What’s Rolling Stone‘s angle here? Do they think we’re rock stars and suck or what? What do they want to know about us, just between me and you? I’ll tell you what I want to know, though. PIRNER: I think I can be held accountable for anything that I should say. You guys could stay up all night talking, but the on-the-record portion of the interview should be over at this point. PUBLICIST: I have a recommendation to make as a publicist. And they tried to create this whole society.” And what was the food left over from that? These fucking grape leaves wrapped around rice. And you kind of sit there, and you eat it, and you go, “All right, these motherfuckers, they ate this shit, and they made a bunch of motherfuckers drag fucking rocks up a hill to build some big old colossal thing. PIRNER: I mean, that shit doesn’t taste that good, but it tastes pretty good. I mean, what influence has that culture had on us as people now? Those wrapped-up leaves with rice in them … PIRNER: But look, Socrates was fucking Greek, man. Drummer Sterling Campbell sits on a chair to their right, leaning in closely. Pirner sits on a sofa, engaged in what seems to be a heated conversation with a reporter. Pirner has a few things on his mind –- things that may have something remotely to do with music -– and seems dead set on unloading them. I don’t know if it helped, but I know that it was good to worry about it.”Īs the hours tick by, the beer bucket empties, various Soul Asylum members come upstairs to bid Pirner good night, and the conversation grows more surreal. Being worried about is good in my opinion. “It was a pretty confusing experience when I was that age. “Dave and I sort of talk on the phone a little,” Springsteen says. Springsteen, a sometime late-night confidant of Pirner’s, knows the dilemma well. “I wouldn’t kill myself, because that’s been done already,” Pirner says. He’s thinking about how Kurt Cobain dealt with it, how Bruce Springsteen deals with it, how Dave Pirner is going to deal with it. You know? It might.”ĭrummer Sterling Campbell on His Years With David Bowie, Duran Duran, and Soul AsylumĪt the root of Pirner’s confusion is success. But at one point or another, they’re going to have to understand that if they miss the show this year, it might be the last show. I will take the band out there on the road and give it to the people with a certain sense of pride. Don’t you think I could do that? Here I am for the first time in my life with the fucking greatest band in the world, and I am going to disappear. I would like to have the coup of just having been in a great rock band that nobody cares about anymore. “And maybe this has never been done before, but I’d like to beat the system.
And I’m trying to talk myself into that.” I’m going to, what’s the word, introvert and go away. Faster and faster, the more pressure people put on me. He wipes a greasy blond dreadlock out of his face and continues: “I’m just going to disappear – really. “I’ve been fucked with just enough where I’m going to start to draw the line,” Pirner says in his distinct voice, half space cadet, half dorm-room philosopher. At the airport, security reprimanded him after a passenger on his flight from New York complained about Pirner’s foul language. It wouldn’t be the first time his chops were busted today, either. He’s only been in Texas for a half-hour, and the battle has already begun. It’s just after midnight, and the straggly looking 31-year-old with a baby face is standing in a hotel lounge in Austin, Texas, announcing his arrival. “Please bust my chops, because I’m in the mood to have my chops busted,” Dave Pirner says. With Let Your Dim Light Shine, Soul Asylum’s first album since the success of “Runaway Train,” they must prove that they are bigger, better and, ultimately, more important than “Runaway Train.” In other words, they must prove that the right kind of band can overcome the wrong kind of fame. After all, it’s not easy for a band brought up on a steady diet of punk to accept success without some embarrassment. They’re a little self-conscious, a little insecure, a little nervous. Today, Soul Asylum aren’t the same band they once were. Unlike Soul Asylum’s bad luck, their good fortune can be explained in two words: “Runaway Train,” their runaway hit. But the Minneapolis quartet persevered, and in 1993 its luck changed, almost too dramatically. Rock & roll has not always treated the band well in fact, it almost split the group up several times. In 14 years of music making, Soul Asylum have slowly contorted their lives to adapt to rock & roll’s unusual hours of touring and performing.
#SOUL ASYLUM HOP SPRINGS HOW TO#
To spend time with Soul Asylum is to learn how to sleep from 9 to 5, when the rest of the world is out punching buttons and lifting crates.
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