Collin Wade Monk returns after 20 years
Playing “Southern-fried gothic astro-honk,” Collin Wade Monk was a seasoned Nashville rock performer in the late-‘80s to mid-‘90s, backed by bands including the Bongo Fury and the Ladyfingers.
However, after three albums and a chance at a record deal with Geffen Records, Monk walked away from music in 1997, due to the three Fs: family, finances and frustration.
After moving away from Nashville, Monk eventually warmed his chops back up, busking as a solo performer in Chattanooga, and he recently released his first album in over 20 years, Et Tu Mary Sue.
Monk took the time to answer some questions for The Pulse in advance of his October 26 show at Barking Legs Theater opening for Roger Alan Wade.“I grew up in a house where music paid the bills but was not viewed as an aspiration,” said Monk, when asked about his musical beginnings.
“My father was a disc jockey with a depression-era viewpoint,” said Monk about his father Charlie Monk, the Nashville radio and music publishing figure. “Pre-Beatles AM radio was a hodgepodge, and he brought home whatever 45s were being discarded, without regard to quality. Whatever he didn’t want, my brother had first crack at, and then I got the dregs.”
“I didn’t see anybody play an instrument, except the dour old lady at church; so I thought the sounds coming out of my 1967 Kenner Close ‘N Play were magic, and that might still be true.”
“As someone who is obsessive, I found one record and played it repeatedly: The Fireballs’ ‘Bottle of Wine,’” said Monk. “I guess that audio experience is something I am always chasing. Eddie Van Halen has his ‘brown sound,’ and mine tilts a little more towards beige.”
“I learned to play the guitar because my brother did, but I never thought I would be any good; so I played bass in some bands,” said Monk. “Then I heard Mojo Nixon and Richie Havens around the same time. Man, did that look like fun!”
“I do wish I had stuck to my guns in that period, but I let myself get convinced that I could get a record deal,” said Monk. “I played with some great musicians, but then I got married with kids; and as the great Tommy Womack said, ‘Nothing like a gig in Nashville to make you feel slightly unloved.’”
“Then we moved to Chattanooga, and I didn’t touch a guitar for a year,” said Monk. “Met Bob Stagner and Steve Hickman, but still were just friends and neighbors for 10 years.”
Last winter, Monk finally approached Stagner who is known for his drumming in the Shaking Ray Levis, Prime Lens and Roger Alan Wade’s band about putting together an album, and then Hickman—a recording engineer and keyboard player—was also enlisted for the project.
“Steve and Bob complement each other to the highest degree,” said Monk. “They are as different as drums and piano. I think this record shows off the sum of their individual experiences.”
On “Swim”:
I wrote the guitar riff while I was busking because when I started, I was so self-conscious that I would just noodle on the guitar until I felt I could open my mouth. The lyrics are basically saying that if you want to know about a group of people, you have to go where they are, because if a large group of people that you don’t know shows up at your doorstep, and it’s not your birthday, there will be trouble.
On “Tara”:
This was written by Jim Ridley, the former film critic and Editor in Chief at the Nashville Scene. He was the best friend I ever had—to his credit, many people say that—and when he died suddenly a couple ago, I felt like I owed his memory something. Most people had no idea that he wrote songs as well. Memory eternal.
On “Devilandme”:
I just love the way it is all over the place but still cohesive. Evan Lipson is just spanking that upright [bass], and how many non-jazz records have drum solos anymore? Cody Dickinson from the North Mississippi Allstars said the drums on this record are “mental.” The lyrics speak for themselves.
“This record could not have been made in Nashville,” said Monk. “They already know what to play, and getting too far out of bounds is risky because someone might hear it and then not call you for a job because the budget can’t absorb the risk. I actually had a musician once say that when he turned down a gig with me.”