By Nicki Escudero
By Amy Silverman
By Brian Palmer
By Chris Parker
By Troy Farah
By Lauren Wise
By Lauren Wise
"We paid attention to bringing rock 'n' roll back to rock 'n' roll, which is a three-minute song with not a bunch of extended guitar leads -- what punk rock was about -- and we tried to give our side of that and make our contribution."
John Doe, bassist and co-vocalist of the great, once-but-no-longer-late X, is reflecting rather understatedly upon his band's legacy. In these days of pop-machine industry overkill glitz, a little bit of humility goes a long way. But on the occasion of Rhino Records' expanded remasters of the first three X albums -- 1980's Los Angeles, 1981's Wild Gift and 1982's Under the Big Black Sun -- Doe would be well within his rights to slap on a huge sandwich board announcing the reissues and parade down his old prowling grounds of L.A.'s Sunset Strip.
X brought to the table an uncommon level of musicianship; songwriting that was steeped equally in Americana traditions and impressionistic-poetic firsthand narrative; and a decisive, charismatic group chemistry. In Kristine McKenna's liner notes for the Rhino discs the band is described as being "like Botticelli's Venus on the half shell . . . fully formed and perfect . . . gorgeous and glamorous. . . . Stage right was [guitarist] Billy Zoom. Blond, pale and so cool he was glacial. Center stage was Exene [Cervenka, vocalist] . . . narrow hips of a child, the full bosom of a femme fatale, the exaggerated makeup of a silent film star, and a fabulous fashion sense. Stage left was John Doe, tall and lean, jet-black hair, a sweet, open face and voluptuous mouth, equal parts Woody Guthrie and Elvis Presley. Bringing up the rear was drummer D.J. Bonebrake. It was if Billy, Exene and John were riding bolts of lightning pounded out by Zeus at the drum kit. . . . X was on fire from the very start. Punk bands of that era tended to be sloppy, but X was tight, and you never worried that one of them might take a wrong turn and derail the show."
Doe, acknowledging similar praise X garnered over the years, observes, "One thing that made writers want to write about us was that we had fairly intelligent lyrics. Writers like to write about that. If it wasn't for the press, X wouldn't have gotten nearly the attention that it did. And as far as what the band's strengths were, it was Exene's gift for crazy, or unique, harmony, the fact that there were two vocalists and not just one, and Billy Zoom bringing rock 'n' roll guitar à la Chuck Berry into punk rock. [He pauses, then laughs.] The songs were good, too!"
In January 1980, X entered the studio with Ray Manzarek to record its debut album. At that stage the two-year-old band was already on top of L.A.'s club heap and beginning to penetrate the national consciousness. Three albums would result from the fruitful Manzarek-X collaboration -- but why the former Doors keyboardist? Why not some safety-pinned, ripped-shirt contemporary?
Says Doe, "You know, when the Doors recorded, at least until the fourth album, they were capturing what they did live. On our albums, primarily the first two, we were doing what we sounded like live, and adding a few little extras, and making sure the vocals were in tune and had meaning. To Ray's credit, he didn't mess with it. He didn't try to fix it when it wasn't broken. Just turned it on and let it rip. He comes from a pretty serious blues background, which is 'capture the moment and make it real.' For us, when Ray Manzarek said he wanted to work with us, it was a huge affirmation. He was a real bona fide rock icon. He was saying, 'Your stuff is worthwhile.' And we were -- floored! It was a good marriage."
Indeed it was. Those three albums remain stone classics of napalm-and-velvet explosions.
Los Angeles has an edgy, almost apocalyptic tone, as befits many punk artifacts; the band's economy of motion, buzz saw or otherwise, was equally well-suited to the times. (Included, tellingly, was a Stooges-like treatment of the Doors' "Soul Kitchen.") Wild Gift is a more serene, self-assured document. By this stage, Cervenka and Doe had gotten married, and the album's tunes have a sensual churn, even on the more jackhammer moments, all underscored by poetic, noirish wordplay. Under the Big Black Sun marked a contractual shift from punk indie Slash to the Doors' old home, Elektra. It also signaled a shift toward increased production values and a greater musical variety -- as if, by noting that in '82 punk was all but dead (along with many of the band's closest associates), the band must pursue the zeitgeist wherever it might dart. Creepy cinematic blues, surf-garage, Tin Pan Alley flirtations, blue-collar folk-rock paeans -- it's a masterpiece statement that afforded the group significant artistic depth for future transition. (Doe indicates Rhino plans to similarly expand/remaster the next three X albums in April or May of 2002.)
Pairing the X back catalogue with Rhino was, for Doe, "a natural. Rhino offered us an opportunity to have our records in stores. They haven't been, which pissed me off. So we just jumped at it! 'You're gonna put out each individual CD? Excellent!' There had been that crappy two-for-one CD on Slash with the first two albums, so that alone is worth it. 'We're gonna be able to put in bonus tracks? Even better! And we're gonna be able to put in a 10-page booklet and Rhino has excellent distribution and is the king of the fucking hill where it comes to reissuing and compilations?'"