by Rob van Alstyne
At just 37, Mike Viola has already been through enough bad breaks to last three lifetimes. First came a short-lived shot at teen stardom (Viola cut a record with notorious pop-music Svengali Kim Fowley at 14 that ended up being shelved), next he spent the ’80s on the verge of big things with his band Snap! without even a record deal to show for it by the time the band imploded. And then, when things finally began looking up for his music career in the ’90s, he lost his first wife to cancer. If there was a pop musician version of “The Survivor” television program there’s little doubt where Viola would finish in the standings.
A true craftsmen (Viola was the note perfect songwriter and
raspy voice behind the title track of Tom Hanks’ ’60s nostalgia
pop-music film “That Thing You Do” ), Viola’s third album
with his revolving backing band the Candy Butchers, Hang On Mike, uses
his well-worn melodic skills to tackle the thorniest of possible subjects: his
own past. Moving away from the angry-young-man-pop-rock swagger of earlier releases
like the biting Elvis Costello-ish Falling Into Place, Viola strips things
down for the unflinchingly autobiographical Hang On Mike. The dozen tunes
are mostly lush soft-rock compositions, the sort of piano-driven ’70s
songwriter fare that couldn’t be less hip—or more shamelessly fun
to listen to.
“The
songs warranted more space, just less distortion and less aggression,”
explains Viola via telephone about the revamped sound of his latest recording.
“I was a little wary of sounding so ’70s singer-songwriter, so kind
of peaceful and easy, but as is usually the case with my songs, the words tell
a different story than what the music is doing.”
Viola speaks the truth; one would be hard pressed to find lyrics
that paint a more self-deprecating portrait than “He was still living
alone / Hugging the bar and masturbating / Never answered his phone,”
a couplet that casually slides into the otherwise sunny tale of new love, “What
to Do With Michael.” Elsewhere, “Sparkle!” is a campy orchestral
pop number (replete with a disco beat and nifty harpsichord intro) about being
institutionalized for a mental breakdown. Viola is matter-of-fact in discussing
the inspiration for the songs on his record (an album so strictly autobiographical
that it frequently name-checks acquaintances and family members directly). “The
point of this record for me was really looking back and thinking, ‘OK,
this isn’t a perfect world, but it’s my world,’” claims
Viola. “This is the shit that I’ve decided to do and this is the
bones I’ve left behind me.”
Hang On Mike bristles with the kind of energy that only
manifests itself when a musician throws away the rulebook and abandons any preconceived
notions about their art. During the course of the album he contemplates fatherhood
(“Let’s Have a Baby”), examines nagging artistic self-doubt
(“Unexpected Traffic”) and generally attempts to psyche himself
up and brace for the inevitable further trials that lay ahead (“Hunker
Down”)—not exactly your typical pop song topics. “When you’re
playing rock music you’re always trying to make something kick ass,”
explains Vilola. “You’re trying to make it as confrontational and
provocative as you can—it’s almost like that Spinal Tap thing of,
‘we make our amps go to 11.’ When you’re in a band you just
tend to play louder and harder and try to make things scary. For me I felt like
just making the lyrics more honest and stripping away all the distortion was
my version of going to 11. Because there isn’t anything past ten.”
Hang On Mike’s volume knob may be dialed in around
three, but the album certainly doesn’t lack for intensity. Rarely does
one find an artist so willing to expose themselves to an audience without a
trace of artifice. A cathartic and poignant album, Hang On Mike was a
therapeutic exercise for its creator. “I basically had a series of breakdowns
over the last year and was really unhinged,” says Viola somewhat sheepishly.
“I’m on the other side of that now, but making this album was a
huge part of moving forward. Walk through any museum or listen to any good new
records and what you see or hear are people working through their problems through
their art. That’s what connects you to art, it has nothing to do with
form, it’s all about content.”
Refreshed, and with his personal demons worked out on record
for all to see, Viola seems poised to soldier on as one of the finest (and last)
purveyors of pure and melodic rock ’n’ roll … not that he’s
completely problem-free or anything. “The hardest thing to deal with is
when you go home and have to visit with family, and everybody else’s life
is sort of moving along,” explains Viola as our conversation winds to
a close. “Everyone’s having success and getting new cars and you’re
rolling up in a beat up 1984 Cutlass Sierra and still doing the music thing.
I’m sort of stuck in the scrappy bastard role, but that’s cool,
because I’m happy. I feel connected to my experience with music and that’s
enough.”
Mike Viola plays on Fri., April 30, at the Triple Rock
Social Club. With Jake Brennan and headliners the Figgs. 9 p.m. $7. 21+. 629
Cedar Ave. S., Mpls. 612-333-7399.
You can find out more about Mike Viola and
the Candy Butchers on their official website.
Click here to download an mp3 of the Candybutchers’ song Hang On Mike.
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