By Jef With One F
By Rocks Off
By Chris Lane
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
By Angelica Leicht
By Corey Deiterman
What's more, Arthur is not just a high-tech one-man band -- he has always been something like a one-man record company. Not only does he make most of the music and write all of the lyrics, but he also comes up with the packaging and artwork, since he's also a painter. Joseph Arthur albums are Joseph Arthur albums in every mode of perception.
And then there's the wide gulf between his critical and commercial acclaim. Though he was discovered by Peter Gabriel and released three albums on that megastar's Real World label to the highest critical hosannas, mainstream success has eluded him.
Not that he doesn't have his fans. First, there are those swooning critics: In 1997, a scribe at Alternative Press was moved enough by Arthur's full-length debut, Big City Secrets, to call him "one of the last true artists left in the world." In 2000, Arthur's sophomore album, Come to Where I'm From, was deemed the year's best CD by Entertainment Weekly. Two years ago, there came Redemption's Son, which London's Sunday Times intoned was "a classic" and caused even more hyperventilation at EW. New album Our Shadows Will Remain was one of last year's 25 top-rated albums at metacritic.com, a site that takes multiple reviews and grades albums on their average score.
And hell -- I'll chime in with some plaudits of my own. It's a great, smart pop-rock album, and if "Even Tho" isn't the greatest conjuring of the Fine Young Cannibals out there, then I've yet to hear it. "Echo Park" is both eerie and pretty at the same time, and elsewhere he conjures artists as diverse as Varnaline's Anders Parker and Edwyn Collins. As with his earlier records, his music has a strongly nocturnal feel; it's always capable of turning even the brightest noon into the darkest midnight.
But nobody loves Joseph Arthur the way Joseph Arthur loves himself. You might think that's a bad thing -- and rampant narcissism can be terrible. Look at Don Henley, for example, or Mariah Carey. But in this case I don't really think it is.
I had a talk with Arthur while he cruised through the streets of Portland in search of lunch a couple of weeks ago, and self-regard played no small part in our conversation, a partial transcript of which we'll get into in a little while.
But first, the basics. We opened our talk with some standard how's-the-tour-going banter, and I asked him about some of the things I've read about these shows. Will he be painting on stage here, as he has been doing in the Northwest? "We'll see," he said. And then we moved on to his place of abode -- he recently moved from New York to New Orleans, where, he said, "there's a strong energy that found its way into the music, my way." Most of this energy he absorbed from jukeboxes late at night in Big Easy bars like the Abbey, the recently closed-down Matador and Checkpoint Charlie's. "When you're making a record, you listen to music in a different way," he said. "I think it was healthy to listen to it like that. You go into bars with good jukeboxes and listen to songs loud and you hear what works."
The talk turned to food when he spotted a tempting restaurant in Portland called Garbanzo's Falafel Bar. He told the tour manager to stop. "Looks good to me," he said. "I'm into falafel." I asked if he's a vegetarian. "Pretty much," he said. "I'll eat fish. When I was in England I was in the countryside a lot working at Real World. I used to see a lot of cows, and now I can't imagine going up to one of them with a machete and hacking 'em down. But I don't think I would have much of a problem pulling a fish out of a stream and watching it flap to death. You know, that's how I kinda monitor it. Of course I wear leather boots, so I guess I'm kind of a hypocrite."
And then came The Review, and now we'll just have to go to the tape.
Houston Press: I read a review that predicted that you will have a big hit on your next album.
Joseph Arthur: Oh, really? Who said that?
HP: Oh, where was it? I'll look it up. It was a very bizarre review.
JA: That's kind of a bizarre thing to say -- that I'll have a hit on the album after this one.
HP: Yeah, there's weirder stuff than that in this review too -- this woman, I think it's a woman anyway, the person's name is Nick but they refer to a one-e fiancé, said they wouldn't listen to you because they thought you looked too much like Vincent Gallo.