Marble Valley Stops Goofing Around On "Yams"

By: Raymond Cummings

Sunday August 13, 2006

Marble Valley are starting to become a band worth taking seriously, worth trainspotting for, worth interviewing.
Photos By Mei Lewis

No Marble Valley interviews properly exist. Don't believe me? Google it. And with all due respect to journalists/writers//sycophants who chatted up ex-Pavement drummer Steve "Westy" West about his solo project in an analog style anytime during the past decades, well, fanzines and print-only examples don't really count in 2006; if it isn't available at the double-click of a mouse, then it didn't happen. Static, with the help of Indikator Records head Jules Hagemann, was able to engage Westy via e-mail about his band's new album and why, exactly, it took six years for it to arrive. Wild Yams finds the band continuing to cruise in easy-going goof-off, party-on gear but integrates krautrock and melancholy into their mix for the first time. They're starting to become a band worth taking seriously, worth trainspotting for, worth interviewing.

What have you been up to these last couple years? There's a six-year gap between Sunset Sprinkler and your new record, Wild Yams; I was beginning to think that you were done with music.

Steve West: I gave birth to two children with the assistance of my loving wife. Learned a trade as a stone mason, and now I professionally beat on rocks as well as drums.

"I Could Drink An Ocean" - the domestic discord song - strikes me as possibly, scarily autobiographical. Is it?

I haven't had a mid-life crisis yet. I thought that if I sang about one, I would cut mine off at the pass.

It appears that you've had a few line-up changes since the previous pair of albums. Who are the new members, and how did you meet them? I know Remko was Pavement's soundman.

The band (on Wild Yams) is comprised of Remko and I plus a group of ruffians we met in Hull, England. They are a little gay on stage but so are Remko and I. Actually, we are just six guys that enjoy playing rock music together. They all have their own bands: Salako, Baby Mamouth, Momma Gravy, and Misses Beazly.

"Computer Man" leads me to believe you might be something of a Kraftwerk fan. It's a fun, funny song with a sorta 1983 "let us embrace the new technological age" mindset.

"Computer Man" is the child of Remko and I; we wrote it while on a camping trip in the Rockies. P.S.: we love Kraftwerk.

Are you ever recognized in public or visited at home by obsessed Pavement fanatics?

No. But aliens appear on my property and want to sample my brain. They say: "You, good 1990s pop specimen, must have sample." No, but seriously I get recognized about once or twice a year.

I notice that on Wild Yams you're credited as singer and songwriter only. Why is this?

Though I did play a lot of instruments on Yams, I prefer to be listed as the guy who will get L.D.S., aka "Lead Singer Disease." I want to take full responsibility for my vocal actions.

Are you guys planning to tour this year?

We just played four gigs with the Silver Jews this past month. No-one died or was arrested; I am happy. We will get together in Amsterdam to record later this year. One thing is for sure: we will have a blast recording together in a proper studio for the first time.

What's the Marble Valley songwriting process like?

In my recording studio, I try to keep my mind open to whatever works. I have built songs out of phrases, samples, and riffs as well as drum beats. Anything goes.

Who are some of your biggest musical influences?

I love Echo and the Bunnymen; they have held up over time. So have Stereolab.

Do you miss drumming? Do you still play now and then?

Yes, but I play for people when they need drums in my studio.

Your rose-colored glasses are rock-star fabulous. When did you start wearing them, and why?

I have been blind all my life; the glasses are a diversion. I tried contacts but that was a no-go. I use my glasses as a forcefield against the outer world.

Do you keep in touch with the other members of Pavement? What's everyone up to?

Once a year, they all come over to my home in the country and pull weeds in my garden. They are sweet, sensitive men that are pursuing life beyond 1990s rock stardom.