, 2017]. I was hanging out in the scene from the very beginning. I was coming to see the Dolls in the glitter days. I was going to see the Mothers [of Invention] when they were cool, back in 1965. I’m 30 years old and I’ve been coming to New York City since I was 14, seeing these 35 year old guys hanging out in rock’n’roll clubs talking to pretty girls and I said, now I know what I want to do when I’m 35! I don’t want to be a doctor, I don’t want to be a lawyer; I want to hang out in rock’n’roll clubs and talk to pretty girls!

FFanzeen: Do you get a lot of disco-babies coming into the store?

Dave: I sell the exact same clothes to disco people as I sell to punks. Disco people say, “I want these clothes so nobody will say, I’m punk,” and the punks say, “I want these clothes so nobody will say I’m disco.”

FFanzeen: What do you like to do for fun when you’re away from the store?

Dave: I’m not allowed to have fun.

FFanzeen: What about when the two go-go girls came in the store and raped you?

Dave: They broke my year-long asexuality. I said I had sex with them; I didn’t say I had fun with them. I felt an obligation to give in, but I didn’t feel any obligation to have fun. When I get drunk and insult people at the Mudd Club is the only time I ever have fun.

Punk Fashion: Betsey Johnson and Natasha [1980]

Betsey Johnson by Sherri Beachfront / FFanzeen fanzine, 1980

Natasha by Julia Masi / FFanzeen fanzine, 1980

Introduction © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016

Images from the Internet unless indicated

These fashion articles were was originally printed in FFanzeen, issue #5, dated August / September 1980, in the centerfold pages 18-19.

The piece on Betsey Johnson was written by the singer of the band Get Wet, who should have been much bigger than they were, and came thisclose. I had the pleasure to see them perform many times, which was always a joy, be it at the Ritz, s.n.a.f.u., Max’s Kansas City, or any of the other clubs they’d be playing. Sherri exclusively wore Johnson’s togs, especially when she was on stage. I even had the honor to interview Sherri and her then partner, Zecca, at their flat in the West Village around this time.

The one on Natasha was written by Julia Masi, a fashion maven in her own right, who was the Managing Editor of FFanzeen at the time. Natasha’s store was right on St. Mark’s Place, and her staff included the stand-up comic and author Dave Street. The first time I met Natasha was when I interviewed the band Bleu Ocean for the very first issue of FFanzeen in 1977, after they played at the opening of the ill-fated Elgin Theatre; she was hanging around their loft.

The major differences between these two now-fashion icons is that Johnson’s work was very frou-frou, with tons of frills, puffs and lace, and Natasha’s was definitely designed to be more gritty and geared toward band- (and fan-) wear, such as leather, lycra, and spandex.

What they have in common, however, is a love of music, which is represented in their particular styles. Both are focused on rock’n’roll, and had their lynchpin groups, with Johnson being adopted by the Velvet Underground, and Natasha by the New York Dolls. Their influence would speak volumes, especially with the underground scene of New York in the late 1970s and well into the 1980s. – Robert Barry Francos, 2016.

BETSEY JOHNSON

By Sherri Beachfront

Betsey Johnson

I am not a writer. I am a singer in a band called Get Wet. For those of you who have seen me (whether it be on stage or off), you have undoubtedly seen me wear the clothes made by fashion designer Betsey Johnson. I am a fan of Betsey’s, which brings me to why I am writing instead of singing today.

At a recent fashion show at the Fashion Institute of Technology (F.I.T.) [which I attended – RBF, 2016], Betsey Johnson’s fashions were shown, and received with much enthusiasm by fellow future designers, students and teachers alike, and more new Betsey fans gathered together once again to order some of her newest Summer and Fall looks. Her colors: pink and blue stripes, black and yellow stripes, and pink and black stripes, just to name a few. The designs range from stripped sweater dresses with matching knit helmet hats, to my favorite, a plastic see-through dress with black fake fur only in the most needed places.

Her fashions are hard to resist. They’re so outrageous, so creative and so much fun, just like Betsey Johnson.

Betsey grew up in Connecticut and came to New York City in the psychedelic and electric ‘60s. Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and the Doors. Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll were very evident, with much of America’s youth at war in Viet Nam.

Where was Betsey? She was designing clothes for a store called Paraphernalia in The Village. Bursting with her first creative rushes, Betsey started making hip-hugger mini-skirts and t-shirt dresses. The girls of the ‘60s were dressing Mod in white go-go boots, wearing fake eye-lashes, slicker lipsticks (hurray, Twiggy!) and rock’n’roll was Max’s Kansas City. Betsey loved the Max’s scene, dressing up in her silver mini-skirt, gluing on those lashes, putting on that eye glitter, and don’t forget your silver tap shoes!

The Velvet Underground wasn’t only packing Max’s but also got Betsey packing her suitcases and traveling with the band, making their costumes. “Rock’n’roll is behind all my ideas,” Betsey told me. “If I dress to a certain record and then change the record, my clothes don’t look right. I have to change my clothes again just to fit the music.”

Betsey came back to New York and moved into the famed Chelsea Hotel (a hotel of many stories). She tried to get work, but no one would hire her, even though her ideas were wonderful and many of the better known companies were already copying her designs; they were afraid to hire a young designer coming out of the rock’n’roll, drug-influenced ‘60s.

Sherri wears Betsey (pic by RBF)

Betsey got fed up and she went out West to look for work. She found a place to live (next to San Quentin Prison – what an experience!) and heard of a designer job that was open in a company called Alley Cat.

A new and different Betsey Johnson look was created at Alley Cat. Sweet, sexy and flowery. The apple pie country girl with brains. How ‘70s! The natural look. Either you didn’t wear any make-up at all or you could barely see it. The ‘70s was the end of the Viet Nam war, back to earth health foods and finding the security of home again. Home for Betsey was New York, so she returned to the city to open a store called Betsey, Bunky and Nini, where Betsey brought her variety of country girl looks. Most of Betsey’s work in the ‘70s was as a freelance designer.

A new era began for Betsey Johnson as motherhood gave her a new inspiration: a baby girl named Lulu. With all this new involvement in her life, Betsey started designing kids’ clothes and called it Betsey Johnson’s Kids. It was the happiest work she recalled doing in the ‘70s. Betsey was still fighting to prove herself as a hard-working, serious designer and it was getting frustrating. In the fall of 1977, Betsey just quit!

And then the magic began with Betsey and Chantal, a friend of hers who was in the business as a model, decided to go into business together.

On August 10, 1978, Betsey Johnson was in business. Using day-glow neon spandex and red and black lycrex, Betsey was working for a timeless look. Tight corset tops and baggy pants that were tight at the ankles. Tight and loose shapes that could be worn together. Jerri Hall and Pat Cleveland were among the high-fashion models that strutted Betsey’s fashions from her SoHo loft, down the runway into Macy’s, Bloomingdale’s, Fiorucci, and even a television appearance on The Merv Griffin Show. Finally, Betsey’s clothes were really out there in the stores. Finally, the recognition and acceptance that she needed from the garment industry bosses.

The late ‘70s found Betsey Johnson at CBGBs, where a new era was taking shape: punk!

Betsey’s clothes for the ‘80s are strongly influenced by that CBGBs scene, and the now futuristic look that the ‘80s seem to give off. The ‘80s are reminiscent of the ‘60s in many ways. With the world conflict and war being contemplated every day in the news, rock’n’roll is exploding on the scene again. However, the ‘80s brings us its own discoveries, like the much awaited video-disc. The ‘80s will be visual and electric and Betsey Johnson is on the pulse of its energies.

Betsey is currently doing costumes for Peter Wolf of the J. Geils Band, dressed the girls who work at the amazing new club, the Ritz, and yours truly, Sherri Beachfront (I need an extra room just for my tutus).

Let’s bring out the colors for the ‘80s, be bright and let all the positive energies that you have emerge. We need them in the ‘80s, just like we need rock’n’roll; just like we need Betsey Johnson [Betsey Johnson’s store was at 150 Thompson Street, in SoHo – RBF].

NATASHA

By Julia Masi

Natasha

Natasha speaks in a soft, sultry voice. The words flow quickly and she smiles often as she talks about the clothes she designs. “Some people say a lot of my things are futuristic,” but she prefers to describe them as “a vamp look.”

Her own looks, which in another time will be considered the epitome of elegance, are quite striking. Naturally, Natasha wears her own designs exclusively. Her long brown hair is tinted with magenta highlights. Two-tone triangles of make-up outline each of her clear, brown feline eyes. Her thin features and high cheekbones are the type you’d expect to see on a glossy fashion magazine cover, but Natasha’s concept of style is light years ahead of the Seventh Avenue crowd.

“I prefer a curvy model rather than just a straight, toothpick model. Movement is very important to my models, because when we do a fashion show we do it to music.” Natasha acknowledges that fashion is influenced by music. This is especially true of her own professional career, which was launched in the early ‘70s when she started designing costumes for the New York Dolls. [Note: Natasha responded to this reprint, saying, "I did clothes for Arthur Killer Kane of the New York Dolls and did for Joey Ramone, the Magic Tramps and many others as they would shop in my store, and custom made for others..." - RBF, 2016.] “I don’t really get influenced by other designers,” she said. “But there is one designer from the ‘60s that I do relate to: Collette.”

Although Natasha’s collection does include a wide variety of miniskirts and colorful sleeveless tops, reminiscent of the Mod era, her clothes are definitely not retro. She is best known for slinky spandex dresses, shirts and pants, and fishnet jumpsuits that let every curve show through the fabric.

Her clothes are not only for women, though. She has designed dozens of tuxedo-style jackets with art deco prints, as well as vinyl jackets and unique accessories.

“As we go into the ‘80s,” Natasha speculates, “we’re going to get more into future wear. Not costumey things, but functional things for traveling in outer space,” she smiles, “and different kinds of things for here on earth. Because the earth is definitely changing.”

Natasha is very much aware of the changing world around her. Recent political situations have inspired her to unveil her own version of the military look, which will be invading her store at 1 St. Mark’s Place, this Fall.

PHILIP GLASS: A Touch of Class

Text by Dave Street
Interview © 1983 by FFanzeen
Images from the Internet

The following article on composer / musician Philip Glass was originally published in FFanzeen magazine, issue #11, in 1983. It was conducted by Dave Street.
Philip Glass is a modern musical phenomenon. At the same time he is sort of a modern Beethoven, an innovative classical composer who has challenged the traditional classical music world, and has simultaneously had an affect on contemporary rock’n’roll, as a producer and friend with many of the new music bands and musicians. He’s discussed music with the likes of David Bowie and Brian Eno, and produced LPs by two new pop bands, Polyrock and the Raybeats. Unlike any classical composer, he also frequents New York’s rock’n’roll club scene in search of new talent and ideas.

He has also attracted a lot of young people to classical music as well. At his recent brilliant sold-out concert at Carnegie Hall, there were even a few pop, punk, and New Wave musicians in the audience. His new album, Photographer, is one of the few classical LPs ever to hit the pop music charts. In this interview he talks about his music, rock’n’roll, and his life as an artist in America.

FFanzeen: What affect has pop music had on your own compositions?
Philip Glass: It’s generally something I’m very familiar with and live with all the time. My kids listen to it all the time. And often they’re listening to people who are friends of mine. One specific way it works, too, is that we’re often using the same technology of a recording studio. We’re working with the same kind of equipment that rock bands do. We use overdubbing and we use 24 tracks.

FF: Is that new in classical music?
Philip: It’s not done in classical music. The way classical music gets recorded is they think of a record as a sonic photograph. When they record a string quartet, it’s like taking a photograph of a string quartet. They record it as a performance. And from our point of view it’s like a very primitive way of working. When we do a record, we think of the record as a completely different thing form the performance, so we do it by doing just the basic tracks the way a rock band does. We’ll put on the keyboard tracks first, then we add the wind tracks and the vocal tracks. I can pretty definitely say that simply does not happen in classical music.

FF: So you’ve adapted the modern rock technology to your recordings?
Philip: Well, they grew up at the same time. In 1970, we began with an eight-track machine. Fifteen years ago, you didn’t have a 24-tradck machine. We have mastered the technology at the same time as other people were doing it. So I could talk to someone like Brian Eno about how he records this or that. Or talk to David Bowie about how he works in the studio.

FF: Has the traditional classical world held it against you for working the way you do?
Philip: They’ve held everything against me. The only thing they wouldn’t hold against me would be if I took a job teaching harmony at some jerk-water conservatory. But the main thing I’ve done that allies me more with pop music is that I actually play my music. I don’t just write music and send it out for other people to play. Except when someone’s doing a big opera, I’m there on stage playing the music.

FF: Aren’t your recordings shorter than most classical compositions as well; perhaps another influence of pop music?
Philip: Some are and some aren’t. Einstein on the Beach lasted five hours.

FF: But that was a spectacle unto itself.
Philip: Well, in some cases I’ve made shorter pieces with the hope that I’ll get on the radio a little bit more. And sometimes that has happened. But generally, pieces like Glass or the Photographer can be 20 minutes. A Mozart symphony is only about 18 minutes long.

FF: What kind of music did you listen to when you were growing up as a young boy?
Philip: My father had a record store. In fact, when my brother and I were only 15, my father put us in our own record store in East Baltimore. And we had our own rhythm and blues record store. So we listened to everything from “Ghost Riders in the Sky” to Elvis Presley. I was still working there when Presley came out. So from the point of view of someone who was selling records at the time, I was really seeing the birth of rock’n’roll.

FF: Did you play rock’n’roll yourself at first?
Philip: No, I never did. I’ve never played popular music. And the funny thing is I’m working more with it now than I ever did before. I think the thing to remember is that I come from a tradition of notated music. In other words, music that is written down. And that’s really a tradition. When you talk about music the question is: do you improvise the music or are you playing things that you’ve written? I’m a guy who plays things that I’ve written. Of course, this has made me helpful to some of my friends in the pop world who don’t’ really read and write music. Like when I’m working with the Raybeats or Polyrock, people who generally work in written-down material. I can write things for them. For example, if they decide to bring in voices to put on top of something I can write the voice parts down. Stuff like that. That’s a very useful skill that helps when I work in pop projects. Which is something I really like to do. First of all, it’s a lot of fun to work with pop bands, and secondly, I might make money on it. Money’s important.

FF: Does it take longer to achieve financial success in classical music than in rock’n’roll?
Philip: It takes never in classical music. The only way you can make money in classical music is by teaching. You don‘t make it from writing music. When I was a student at Julliard, my teacher was a very well known composer. He did a lot of music. I asked him how much money he made from his publishing. He looked at me and said, “Forget it. You’ll never make a living writing music. Get it out of your head right now.” And, of course, I never did. But most classical musicians don’t’ make a living out of it.

FF: Do you make money playing out?
Philip: Not so much playing out. I make it on commissions. Like an opera company asking me to write them an opera. I make it from what they call “mechanical rights” from record sales. Or from “synchronization rights.” For example, like in the new remake of the movie Breathless, they’re using some of my music in it. It’s the new Richard Gere movie. That’s called a “synchronization right’; when any time music is synchronized with an image in video or film, that synchronization. The “mechanical rights” mean any time it’s on record. There are called the “subsidiary rights” that go along with a pieced of music. The performance rights are very little. Actually, when I go on tour, I pay the band members and I pay myself the same, but I don’t actually make money from that. Those kinds of things are to sell records and establish a presence in the record world.

FF: Do you enjoy playing out?
Philip: I do. I enjoy the playing. And I enjoy being in different cities. I didn’t enjoy the things in-between, like the bus rides or the plane rides. I don’t like being in 14 different hotel rooms on 14 different nights. I don’t particularly like the Howard Johnsons, which are all the same. The eating and sleeping, which is most of what touring is about, is kind of boring. What I do like is going to a town where I haven’t been before, like Santa Fe, and seeing a theater packed with people and playing music for them.

FF: Did you have to suffer much before you started being able to support yourself as a musician?
Philip: I was about 30 when I formed the Philip Glass Ensemble. We called it PGE for short. I had gotten out of college and lived in Europe for a while, and I had won a lot of prizes as a student, so I actually didn’t have to work hard until I was 30, because I had won so many prizes from grants and stuff like that. Then I completely changed the way I wrote music to what is recognizable as wheat I do now. And then the grants stopped totally. Is started the PGE that time and I’d say it took about 10 to 12 years of doing other kinds of work to support myself while I was trying to make a career from writing music. I don’t consider that very long. Twelve years isn’t very long when you consider that what I was doing was virtually unprecedented. The other thing is, I don’t mind it very much.

FF: You didn’t mind having to work a day job?
Philip: I liked it. I was a plumber for three years and I enjoyed that.

FF: And you were still doing your music at the same time?
Philip: I always had the music, because I had to write music for my band. I wrote at night or during the days I didn’t work. I worked for a moving company about 10 days a month; the 5 days at the beginning of the month and the 5 days at the end of the month. That’s when people move their furniture. I worked real hard for about 10 or 12 days and then spent the rest of my time writing music. And then I drove a cab for about 5 years, and I liked that. The thing is, I never thought that I was suffering. If I thought I was suffering, I probably would’ve had a hard time. But I liked being out on the street, meeting people, driving my car around; New York is a circus.

FF: So it took you about 12 years before you were a self-supporting musician?
Philip: That’s right, but I don’t think that’s very long. The trick about all these jobs is that they were transient. My first job I was working for a friend of mine. He was a plumber. And he was sensitive to my being a performer. And if I had to leave town and tour for a month, they’d let me go. And with cab driving, I’d just go up to the dispatcher at the garage and say, “I’ve got to visit my mother in Toledo. I’ll be back in a month.” And they didn’t care. These are all transient jobs. They are jobs that have no future, no security, and therefore there’s a big turnover. You can drop in and drop out of a job. So what I did is that. I would go on tour, and usually I would lose money in those days. I’d come back from our tour about $2000 in dept, and I’d work until I paid off the debt.

FF: You were known and famous in Europe at this same time?
Philip: We were known in Europe very well. We had played in Europe from 1970 to 1976, and very little in America. People in Europe had no idea that I was going home and driving a cab. Because in Europe, they support their artists as if it’s a real sort of profession. A composer there would never consider working as a night porter or a salesman in a dress shop. They would get money from the government. There’s a different respect for the arts there. Not that it’s always good. Basically, what we like in this country is television and sports. Our main entertainment is television, sports and movies. When you get into being an artist, you’re dealing on the fringe of society. Except for a few stars who support themselves, there’s no system to support creative people here. But when I went to Europe, they had no idea what I was doing here to make ends meet. In the garage where I worked, it was filled with painters and writers. This is generally how people do it in America. And it’s not unusual. It’s not a particularly romantic thing to do. People make a big deal out of it, but if you want to be an artist or a musician in this country, it takes a certain amount of grit just to get through it. The best way to get through it is not to feel sorry for yourself because no one asked you to be an artist in the first place. No one said to me, “Hey, why don’t you become a musician?” To the contrary, everyone told me not to do it. So you only have yourself to blame. You do it because you want to.

FF: You’ve worked with pop groups like Polyrock and the Raybeats. How did you get involved with them?
Philip: First of all, it’s music that I listen to. I go to the clubs and hear it. In the early days, it was CBGBs and all those other places in the East Village. I was at tone of the first B-52’s concerts. That was about 4 or 5 years ago. I was standing in this bar and Brian Eno walked by and said, “There’s this really good band I want you to hear.” So I went and listened to them. The other thing is that when I was playing in Europe in the 1970s, I met a lot of guys who formed their own bands and became very well known. Like Tangerine Dream. I was playing in Berlin in 1971 when they were just getting started. So they knew me. A lot of people like Robert Fripp were all going to the Royal College of Art school. Like Bowie and Eno, as well. Like a lot of American musicians come out of art school. And so they started coming to see me and they wanted me to hear their work. That’s how it happened. Actually, they got me interested in what they were doing because they were interested in what I was doing. I just started forming social connections. In a way, at the beginning, it never occurred to me that I would work with a rock band.

FF: How did it happen?
Philip: RCA Records signed Polyrock and they needed a producer, and they asked the band who they wanted to work with and the said me. And the funny thing is that the lady at RCA Records, Nancy Jeffries, thought I had never heard of rock’n’roll. She thought I was only a classical composer. She said to me, "Do you go to rock clubs?” And I said, “I go all the time.” And I’ve known the Raybeats for a long time. Donny and Jody used to play with James Black, so and so I knew them from the Contortions. It was really fun going to see them at Max’s (Kansas City) because James would go into the audience and get his face smashed in. And the thing I liked was that the band kept playing even when he got dragged out. No matter what happened to him, they kept playing. And they sounded like a band. They left and formed the Raybeats, which has become one of the prime influential dance bands. They asked me to write a song for them and I had always wanted to. And at one point, it just happened.

FF: Are you constantly looking for new acts to work with?
Philip: I don’t have to look. They just pop up.

FF: You get lots of offers from the pop world?
Philip: Not that much. Just enough to keep me interested. I do about one or two things a year. Like I just got through working with Ray Manzarak. He was the piano player of the Doors. I just did a big record project with him. Just a few weeks ago, I worked with Paul Simon in the studio on something he wanted to work on. So some of my collaborators are older people from my generation. But there are younger bands around. I don’t go looking for bands. I’m busy writing operas and ballets and really don’t go looking for projects. When something comes up that interests me, and someone asks me to do it, changes are that I will. It’s also another financial thing; it’s partially how we make a living.

FF: It seems that rock’n’roll lyrics are mainly concerned with teenage problems and young romance. Does classical music intentionally try to reflect any such area of the human experience?
Philip: I wonder. Most of the music isn’t literal that way except for the theater pieces I do. And the theater pieces I’ve worked on were people like Einstein and Gandhi. What I’m interested in with these cases is the dramatic impact these people’s lives made on us. And sometimes there can be violence in it, too. And there can be apocalyptic visions, too, like the Einstein opera. And the Gandhi opera had a whole piece about civil disobedience. And, of course, that’s starting to surface again, directed toward the anti-nuke thing. But all those kinds of political experiences I went through during the Viet Nam days and the civil rights days.

FF: Were you politically active then?
Philip: I didn’t’ do much marching. I wasn’t that politically active. I was in a few marches. I found marches scary. I didn’t like being chased by cops. I didn’t want to get my head busted. I was always sympathetic to it. But I never put myself in a position where I could get my head cracked. The interesting thing is that by dealing with social issues in theater pieces, you’re saying what you have to say. But in terms of the emotion of it, there’s really not that big a difference between, say, a classical work like Rite of Spring and the music of the Sex Pistols. I think that the music is radically different, of course. Stravinsky and the Sex Pistols couldn’t be more different. But in other ways, what you’re dealing with, the range of human emotions, is available to all of us. The difference between long-haired composers and short-haired composers in not very different when it comes down to emotional content. The means of expression may be different, but the human experience has got to be pretty much the same.

FF: It’s rumored that you’ve worked with David Bowie.
Philip: I haven’t worked with him. I’m friends with him and we’ve talked about music from time to time. As a matter of act, we have a project coming up right now. It has to do with Bob Wilson’s new piece on civil wars. The fifth act is supposed to be the American Civil War and he’s asked David to play Abraham Lincoln. And David said if I write the music he’s going to ask Iggy Pop to write the words. David and I have talked about doing things in the past, but either he'd be in one place or I’d be in the other. He comes to my concerts and I’m trying to get a ticket to see his. We’ve known each other for a long time. When he appeared (on Broadway) in The Elephant Man in New York, I went to see it. And a couple of weeks later I was playing at the Peppermint Lounge and he walked over from Broadway. And this up and coming project could be our first real collaboration. But we’ve talked about doing a lot of things.

FF: Is it true that you invite strange people up to your house for dinner?
Philip: Oh, sure. But the kids also bring a lot of people around to the house. If they want to have someone over for dinner, I make the dinner. The kids are with me very other week. The weeks they’re with me tend to be fairly sociable evenings. The weeks they’re not with me I don’t go out at all. So I guess I’m kind of a Jekyll-and-Hyde person that way.

FF: Do you do most of your composing at home?
Philip: Yes. I have one piano in our apartment. I live in a tow-room apartment in the Lower East Side. Most people seem to think that musicians all live in nice, fancy lofts though.

FF: Especially since you’ve been going the Johnny Walker ads. People must think you ride around in limousines for fun.
Philip: I’d like to. And maybe someday I will. There isn’t a lot of money right now in the music business. But remember, I see a lot of records for a classical composer: 80,000 to 90,000 records. But by pop standards, it isn’t very much.

FF: Do you find more younger people coming to your concerts?
Philip: Yes. The funny thing is, as I get older, my audience gets younger. On the average, I’m probably 20 years older than the audience. But that wasn’t always true. When I first started playing, the people who came to my concerts were my friends. And generally, that’s what happens: you get an audience and the audience grows with you. I think about the people who liked Bob Dylan and bought his records before are the same people who like him and buy his records now. I remember playing Bobby Dylan for my kids when they were about 8 or 9, and their questions were, “Why does he sing so funny?” Most people get locked into their generation. But there have been successively younger generations that have gotten interested in my music. Now, when I do a concert, there are usually a lot of people there in their mid-20s. And I’m in my mid-40s.

FF: Would you like to play in a rock’n’roll band someday, if only for fun?
Philip: I think it would be fun. Maybe some time that will happen.

FF: What attracted you to classical music over the pop music you had access to at your record store?
Philip: I liked the classical music. My father liked classical music and that was the music we played at home. He didn’t like to bring pop records home. I was studying flute at the Peabody Conservatory in Baltimore, and I started down the road of classical music. It’s what I was closest to, and that still remains to be true. But I have a very wide interest in all music. I’m not a snob about music, obviously, but my main outlet has always been classical.

FF: What are your favorite current pop bands?
Philip: I just heard this group, the Major Thinkers. I think they’re terrific. The Raybeats have always been favorites of mine.

FF: How do you meet new bands?
Philip: Friends of mine work in recording studios. And they recommend a new group that I should hear. And I still go to the clubs and hear new bands there.

FF: Have you listened to any of the hardcore music?
Philip: Not yet, but I guess I should.

FF: Do you have any closing words of advice for would-be musicians?
Philip: To the people who are interested in playing and writing music, I think that the craft and technique of it is something you can spend a lot of time at before acquiring it. The more you acquire, the easier it’s going to be to do the kind of work you want to do. If it’s an instrument you’re playing, really learn to play it. Those things take time. And there’s a certain period in your life when you have the time to do this, and that’s when you’re younger, because generally when you’re younger, you don’t have the pressures of family and financial pressures so much. So, it’s bets to master your craft when you’re young.