Sonic gladiator, glam philosopher and general wildman of rock, Andrew W.K suggests there’s another side to his big pulsating blend of stadium-sized alterna. Something to do with regurgitation and spiritual debt? Allan Kemler talks to Mr W.K.
Andrew W.K. has done the rock ‘n’ roll math and it all adds up.
Despite the hype in the UK, where he’s been described by the fawning British music press as an amalgam of Diamond Dave Roth, Eddie Van Halen, Slade and GBV, his debut, I Get Wet (Island/Def Jam), sounds more like a cross between Slade and the Anti Nowhere League (but with more synthesizers).
Don’t get me wrong, this CD does rock. But if you think it sounds anything like the once mighty VH, you’ve obviously been listening to Robbie Williams and Travis for too long.
Knocks on the obscenely hype-driven British press aside, this is a pretty cool album. It takes about five seconds before you feel like popping open a beer, rolling up a big doob and throwing your TV out the front window. And it should only take about two weeks from the time this album is released (March 26) until it’s blasting out of every alterna bar & grill from Tampa to Tacoma.
So much the better, I say, because this album kicks ass! I don’t even know why. It’s not particularly tuneful or original, and it’s kinda repetitive, but it’s so simple and full of “Fuck Yeah!” energy, that it’s irresistible.
Maybe it’s because it’s one of the first things anybody’s heard in a while that actually resembles rock ‘n’ roll. (No wonder the Brits are all in tizzy.)
Of course, in their defence, look at how ga-ga everybody went over the Strokes and the White Stripes. Well, whatever. That was last year. This year it’s Andrew W.K.-at least until May or June, anyway. In the meantime, we should all enjoy it.
Regurgitation and Spiritual Debt
“I work really, really hard not to throw up,” states Andrew W.K., from his tour bus somewhere outside of Stockholm, “because then all the food that I’ve worked so hard to eat that day is gone. And it’s possible that I could eat the puke, but it’s not good to do that because the acid is so hard on your throat.”
This from a guy who constantly exhorts his listeners to party until they hurl. Apparently, what’s good for the goose isn’t good for the gander. But the 23-year old performer has his reasons.
For one, he doesn’t want anything to interfere with his ability to deliver the most intense, balls-to-the-wall performance he can imagine.
“I try to reach failure by the end of every show,” he explains. “If I leave the stage and I don’t collapse, then I haven’t done my job.”
Second, he feels he owes it to everybody anyway.
“As far as I can see, over hundreds of years people have dedicated their lives so that I can talk to you on a cell phone right now about what I do all day long.
“There’s been a lot of sacrifice so that I can live this life. Even to this day there are people who don’t have all these things. I really want to make the most of it. I owe it to them.”
Nevertheless, even though he’s in the midst of a world tour, that doesn’t mean he’s acting like some self-absorbed ponce who mistakes his recent success for super global stardom. On the contrary, he says he’s working harder than ever to get your attention.
“I won’t stop, I’ll tell you that,” vows W.K. “The only way I’ll stop is if I die. This is heaven on earth and I intend to take advantage of it.”
Deep
But his tireless work ethic has been in place for years. Prior to leaving his home state of Michigan at 17 in search of a music career in the Big Apple, W.K. worked it by playing drums in a bunch of Detroit-area punk and metal bands.
Once in New York, he managed to circulate a few early demos among record labels and then promptly went on a tour of the East Coast where he assailed audiences with nothing more than a CD player, a keyboard and a microphone.
Even his self-inflicted wounds, born of the unbridled zeal he demonstrates while performing, serve to prove that he is no third-rate slouch hoping he’s in the right place at the right time, but rather a talented fucking nut with confidence to spare. The question is, are we ready for him.
“I want to make music that’s instantly gratifying and easy,” says W.K., trying to assuage our fears. “This music is freedom, it’s unafraid. It’s unashamed. Not guilty, not worried. It’s simple.”
And it is party music, after all. This isn’t the next Rage Against The Machine album. In fact, a quarter of the songs on I Get Wet have the word party in the title. Of course, Andrew W.K.’s definition of the word is a bit broader than most. Yet, maybe he knows something we don’t.
“The word party is the biggest word I know that means celebrating and including everybody,” elucidates W.K. “The word party is nothing but freedom. Everybody understands it and it’s to the point. It means making the most of being alive.”
Despite his utterly inexhaustible drive, the former gumball-machine salesman’s path to success hasn’t been a direct one.
After spending a few months in 1999 taking his one-man show to every Starbucks that would have him, W.K.’s big break came when a friend of Dave Grohl’s forwarded the former Nirvana stickman a tape of the muscle bound Michiganer.
Grohl fell instantly in love with W.K.’s glam, arena rock anthems and straightaway offered him the chance to open two gigs for the Foo Fighters at the Warfield Theatre in San Francisco. (This is probably what led to the rumour that W.K. was merely a beta-tester for Grohl’s new tunes.)
English audiences, meanwhile, received their first taste of W.K. via his Girls Own Juice and Party Til You Puke EPs on Bulb Records, released in 1999 and 2000, respectively. Around the same time, Island/Def Jam signed W.K. to a contract and he turned his attention toward putting together a full band.
In order to create the hammer-of-the-gods sound he longed to hear, W.K. enlisted death metal drummer, Donald “D.T.” Tardy, formerly of Obituary. To complete the line up, he added guitarist Jimmy Coup, formerly of Coup de Grace, bassist Gregg R. and guitarists E. Payne and Sergeant Frank.
Hard on the heels of his first two releases, I Get Wet was released on October 29, 2001 in the UK and the English promptly went bananas. By year’s end he would be featured in multiple issues of Kerrang! and NME and in London’s Daily Telegraph, as well as make television appearances on the “Big Breakfast” and “Top of the Pops.”
Aught-two began with W.K. touring the UK and the European continent, taking the show to 19 cities in all. And as Spring 2002 dawns, W.K. finds himself headlining a tour of the States supporting the American release of his new album.
No longer playing to crowds at Starbucks, the wily wolverine says he’s happy to be home and playing for American audiences.
Charming-and typical of this hometown boy with a heart of gold and a dire need to rock out while living life in the red zone.
Yet for anyone who’s still not sold on this 6´4 bundle of energy’s credentials or on the merits of his escapist musical stylings, the lanky man with the pearly white teeth has this to say:
“Every human being on the face of the earth is invited to be a part of this unconditionally. Nothing you can do, think, say, act like or talk like is unacceptable, because the music doesn’t care.”
Thanks!
Allan Kemler for Crud Magazine© 2002