The station is launching a major effort to save this precious resource and preserve it for years to come with The Music Match: A Campaign to Save KCRW’s Library.
“What is the American Dream?” Nic repeats before spinning in his chair towards the hanging microphone, “Morning becomes eclectic, KCRW.” He spins back towards me.
“To own your own home?” His eyes behind awkward gold frames look up to the ceiling. “It’s not an accident that millions of people are trying to get in here illegally every year. It’s a place where people judge you on what you do, not where you come from.”
A new Nick Lowe song plays quietly in the background. Ariana Morgenstern, Nic’s producer, is sitting across from Nic. She laughs before chiming in, “George Carlin said, ‘The American dream. You have to be asleep to believe in it.’”
America’s a far away place from Birmingham, England where Nic spent his youth playing in bands and doing what many Birmingham kids do; dream of getting the hell out.
As it does with many Brits, Australia called and Nic packed the little he had and made off to Brisbane, where he spent 5 years until “it was time to leave,” he explains with a sinister smile.
An invitation to NY from an old Birmingham bandmate brought Nic to Woodstock, where he spent eight years as program director at WDST.
“I arrived for a visit, and kind of never left, which is apparently par for the course in Woodstock. People would ask me, “How long are you here for?” “Three months,” I’d answer. They’d look at me, “Na, you’re never leaving.”
Nic was doing fine, staying out of trouble, and introducing Woodstock to the most interesting music of the day, while discovering that the British accent goes quite a way in the States. And to make things clear, Nic’s accent is an amalgam of British and Australian. Five years in Australia can do that, as well as lay the cultural foundation for one’s transition to America.
“They’re really wasn’t any cultural struggles when I arrived to NY. Australia was a good transition. England directly to Australia was a huge transition, but Australia to America made more sense. Australia was a half way point culturally.”
In the strangest of ways, as it often does in America, opportunity called and Nic found himself 3,000 miles west of Woodstock, in sunny Los Angeles to join the highly-praised KCRW. Here, Nic hosts the internationally-acclaimed “Morning Becomes Eclectic,” a two hour cornucopia of progressive pop, jazz, African, reggae, world beat, Latin, and other genres-gems you probably won’t find on commercial radio. For the last nine years, Nic has been walking down the basement stairs to the studio at Santa Monica College and playing records for a living.
It all does sound like the American dream for a kid from Birmingham. For the adventurous international with a leg across the pond or the one seeking a little bit more than a provincial lifestyle, America does offer up a delectable dish of opportunity, in the strangest of ways, sometimes.
“The class system is so engrained over in England. Could I have done what I’ve done here back in England? The answer is probably not, unless I had all these qualifications and a proper CV. Here I walked into the station in Woodstock, told them I have all these records; I think I can do this. And they gave me a job. Again, my experience in the States has been that people judge me for what I do, whether they like it or hate it, not on where I come from.”
Nic’s tattooed arm stretches across the desk for a CD, while the other adjusts the hanging mic. “This is Rock Four from Tel Aviv, Israel,” Nic says into the mic while reading the CD’s insert. He clicks play and turns towards his publicist Rachel standing against the wall.
“These glasses!” he laughs referring to the out of place gold frames resting on the bridge of his nose. “I can hardly see! Ariana brought me these.” He turns towards his producer and she smiles while jotting down notes. “In between getting myself dressed, making my kids sandwiches, and getting them dressed, all of a sudden it was 25 to nine and I’m like, ‘Where are my glasses?’”
He spins back to me, takes a deep breath, and smiles. “OK, where were we?” Despite Nic performing his daily routine to perfection, it’s been a struggle lately. His dog Blue passed away over the weekend and he lost his glasses this morning, as you now know.
And aside from that, in the past year, two of his four cats were eaten by coyotes. Oh, and on top of it all, Bush is still in office.
“The only letdown for me in America is the government of the last 6 years.”
“Is Blaire a part of that?” I suggest.
“Of course he is!” Nic quickly swivels again to the microphone, “KCRW, it’s morning becomes eclectic.” And if you’ve been wondering, yes, that’s the voice you’ve been hearing in the national LAND Rover campaign, and no Nic was not given a LAND Rover. He’s quite a simple man, not an advocate of flash, unless it’s musical. And he probably couldn’t care less about Simon Cowell or the Beckhams. He spins back to me. “Yes, yes, Blaire is a part of it!”
I then pose the staple i-94 question.
“Where is home?” he repeats. “I haven’t thought of England as home for a long time. This is home. The States. I don’t know about LA as being home, but definitely the States.” Nic reaches over to push play and unleashes The Fratellis.
“Home’s in your head, I guess. I grew up in Birmingham, and like any place, it’s not until you get out and travel and see something else that you realize where you grew up. Birmingham, which was working class, is a concrete jungle. Once I saw there was somewhere better, I didn’t really want to go back.”
But Nic does get back, not as often as he’d like though. “I used to visit more when I lived in NY. It’s a lot closer. It’s a lot easier to go to Europe on a weekend when you live on the east coast, but I did just surprise my mum on mother’s day, which is on a different date than here. I was at S X SW in Austin and decided last minute to see my Mum. I flew with my girlfriend from Austin to Chicago, Chicago to Manchester. It was only two days. We didn’t even really land! But I do try to get there once every year. It’s a long way from LA.”
Nic swivels again. I crane my neck to the far wall where four flat screen monitors are affixed. Nic turns back to me. “We’ve got the news here,” he points to the monitors. “I have to know what’s going on. We also have PBS kids channel to counterpoint.”
He rolls across the floor in his chair and adjusts a laptop for me to see. “My football team,” he smiles. “Or soccer team, whatever you want to call it.”
“Your team?” I ask peeking over his shoulder. “Aston Villa. I keep an eye on what’s going on there. Everyday I have their webpage up. I also read BBC and the Sydney Morning Herald, pretty much every day. I lived there for 5 ½ years, my mid-20’s, so I was interested in what was going on there politically. I don’t really know all the details much in the same way that I don’t know really know everything that’s going on in England. You can look at stuff online and read a newspaper, but it’s not until you’re living there that you really get it.”
“Do you still eat Marmite or vegemite?” “Oh ya. I have marmite in the house, and every now and then I try to get a Violet Crumble or a Cherry Ripe. It’s Australian. Cherries and coconut, covered in dark chocolate.”
Though a Brit at heart, Nic doesn’t hang out with too many. “I do know quite a few, but I’m not of those who feels the need to have afternoon tea.”
“So, you never looked for “your own” as most internationals do when they first arrive?”
“No. I lived with 50 million of them before I left. I didn’t need to find new ones!” Nic turns to the microphone, “That was Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and before that we heard from Mexico’s Kinky. KCRW, it’s morning becomes eclectic.”
He swivels back to give me a deadpan stare. “But you can never really forget where you’re from. It forms so much of who you are. I’m a US citizen, but I’m still British. I don’t think I feel anything particularly, but I certainly have much more of an affinity with being here, and having said that…” I interrupt and remind him that “having said that” is very British. He smiles. “You’re right, there are those ‘isms.’”
“What’s the most beautiful place on earth?”
“Montana. I’ve been in the middle of Turkey and it’s gorgeous, but I was up in Montana and they don’t call it “big sky country” for nothing. I also love NY and the North East. Massachusetts. Love that part of the world. I miss the seasons.”
“Autumn in Central Park?” I suggest. He smiles. “I did just go to Maui. I could live in Hawaii. I’ve also driven through Oklahoma, and when you see those signs that say, “Don’t pick up hitchhikers. Could be escaped inmates,” you just keep going. My girlfriend is from Alabama. I was there last year and I really kind of liked it. I’ve driven across the US.” He laughs. “I like living on the edge.”
“So who are some of your favorite American…”
“Hendrix,” he interrupts. “Neil Young, but he’s Canadian.” He cocks his head to a pensive state as a Samba plays in the background. “I hate the Eagles.”
“Jazz?” I ask. “I’m not a jazz head, but I certainly like it. Music that influenced me was The Beatles, Hendrix, then T-Rex of course. When punk came along, I didn’t really gravitate to the Sex Pistols, I went to The Clash.”
“You named all British bands,” I assure. “Well that’s where I grew up. Wait a second.” He clears his throat while spinning to the mic again. “The new music royalty fees put all webcasters in great jeopardy, including of course KCRW. Your actions can make a difference. Contact your senator, go to kcrw.com and found out how, and join KCRW. Listen as a subscriber.”
We move onto Amy Winehouse (See issue 01 for review) and other Brits making “American music,” but Nic just doesn’t see it that way.
“Everyone’s been trading something for years. When one thing happens it crosses the Atlantic. I don’t think we think of it as American music or English music anymore. Younger artists are pulling influences from everywhere.” A lot of the stuff that we play here at KCRW is from other places; France, Sweden, Mexico, Chile, Brazil. It just seems to be in the overused term of global economy and shrinking world, that everybody has access to everything now.”
And in this city of access, Los Angeles, our time is up. We say our goodbyes until next time, and I pop one last question.
“Miles Davis or Black Sabbath?“
He smiles. “Sabbath.”
I make my way back into the blistering heat and contemplate a drive up the PCH with Nic and Morning Becomes Eclectic soundtracking my coastal excursion. Sabbath. He really is from Birmingham.
i-94 Extras:
Subscribe now at KCRW.com If you’re a listener, it’s criminal not to be a subscriber.
Pick up Nic’s book “Music Lust.”
And if you’re feeling extra lucky, pick up a LAND Rover.
