Interview by P.C. JONES
Sloppy, fun, unpretentious rock and roll is the m.o. of Arizona's Weird Lovemakers and if'n you haven't heard their action-packed CD, Flu Shot (eMpTy Records) then you best rectify that situation, Chumpy. I caught up to the Lovemakers at Zeke's on Ashland in Chicago earlier this summer and the following interview is the fruit of that bittersweet encounter with the Tucson lads.
Hector Jaime: bass
Greg Petix: vocals, guitar
Gerard Schumacher: drums, vocals
Jason Willis: guitar vocals
RW: Describe your music in one word or less.
RW: Can I quote you on that?
Gerard: See that you do.
RW: Fantastic. That brings me to my next question, which is, what's a Weird Lovemaker? Is it someone who makes love in an odd fashion? Or is it perhaps a Lovemaker who's just a little out there. Our readers need to know if they are to flock to the record stores and demand your records.
Jason: We think that your readers should just fuck to the record stores of their own accord.
RW: But where's the love? Never mind. That reminds me of my next question, why music, why now?
Greg: We realized that there was a serious void in the music scene. There weren't enough bands consisting of four white guys playing rock music. The world can sleep easy now knowing that the Weird Lovemakers are on the job.
RW: I know I'll sleep better, but I've always slept pretty well. You have a song called "Gotta, Gotta Get Some." Did you get, get some yet?
Greg: Yeah, and now my balls hurt and my dick hurts and I hate sex.
RW: Well I had to ask. That sounds a wee bit painful, no pun intended, but seriously now, ya'll are from Tucson right? What's up in Tucson?" I've never been there although I do have a cactus.
Gerard: Walk to a parking lot and stand in the middle of it while shining a heat lamp on yourself. That's what Tucson is like. . . for the rest of your life.
RW: I could get used to that. Do you have any pets? Jason: I have three cats. Fuck dogs.
Greg: Fuck Gerard's cat Gerard: Yes, fuck my cat. . . please.
RW: Could you elaborate on that? I live with three cats and a cactus and sex with any of them is out of the question.
Gerard: Tell you what man, you can take that cactus of yours and shove it up my cat's ass until he sings "She'll Be Comin' Around the Mountain." Is that elaborate enough for you?
RW: Yes, actually that's plenty elaborate. Thank you. Next question, um, oh yeah, you guys played some shows with the Woodrows. How was that? We're always looking for Woodrow tidbits at this magazine.
Hector: Yeah, we played with The Woodrows a few times. They wouldn't stop flirting with our Australian drummer. You know their third album, Tits Out for the Lads?
RW: I'm familiar with it.
Hector: That record has several songs about their sad, yet sensual tryst, that cut their Asian tour short back in 95. Gerard still cries when he hears their stirring anthem, "Felching Matilda."
RW: I've wept during that song, definitely. Have you ever had anything you've said taken out of context for the sole purpose of making you seem foolish? Gerard: Absolutely not. No, never. We've never looked foolish ever. Except the time that Hector's song, "I Hate Women," was misconstrued by a journalist who thought it meant that Hector hated women.
RW: That's ridiculous. Did that make you angry?
Hector: Yeah, that dumb cunt didn't know what she was talking about.
RW: Angry enough to do what?
Hector: To throw myself into a world class snit.
RW: You have been very cooperative, I appreciate that. You're all very sweet.
Gerard: We know, thanks. Are you going to eat that Danish?
RW: Thank you for saying that.
Gerard: What are you talkin' about, I want your Danish. Are you even listening?
RW: No. So what are your day jobs when you're not touring.
Gerard: Goddamnit! I want that fucking Danish! Why are you avoiding this. We're really hungry
RW: I never would have guessed that by looking at you.
Greg: Well, we're old school hungry. We've been hungry since back in the day. You young kids these days don't know about hunger. I remember once, I was hungry back at the old Okie Dog in LA and Pleasant Geham leaned over with her awful breath and demanded my onion rings. Now Darby had just taken a bag of onion rings from me a week ago and I had to burn him right in the middle of his wrist with my cigarette to get them back and I hadn't eaten since that time so thee was no way I was goin' to give them up this week, but she was drunk and persisted. I finally relented and gave her one onion ring but as soon as she she it she got violently ill and threw up all over what was left in my bag. I didn't eat anything else until the Elk's Lodge Riot four months later. That's hunger pal.
RW: I got hungry just listening to that story. You know, meeting you guys in person, I can't help but notice that you are some pretty handsome fellas. Is that ever a problem on the road?
Jason: Are you coming on to us?
RW: Oh God no, it was just a question.
Gerard: Don't let your mouth write a check your sweet, tight ass can't cover.
RW: I think you're misconstruing the meaning of my lyrics here. Come on, let's clean this up a bit here. Greg: Sure, here's a washcloth. There's some on your thighs too. There you got it. Let's get on with the interview.
RW: Good idea. I feel kind of violated though I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything wrong. Do you guys have any unusual hobbies that our readers might be interested in?
Gerard: Hector is quite a jouster at the local Renaissance festival whilst Jason can't resist the lure of collecting antique barbed wire. I'm a Crimean War buff And Greg fucks pigs.
RW: Yeah, those are interesting hobbies. I don't know about that last one.
Greg: Well, the trick is to tuck their hind legs into your boots so they can't play hard to get.
RW: You're sure you're from Arizona right? Not Arkansas? Anyway, least question and it's a doozy. If you could have dinner with any famous person that has ever lived, from biblical times to the present, whether it be religious or historical figure or even rock'n'roll or movie start what would you order.
Jason: A Shirley Temple.
Greg: A Napoleon.
Gerard: Cherry Garcia ice cream.
RW: All righty then, closing comments?
Gerard: I have spoken about the war. I believed in it. I don't know whether I was crazy or not. Sometimes I think perhaps I was. I approved of it. I joined in the general cry of madness and despair. I urged men to fight. I was safe because I was too old to go. I was like the rest. What did they do? Right or wrong, justifiable or unjustifiable--which I need not discuss today—it changed the world. For four long years the civilized world was engaged in killing men. Christian against Christian, Barbarian uniting Christians to kill Christians, anything to kill. It was taught in every school—aye in the Sunday schools. The little children played at war, the toddling children on the street. Do you suppose this world has ever been the same since? How long will it take for the world to get back to the humane emotions that were slowly growing before the war? How long will it take the calloused hearts of men before the scars of hatred and cruelty shall be removed? I was reading last night of the aspirations of the old Persian poet Omar Khayam. It appealed to me as the highest that I can envision. I wish it was in my heart and I wish it was in the hearts of all. So I be writin' in the Book of Love: I do not care about that Book of Love/Erase my name or write it on the wall/So I be writin' in the Book of Love.
RW: Thank you Weird Lovemakers, that was beautiful. I wish you the best in all your future endeavors.
WL: Ahh go, to hell!
RW: Thank you, I will.