A conversation with Jon Spencer from 2010
The Blues Explosion man talks about reuniting his pre-internet band in a post-Pitchfork world, and why anyone who questions his decision to wear leather pants in 100-degree heat is a fuckin' square
Welcome to stübermania, where I dig into my box of dust-covered interview cassettes from the 1990s, 2000s, and 2010s, and present bygone conversations with your favourite alterna/indie semi-stars. This is a newsletter in three parts: The Openers (links to recent writings, playlist updates, and/or other musical musings), The Headliner (your featured interview of the week), and Encores (random yet related links).
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THE OPENERS
Notes on this week’s additions to the stübermania 2024 playlist:
Dummy, “Blue Dada”: Answers the question: “What would happen if the entire early ‘90s Too Pure roster was condensed into one glorious song?”
Dorothea Paas, “Autumn Roses”: You may recognize Dorothea’s name from scanning the liner notes to your favourite U.S. Girls, Jennifer Castle, and Badge Epoque Ensemble records. The lead single from her upcoming sophomore album, Think of Mist (Nov. 15), is a soft-rock stunner that fuses ‘70s gold sounds with an uncanny mystical quality that would make Dorothea the perfect opening act for Weyes Blood’s next tour.
2nd Grade, “Airlift”: The Philly power-pop band’s upcoming album, Scheduled Explosions (out Oct. 25), crams 23 songs into 39 minutes with Pollardian panache, though the vibe on this single is less bootleg-Beatles than busker Byrds.
Cass McCombs, “Wasted Again”: Cass’ surprise “new” album, Seed Cake on Leap Year, is actually a collection of 25-year-old demos, of which this strung-out ballad is the prize find—it kind of sounds like how the Stones’ “Moonlight Mile” might have turned out if Mick and Keith were too strung out to call in the string section.
Andre Ethier, “Kids Are”: Of all the artists who got caught up in the early-2000s rock renaissance, none has drifted further from the garage than the former Deadly Snakes frontman. The new Cold Spaghetti (Sept. 27) sees Ethier once again team up with avant-pop maestro Sandro Perri, as well as indie sax master Joseph Shabason, who lure him into the new-age-jazz deep end, but his calming croon remains the sturdiest of anchors.
Jon Spencer, “Wrong”: After a brief spell fronting The Hitmakers, the former Blues Explosion man is leading yet another trio—this one featuring bassist Kendall Wind and drummer Macky Spider Bowman of The Bobby Lees. On the just-released Sick of Being Sick!, the new crew nudges Spencer away from the new-wave/trash-can aesthetics of his more recent work to recapture the grime and groove of his Now I Got Worry days.
Click here for the Apple Music version.
And speaking of Spencer…
THE HEADLINER:
A conversation with Jon Spencer
The date: July 22, 2010
Location: Phoner—Jon was in New York City, I was at the Eye Weekly office in Toronto.
Publication: Eye Weekly
Album being promoted: Matador’s deluxe reissues of the 1990s-era Jon Spencer Blues Explosion discography.
The context: If you were to run into me at any point between the years 1994 and 1998, there was a 98.7 per cent chance I would be wearing my black Blues Explosion t-shirt with silver print. And while my obsession with the band had waned by the time they went on hiatus in 2004, they remained the standard by which I measured all garage/punk bands. Whenever I ponder the question, “does this rock?”, I’m actually asking myself, “does this come anywhere close to matching the freakazoid fury of the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion on the Orange tour?” No band has ever walked a finer line between being telepathically locked-in and psychotically out of control.
But despite my immense admiration for his band, I was always intimidated by the prospect of interviewing Spencer, who was often portrayed by the music press as a cagey character with little interest in interrogating his creative process (never mind fielding more questions about whether his berserker reanimations of vintage Black music constituted a sincere gesture or ironic pose). When I first did a phoner with him prior to the Toronto stop on the 1998 Acme tour, his answers were typically terse—it was the sort of interview where I burned through 20 questions in less than 10 minutes.
However, after he pushed pause on the Blues Explosion in the mid-2000s, Spencer embraced his status as a garage-rock elder statesmen, showing a friendlier face in the good-time rockabilly outfit Heavy Trash. And by the time I caught up with him again in 2010 during the Blues Explosion’s reunion campaign, he was much more open and reflective about his place in a musical landscape he helped shape. Though the Blues Explosion were nowhere to be found on mainstream rock radio in the 2000s, they had a profound influence on several groups in heavy rotation (The White Stripes, The Hives, The Black Keys), while a new generation of subterranean noisemakers—like Ty Segall, The Black Lips, and Thee Oh Sees—were keeping Spencer’s gonzo spirit alive in the underground.
But if Spencer was proud of his legacy, he had no interest in resting on it. This interview for Eye Weekly happened a week after I had seen the Blues Explosion turn in an electrifying, show-the-kids-how-it’s-done performance in Chicago at the Pitchfork Festival, about which I remember three things:
It was, like, 100 degrees out, and yet…
…Spencer still wore his trusty black-leather pants, thereby turning the lyric “that’s the sweat of the Blues Explosion” into less of a braggadocious boast and more of a self-evident scientific fact.
The performance also reheated Spencer’s long-standing beef with veteran Chicago music journalist Jim DeRogatis, who, in his review of the festival, suggested the band were engaging in a form of “blackface parody.”
During our interview, Spencer addressed those criticisms in no uncertain terms without any prompting required. But before we get to that, we must first take a whiff of his pant leg, baby:
So, do you regret the decision to wear leather pants at the Pitchfork Festival?
I don’t know what the fuck is up with these squares today. I’m in a rock ‘n’ roll band and I was there to play rock ‘n’ roll. I didn’t go there to work on my tan or play hacky sack. Jesus Christ, what’s this world coming to? Everybody gets so upset about me trying to look good! I’ve got a job to do. Fuck these squares. I’m getting to be an old man, but I’ve got a job, and I’m going to do it the best I can.
How did you feel being at a festival like Pitchfork, given that the definition of underground music has changed so much since the Blues Explosion were coming up?
I think I represent the true underground. The Blues Explosion, we’ve always done our own thing—very punk, very independent. Same as when we were making those records in the ‘90s, it’s the same as it is now: There’s a lot of really terrible, narrow-minded music, and a lot of it gets celebrated as new or innovative when it’s just a rehash of 1970s bullshit. Hell yeah, the Blues Explosion should’ve been at Pitchfork and I’m happy to play anywhere. It was a hot day, sure; I think it went alright. But I don’t read Pitchfork, and I didn’t know there was some prerequisite for the festival; I just thought it was a festival like any other festival. I’ve played festivals before—they invited me, and I was happy to go there.
People expect a certain standard of performance from the Blues Explosion—did it take a long time to get back into the groove after an extended layoff?
There will always exist a connection or kind of language between the three members. But, of course, it does take some practice. We definitely practiced quite a bit before heading out to Chicago. We’ve taken long breaks; over the past few years, we’ve gotten together sporadically, and every time we have to work on it. It’s not like it all just falls back into place. We’re trying to entertain the people and put on a good show, so we’ve got to make sure we’re ready. We never use a setlist. That kind of split-second, turn-on-a-dime kind of thing—it takes work.
Did the Blues Explosion ever officially break up?
No, we never sent out a press release to that effect; there was no secret handshake. I’ll speak for myself: I wanted to do some different kinds of music and work with different people. Being in a band can be hard work, and we worked really flat-out hard for more than 10 years at it.
In a way, being known for such high-energy performances can paint you into a corner, in that people expect that from you all the time…
It’s become very clear to me working on all these reissues—which has been a huge project and undertaking that’s taken up a lot of my time over the past nine months—there was a lot of development and evolving that took place in the Blues Explosion over these six albums that we’re reissuing. We really did change a lot.
I imagine it wasn’t just musical development, but personal development, too, as you get older…
Yes, that is definitely a big part of it. I think for anybody, as time passes, you change. It’s one thing to listen to a band’s record or see them play live, but there’s a whole lot of time and stuff that happens off the stage that went into making that record. It wasn’t just a desire to take a break musically, but also to take a break personally.
Now that the Blues Explosions are back together, what are the chances of Boss Hog coming back?
We talked about making another record. I think it’d be nice, but everyone’s got a job, so it might be a little hard to see that through.
So a few years back, you came up to Toronto to participate in The Sadies’ 10th anniversary show at Lee’s Palace with Heavy Trash, and I remember seeing you hanging at the back of the venue after you performed your songs, and some older folks who clearly weren’t familiar with you went up to you and were like, “Good job up there, buddy—you’re a natural! Keep at it!”
I just assume nobody knows who I am. I don’t know; it’d be kind of weird to go around thinking otherwise. I certainly think I’ve got to prove myself at every show. That was part of the attraction of Heavy Trash—it was an opportunity to explore different kinds of music, and different kinds of expressions, especially as a singer and a performer. It was very attractive to have a different kind of space.
So with these Blues Explosion reissues, are we getting every last thing this band laid down on tape?
Not everything. I’m trying to be as complete as possible; there are still entire concerts we could put out. But, for the most part, I tried to include all the studio recordings that were done around the time of each particular album. I ran out of space on Acme. Some of these reissues are two CDs; Acme we could’ve been three CDs. We were a very busy band, a very prolific band. I’m trying to be as complete as possible as a matter of record and also because I feel it’s important to make these reissues of value and of interest to anybody: To people who are already familiar with the records and to people who are new to the band.
All of the bonus material that got left on the cutting-room floor really shows how deliberate you were in crafting proper albums.
Yeah, [in the early ‘90s], it was kind of a hip thing to be “lo-fi,” and the Blues Explosion at times would get lumped in with that. I could understand it, but I think that sort of implies a laziness. In the same way we’re incredibly hard-working about our presentation on the stage, I was equally as hard-working and deliberate about the presentation of the albums. These weren’t throwaway records—there was an incredible amount of hard work and thought put into these.
Was it difficult revisiting some of this material? It seemed like the Now I Got Worry/Controversial Negro era was a particularly tense one for the band, in terms of the criticism and scrutiny you were being subjected to…
I think it got worse after that, it all went downhill! Like, this fucking asshole in Chicago has always had a chip on his shoulder against me and this band, and it continues to this day. If you don’t like the music, fine, but this whole thing about racism is just bone-headed and wrong. It definitely got worse as the years went on, and it’s the same thing with what I wear onstage: I don’t understand what the fuck is up with these squares. America still has a long way to go. Race is still a very touchy subject here. Things just seemed to get worse as the years went by, and I guess maybe I was kind of hoping we would outlive some of these fuckers—but in the case of this dude in Chicago, some of them are still around. I think the Blues Explosion’s a great band, I really do. I love the band, and these are great records—that’s ultimately it for me. Yeah, it’s important to me that I do a good job and people get their rocks off at the show, or are knocked out by the records, but ultimately I’m doing this for myself, because I was so touched by rock ‘n’ roll music—that’s what made me want to be in a band.
These reissues drive home the point that this band’s true legacy is breaking down the orthodoxies that surround genre—you were able to incorporate so many different styles into this minimalist blues-punk set-up.
I don’t know… we did a lot of cool stuff in the Blues Explosion, sure. I don’t think any of it was very calculated in any way. But I guess if you’re asking me if I think we’ve not really been given credit for some of this great stuff that we did, I suppose you’re right, yeah.
It feels like there’s a lot more freedom now in being able to listen to what you want, without being judged.
That whole part of the indie scene was a big turn-off for me—there were definitely people out there who really lorded over people with what fanzine they were reading, what rare record they had in their collection, and those people were definitely always a big drag. If the internet is helping us get away from all that, then that’s OK with me.
Overall, would you say it’s easier or more difficult being in a band today compared to 15 years ago?
I definitely miss big recording advances, and the luxury of just being able to experiment and explore in the studio—we definitely did that on some records. And that is gone—unless you’re selling hundreds of thousands of records, then you can do that yourself, but nobody’s going to front the money like they used to. I’ve always tried to do things as much as I can myself; I believe in independence and punk rock for lack of a better term. I don’t really have much pity for the record industry—I think it’s corrupt and always has been. So it’s not like the Blues Explosion was ever waiting around—if we got anywhere, and if we achieved any popularity, it was through our own hard work and our own sweat. And it wasn’t because we wanted to play the Pitchfork Festival and wore shorts because it was hot. We worked our fucking ass off. Yeah, I think things are different now, but my hunch is a lot of people who are crying about it and making a fuss are a bunch of lazy bastards.
And that is a perfect quote for us to end on. I’ll let you go now.
Alright, well, thanks for calling. I hope that was alright. Sometimes I wonder if I should be more polite in these interviews, but then I’m like, “fuck it!”
ENCORES
Being an occasional freelancer for Pitchfork doesn’t exactly pay the rent, but there are certain perks—like getting to watch bands side-stage at Pitchfork Festival. In this video of the Blues Explosion’s 2010 set, my blue-shirted self makes a cameo at stage left around the 00:35 mark.
It would take another seven years, but Spencer and his wife Cristina Martinez did indeed reunite Boss Hog for another album—the largely overlooked but quite excellent Brood X.
I try not to get too nostalgic for the ‘90s, but I truly do miss the days when TV stations would let Jon Spencer run wild in the studio:
This is a free newsletter, but if you really like what you see, please pay a visit to my PWYC tip jar!
Great interview. More of this attitude we need.