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These articles are aranged in
chronological order. In other words, the oldest ones are
at the beginning and to get to the newest articles you
need to go to the bottom of the page.
See
Also:
Concert News & Reviews Writeups
on various Mazzy concert gigs.
Album Reviews About 20
different reviews of Among My Swan and I rank
them, so you don't have to waste your time on the bad
ones.
Foreign Language
For our german-speaking friends.
Contribute to Everything Mazzy.
Do you have any Mazzy Star articles, reviews, press
material or other print items cluttering up your place?
Send them to me, either in real or electronic form. I'll
post them here, for the world to see.
Attention California Readers:
I assume Mazzy Star has gotten a lot of attention in the
local press. If you have any local newspapers, magazines
or giveaways (BAM, etc) with Mazzy articles or pictures,
send them in.
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L.A.
Confidential
Rolling Stone’s news column -
September 2, 1993
The always trippy Mazzy Star previewed material from
their forthcoming album, So Tonight That I Might See,
at the blues haunt, the Mint. Curiously, vocalist Hope
Sandoval admonished the rapt crowed for its applause.
“Why are you clapping?” she asked. “You
weren’t even listening.” --David
Wild.
|
| Many thanks to Jennifer
for contributing and typing this article. |
Single of the Moment
The Jesus and Mazzy Chain
Rolling Stone - October 6, 1994
By Matt Hendrickson
If it had been up to William and Jim Reid, the
brothers who front the Jesus and Mary Chain, they
wouldn't have chosen "Sometimes Always" to be
the first single off their new album, Stoned and
Dethroned.
"It was a surprise to us that people thought it
should be a single, because the demo was so bleak,"
says William. "Even after we recorded it, it still
didn't seem like a single."
"I've given up guessing what could be a single or
what couldn't be," says Jim with a sigh.
"Whatever song we think will be a big hit, it never
is. What we do now is just make the record and listen to
other people's opinions."
"Sometimes Always" features the hypnotic
voice of Mazzy Star lead singer Hope Sandoval. She's
rumored to be the girlfriend of William Reid, to which he
curtly replies, "We're just good friends." The
song is a gripping tug of war between Sandoval (the
jilted girlfriend) and Jim Reid (the repentant
boyfriend).
The Reid brothers had been waiting for more than three
years to record with Sandoval. "We always really
liked her voice," William says. "But we didn't
have the song that could work until 'Sometimes
Always.'"
"They sent me the song, and I thought it was
really good," Sandoval says. "[Mazzy Star] were
in London, touring, and I went to their studio and met
them for the first time. The recording took two days, and
it was really difficult. They produce their own records,
so they were really picky, which is totally
understandable. The fun part was having wine and talking
and laughing."
Originally when we conceived the record, we were going
to have many more guests on it," says Jim. "But
for various reasons, it didn't work out, so we just asked
people we really liked." Former Pogue Shane MacGowan
also appears, handling the vocals on the harrowing lament
"God Help Me."
Stoned and Dethroned is the Jesus and Mary Chain's
sixth release (counting 1988's B-sides compilation,
Barbed Wire Kisses). It was originally planned as an
all-acoustic album, but the band scrapped the idea after
a few months of recording. "Everyone thinks the band
is all guitar and feedback," Jim says. "It's
quite easy to plug a guitar into a fuzz pedal and make
some interesting sounds. We were trying really hard not
to use electric guitars, and it got to the point where we
said, 'This is silly. Let's just make a record.'"
The band is hitting the road with Mazzy Star this
October and is looking forward to a tour more suited to
its tastes than its difficult stint on 1992's
Lollapalooza tour. "Lollapalooza was a big, big
mistake," William says with no hesitation.
"Aside from the fact that we hated playing in the
daylight, it was supposed to be a meeting place for
people who were different. But we felt different from all
the people who were supposed to be different. It was like
everyone was trying to be a professional freak or
weirdo."
"We are freaks and weirdos," Jim stated
matter-of-factly. "But we don't make such a big deal
about it."
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Rolling Stone -
October 20, 1994
Incense and
Insolence
Mazzy Star Carry The Torch For ‘60s
Psychedelia
And The Importance Of Being Difficult
By Alec Foege
"It was totally unpleasant for me," says
Hope Sandoval, Mazzy star’s laconic lead singer. The
dire seriousness with which she makes this confession
about her band’s recent appearance on Late Night
with Conan O’Brien is at once touching and
unintentionally comical. "If you’re nervous in
front of 500 people—"
Sandoval chooses her every word with utmost care, as
if she were baring her soul, and yet negates each
response with a scowl and a sidelong gaze, her dark hair
wisping into her eyes. This time even the cool,
beret-wearing David Roback, Sandoval’s songwriting
partner and the guitarist in the group, appears ruffled
and tries to catch his band mate’s eye. "They
were nice to us," he says, filling the void with an
easy smile. "It wasn’t unpleasant in that
way."
After another elliptical lull, Sandoval rejoins the
conversation. "They were really nice to us,"
she says. "I just get nervous and tight. . . . And
it’s so bright. . . . .We’re not used to all
the bright light."
One hour and two bottles of red wine into a friendly
but halting conversation that at moments bears a
disconcerting resemblance to the more abstruse exchanges
in Waiting for Godot, Sandoval and Roback have made a few
salient points: (1): Regardless of the success that has
recently befallen the group, Mazzy Star do not relish fan
idolatry; (2) Mazzy Star prefer to let the music on So
Tonight That I Might See, their second album, speak for
itself; (3) Mazzy Star do not enjoy doing interviews; and
(4) performing live, particularly performing live on
television, has a lot in common with a visit to the
dentist’s office.
"For me recording is better," says Sandoval.
"Live, I just get really nervous. Once you’re
onstage, you’re expected to perform. I don’t do
that. I always feel awkward about just standing there and
not speaking to the audience. It’s difficult for
me."
Despite a public reticence that verges on the bizarre,
Mazzy Star have eked out a bona fide hit with "Fade
Into You" nearly a year after So Tonight That I
Might See was first released. Exposure on MTV’s Buzz
Bin and VH-1, as well as Sandoval’s cameo on the
Jesus and Mary Chain single "Sometimes Always,"
recently eased Mazzy Star’s lush, majestic music
into the limelight. They were even willing to brave an
October appearance in front of an arena-size crowd at
Neil Young’s annual Bridge School benefit in San
Francisco.
"Things are basically the same," Sandoval
says of Mazzy Star’s newfound fame. "We’re
just sticking to our ways. Writing the way we’ve
always done it. There’s really no need to
change."
Rain Parade, an early Roback band, first hit the scene
in 1982 as part of a loose aggregate of psychedelic
‘60s-influenced guitar bands in Los Angeles –
including the Dream Syndicate, the Bangles, Green on Red
and the Three O’Clock –that became known after
the fact as the Paisley Underground. The moniker
acknowledged the scene’s two main influences –
the Velvet Underground and Woodstock-era acid rock. Dark,
moody and drenched in guitar feedback, Rain Parade’s
music was not merely out of sync with the early-’80s
trend toward synthesizer-based New Wave. "They were
the trippiest, most hypnotic of all the paisley
bands," recalls Steve Wynn, leader of the
now-defunct Dream Syndicate. "All the other bands in
the scene felt some obligation to rock now and then. But
the early Rain Parade played at three speeds: slow,
slower and slowest."
Roback left Rain Parade following their first album
and formed a quartet called Clay Alison with Kendra
Smith, the original; bassist from the Dream Syndicate.
That group, which included Mazzy Star drummer Keith
Mitchell, mutated into a new band, Opal, whose sound was
defined by Roback’s spare, distorted guitar work and
Smith’s lyrical voice.
"When I was playing in Opal, we were friends,
Hope and I," Roback recalls. "But I don’t
think we were really part of the music scene in the way
that people may have perceived it at that point.
Actually, we were both sort of alienated –
that’s what we had in common."
The waifish Sandoval had admired Kendra Smith as a
teen-age Dream Syndicate fan growing up in Los Angeles.
Not surprisingly, Going Home, a folk duo she formed in
1986 with her friend Sylvia Gomez, soon caught
Roback’s attention; he even offered to produce their
first album. Although the resulting recording was never
released (4AD will finally issue the disc next spring),
Roback invited Sandoval to join Opal when Smith left the
band midtour. While the new band’s musical precepts
remained the same, Sandoval’s kittenish vocals
inspired them to collaborate under a new name –
Mazzy Star.
Mazzy Star’s debut, She Hangs Brightly (1990),
garnered critical acclaim and cultish attention by dosing
drug-frazzled indie rock with acoustic guitars and a
pedal steel. But within a year of the album’s
release, the band’s label, British indie Rough
Trade, closed down its stateside operation, leaving the
group without an American label. Capitol snapped up the
group and in 1992 re-released She Hangs Brightly. The
band has mined the same sluggishly resplendent vein ever
since.
In concert, Sandoval’s wan countenance and
commanding alto are undeniably the center of attention;
Roback lurks in the shadows with a virtually anonymous
backing band. Although Sandoval and Roback share
songwriting duties, the word chemistry overstates their
relationship. For one, Sandoval lives in Los Angeles;
Roback is based in Berkeley, Calif. She’s moody, and
he’s withdrawn. Fortunately their edgy songs often
get along fine without them. "For ‘Into
Dust,’ David’s guitar part was just so
moving," Sandoval says. "We didn’t even
stop and write. He just played the guitar part, I sang,
we recorded it, and that was it. What you hear on the
record is basically the first time we did it."
These days, Mazzy Star sell out every show. But you
wouldn’t know it from the crowd reaction at the
band’s packed club dates; rock acolytes don’t
come much quieter. "They’re understanding that
that’s what it takes to get us to stay out there
longer than 30 minutes," says Sandoval.
"It’s just like anything else: If you were
talking to a group of people, and everybody was there to
listen to you, it would be rude if five people were
having a drink and a loud laugh. Obviously we’re not
the Red Hot Chili Peppers." The particularly subdued
"Into Dust" is known within the band as the
"Shush Song," a reference to the devoted fans
who shush the uninitiated whenever it is performed.
William Reid of the Jesus and Mary Chain, the Scottish
band that will begin a five-week U.S. tour with Mazzy
Star on Oct.10, feels that it’s unfair to expect
more than music from musicians. "Some bands –
and Mazzy Star and the Jesus and Mary Chain are among
them – feel uncomfortable doing all the other stuff:
the business and the bull sessions and doing the
deals," he says. Reid also defends his California
friends; notorious reputation for stalling interviews,
admitting, "It’s not the perfect arena to be in
if you happen to be a shy person."
Whether Sandoval and Roback’s aloofness is a
gambit or a genuine case of the introverted blues
(it’s probably a bit of both), there’s no doubt
it’s contiguous to the band’s ethereal,
swirling music. All that is difficult and apprehensive
about the pair in person becomes that which is most
splendid in their music. On "Mary of Silence,"
Sandoval’s echoey voice blends with a repetitive,
funeral organ part as Roback’s combustive guitar
plashes in the distance. "So Tonight That I Might
See," the album’s title track, has all the
primal drama of the Doors’ "The End"
without its mawkishly serious stance. If music is
"cinema of the mind," as Roback likes to say,
then Mazzy Star are a beautiful art-house flick dubbed in
English, its reels shown out of order.
"I know Dave pretty well, and I don’t think
it’s an act in any way," says Steve Wynn.
"Sometimes when people demand to do things the way
they want to do it, it’s taken as arrogance or
snobbishness. It’s really just a matter of wanting
to do something the way you hear it in your head."
To ensure absolute control, Roback produces all of Mazzy
Star’s recordings.
While little else on the charts indicates a
groundswell of dirge-like, introspective music, enduring
interest in the dour, faceless Pink Floyd suggests that
supermarket-aisle recognition is no longer a prerequisite
for rock super-stardom. "There’s something nice
about being unknown and anonymous," says Roback.
"People who are unpopular or aren’t successful
are making great music all the time. But it’s also
interesting to be able to do our concerts and to realize
some of our ideas. So I don’t see success as a
negative thing."
|
| |
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Once
again,
kudos to Jennifer. She's the reason you're reading this. |
| Yep,
Jennifer. |
Details: December 1994
Lucky Star
by Caren Myers
"Are you in Mazzy Star?"
The chubby girl with purple hair is poised, piece of
paper in hand. Hope Sandoval, the singer for Mazzy Star,
nods faintly. Pleased, the girl turns eagerly to David
Roback, Mazzy Star's guitarist. "And are you in the
Jesus and Mary Chain?" There's an embarrassed
silence. Ordinarily, the fact that Hope has been dating
the Mary Chain's William Reid would be of interest only
to those select fans for whom indie music is as glamorous
as the cast of Melrose Place. Unfortunately, one of them
is here now, looking only slightly crestfallen.
"Will you sign this anyway?" she asks. Hope
signs dutifully. That's the first time I've ever been
asked for an autograph," she murmurs. "It's
like she's controlling you - for ten seconds, she's got
you doing what she wants you to do." Mazzy Star
don't want to do what people want them to do. It's not
that they're so very contrary; they just can't cope. This
summer, their languid, country-inflected single
"Fade Into You" wafted onto MTV, frail and
strangely touching. Next to the usual vein-bulging tales
of trauma, David's lonesome slide guitar and Hope's soft,
nearly affectless voice sounded pleasingly alien. Now
their second album, So Tonight That I Might See, has gone
gold. David and Hope find this alarming. "We never
thought people would like our music," says David. At
all? "Well, we thought maybe a few people would like
it." And he means a few. Like five. Preferably very
quiet people who lived very far away. And who, if they
came to see Mazzy Star play live, wouldn't do anything
embarrassing like stare at them.
When Mazzy Star released their first album, 1990's She
Hangs Brightly, its shivery collage of slow, sparse
blues and sepulchral lyrics retraced a neo-Velvet
Underground vein that had been mined before - by Opal
(David's previous band), by the Cowboy Junkies, by the
entire roster of 4AD. But Mazzy Star's ghostly
atmospherics and Hope's sullen-child persona made them
moodier pinups than the rest. They found an audience of
fans who shrank from alternative music's new macho
flourishes.
So Tonight That I Might See is more of the same,
only more so: sadder, more distant. "I could feel
myself growing colder," whispers Hope on "Into
Dust". "I could feel my eyes turning into
dust." The record has taken off, maybe because its
self-effacing creators don't stamp their own stories all
over its lovely, numbing songs. In an age obsessed with
messy revelations of inner pain, Mazzy Star's eerie,
faintly psychedelic lullabies offer a soothing retreat
for those weary of catharsis. Most bands thrive on
attention. And if they have to shut themselves away in a
studio for a few weeks a year - well, that's the price of
fame. For David and Hope - who like to spend their breaks
from Mazzy Star making even more music together -
releasing records, at the risk of attracting attention,
is the price for months undisturbed in the rehearsal
room. Ever since Brian Wilson took to his bed in 1973 and
didn't leave until 1975, rock recluses have tended to be
either Syd Barrett-style drug casualties or anonymous
agitpropists like the Residents. J Mascis, Dinosaur Jr's
leader, broke the mold: He just didn't like to talk.
After J, it was possible to be spectacularly
uncommunicative without even being eccentric. Mazzy Star
follow in his footsteps. Hope passes every question on to
David, and David unfurls a full arsenal of minutes-long
silences and vague generalities. Occasionally, for
variety, he'll speed things up.
ME: Did you ever...
DAVID: No.
Despite their misgivings, Mazzy Star agree to meet me in
a Mexican restaurant in Berkeley, David's neighborhood.
They lope in just late enough to be trendy, in matching
dark glasses. Hope's family is Mexican-American, but
she's too self-conscious about her Spanish ("It's
real slangy") to speak to the waiter in anything but
English. Hope has always been shy. When she was in the
fourth grade, her timidity was so severe that she was put
into a special education program. Being with the rowdiest
kids in the system didn't help, and she eventually
refused to go to school at all. The city had to send a
home tutor. David and Hope order Bohemia beers, glance at
each other, smile fleetingly. Hope props her chin on her
hand and gazes at the other diners. There's a pause. Then
David touches her arm affectionately. "What are you
thinking about?" he asks. Hope looks at him.
"I'll tell you," she says finally, "but I
still think it's an invasion of my privacy." She
takes a deep breath. "I was just thinking that a lot
of people drink beer with their food."
Hope was born twenty-eight years ago in East L.A., the
daughter of a butcher. Her parents both had kids from
previous marriages, so Hope has five half-sisters, three
half-brothers, and one full brother. He's now a punk
florist who makes barbed-wire bouquets. Hope met David
when she was fourteen, trekking off to see bands with her
friend Sylvia Gomez. David grew up in Hollywood with
"a few" siblings. His parents "weren't
musicians". In the early '80s, he formed the trippy
Rain Parade with his brother Steven. Along with the Dream
Syndicate, the Three O'Clock, and even briefly the
Bangles, they contributed to an L.A. '60s revival that
was dubbed the Paisley Underground. Hope and Sylvia hung
around the clubs, meeting the musicians and getting
smuggled in under bouncer's noses. One time they got in
by passing themselves off as go-go dancers for Green on
Red. But sometimes they'd get busted for being underage.
Hope still remembers how horrible it felt to stand in the
parking lot while the band played inside. Sylvia went to
college, and Hope and David started dating. When Opal
split, Mazzy Star became Hope and David's project. And
somewhere along the line, their romance ended. Which
makes me wonder if they feel nostalgic, and whether the
dark intimacy of So Tonight That I Might See is about
that. I wonder if David is still in love with Hope. I
wonder what it's like spending their time together when
Hope's got William and David's got his memories. I can
guess they're not dying to talk about it. So I ask the
simplest question I can think of.
How long did you actually go out?
Hope laughs nervously, glancing at David. David is
silent, frowning like he's trying to remember something.
Time passes. Finally he thinks of an answer. "A lot
of the things we do are very interesting, and I think
we're very fortunate to be able to do them," he
says. Then he leaves for the bathroom.
Once he's gone, a nervous-looking guy with long hair
approaches the table. He's clutching the CD of So Tonight
That I Might See.
LONG-HAIRED GUY: Excuse me, but may I swoop down on you
with a humble request?
HOPE: Um . . . it depends on what the request is.
LONG-HAIRED GUY: Just some kind words for a frustrated
sculptor.
Hope writes him a few kind words ("Hope
Sandoval"), shaking her head. "I don't know
what's happening here," she says. The sculptor
thanks her and bows stiffly.
"Your music has touched me," he says.
"That was nice," Hope says wistfully.
"Though sometimes I get really nervous and I don't
know how to handle it." She looks genuinely spooked,
like she's recalling scenes of Beatlemania-type hysteria.
Don't you want to communicate with these people?
"Yeah," says David, who has just returned,
"but sometimes you write a song for one person, and
then everybody else hears it later."
And is that person usually Hope?
David shifts warily in his seat. "I think," he
says slowly, "there's a sense of each other's
presence often in our work, whether it's directly about
one another or not. There's a sense . . . of . . . a
presence."
We're all quiet again. Hope and David stare into space,
in different directions. There's a tangible feeling of
loss - the things that go unsaid still hang between them.
And now I think I can see what touched the sculptor.
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Mesmerizing New Album Coming From Mazzy
Star
Hope Sandoval: Only happy when it rains
Addicted to Noise July 21,96
by Michael Goldberg
The new Mazzy Star album, titled Among My Swan, will be
released on September 5th. The album, the duo's best yet,
is a melancholy walk through an English country side rose
garden--or maybe a solitary stroll along a river up in
Oregon somewhere. The touching "Flowers In
December" features a charming harmonica solo by
singer Hope Sandoval, who wrote all of the lyrics with
the exception of those for "Rhymes Of An Hour,"
which were co-written by Sandoval and her partner in
crime, guitarist/songwriter Dave Roback, who is
responsible for all of the music on the album. Roback
also produced the album, with a co-production credit
going to Sandoval.
This album is the kind you listen to late at night, when
you're feeling as down as can be, and need some music to
fit your mood. Guitarist William Reid--yeah, the
brilliant noise-meister from The Jesus and Mary
Chain--appears on a song called "Take
Everything." Other songs on the album:
"Disappear," "Cry, Cry," "Still
Cold," "All Your Sisters," "I've Been
Let Down," "Rose Blood,"
"Happy," "Umbilical" and "Look
On Down From The Bridge." It's too bad that Garbage
already wrote a song called "I'm Only Happy When It
Rains," cause that one ought to be the theme song
for Mazzy Star. While some of Sandoval's melodies make me
think that she's listened to Bob Dylan's "Knockin'
On Heaven's Door" about 2000 times, her voice and
Roback's musical settings for it are strikingly unique.
Simply gorgeous in a dark, femme fatale kind of way.
Capitol Records Press
Release
Among My Swan, the new Mazzy Star album, is out! It is
the third album from the California based band featuring
Hope Sandoval and David Roback, and it includes 12 new
Sandoval/Roback songs.
Mazzy Star began performing live on the underground music
scene in the late 1980's, and released its first album,
She Hangs Brightly, in 1990 on the independent label
Rough Trade. Despite the critical success of their first
album and their rapidly growing cult following, Mazzy
Star has remained a somewhat enigmatic presence on the
contemporary music scene. The 1993 release of their
second album So Tonight That I Might See, on Capitol
Records, further reflected their diverse and experimental
musical styles, both electric and acoustic.
Since the release of their second album, Mazzy Star has
been performing live in Europe and North America, as well
as working in the recording studio and appearing on movie
soundtracks. The new album, Among My Swan, was recorded
in California and London, and will include the new single
"Flowers in December."
[Capitol - online]
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Ray Gun November 1996
Mazzy Star in "singer
speaks" shock.
Rock writer rushed to emergency room. "Couldn't
get her to shut up," mumbles an anaesthetized Jim
Greer as his gurney trundles headlong through the
hospital doors.
by Jim Greer
For the past few days I've been going over a stack of
Mazzy Star press clippings and have talked to a number of
people who've previously interviewed the duo; the
unifying thread of both the articles and the
conversations, making allowances for differences of
perspective and personality, seems to be GET OUT OF HERE
FAST! THIS INTERVIEW WILL BE A DISASTER! But we at RayGun
will not be so easily cowed.
In the past, it seems, the pair have given such reluctant
and unforthcoming interviews that some writers have been
reduced to printing an actual count of the seconds
between question and reply - and when the reply does
come, it tends to be along the lines of "Um, I don't
know. Maybe." Which can be frustrating, after a
while, both for the writer as well as for the reader
eager for more complete picture of the enigmatic band's
collective personality. Ah, but we've got a plan. Simply
put: Divide and conquer. Due to a fortuitos logistical
arrangement, singer Hope Sandoval is here in Berkeley and
guitarist etc. David Roback is somewhere in Norway. Ray
Gun editors call up the record company loudly demanding
that interviews must be done right away, for obscure but
ominous-sounding deadline reasons. The ruse works - I'll
get to talk to Hope here alone, then jet off the next
morning to Oslo and put the screws to her partner. The
result of my efforts should be either a softening of the
glacial Mazzy Star silence or a doubling of same, with
jet lag. Either way, my frequent flyer mileage wins.
First things first: Mazzy Star has a new album out. The
reason Mazzy Star has agreed to do (a very limited amount
of) press is that Mazzy Star has a new album out. The
band has made it clear that it doesn't understand why
anyone would particulary need or want to talk to them,
especially. Everything they had to say they said on the
record. Just listen to the record, seems to be the
implied message. So, okay, the new record: Among My
Swan (I'm not even going to try to figure that one
out), while similar in vein to the previous two Mazzy
Star records, is a great improvement over what some found
to be the stylistic torpor of the last one, So
Tonight That I Might See - though that record did
represent the band's commercial breakthrough, due mostly
to the late-breaking success of the single-and-video
"Fade Into You", as well as the added exposure
the band garnered when Hope guest-sang on the
semi-popular Jesus and Mary Chain track "Sometimes
Always," which was in MTV rotation at roughly the
same time. Fans of either that record or the previous,
far better debut, She Hangs Brightly, will not
be shocked by any severe stylistic swerves on Among
My Swan. Nevertheless there's evidence of a
broadening of the traditional Mazzy palette; a more
purely pop sensibility sticks its tongue out on a couple
of the newer tracks among all the usual
country-blues-such-girl-in-a-pretty-dress-whirling-around
sort of stuff, and songs like "Dissapear" and
"Take Everything" demonstrate an increased
willingness to experiment with a broader range of sounds,
the former featuring a dissonant-but-beautiful bell
accompaniment. There's even a song called
"Happy" that seems to mean it, which in itself
could be called a stylistic breakthrough for the
determinedly melancholy duo.
Whether the new record duplicates the platinum
performance of So Tonight or not remains of course to be
seen, but the prospect of either its success or abject
failure doesn't seem to trouble the two Mazzy Stars one
whit. They seem more bemused by their newfound Modern
Rock Star status than enthusiastic about sustaining at
least the more public aspects of that status. "What
time are you flying to Norway tomorrow?" asks Hope
as we sit down at a quiet table in the Berkeley bar (The
Spam? The Spit? The Splat? Can't remember) she's chosen
for our interview. "Do you like flying or is it sort
of a drag for you?" "Um..." I begin,
hesitating, thrown a bit off guard by her forthightness.
Hope laughs. "You must not like it, because you
hesitated. So why not just do it over the phone? Or is it
more exciting in person - I mean as far as just talking
to the person in person."
"No, it's not that," I reply, slowly getting
used to the idea of having the interviewing tables turned
on me. I wonder if this is a new tactic she's developed
to avoid answering questions. Contrary to anything I'd
been led to expect, Hope appears relaxed, confident,
maybe a little quiet, but no more so than you average
sober American. "You can't really get a sense of the
person over the phone; you need to meet them so you can
better tell what they're like, I guess. Phone interviews
can be so superficial - they're really just used for sort
of utilirian promotion; although I guess there's some
aspect of that to any kind of press. I mean, why are you
here now? Because you've got a new record out. It's not
because -" Hope interjects, laughing, "It's
fun!" "Do you prefer to do phone interviews?
Are they easier?" She considers for a moment.
"Yeah. It's easier. But it's obvious why it's
easier: It's easier for basically the same reasons why
you just said it's better to do it in person."
We talked for a while about the making of Among My
Swan, which Hope tells me was recorded partly in
Berkeley - at a studio called Live Oak that the band has
used for its previous records; it's a basement studio in
a house here where bands like En Vogue usually work, but
they like it - and partly in London, at the Jesus and
Mary Chain's studio and at the Cocteau Twins' studio.
"Do you like London?" I ask. "Yeah, I love
London," she replies. "I mean, my boyfriend
(William Reid from the Mary Chain) lives there."
"What do you eat there?" I ask, genuinely
puzzled. "Umm, fish and chips," she answers
with a vague smile. "I'm big on sandwiches, too.
They have great sandwiches in London." "I
notice you have a co-production credit on this
record." "Well, David does most of the
producing, but we both analyze each and every song, and
sort of decide what guitar or whatever - mean obviously
mostly that's his, because he's the guitarist, but I
figured I should get producer's credit because I was
involved with most of it."
"Has the level of record company involvement changed
with the success of the last record? Did Capitol execs
come sniffing around the studio any more than
usual?"
"They just seemed like the way they've always
been," she says. "They're interested, but
they're not gonna force anything on us. They're
businessmen, they don't want to hurt the relationship in
any way. They want to make things go as smoothly as
possible. I know if things got really bad for Mazzy Star
it might be a different story, but right now, they're
just sort of "Let them do what they need to do and
leave them alone, and they'll make a good record."
"What about the composition of the audience? I ask.
"I know a lot of bands seem to notice a sort of
immediate change once their video gets played a lot on
MTV. The audience seems to get younger and, I don't know,
stupider in general."
"I don't think that we've reached that point,"
she replies. "I've heard that that does happen, but
I don't think it's happened to us yet. If it has, it's so
small that we haven't noticed it."
"What, no mosh pit?" "No. They didn't
really do that for us. Well, when we toured with the Mary
Chain, I would go onstange and sing "Sometimes
Always" with Jim, and people would sort of do that
slam-dancing thing."
"Has playing live gotten any easier? I know you used
to be real uncomfortable with it."
"Well yeah, all those people just staring at
you...."
"But I thought performers were supposed to crave
that kind of attention."
She demurs brightly.
"I mean, it's natural for anyone to crave attention,
and yeah I guess some people sort of OD on it. I mean, I
like attention just like the next person, but playing
live is sort of - it's really asking for it."
"Do you feel obligated to put on a show?"
"I feel obligated to sing well, and that's it. I
sense that (desire for more interaction) from them, yeah,
and that's what makes it uncomfortable. I mean, it's not
so bad now most people who come to the shows now realize
it's not going to happen, and they accept it, but in the
beginning....people would demand it. Like, they demand a
show."
Hope looks momentarily perplexed at the thought of her
demanding audience. The thought to me that at some point
I'm going to have to ask Hope about her lyrics, since
after all they represent a large part of her contribution
to the Mazzy Star experience. Knowing her reputation for
standoffishness when it comes to discussing specific
lyrics, I decide to try a more general track, first
bucking up to the task by ordering one more in a
succesion of 7 & 7s. (Hope sips occasionally
from a glass of red wine, but barely manages to finish it
by the end of our interview).
"Judging from the sort of overall bent of your
lyrics, one might think you have a somewhat jaundiced
view of relationships. In general, I mean."
"I think some of that's true," says Hope,
tracing her finger lightly over the lips of her wine
glass, "but I think people sort of project their own
feelings into the lyrics, to coincide with what's going
on in their own lives. But I guess you could say
that."
"Do you mind people coming up with different
interpretations of your songs, or is that the
point?"
"It doesn't matter what people think about the
lyrics. You can't control it anyway."
"Is there a song on the new album that you would
call flat-out celebratory and uplifting?"
"Yeah: 'Happy'"
"I wasn't sure if that was meant to be sarcastic.
When you come up with a lyric, do you have a specific
meaning in mind that you want to communicate, or is it
more of a broad emotion?"
"I don't really think about any of those things, I
just sort of talk about what is happening at that
particular moment," says Hope. "I think most
people, probably everybody who writes lyrics, they are
talking about themselves, even if they attempt to sort of
talk about their friend, it is themselves, it's their
feelings, it's their opinion of the situation. So I think
most people, if not everybody, is talking about
themselves who write lyrics."
"Does your opinion about things in general and
situations differ a lot from time to time, or are you
pretty consistent in your thinking?"
"I'm sure it changes."
"Does that mean you're (pause for comedic effect)
moody?" I joke. Hope laughs.
"I don't know, I don't know."
"How do you choose what material makes it onto any
given album, for instance this one," I ask, changing
the subject.
"We record a lot of songs and then just sort of
decide what our tastes are that particular month or week
or whatever."
"Do you ever revisit unused material?
"We plan to do that after each record, but it never
happens. We just sort of get bored of it. We just sort of
feel like if you don't write new songs you're just
stagnating or whatever."
At this point, I decide that the RayGun plan has been an
unqualified success thus far. On their own, unable to
fall back on the protection afforded by simply lapsing
into an elliptical silence, dropping the conversational
ball to be picked up and similary fumbled by the one or
the other, Hope and David were forced to be more
articulate than their reputation would admit. Or at least
Hope was. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Heady with
evident interview mastery, I strectched a bit further
than my rock writer resources were currently capable of
extending, going on an extended and web-headed analysis
of the difference in Hope's singing on Among My Swan
as opposed to her earlier stuff. All of which boiled down
to me suggesting that her melodies were a bit more
developed on this record than in the past.
"Umm...I think I know what you mean," answers
Hope kindly at the end of my rambling exegesis.
"You're the second person who's said that, so I
guess maybe it's true, I guess. It's sort of hard to
tell, I mean you just keep playing and singing music and
it's just sort of whatever happens happens."
"Do you think your voice has improved?"
"(Emphatically) No, I don't think that, but people
have told me that they think that."
We talk a while longer, mostly about not terribly
interesting things, which is my fault, I eventually start
fumbling around with the "What's the last record you
bought/book you read/movie you saw" type of fanzine
idiocy that usually marks my seventh or eighth cocktail,
when Hope is rescued at last by the arrival of her
"ride," in the person of William, her boyfriend
to whom I am politely introduced, before the two
dissapear into the Berkely evening. Early to bed for me:
I've got an eight AM plane for Norway.
Oslo, Norway. The airport hotel. A hellish (only in sense
that all intercontinental plane travel is hellish)
18-hour journey has ended here, with my head in the
minibar awaiting a call from David Roback, Mazzy Star's
other half. Flush with my previous success, I anticipate
similar accomplishment with Roback, who in any case has a
reputation for somewhat more loquacity (of course in a
relative sense) than his partner. And she wasn't any
problem at all. He calls later that evening, and we fix a
rendezvous at a place called the Library Bar off the
lobby of the Bristol Hotel in downtown Oslo. I'm glad of
the chance to be away from the airport, if only
temporarli (my flight out is scheduled for some ungodly
morning hour the next day). David is sitting in a booth
in a corner of the bar when I arrive, talking to a couple
of friends. At least, I assume they're friends. I'm early
and so take a place at the bar so as not to compound the
imposition of the interview by showing up rudely early.
Roback's easy to spot even in the well-populated bar;
with his beatnik black attire and matching beret, he
might as well be wearing a sign that reads
"Musician." No one's really sure what David's
doing here here in Norway. His record company publicist
professed complete ignorance, and when I asked Hope, she
shruggled and replied, "Ask him." Which I
proceeded to do, but was rewareded with an elleptical
reply along the lines of, "Travelling." Well, I
could see that, Beatnik Boy.
In general, David proved a far more difficult nut to
crack then had Hope. He was unfailingly polite, and made
an earnest attempt to answer my fruity rock writer
questions, but his answers tended to be not only exactly
the same as hope, but unrevealing in the extreme - along
the lines of "There are no rules in music. It's just
what sounds good to you," which I'm sure opens up
worlds of meaning in some alternate universe where rock
cliches have before been uttered or written, but it
didn't do a hell of a lot for me. In another, less
accomplished musician, such retience and apparant lack of
of insight might be suspect; but Roback has earned the
right to keep his trap shut. Beginning with his early
80's work in Rain Parade, a seminal band among the
"Paisly Underground" (a short-lived flowering
of LA-based psychedelica), through the proto-Mazzy
psuch-natterings of Clay Allison and the enormously
well-regarded (if commercial obscure) Opal, David's track
record basically defines the hoary term "artistic
integrity."
When the very 30-something guitarist (there's no hair
under that beret, is what I'm thinking) looks you in the
eye and says that, "We're just doing what we-ve
always done," that "always" contains a lot
more history than your typical out-of-nowhere MTV
wunderkind. But if you happen to be unaware of his
honorable rock record, he's not well inclinded to
disabuse you. So, really, it was probably just the jet
lag. I opened up by expressing surprise at Hope's lack of
retince, to which David replied simply, "You can't
believe everything you read." We discussed technical
matters concerning guitar sounds and amps and such that
can't possibly be of interest to any one reading this
now, which obviously is my fault again, and he confirmed
to me pretty much everything Hope had already said
concerning the process of writing the new album. The only
point of dispute seemed to be wheter the bell sounds he
used for the songs "Disapear" and
"Happy" were sampled (as Hope as informed me),
or "created" (David's word) and
"definitely not sampled." Like it matters.
Or the subject of record company involvement, David
envinced an even more fanatical desire to be left alone
than had his partner. "I'd rather just put stuff out
on a cheap cassette than let somebody else tell me how to
make my music," he averred. I'm thinking to myself,
"Why a cheap cassette particularly," but my
mind tended to wander badly throughout the course of our
chat. David insisted, "I don't really notice the
audience," when playing live, but affirmed overall
that the process of touring was an enjoyable one, because
"you get to present the songs in a different
environment." What do you talk about rock music?
David couldn't remember the last band he'd seen play
live, apart from the ones he's been on tour with.
His musical world seemed unremittingly insular, as
evidenced not only by his zealous guarding of any and all
personal facts by his seeming proud rejection not only of
the music industry but of most of the music itself. If
ever a man could be said to be self-sufficient, it would
be David Roback. Some of that self-sufficient spirit
inevitably translates into Mazzy Star's ambiguous and
affecting music. But appertenly the secret behind that
transmutative process will remain as tightly wrapped as
the man who writes the music keeps himself. An enigma
wrapped in a puzzle on a bed of lettuce, or something.
Obviously I was a little more than tired by this point. I
said good-bye to David and caught a cab back to the
airport hotel, where I crawled into bed to await my
wakeup call so I could get back in another metal tube and
be flung across the ocean. But the joke was, I couldn't
get to sleep. The God of Jetlag, or that crazy Norse God
Loki, would not let me shut my eyes. I put my tape of the
new Mazzy Star record in my Walkman and turned the volume
way down, hoping to be lulled asleep by the gentle
strains of the music. It didn't work: I just got more
disturbed, and lay there in an agitated clump. Which is
probably just the kind of reaction those two were looking
for.
|
| |
Scene Magazine
Mazzy
Star's Magical,
Mystical Tour
by Steven Batten
Listening to Mazzy Star's latest is perhaps best
experienced snuggled in front of a hot, cozy fire on a
cold, dreary winter evening. Or perhaps nestled alongside
a lazy, babbling brook at the edge of a golden, grassy
field.
The serene, tranquil soundscapes that characterize the
duo's third effort, Among My Swan, are likely to be the
perfect complement in either case. David Roback's
mystical, almost hypnotic melodies and Hope Sandoval's
mesmerizing, meandering vocals attempt to transcend both
time and place, with considerable success. In fact, with Among
My Swan, the duo is now more fully realizing a sonic
journey that began with its 1990 debut, She Hangs
Brightly, and its promising 1993 follow-up, So
Tonight That I Might See.
It's somehow fitting that Roback should be calling
from Copenhagen, the seaport capital of Denmark, where
the days are growing shorter and the nights colder.
Roback's pleasant, though reticent demeanor, seems
somehow well suited to his current climate, and as he
details his surroundings, you get the impression that it
could well be the mood of the new album to which he is
referring.
"It's just the beginning of Winter here," he
relates, "and the days are really getting shorter
the further north you go. The sun only comes out for a
few hours a day, so it's starting to get that dark,
winter vibe to it."
Perhaps Roback's fondness for such climates manifests
itself in the music he writes, but he isn't saying. It's
also likely that the duo, which splits time between foggy
London and the sunny coast of California, is equally
influenced by the subtly clashing cultures in which they
choose to reside.
"It definitely affects our lives," Roback
allows. "And music is so much a part of our lives
that it must affect it. But I couldn't say specifically
how."
The distant, mystical and mysterious vibe that
surrounds the band is a pleasant side effect of the duo's
unconscious decision to eschew the high-profile rock and
roll lifestyle for a more focused, meaningful existence.
"We've always sort of considered ourselves to be
an underground band," Roback explains, his distrust
for the whole rock and roll machine clearly evident.
"When we started playing music together, it had
absolutely nothing to do with popularity or the music
industry, and it's stayed that way. That's the reason why
we make music."
Perhaps despite themselves, Roback and Sandoval have
built a considerable following over the course of their
last two albums. "Fade Into You," the
beautifully intoxicating single from So Tonight,
paved the way for a larger audience as it took commercial
alternative radio and MTV by storm, essentially because
it stood in stark contrast to the regular rotation fare
at that time.
Likewise, the band's current single, "Flowers In
December," has taken root at radio. From his vantage
point, however, Roback hasn't really seen much of an
effect of platinum records and MTV on the band's loyal
following.
"You know, it's always been hard for me to really
tell who our audience is," he says. "When we
play clubs, it all becomes a big blur in my mind and I
can't really say exactly who's in the audience."
Roback is equally ambiguous regarding has songwriting
partnership with Sandoval (he writes the music, she the
lyrics and melodies), which has blossomed over the course
of their three releases.
"We write a lot of songs together," he says,
downplaying their collaborative formula. "I don't
really see it that way, as growing, or going backwards or
forwards or any particular direction, other than just
song by song. That's how Mazzy Star really works -- we
just work on a song by song basis. We have a song we
like, and we record it. So we don't really look at it as
a progression. We don't analyze it in that way at
all."
To wit, the particularly press-shy Roback and Sandoval
have shied away from elaborating on what the individual
songs mean to them, leaving the songs open to
interpretation by critics and fans. Roback says he
wouldn't be entirely surprised if fans interpreted
completely different meanings than their original
intentions.
"I don't often hear how people interpret our
music," he says, "but it wouldn't really
surprise me if people interpreted it in a very personal
way, because I think that that's the way that people
react to music. If you took a well known song and asked
10 people to write down what the lyrics are (about),
you'd find surprisingly different interpretations of what
the lyrics are because people hear what's in their own
imagination."
Therein, he says, lies the inherent beauty of the
songwriting process. "I think music is something
that's very available to all people, to get involved
with."
Roback is equally noncommittal regarding his
preference for touring versus the studio setting, though
he allows that the live setting offers certain facets
that the studio can't.
"There's an element of the unknown every time you
go to a different city and a different environment to
play," he says. "Plus you're really projecting
your sound into a much larger space. That's kind of
interesting to sort of see what happens with the element
of chance involved."
Given the low key, often serene nature of the band's
performances (they'll play at the Odeon this Friday,
December 6, with special guest Sparklehorse), it's often
difficult to discern whether Roback and Sandoval are
enjoying themselves, a question Roback dodges with
trademark reluctance.
"Sometimes we enjoy it," he says, countering
quickly, "It really depends on the concert. Some
concerts are more interesting than others."
With the band's fan base growing rapidly, it's likely
that their forthcoming Cleveland date will be the first
time that many in the audience have experienced Mazzy
Star live. What does Roback think they can expect?
"I think you would pretty much just expect to
hear our music," he offers cooperatively,
maintaining his elusive demeanor. "I think whenever
you hear music live, not only are the musicians playing
it differently, but you're also responding to it
differently, because you're listening to it in a
different context than if you were listening to it at
home or in your car, listening to a record. So the
context really is changed for both the musician and the
listener."
Onstage, Mazzy Star are flushed out with the addition
of musicians Will Cooper (strings), Keith Mitchell
(drums) and former Hole member Jill Emery (bass). The
focus of the current tour's set, Roback says, is on the
new album, though he maintains that they don't pin
themselves down to any standard set list. Somehow, that's
just not surprising.
"Our show really changes day to day, depending on
what we're in the mood to play," Roback relates.
"We don't really have any one group of songs that we
play, but we've been incorporating some of the new songs.
We've been thinking a lot about how these new songs sound
live, so that's one of the things we're into now."
|
| |
Addicted to Noise Dec 11,
96
Mazzy
Star's Big Mistake
No, Mazzy Star didn't write "Hair and Skin."
Addicted To Noise staff writer Gil Kaufman reports: The
b-side of the latest UK Mazzy Star single sounded awfully
familiar to former Green on Red front man Dan Stuart.
As Stuart tells it, he'd heard that Mazzy Star might
record the song, "Hair and Skin," about six
months ago. But recently, when he started getting calls
about it again, he went down to the local record store he
frequents in Tucson and picked up the single. "It's
a song that's on our first real record, Down There
," Stuart told Addicted To Noise, sounding more
amused than pissed off. "To be quite honest, I
couldn't even remember how the damn thing went."
Stuart says he bought the import (the a-side is
""Flowers in December"), then asked the
clerk to slap the song on, just to be certain. Sure
enough, Stuart not only recognized the song, but was
surprised to see that the songwriting credit tagged it as
a Mazzy Star composition.
"I was just amazed that anybody could figure out how
to play it since I can't even remember where my fingers
are supposed to go," laughed Stuart, who said he was
aware that Mazzy Star has frequently covered the song in
their live shows.
As it turns out, like Stuart told us, there's no
"grassy knoll." According to a source at
Capitol Records, the company Mazzy Star record for, the
mis-credited tune was a "big oversight, a big
mistake that they (Capitol's English counterparts) are
very embarrassed about."
The folks at Capitol confirmed that the song in question
is in fact a Green on Red song that was mistakenly
credited to Mazzy Star and that the oversight will be
changed on future runs of the single. Our Capitol source
also told us that a letter of apology has been sent to
Bug Music [the company that handles Stuart's publishing]
and that, effective immediately, Stuart will get proper
compensation.
Stuart says he's received word of the apology and joked,
"If they really want to make it up to me, they could
pick some other song I wrote 20 years ago and make it the
single instead of the b-side."
Stuart added that he wouldn't mind if some of Nick Lowe's
luck rubbed off on him. "Somebody put '(What's So
Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding,' on The
Bodyguard soundtrack and Lowe got a check for [something
like] $3 million. I guess miracles do happen."
|
| |
FrontEra
Magazine 2.1 (May 96)
Looking for Hope
Mazzy Star's
inscrutable muse,
Hope Sandoval, fades into the limelight
by Mark Torres and E.V. Aniles
Esperanza?
She hangs brightly over our curious minds. Trying to get
to the bottom of Hope Sandoval, singer and songwriter for
the band Mazzy Star, is like listening to one of her
songs: It's slow and painful.
We know she's from East L.A. We know she spends some of
her days in her new home in Berkeley, with her guitarist
(and ex-boyfriend) Dave Roback, and the rest of her days
in London with her current boyfriend, the Jesus and Mary
Chain's William Reid. We know that her songs are dreamy,
mournful and dispassionate. We know she stands stiff as a
statue on stage, only occasionally lifting her twig-thin
arms to play a harmonica or execute a graceful turn on
her way off stage. And little more.
As the other half of Mazzy Star, Roback can pull more
soul out of his acoustic guitar and steel pedal than
you'd find on an entire Lollapalooza Tour. In a musical
climate where beat and volume rule, Mazzy Star
unapologetically blends traditional folk, blues, and
psychedelic church. While it remains impossible to
understand Mazzy Star without mentioning
psychedelia-inspired groups like The Paisley Underground,
The Dream Syndicate, The Rain Parade and Opal, it is Hope
Sandoval alone who places Mazzy Star on its perch above
other modern bands.
Sandoval's position as rock's melancholy muse came to her
serendipitously in the late '80s. She was minding her own
business, hanging out in L.A. and working with her friend
Sylvia Gomez in a folksy band called Going Home. Dave
Roback, guitarist and songwriter for Opal, saw Going Home
and liked them enough to produce a record with them.
Sandoval and Roback became friends. Then, while Roback
and Opal singer Kendra Smith were touring, Smith decided
to make a getaway. Hope joined Roback mid-tour and has
been the voice of Mazzy Star since.
The transition from being a local artist to touring the
world, selling out shows and performing live on national
television was not easy for Sandoval. "For me
recording is better," she told Rolling Stone.
"Live, I just get really nervous. Once you're
on-stage, you're expected to perform. I don't do that. I
always feel awkward about just standing there and not
speaking to the audience."
When you listen to her music and see her perform, you get
a sense that she's too fragile for this world. She's like
a person who grew up in a happy place with lots of
family, warmth and love, but was ripped away from all
that and thrown into a harsh world. A flower in a
stainless-steel garden. Maybe that's why she offers so
little of herself at every sold out concert. "I feel
obligated to sing well, and that's it," Sandoval
said during an interview with Ray Gun. She's
philosophical about her unwillingness to give of herself
publicly. "I sense (a desire for audience
interaction) from them, yeah, and that's what makes it
uncomfortable. I mean, it's not so bad now; most people
who come to the shows realize it's not going to happen,
and they accept it, but in the beginning ... people would
demand it. Like, they demand a show."
If you want to
understand Hope or find out what inspires her to write
music, you won't have any luck with a direct approach.
She's not an open or obvious person, and neither is her
music. She's shy. She's private. She's genuine. She's an
enigma -- not by choice, but by nature. And at the same
time, her music is very personal. When you listen to her
music, you get the feeling she's reading from her diary,
with all the names deleted, of course.
On Mazzy Star's third, and newest, album, Among My Swan,
Sandoval's haunting lyrics speak of lost love, love that
never happened, love that could have been, but with just
enough disinterest it almost seems to be about someone
else. Listening to songs like "Disappear,"
"Cry, Cry," "Take
Everything,""Still Cold," "I've Been
Let Down" and "Rose Blood" is as close to
knowing her as you're ever going to get. "Cry, cry
for you/Just like you knew I wouldn't do," she
croons.
You'll never get an answer one way or the other about
what the songs mean to her. "I think people sort of
project their own feelings into the lyrics to coincide
with what's going on their lives," she says, not
making any judgments about the fact. She goes on to say
about the level of personalization in her songs: "I
think most people, probably everybody who writes lyrics,
they are talking about themselves, even if they attempt
to sort of talk about their friend, it is themselves,
it's their feelings, it's their opinion of the situation.
So I think most people, if not everybody, is talking
about themselves who write lyrics."
While some critics have expressed disappointment that
Among My Swan explores no new territory musically,
Sandoval has said she isn't concerned with living up to
expectations now that the band has international fame.
"Things are basically the same," she told
Rolling Stone when the album first came out. "We're
just sticking to our ways. Writing the way we've always
done it. There's really no need to change."
The band's first two albums, 1990's She Hangs
Brightly and 1993's So Tonight That I Might See,
placed Mazzy Star firmly in the alternative rock star
firmament. With the heavy MTV rotation of their video,
"Fade Into You," Sandoval's angelic Chicana
features became familiar to teens and college kids
nationwide. The hitch is, the fact that she's
Mexican-American is little known outside of East L.A.,
where everyone has a story about how they used to go to
school with her, or with one of her siblings or cousins.
In that sense, though we'd like to claim her, just
knowing she's out there is enough.
So maybe it's when she seems to be saying the least that
she's actually saying the most:
"You just keep playing and singing music, and it's
just sort of whatever happens, happens."
|
Thanks,
Jennifer.
|
Rolling Stone’s ALT-ROCK-A-RAMA
By Scott Schinder and the Editors of Rolling Stone
Mazzy Star. Change of pace for me. Their songs are
beautiful, as are Hope Sandoval’s vocals. When I
hear this music, I can feel good or cry, depending on my
mood.
©1996 Rolling Stone Press
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| |
See Also:
Concert News & Reviews Writeups
on various Mazzy concert gigs.
Album Reviews About 20
different reviews of Among My Swan and I rank
them, so you don't have to waste your time on the bad
ones.
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