So you get in a mood and you start to hear a melody?
HIATT Yeah, I’ll start playing
a chord progression and then I’ll start singing to it, or moaning
or wailing or mumbling. The chords come first, the feeling that
comes out of the guitar, and then the melody. The lyrics are the
last thing for me, almost every time. The melody and the chords
seem to suggest something, and something will pop out of my mouth.
Do you write down a lot of lines and then edit what you have?
HIATT No, I don’t edit much.
I just keep playing and singing until it tells me what’s supposed
to be written down. I might scratch out a line, but I kind of
write it as I go. For me that’s all the fun of it. I don’t necessarily
know where it’s going when I write the first couple of lines.
Does the song also suggest to you what kind of instrumentation
it wants? What kind of album it should go on?
HIATT Yeah. "Lincoln Town"
is a song we tried to fit on some other albums, but it just seemed
like the treatment of it was so sort of jug band/old blues that
it didn’t fit with the records I’ve been making for the past three
or four albums. We tried cutting "Only the Song Survives"
as more of a rock song, a little more up-tempo, and it just never
quite worked. So I was really happy to get that song on this record.
I’ve been wanting to tell that story. It’s probably one of the
more abstract songs on the album. Most of the stuff is pretty
direct storytelling. That was a bit convoluted. My wife had an
accident a few years back where she flipped a car with my youngest
daughter in it, a quarter mile from our house—we live out in the
country. It rolled over like three times and landed in a ditch.
Both of them were fine, but I was panicked of course. My wife’s
hand had fallen out of the window and got banged up. Nothing was
broken, which was amazing, but they had to cut her wedding ring
off, which is a line in the song. And because of the possibility
of concussion, I had to wake her up a couple of times in the middle
of the night to ask her who she was and where she was and that
kind of thing. So, you know, sick songwriter brains—it’s always
all about us—I sort of flipped it over. The song kind of addresses
a question I get a lot: "Are your songs autobiographical?"
And this song says, "Not exactly." It’s not about my
life story; it’s about the song and whatever little vibe the song
is telling.
Speaking of asking questions, how did you get involved as
the host with Sessions at West 54th?
HIATT I was on the show
when David Byrne was hosting, and I guess I did most of the talking
in the interview he did with me [laughs]. So they said,
"Hey, do you want to be the host next year?" So, I think
it’s because I’m a blabbermouth.
Well, you seem to make the guests feel comfortable.
HIATT You know, hindsight is
20/20. I don’t think I asked the tough questions, whatever the
hell those are, but I was more intent on establishing empathy
because I’ve been there and it is uncomfortable. It’s uncomfortable
for artists to talk about themselves. It’s not like we sit around
and think about what it is we do. We just do it. It was really
interesting to meet all those different artists and to hear all
that music. We taped 41 different bands in a 30-day period! It
was intense. This was back in October.
Which acts did you find the most interesting?
HIATT George Clinton blew my
mind. He was awesome. John Prine was great. I was knocked out
by Moby. I thought he was really onto something and had a roots
approach to electronics, a real soul and a real intelligence too.
Iggy Pop is just fascinating to me . . . the Neville Brothers
. . . Los Lobos. I think Los Lobos is one of the greatest bands
ever. We just did a show with them the other night, and they killed
me.
Did Sessions lead to any musical collaborations for
you?
HIATT No. I talked about it
with a few people. Marianne Faithfull asked me to write a song
with her. And I thought, "Oh yeah, any time." But nothing’s
come of it yet. You know, we’re all weird, us show folks. You
never know what’s going to happen.
Have you written with others in the past?
HIATT I don’t do it very much.
And it’s pure selfishness. I just enjoy the process of songwriting--just
me--so much that I don’t think of taking the time to cowrite.
It doesn’t ring my bell. I’m sure I could write some great songs
and probably make a whole lot of money, but it just doesn’t appeal
to me as much as the way I write songs. It’s so thrilling for
me to sit there and make something out of nothing. I’m singing
something and it’s starting to add up to something, and I always
feel underqualified, like I’ve never written a song before! It’s
weird. But I love that. It’s exciting. I’ve written songs and
gone out into the yard afterwards and wept and thanked whatever
the great spirit is for putting me in touch with this thing.
So you’re never writing a song with another performer in mind?
HIATT Through the years I’ve
been asked, and I’ve tried, but I can’t do it [laughs].
I’m just not good at made-to-order writing. But what’s given me
a career as a writer who gets covered is that I write a lot.
So there are always lots of songs.
And other artists cover songs that you’ve already recorded?
HIATT No, a lot of times they
get ahold of the publishing company, and the publishing company
will call me and say, "So-and-so is recording." It’s
like casting. "Yeah, I’ve got this thing I wrote four years
ago, and I’ve never recorded it. Maybe this would work."
It must be interesting to hear another artist’s take on one of
your songs.
HIATT It’s really exciting.
The biggest thrill is when you hear one of your songs on the radio
sung by another artist. That’s like a double pat on the back.
Well, you’ve got "Riding with the King" all over the
radio right now.
HIATT That’s really cool. Eric
[Clapton] and B.B. [King] did such a great job, and they’re two
of my heroes. I think Eric got the song from my publishing company.
A young fellow who’s on top of it out there in Los Angeles, I
think his name is Benjamin, sends my stuff around when people
are recording. Thanks, Ben! And then Eric called me and said,
"We’d love to do this song." And I said, "Oh man,
it would be an honor." And he said, "I wonder if we
could change a few lines to make it a little more about B.B. King."
Because it was originally about Elvis. So I rewrote the bridge.
The original bridge was "A red cape and a shiny Colt .45"
and the new bridge is "A tuxedo and a shiny 335," for
B.B. King, "You look into his face and you know the blues
is alive."
When will that rock ’n’ roll record you made before Crossing
Muddy Waters come out?
HIATT Probably just before next
summer, late spring.
Also on Vanguard?
HIATT I don’t know. There are
a few labels lined up, but I like this free agency thing. I make
a record and sort of lease it to them for a period of time—four
or five years—and then I get it back [laughs]. I’m kind
of digging that.
Is it the same deal with your music publishing?
HIATT I’m hooked up with BMG
Music. But that’s a lease deal as well. Eventually—in about 15
or 20 years—I get back my copyrights. I’m trying to have something
to leave my kids. I like the fact that they’ll control copyright,
because I don’t necessarily want my songs used for Nike ads [laughs].
I know we’re all for sale, but I still don’t think Jimi Hendrix
intended for his song to be selling Hyundais!
Excerpted
from
Acoustic Guitar
magazine, December 2000, No. 96.
