The following is an interview with Joe Oestreich, co-founder of the band Watershed, and author of Hitless Wonder: A Life in Minor League Rock and Roll (Lyons Press, 2012).
Dan:
Thanks for taking some time while your band is on tour to answer some questions for me, Joe.
Joe:
Thanks to you, Dan. I’ve been an EWN member and fan for years, so it’s my pleasure.
Dan:
The first thing that caught my attention about the book was how you framed it—the back and forth narrative going from dates during what was your current (2009) tour back to stories from the earlier days of Watershed. Was this how the manuscript always was, or was there ever a more linear attempt at telling the story? How did you end up deciding that this was the right way of telling the story?
Joe:
Hitless Wonder started as my MFA thesis project at Ohio State, and the first draft, the one that became the thesis, I did write chronologically. Trouble is, I wrote something like 350 pages and barely got the band a third of the way through our 20-plus year career. Believe me, nobody wanted to read that first draft—including my thesis committee, I’m pretty sure. But even though that version was essentially unreadable, it was an important step: telling myself the story. And the interesting part of the story, I came to realize in the writing of the thesis, was the band as we exist now, 20 years in, with all the members nearing 40, with wives and kids and mortgages. That realization led me to the eventual structure: using a recent tour—of middle-aged guys on the road, playing dive bars for small crowds—as the frame that would contain the larger, two-decades long arc.
Dan:
Flipping away from the book for a moment, as just mentioned, you studied and received your MFA from Ohio State University. What led to your decision to attend an MFA program?
Joe:
I stumbled into it, actually. My music career was at a low ebb, and I was working at a soul-sucking corporate job. So, like a lot of people, I figured when in doubt, go back to school. I’d been writing and reading creative nonfiction for years (though I thought of it using Tom Wolfe’s term, “New Journalism”) but until my wife Kate started in Ohio State’s PhD program in English Literature, I didn’t know that writing was a craft that could be taught. Through Kate I met many of the writers enrolled in the OSU MFA program, and I basically decided, if all these people can learn to become better writers, I sure as hell can. The MFA might not be for everyone, but it was absolutely the right choice for me, and I can’t speak highly enough of the faculty and students I studied with at Ohio State.
Dan:
You are out and about these past couple of weeks doing both shows with Watershed in support of the new CD, Brick and Mortar, and doing reading events for the book. What sort of differences are there for you in these performances? Are there any similarities in performing your art to crowds in the two different manners?
Joe:
One difference is that writing prose is much more difficult than writing songs. In songwriting, you can bank on the rhythm of the drums and the crunch of the guitars and the sheer rockingness of the band, but with prose, you have to create all of it from scratch, using words and nothing but words. When it comes to presenting the thing live, though, reading is much easier for me than playing is, despite the fact that I’ve been in a band much longer than I’ve been a published writer. I’d probably think differently if I had to sing my readings, if I had to hit the right key, stay on pitch, etc. The similarity lies in the fact that a reading still needs to be a performance. When a writer gives an unsuccessful reading, it’s usually because he has forgotten that he should be reading for the audience. Instead he’s reading at them—or worse, just near them.
Dan:
A few things specific to the book and the writing of it—your wife, Kate, at one point during that last tour accused you of burying things when there’s some rough going, maybe not always being willing to get into the arguments necessary to get to the bottom of things. Which had me wondering when you wrote in the book that you felt that the band’s best direction would be if there was a 60/40 split favoring your songs over Colin’s, if his reading it in the manuscript was the first time he’d heard those thoughts of yours?
Joe:
I don’t think I’d ever straight-out said that to Colin before. And Kate is absolutely right that I tend to bury things in order to avoid conflict. That’s one of my great failings. Communication, as Oprah will tell you, is key—and conflict, as Dr. Phil will tell you, can be productive in the long term. But for some reason I tend to want to please people, and that means sidestepping conflict. The irony, of course, is that you can’t please people by pretending that everything is all sweetness and light, and you can’t just bury the bitter and dark. When those bitter and dark things ultimately get unearthed, they come back worse than they were the first time. Like zombies, I guess. Better to suck it up and have the argument early, when the stakes are lowest. Maybe I’ll have learned that lesson by the band’s 50-year anniversary.
Dan:
There’s a point in the past when the band was working on a CD at a studio in Saline, MI and the producer had you come in without the others and you produced your song, Suckerpunch, using Detroit area musicians to back you. The rest of the band found it ironic that it was that particular song as they’d felt sucker punched; felt as if you’d cheated on them. Did it take hearing them say that out loud to you, or had you maybe realized you were doing something that didn’t completely fit Watershed before they reacted?
Joe:
I knew that by playing with other musicians I was betraying the Watershed guys to some degree. None of us had ever gone outside the marriage before, and I suppose I made that trip to Detroit because I was feeling frustrated—like maybe my songs weren’t getting their just due. But, as in the previous question, instead of having the argument with Colin, I did an end-around up to Saline. Conflict avoidance. And again, that sidestep up to Michigan caused much many more hard feelings than if I would have just had the “I’m frustrated” talk with Colin in the first place.
Dan:
You’re very honest in the book, not just about the few ups and many downs of the music industry. You’re also very upfront about your relationships, with Kate, with Colin, with the other band members. If you felt somebody was a douche bag fifteen years ago you note it now. A few pronged question I guess—did anybody go over the manuscript prior to it being published and ask for things to be removed (mainly I’m thinking Kate or Watershed members here)? Has anybody that didn’t have an opportunity to do so have any complaints once the book was published?
Joe:
I tried hard to get to the truth about what it’s really like to play in a band generally and in Watershed specifically, and to that end, I knew I needed to present the characters, including myself, warts-and-all. Nobody’s a villain, but nobody’s a saint either. Of course I knew that the real Colin and the real Kate would be reading the book, and I did my best to get them right. I think they agree that I did. They haven’t told me otherwise, anyway. Kate was my primary editor as I took the manuscript through the drafting and revising process, so she saw very early how she would be characterized, down to the inclusion of personal emails that she’d sent me. I’ve got to give her credit for the guts it takes to grant me permission to reveal those rocky marriage moments. Really, though, I give everyone in the book credit. It must be uncomfortable—no check that, frightening, to surrender narrative control of your life. Everyone has been exceedingly generous. Back to the prongs of the question: I did show a draft to the band, but it was a fairly late one. I needed to find out what I had to say before I got too much input from everyone else. Nobody asked to have anything removed, and I’ve only fielded minor complaints—all from relatively minor characters.
Dan:
While the subtitle invoked the minor leagues of rock and roll, Watershed did have their moment in the sunshine, the call up to the majors in 1993 when Epic signed the band. Was there a big difference between how things were going for the band during that year than the other 20 plus years of the band if you take away the money? They gave you a quarter of a million dollars to record your CD and partially fund a tour—they got you an opening slot for a couple of Cheap Trick arena sized shows and on a Smithereens tour. You were still driving all six of you (four band members, pseudo manager and roadie) in a large van, and holding yourselves to very small per diems for living expenses. What would you say were the biggest differences for the period of time you were on the label?
Joe:
Yeah, it’s not like we signed the Epic deal and suddenly we were cabbage-patching on the deck of a yacht, snorting cocaine through rolled-up hundys. Instead we all moved back in with our parents, trying to save as much of the $250,000 as we could. We lived on bagels and Campbell’s chicken noodle, and, as you said, we paid ourselves a $15 per diem and rode around in the same beat-up van to the same bar gigs we always had. The main difference is that the Watershed posters hanging in those bars now had the Epic logo on them, and that gave us some credibility with record stores and radio stations. Thanks to Epic none of us had to work a day job for two years, we recorded an album at the Power Station in New York, and we got the chance to play with Cheap Trick and The Smithereens, bands we loved. All of which cost almost exactly $250,000, meaning that when Epic dropped us, we walked with nothing but the Cheap Trick pics we’d plucked off the floor. But most of all, the major label deal—getting signed, man—was the culmination of what we thought was the dream. Losing that dream stung, but I’m so glad we spent those two years in the majors. The Epic honey wasn’t all cocaine and yachts, but it was still pretty sweet.
Dan:
One nice bit of foreshadowing you snuck into the narrative was the fact that you had followed The Spin Doctors to Epic—same managers, same label, same A&R man. Those that are old enough remember that The Spin Doctors burst seemingly out of nowhere with one mother of a catchy song that you couldn’t escape from even if you didn’t have a radio, and then a couple of years later bombed with many capital letters. On the way up, frequent Watershed as the next Spin Doctors comparisons—Were you all too in the moment at the time to have seen the same type of foreshadowing that your readers will? Granted, we have the benefit of the subtitle on the book’s cover.
Joe:
When we signed with Epic, the Spin Doctors were still riding high, so, as “The Next Band from the People Who Brought You the Spin Doctors,” we hoped Epic could work the same magic for us. But just before our major-label debut was released, the Spin Doctors’ second album absolutely tanked, and suddenly being “The Next Band from the People Who Brought You the Spin Doctors” was a not such a great thing to be. Still, Spin Doctors or no Spin Doctors, we knew that the odds of Watershed becoming big stars were long, long, long. In our hometown, Columbus, we’d already seen several bands (The Royal Crescent Mob, The Toll, Willie Phoenix) get signed to major labels and then dropped when their records didn’t sell. So, sure, we knew the major label dream could end anytime, we just didn’t think it would be quite so soon. But that’s the stubborn brilliance of youth. You know the odds are long, and you do it anyway.
Dan:
Just before Epic dropped the band, things were seeming to look up—song getting more airplay, a couple of big shows. I’m assuming you guys have thought about this over and over—do you think their switching things over so that their up and comers Silverchair, a band with a big hook of a story (16 year olds if I remember right), would take your place in many of the summer shows had much to do with their decision?
Joe:
Actually I think the equation here is pretty simple. Our record didn’t sell enough copies to keep the label interested, so they cut their losses and moved on.
Dan:
Do you have a favorite touring story? One that you may have told more than any other at parties or get togethers?
Joe:
Do I ever. But if you want to get the ones that aren’t in the book, you’re going to have to belly up next to me at the bar, and buy me a cocktail or two.
Dan:
Throwing out some band names—some that most should know, some that are Detroit area specific to the late 80’s/early 90’s. I’m curious to hear your quick reactions to each of them:
The Replacements
Joe:
The perfect combination of genius songwriting and fuck-around live shows. Took rock and roll just as seriously as it ought to be taken, which is to say: not. When they broke up, all four solo albums were stellar. Too much talent for one band.
Dan:
Cheap Trick
Joe:
As a friend of mine once told me, “I want you to want me” is the first and last sentiment in all rock songs. It’s what every tune is trying to say, but nobody else says it quite that clearly. If Watershed were good enough to pull it off (read: if we could sing like Robin Zander), we’d be a Cheap Trick tribute band. The fact that they aren’t in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame shows you just how meaningless that particular hall is.
Dan:
The Goo Goo Dolls (especially curious to hear your thoughts on difference between their first three CD’s and the rest)
Joe:
I’m an unapologetic Goo Goo Dolls fan. Like Watershed they have two lead singers, but you’d barely know it from listening to their last four or five records. Once “Name” hit it big, Johnny, the better-looking one, started singing almost all the tunes. The conventional wisdom is that they sold out (whatever that means) after “Name” and that their early, more punky stuff is better. You hear this “they were better when they were younger” argument applied to the Replacements, Soul Asylum, and lots of bands. I don’t buy it. Sure, there’s the urgency and energy of a young band, but I tend to think bands (like writers) improve as they age. Why wouldn’t they get better at their craft? In the Goo Goo Dolls’ case, the title track from a relatively recent record, 2006’s Let Love In, is one of their best songs (although I have to deduct points because it was co-written with not just one but two songsmiths-for-hire, Glen Ballard and Gregg Wattenberg). At any rate, I think the Goo Goo Dolls hit their stride mid-career, with 1993’s Superstar Car Wash.
Dan:
Junk Monkeys
Joe:
I love this band, especially their 1992 album, “Bliss,” the record that should have made them famous. In the late eighties, Buffalo had the Goo Goo Dolls, Minneapolis had Soul Asylum, and Detroit had the Junk Monkeys. All three of these bands sprung forth from the Replacements, and in a better world, the Junk Monkeys would have gotten just as big as the other two.
Dan:
Goober and the Peas
Joe:
I never saw them live, but we ran the same circuit. I remember playing Frankie’s in Toledo the night after a Goober and the Peas show. In my memory, at least, there was leftover hay everywhere.
Dan:
How is teaching at Coastal Carolina? What do you do that can say you more than likely borrowed from one of your OSU professors?
Joe:
Teaching at Coastal is the best job I’ve ever had (discounting, I suppose, the two years when Watershed was on Epic). It’s a really good school with a talented and dedicated faculty. My colleagues in the creative writing cabal, poet Dan Albergotti and fiction writer Jason Ockert (who has a book forthcoming from Dzanc), are top notch. And shoot, almost everything I say in class is borrowed from one of my OSU professors, but the one maxim that comes to mind now is courtesy of the great Lee K. Abbott: “Write it all down. The spit and string and sweat of us, the purl and sweep of our condemned kind. Write it all down. The hopes and fears we are, the yip and yike we are in the dark. The hand and head and heart of us. Write it all down.”
Dan:
What differences and/or similarities are there in the satisfaction of completing a writing project—a book, an essay for Esquire, versus finishing a song and hearing it sound just like you expected when you started writing it?
Joe:
They never quite feel finished—even after the essay has been published or the song has been released. I’m always thinking about what I might have done differently. Still, it’s always satisfying to create something that didn’t exist before, and it’s exciting to watch that new thing make it’s wobbly way into the world for better or worse.
Dan:
So, the big question you seem to be looking to answer, beyond simply chronicling what it’s like to be in a band for 20 plus years, is whether or not the fact that you’re still out there rocking it and making new CD’s is admirable, or pathetic. Have you come to a conclusion on this question?
Joe:
It’s admirable. Absolutely. It doesn’t always feel that way at the micro, night-by-night level, but writing the book gave me the chance to see our career from 30,000 feet, and from there, we look pretty good. Then again, what doesn’t?
Dan:
If you were a character in Fahrenheit 451, what work(s) would you memorize for posterity?
Joe:
Tom Wolfe’s The Right Stuff, because if I could memorize it, then maybe I’d get closer to figuring out how he can make me care so much about topics I’m not predisposed to give a damn about.
Dan:
Thanks again, Joe, for both the great book, and for taking time from your busy schedule to answer some questions for the EWN.
Joe:
Anytime, Dan. And thanks again to you. You’re doing God’s work out here, man.
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