Last Of The Rock Stars: The Elliott Murphy Interview

It’s been eight years since you’ve toured America, and 12 years since you’ve played the West Coast. Why so long between tours?

A couple of things happened. I live in France. I have a family. My son was growing up. I play about 100 shows a year over here. So, between family and touring over here, it wasn’t like I have any spare dates I was looking to fill in. My son, Gaspard, went off to school at [SUNY] Purchase College to study music production. And he left in September.

It’s amazing how the heart follows the mind, or the mind follows the heart, because all of a sudden I got this offer from Anne Leighton, who’s working with this young songwriter named Jann Klose, to organize a tour – the two of us together, with him opening for me. It just came just at the right time.

There was another reason I didn’t get to America in all these years. Whenever I used to tour America the key date was always the Bottom Line in New York. I’d been playing that place since it opened, and when it closed, I kind of lost my bearings as to where to start. In fact, the last time I played in New York was at the Bottom Line before it closed.

This time you’re playing a lot of clubs that weren’t around the last time you toured the U.S.

Exactly, the place we’re playing in New York – The Living Room – I’ve heard about it but I’ve never been there.

And Café Du Nord in San Francisco. Have you ever been there?

That’s going to be very new to me. And that’s ironic, because my whole career in France began when I played a show in San Francisco in 1976 at the Boarding House.

There was a French writer there who wrote an article about me for Rock & Folk, kind of like the French Rolling Stone, and that really started the ball rolling for Europe and me. And now I’m going back to San Francisco to a place with a French name.

You moved to France in 1989. Is it kind of an even trade? Are you influencing French songwriters and being influenced by them in return?

I think perhaps there’s been a little European influence in my music. Kind of that gypsy guitar – Django Reinhardt – that kind of feel. I spent a lot of time in Spain touring. And I think the sense of rhythm in Spain is incredible. It’s really like the birthplace of the guitar. So I think there’s been some peripheral influences like that. I think my roots in American music go pretty deep.

But what I think most influenced me here was the atmosphere of being an artist here. That was acceptable. In America, whenever I told someone I was a musician, they’d say, ‘That’s great, but what do you do to make a living?’ Here, you can be an artist.

Keith Richards once said something similar about the French accepting artists as ordinary people and not celebrities.

I don’t know what it’s like to be Keith Richards, but to be Elliott Murphy is a very nice comfort zone of fame. I’m not so famous or so well known that I’m hassled. If I have an encounter with a fan on the street, it’s really pleasant; it’s really nice. And I appreciate it. I don’t know what it’s like to have that super fame, but in Europe they certainly respect your privacy. And in my case it’s been all positive.

How did you hook up with Bruce Springsteen?

Bruce and I met in 1973, I think it was, when he was playing at Max’s Kansas City.

His first album had just come out – Greetings From Asbury Park – and Paul Nelson was a rock critic for Rolling Stone who was also working for Mercury Records and trying to sign me at the time. He brought me down to see Bruce play. And even then I was just blown over by his show. I met Bruce after the show and shook hands. We were kind of the new kids on the block.

My first album came out six months after that and was reviewed in Rolling Stone with Bruce’s second album – The Wild, The Innocent & The E Street Shuffle. Under that headline “The Best Dylan Since” or “The New Dylans” or something which haunted both of us.

Then we got to know each other more and more. When I played in New Jersey, he came to some shows of mine. Then I had an album after I moved to France called Selling The Gold, and I asked him if he would sing on it, and he sang on one song. And he invited me on stage almost every time he’s played in Paris.

Last June, in front of 50,000 people he invited me and my son Gaspard to come up and play with him. And that was just phenomenal. One of the greatest experiences of my life.

Any chance he’s going to show up at one of your shows in the U.S.?

I know Bruce. When he’s at home he doesn’t tend to travel too far from his home base in Jersey. So I think I’ll have to come to him. It’s like we’ll have to move the mountain to him. I hope so. I’ll have to let him know I’m playing.

Will longtime guitarist Olivier Durand accompany you on this tour?

Yes. In fact, Olivier just left. We were writing songs for the new album today. This is kind of my first foot in American waters after so many years. We’re going to do it as a duo. East Coast in December. West Coast in January. And we’re going to try and come back with my band in April.

And you’re touring with Jann Klose. Have you worked with him before?

We haven’t really been working together. This was all put together by Anne Leighton, Jann’s manager and publicist. Anne interviewed me for a publication called The Music Paper back in the ’80s, and then another time, maybe in Crawdaddy or Creem. Then she’d gone into publicity and management.

This is really her brilliant idea, to put the two of us together. Jann is new and upcoming. His self-produced first album has gotten tremendous reception in radio and in a lot of places in America, and he’s really made an impact. I guess she just thought the idea of us touring together would be really interesting. We’re going to do some songs together, and when I come in December we’re going to try to co-write a little bit and take it a step at a time.

You mentioned writings songs for a new album, but don’t you also have a Murphy-sings-Dylan album coming out?

That’s a thing I’m going to put on hold for a little while. I was actually going to call it Murphy Sings Bob & Bruce – half Bob songs and half Bruce songs. That would be interesting. They go together very well. But I have this new album I’m working on now. My 60th birthday is coming up in March. So we’re probably going to put out a DVD and a new album for that.

You’re in pretty good shape physically. Do you have an exercise regimen?

I do. I must say, it started really more out of necessity than an inspiration of looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger, who I look nothing like.

I do long shows – two or three hours – and it dawned on me that if I wanted to continue doing this I really had to stay in shape. I go to the gym as much as I can here.

And it’s one of the few things a touring musician can do on the road. It’s not difficult to find a gym nearby. A lot of hotels have fitness rooms as well. I can stay fit on the road. It’s one of the few things you can do out there.

You already mentioned you do long shows – and you have a song called “Put it Down,” which clocks in at over 10 minutes. You wrote on your Web site that you recorded it in one take. Is that a song that you could have continued writing? Could it have turned out even longer than 10-plus minutes?

I think I could have kept writing. I remember that song so well, how it came about.

I was in the city of Toulouse, which is in the southwest of France. I was watching TV at the time, with my guitar. I had a pad of paper and a pen nearby, and I started doing these chords, going back and forth – it was kind of a hypnotic chord progression, and boom! The lyrics just poured out of me. It’s the longest song I ever wrote, but I think I wrote it in the shortest amount of time. The lyrics just popped out, verse after verse, and when it was done, it was done.

I once interviewed Keith Richards and he told me he thought the songs were all floating in the air and it was our job to grab them and pull them down. So this one was a big one. It was floating right past me and I just grabbed it.

You have accomplishments besides music. Your novel “Poetic Justice” is often described as a “neo western.” Is that an accurate description?

In a way, I suppose. I’m a big movie fan, especially of westerns. I love western movies – John Ford, Howard Hawks – I love the last Ed Harris movie. He did a western called “Appaloosa.” All the Clint Eastwood stuff; Sergio Leone.

I think my book was more inspired by those movies than it was by any western literature. I kind of thought of the movie I was writing.

It’s about a killer who loves poetry. Specifically, he loves Walt Whitman. And it goes back and forth between the West – Oklahoma – and the East Coast where he grows up in a whorehouse.

Neo western? I guess so. I never quite understood that “neo” term. Neo conservative, neo western – kind of like a “reborn” or “new generation” of westerns. I guess that would fit.

You’ve had a long and interesting career through the decades, from growing up in New York to where you are now.

It’s been a lot longer than I expected. I remember in 1978 I was dropped by Columbia Records. I had done four albums – one for Polydor, two for RCA, one for Columbia. None of the majors seemed interested in me at that point. I honestly thought my career was over. I had my shot and this was it. And then I got my first chance to play in Japan later that year, and that went very well.

But when I came to Paris in 1979, and the place was sold out – a couple thousand people – and I did six encores, I said, “Wow! I’m going to get a second act here.”

You know, those were pretty dark days in 1978 when Columbia and I left each other, and I really thought it was over. And now it’s been almost 30 years.

It must have been tough for singer / songwriters in the late ’70s. Disco was going strong. Punk was making inroads in the U.S. There really weren’t a lot of opportunities in the late ’70s for a man with a guitar and a song.

Yes, 1977 was a very dark year. Number one, Elvis died. That was a bad omen to begin with. Punk came over. We were supposed to be singing love songs, and there weren’t a lot of love songs in punk. I remember I once did an interview for Punk magazine, and I said the only thing I didn’t like about punk is “where’s the love?”

But some great music came out of that. I’m a huge Clash fan. And we were kind of looked on as these over-sensitive … there was no edge.

But that was never me. I never really felt comfortable with that singer / songwriter title. Basically, I’m a rock ‘n’ roller at heart. Any acoustic music I do comes from a rock ‘n’ roll tradition and not the other way around. I wasn’t a folk singer who went electric. I was a rock ‘n’ roll musician who ended up going acoustic for a while. But singer/songwriter was a difficult brand to sell in the late ’70s.

In the early ’70s everybody with a guitar was labeled “new Bob Dylans.” And by the end of the ’70s those same artists were being labeled “too sensitive.” It seems like you just couldn’t win in that decade.

You couldn’t win either way. The hardest thing with the “new Bob Dylan” for me, and I think for everyone, is that my first album, Aquashow, was being compared to Blonde on Blonde, or Highway 61. These were masterpieces. These were Bob’s fifth, sixth or seventh albums.

It was like, where do I go now? It was really a set up. That was the hardest thing. To come back to terms and know myself, and to let myself grow as an artist, and to not think I had to create something … What was I going to do next? Sgt. Pepper? That was the hardest thing. It made it hard to move forward.

Are you familiar with Loudon Wainwright’s “Talking New Bob Dylan” where he describes the labels as signing up “men with guitars” in hopes of discovering the next Dylan?

I am. Some fans have given me recordings where Loudon has put my name in there at the end. I really appreciate that.

You’ve also appeared in a few movies.

Pretty briefly. It started when I was in Europe singing in the streets in 1971, and I was hired as an extra in a Fellini movie, “Roma.” And I did get to work right next to Federico Fellini for a couple of weeks. That was something I’ll never forget. An incredible experience.

In fact, some years later I wrote him a letter telling him how that experience changed my life, and I sent him a CD. Believe it or not, he replied. He sent me a letter back. I have it on my wall, today, telling me unfortunately age had weakened the memory and he didn’t remember my performance. Still, he loved my letter, and he wished me good luck. And then six months after that he died.

I also did a little part in a movie called “Downtown 81.” It was about Jean-Michel Basquiat, the painter. I’ve recently acted in a French film that I’m doing music for called “The White Line” that’s going to be out in the spring.

What can we expect from the upcoming U.S. tour? Do you go out with a predetermined set list, or does the song selection reflect whatever mood you’re in that night?

It changes a lot. My fans, next to my family, are my greatest treasure. When I first used to play concerts, I was trying to play for the music business.

Now I play for my fans, because they’re the ones who buy the tickets. I see some of the same faces night after night, and you feel a little guilty giving the same set night after night. So I tend to mix it up a lot, and if people ask for songs, and if I can remember the words, I do them.

The problem for me coming to America is going to be is that for most of the shows, I got an hour, maybe an hour-and-a-half to play, and I have about 300 songs to pick from.

You can’t play them all, can you?

I try. I think I played “Last of the Rock Stars” from my first album in almost every show I’ve done in my life. There’s another song – “On Elvis Presley’s Birthday” – I do that almost every night. I also have a new album – Notes From The Underground. We’ll be doing that every night.

You have a recorder-friendly policy at your shows.

Pretty much. I guess I followed The Grateful Dead philosophy. I believe in the fans, and I believe in the way energy is created among them. So if they want to tape it, if they want to exchange the stuff, I ask them please not for any commercial purpose. And they’ve pretty much respected that.

How long have you had this policy?

Basically since they first started taping. I had bootlegs out back in vinyl days. There were a couple of real bootlegs that were sold on the market. I remember one that was called Mr. Blue that was out in ’77 or ’78. And another one from when I played the Montreux Jazz Festival in ’82. But since digital recording came out, you can’t stop the wave; you can’t stop the tide. So I’d rather go with it and just enjoy the synergy it creates.

As an artist that began in the vinyl days under the traditional recording industry business model, and as an independent artist today, is today’s digital world a liberating experience?

I did my first independently produced album in 1980. It was called Affairs. It was a six-song EP on vinyl.

At the time it really was necessity. I had to get something out. And I licensed it overseas to about six or seven different labels in different territories. I just thought I was doing what I had to do, and now they call me one of the pioneers of independent music. But at the time it just felt like this was the only road open to me.

Since that time, I really enjoy the freedom of being an independent artist. I can put out an album a year, and I can put anything I want out on those albums. I think that would be very difficult if I was on a major at this point.

Was your song “Ground Zero” an instant reaction to 9/11 or did that incubate for a while?

It was a while. It was months after. I was coming out of the pediatrician’s office with my son, and I got a call from my brother saying something had happened in New York.

All my family lived in New York – brother, mother, sister, everybody. He said a plane had crashed but he didn’t know the details.

And then I got back, and I was watching the World Trade Center come down. I remember they went up the year my first album came out – ’73. I just couldn’t believe it.

I had to play in Switzerland three days later and it was the hardest show I’ve ever done in my life. I could barely get through it. In fact, I canceled the next in Spain because I just couldn’t sing.

“Ground Zero” came out six months after that. It took a while incubating, and then it just came out. It was inspired.

What I found so heartbreaking after 9/11 was all those little notices that family and friends were putting up all around saying “Have you seen my brother?” “Have you seen my mother?” “Have you seen my father?” It was heartbreaking, and that’s where the chorus came from.

Who are you listening to these days?

A week ago I went to Aimee Mann’s concert in Paris. I’m a huge fan of hers. Of course, I’m listening to Bob Dylan’s new bootleg series. I’m listening to some old Dusty Springfield. I love her. I like the new John Mellencamp album. Lucinda Williams, I love her too. Mary Gauthier, I love her too. I tend to go toward the singer / songwriters. People who make a very personal statement.

But you’re also a rock ’n’ roller.

I’m also a rock ’n’ roller. I think I’ve bought every Rolling Stones album that ever came out. I’m always listening to Bruce. We’re friends, but I’m such a huge fan of his as well.

Regardless of the all the interviews you’ve done over the years, is there something you’ve been wanting to say, but no one ever asked you the right question?

Two things. Number on: What did you have for breakfast?

What did you have for breakfast?

I had meusli, orange juice and coffee, which I have just about every morning. When I interviewed people, that’s what I always asked them. When I interviewed Keith Richards, that’s what I asked him, but I think he told me he didn’t really eat breakfast.

Secondly, I guess, no one ever talks about what it was like to transition. Because in the ’70s with my first four albums, I very quickly went to the top of the rock ’n’ roll mountain. I remember in a year I went from food stamps to having my picture in Newsweek and The New Yorker and everywhere else. And no one asks me too much about how that felt. How I got over that and having to start from learning to walk – one step at a time.

From food stamps to Newsweek in one year. What was that like?

It was mind-boggling, and I wasn’t ready for it. I remember I met Lou Reed back then, and he gave me a piece of advice I didn’t follow. He said it was OK to read the bad reviews, but don’t read the good ones. Those will screw up your music.

And there were so many great reviews for Aquashow, I didn’t know who I was after that. They were telling me what I was. If they were criticizing me then, I could have said, “Oh, yeah. I’ll show you.”

But it was too positive. Who was I? Was I the next Bob Dylan? Was I the next F. Scott Fitzgerald of rock ’n’ roll? Was I the next Lou Reed? Who was I? So it was really quite difficult. I think my second album – Lost Generation – was a difficult album. Then I kind of found my footing again with Night Lights. But it was a long journey.

You’ve cited Velvet Underground and Lou Reed as inspirations.

I wrote the liner notes for 1969: The Velvet Underground Live before I ever recorded a note of music myself.
They said not many people saw the Velvet Underground, but everyone who did started a band.

Do you see the ’70s as the real start of your career, or was it when you moved to France?

I think the ’70s was the definite start of my career, and Aquashow put me on the map. And it keeps coming back. I think about a year ago Uncut magazine in the U.K. did a full-page review of it, calling it an album classic.

But I don’t think I really started to pay my dues until the ’80s and I started playing in Europe. I was at a dinner once with [Norwegian singer/songwriter] Eric Anderson. He started before me in the ’60s. I was kind of riding high there in the ’70s when I had dinner with him and he said, “You know, Elliot, you gotta pay your dues.”

And I remember, I was such a wise-ass, I said, “Eric, I like collecting dues better than paying them.”

And he was so right. Because once I really started getting out there and having to take care of my career … you know, I’ve been self-managed for so long I don’t even remember what it’s like to have a manager. So that’s when I really learned.
And I started having such tremendous respect for the old blues guys. My heroes stopped being the 25-year-old wonder kids, to being Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and B.B. King. The greats that have seen it all and keep going.

there anything Elliott Murphy fans still don’t know about Elliott Murphy?

In September, at one of the town halls here in Paris, there was an exposition of my career called “Last of the Rock Stars: a Retrospective.” And it was every photograph, album cover, poster and letter I had in my archive and the fans had in their archives.

I must say, when I looked at that … You know, I always feel I don’t work enough, but when I looked at that I felt like I was a workaholic. I don’t even remember doing all those albums and writing those books.

And I always think the songs know more about me than I know about the songs.