Cake
DEVIL'S FOOD FOR THOUGHT
Cake's Many-Layered Frontman John McCrea Hits a New Comfort Zone
Some people go strictly by the book when they decide to put together a rock band -- an accusation that could be leveled at Sacramento oddballs Cake, providing you acknowledge they were using a guide printed in a language from another planet. Combining Herb Alpert-styled brass, post-indie discordance, and a heaping helping of frontman John McCrea's alternately sarcastic and self-pitying musings, the band racked up some of the late '90s' least likely radio hits, like the Beck-ish, rap-inflected "The Distance" [from Fashion Nugget]. Shifting lineups and label moves -- as well as McCrea's well-documented disdain for touring -- might have knocked the steam out of a lesser band, but Cake's postmillennial bow, Comfort Eagle, shows them to be a bit older and a bit wiser, but no closer to the middle of the road. Okay, there are no goofy covers this time around, like their snarling take on Gloria Gaynor's disco hit "I Will Survive" -- a conscious choice -- and fewer leaps into the abyss of weirdness for its own sake. Nevertheless, you're not likely to get the same combination of smirks and heartstring tugs anywhere else. Barnes & Noble's David Sprague sat down to pick through John McCrea's brain for that secret formula.
Barnes & Noble.com: Seeing as you're on a new label, getting a fresh start, did you approach this record any differently than the ones you've done in the past?
John McCrea: This album is sort of a beginning, since in the past, the creative impetus came from one or two people. We demanded more time for the process of making this record, and for the first time, we had the opportunity to get everyone involved. It's like taking a table that stood fairly well on two legs and adding two or three more.
B&N.com: You've never felt the need to add the extra support of a producer, though.
JM: We were never aware of a producer whose skills would work with our vision -- one that would be willing and able to make a record as stinky sounding as we would want. It's not so much that we want our records to sound bad. It's not that at all. But there's this coating that modern producers tend to want to put on everything, and we don't want that.
B&N.com: Do you ever feel record label pressure to, for lack of a better word, "conventionalize"?
JM: I think musicians and other artists have always had a love-hate relationship with their patrons. They want or need the support to achieve their goals but don't want to be told how to do that. Likewise, I think patrons have a mixture of respect and disdain for artists. There's not a lot of understanding between the two.
B&N.com: Cake's songs are often described as "ironic." Do you think that's a fair way of looking at the lyrics?
JM: Well, I think irony is a necessary evil in times like these. It's a coping mechanism for people who don't feel adequately represented either in culture or in politics. It's something of a chance for weak people to feel like they're strong, and yes, I have indulged in it. I'm neither proud nor ashamed of that. I guess I do it because I don't have the energy to think about overthrowing the government.
B&N.com: On Comfort Eagle, you do a lot of songs about songs -- or at least songs about singers. What's with all the self-referential stuff?
JM: It is kind of strange, isn't it? Writing is a reflective process, and I think that writing about music allows me to have a clearer understanding of where I am in the scheme of things. In writing these songs, I see that maybe things aren't all that different for a symphonic composer and a Nashville hack.
B&N.com: And where does Rick James ("Meanwhile, Rick James...") fit in on that spectrum?
JM: Well, that song is not really about the Rick James, it's just about some guy named Rick James. I wrote the song before any of the stuff in his private life -- which I don't think should matter anyway when looking at his music -- was made public. Anyone who wants to can check the Library of Congress and see that the song was copyrighted before that stuff. The name was all about phonetics taking over. Sometimes you can't argue with phonetics.
B&N.com: Do you think that fits into the classic songwriting tradition?
JM: To some degree, I guess. It's a weird balance between sense and nonsense. See, I appreciate the classic writers, Cole Porter, Harold Arlen, Hank Williams, but I'm too self-indulgent to write songs that are a pure service to people.
B&N.com: Cake has cut short a couple of tours in recent years. Is going out on the road again something you're looking at with trepidation?
JM: If anyone thinks it's easy to do, let them leave their homes and families and everything else they know for two years and then come back to discuss it with me. [Touring] is incredibly unrewarding. For a while, it's great to go out and play in front of people who clearly want to hear you. But then you realize it's the exact same thing night after night, and you feel less like an "artist" and more like one of those performing bears at Chuck E Cheese.
July 24, 2001
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