Pete Krebs- COVERSTORY: Fly-Rite Boy

first appeared in The Rocket, 3/24/99
by Corey DuBrowa


It's a bitterly cold December night, and a cutting wind slices through the air as a knit-hatted, bespectacled Pete Krebs strides quickly downstairs to the basement of Portland's Rabbit Hole Lounge to set up for his weekly solo residency.

Krebs has had a spot of car trouble this evening. "Speed's towing isn't actually very speedy," he points out. While that might produce an annoyed impatience in even the most easygoing of souls, the preternaturally calm Krebs lets it all drop off like the chill. He mumbles a few quick words of apology for his tardiness before sliding into a booth to sip down a few beers and chat about his latest project, Gossamer Wings, and the pending release of his recently completed Cavity Search recording, Sweet Ona Rose.

Krebs first flashed on the Northwest radar back in the early '90s as the frontman for Portland's punk-pop stalwarts Hazel; the group's infectious melodies and sheer driving force (courtesy of powerhouse drummer Jody Bleyle, who later ended up in the critically adored Team Dresch) caught the ear and attention of many indie music fans back during the band's heyday. Hazel, who released two albums for Sub Pop, Toreador of Love and Are You Going to Eat That, also happened to be the only act in town with a member, "Fred," whose sole job description read "spasmodically joyous dancing and writhing in time with whatever music is emanating from the stage." During that time, Krebs also gained a fair amount of local and national notoriety via a press-fueled feud with Everclear frontman Art Alexakis, a topic Krebs is thoroughly tired of by now. "It just needs to go away," he says.

After Hazel called it a day, Krebs released a split single with long-time friend and musical partner-in-crime Elliott Smith before reprising his contribution to that 7-inch, "Shytown," for his debut solo album, Brigadier. Krebs then turned his attention to the lonesome West, joining up with local guerrilla hillbilly outfit Golden Delicious for a series of fantastic records that culminated with the band's 1998 split CD with Krebs on Portland-based indie Cavity Search. Not only spotlighting his interests at hand, the album also hinted toward an ensuing departure for Krebs.

"You have to have a clear conscience about what you're doing musically. It's something that has tripped us all up at some point in time-musicians, in particular, know when they're compromising themselves. But I'd like to think that I'm a little clearer these days," Krebs begins by way of explanation, referring to the tumultuous changes of 1998 that led to the demise of Golden Delicious and the formation of his more rock-conscious project Gossamer Wings. This single-minded pursuit of a vision-of music that feels true to his sense of purpose-is a theme that will surface over and over again as I get to know Krebs better in the coming months.

When I mention to him the disappointment and surprise that many fans have expressed in the wake of Golden Delicious' dissolution, Krebs attempts to put it into a personal context. "I can't really speak for Kevin [Richey, fellow Golden Delicious cohort and leader of Portland's Bingo], but towards the end of playing with Golden Delicious, it became apparent to me that this wasn't what I wanted to be doing any more," he says. "I generally think it's a good idea to leave things on an 'up' note."

Interestingly enough, former Golden Delicious fiddler Marilee Hord is sitting at the bar this evening. After spotting her there, Krebs excuses himself and walks over to Hord, and gives her a warm embrace, which would seem to lay to rest any doubts about whether or not the group's breakup was amicable.

"Golden Delicious were drawing bigger and bigger crowds, the showswere getting better and better musically, but I just wasn't feeling it any more," explains Krebs. "My initial desire with Golden Delicious was to play Appalachian 'string-band' music with more of a punk rock approach-kind of like what the Pogues did with traditional Irish music, the same idea. Towards the end it strayed from that into an area..." Krebs drifts off into a thoughtful pause. "Well, that I just wasn't comfortable with. I'm not trying to be vague, but it was time to get off the train and try something else."

It's Only Rock 'n' Roll (But I Like It)

That "something else" has come in the form of Krebs' return to a more varied brand of roots rock with Gossamer Wings. The band's debut at last year's North by Northwest conference sounded to many ears like a shotgun marriage between his punk-pop past and his more recent excursions into the country zip code, a turn of events which some have interpreted as a retreat from the more purist bluegrass leanings of his work with Golden Delicious. Indeed, I reach across the booth and hand Krebs a recent edition of No Depression, in which writer David Menconi characterizes Krebs' tenure in Golden Delicious as "a detour...[Having] first gained notice as a member of indie-rock band Hazel, [he] now appears headed back to similarly rock-oriented territory." Krebs' take, however, isn't nearly as black and white.

"My listening and musical interests have always been eclectic," replies Krebs. "There's very little in the way of music that I don't listen to. I like to write pop songs, country & western songs, quiet songs. And now I'm freed up to write whatever I want, in any genre, without the trappings of trying to 'cop a style.'

"I'm always a little put off when something becomes so much of a scene that it doesn't breathe anymore," he continues. "I really dig music that hearkens back to older styles like [those that Golden Delicious played]: 'old time,' bluegrass, Bakersfield country-I love all of that stuff. It was really fun to play it for a while, and I'm not dissing anyone who still does. But I don't want to be associated with any particular movement; I don't want to be in the 'alternative country' section of life. If there's any category I play, it's rock 'n' roll-somebody who writes songs and plays rock in a bunch of different languages."

So, to ask the obvious: Is this a recent change of heart, musically, or had these songs been following Pete around like a hell-hound, just waiting for the right opportunity to appear? "They had actually been finished for a while before we went into the studio: I had 'em all written, showed [the musicians] the chords, and said, 'Go crazy.' And the people I chose to play with on the record, each of them brought some really unique voices and ideas to the table. It's just incredibly cool to be able to pick whoever you want to play with, something I've never been able to do before. I mean, I could have done that with my other records, but I just wasn't to that point in my thinking yet."

The resulting product, Sweet Ona Rose, was recorded at Jackpot! studios over the course of two rapid flurries of activity-an initial week of intensive recording followed up by another session a few months later which produced three additional tracks. "I was listening to the original tape and felt that there was something missing, so I wrote three more songs and added them to the final mix. 'Patiently' (the album's closer) really balances [the record] better," says Krebs. "Most of it was written really quickly, but there were a few songs I had been toying around with for a long time. 'Analog,' for example. I tried to get Elliott [Smith] to play with me on it. In fact, there's a recording of us playing that one, somewhere."

There are actually many strange parallels between Smith's musical career and Krebs'. Aside from the occasional collaboration, both began with guitar-driven rock ensembles-Krebs with Hazel, Smith with Heatmiser-who got by more on the strength of forceful groove than finely tuned songwriting. Each artist ultimately recorded solo material that reflected a sweeter, more contemplative side that allowed for a broader range of expression than their group work could provide. The fact that the two have chosen to strike out on their own isn't coincidental. "I doubt [that I'll return to a group]," Krebs says, affirming a need for artistic independence. "Not in a serious sense. It's a lot more fun to play with friends, different kinds of people. I like being a songwriter. It's what I've decided to do."

His old friend Smith's presence notwithstanding, Krebs' backing band for Sweet Ona Rose is a veritable who's who of the Northwest music scene. Among the contributors to the Gossamer Wings project are ex-Soundgarden bassist Ben Shepherd, the Maroons' John Moen, Richmond Fontaine's Paul Brainard on pedal steel and trumpet, and Portland rock veteran Billy Kennedy, whose tastefully applied guitar licks give the album its four-dimensional depth. It isn't lost on Krebs that this album's lineup is far from the most obvious combination of musicians-a point of pride that he makes sure to call to my attention. "I've always been into that kind of [musical] diversity," Krebs continues. "[I like] mixing people from different age groups and backgrounds. In Hazel, we had Fred the dancer, who was in his 40s. It's not exactly earth-shattering to have an older guy in your band, you know? But you don't see it too often. [Fred] used to get attacked by security personnel in clubs as some kind of homeless guy, going after the band, which is beautiful, you know? To push those kinds of buttons is exactly what [we wanted to do]."

An Orchestra of Gossamer Wings

While Gossamer Wings' lineup may have sparked the most discussion among local trainspotters, what's truly noteworthy about the band is its maturity and the sheer bountiful richness of its new material. Krebs' songwriting seems to have taken a quantum leap forward on the new album, a notion with which he concurs. "Yeah, something definitely seemed to happen this time around, maybe because it was so freeing to leave Golden Delicious. I tried to treat songs as moments in time, let them stand on their own as concise incidents or stories. Whereas before, I was more wide-reaching in my description, trying to evoke a general mood. I'm into snapshots now, tempered with a kind of humanity." Krebs' description of his songwriting process resembles nothing less than an exercise in channeling: "I really see myself as more of a conduit than anything else. You can't sit down and say, 'I think I'm gonna write a song now.' You can only settle into a groove and hope to catch the ideas as they come along."

Among these aural photographs are some of the strongest songs of Krebs' career, the highlights of which are provided through the Costello-like propulsion of "Analog" and "Hey Mr. Smalltown." Sweet Ona Rose, true to Krebs' previous solo work, derives much of its lyrical power from a poignant depiction of movement and restlessness, charting the course of the ever-drifting itinerant soul. It features what has, by now, become a Krebs standard item: the twilight road journal (this album's version is entitled "Thunderstorms and Alcohol"). But at the same time it sees Krebs pushing his music a little further away from easily identified categories. "Take Me Away" unconsciously borrows the melody line from Neil Young's "Harvest" without setting off any alarm bells, while the wistful "Patiently" perfectly realizes the promise Krebs demonstrated on earlier efforts, 1995's Brigadier and 1997's Western Electric. Both were fine albums, but weren't as fully formed as the genre-hopping mastery Krebs brings to bear on Sweet Ona Rose. There are also two tracks, "Ashes Back to Vegas" and "Dressed to the Nines," that first appeared on Krebs' split CD with Golden Delicious and that have since been re-recorded with the new band, infusing them with a fresh spirit and additional splashes of color. "With 'Ashes,' I really wanted to go for a Gram Parsons approach, but with more of a respectful 'tip of the hat' versus trying to play within a genre. I even asked Little Sue [Weaver] to do the Emmylou [Harris] backing vocal on the track," he laughs.

Before we wrap up our conversation, I ask Krebs to comment on his place in the current Portland music scene, a community he has seen explode to national prominence recently after nearly a decade's worth of his grassroots involvement. "If you look at people who have become successful from Portland, they're not your average 'rock 'n' roll stars.' The Dandy Warhols have their own weird take on music. Elliott is a completely individual songwriter; I've never heard anything at all like him, anywhere. Sleater-Kinney-a great live band-they exemplify everything that's great about the Northwest. The same goes for Quasi.

"Portland has always been the kind of place that gives you the time and space to nurture your weirdness, and I guess it's true-we do seem to make our decisions at a slower pace. I mean, you can still ride your bike around town, for Chrissakes," he adds.

With that, Krebs walks off toward the stage, adding that "it's time to go to work." But I'm left with the lingering sense that, for Krebs, this isn't really work at all, a feeling that sticks to my ribs like molasses until we connect again.

A Third Second Chance

It's now three months down the road-one of the first sunny days of a spring which seemed like it would never arrive-and I'm sitting in the waiting area of the downtown tattoo studio where Pete Krebs spends his days, applying the various inks and designs of his trade to a variety of eager recipients. His musical endeavors aside, Krebs is a state-licensed, custom tattoo artist. "Maybe we could do the interview while I give you one. That would be a first, don't you think?" he laughs. On the wall of the studio is a poster with the artwork for the long-awaited, several-months-delayed Sweet Ona Rose (finally in stores April 6) that further reflects this sideline. The guitar shown in the photo is resplendent with an intricate, tattoo-like ornamentation courtesy of one of his partners in the shop. I pick through a collection of CDs on a shelf (Gram Parsons' Grievous Angel, Geraldine Fibbers, Nina Simone, a trance compilation) while waiting for Krebs to get ready, and for the puzzle pieces to fall into place.

Krebs and I retreat to an old haunt of his-the LaurelThirst Pub-to catch up on the changes to the Gossamer Wings project since last we talked. One thing that has become clear as I've listened to Rose over the past several months is how Krebs is finally peeling back some of the layers, letting us see a little more of who he really is through his songwriting. But how this connects to his fiercely protected independence doesn't become apparent until later in our conversation.

Krebs reveals some of the details of his life over a round of beers: He was born and raised in California, first in the barren dirt road and asparagus field moonscape of Tustin, and later in the Steinbeck country of Monterey county; he attended military school in Pennsylvania after getting kicked out of high school; continued at college in Oregon (Oregon State); and underwent a life-changing experience at the relatively young age of 21.

"I was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer, Hodgkin's Disease," he says. "And I began coming up to Portland for various tests, surgeries. I finally ended up moving to Portland because I had to go through radiation therapy at St. Vincent's Hospital. I don't really think about it much any more, but that experience changed my life around. I realized that I could die, and while that sounds horrible, it was actually the best thing that ever happened to me. [Once I recovered], it was the thing that told me: 'Drop out of college, move to Portland, and play music.' That's what I've done ever since; [music] is the one thing I've responded to since I was really little. I'm totally cured now, but it took going through something that intense to break me out of my fear of doing this [for a living].

"I've never had a lot of confidence in my ability to make music, and as a result, I've had to overcompensate by being really enthusiastic. I still feel like I don't know how to [write songs] very well yet, but I'm starting to catch on, to get a better feeling for how to grab an idea and hang on for dear life."

This self-effacing tendency pops up again in discussing the framework for the new record. Prior to Sweet Ona Rose, "I had tried to play most or all of the instruments on my solo records, and then stumbled upon the brilliant idea of having people who actually knew how to play some of those instruments play them instead of me," Krebs continues, neatly prefiguring my question about the future of the Gossamer Wings project. "But the project has gone through quite a few changes since it first started. Over the past six months since we recorded the album, I've managed to have [a] revolving lineup of about 10 different musicians... It evolved into, 'I'll have a revolving lineup, and no-one will ever know who I'm playing with.' Much to the chagrin of the musicians involved, though: I would be phoning them a week before a rock gig saying, 'Hey, can you do this?' It wasn't as cute after a while," Krebs concludes. "So I've settled on a lineup that will operate for now." That lineup features Kennedy, drummer Arik Ohlson of Moxie Love Crux, bassist Charlie Bradshaw and guitarist Jason Okamoto of the Flatirons.

"There's gonna be a short tour at the end of May," he continues. "Steve Wynn (ex-Dream Syndicate) got ahold of my record and says he really likes it, wants us to do a little touring with him. So for the first time in a long time, I've got a record I like and musicians I love to play with. I'm looking forward to getting out there and hitting it hard. I think I'm definitely on the right path now."

I find it a little ironic that Krebs' return to straightforward rock 'n' roll has produced music that shares the emotional directness of the best country music-that heartstring-tugging connection with the common man that gives C&W its powerful grip on the collective heart of its fans. On the way home from our interview I insert Sweet Ona Rose into my stereo and skip to "Patiently," the folk-inflected track that closes the album. "I don't want no one to help me/I broke it all on my own.../Sometimes you have to wait/So patiently/I've got a magic eight-ball/Somewhere inside the house here/It gives advice I think about too much/My sources say yes/My sources say no/My sources say I think too much/Sometimes you have to wait/So patiently." This song so perfectly captures Pete Krebs' philosophy and his muse that I'm at a bit of a loss to explain why it took me so long to figure it out. His near-brush with death seems to have empowered Krebs with not only the perspective of an older, wiser soul-one who can see life's little problems for the trivial pursuits they are-but also the ability to guilelessly "gut" his way along, using his intuition as an infallible guide to life and how to live it. Krebs does, indeed, appear to be headed down the right road, no matter how dusty or winding. Long may he run.

Tag: Pete Krebs and Gossamer Wings play Crystal Ballroom in Portland 3/25 and the Crocodile Cafe in Seattle 4/2.




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