(Writer’s Note: What follows is most of the text of a conversation between me and Adrian Niles, a new friend I made back in 1995 on a mutual friend’s deck in East Ohio. Now, we’re two grown men who have been through some life during our lives so the language is PG-Rated.)
The pandemic induced a break neither of us saw coming. Not after that time or “that one time.” Not after some of the conversations that no one else could have followed or possibly understood because, sometimes, we really didn’t either. That’s where the laughter came into play.
Toss in a Matt Heusel and, first, thank The Lord for his existence, and second, double if not triple the harmony of the roar.
Yeah, there were phones that could have been dialed, and computer keyboards, too, but that’s not how the dynamics worked. It was more of an in-person thing with our low, mumble tones that made all the sense in the world because we said so. It was an eye-to-eye thing, too, with those unspoken junctures when the grins sufficed.
“Hey man, I decided to go back on the air. I got a new show,” I told Adrian when I saw him at one of his shows. “Wanna do what we used to do, man?“
So that’s what we did this past Wednesday afternoon on River Talk-Wheeling 100.1 FM, and I heard about the evolution of his creative process, someone named Grandfather Buzzard, the records he wrote, sang, and produced for Distant Skies while stoked with all that virus virility, and about his view from the backseat, too.
So, how’d music change for you, man? Where ya at?
It’s like it’s metaphysical music, but I’m not really even sure what that means. It’s like when you think you know, but you don’t know. It’s just a feeling that I have, that people have, that makes me wonder why I’ve kept doing this all these years. It comes down to … there’s a drive. There’s something in there regardless of people buying records or coming to shows or anything like that because the success is very minimal for me. I don’t have a huge amount of success or a lot of things I’ve accomplished in my life.
But I just keep doing it because there’s this thing about it that I can’t quite figure out. It just drives me. It’s the same thing with you and your writing, man. You don’t write for people. You write for yourself, and if people like it, they like it, and if they don’t, (eff) ‘em. And that’s basically the metaphysics of music for me.
Sounds as if a lot has remained the same, man.
In a way, yeah, but there are differences.
I guess I am still trying to figure it out … trying to put science to it. You try to think about it. You try to figure it out. What is music, and why do I want to create it so badly. Why do I want to write lyrics? Why do I want t put music to that? Why do I want to create these albums? Why do I want to produce all this stuff and spend this money to get it all made? And to put them out there when most of the time they get overlooked?
Why do I want to keep doing all that? Well, it’s because that’s who I am, and it’s what has always driven me. Maybe it’s not about failure and success. No, it’s definitely not about winning any competitions or some popularity contest because I’ve never really fit into any one group. I know that now. I guess it’s my destiny to write my music, and play my music, and record my music in these little spaces and just try to put them through these little cracks so some other people might hear them.
So you can keep telling new chapters of your story, right?
No, not really, because it’s the same story all of the time. It’s that fucked up story about where you’re going on your way from childhood to adulthood, and you just run the gamut, man. It’s the same story about what happens along that path. You can tell it in a lot of different ways, and sometimes you get really creative with it. Sometimes you put it into terms of a relationship, and that’s another way of telling it. I’m a pattern guy and music is all about patterns to me. I just want to put them all together to see if that tells me what life is all about. I can tell you the music is not about getting attention. I’m not one who asks for interviews because when I’m asked questions, well, I don’t know. Some people seem to know everything about their music, and they enjoy explaining it. I don’t know about my music.
The last time I saw you on stage, it was with Ananga Martin back in late April, and it was odd for me not to see you singing lead for the first time in a long while.
But I don’t mind taking the back seat. I’ve been doing that my whole life because it’s not about where you sit in the car. It’s about the fact that you’re in the car. I just want to go on that cruise, and that may sound odd, but think about it. You can see a lot on those cruises. At least I know I do, and that’s why I don’t mind where I sit.
I don’t do what I do because I’m good at it. I don’t think any artist thinks they’re good. There’s just something that drives me to go out and perform and to write and to do all of the other stuff that goes with it. I just want to do it because, for me, it’s fun, man. There’s no other life I want to live. Why would I want to do anything different than that?
