“I just got off the phone with Duane Eddy,
how cool is that?” asks Big Al Anderson.
Funny how such a talented man as the inimitable
Big Al can be so lost in his own fandom as to
be oblivious to the level of musical respect he's
achieved during some 40+ years in the music business.
Now I wonder, how cool is it that I just got off
the phone with Big Al? It’s not every day
that you get to talk to a living legend
Following a noteworthy stint as founder of the
mid-to-late 60s soul/pop band the Wildweeds, Anderson
spent 25 years with one of the most underrated
groups of all time, The New Rhythm and Blues Quartet.
Known more commonly, of course, as NRBQ, the group
did (and still does) not merely dabble in R&B,
but also deals heavily in authentic American country,
blues, jazz, and some of the sweetest, sunniest
guitar pop not emanating from Liverpool or Hawthorne.
After some 15 albums and a grinding 200 dates
a year on the road, earning a reputation (and
a living) as one of the greatest rock 'n' roll
guitarists, period, Anderson finally checked out
of the proverbial Red Roof Inn in ‘93, bidding
adieu once and for all to the life of a touring
musician. The classic Quartet of Anderson, bass
player Joey Spampinato, keyboardist Terry Adams,
and drummer Tom Ardolino were together for an
astounding 23 years without variation. Anderson,
Spampinato, and Adams are all great songwriters,
players, and singers in their own right, and all
could’ve fronted bands. Spampinato has a
reputation as being one of the finest bass players
in the business, and at one time recently he was
even courted by The Rolling Stones. And while
the jazz influenced Adams might be main writer
and the real genius of the group, I have always
gotten the impression from seeing him play that
he is as freaked out and psychotic in real life
as he is on stage. After talking to Anderson,
though, I know I must be wrong. Exasperated with
my relentless questioning at one point, Al finally
asked, “Have you talked to Terry? He remembers
everything.” Nevertheless, Big Al seemed
a perfect choice to interview for his personality,
his musicality, and the unique legacy that he
has carried on for eclectic electric rock guitarists.
He moved into a full-time career as a songwriter
and session man in Nashville, the country music
capital of the universe. Since Anderson's departure,
NRBQ has continued to tour and make fine records
with bass player Joey Spampanato’s brother
Johnny taking over for the irreplaceable Anderson.
Fans agree though, though, with all due respect,
that NRBQ will never be the same.
“Little Al” made his first recording
on guitar and voice at the age of 10 on a home
recording device owned by a family friend. The
golden throated lad did a take of the Everly Brothers'
“Bye Bye Love” (which floats around
record collectors' circles on a rare EP) that
is still better than anything most of us could
ever manage. Stints in teen rock bands like the
Visuals and the Six-Packs followed, before the
Wildweeds coalesced around tough east-coast R&B,
soul, folk-rock, and rave-up garage rockers--in
short, the '60s musical cauldron. Needless to
say, Anderson grew-up in a musically supportive
atmosphere. His mother, a pianist, and his bass
playing father even had an AM radio at one time
in their home in Connecticut. His musical influences
during his garage band teenage years were not
only Chet Atkins, Ray Charles, and Duane Eddy,
but also, notably, The Beatles and The Beach Boys.
Anderson, a man who has never had to work another
job except music, has gone on to achieve enormous
success and top songwriting accolades in the Music
City. His songs have been recorded by almost all
the big names in the business from LeAnn Rimes
to George Jones, and he has co-written with a
fascinating variety of songwriters--from old-school
guitar great Duane Eddy to John Hiatt, from Miles
Zuniga (Fastball) to alt-country twangster Robbie
Fulks. However, to fans of the beloved ‘Q
(as NRBQ’s name is further shortened to),
those beloved recordings made with Anderson between
’71 and ’79 contain some of the greatest
pop gems never heard. On any given song, NRBQ
could be just as good as The Beatles, if not better.
They were just that good.
Throughout a life in music, perhaps because he
has spent a lifetime making a sandwich just to
the left of the mainstream spotlight, Big Al has
maintained an affable, down-to-earth charm that
makes him easy to talk to. When I approached Pop
Culture Press associate editor Kent Benjamin about
doing this interview, he relayed a humorous anecdote
to me about how he saw Big Al walking down the
street in Austin at the SXSW music festival. Benjamin
dropped to his knees in front of Anderson, genuflecting
and bowing to the Great One. “He did not
look amused,” said Benjamin. In what I discovered
to be typical fashion, Anderson had no recollection
of this event. “I don’t remember much
from the 70s and 80s,” laments the now sober
Anderson, who took a ride down the same road of
indulgence that has claimed the memories of so
many musicians. When I finally got my chance to
talk to Big Al for this interview, he was on his
cell phone at Sam's Wholesale Club shopping for
a chair for his home in Santa Fe, New Mexico (where
he lives half the time, and half in Nashville).
PCP: Let’s talk about some of the music
you were into when you were coming onto the scene.
I know you liked Chet Atkins, Duane Eddy, and
Ray Charles—but what about pop? You obviously
loved The Beatles?
BA: Big time!
PCP: Which stuff?
BA: Early Beatles was better, period. It was just
more fun. You couldn’t pay me to sit through
Sgt. Pepper but I could get through Beatles for
Sale in a heartbeat.
PCP: Where you good at figuring out their songs?
BA: I thought I was, but I’ve met people
who can do it better.
PCP: What about The Beach Boys?
BA: Oh, yeah. “Don’t Worry Baby”
drove me nuts. In my bedroom. That’s when
they started to get really cool. Everyone says
he [Brian Wilson] did his best work on Pet Sounds,
but I’ve always thought it was “Warmth
of the Sun,” stuff like that. I even told
him so. I think he agrees with me, though he’s
reluctant to admit it.
PCP: What’s the story there?
BA: It was at a session for a Jerry Lee Lewis
album that Andy Paley was working on. Brian was
there and I got a chance to talk to him.
PCP: Was he bright?
BA: Are you kidding? The guy's a genius!
PCP: He just seems kind of shell-shocked. It’s
hard to tell how much is really there.
BA: He’s different when the camera’s
not on him. I think he knows a lot more than he
lets on to.
PCP: Who else did you like?
BA: The Troggs. The Kinks. I’m in a big
Kinks phase at the moment. What was that one with
“Waterloo Sunset” on it?
PCP: Something Else by the Kinks
BA: Yes (sings a bar or two of “Two Sisters”).
Ray Davies was very folk-oriented in a different
way; in the English tradition.
PCP: Did you like The Left Banke?
BA: They were a great band. “She may Call
you up Tonight,” that was a cool song. Had
a weird bridge though.
PCP: “Pretty Ballerina,” is one of
my favorites.
BA: Yeah, that’s kind of obvious though.
Mercury put out a mono and stereo version of that
record. I’ve got ‘em both [Anderson
is an avid record collector].
PCP: It’s interesting to me that
you were into that pop stuff in addition to
all of the country, blues, and soul that you
were into. My dad for instance was only interested
in black music in the '60s. Motown, Stax, Atlantic,
James Brown, Chuck Berry, etc. He only liked
the Rolling Stones because he thought they were
a black group.
BA: That’s not bad stuff to be listening
to. Black was usually better. Motown is another
one nobody ever talks about in terms of great
songwriting.
PCP: Is that the style of songwriting that you
refer to your songwriting motto, “Make Dumb
Good?”
BA: No, Motown was just plain good. There was
nothing dumb about it. NRBQ weren’t ‘make
dumb good’ either. They looked innocent
on the outside, but they were really professors.
PCP: I always thought that ‘make dumb good’
was all about acknowledging that pop music is
dumb in it’s essence and trying to make
it good nonetheless.
BA: No, it’s hard to explain unless I really
get into it.
PCP: Can you give me an example?
BA: Let's see, do you know The Sir Douglas Quintet?
PCP: No, the name rings a bell, but…”
BA: “She’s about a Mover.”
PCP: Oh sure. I guess I can see how that’s
dumb.
BA: But it’s good.
PCP: I would think that Ray Charles would be a
particularly big influence on you because he did
both soul and country.
BA: He didn’t do country until much later.
His earlier stuff on Atlantic was far superior.
PCP: Like “Hit the Road Jack” and
that kind of stuff?
BA: Yes. When he did do country they had him recording
with white choruses. They just made him sound
that much better. Ray was another one that knew
that there were no boundaries in music.
PCP: Anybody else you can think about at present?
BA: Definitely the Everly Brothers. Those were
just the greatest records ever made. People were
so relaxed about making records back then. The
musicians. You can just hear it in the recordings.
Lieber/Stoller too. For a couple of Jewish guys,
they could really rock. Whoever it was that played
the piano—can’t remember if it was
Jerry or Mike, was really incredible.
PCP: Who did they write for? Elvis?
BA: Yeah, and they did all The Coasters. They
did Peggy Lee’s “Is That All There
Is.”
PCP: That’s an incredible song. An existential
pop song nonetheless. I’ve always thought
that one of the marks of a great artist is when
they are able to show great talent right out of
the starting gate. Like Dylan with “The
Times are a’Changin’” or The
Beach Boys with “Surfer Girl.” I mean,
it was all there if you think about it. The same
could be said about NRBQ’s early output.
“Magnet,” “Flat Foot Flewzy...”
BA: That’s my favorite ‘Q right there.
Those first two albums.
PCP: See I actually don’t have the first
NRBQ album. It’s not out on CD. What I have
is the compilation that Columbia put out. (Stay
with Me, an erroneously titled ‘best of’
collection containing half of NRBQ’s first
album, a couple of cuts off their semi-second
album Boppin the Blues [with Carl Perkins], a
couple of cuts off their official second album
Scraps [their first with Big Al], and a few miscellaneous
cutting-room clippings).
BA: They own all that stuff. It’s probably
a good thing you don’t have that first album.
It was a bad pressing. If you look along the serial
number that goes around the inner circle you’ll
see “AoB,” which stands for awful
or bad. That’s probably one of the reasons
that album didn’t make it.
PCP: Well, although it’s misleading to new
fans, and certainly not a ‘best-of.’
What I’ve heard from that first album on
Stay with Me is amazing and shows the band at
full power. A new fan is going to lose out either
way they go, because the other ‘best-of,’
Peek-a-Boo, is a double-disc 20-year retrospective.
It’s just too much too fast. It’s
good for fans, sure, but not for the uninitiated.
I think if somebody were smart they would package
a single-volume collection of late 60s and 70s
NRBQ pure pop geared specifically towards pop
fans. What with The Beach Boys, The Byrds, Moby
Grape, and The Left Banke being as popular now
as ever before. There’s a huge market for
that right now.
BA: What, of 60s pop music? Yeah, no kidding!
PCP: Like Sundazed for instance. They’re
putting out all kinds of crazy obscure stuff from
the sixties.
BA: They just put out the Wildweeds album. Did
a beautiful job on it.
PCP: I really think, Al, that along with all the
country, blues, jazz, and just plain out-there
shit, NRBQ had some brilliant pop, definitely
enough to make an unbelievable collection.
BA: People have to classify everything. That’s
one thing that was always difficult for NRBQ,
is that people could never say what it was.
PCP: Also, I would call it “New Rhythm and
Blues Quartet,” the full proper name if
you will. And market it to British audiences.
“NRBQ” just sounds too much like Bar-B-Q.
People might think you’re a funk band…
BA: Huh, I never thought of that.
PCP: I’m only kidding. Plus, long names
are cool right now. Like that sixties group, The
West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, they’re
pretty big right now. You should cash in on that.
Put a cool picture on the cover...
BA: What’s stopping you?
PCP: Ah, I don’t have any money. I’m
just a dreamer. Let’s talk briefly about
that semi-second NRBQ LP, Boppin’ the Blues.
That was still before you joined
BA: That was a great record. I mean “Flat
Foot Flewzy,” as you mentioned earlier.
I still can’t play that intro.
PCP: Yes you can sir…
BA: No, I can...but Fergie (original NRBQ guitarist,
Steve Ferguson) could play it cleaner. The best
guitarist ever to play rock 'n' roll. Every note
he played counted. He came from the Lonnie Mack
tradition, Never bent or slurred a note.
PCP: Good thing for you, but why did he leave
the group?
BA: I don’t know. Needed to do some stuff
by himself I suppose [whether or not this is true,
the amazing Ferguson, who left NRBQ in 1970, remained
in relative seclusion until the last few years.
He is now actively making recordings and performing
again].
PCP: One of the most interesting things about
this story is that you were a big fan of NRBQ
and especially inspired by Steve Ferguson’s
playing before joining the band. And you didn’t
know those guys, did you?
BA: No.
PCP: When NRBQ asked you to audition were you
excited?
BA: Oh yeah, I was big into those guys.
PCP: Did you think that you were going to be the
next Beatles?
BA: No, but I knew I was joining the best band
going.
PCP What had really happened to The Wildweeds.
Can you explain how that fell apart?
BA: We were trying to keep up with what we weren’t.
Soul was changing on the radio in a way that we
didn’t want.
PCP: It’s interesting when I think back
to my childhood. At the same time when NRBQ were
influencing you, they were influencing me. I remember
my dad playing the NRBQ when my sister and I were
little. Along with jazz, and The Beatles. We thought
it was funny music. “Come on if you’re
Coming,” “Kentucky Slop Song,”
stuff like that. It was very unpretentious, and
unlike today’s music. There was no irony.
It was just honest fun music.
BA: I think that’s why I liked it too.
PCP: I think we knew that it was like Sundays
and pancakes. NRBQ reflected our down to earth,
unglamorous reality.
BA: We weren’t thinking any of that. We
were just doing what we liked to do.
PCP: Of course. This is coming from the eyes of
a three-year-old. It’s just the way time
works though. Once stuff gets crystallized in
the past and we can hold it, we can say these
kinds of things about.
BA: True, time is the judge. That’s where
the ‘Q is gonna luck out. If they can just
hang in there ‘til they’re 75, they’ll
be Ambassadors of Music walking around Washington
D.C. like Lionel Hamptons.
PCP: I think another reason why I dig NRBQ so
much now is the musicianship. There’s always
the possibility in an NRBQ record that at any
given time a song could drift out of orbit into
something entirely transcendent of rock &
roll. I was talking to my Dad the other day about
the piano break in “Yes Yes Yes.”
It’s just so magnificent and complex. Something
The Beatles never could have done.
BA: It started out as a jazz song. The Beatles
never let things really get out of control like
that because they come from The British school,
where everything must be done properly. There
wasn’t a whole lot of room for spontaneity.
I think a lot of has to do with Terry (Adams--keyboardist
and principle songwriter) being into jazz and
so influenced by jazz.
PCP: Were there other bands that you felt were
transcendent in this way at the time? The Mothers
of Invention, for instance?
BA: Naw, never got into them. Don’t know
why. But another group that was from outer space
was The Band. Their second album, titled just
The Band is one of my favorites. That, and The
Last Waltz is very enjoyable. Those guys could
all really play.
PCP: Having been in a band where you were the
lead singer, writer, and guitarist, what did NRBQ
want you for originally? As a singer?
BA: Well, everybody sang. Everybody wrote. It
wasn’t structured like that. They just brought
me in.
PCP: And you did whatever you could with that
synergy?
BA: More or less. Whatever chemistry we had we
just went for it. There were no roles.
PCP: I guess I forget that NRBQ originally had
a singer in Frankie Gadler (an excellent one at
that). When all you other guys started singing
your own songs, I guess there wasn’t anything
left for him to do. Where there situations where
you would sing songs that the other wrote, or
was it pretty much like the Beatles where you
could tell who wrote the song by who sang it?
BA: Pretty much like that. Sometimes me or Joey
would sing one of Terry’s songs if it was
straining his voice, but sometimes that sounded
really cool to let him just go for it anyway.
PCP: Let’s talk about one of my all-time
favorites, 1972s Scraps! This was the first album
that you were with the band, but you were unable
to sing on the record?
BA: That’s right. Because of my contract
with Vanguard [The Wildweeds' label].
PCP: What about that Scraps Companion CD that’s
out?
BA: I think that’s was a radio show out
of Memphis’ Ardent studio...
PCP: Where Big Star recorded?
BA: Yes. It was basically my first gig.
PCP: Is it like The Byrds’ Sweetheart of
the Rodeo album where Gram Parsons couldn’t
sing, even though he was really the singer of
those songs and sang them live? Remember on the
record, McGuinn sings.
BA: No. I wasn’t really singing much. They
let me sing “Come on if you’re Comin’.”
They had cut that for the first ‘Q record,
but I sang it live. We actually re-cut it on [1973's]
Workshop with me singing.
PCP: Wasn’t that song also in your repertoire
before joining NRBQ?
BA: Yeah, I think it was on my first solo album
[Al’s 1971’s contract-breaker with
Vanguard titled simply Al Anderson].
PCP: In those days you would just go into the
studio and cut tunes, right? It wasn’t like
you went in to make albums necessarily?
BA: No, the album format didn’t really come
in ‘til ‘68.
PCP: Well Scraps is a great album. It’s
the first to be properly released on CD. On Rounder.
They did a beautiful job with it. It looks great.
It’s got bonus tracks. Plus it’s got
some of my favorite songs, like “Magnet.”
BA: Yes. “It’s Not So Hard”
is a great song too for pop.
PCP: Definitely. A real obvious Beatles/Byrds
sound on that one. That 12-string guitar...
BA: That’s not a 12. That’s me and
Terry. Him on a clavinet and me doubling on guitar.
PCP: Wow, that’s a great sound. I think
that you are definitely one of the closest things
to George Harrison in terms of that tradition
of fusing country, pop, r&b, and jazz.
BA: Except I had hits where he didn’t.
PCP: Like what?
BA: “Ridin’ in my Car,” “Get
Rhythm...”
PCP: Well, I’m sure that you’re a
better player than George, but what I always thought
was his greatest attribute was his mind. A lot
of those solos really wrote themselves because
John or Paul gave him such interesting chord changes
to work with.
BA: His were really more “parts” than
“solos.”
PCP: But in my book, parts are better than solos.
A solo can be good like on a 12-bar blues song,
but for pop, a well-thought out part is the way
to go. You had some great parts--like the lead
guitar on “Mona” or “That’s
Alright.”
BA: Another thing about George is that he didn’t
play with his thumb.
PCP: What, on his fretting hand?
BA: Yes. And that really limited him. So when
you hear him playing that intro to “I Feel
Fine,” he’s playing that with his
finger barred across the whole guitar. That had
a lot to do with his sound.
PCP: And then following Scraps was 1973's Workshop,
an album I can only assume is filled with pop
gems based on the few tunes I know off it, like
the infectious “I’ve Got a Little
Secret,” and the Rubber Soul- influenced
“Mona.” Yet inexplicably, it remains
unreleased on CD to this day. An album from the
high-point of NRBQ’s legacy! What is the
story?! Somebody is really dropping the ball on
this one.
BA: “Mona” was one of Joey’s
songs. I love Joey’s songs. They have a
million chords in ‘em. And that album was
issued on CD. It was called RC Cola and a Moonpie.
PCP: That was only released on LP, Al. That was
in ‘86.
BA: Well, Rounder has all that stuff. I guess
with the ‘Q, you’ll just have to wait
for the boxed set. It’ll all be out at some
point.
PCP: Then NRBQ kind of disappeared for a few years?
BA: We were playing some 200 dates a year. When
we weren’t in the studio, we were working
harder than ever.
PCP: 1977’s All Hopped-Up has the incredible
Byrdsy “That’s Alright” and
also one of the greatest pop songs of all time
on it: “Ridin’ in my Car.” That
surely must have been influenced by the Beach
Boys [Note: All Hopped-Up was issued on CD only
just last year, as Ridin In My Car]
BA: Oh yes. The tag especially mimics the Beach
Boys. The 3 on top of a 1-3-5 harmony [sings a
bar].
PCP: Likewise, “Feel you Around Me”
which you wrote years later. That sounds a lot
like late 70s Beach Boys.
BA: I forgot all about that song. I originally
wrote it on the piano. That was just me hammering
on one note. But I don’t think it was influenced
by the Beach Boys 70s work. I wasn’t listening
to their current records at the time.
PCP: “Ridin’ In My Car” was
then also put on the next album, 1978’s
landmark At Yankee Stadium. What was the story
with that?
BA: That was at the urging of the guy from Blood
Sweat and Tears…
PCP: Al Kooper?
BA: No, but there was a guy who was at the right
place at the right time, lotsa times! It was Steve
Katz. He thought that would be a great song to
put on the album.
PCP: I think so too because it gives the album
a nice strong poppy finish to balance things out.
Then when that album came out on CD, that “Ridin’”
is conspicuously missing. What gives?
BA: Mercury decided to make it a cut-out and they
were basically giving away copies, so we weren’t
going to get any royalties. We owned that song,
so we took it off the album.
PCP: That’s really indicative of the joke
in the title of At Yankee Stadium. You guys knew
that you were big enough to play in that park,
but there just wouldn’t anybody in the stands.
I think that this is the album that showed all
three songwriters at full-power. For instance,
Joey with the Revolver-esque “I Love Her,
She Loves Me,” Terry’s stone-cold
power pop classic “I Want You Bad,”
and your rollicking “It Comes to Me Naturally”—it
just couldn’t get any better! “It
Comes to Me Naturally” swings so incredibly
hard that it’s disorienting. Nobody swings
like that anymore.
BA: That’s probably because the rhythm track
was laid first and we overdubbed the rest.
PCP: Did you guys really start experimenting with
overdubbing on Yankee Stadium?
BA: Oh no! We were doing it all along, from the
get-go.
PCP: Really, just with live bass and drums as
a foundation.
BA: Yes, just starting with live bass and drums.
PCP: It’s just that some of the songs on
Yankee Stadium, like “I Want You Bad”
for instance, just sound like they have tons of
guitar tracks, unlike a lot of the earlier stuff.
BA: That might be true.
PCP: That guitar solo on “I Want You Bad”
is one of my favorites of all time. I have no
idea what you are doing there.
BA: [laughs] I have no idea either.
PCP: To the best of your knowledge, what is NRBQ’s
impact on the younger generation?
BA: To be honest, I have no idea about that either.
PCP: I know that Elvis Costello is a big fan of
you and NRBQ. Are you a fan of E.C.?
BA: Absolutely. He’s so original. Now there’s
a guy who knows his music history. He changed
the sound. He changed the look. And he’s
still going.
PCP: One of my favorite records by him is Brutal
Youth, which isn’t that old. When he came
in to do the date on your last solo record, Pay
Before you Pump, Ron Sexsmith was there too. Do
you like Ron’s music?
BA: I’ve never heard it actually.
PCP: Oh, it’s good stuff.
BA: I wouldn’t doubt it if Elvis brought
him along. They were doing a double bill together
that night.
PCP: Ron’s music is kind of rootsy singer-songwriter
stuff. I think your music would go over well with
that audience.
BA: Well, I’m working on it.
PCP: Are you ever going to ever give us the Tapestry-style
album that we’ve been waiting for over these
years while you’ve been giving your tunes
to other people to record. After hearing you play
with just your acoustic on Bob Brainen’s
[WFMU, New York City] radio program, I think you
could really have some crossover appeal.
BA: I wanna make that album. Some acoustic stuff,
some jazz, but the labels want me to tour, and
I don’t think I wanna do that. I might do
an album with Stephen Bruton from Austin though.
PCP: That song “Show Me the Way to Keep
Moving into the Light,” that you played
so beautifully on the Brainen show—what’s
the deal with that song?
BA: That’s a little prayer for depression.
It was written for Patti Loveless, but she never
cut it.
PCP: What a shame about that. What a great song.
Along with Costello, Dave Edmunds was another
big figure in that English pub-rock scene of the
mid-70s. Edmunds and Nick Lowe actually had a
group together called Rockpile that did an EP
of Everly Brothers' material. That’s about
as much of a kindred spirit with NRBQ as you can
get! He’s covered your material on more
than one occasion.
BA: Sometimes when I hear Dave’s versions
of my stuff I seriously can’t tell if it’s
him or me. It’s that exact. Right down to
the sound of the air in the room. Like his version
of “Better Word for Love.”
PCP: Knowing that you guys had some key fans over
there, did NRBQ ever play England?
BA: We played there once. Another time we got
deported. We got all the way over there and it
turns out that the promoter screwed up the working
papers. They had us get right back on the plane.
PCP: God I can just see that, that must have sucked!
How about other places in Europe?
BA: Oh sure, Scandinavia, Germany—we were
big in Germany. Played the Jazz Fest there.
PCP: Before I go, I just want to tell you that
my dad wanted to say that he’d carry around
your guitar case if you’d let him.
BA: I’d let him do that. Tell him I said
thanks, I appreciate that.
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