Chris Isaak

Venice Magazine
by steve baltin

"The next record's (Speak Of The Devil) got some pretty songs on it," says Chris Isaak of his latest CD. He then adds, "I think if people buy it, they won't want to turn it back in. Is that a kind of low-level endorsement? That's the reason I'm not in promotions, that's my idea of hype." Ever since Chris Isaak came out of Northern California _ _ years ago, he's been thought of as a throwback. With his matinee idol good looks, musical mix of crooning and the occasional rockabilly song, dual acting and singing career, and open admiration for vocalists like Roy Orbsion, Isaak has drawn more comparisons to the artists of the relatively innocent 50s than those of his own era. While likening Isaak to singers like Elvis and Ricky Nelson is too obvious, and it underestimates the richness of Isaak as a songwriter, it's also much more valid than using Scott Weiland as a reference point.

It's not just the musical disparities; even as Isaak cranks up the electric guitar on Speak Of The Devil, his latest work, he remains the singer/songwriter fans see as lost in this decade. Isaak's name has never been associated with drugs, arrests, greed or alcohol. When most artists are regularly spotted in bars, you expect to see Isaak at a soda fountain downing a root beer float or a vanilla malt. Other than for the risque video for "Wicked Game," which found Isaak cavorting on a beach with a scantily clad, gorgeous supermodel, the only time Isaak's name has ever made music news headlines for something other than his music was in 1995, when he included an anguished love letter to an ex-paramour in the packaging of the Forever Blue CD.

Isaak does recant a story of one devoted fan he let down. "One time this really good-looking French girl came to a concert and she threw this book at me, she'd written all these pages in French, I don't read French, and she said, 'I see you, you're laughing and joking with your friends, you're not like your music, you're a phony.' I said, How did you know?" Sure enough, Isaak later admits, she had spotted him eating ice cream.

Maybe the only reason the letter in Forever Blue made the gossip rounds was that Isaak, a 90s male rock star, had opened his wound for fans everywhere to peer deep into. It's not uncommon for singer/songwriters to let their feelings out through music, but without a guitar or a talk show host as a filter, it was probably embarrassing to some people. The kind of unabashed sentimentalism Isaak expressed in that letter, where he confessed to thinking about her, to wondering if she'd found someone else, undoubtedly made those used to looking at a blank computer screen, then "pouring" out their innermost thoughts, uneasy.

Isaak makes no apologies for the confessional nature of his music, a trait fans have found in his songs since his 1987 (?) debut. According to him, that's just his temperament. "When I sit down by myself and I'm writing, I like to write about things that are important to me. And I'm somebody who, if I sit down with people, they can shoot the bull, but I like to talk about things that are important to me, it makes me feel better to get them off my chest."

Although Speak Of The Devil was still in the mixing stages at the time of this interview, meaning journalists had heard only a five-song sampling of Isaak's latest, the five songs indicated that fans will find the work recognizable as an Isaak CD, but it's not exactly what you expect from him. "Please," the lead track on the sampler and the song Isaak identifies as the likely lead single, is a more aggressive, edgy tune, with more of a rock sensibility, than any of Isaak's previous records. "This album, I decided to take it a little louder," Isaak says. "This was the first album I did where I actually had everybody at a rehearsal space, I always have everybody at a garage; but this time I actually got a rehearsal space so we could play loud. I think it made a difference playing loud, it was a little more rock n' roll."

He makes it clear that a sequel to "Wicked Game," his biggest hit, is not likely to be in the offing anytime soon. He has no interest in revisiting territory he's already covered. "Every record that I do, I try to do something a little different," he says. "The worst thing you can do is go, 'Here's what I sound like, so my next album will have all the same people, the same instruments, I'll sing the same way and it'll be the same.'" If that's not what listeners want to hear, variety is what Isaak wants in his work. "It was fun to write with an electric guitar instead of an acoustic guitar, to write with it a little bit cranked up and the drums going. I got to take it to a different place," he says.

From a writing standpoint, Isaak had a relatively long time to determine what direction he wanted to take his music. Although it's been just about two years since his last release, Baja Sessions, that CD featured more covers than original material, making Speak Of The Devil his first recording of all-new material in three years. When the subject arises of how long Isaak has actually spent writing this CD, his trademark sense of humor, which anybody who's ever seen him live is very familiar with, surfaces. He refers to Speak Of The Devil as his "Winchester House." When I confess that I don't know the tale of the Winchester House, he explains: "There's a woman, she's the widow of the guy who made the Winchester rifle, and she was building her house when she got a letter from somebody that said, 'As long as you keep building your house, you should live forever.'" He then adds, "This album's like that with me; as long as I keep writing this album, I'll live forever." Does that mean he doesn't intend to finish it? "That�s right," he jokes. "I have more verses coming." He then adds, more seriously, "No, it hasn't been that long. I guess for the past year, which is not long for me."

Although he feels a year isn't that long, by his standards, at least, he does say he now has enough material for "another couple of albums." And while he also admits he can't even say what the "cut-off" was for this CD, he also believes, "You're always in a better position to have a couple of songs extra. It's a luxury because you get to pick out what you think is the best and you raise the standard. If you have 10 songs, that's an album; if you have 30, then you have to say, 'What are the best 10?' And you just keep saying, 'Is this better than that? Does that make a better record.'" He also adds, "And sometimes it's not just which song is better, but what goes together. You have to think of how they blend."

Other than Baja Sessions, Isaak's CD's have always played as whole albums, with Forever Blue standing almost as a concept record. If the five-song sampler Reprise sent out is any indication, Speak Of The Devil will be a return to form for Issak, resurrecting the pattern of continuity briefly interrupted by Baja Sessions. Isaak's deep, enflamed crooning is recognizable enough, by this time, to hold a record together by itself. However, the lively, jangly arrangements found on "Please," "Flyin'," "Walk Slow," "This Time" and "Don't Get Down On Yourself" tie, at least the sampler, together by creating a sitting in the park on a summer's day mood. Despite the fact the songs once again speak predominantly of lost loves and fallen relationships, the head-bobbing music conjures up images of driving down PCH in a convertible (Isaak's passion for surfing is well documented), of holding hands with your lover as you stroll down the beach. Lyrically, the tender "Don't Get Down On Yourself" matches the feeling of the music, making for, arguably, the warmest song Isaak has recorded yet. He says that makes it one of his favorites on the record, as well. "I really like "Don't Get Down on Yourself" because, as dark as I am, and I guess people tend to think of me as writing moody or dark stuff, I like having things that are upbeat and "Don't Get Down On Yourself" sends a nice message. It's like nowadays, everybody's friends are taking off, people are very transient, and it's a nice idea that somebody would call you and say, 'Hey, I'm thinking about you, I haven't forgotten you, don't get down on yourself, your friends are here for you.'" He adds, "It's a pleasant idea and I've got enough spooky ideas on the record already."

Is the album's title, which comes from a track on the disc, a reflection of those spooky ideas? "It's about a woman who watching her walk is like watching the flame," he says. "I'm trying to forget her, don't mention her name. It's like when you talk about her, she appears. I like that idea." The album's title, which sounds like a heavy metal song, could also be indicative of the record's harder-edged direction. He says, "Someone told me, 'You're gonna get people thinking it's satanic.' I thought, Oh good, I need those people. I hope they come to my house."

As long as Motley Crue resurrects itself from rock n' roll has-beendom for reunion tours, the protesters of satanism in rock are probably unable to get free long enough to picket Isaak's Northern California abode. Issak's followers, on the other hand, would undoubtedly be inclined to take him up on his off the cuff offer. He's always been very generous with his time when it comes to his fans, doing in-stores, staying after concerts to talk with the crowd and sign shirts or whatever else they put in front of him. At an LA House Of Blues date in support of Forever Blue, Isaak brought nearly every woman in the audience up onstage for the encore. By the end of the encore, there were as many fans dancing with him onstage as there were on the club's floor. That kind of willingness to get close to his listeners, in combination with his revelatory lyrics, has fostered a strong bond between Isaak and his audience. That union grew after Isaak invited fans into his heartbreak during the time of Forever Blue. "A lot of people that I talked to did say that when they listened to that record, it helped through a time in their life that was maybe not a break-up, maybe it was just a tough time," he says. "So, I think, yeah in that sense, a lot of people felt, 'Hey, somebody else is out there who feels all those things.'" After the story of the disenchanted French girl, who was disillusioned after seeing Isaak eat ice cream, we should give equal time to those fans who take the opposing viewpoint. Isaak tells this story: "I was out the other day and I saw a young guy, who looked really healthy, at one of my concerts, and he says, 'Your record, Forever Blue, really helped me. I had cancer and it helped get me through it.'" Isaak tells this tale not to brag, but because even he is taken aback by that kind of response. Almost to himself, he says, "Your art, you have no idea, these records might have a life of their own, they go on and somebody's relating to it. It's a bigger thing than you would think of."

Modesty and a lack of vices are two of the main traits that differentiate Isaak from his peers. A third is his total compliance with his label on all matters business related. Where artist-run start-up labels seem to be popping up with the frequency of Starbucks on street corners, Isaak takes the attitude, "I don't really know how the record company puts out records and I don't really pay much attention to it. They're in charge of selling the stuff and I don't bother them too much about that. And I'm in charge of hitting the high notes and writing the songs and they really don't bother me." He adds, "It seems unfair for the artist to say, 'You can't come in here and tell me about the music 'cause you're not an expert,' and then turn around and expect to be running the show on how to sell it."

That doesn't mean though that Isaak is subservient concerning the business side of his career. In regards to the issue of picking singles, he says, "Of course I'm interested in that stuff. And if they (the label) ask my opinion, I'm glad to give it. I'll tell people what I like on the record, but I also realize that a lot of times I'm not the guy who's best at merchandising or selling the record. I don't know what radio plays; I don't deal with radio or television everyday, I'm in the studio writing music.

"In my mind, the real goal for me is to record the songs, make 'em sound the way I want 'em to sound, and to make sure it goes on the record mixed properly and sounds good; once the album sounds really good, that's what I feel responsible for. As to how Kansas City radio is gonna respond to which first single, what's gonna hit which market - they have all these different markets now - I don't know that stuff. That's not what I do particularly. There are people who live and die by that stuff, and however they want to try and market it, good luck to 'em."

Isaak will be doing his part to aid the marketers by undoubtedly taking his act on the road for an extended period once Speak Of The Devil is in stores. In the meantime, Isaak, who says, "The best part of my life is when I'm on stage (or out with my friends)," has been doing selected dates just to get a feel for the material. "As soon as I wrote 'em I went out and started playing 'em live," he says. How has his new, louder sound translated to the stage? "They went over really well," he says. "It's nice because they started off as kind of electric and rock, so there's no problem doing 'em on the stage. They're right there. It's a little different when you do something on acoustic guitar, that you write in your kitchen and then you try and put it on an electric guitar on stage, that sometimes can be tricky."

Given his happiness with the album and how the songs have gone over in the live setting, can we expect to see Chris Isaak, rocker, from now on? "The next one might be more rocking, the next one might be Hawaiian tunes, I don't know, I try to keep breaking it up," he says. Ever the nice guy, Isaak is even willing to share his secrets for breaking it up. "I've co-written once or twice with different people, that was interesting," he says. "If you're playing guitar all the time, try writing on piano. If you're playing guitar and using the same chords, put a capo on, write in a different key or write with the whole band playing at one time."

Prior to this conversation, when I last spoke with Isaak, in a 1995 interview poolside at the San Fernando Valley's Sportsmen's Lodge, Isaak, who was obviously still feeling the aftereffects of the relationship that spawned Forever Blue, said that given a choice between being with the "right" person and a career in music, there was no decision for him - he would give up music as a living in a second to be happy with someone. This time, he gives off a different vibe over the phone. Back is the quick, sardonic wit; he quotes Don Knotts, then boasts, "There aren't many artists who can quote Don Knotts." With the number of times he's used the word fun during the interview, I pose the question, Do you consider yourself fortunate that you get to make music for a living? "Very fortunate," he responds.

Found at Venice Magazine Online

Back to Articles