MON., JANUARY 22, 2007
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eMusic Q&A: Lee Hazlewood
by Karen Schoemer
For more than fifty years, Lee Hazlewood has been pouring unconventional ideas into conventional pop songs. As a producer and songwriter in the '50s, he codified the sound of juvenile delinquency with Duane Eddy’s guitar instrumental “Rebel Rouser”; in the ’60s, he improbably melded feminism and sex kittenhood with Nancy Sinatra’s number-one hit “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’.” His success with other people’s records has served as a cue for him to get really weird on his own: solo albums like Trouble Is a Lonesome Town in 1963 and The N.S.V.I.P.’s in 1965 spun campfire tales about outlandish characters while Hollywood session aces picked country and jazz licks in the background. In 1970, Hazlewood went AWOL from the music business, relocating to Europe for a string of surrealistic country and torch albums like Cowboy in Sweden and Requiem for an Almost Lady. By the ’90s, his refusal to adhere to formulas had made him an icon for indie hipsters like Nick Cave, Beck and Sonic Youth; after two decades of dormancy, he resurfaced for a reunion tour with Nancy and an off-the-cuff jazz album, Farmisht, Flatulence, Origami, ARF!!! and Me….
In 2005 Hazlewood was diagnosed with cancer, and set about making a swan song. Cake or Death is a rich culmination of his life’s work, organizing his off-kilter notions and willful absurdities into one handy package. “Nothing” finds a still-libidinous older guy (“Probably me,” he admits) hitting on an uncooperative German chick; “She’s Gonna Break Some Heart Tonight” is a mariachi-flavored do-bad country song. “Baghdad Knights” and “Anthem” blast Republican politics — “There’s not too many old Southern super-liberals sitting around,” he says proudly. He spoke to eMusic on the phone from his home in Las Vegas. At first he sounded tired, but he grew more animated as he discussed his new album. “Emotionally it’s fine,” he said of his illness. “The pain sometimes is a little rough.”
eMusic: What inspired you to cover “Please Come to Boston,” a soft-rock hit in the ’70s for Dave Loggins? And who’s the Eurobabe singing with you?
Lee Hazlewood: Ann Kristin Hedmark is the best girl jazz singer in Scandinavia. I sound kind of funny with a jazz singer. Can’t choose a jazz song, of course. I didn’t write that song, thank goodness. But I’ve always liked it. I thought it was the greatest loser song. This guy can’t get this bitch to travel anywhere with him. He’s out in the streets, selling his butt — it’s terrible. And Ann Kristin just loved it. She said, “He is a loser! My God, why doesn’t he get rid of this girl?” I said, “She got rid of him, Ann Kristin, don’t worry.”
eMusic: “Boots (Original Melody),” with Duane Eddy, slays me. You sing it like you’ve just been laid out on a sawdust-covered barroom floor.
LH: I called Duane up and said, “Let’s write something for my album, because we wrote so many hits together back in those days.” He said, “I don’t want to do that. I want to do ‘Boots.’” I said, “Duane, let me tell you something. I love you and everything, but ‘Boots’ is a corporation in itself. It’s been in thirty films, it’s been in sixty television shows, it’s been used for commercials, it’s a multi-million-dollar song and it really does not need any help at all.” He said, “I want to make it like I always thought it should be.” I said, “Okay, I tell you want we’re gonna do. I talked to Lasse Samuelsson, who’s an arranger from Sweden, and Lars would like to do it too, only he would like to do it jazz.” He said, “Good. When I get through with it, let him add his jazz parts.” So that’s what we ended up with. It’s neither fish nor fowl.
eMusic: The last song, “T.O.M. (The Old Man),” makes me tear up when you say, “Have you seen the old man? He’s ready to go.”
LH: Oh, isn’t that sad? I’ve had that lyric around for a while. It’s just things I’ve picked up from hearing people talk. Everybody thinks that I wrote it about myself, but I wrote it about anybody. I wrote it for grandpas. We don’t have any of that stuff around the house here — we don’t go into all of that grandpa’s-going-to-be-leaving-us tap dance.
eMusic: The album as a whole feels like a statement of philosophy. It feels like you’re summing yourself up and tying up loose ends.
LH: I think it’s because I worked a year on it. Usually, for all those little albums, I’d gather up things and do them with half a dozen musicians. But this was all carefully arranged. I was just hoping you didn’t hear any of my sickness on it, and I don’t think you do. Maybe you can hear some sick philosophy, which I’ve always had. But I don’t think you can hear any of my sickness. I think the worst of it has come on since I finished up.
eMusic: No, I don’t hear your sickness. But I do think it confronts death.
LH: It spits at death, anyway.
eMusic: I think there’s something heroic in the way you’ve managed your career. You had such incredible success with Duane and Nancy, and then turned your back on it.
LH: You mean I took a holiday, as they say in Europe, or a vacation, as we say in America? I’ve taken about ten of them in my life. To make your living out of something that goes 'round and 'round like a record used to—I don’t know, it got on my nerves sometimes. Seeing a chart where the top five records were all Beatles helped. And the rest of the chart was all Motown. That’s the first time I ever quit. I thought, “That’s silly for me to work against that.” Things like that came up. So I’ve taken as small as a six-month vacation, and as much as a two-year vacation, several times. And never had any problem with it whatsoever. Thank God I could afford it.
eMusic: But even the solo albums you made, like The N.S.I.V.P.’s in 1965 or Cowboy In Sweden in 1970, seemed deliberately not commercial.
LH: Yeah, I wasn’t doing anything commercial. I wanted to write all that stuff out of me and get back to the other. The only thing is, I never got back to writing commercial songs, because I found out that I could sell some CDs in Europe just by writing anything I wanted to write.
eMusic: Maybe it’s because of “Nothing” from Cake or Death, but I keep thinking you’re an existentialist. Were you trying to make a statement about who you are and your feelings about life?
LH: No, I wasn’t going to give any advice. My lifestyle and my life wouldn’t be a good example for anyone to follow. Probably no one would understand it. I know I never have. The only surprise in my whole life was when my own personal albums started to do something in Europe at the end of the ’80s and in the ’90s. That was a surprise. Kids are recording these songs in garages and they send me copies and I love them. They change the melody, they do all kinds of things to them. It’s nice that they’ve taken the time to do it. It pleasures an old man to no end.
Browse Recent eMusic Editorial Features
In 2005 Hazlewood was diagnosed with cancer, and set about making a swan song. Cake or Death is a rich culmination of his life’s work, organizing his off-kilter notions and willful absurdities into one handy package. “Nothing” finds a still-libidinous older guy (“Probably me,” he admits) hitting on an uncooperative German chick; “She’s Gonna Break Some Heart Tonight” is a mariachi-flavored do-bad country song. “Baghdad Knights” and “Anthem” blast Republican politics — “There’s not too many old Southern super-liberals sitting around,” he says proudly. He spoke to eMusic on the phone from his home in Las Vegas. At first he sounded tired, but he grew more animated as he discussed his new album. “Emotionally it’s fine,” he said of his illness. “The pain sometimes is a little rough.”
eMusic: What inspired you to cover “Please Come to Boston,” a soft-rock hit in the ’70s for Dave Loggins? And who’s the Eurobabe singing with you?
Lee Hazlewood: Ann Kristin Hedmark is the best girl jazz singer in Scandinavia. I sound kind of funny with a jazz singer. Can’t choose a jazz song, of course. I didn’t write that song, thank goodness. But I’ve always liked it. I thought it was the greatest loser song. This guy can’t get this bitch to travel anywhere with him. He’s out in the streets, selling his butt — it’s terrible. And Ann Kristin just loved it. She said, “He is a loser! My God, why doesn’t he get rid of this girl?” I said, “She got rid of him, Ann Kristin, don’t worry.”
eMusic: “Boots (Original Melody),” with Duane Eddy, slays me. You sing it like you’ve just been laid out on a sawdust-covered barroom floor.
LH: I called Duane up and said, “Let’s write something for my album, because we wrote so many hits together back in those days.” He said, “I don’t want to do that. I want to do ‘Boots.’” I said, “Duane, let me tell you something. I love you and everything, but ‘Boots’ is a corporation in itself. It’s been in thirty films, it’s been in sixty television shows, it’s been used for commercials, it’s a multi-million-dollar song and it really does not need any help at all.” He said, “I want to make it like I always thought it should be.” I said, “Okay, I tell you want we’re gonna do. I talked to Lasse Samuelsson, who’s an arranger from Sweden, and Lars would like to do it too, only he would like to do it jazz.” He said, “Good. When I get through with it, let him add his jazz parts.” So that’s what we ended up with. It’s neither fish nor fowl.
eMusic: The last song, “T.O.M. (The Old Man),” makes me tear up when you say, “Have you seen the old man? He’s ready to go.”
LH: Oh, isn’t that sad? I’ve had that lyric around for a while. It’s just things I’ve picked up from hearing people talk. Everybody thinks that I wrote it about myself, but I wrote it about anybody. I wrote it for grandpas. We don’t have any of that stuff around the house here — we don’t go into all of that grandpa’s-going-to-be-leaving-us tap dance.
eMusic: The album as a whole feels like a statement of philosophy. It feels like you’re summing yourself up and tying up loose ends.
LH: I think it’s because I worked a year on it. Usually, for all those little albums, I’d gather up things and do them with half a dozen musicians. But this was all carefully arranged. I was just hoping you didn’t hear any of my sickness on it, and I don’t think you do. Maybe you can hear some sick philosophy, which I’ve always had. But I don’t think you can hear any of my sickness. I think the worst of it has come on since I finished up.
eMusic: No, I don’t hear your sickness. But I do think it confronts death.
LH: It spits at death, anyway.
eMusic: I think there’s something heroic in the way you’ve managed your career. You had such incredible success with Duane and Nancy, and then turned your back on it.
LH: You mean I took a holiday, as they say in Europe, or a vacation, as we say in America? I’ve taken about ten of them in my life. To make your living out of something that goes 'round and 'round like a record used to—I don’t know, it got on my nerves sometimes. Seeing a chart where the top five records were all Beatles helped. And the rest of the chart was all Motown. That’s the first time I ever quit. I thought, “That’s silly for me to work against that.” Things like that came up. So I’ve taken as small as a six-month vacation, and as much as a two-year vacation, several times. And never had any problem with it whatsoever. Thank God I could afford it.
eMusic: But even the solo albums you made, like The N.S.I.V.P.’s in 1965 or Cowboy In Sweden in 1970, seemed deliberately not commercial.
LH: Yeah, I wasn’t doing anything commercial. I wanted to write all that stuff out of me and get back to the other. The only thing is, I never got back to writing commercial songs, because I found out that I could sell some CDs in Europe just by writing anything I wanted to write.
eMusic: Maybe it’s because of “Nothing” from Cake or Death, but I keep thinking you’re an existentialist. Were you trying to make a statement about who you are and your feelings about life?
LH: No, I wasn’t going to give any advice. My lifestyle and my life wouldn’t be a good example for anyone to follow. Probably no one would understand it. I know I never have. The only surprise in my whole life was when my own personal albums started to do something in Europe at the end of the ’80s and in the ’90s. That was a surprise. Kids are recording these songs in garages and they send me copies and I love them. They change the melody, they do all kinds of things to them. It’s nice that they’ve taken the time to do it. It pleasures an old man to no end.
Browse Recent eMusic Editorial Features
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