John Cale: Cale and Eno Horror Story…

By Max Bell

(Originally Published: 02/08/1975, NME)

We're sitting in John Cale's local, deep in the heart of Shepherds Bush. It's a huge place that vaunts the quality of its food and drink with mock olde-worlde aplomb, although what's off show appears to be the usual pub fayre of bedraggled rolls and scotch eggs.

Cale is perched on the edge of his chair beneath a sign that reads "Purveyors of fine wines and spirits to the gentry." He's full of nervous energy, tearing a cheese and tomato sandwich to pieces while intermittently making holes in his pint.

When you first see Cale he strikes you as being a very black & white person, dark eyes staring, above incredibly hollow cheek bones set off by an aquiline, Celtic nose.

He's just returned from L.A., where he recorded the back-ups for the next album.

Before departing for the States he'd completed a backing track for his version of "God Only Knows," a tribute to the Beach Boys' unpredictable mentor which features choristers from the St. Paul's Choir school.

"It was great," Cale enthuses. "They walked to the studio in pairs and then all went to the bathroom right away. When they'd finished the first thing they asked was, 'How much do we get paid'?"

He has yet to add strings to that particular track, but tomorrow he returns to the studios for some concentrated work. "This one will be a lot harder, I'll play electric viola again. I'm using Chris Spedding, Pat Donaldson, and Eno of course. We might do a joint thing together actually."

As usual Cale is involved in sundry projects, some of which overlap. "For this album I'll be doing a short story, like 'The Gift', but more sophisticated. There's a honky instrumental, too, called 'City Talk', which is very commercial."

"They're mostly New York songs; 'Roller Roller', one called 'Street Patrol' and one that I don't know if they'll let me include."

The latter number, "Guts," is described as being a very bitchy little ditty with a refrain utilizing a fair degree of Anglo Saxon.

Which apparently brings us back to Eno.

"You heard that a taxi ran over his legs? He was walking along in a dream. The worst thing, though, was the horror story he told about the hospital. He had to have his head shaved and they put in 17 stitches, but they didn't give him an anaesthetic. Then after that they found it had been done wrong so they took them out and began again."

"He said it was like M.A.S.H. or Lady Godiva's Operation. Nasty."

Much to his chagrin Cale missed seeing The Beach Boys play at Santa Monica but did manage to let Brian hear "Mr. Wilson."

And considering that gentleman's partial deafness, Cale inadvertently describes the song's reception rather unfortunately -- "It went in one ear and out the other".

"Recently Brian made this bizarre Christmas single which wasn't released. It began 'I can hear the reindeer' and ended up 'here comes Santa Claus'."

"Recently he's got very paranoid that someone else is sleeping with his wife. He was with Terry Melcher, and Melcher said 'Look Brian if it was anybody else...but a chick who looks like that...come on.' And Wilson said, 'You're right'."

Apparently Brian suddenly decided the time was right for recording, a rare occurrence, and got very enthusiastic about returning to the console. "When he played his stuff to the engineer the sound was so diffused that he said, 'Gee I don't know, it's hard to tell', whereupon Wilson stormed out shouting, 'If you don't like it then I know who will'."

Apart from this saga, Cale is a veritable mine of information on just about every controversial artist in L.A. It seems Iggy Stooge, who's first two albums he produced, is at last drifting back towards a state of comparative coherency.

"I've got some of the things that he did with James Williamson. He's pulled the lyrics together, like 'Kill City', and they're interesting. I want to work with him again but he's got to grow out of Raw Power. He'll have to start being rational so that they can make an album and do a tour. Strangely enough Williamson turned out to be more stable than anyone thought."

The last totally new venture Cale was linked with -- Jonathan Richmond and the Modern Lovers -- has recently been dropped by Warners, although Cale insists they were stronger than the Stooges are now.

"Richmond's crazy. As soon as you congratulate him he hates you, but if you criticise him that's fine."

Anyway, Richmond appears to be attempting a solo career, which may or may not be over-seered by Cale, who also has commitments of his own to fulfil.

"We've got Carnegie Hall booked to repeat the June 1st thing, using the same people all with an equal set."

But isn't it high time he arranged a tour for himself, particularly after cancelling the Victoria Palace gigs?

"Well, I pulled out there because the band was nowhere near tight enough. It's not that I'm frightened of playing but I haven't done it for so long. I suppose it depends on your personality. I got confidence after the Rainbow and it grew on the other two dates when I found I really could do it. I'm getting more paranoid about sitting on my ass for two months doing nothing. What I need is a manager like Scaduto, someone who sets fires under promoters, then I might have faith in it."

Although Cale visits America very regularly, commuting between California and New York, he and Lou Reed remain estranged. "I haven't seen Lou in years. Is Ronson still producing him? No? Perhaps Lou will join the Rolling Stones." He lurches forward in his seat and chuckles at the idea of such an unholy alliance.

Considering that Reed has yet to surpass his achievements with the Velvets and also that many people hope against hope for their re-formation I wondered why exactly Cale did quit after the making of White Light, White Heat.

"There wasn't any point in carrying on. We weren't working on the songs, the product wasn't interesting and it wasn't satisfactory to Lou or me. I don't like the third album."

But then Reed never seems satisfied with anything he's ever done, preferring rather to make a living out of being unnecessarily maudlin to the point of becoming tedious and unlistenable.

"He thinks that by sticking to his guns he'll succeed, and he has. He's got that whole sickness market tied up."

Cale attributes most of Reed's problems to the aftermath of simple popularity. "I can sympathise with him. I was in Holland doing a radio interview and I'd got pissed in the afternoon so by the time I came to the interview I was totally out of it."

"The guy said, 'I'd like to ask you a few questions' and I said 'Sod off you bastard'. I started punching him and he slapped my face."

"All this went out on the air. Afterwards I got a letter from the company saying that I wouldn't have felt a thing if they'd performed major surgery on me."

"I know what Lou's going through. He's also a terrible hypochondriac. You name a symptom and he thinks he's got it. Like he thought he has syphilis because his balls felt heavy. So he went to the doctor and had him weigh them. Can you imagine that!"

Some months back the Velvets chanteuse, Fraulein Nico, interviewed by Mr. Kent, made some assertions about Cale that, even viewed charitably, were close to offensive.

"I'm sure she found it hard to work with me and I know where those remarks were aimed -- but they're made more out of jealousy than anything. Jealousy is a real human failing. If you recognise it as that I don't mind."

Cale certainly doesn't give any indication of an anti-social manner but converses pleasantly even when matters at hand have unpleasant connotations. Nico's last album he describes as being, "Hard, but not impossible to make. I wish she'd done 'Streets of Laredo' though."

And "The End" itself? "I have reservations about that. It's a man's song and she really took a lot on by doing it."

Personally, I found the version an almost unqualified disaster, completely lacking the original's spine-chilling momentum. Cale's production, of course, was superb. But he's reticent about talents in that field, although undoubtedly one of the most innovative producer-arrangers we have. His musical direction on The Marble Index is an excellent example of a producer stamping personality in a creative sense and not as an infuriating ego-trip.

In retrospect, did Tom Wilson do a good job on the first two Velvet Underground records?

"Well, we gave him a hard time and Lou didn't want him after White Light. See, he used to have three girls in the studio at once and they'll all be bopping around, spade dancing, while we were out there making art, serious bloody art. I know it was an engineer's nightmare, separating the instruments. Gary Kelvin did that, or he tried."

On the last album, Fear, there's a track called "Gun," which is virtually a Velvets parody and leads one to believe that Cale was more of an influence initially than Reed ever let on.

"He did more lyrically but I was very involved on the musical side. Lou did most of those guitar solos though, y'know. 'Sister Ray,' 'I Heard Her Call My Name'...they were all Lou. He'd ask Sterl to do a solo and Sterling would say 'ehrrrr.. I dunno, Lou'. So Louis did them 'cos he was getting fed up."

"It was Maureen's idea to record the drums backwards on 'Here She Comes'."

Cale's recollection of live performances is hazy, but he chooses to qualify the barrier between reality and legend. "The truth and myth are always disparate. Sometimes we were great I have a tape of a date we did in Columbus. There was no applause and five minutes tuning between numbers. The audience didn't know what the hell was going on."

Present whereabouts of their female drummer. Maureen Tucker, is a current mystery but Sterling Morrison is teaching in Austin, Texas. "He's got Merchant Seamen papers from way back so he earns a lot of money in vacation doing that. I think he's also doing a Ph.D. in English History."

As for Doug Yule, who was foolish enough to take an aborted version of the band on the road, Cale knows nothing. "I only met him once. Lou wants him to play guitar again. Doug deserves something after the number of times Lou screwed him."

As the evening draws on we drift into a conversation on obscene records made by men of the calibre of P.Vert, Tampoontang and Cale's favourite, the infamous Montague.

"I heard him on WWLR once and he sang one song that lasted about half-an-hour. All it consisted of was him shouting, 'I am the magnificent Montague. I am the magnificent Montague!' Eventually they chucked him off."

Drinks, finished, Cale buttons up and vanishes into the depths of Shepherds Bush. Now there's someone who could definitely afford to orgy.