Boston Globe Interview - August 22, 1997
The Boston Globe
You Can Never Get Too Much Sex
By Jim Sullivan

Sometimes, you get to witness the changing of the guard.

It was a year ago April and the English band Love & Rockets was attempting a comeback, having been away from the scene for half a decade. It was not to be.

Their show was turgid; their latest album, ''Sweet F.A.'', a dead weight. And what made L&R seem even more superfluous was the sprawling, splendiferous opening set by The Dandy Warhols, a young Portland, Oregon-based band. As they played, they nixed their planned set - a mix of pop and wild psychedelia - and pushed toward the latter, closing with a triumphant, cacophonous ''It's a Fast-Driving Rave-Up With the Dandy Warhols' Sixteen Minutes''.

Yes, it was a 16-minute song - it toyed with Andy Warhol's ''15 minutes of fame for everyone'' pronouncement - and there were more words in the title than in the song. Complex harmonics shimmered off simple guitar and synth chords. It was gorgeous.

''We were going for it that night,'' recalls Warhols' singer-guitarist-songwriter Courtney Taylor. ''The set list sat there and lasted about two songs.''

Taylor, on the phone from a recent tour stop, is not gloating. The satisfying Paradise gig was just one of a few turnaround gigs for The Dandy Warhols, who spent the early part of 1996 in a profound funk.

What had happened was their 1995 debut album, ''Dandy's Rule O.K.'', on Tim/Kerr Records had created a major underground buzz. The major labels cameknocking, and Capitol landed the group. But the Warhols' first attempt at album No. 2 was a disaster. Drummer Eric Hedford penned a brief bio, sent to the press, explaining how the Warhols had been excited by the deal, then subsequently ran up a big tab, got stymied by the recording process, had to scrap the work, ended up humbled, and then had to regroup to start again, playing in guitarist Peter Holmstrom's basement.

True story or tongue-in-cheek self-deprecation?

''Both,'' says Taylor. The first attempt, ''was just unfinished. We didn't have the stamina to stay in there, with the variety of chemical mood shifters, personality alterers, and mind expanders, to be able to maintain focus on the aesthetic sensibilities. It became too confusing, and then it became too depressing. Nietzsche said happiness is when you feel your control of yoursituation is waxing and depression is when you feel your control of the situation is waning. We said: `[Expletive] this.'''

The band, which includes keyboardist Zia McCabe, went out on tour with Love & Rockets, and, says Taylor, stunk up the clubs for two weeks. ''We were confused, but then we pulled it out and we were ripping. After the tour, we took a month off. I spent that month in Los Angeles, and had a little affair, and hung with friends, had my own room, and felt this freedom. There was a good creative vibe to write.''

The Dandy Warhols went back in the studio and put together ''... The Dandy Warhols Come Down,'' a brilliant disc that merges their experimental nature and their keen pop sensibility. The latter is what you may be hearing on the radio now, as the catchy, arch ''Not If You Were the Last Junkie on Earth'' is a modern rock hit. It starts with its refrain: ''I never thought you'd be ajunkie 'cause heroin is so passe.'' Heroin chic is trashed. The video features dancing syringes, OD victims on stretchers, and tombstones.

Taylor is upfront about admitting a fondness for some drugs, but says ''being a junkie is a little embarrassing. When people from stupid frat-boy bands start OD-ing on heroin, it's just not cool anymore. And that's great. People should not be addicted to anything except sex. You can't like sex too much.''

''Junkie ... '' is a cool song, but Taylor says by making it the first single, it may give newcomers the ''misconception that we're a silly, snotty pop band. We're most comfortable when the tempo is about two-thirds as fast, the chord changes are not as fast, the melodies are longer and more dense, and the pedals are whacked out.''

Taylor is a fan of early Pink Floyd, the Syd Barrett era when whimsical, albeit demented, pop and careening psychedelia were tossed in a blender. ''I like songs like `Good Morning' and `Green'," says Taylor of two mind-benders on ''Come Down''.

''It's something you need - they were written because I needed them and [a listener can say] `I'm emotionally as [messed] up as this Courtney.' It's really all about validation; it makes me believe there's a universal experience.''

The Dandy Warhols most recently have been opening for Radiohead and Teenage Fanclub in the US - not bad gigs. In fact, they couldn't be much better.

What about that band name? Silly or genius? ''It hit me with one stroke,'' says Taylor. ''Couldn't believe it. I laid there, very excited about what I'd done.''