To download Grand Mal's "I'm a Believer," click here!
Bill Whitten knows a thing or two about indie rock. Back in the heady post-Nevermind early '90s, when record labels were scooping up grunge bands by the hundreds, Whitten's group, St. Johnny, recorded two albums that occupied a stylistic niche somewhere between Dinosaur Jr and My Bloody Valentine. Weary of constant comparisons to Sonic Youth, Whitten attempted to make a classic-rock album with St. Johnny's third effort, a 1995 Geffen release titled Let It Come Down, but soon afterwards a craving for autonomy led him to jettison St. Johnny and strike out on his own.
Enter Grand Mal.
Formed the same year St. Johnny imploded, Grand Mal has, for 13 years, essentially been a solo vehicle whereby the New York City-based Whitten can exercise his love for writing great songs steeped in '70s rock traditions. The fact that he's made and released these albums largely on his own--or on tiny indie labels--testifies as much to the misguided machinations of a fashion-driven record industry as it does to Whitten's 
perseverance. Tops on his list of influences are the New York Dolls, Mott the Hoople, T. Rex, early Lou Reed, and the Ramones--all of whom lurk at the fringes of his distinctive songcraft. Think Marc Bolan's elegantly fuzzed-up riff rock, Reed's wry outlook (albeit in a sweeter and wittier form), and a DIY-pop aesthetic akin to vintage Todd Rundgren, and you get a good idea of Whitten's style.
His latest album, Congratulations, You've Re-Joined the Human Race, consists of seven songs released last year on an album titled Love Is the Best Con in Town, plus five newly written tracks. The album is available on the Swedish label Groover Records, but you can also find it here. A revolving cast of musician-friends helped bring the songs to life, but the vision is all Whitten's own.
How long have you been living in New York City?
I moved here in 1991, so it's been 16 years now. At the time I moved here, it had the highest crime rate it had had in a long time. It was just before Giuliani, when David Dinkins was mayor.
Did you have to summon up any courage to move there?
Not really. Before I moved here I lived in Hartford, Connecticut, which is actually more dangerous. I used to take the bus back to Hartford to see my girlfriend. While I was back there I once got chased down the street by three guys. Lots of the city is desolate and poor and grim. Moving to New York ... I don't know, I've always thought of New York City as like Disney World for grown-ups.
Things you've said in the past suggest you might have a love-hate relationship with New York.
Yeah. Manhattan has become gentrified to an extent that's pretty mind-boggling. There's a concentration of wealth, alongside extreme poverty. But that's the only aspect of the city I don't like.
To this day, among the city's indie bands, there seems to be a New York sound that can be traced back to the Velvet Underground. Your song "You Should Be So Lucky," for instance, brings to mind the Velvet's "Foggy Notion."
I totally agree. That's always been my favorite type of music. Johnny Thunders was always a big hero. I've always liked the New York Dolls. Lou Reed, the Velvets, the Ramones, Television, Richard Hell ….
Wasn't there a peripheral project you were involved in that Velvets drummer Moe Tucker produced?
That's right. I played on an album by Charles Douglas--he's a writer and also a musician--that Moe Tucker produced. We had supper together. That was about nine years ago. She's a sweet lady. She's one of the few legends I've met who wasn't a disappointment.
How was your previous band, St. Johnny, different from what you're doing in Grand Mal?
St. Johnny was more indie-rock influenced. We were influenced by Dinosaur Jr and Sonic Youth, like a lot of bands who were making music during that grunge upswell, around 1991. Nirvana wasn't really an influence, but the guitar-bands of the '80s and '90s, like Mudhoney and Dinosaur Jr, definitely were.
Were you happy playing that type of music, at that time?
Not for long. I've always been ambivalent about indie rock, even though it's what I do. To me it's always seemed like music for privileged white people--college rock. The last St. Johnny album had a strong Mott the Hoople, and a glam rock influence. We did two albums for Geffen, and one for Rough Trade. It was a great time to make music. It seemed like everyone had a record deal back then, or at least everyone in New York City. From 1991 to 1995 there was a grunge-rock bubble that wasn't much different from a stock market bubble.
When you formed Grand Mal in 1995, did you envision from the start that the music would be different from what you had done before?
Yes. I wanted it to be heavier, harder rock. We did a lot of touring in St. Johnny, and I always noticed that people responded best to the fast, hard rock songs. My dream was to have a band that was a cross between Spacemen 3 and Johnny Thunders' Heartbreakers.
Do you feel you nailed that?
No. [Laughs] I've never been very good at crafting a concept and then following through with it. I'm not that clever. I suppose I didn't spend enough time in my bedroom in front of the mirror, working on my hairstyle and a sound that would best go with that. It seems that's what people do, nowadays. There's the hirsute, hairy, hippie look. That seems kind of fun, but of course it's also really calculated.
Which do you enjoy more--writing songs, or making recordings?
I like it all--playing, writing, rehearsing. It's all fun. Writing is a way of communicating with yourself. That's especially true for me at this moment. I feel my career has entered a semi-public phase. I'm making music, but it's not necessarily being heard by a lot of people.
Times being what they are, though, there are lots of avenues to get music into the public domain.
Yes, and that's really good. There are a million ways to get music to people. That's awesome, although it does make things more banal.
Have you been able to make use of that yourself?
Well, I've been able to make use of technology. I recorded half the new album myself, at home, which a lot of people do now. It allows people to be more prolific. You can wake up, write a song, record it that day, and put it online that night. It probably makes music less sacred, nowadays, but it also removes all the filters built in by the recording industry. You're no longer beholden to passive-aggressive sound engineers who try to destroy your sound. It allows you to take those guys out of the equation.
Of course David Fridman, your long-time sound engineer, is an exception.
Yes, David is the most amazing producer there is. He has a complete disregard for other people's standards. He's unbelievably knowledgeable about recording, but still he takes a punk-rock approach to gear and sounds. He has more nerve that most engineers. He doesn't do things in a conventional way. Of course David was in Mercury Rev, which was a completely iconoclastic band when they started.
What instruments do you play?
I play rhythm guitar, an Epiphone Les Paul Junior. I used to play lead guitar, but the people who play on the album are far better than I am. And I play rudimentary piano--keyboards and organ. I'm not really a musician. I'm a songwriter.
What appeals to you about the Les Paul Junior?
First, aesthetically, I like the way it looks. But it also has a great sound. It's the sound of the New York Dolls--Johnny Thunders' guitar--that thick, dark sound. There's nothing like it. It sounds like what rock and roll is supposed to sound like.
Do you write songs on the Les Paul Junior?
Yes. It's an inspiring instrument in that sense as well.
Most of your favorite bands came to prominence in the '70s. Do you ever feel you were born in the wrong era?
I don't know. I probably wouldn't have fetish-ized the same music, had I been born earlier. If I had been a contemporary of the New York Dolls, I probably would have been obsessed with Freddie Cannon or Jerry Lee Lewis or the Ronettes. There's something cool, I think, about music that's lost forever--music that you can never get back, that has sort of a doomed glamour. Some of my favorite albums were made during periods in which the band was breaking up. It's not always their best work, but it captures them falling apart.
Can you give an example?
The Dolls' third album--the one they never completed. There's a live album that exists that has songs that never came out on it. There's something about the vibe of a band that's on its way out. It's like a window on time that's closing forever. Which is why bands should never re-form after they've broken up.
You've often talked about keeping the "roll" in rock and roll. What do you mean by that?
It has to do with those riffs you play with your pinky--those Chuck Berry riffs. I guess it's that boogie thing, like with Humble Pie. It's the difference between Green Day and the White Stripes. Green Day plays rock. The White Stripes play rock and roll.
What are your goals at the moment?
I'm working on another album, and I would like for good indie label to put it out. And I would like more people to hear this album than heard the last one. I would like to get back to the public phase of music-making, instead of the semi-public phase.
BILL WHITTEN'S FIVE FAVORITE ALBUMS
New York Dolls – New York Dolls (1973)
"My favorite all-time album. A band that took a bunch of obvious influences (Rolling Stones, Andy Warhol, Alice Cooper, Chocolate Watchband) and created something truly outrageous and original. And it sounded like a jet plane taking off. I wonder how a 19- year-old Johnny Thunders got the idea that he could get away with playing such a boiled down, minimalist/maximalist guitar style in the age of Page and Steve Howe etc. David Johansen’s timeless lyrics conveyed a young adult’s tender concern with depravity and other matters of the heart: “Could you make it with Frankenstein?” As a teenager I appreciated an album with songs that were simple enough to play along with."
Iggy and the Stooges – Raw Power (1973)
"I find it hard to believe that most people prefer the first two stooges albums to Raw Power. James Williamson’s guitar playing and riff-writing are unbeatable and have never been topped. The persona that Iggy presents to the world on Raw Power is far more complicated and menacing than his previous manifestation as the ultimate hippie-wild child. The murky mix radiates an atmosphere of doom and otherworldly debauchery. Songs like “Death Trip” and “Search and Destroy” were too much for the world circa 1973. The Stooges may have been the most frightening band of all-time. Scarier than Slayer."
The Beatles – The White Album (1968)
"Like Dylan on Highway 61, the Beatles devour the history of rock and roll and excrete it’s future--foretelling punk, post-punk, and indie rock."
David Bowie – The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972)
"Bowie delivers an entire way of life with this album. Great album cover, great songs, great concept. His fascist, androgyne persona achieves apotheosis. He would never recover."
Beach Boys – Carl and the Passions (1972)
"I like flawed albums made by bands in turmoil. There are songs with lyrics written by the manager, songs about the Maharishi, songs sung by the newest and least competent members. There are also two songs contributed by Dennis Wilson that are completely ill-suited for the album, but are unearthly and utterly unique."