Rip magazine interview with Rivers Cuomo - January 1997

From Weezerpedia
Print interview with Rivers Cuomo
{{{Name}}} cover
Publication Rip
Interviewee Rivers Cuomo
Interviewer Mark Lewman
Date January 1997
Title Ol' Nerdy Bastard
Format Print
References See where this interview is referenced on Weezerpedia

Ol' Nerdy Bastard
Author: Mark Lewman (Rip)
Published: January 1997


WEEZER'S SUPER-GEEK RIVERS CUOMO ON LOVE, LITIGATION AND WHY HE DIDN'T MAKE THE CHOIR AT HARVARD

WITH ear-infecting, 350-watt-lightbulb guitar riffs, wantonly sweet, sour and saucy three-part harmonies, fluttering falsetto hoo-hoos and the mentholyptus-scented breathiness of lead singer and stringer Rivers Cuomo, Weezer began in a garage/laundry room on the west side of L.A.
Within a year they emerged as DGC's post-modern troglo-didactic poster-monkeys for a new-jack mutant strain of ironic, cheeky rock. The outbreak started virtually the day their eponymous blue CD hit the Tower Records on Sunset, a place music writers seem to reference for no reason at all. I mention it because Rivers used to work there and hated his boss, back before his band sold two million records on the strength of a fresh new sound.
Around the same time, a cultural shift in the tectonic fashion plates established the Bland Look as the dope new style, so when Weezer were paired up with video wunderkind Spike Jonze and slipped into microwave rotation, their glaring averageness stood out against the wallpaper of quadraphonic stereotypes (the Tattooed Millionaire, the Blond Guy With Dreadlocks, the King of Beepers, the Celebrity Opiate-Eaters and Gold-Toothed Madmen) that commandeer MTV in three-minute increments.
Suddenly there were four guys who didn't look suave enough for the Hunt Club, let alone membership in the J. Crew. Their images were splashed into the retinas and seared into the frontal lobes of an impressionable teenage fanclub—first with "Undone (The Sweater Song)" followed by the infamous "Buddy Holly," groundbreaking mid-'90s version of the '70s version of the '50s that still gets played on MTV today in '96. Like a runaway heart-shaped mylar balloon, full of gas, lighter than air, the band were headed for the stratosphere. "Buddy" buttered their rising bread by earning a Best Alternative Video at the MTV Video Music Awards in 1995, and bassist Matt Sharp's enthusiastic endorsement of Spike during the acceptance speech had the same furor as Hitler at one of those crazy Nazi propaganda rallies.
They toured hard and played more shows, lending tunes to the movies Angus and Mallrats. Rivers went to Harvard; Sharp formed the Rentals and became friends with P. The band was put on hold until Rivers had time to accumulate an album's worth of new material, which they chose to produce themselves, and chose to name Pinkerton after a character in the 1904 Italian opera, Madame Butterfly.

Pinkerton sucks some serious ass. The record is harder to swallow than a gallon of John Popper's harmonica spit, and without the aid of the flotation devices which provided buoyancy on the first record, it almost drowns itself in shallow waters. There will probably be no million-fan march this time around, and ultimately it leaves the listener with nothing but an uncut mustard-flavored malaise (dijonnaise?) aftertaste.
Or at least, that's what some peeps were saying about Pinkerton. Confused after the initial test spins left me unaffected, I sort of agreed. A pop record is a tool; we hear it over and over, while driving or doing dishes, inserting its catchy little lyric sniglets into our phone conversations with friends, until it's marked an era of our life by being the soundtrack; becoming something we make our own. It doesn't take a brilliant record to do that—just something that's got enough commercial jingle to make us remember.
There can be no doubt that Weezer's debut was one of the definitive albums of 1994, establishing Rivers as the no-bake cheesecake of heartache. It did all the things a pop record from a cool new band should. What happened? I wondered.
I shelved Pinkerton and went on a three-week binge of listening non-stop (to the point that my wife asked if I needed counseling) to this delightful cassette of Turkish funk/Hindu go-go music a friend compiled for me.
The Hindu-a-go-go worked marvelously at evacuating all previous judgments out of my head, and when I began to get curious again about what's up with Pinkerton sucking, I woke up one morning before sunrise and left the house in my lucky sweatpants, armed only with my Discman and Weezer.
I went to the edge of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, to watch the sun rise in solitude. The air was crisp and clear. I could see Mount Wrigley 26 miles away on Catalina Island. I figured if the record was any good at all, here and now were when the redeeming qualities would come through, and if it was truly mediocre I could always chuck it off the cliff. I pressed play...
Readers of the loudest magazine in the world, take note: As previously stated, at first glance I thought Pinkerton was a slug, but upon closer scrutiny it metamorphoses into a butterfly. The butterfly is love, friends, a documentation of its erratic, poignant course. Try and capture it forcibly and the wings crumble to dust, leaving a creature mangled and broken. But sit quietly, allow it to light nearby, and a strange and beautiful gift is revealed. Pinkerton is a record so sensitive, so brilliant, touching, moving, rocking and achingly heartfelt, it blows me away.
Each of the 10 songs are ghosts of love—relationships from the past, the present and the alternate woulda-coulda-shoulda-been future. As intimate portraits of Rivers' struggle with life's changes, there are moments of despair, confusion, longing, frustration, triumph and promise. It's so intensely personal and presented with such honesty that the themes—naive boy meets danger girl; being in love with a lesbian; cactus-hearted cynicism over an easy lay; a suddenly eligible bachelor who misses his old girl—have a universality. If any other singer (besides Jonathan Richman) tried to pull this off, some of the lines might sound token or corny, but Rivers is so sincerely sincere, you know he's all real. Musically, the band is louder, dirgier, more f**ked up and exploratory than on the first record, due primarily to the band's maturity and the lack of Ric Ocasek sprinkling Phil Spector dust on the mixing board. It makes for a less immediate record, but it's far more compelling.
But whatever. This is only my version of the truth, and every person has his own. Rather than try and bend what Rivers is about by affixing his quotes to my statements and buffering my thesis, I present to you a transcript of questions asked to Rivers Cuomo in a hotel in the Fairfax district of Los Angeles. He wore a (what else?) sweater vest, talked slow- and deliberately and seemed unwilling to reveal details about his life that he readily opens up about on record—which I found ironic.

Mark Lewman: Let's start out with, I have a few categories. One of which is called COURT. (Rivers smiles). So what happened?

Rivers: I probably know less than everybody else. I just found out last night, from watching MTV News, that we're being sued for two million dollars.

ML: Two million?

Rivers: Yeah. That's the first I'd heard of it. The morning our record came out, I woke up feeling pretty excited, like it was Christmas morning or some- thing. And I checked my messages, and there were about five messages from my manager saying, basically, "We're going to court. You're being sued. Some detective agency has got an injunction. You can't print or ship any more of your albums." This is the day our record came out. And I got really sick to my stomach and really sad.

ML: Moments like that, you feel like you're in such Big Trouble.

Rivers: Yeah. I didn't understand what was going on at all. Because I'd never heard of this detective agency before [Pinkerton Security, Inc.]. I didn't know what was going on. So that whole day was just shot, I was in a weird mood all day. We played Tower [Records, on Sunset Blvd. in Los Angeles], in the parking lot, and the whole rest of the day I was working on our court case. I wrote up, basically a six-page paper, defending my choice of "Pinkerton" [as the title], explaining why I chose it, and how it works for the album, and how it's essential. The next day, they took that paper to court, and as far as I knew, the judge threw the case out when he saw our evidence. And last night, as I'm going to bed, Kurt Loder comes on and says we're being sued for two million dollars. And then I saw it in the newspaper this morning, too, that the case is still pending.

ML: But if you guys lose the case, will you have to recall everything? Do you have a backup plan?

Rivers: I think then they would just sue us for damages.

ML: Damage for what?

Rivers: My understanding is their name is so famous, they're worried about it becoming diluted by other people using it, even if it's in a completely unrelated use. They wanna have exclusive rights to that name. It's, so... famous. I guess. I've never heard of it before. Other people I know have.

ML: How much has been spent on lawyers?

Rivers: [The publicist coughs in back- ground.]
I never ask those questions.

ML: So what was the second choice as a name for this record?

Rivers: Well, in the early stages I had lists and lists of names as I was writing the songs. But as soon as I realized what I wanted the album to be about, what the title was gonna be, then I wrote the rest of the songs in support of that title. So at this point, there really could be no other title. There is no second choice.

ML: What is your concept for the whole thing?

Rivers: I think, it all becomes really obvious once you know that character Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly. And if you listen to our album with his character and personality in mind, a whole lot becomes clear. I think it would be lame if I explained it all. It's like having someone explain to you an entire movie before you go an see it.

ML: What are you taking at Harvard?

Rivers: Before, I was thinking I'd end up as an English teacher or something, so I ended up focusing on literature. As soon as we became successful, I realized that I probably wouldn't have to get a job for a long time, so I changed to music. I really have no special talent in music, but it's really fun. I tried out for the choir at Harvard, but I didn't get in. I was bummed. I wanted to be in it so bad.

ML: Why didn't they accept you?

Rivers: Because I don't have a very good voice. I have an average voice, but I guess to get in you have to have a really good voice.

ML: But nobody else in the Harvard choir has a platinum record. Or did that work against you?

Rivers: Well, they didn't know who I was. Who I am.

ML: You're that anonymous?

Rivers: Yeah, totally. Even if they knew I was in Weezer, they wouldn't know what Weezer was.

ML: Is that why you picked Harvard? Why did you choose to go there?

Rivers: Um, lots of cute Asian girls. It's close to my mom, and where I grew up. Um... it's a good school. I would love to have gone to a conservatory, but like I said, I can't play any instruments. Harvard's a good second choice.

ML: What are you going to do when you get out of school?

Rivers: You mean when I graduate?

ML: Right.

Rivers: That'll be in 1998. I don't know what's gonna be happening then. I always have plans, but they're always really far-fetched. My plan after college is to move to Italy for a couple of years, learn Italian, and then move to New York City for a couple of years and then move to Connecticut and get married. (smiles) So. I don't know if that'll happen. But that's the plan.

ML: What's it like switching from school pressures to the day-to-day music industry stuff?

Rivers: I don't really feel like they're that separate... I'm striving toward the same goal, whether I'm on tour, in the studio, or on the road...

ML: ...Being able to blend in when crossing streets?

Rivers: I blend in wherever I go. I never get noticed.

ML: You guys haven't been mobbed or anything?

Rivers: Never.

ML: I've heard stories about weeping girls at Weezer shows, in the bathrooms.

Rivers: I don't know why they're weeping.

ML: Joy, I would think.

Rivers: Well. I see people at school with Weezer shirts on, and they walk right by me and pay no attention. They don't even notice me at all. I think I just look really bland.

ML: What advice you get out of your best professor? Can you condense the best advice you got into a sound byte?

Rivers: I suck at doing that kind of thing. I'll try, though. Uhm, Professor Stewart taught a lower level music theory class, and his whole philosophy is about total immersion in whatever you're doing. So we would play Bach chorales, study Bach chorales, learn them inside and out, get the basics of four-part harmony, as a daily thing. It's so neat to get so involved in something, get so immersed. So many classes you take, you just cram right before the exam. But he was so adamant that whatever you take on has to become a real part of your daily life.

ML: That seems unreasonable if you've got a full class schedule, a girlfriend, a job, a band—then what are you supposed to do?

Rivers: Well, then I guess you have to cut out the stuff that isn't important.

ML: What did you cut out?

Rivers: Social life. I had zero social life for a year. Didn't have a television. Never read magazines. I despise any type of periodical. I always get really depressed when I read them, newspapers or magazines. It just kinda feels like a waste of time, 'cause in a year or two, everything in that magazine pretty much gone. It's like, if you're reading something that's 100 years old, you know it's probably going to be valuable for a long time to come. I don't know why I think that way, it's probably stupid.

ML: What about MTV?

Rivers: I think videos are evil. And [long pause] I wish we didn't have to make them. [Sighs] But we do.

ML: You could pull a Pearl Jam.

Rivers: Yeah, I keep suggesting that, and everyone says "Yeah, you can go Pearl Jam when you sell 10 million records." But I think if you want to be in this game at all, you have to make videos. It helped out with sales—I don't know if they helped out with appreciation or understanding of our music.

ML: Well, you guys won an MTV video of the year.

Rivers: Alternative video of the year.

ML: It's still a nice award.

Rivers: It means nothing to me. It's like getting awarded for something you have no interest in. It's something I wasn't really involved in, besides lip-synching. It wasn't really an artistic endeavor, for me. If we'd gotten an award for the record, or a song, it could've meant more to me. I mean, of course, our success is due to that video.

ML: It seemed like success happened for Weezer very quickly.

Rivers: It doesn't feel like it's going quick when you're in the middle of it. It feels like it's taking a long time. Especially since I've been trying to become a rock star since I was 12. I'd think about it every day. And it finally happens when I'm 23; it doesn't feel like it's overnight success at all.

ML: Now that you are a rock star, where do you go?

Rivers: I don't really care. I don't want to become bigger. I like being anonymous. So I don't know why I'm doing this interview. I think not doing interviews really helped maintain my anonymity. Also changing my hair every few months. I want a lot of people to hear the record. I don't know if I really want to be a celebrity.

ML: What's the closest you've come to doing something crazy?

Rivers: I never remember anything I do or say. So I'm terrible at telling crazy little anecdotes.

ML: Did you have a hard time in high school? Were you popular?

Rivers: No.

ML: Were you in sports?

Rivers: I was really into sports until I was about 10 or 11, until I started having all these problems with my leg, and that's when I got into music.

ML: There's an ironic use of rap in some of your lyrics.

Rivers: I did listen to rap music nonstop for a year and half, so I'm not surprised it's coming out here and there. I would never try and do it seriously. I went through a huge rap phase about five or six years ago. I listened to a lot of Public Enemy, Ice Cube and N.W.A. I don't know. I'm searching now, but I'm not really hearing much that strikes me like that.

ML: Spike told me he wrote a treatment for the "El Scorcho" video featuring Flavor Flav. Why didn't you go with that? America loves Flavor Flav.

Rivers: Well, that was mainly me. I'm just really... I really want the songs to come across untainted, this time around. Let me take that back. I want my feelings to come across untainted this time around. So when I went to write the songs, I was very careful about being really straightforward and sincere. And not being so ironic, or using weird metaphors or imagery. I really want to communicate my feelings directly, and because I was so careful in writing the songs that way, I'd hate for the video to kinda misrepresent the song, or exaggerate certain aspects. Spike's idea was a pretty limited interpretation of the song—like the "Buddy Holly" video was. Although I think it a hilarious video, and it's brilliant and it's probably responsible for our success, I think there's a chance that people would have heard the song with a little more of an open mind if they hadn't seen the video first. I'm embarrassed of that song now, and I wasn't when I first wrote it. It was inspired by a powerful feeling, just like the other songs were. And it has really nice melodies, and it was in line with my sensibilities at the time, which contain a lot of irony. But by the time it came out on video, it became something that didn't really represent my feelings any more. I take total responsibility for that, too.
I wanted to be more careful this time around. And that's why we chose to make a video that's just us. Although Spike's video for "El Scorcho" probably would've been much more successful. I just hate videos; they're just such a drag. I've never had any interest in doing videos, or film, or anything like that. I like music.

ML: What do you read?

Rivers: I love comics. I love Peep Show especially. Optic Nerve. Eightball. I just discovered Camille Paglia a couple months: ago. Her books are very comforting and reassuring-after I wrote this album I started to feel kinda bad about myself, and guilty-like, I'm an asshole. But after reading her books, I start to under- stand where I'm coming from a little better and realize maybe it's natural to feel like I do. Other than that, D.H. Lawrence, Herman Hesse, Henry Miller.... For some reason I like the 19th century, or the early part of this century. That's a period of music I like too.

ML: Why?

Rivers: I guess I'm just old-fashioned with bad taste. Romantic sensibilities. I like real emotional music, emotional art. That's totally out of style, now.

ML: I noticed you don't write songs about cars...

Rivers: I haven't had a car since I was 16, and even then it was a Toyota Tercel or something. I have no interest in cars. Even when I was at Harvard I took the bus to school every day. That's when I'd see high school kids going home from school on the public bus—they'd have Weezer shirts on, sitting right next to me.

ML: Speaking of Cars: Ric Ocasek. Why did you pick him to produce your first record, and what did you learn?

Rivers: We picked him... scratch that. I picked him because I liked and respected his songwriting. What we learned from him is actually kind of boring and technical. Before we met him, we always had our guitars on the rhythm pickup, which has a bassy, dull sound to it. That was the sound we liked at the time. But he con- vinced us to switch to the lead pickup, which is much brighter. I think when I wrote those songs originally, I was just sitting in the garage by myself, and it sounded great when you're all by yourself, because it sounds heavy and bassy. But in the context of the full band, playing at Club Dump, that pickup just sounds really... dull. And he got us to bright- en it up. It made a huge difference, I think, in the way we sound. I think with this album, we got a lot better as a band-[after] all the touring we did on the first album. When it came time to do the second album, we trusted ourselves more. We had the attitude to just record us how we sound, naturally. On the first record, we sucked so bad. It's just impossible to exaggerate how bad we sucked. So we were really concerned with getting things to this listenable level. So it sounds really artificial.

ML: It was radio friendly.

Yeah. But that doesn't mean nothin'. I think the vibe on this record is so great. That's more important to me than radio play. It's always nice to be on the radio, though.

ML: Tell me about Pat Finn.

Rivers: I met him when I was working at Tower Records on Sunset. He was working there too. He was the first really punk guy I ever met. I totally admired and respected him... how completely nuts he was. He was always trying to grab my balls, or trying to get fired all the time, so he could collect unemployment. He was always trying to get the boss to hit him. We all hated the boss-guy. So I really respected Pat. He played me a lot of great music, and taught me a lot about cynicism. How to talk, how to act. 'Cause I was still fresh out of Connecticut, a complete idiot. And, he also introduced me to Matt and Pat.

ML: Was there any tension with you leaving the band for a year for school?

Rivers: No, not that I'm aware of. I've been going to school the whole time, since we were in LA. Everybody's used to it as a part of my life. And I had to write some songs anyway. I can't do that on the road.

ML: Why not?

Rivers: I have to be alone, and lonely. I have to be in the same place day after day, so I can see the same people, and form relationships and gain inspiration. None of that happens on the road.

ML: Do you have a girlfriend?

Rivers: No.

ML: Why not?

Rivers: I guess I'm running out of excuses. For a while, it was because I was on the road, and it was impossible to get a girlfriend on the road. I'd never talk to a girl for more than five minutes, and then I'd never see her again.

ML: So you're not afraid of love or commitment, or are you?

Rivers: I don't really understand what my motivation is for doing things, or not doing things.

ML: Were you scarred in high school by formative relationships?

Rivers: Well, I think most of that "scarring" probably happens much earlier than high school. All the disasters that happen in high school are probably just echoes of the early disasters. I think my two... aww, this is lame.

ML: What?

Rivers: I think it's probably just stupid to talk about relationships and stuff. I mean, who cares? It's really not that interesting and exciting.

ML: But it gives people insight into who you are, where your lyrics came from. And who "she" is in the songs.

Rivers: Hmm. I think when I write the lyrics, though, I give away the exact amount I want to give away, in the lyrics. There's a lot of information there, a lot of hinting at things. And then if I just go and spill everything out in an interview, the lyrics aren't really hints any more. They're just kind of gross references.

ML: But who has the attention span to figure all that out? What about the kids in the Midwest?

Rivers: So you want some kind of, ah, story that someone can latch onto?

ML: Yeah!

Rivers: But see, I think my life is really unremarkable. There's nothing that's happened that's fascinating in and of itself.

ML: You're a rock star.

Rivers: The facts of my life are pretty mundane, as are the facts of anyone's life, probably. But my feelings are no less intense. I just, have found a way to express the full intensity of those feelings, and if I talk about the details of the experience, then it takes away from the feelings. 'Cause the experiences themselves are really not that interesting.

ML: That's an acceptable answer. I can respect you for you how weird it must be to have to record all your truest feelings.

Rivers: It's a strange field I've gotten into. It's so commercial, and it's so personally important to me at the same time. It's a weird juggling act. But it's pretty interesting.

ML: Do you buy into any of the end-of-the- world stuff?

Rivers: I don't think so. I'm generally unaware of what other people are thinking, so I'm not sure what you're talking about.

ML: You know, the Millennium. The great holocaust, the end of the world.

Rivers: Mmmm. I doubt it. I think things will just keep on going the way they are. I think a holocaust would be too interesting.

ML: Do you have a shoe sponsor?

Rivers: Uh, yeah. I wear Vans sneakers. About once a month I get a new pair—they just show up. I love it; it's so great. Until this past year, though, I wasn't able to wear normal shoes. I always had to wear this dorky-assed shoe with a big lift on it. I hated it so much. One of the greatest things about having even legs is that I can wear whatever shoes I want.

ML: What made you decide to get your leg fixed?

Rivers: I know that sounds like a small thing, but actually, it means a lot, for some reason. It was really starting to bother me. My hip, my back and my knee were starting to hurt. Even walking was becoming painful. And, like I said, when I was a kid I was really athletic. I was really becoming jealous of other people being able to run around and play soccer or whatever. I wanted to do that.

ML: What was your reaction when River Phoenix died?

Rivers: I know nothing about movies. I never saw any of his movies, I never read any of his interviews, so I didn't really know a thing about him. I was a little disappointed, because I just felt some weird connection. Because of the name, I guess. And a few other weird coincidences. We were the same age. I have a brother named Leaves, he has a brother named Leaf. And I think maybe he was raised on a commune or something, and I was too. And... I can't remember, there was another coincidence, too, maybe involving massage therapy. I had just met this girl who was friends with him, and she had said I was going to be able to meet him, and I thought that would have been cool. But, ever since then I refuse to go to the Viper Room—never been there, never will.

ML: Did you ever get beat up?

Rivers: Yeah.

ML: Describe some of that.

Rivers: Well, it was mostly freshman year in high school. Me and my friends were metalheads, and we were a minority at school. And the jocks, and the grits—that was another clique of burnout-type people—the preppies... everybody hated me and my few friends who were the metalheads. And they picked on us. Well, it's probably too embarrassing, and too self-effacing, to describe all the times I've been beat up.

ML: Have you ever beat anyone up?

Rivers: No. Except in karate.

ML: You take karate?

Rivers: I did. And that was really difficult for me to turn on that really aggressive killer instinct in myself. I was programmed to be really passive. And that doesn't work in karate. I was taking a really intense, full-contact style. After about a year, I was at the point where I could actually beat someone else's ass, like a beginner or something. You're called on to do that sometimes, and that was one of the most difficult things for me, allowing myself to kick somebody else's ass. I remember the first time I ever really knocked somebody else out, I started crying. It was really powerful. I felt really guilty, but really powerful at the same time. I was afraid.

ML: Norman Mailer says boxing forces you to confront two very intense fears at once: That you're either going to hurt someone so bad that they won't able to get up, or that you'll only hurt them enough to get very angry at you and they'll want to kill you.

Rivers: I was afraid of the killer instinct in myself. That's what was really frightening me. 'Cause I had been trained my whole life to deny that existed.

ML: What do you do now if you're pissed, or frustrated?

Rivers: Bury it, sublimate it.

ML: Aaahh, a human timebomb. Are you one of those in-the-tower-with-a-high-powered-rifle guys?

Rivers: [Laughs] Yeah. I don't know. Anger and rage have never been that effective or inspirational for me. It's always longing, or loneliness, that seems to be my muse. I think I just don't have the physiology to be an angry-type person. I don't have the angry voice. If I were to try to be a screamer, or write those type of songs, I just don't have the force.

ML: When was the last time the band fought about something? How do you resolve conflicts in the band?

Rivers: We're actually really good about that. We all just argue incessantly until we come to a compromise. And it almost always works out where everybody's reasonably happy. I think everyone feels like their voice is heard in this band.

ML: You're lucky.

Rivers: Yeah, I feel lucky, that everyone's a good communicator and really interested in communicating and keeping the whole thing running.

ML: It seems like there's a good sense of humor involved.

Rivers: Yeah, that's for sure. Patrick [Wilson, drummer] is hilarious. I can't believe how funny he is.

ML: How come he doesn't go by Winky anymore?

Rivers: Well, I think there's a point in a man's life when [laughs], even if you're really funny, you probably wanna be taken somewhat seriously and not always be thought of as the goofball. But I mean, there's a lot more to Pat than just the goofball. He's an all around, really interesting, brilliant guy.

ML: What happens after you're done with this tour?

Rivers: I never know what the hell's going to happen. Maybe we're gonna get sued and go bankrupt. But, it'd be neat to go to the World Cup in Paris in 1998. That's right after graduation. Then hopefully by then we'll have enough songs for another record. Hopefully I'll get married at some point. Then I don't know if there will be anything left to write about.

ML: That's a different band.

Rivers: Yeah. Probably a much lamer band. •


Gallery

Photos by Jay Blakesberg