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As Elvis Costello's producer, Nick Lowe had a direct hand in this year's best rock album, This Year's Model.
As Nick Lowe, vocalist and guitar player, Lowe has made this year's second best rock album, Pure Pop for Now People.
So, if you're looking for objectivity, go back to section one. For my money, Lowe, along with Costello, is the most positive force to emerge in pop since the form was ravaged by heavy metal madness and disco drivel. And Lowe knows it.
"I think that musicians as a whole are a stupid bunch," he says, speaking from a publicist's office in New York. "It all died somewhere in the late '60s when those bozos started thinking they had to write a load of pompous bull that shared the secret of life with some cretin who wouldn't know it if he heard it. These groups take one idea and pad it out for some 15 minute suite or something, and bore everyone to tears. They take the fun out of pop. It's obscene, actually."
"All we're doing, people like Costello and Ian Dury and myself, is playing the music straight down the line. It's the idea that's important, capturing that idea."
Lowe is currently in the midst of a tour which brings him and his group, Rockpile, to Wilson Auditorium at University of Cincinnati this Wednesday evening. He is opening, of course, for the king, Costello.
"It's an ideal tour for me," Lowe says, "because we both attract the same fans, the Anglophiles. Anyway, I do my 45 minutes and get the crowd geared, and then Mink DeVille does a set, and by the time Elvis comes on, with his lurking about the stage and all, things are strange, indeed.
"We're going down fine, it's good fun. The only cities we haven't made it in were Cleveland and Detroit. You know, in England, we have this mythology about America, about these rock 'n' roll cities that are incredible to play. But it's a myth. In Cleveland, most of those buggers wouldn't know rock 'n' roll if it bit them on the... ankle. Cleveland is limp as a Kleenex."
In England, Lowe's album (there titled Jesus of Cool) rests comfortably in the top 10 and his singles climb the charts effortlessly. There, the 31-year-old is almost a institution, gaining notice as a member of Brinsley Schwarz before moving on to work with Dave Edmunds and Graham Parker, finally beginning his solo career at Stiff Records. Stiff was established in 1976 as an alternative to the major companies, a watering shed for artists who wanted to experiment, develop and maintain control over their own music. Costello and Lowe have both left Stiff, heading for the greener pastures of CBS.
"Actually Elvis and I had different reasons for leaving," Lowe said. "Mine was that Stiff had developed into this cliquey, trendy little club, and I hated that. Anyway, we proved what we set out to do, that is, get hits without a load of interference from people who didn't know the first thing about pop music. But it was a company of enthusiasts. Everyone was into the music, but no one was into the accounting and the boring jobs. I had to leave."
It was CBS' idea for the title change for the LP, with corporate honchos fearing repercussions from religious groups. For a man used to making his own decisions, Lowe takes the move in stride:
"I think it was a good Idea, actually. Not for the official reason, but because I think Pure Pop for Now People is more descriptive to an audience that isn't familiar with what I do. It's an album of styles, very immediate and poppy."
Pure Pop is just that, a primer for anyone interested in the sheer power of pop music. Lowe's interesting, intelligent lyrics glide over sparkling, timeless rock motifs that render most contemporary music ancient. It's extremely hard to appreciate, say, the new Bette Midler LP after an evening with Pure Pop.
Lowe's nickname is "Basher" a tag hung on him for his production style, which he describes as "bash it down and tart it up."
"The record was recorded very quickly," he says, "which is the way I work. I get an idea, and I want to get it down on tape, to capture the moment. After I have the music down, then I go back and fool around with echoes and things like that. It's style and spirit that's important to me, not riffs. I want the records to smell a bit, you know? I mean, I'll pinch a riff from the Bee Gees for God's sake if I think it'll work in a song I'm doing. I don't care. I steal Muzak, TV ads, anything actually."
Lowe does steal, but usually ends up producing better music than that from which he was inspired. For example, "I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass," is better Bowie. "Nutted by Reality" out McCartneys McCartney. And "Rollers Show," a tongue-in-cheek ditty about going to see a Bay City Rollers concert, is an update of "Chapel of Love," with Lowe easily capturing Phil Spector's elusive production style.
"Our music isn't supposed to be comedy, even though a lot of it is funny. "But all of it, ultimately, should be fun," Lowe says. "Our link to the Beatles, even the Rolling Stones, is that they had that element to their music. The worst thing that's happened to pop in the '70s is that the stupid sods took the fun out."
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