13 QUESTION METHOD: SMOKEY HORMEL
Smokey Hormel has established himself in the music industry as one of the most diverse and in-demand guitarists available today. With a list of credits that includes the likes of Beck, Tom Waits, Johnny Cash, Mick Jagger, and Beth Orton, it is clear that Smokey is capable of adapting to any musical situation, but on the side, his passion is brazillian music, a genre that he has been exploring with great passion with musical collaborator Miho Hatori, and their collaborations have resulted in a haunting and lovely collection of 60's era Brazillian music, including a hit song for the soundtrack of 2002 Independent film Y Tu Mama Tambien, entitled "Ocean In Your Eyes."

1. Which was the first record you bought with your own money?
Steven Stills—his first solo album. It is a killer. He has Hendrix and Clapton both sitting in. It rocks. These songs were great for an 11-year-old guitar player to play along with. It was bluesy and very eclectic, with songs like “Do For The Others,” “Black Queen,” “Think I'll Go Back Home.” The hit single, “Love the One You’re With,” was always my least favorite song on the record.

2. Which was the last record you bought with your own money?
I bought two on the same day. Sly and the Family Stone box set, and the Carter family with Chet Atkins.

The Sly box is so damn good. It's totally worth the $50. It's got a lot of extra tracks, and it's great to have all that stuff in one complete box. That drummer changed my life. And Sly's brother—he is such a hip guitar player. When I was a kid, I had an uncle who was into Sly. He had five kids of his own, and we would all dance our asses off to Stand! That album is embedded in my bones.

It's great to hear young Chet Atkins burning behind the Carter sisters and also singing and flirting with June. If you're a Chet fan, this is a must.

3. What was the first solo you learned from a record — and can you still play it?
My parents took me to see Sergio Mendes and Brazil ’66 play with Jose Feliciano at the Greek Theater in L.A. I can't remember who was headlining, but I loved both sets and after that I learned the solo from “Light My Fire” off the Feliciano record. I think I was around nine years old. My parents used to make me play it for their friends. I would put my mom’s shades on and act like I was blind. I know—that wasn’t very PC. I am too self-conscious and my fingers are too big to play it now. It wouldn’t have the same intensity.

4. Which recording of your own (or as a sideman) are you most proud of, and why?
That is a really hard question. I am proud of all of them. I have to commit to every song I play. Each song brings a unique opportunity for some musical discovery and growth. And I have been blessed to play on so many good songs with great songwriters and recording artists.

I think my biggest hit is Johnny Cash's version of “Hurt.” I worked closely with Mike Cambell, Benmont Tench, and Rick Rubin to craft a minimal track that would support Mr. Cash's voice but still leave him exposed and vulnerable. It is one of those songs that transformed before our ears when his voice touched those words. And it still gives me goosebumps when I hear it today.

5. What's the difference between playing live and playing in a studio?
It really depends on the artist and the nature of the music. In general, when I play on stage, I am more aware of my energy and focus.
I studied dance and acting in my twenties, and a big thing I learned is that once you walk out there and the audience sees you, you are performing—whether it’s tuning up and checking your pedals or standing still, waiting for the count-off. To be on a stage in front of an audience is a privilege. I wish more musicians had awareness about their stage presence and what it means to be a performer. I try to use my energy on stage to engage the audience in what I am doing. That’s a big part of the job. If you have fun, they’ll have fun. But you really have to focus your energy live.

I remember in ‘96 with Beck—on the Odelay tour—we would play festivals with all these bands that I call “shoe-gazers”. They acted like they didn’t want to be there at all. Their stage presence was nonexistent. They were too self-involved to give anything back to the audience. I think that’s why we went over so big. We wore suits. We had some choreography. And we projected all the way out to the back row. One of the acts that we ended up opening for, that also did this, was the Prodigy. They had so much fun. It didn't matter that all the music was coming from a DJ. They performed their asses off. And they really inspired us.

In the studio, I am still performing, but it tends to be a different focus—the microphone, the singer, making sure I am not overplaying yet giving them enough support. It can sometimes be so hard to play off the sound coming through the headphones. I hate headphones. That’s a big difference right there. Often, especially with Beck, the headphone mix was impossible to negotiate. And if the artist is really feeling it, you can’t stop the take just to get your headphone mix together, because that might take the engineer 20 minutes to figure out, and by then the vibe is ruined. That was pretty much the scenario on every Beck record I’ve done. I usually end up with one ear off and really struggling to hear myself. It’s ridiculous when you consider how much money they were spending on those records.

And, while I am on this topic, I hate overdubbing in front of a computer screen. I try to avoid that at all costs.

6. What's the difference between a good gig and a bad gig?
A good gig is when you play your ass off together as a band, everybody gets soaked with sweat, and the audience won't let you leave the stage.

A bad gig is when the band isn't listening to each other, the audience isn't buying it, and the promoter cheats you at the end of the night.

7. What's the difference between a good guitar and a bad guitar?
About $3,000.

8. You play electric and acoustic. Do you approach the two differently?
Nothing sounds better than a happy guitar. But some of them aren’t happy unless you abuse them. Sometimes, I might ask the guitar what it wants to play. And then I try to rise to the challenge. Often I fail. Therein lies the discovery. A good guitar will teach you something you did not know before. And failure can be the first step toward discovery.

9. Do you sound more like yourself on acoustic or electric?
It depends on which one of me you mean—the acoustic Smokey or the electric Smokey.

10. Do you sound like yourself on other people's guitars?
I'm sure I do. I don't think of my sound being identified with a certain type of instrument. If anything, the one recognizable thing about me is that I've got good time and I try to keep it simple. I usually play a bit out of tune and I often paint myself into a corner when I am soloing—but I am working on it.

11. Which living artist (music, or other arts) would you like to collaborate with?
Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Jimmy Wyble, Moses Pendleton, Pina Baush.

12. What dead artist (music, or other arts) would you like to have collaborated with?
I mostly wish I could have done more work with some of the dead artists that I did have an opportunity to work with—Johnny Cash, Joe Strummer, Lester Butler, Jimmy Rodgers and Luther Tucker.

But there are so many I would have liked to have worked with—Fats Waller, Bob Wills, Howlin’ Wolf, Buster Keaton, Martha Graham.

13. What's your latest project about?
I did some touring over seas this summer with Forro In The Dark. Forro is a style of cowboy dance music from the north of Brazil. It’s a lot like Cajun and Norteno music. The couples dance together, kind of like a two step. It’s very exciting music. I play bass lines on a Hofner baritone guitar. We made a beautiful record last year which featured David Byrne, Miho Hatori and Bebel Gilberto. We also recorded a song with Steve Earle for his new record...”Washington Square Serenade.”

I’ve also had some interesting film score gigs lately. On Michel Gondry’s “Be Kind Rewind” I got to play some funky 70s copshow style jams. I even busted out the old Boomerang wah-wah pedal (the kind that was used on Shaft). And in Todd Haynes’ Dylan Movie “I’m Not There”, I had the challenge of playing the (MIke Bloomfield) guitar solos from his live at Newport concert (ie...Maggie's Farm). I wasn’t supposed to copy them note for note, but just to give an impression of them.

I am now working with Neil Diamond and Rick Rubin on a follow up to his 12 Songs record. It’s a dream gig. Neil is the most appreciative artist and getting to watch him work is great. He is such a committed songwriter. He never stops searching for ways to make the songs better.

Meanwhile, back home in New York, I have a five-piece Western Swing band, Smokey's Round Up. We play regularly out in Red Hook, Brooklyn, at Sonny’s Tavern. I wear the boots and the big hat. We play a lot of old songs from the ’20s, ’30s and ’40s. I was inspired by the Milton Brown box set that came out a couple of years ago. That was an incredible period in American music. He died in the mid 30s, but you can still feel the impact of his legacy today. If you listen to Bob Dunn’s steel guitar on those records, it is so melodic and soulful. They really swung hard, and without a drummer too.

I am also inspired by Fats Waller’s infectious sense of humor. And what Lester Young did with Basie. And what Jimmy Wyble did with Bob Wills.

I am not a jazz musician. I don’t have the chops. But this music has elements of jazz, blues, boogie-woogie, hillbilly, Cajun and polka. It’s really fun to play. I have a great band and we can go into a lot of interesting territory. And I feel OK as a middle aged white man singing these songs. I can’t take myself too seriously as long as I’m wearing the cowboy outfit. I mean, come on, cowboys didn’t have guitars. The whole thing is a big Hollywood fantasy. If a cowboy had to carry anything on his horse it would have been his Winchester, not a Gibson arch-top.

The other important thing about this music is that it came out of the great depression. It was made for working class people who just wanted to get drunk and dance and forget their troubles. It’s not at all about being self-conscious and narcissistic. The only rule is to have fun and swing. And I really feel that this is what is missing in popular music these days.

I am actually very troubled by how much our society has lost respect for live music, and the performing arts in general. To me, playing live is the most important thing a musician can do. That’s why I am so saddened by all the club closings in New York City this year. It’s getting harder for bands to play live and make any money at all. We need to find a way to turn this trend around. That’s why we need to get rid of these stupid Cabaret laws. The fact that some places don’t let you dance, if they serve alcohol with a band on stage, is ridiculous. Live music, drinking and dancing—they go hand in hand. This is a very important cultural ritual that is getting lost. Young people don’t even know how to dance as couples anymore. That’s how you learn how to lead and follow, to work together in a very tangible physical way. When you go to dance clubs now, people are all in their own worlds. And the music isn’t sexy—it’s fascistic. But the corporate powers in control would prefer us all to sit at home and vegetate in front of our TVs. They don’t want people to dance or interact with each other and learn to move together so they can forget their differences. Now, the music business is all about making us isolated from each other and to have us being ignorant consumers. I feel that going out to see bands play live in a club is again becoming a subversive and radical activity, because the power of live music is real. Anything can happen and will. To me that's much more exciting than watching someone lip-synching to backing tracks on a jumbotron screen while everyone around me is holding up their cell phones.

Web site: http://www.smokeyhormel.com/