Everclear

"I hate rock stars, people who act like rock stars."

The Rock Online Interview with ART ALEXAKIS OF EVERCLEAR March 9, 1999
-Lynne Margolis

Since the release of "Sparkle and Fade" in 1995, the trio known as Everclear has toured nearly nonstop, racking up miles and miles of road wear and building bigger and bigger audiences. 

But fans of Everclear’s live shows would be well advised to catch the guys now, because band leader Art Alexakis sees the end of the road coming soon.

"I don’t like it at all," Alexakis says of the touring life during a recent phone call from Portland, Maine. 

"That’s why I’m transitioning into other things. I’m just doing this a couple more years. One more Everclear record."

The revelation is startling, but singer/guitarist Alexakis says he’s simply sick of touring. And since he controls the band, drummer Greg Eklund and bassist Craig Montoya may not have much say-so in the decision.

"I love the shows. That hour and a half a night is great. But the stuff leading up to it, I’d rather be at home."

It’s hard to blame him for desiring the stable life that eluded him as a child. Alexakis, who thoroughly mined his troubled early years for song material, has amassed a catalog of hauntingly revealing tunes about such subjects as his former drug addiction, his brother’s death, and his own longing to be free of those and other ghosts. 

His ability to filter that pain and sorrow through his sieve of cynicism and purify it in song has turned Everclear into a beacon for disaffected youth, and a major element of modern rock radio.

"Heartspark Dollarsign," "Heroin Girl," "Santa Monica," "I Will Buy You A New Life," "Everything to Everyone," "Amphetamine," "Father of Mine," "So Much for the Afterglow," it’s an impressive list of hits from only two albums (the band’s first disc, "World of Noise," fell under most of the world’s radar). 

In the fall, Alexakis will give the world even more material - his first solo album, titled "Arthur," which he characterizes as "very pop."

Working so hard to achieve success as an artist, then publicly declaring a desire to move on to something else is just one of the seeming contradictions of Alexakis’ personality.

He doesn’t regard his life as a study in opposites, but for a guy who fronts a band that sticks its figurative middle finger in the face of authority and music-industry wisdom, his private life is uncontroversial and decidedly unlike what we’ve come to expect of our rock stars.

Alexakis is a married father who drives his daughter to school (during those rare moments when he’s not on the road) and who happily admits, "I like the middle class ethic. I’ve always aspired to be middle class."

Like his idol Bruce Springsteen, he wants to be a regular guy. 

In fact, Alexakis says, "I hate rock stars, people who act like rock stars."

His comment, delivered via telephone from Portland, Maine, is in reference to a certain brother-based Southern band, named after birds, that cancelled a recent Pittsburgh gig upon learning the venue was not up to its standards. 

Alexakis, who had just played the same space days before as part of the Sno-Core tour, said the room wasn’t the best, "but it was a great show, it was one of the best vibes. Everyone was singing the songs, even way in the back."

Just a half a year earlier, during a summer show with Fastball and Marcy Playground, Alexakis wasn’t feeling nearly as jovial. When fans threw objects at him, he threatened to leave the stage. Later, before singing "I Will By You A New Life," from "So Much for the Afterglow," he ranted about the rich people able to afford the city’s priciest real estate, visible on a hill just above the outdoor stage.

After admitting he’d never actually leave the stage ("I would never do that to my fans"), Alexakis insists, "I don’t have that much money. I have a middle-class living. And I earn every cent of it.

"I do have an attitude against people born into money who don’t appreciate it," he continues. "But that’s a bias. An unfair bias. You gotta remember, you cannot strip out the conditioning of almost 40 years."

Alexakis respects those who make their own way in life, as he has. When he made the deal with Capitol, the band’s label, he didn’t go for the company that waved the most money under his nose. He went with the one who agreed to let him do things his way.

"I met with about 15 people in two days," he recalls. "(I) said, `This is the money I want. These are the points I want to start out with. These are the bumps (sales-based profit percentage increases).’"

When he got around to saying, "I want total creative control. I want to produce my own albums," the labels suddenly weren’t so agreeable. But it was non-negotiable, as far as he was concerned. In the end, four labels were still interested. He went with Capitol because he liked its former leader, Gary Gersh, and A&R man Perry Watts-Russell.

That Alexakis, 36, even knew about the points, bumps and back ends of record deals in the early ‘90s is somewhat remarkable and speaks to the new breed of artist who’s as savvy about the business of rock ‘n’ roll as of its proverbial three chords and an attitude.

Alexakis schooled himself, mainly by reading and asking questions. He also had a small label of his own, Shindig, in the late ‘80s. "I love the industry. I love the business," he confesses. He doesn’t even mind paying nearly $500,000 in taxes last year.

"I have no problem with it. I just want it to be spent responsibly," he admits. Alexakis claims his view of government is "actually getting less conservative than I used to be."

Though he still makes conservative investments (IRA and Keough funds, mainly), Alexakis also calls himself "really a flaming liberal." He donates thousands to democratic causes and more than that to charities, and just got invited to be on the board of JAMPAC, the grass-roots ??? group started by former Nirvana bassist Crist Novoselic. 

And while he doesn’t mind spending money, he doesn’t like the idea of being prevented from earning it. When the issue of MP3, the technology that allows fans to download music directly from their computers, comes up, Alexakis says, "I have problems with it right now because there’s no responsibility to the artist. 

"I don’t have any problem with bootlegging live shows because, you know what? That’s for the super fan. But when you start taking songs that we’ve worked on and produced, that’s not right. "I’m not a communist," Alexakis adds. "I don’t believe that everything I do is in the public domain."

The subject clearly is an important one to him. "It’s like bootlegging shirts," he says. "That’s totally taking money out of my kid’s mouth."

He remembers vividly those early days on the road, when the only way the band made money was from selling merchandise. Laws are laws, says Alexakis, who’s spent time in jail for breaking a few himself. He’d like to see even more enforcement and prosecution of merchandise bootlegging laws in particular. 

That’s mainly because Alexakis knows what it’s like to struggle, and he doesn’t want to have to ever again. 

He says he doesn’t take his fans for granted, or the media, or anyone. But he also notes, "We don’t take shit from people, either.

"People think rock bands should take hits and not hit back. We hit back. I’ve never, ever taken crap from people."

Again he brings up the issue of fans throwing glass bottles or other objects onstage. 

"I've had teeth knocked out. I'm not gonna take that," Alexakis says. His tactic is to turn the audience against the offending concertgoer, encouraging them to "kick his ass."

Eventually, he’ll remove himself from situations with that potential. But even if he leaves the stage after another Everclear album, the band won’t be disappearing too rapidly.

"I got plans," Alexakis hints. "But my contract with Capitol is not gonna be up for a long time."

When dignitaries gather in New York Monday night, March 15th, for the latest round of Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductions, Art Alexakis will be there, tuxedo and all. And it won't be just to schmooze with the music biz honchos, either.

He's going to be inducting Del Shannon into the pantheon of rock 'n' roll heroes. The posthumous honor will recognize Shannon's contributions to early pop rock, exemplified by his biggest hit, "Runaway." 

Alexakis said the hall of fame officials figured he was articulate enough to handle the job; he didn't say whether Tom Petty, a likely choice because of his reference to the artist in the song "Runnin' Down A Dream," had been asked first. 

For Alexakis, the night will hold special magic because he may get to meet his own hero, Bruce Springsteen, another inductee. Even better would be the opportunity to stand on the same stage and play with the Boss.

Is there a chance it'll happen?

"Well, you know, I'm bringing a guitar," Alexakis said. 

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