Tex Pistol

Rip It Up, Issue 136, 1 November 1988, Page 18

Tex Pistol

THIS GUN'S FOR HIRE

By

Chris Bourke

“Imagine Bruce Springsteen ... driving across America in a Honda Civic.” It’s 10pm at Wellington’s Soundtrax Studios, where lan Morris AKA Tex Pistol, Callie Blood and Jim Hall are producing a single aimed at skin cancer. Jim Hall is explaining why the client’s idea — to use Springsteen’s ‘Cover Me’—was daft. “It just didn’t work. Cover me? Springsteen never gets out of his car!”

Hall's in the production seat for this job, while Morris engineers and operates the Fairlight. Blood, who v wrote the jingle, concentrates on the vocal which is being sung by Rikki Morris — of 'Nobody Else' fame —in , his first commercial appearance. The session's only been going an hour, but already Rikki's vocal track is almost complete; squeaky pop over a backing that recalls Georgie Fame's'Yeh Yeh.' The 30-second jingle extolling the virtues of UV cream quickly becomes embedded in the consciousness, as .. lan coaxes his brother through take ’ after take: "Hold that G... make that hot hotter... one more time for Ringo." What's really remarkable is the speed and competence of the work. Morris decides to double-track the vocal as an experiment. He slows down the tape, then Rikki adds : another vocal ata lower pitch. At normal speed the jingle sounds as poppy as a Madonna single. "What we really want," grins Hall,. "is someone blonde and unreasonably young — like Kylie 3 “ Minogue. 'I could be so sunburnt..." Main vocal complete, the musical magpies pick up guitars to work out some fills. Morris plays a line from Exile On Main Sts 'Hip Shake', while Hall tries out familiar licks from With The Beatles. Time for the backing vocals. In walk Annie Crummerand Barbara ■ Griffin, moonlighting from the Holidaymakers' album sessions taking place in Marmalade Studios next door. Hall plays the backing melodies on his guitar, and within half an hour Blood, Crummer and Griffin have oo'ed and ah'd three-part harmonies. Morris alters the parts of the final chord; the result echoes the famous dissonance that ends 'She Loves You.' Vocals down, it's still only 11 pm as the final touches are recorded. "There's some garbage in there, I think it's the hi-hats," says Hall. He wants some holes in the final mix, but proceeds to pack more into the s? jingle. "I think it needs some warm . Georgie left hand," he says, quickly working out a piano part and . recording it. "Maybe a sax fill." Hall

photo by Chris Mauger

works out a riff and records it. "Is that too much like the original?" he thinks aloud. Meanwhile Morris is tapping away at the Fairlight, fine-tuning tracks already recorded, changing instruments at the flick of a switch from Hammond organ to Yamaha piano to church organ. He decides the opening is a bit limp, so quickly finds a metallic drum sound, works it into a fanfare... and the result booms out like the start of Hawaii Five-O. "I think I know a way to get bagpipes in there," muses Hall, but three hours afterthey began, it's all been completed: 'Melanoma with Matt Bianco.' "I changed my name in search of fame to find the Midas touch," sang Mott the Hoople, perhaps the greatestinfluence on all those young Dudes. It's ironic that after a long and varied career in music, lan Morris should receive most recognition for a busman's holiday called Tex Pistol. Now 31, he's been an engineer (the classic Hello Sailor albums, plus lots worth forgetting), a producer [Cool Bananas, the Meemees album, and lots he wants to forget) and a band member (Th'Dudes, Pink Flamingos, DD Smash). This month his first solo album comes out, called Nobody Else, still using that cowboy moniker. "lan Morris just doesn't sound poppy enough," he explains. His first solo project, a single called 'Boot Up (Let X=Y)' was done in 1983 using his nickname Jag Moritz. It disappeared without a trace. Morris's next project was a cowboy epic, so a different name seemed appropriate. Tex Pistol. It had the same hokey flavour as the song, The Ballad Of Buckskin Bob'. When released on Pagan in 'B6, it also disappeared. But Tex Pistol won the Most Promising Male Vocalist award. Now happy to be stuck with Tex, The Game Of Love' followed, and the rest is history. It shot to No.l, reaching the top on the day when the shops ran out of stock. The follow-up, 'Nobody Else' also made No.l, once again only for a week: U2's 'Desire' was an unstoppable juggernaut. "Tex started off as a joke, a one-off

cowboy thing, and it's still very much an after-hours hobby," says Morris. The separate persona suits Morris, whose day-job now is producing music for advertising. "I like Tex in that it isn't me. I can hide behind it. We get clients coming it, people I've known for years, saying 'Who is Tex Pistol?'. They don't realise it's me, which is great."

Morris has a take it or leave it attitude to success. He experienced our version of pop stardom in Th' Dudes and DD Smash, and a lot of it wasn't much fun. "I've toured the country a million times. So I don't envy someone like Ardijah who've just put out a fantastic single—but

what next? It's a career move for

them, but it's not for me, which is the advantage I have." Nobody Else came about when Pagan's Trevor Reekie suggested

there was enough material for an album. "I thought, oh, that sounds like a bit of self-indulgent pleasure, I'll have a go," says Morris, "but in the end t I had to really force myself to go in to do it. Because working all day on a Farmers' jingle, then having to go back at night to record 140 acoustic guitar parts for the album wasn't a whole lot of fun. But I didn't want it to drag on foryears and years, I didn't want it to become an audio Stranded in Paradise— eternally updating and revising." The result is a diverse work that,

Morris thinks, conforms to the original meaning of album; a collection of songs. "Much as I love 'Bad

Medicine' by Bon Jovi, all their songs have the same drum sound, the same guitar sound, the same vocal echo, the same overall concept. This doesn't."

Nobody Else is certainly a diverse display of Morris's talents and tastes. He's fan of pure pop and productions expansive and sparse. The album's got a sense of history and humour, and reflects his love of country and classic New Zealand songs. It shows a perfectionist with a commercial ear revelling in the craft of making music. Morris's record collection is the

best guide to where Tex comes from. He's got boxes of singles, hundreds of them in shocking condition but alphabetical order; Abba's 'Momma Mia' right through t 0... yes! The Zombies' 'She's Not There' and Zagerand Evans"lnTheYear2s2s'._ But there are also Frank Ifield and Cliff Richard hits from his English childhood, and a New Zealand collection that goes from Ash Burton's Tea At Te Kuiti' through the La De Das, Fourmyula, and Space Waltz to Golden Harvest and the Features. In the albums, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones are worn out from teenage years playing them at 16 rpm to learn off the lead breaks the Georgie Fame, Gene Pitney. But the 70s are of equal importance: Mott

the Hoople, Alice Cooper, Lou Reed, Iggy Pop. More especially Elvis

Costello and Todd Rundgren. Plus, the country section: Bob Wills, Gram Parsons, stacks of George Jones. All make an impact on Nobody Else. Producers: Phil Spector, George Martin, Holland-Dozier-Holland, Mickie Most, J immy Miller, Tony

Visconti, Chinn-Chapman, Richard Perry, Dave Edmunds, Guy Stevens, Nick Lowe. "All great pop songs have a colourful image. You get a picture in your mind's eye. Think of some people, you get a very dark two-dimensional image of what they're doing—all very serious. Think of Sgt Pepper, it's a tapestry of sound. The songs were great, but it's the sound of them that has so much character. Sonic painting." Pure Pop for Now People. Abba: "Brilliant songs, great melodies. The lyrics—who cares? Just the sound: 'Ma Ma (chang chang) Waterloo!' Great sound." Tomorrow's Hits

Today. Currentfaves: "'Drop The Boy' by Bros and Bon Jovi's 'Bad < Medicine'."

What about cover versions, Yesterday's Hits Today? The year's worst: 'I Don't Want To Talk About It.' "She's done it exactly the same, only she can't sing." 'Drive My Car.' "It's always hard to do Beatles songs, to capture that feel. Think of the good ones: Elton John, Joe Cocker. Even Ray Charles couldn't do 'Yesterday.'

"In my first band, with Peter Urlich, we used to play Eastern Suburbs rugby clubs. Chillum. Peter thought of that. Jeans above the navel and curly hair. We used to play rugby dos, farmers' daughter's weddings. Stones songs. Chuck Berry, Creedence. Lots of rock 'n' roll, but no Beatles. It's like people doing Dave Dobbyn songs. Only Dave can dothem. "People frown on doing covers. I have endless discussions with Trevor. He loves originals. I'm chuffed 'Nobody Else' is an original too. But look at Ella Fitzgerald. In those days Cole Porter would write a song then everyone would have a bash at doing it. there are no definitive versions, maybe Frank Sinatra's version, but everyone had a bash." Ken Avery, who composed 'Tea At Te Kuiti' and many other novelty songs in the 50s, bemoaned the effect of the Beatles; suddenly you were dead as a songwriter unless you could perform as well. Although Morris co-wrote Th' Dudes songs and half of Nobody Else, he agrees. "The day the term singer-songwriter was termed was a < dark day for music. All of a sudden you had no credibility unless you were moaning about your own particular problems. People forgot that music is entertainment —above all else.

"I listen to Paul Kelly and think if d be great to write an album of

fantastically honest lan Morris songs. I could, but it would be a heap of old toss. I'm more into interpreting things." And the witty references to the • past,'Sweet Dreams' strings, 'Sympathy For The Devil' percussion, 'Respect' BVs, 'Here There And Everywhere' and 'Honky Tonk Woman' chord changes? "There's two things happening there. A couple of the songs are pastiche, in the truest sense of the word; sending it up and adoring it at the same time. That's'l Don't Know What Came Over Me', which is wearing a bit thin, but what the heck. Also, any musician is only the sum of his or her influences and their interpretation of them. That's why Rikki's song ('Nobody Else') is pretty Beatles-ish. And country music is mongrel music—there's no musical form that hasn't influenced country. It's part of the way music evolves, people say 'Ooh, that's great, let's do this with it.' The steals are obvious. Rappers are the biggest thieves, and so boring. They probably think country's boring." Working in the ad industry, is he tom by the way jingles exploit great music? "No, not at all. I always end up thinking about the geezer who wrote the song. I don't think I'd ever let 'My Old Friend' become a beerad. It's my choice. Maybe if I needed the money. But if Bobby Womack really wants $5 000 from Brut for 'lt's All

Over Now', it's up to him. Mick and Keith won't let any of their songs be used—they don't want $ 10,000 from New Zealand." It's when the remakes are badly done and the client tries to shove his chemical formula for soap powder into the lyrics that he takes offense. Production isa mis-used term, says Morris. "On my passport, it says 'audio producer' because it's such a broad term. I do engineering, write songs, produce, make audio." George Martin was the first producer to be an influence, Alan Parsons the first engineer. "When I started at Stebbings, 'Year Of The Cat'was the studio song. Walk into a new studio and you'd put on Al Stewart to check the monitors.

"But Parsons was more a good engineer than a producer. That's where people get confused, they mistake a sparkly bright sound as good production. Paul Streekstra [at Harlequin] used to get great sound, much better than me. But producers have to rehearse the band, chop songs around, throw things out, say to the bass player'You're useless—fuck off.' They've got to talk to the record company. There's a lot more to it than meets the eye. And a lot of psychology. Every performer has a quality curve, you've got be aware of when they're not getting any better." The next producer Morris followed was Guy Stevens, who did Mott the

Hoople and later the Clash's London ►

"His production was the antithesis of George Martin in that he got the band completely pissed and speeding out of their tits. If you put on London Calling the bass drum is a flabby, horrible sound, but it just ■ ■ jumps out at you. A fantastic alive sound that captures the band in all its dimensions. After I heard Guy Stevens I produced a record by the Furys, which I love. It's terrible, sounds

awful, but it's got a great band sound. Which harks back to guys like Sam Phillips. He just got people to turn on a really great performance." How did Morris become a producer? Leaving school, he'd answered an ad in the Herald: Engineer Wanted. He became the "bum boy" at Stebbings Studios, the Abbey Road of Herne Bay where 'She's A Mod' was recorded. "It was like growing up in the BBC, because they did everything perfectly. It was a great way to learn, because once you know the ground rules you can

break them." His awareness of pop production was sharpened during the late 70s when he engineered, with Rob Aickin producing, some classic moments in local rock: albums by Hello Sailor and Th'Dudes, 'I Need Your Love' by Golden Harvest. "I got a lot of my commercial ear from Rob. He wasn't really a musician, he just recognised a good blend of sound. A great snare drum, good sounding

vocal and a good hook was all he was after. But after I left Stebbings, he carried on and did a couple of things I thought were terrible. They had a great snare drum, good hook, good sounding vocal, but really crappy songs. You do need a good song." Special moments—Golden Harvest. "They were pure pop, the songs were written as three-minute singles. Verse chorus hook—your classic pop song." Hello Sailor. "We tried to mould the songs into singles: 'Gutter Black,'

'Blue Lady'. We double-tracked the guitars, the saxes, cut things out of the middle. But they weren'tthree minute singles. They're classic New Zealand songs, but not classic pop songs like Tiger Beat' by Mud, which is. 'Blue Lady' isn't." Still, people always ask about that 'Gutter Black' drum sound. "I'd just heard Lowby David Bowie, where the snare drum is put through a harmoniseron every track. We didn't have a harmoniser but we had a

mechanical flanger. So I put a mike down the end of this huge studio, played the snare through some big speakers at the other end, then put it through the flanger. It's just a big drum sound. It was an experimental time."

Especially for Th'Dudes, whose second album particularly shows an eclectic blend of influences. "It was great, being able to work with your own stuff like that, but it was very heirarchial: Dave and I at the top, then Peter, then the rhythm section, Bruce and Lez. But it was very much Dave and my ideas in the end. Our strengths? Probably what they are now— Dave writes some great lyrics and great songs and I put them together, sonically. On those days

we were throwing the extraneous in, we'd think, 'Oh, that's a great lick, well have to use that.' So it ended up being a real porridge. Farto many things going on. But there's some good stuff there." Post Dudes, Morris and Dobbyn ("Mordobb") honed their craft on 'Lipstick Power', Dobbyn's first solo single. "It's such a weird song. It's pure Dave. About four or five bits of songs pieced together. Like modular homes, you just join 'em together. For the B-side [the Isley Brothers' 'Behind the Painted Smile'] we were trying to capture the early Diana Ross sounds,

the claps like the Supremes, so we put on our metal tipped shoes, went into the studio, banged on some boards and went clap clap clap." In the early 80s, Morris became Auckland's producer-about -town, working with countless local bands: Naked Spots Dance, Tin Syndrome, Shadowfax, Gurlz. And the Meemees. "It was a very transitional album forthem. So their next single,

'Stars In My Eyes', which I didn't do, was their most critically acclaimed, because they'd done the album. It was funny because we'd gone into the studio to record a single, but they were just so bad I sent them home to rehearse fortwo weeks. But they had very simple songs, and it was a great exercise to take these very simple songs and throw these hooks into them. But then again that's a very porridgy album. "When I finished it I realised that not only had I putthe kitchen sink in there, I'd putthe blenderand the electric knife in as well. Then I started

listening to Frank Sinatra and Nelson Riddle, and it became apparent it was the arrangement that mattered. I think that culminated in 'The Game Of Love' because that was a very sparse arrangement, there's not one note that shouldn't be there. The

tendency when recording is to say, 'lt's still not right, what should I addio make it better?' Now I think, What should I get rid of?"'

Apart from the Furys, the project Morris has fondest memories of is recording the Taihape band Daggy . & the Dickheads. He often joined them on stage and covers two of '. their songs on Nobody Else. "We just hit it off. It was just the honesty, and it was an occasion where the spirit in the studio actually . came out on the vinyl. The Dickheads reminded me of those days of playing at the Eastern Suburbs Rugby Club, when we just got up and played Chuck Berry and had a real good. time... and they're huge characters." As well as its strong songs and Z performances, another thing Nobody Else inherits from country music is its air of mateship. The title track is written and sung by Morris's youngerbrotherßikki,an ex-Crocodile. There's a Steve Earle-ish cover of the Warratahs' 'Hands Of My Heart' on which vocalist Barry Saunders appears. 'Sitting In The Rain' was a hit for the Underdogs, the band of Auckland jingle writer Murray Grindlay. 'Buckskin Bob' (by fellow Dude Lez White) and 'Winter' were both in the Dickheads' repertoire. Morris's 'My Old Friend' features a duet with the Dickheads' Mark Kennedy, and his Wil toWhanarua Bay'is a - - rock'n'roll romp about a reunion. . The most satisfying thing about the . album? "Getting it finished. And I think Rikki is going to be huge. I think part of the problem with Rikki is that I was his brother. It's probably taken me a while to stand back from his . work and look at him objectively. I — always like his songs— years ago we were going to do something together, maybe one of his songs will be the next single. Who can say what Rikki would have done if he hadn't been my brother? He may never have recorded anything. So I guess - I've both helped and hindered him." What nextforTex? "Because it's not a career move, it's a hard one. Sometimes I think I might just drop Tex and concentrate on Rikki, because he's a songwriter, or rather more consistent and prolific than . me." . ’ After years of working in the • - backroom, or the backline of a band, Morris says the response to Tex is. heartening. "Oh yeah, it's a buzz. But the biggest buzz is that people on the street like it. You can get all the awards and all the good reviews in . the world, but it means shit if the . people on the street don't like it. That meant a lot to me with 'Game Of Love'and so much to Rikki —he played a lunchtime concert at a school in Otara and the kids just went wild! That's the great part of it. Getting a good review, sure it bolsters the ego, but in an unsatisfying egotistical way, where you think you're doing a Great Work, which is a load of crap. But when some kid down the road likes it, it's a real heartwarming boost. You don't think, wow, I'm great—you just wonder at it. /You live in such an isolated . community. That was always the problem when I was producing so many bands. I just couldn't make them see. I'd say, 'Let's leave that bit out of the song, it'll work better.' They'd say, no my girlfriend really likes that bit. And that's why they're making that record: fortheir girlfriend, or for themselves to have a piece of vinyl with their name on it. It's a complete waste of time. As - Willie Nelson says, You can't make a record if you ain't got nothin' to say.' "I obviously didn't make 'The Game Of Love' for myself. But don't ask me why I make records — I don't like to think about it—the answer's , probably fairly insecure." ’ "Rock'n'roll's a loser's game, it mesmerises and I can explain, The reasons for the sights and sounds, The grease paint still sticks to my face, So what the hell? I can't erase The rock'n'roll feeling from my mind." —Mott the Hoople, 'Ballad of

Abba: “Brilliant songs, great melodies! • . The lyrics— who cares?”

“People frown on doing covers, but look at Ella Fitzgerald. In those days Cole Porter would write a song then everyone would have a bash at doing it.” ; J

“Musical steals are obvious. Rappers are the biggest thieves and so boring. They probably think country’s boring.”

“I don’t envy someone like Ardiiah who’ve just put out a ■ : .- X xx: -x/jX; X XX. XX .X ' :X :X ': X ’: 1 fantastic single —but what next? It’s a career move for them, but not for me, which is the advantage I have.”

Mott'