Wolfmother - London, UK - Summer 2006
By: Lauren Gallagher
Timid Wolfmother are not. They strut onstage as if to answer once and for all the question 'how much noise can three guys make?' Fans salivate in anticipation and the mother of wolf respond as if to say 'THIS much' via the bluesy, stomping opener 'Dimension'. Watching frontman Andrew Stockdale swagger atop his endless twiggy legs in a blazing white coat with tails, it's hard to believe that just one day prior his fingers were not terrorising a guitar, but spread over a serviette, as he methodically soaked up excess grease on his hotel pizza.
'I look at this as like, unhealthy, but this would be like an average meal in an L.A. studio, three times a day,' laughs Stockdale one afternoon in the lobby of his West London hotel.
The image of drummer Myles Heskett sipping tomato soup and Stockdale complaining of unhealthy catered food seems a contradiction to the rock and roll image Wolfmother evokes. Given the sheer potency of their sound, one would assume they'd be fuelled by gasoline, or at the very least, pure Jack Daniels, pumped straight in to the veins. But no, Stockdale tries to avoid dairy and processed meat these days, and has previously stated he is currently on a no drugs no drinking policy. One must stay healthy on tour.
And touring they are. Heavily. Currently on the European festival circuit, they then head back home to Australia, and after selling a whopping 37,000 albums in the first week of their album's release in America, they'll return to the land of the stars and stripes before headlining UK MTV's 'Spankin New Music' tour this November. Phew.
The popular mantra of 'what happens on tour stays on tour' serves most bands well, but Stockdale's creative idea to swim to the backstage area at a festival in Norway got him into a bit of trouble, and is too fun a tale to ignore.
'The backstage area was actually on the beach,' he starts, his long fingers extending outwards, like a rock-star preacher giving a blessing. 'I walked out to the headland and swam out to this island. Then I thought I'd swim into the backstage area,' he recalls. 'As I swam forward, more and more security guards kinda gathered around the area, this dude saying 'Who is dis crazy man who thinks he can come to our festival," Stockdale mimics in a rigid, faux Norwegian accent. His head full of trademark corkscrew curls quivers with a life of its own during the tale. 'The water got shallow so I was walking at one point, the dudes from Tool were sticking their heads out, and I just stood there in the water and said 'F*** you! F***in' pr*ks!'' imitating his gesture of the incident in question-where he brandished not one, but two fingers towards the growing crowd.
'They all came, and I climbed up the ladder, they all had the walkie-talkies, and they all surrounded me, and I was like 'Come on you muthaf***ers I'll f***in kill you' and then one dude was like 'Das is Wolfmotha,' and um yeah, and then they left!' he smirks.
Stockdale's eyes are wily as he tells the story, and it seems if anyone could win a staring contest with a cat, it'd be him, with his unrelenting, somewhat blank gaze.
Wolfmother rehearsed and recorded their self-titled debut success in various studios in Los Angeles, one of them, Cherokee, has previously housed masterminds such as Pink Floyd. Watching Stockdale polish off his pizza in a lovingly worn 'Dark Side Of The Moon' t-shirt, what appears to be a Native American vest, and tight jeans hugging his lanky legs, one gets the feeling this was not an unwelcome circumstance. So what about the vast expanse that is Los Angeles County did the band find so inspiring?
'Laurel Canyon,' Stockdale responds, without hesitation. This comes as no surprise given that Laurel Canyon was a great counter-culture mecca in the 60's and 70's. 'Some people think that there's some evil vortex around Laurel Canyon, I reckon it's that dark spirits inhabit that place. I think it's a beautiful place, but people are just scared of music, and art,' Stockdale muses. 'Because they probably think that like, the holiest place in L.A. is like, the triangle between Starbucks, Gloria Jean's [yuppie coffee chain], and Baja Fresh [Mexican food for white people] on Hollywood Boulevard,' he denotes dryly. 'That's the holy grail of L.A. That's the pilgrimage.' As a native Californian, I can unfortunately second that he is correct in his observation of the glorification of suburbanite L.A.
Recording away from home proved a benefit for the band, 'No distractions,' drummer Myles Hackett says. 'We were away from the comforts of home; we just got to work really.'
'We had to,' Stockdale shrugs.
'Yeah, working with a big producer, in these very expensive studios, we just had to get the job done as best we could,' Haskett remarks. 'At the same time we learned so much, working with these guys. We saw how a big L.A. rock album was made, as opposed to our little DIY situation back home,' he chuckles. 'We started seeing how things were layered, and the meticulous detail they would go to, to get the right sound.'
That sound, which commonly receives comparisons to Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath, is selling incredibly well across the globe. Has the dance/rock movement of Franz, The Killers, Bloc Party, etc. given way to a renaissance of rawk and a new wave of hard, classic rock bands? 'I don't think that's our intention, I don't think we're really that fussed if it happens or not,' says Haskett.
Their heroes who do make it into the conversation might surprise you. Muddy Waters is cited as a strong blues influence, not too surprisingly as blues colors much of Stockdale's charged guitar. Tim Buckley and the film 'Anchorman' both seem almost sacred inspirations for Stockdale. After bouncing film quotes back and forth its clear Will Farrell's hit flick has a holy prominence on the tour bus, not only for its humor but culturally commentary. The lead singer/guitarist finds the character of the female co-anchor a truthful representation of the power-crazed frenzy of the 70's.
'It's pretty accurate, of what happened just before the 80's. People got high; punch-drunk off self-help, powerful language, egocentric, cocaine, hedonism...everyone was just so overwhelmed with self-confidence and power, and ambition."
Is Stockdale full of the same self-confidence, power, and ambition?
He pauses. 'Yes,' with a decisive nod of the head, then he breaks into a laugh before continuing on a generalization of attitudes over the last 30 years.
'Now, I think it's like, in the 90's it was the hangover, the existential crisis, recession, 'what have we done?' and now it's just like-irony. 'I don't really like these clothes I just wore it 'cos I thought it was funny.' Know what I mean? It's like not assigning yourself to anything for fear of not being cool.' Non-committal = cool. With such an astute and seemingly accurate observation of today's hipster population, Stockdale proves a sharp observer of his day.
The anomaly of an artist that was Tim Buckley, the folky who dabbled in jazz and psychedelia, gave birth to one of Wolfmother's epic tunes.
'He wrote the 'Carnival Song', that's where I got the idea for 'White Unicorn'.' says Stockdale, dreamily bewildered by the Buckley's bizarre legacy. 'You listen to Tim Buckley songs and it's like, all these tales of traveling musicians, empty hotel rooms, hobos, carnivals, eagles, and women, valleys and mountains, heroin, and you know, sex' he emphasizes. He continues: '...Love, death, you know, just listen to one Tim Buckley CD and it's all in there. The problem is, he's talented, he's really clever, a good singer, good guitarist, good lyrics, but the songs just aren't very good. The songs aren't very coherent and don't make sense, so that's probably why he was never really successful in the mainstream. But that dude did all that since he was 21, he must have been having sex since he was, eleven.'
Tim Buckley might not have broken the mainstream before his untimely overdose, but in their relatively brief career thus far Wolfmother can't complain about lack of popularity.
The Astoria is not only bursting at the seams but sweating buckets.
Their passionate performance incites the crowd to scream and mosh, especially to the raw, punk rattle of 'Apple Tree'. The enthusiasm for the antipodean trio has grown exponentially in the UK since their London Cargo show last March, and the band are far from disappointing to their fans. 'White Unicorn' is like a pacifying drug, with its chime of echoing riffs, heads then bang respectfully in time to the song's mighty throb. Haskett pounds away behind white-rimmed shades, while Stockdale's orgasmic blues solo to 'Love Train' sends everyone reeling in ecstasy. Chris Ross juggles bass and keyboard, often literally rocking the latter to play the keys at an angle. Girls scream 'I'm gonna have yo' babies' and the wave of willing crowd surfers seems unending. When they break into 'Woman', everything explodes, as if the literal rebirth of classic rock is happening at that very moment, via that very song.
Wolfmother may or may not incite a string of copycat bands trying to capitalize on their mad success. But just as the band doesn't seem that bothered if it does or doesn't happen, neither are we; because if it did, we probably wouldn't listen to them. We've got Wolfmother.
Artists in this article: Wolfmother