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| The Steve Mardon Interview |
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Jan Rottweiler: In just five years, you’ve gone from an unknown singer-songwriter playing open mikes to an unknown singer-songwriter who somehow got a gig at the Kendall Cafe and a bizarre mention in the Boston Globe. How did your musical career get started? Steve Mardon: About five years ago I started playing open mikes at places like the Burren and the Kendall Cafe. Initially I did covers of my favorite tunes — songs like “Six Days on the Road” and “Ragged But Right.” Once I realized that no one was paying the slightest bit of attention, I figured I could just as easily be ignored while playing original material. So I started writing my own stuff. To my surprise, a few people listened — I think “Distracted” was the first song that someone actually applauded, although that might have been one of those cases where someone sitting on a barstool hears a funny joke and starts clapping to impress the person telling the joke. An interesting aside: At the time, the song was titled “(I Wanna Be) Distracted.” It was only recently that I amended the title to the simpler “Distracted.” JR: That is interesting. Then what happened? Did a talent scout spot you playing an open mike and give you your big break? Mardon: No, that never happened. To anyone. Ever. The only thing open mikes lead to is more open mikes. But they do help you get comfortable playing on stage without hyperventilating. Eventually I tired of the brutality inherent in the open mike sign-up process and began begging people I knew who were in bands to let me open for them. I pitched it like this: “Hey, you guys don’t start until 10:15 anyway, so why don’t you let me play a short acoustic set beforehand? I should be able to bring in an extra 10 people. I’ll wash your car, I’ll do your laundry ... you name it.” It worked. In August of 2000 I managed to get an opening act slot for the Weisstronauts at Toad in Porter Square. My friend Kevin Quinn — who plays bass with them and who I’ve known since fourth grade — was instrumental in making this happen. In the winter and spring of 2001, I got a string of opening act gigs at Tir Na Nog in Union Square, playing in advance of the Easy Marks, a three-piece blues band. After I had played a few times, their frontman, Mark Clark, pulled me aside and said: “Steve, you’re not great, but you don’t stink.” That meant a lot. JR: He really said that? Mardon: Well, actually he said, “Steve, you’re not great, but you don’t suck.” I’m trying to keep this as clean as possible. JR: How did you get your first outright gig? Mardon: Well, in the fall of 2001 my friend Andy “A.J.” Crowe found out that they had started an Monday night acoustic series at O’Brien’s Pub in Allston. He introduced me to the booker there, who agreed to let me play. That was a real milestone — for the first time I had nearly an hour to play. JR: Let’s talk about some of your songs. When you first started performing “Coffee & Beer” — with its chorus of “Well I start my day with coffee and I end it with a beer / and in between I wonder what the hell I’m doing here” — Modern Bride hailed you as a “cowboy existentialist who speaks for a generation of disillusioned twenty-somethings.” How did that make you feel? Mardon: At first I felt a lot of pressure, but that subsided when I played the song so often that people started pleading with me not to play it anymore. JR: Your songs tell some pretty crazy stories — there’s one about a woman who’s more in love with her dog than her boyfriend ... Mardon: “Love Triangle” ... JR: And one about an office drone’s obsession with an attractive coworker ... Mardon: “New Girl at the Office” ... JR: Where do these songs come from? Mardon: It’s a blend of fact and fiction and exaggeration for dramatic effect — I usually start with an idea from reality and then what rhymes seems to pull the song in a certain direction. JR: Not all your reviews have been favorable. One critic called you a “barely competent guitarist with the vocal range of a prepubescent whale.” Mardon: Look, my mother says a lot of things. JR: Is it true that Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan have recorded your songs? Mardon: No. JR: Has anyone ever recorded your songs? Mardon: Well, I’ve recorded some of my songs. But other people — no. I once sent demo versions of nine of my tunes to a guy in North Carolina who I trade Dead shows with. He said in an email that he had friends in a country band who might want to record one of them. I never heard any more from him about it, but it was exciting nonetheless. JR: Is it true that you were featured in the Boston Globe? Mardon: Well, if your definition of “featured” includes being publicly mocked, yes. What happened was that I mailed in my three-song sampler to the “Go!” section in advance of a gig at O’Brien’s. The guy who writes it ended up quoting selectively — and largely out of context — from my cover letter. (Mardon pulls out a tattered clipping from his wallet). So what appeared in the Feb. 11 edition under the heading “Working the Angles” was this: If we seem a little edgy today, it’s because we recently learned that someone is trying to steal our job. Seriously. An aspiring singer by the name of Steve Mardon sent us a CD of his folk-pop tunes, accompanied by a manipulative missive carefully outlining how we should promulgate his show tonight at O’Brien’s Pub in Allston. “One possible angle,” he benevolently offers, “is that O’Brien’s is normally a loud rock club, but unbeknownst to almost everybody, Monday was designated as an acoustic night.” As if that wasn’t enough, he continues: “Another angle is that my songs are change of pace from the usual self-absorbed folkie thing.” Listen Mardon, we’ll come up with the angles around here. Just back off and focus on your music, buddy. And lay off that “unbeknownst,” while you’re at it. You’ve experienced Mardon’s journalistic vision; for the musical one, head to O’Brien’s Pub at 9; $4.I had mixed feelings about it. But the fact is if I had just sent in the CD with a note saying, “Here’s my CD — hope you like it,” he never would have mentioned me. JR: This is kind of personal, so you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to. But in researching this story I spoke to a number of women you’ve dated who said you have an unusually large ... Mardon (interrupts): H-h-hey — wait! — JR: ... CD collection. Mardon: Oh. I’d rather not comment on that. Look, it’s almost time for my nap — can we continue this some other time? |