[photo by Aja Emma]
MP3: Dirty Beaches: "Lord Knows Best"
MP3: Dirty Beaches: "Sweet 17"
Lately, Dirty Beaches' Alex Zhang Hungtai seems to be capturing more hearts than usual with his deeply personalized homage to 20th century Americana. He's been honing his rockabilly and blues-inspired lo-fi for around five years now, but it wasn't until Badlands, his most recent album, that his "stylized noir" really solidified. Zhang Hungtai is Taiwanese by birth, but has lived in Honolulu, Montreal, Toronto, and Vancouver. His ballads offer a seductive blend of musical and cinematic tropes, tapping a Lynchian sense of romance on tracks like "Lord Knows Best" and the heart and soul of Mississipi Records' depression-era blues compilations. In addition to '50s rockabilly and '60s garage, open road rockers like "Speedway King" and "A Hundred Highways" may recall anything from the minimalist proto-punk of Suicide to the blown-out guitar-psych of Japanese outsider legends Les Rallizes Dénudés (sampled on "A Hundred Highways"). Cemented by his white T-shirt/slicked pompadour aesthetic and noteworthy personal backstory (his father belonged to a Taiwanese motorcycle gang before the Cultural Revolution, in addition to a doo-wop cover band), Dirty Beaches' brand of cool is as unmistakable as it is hard to describe. We talked to Zhang Hungtai about his obsessions, Internet press, his recording proccesses, and Hawaii.
AZ: You have described yourself as a "mish-mash" of classic artists like Jerry Lee Lewis or Elvis or Link Wray. When you write a new song, do you set out with a specific person or image or feeling in mind?
Alex: There are usually two modes I use when working on new material: a) I get an image and an overall feeling of a scene or character, and start fresh from there, or b) I pick up new budget equipment like a drum machine or a keyboard from Craigslist, and use it to explore new sonic territories.
AZ: Is it weird that people seem to be calling Badlands your debut, since you've been putting out releases since 2005?
Alex: I don't mind it when I see it, because it simply reflects the quality of music journalism that certain blogs/websites represent. Those are the people who will forget about me the minute they find something new to blog about, which I'm more than happy to distance myself from. It also makes me appreciate quality old school music journalists who actually do their research before they interview me. And I'm always happy to talk with them about music.
AZ: On tracks like "Hotel," you seem to be experimenting with a more abstract and drone-based approach. Do you get into much of that?
Alex: Yeah. Back in 2007-2008, most of my instrumental work [on Fixture Records] resulted in pop, drone, and ambient pieces. So it was important for me to tie that element into the new material on Badlands, so I could show a kind of balance or progression in my work. That was when I started using existing songs as the sample loop base. Everything I'd recorded prior to that album was based on drum machines, guitar, keyboards and software instruments. So the next few 7" or tape releases will be more in the form of my previous set up: making live loops on my own, with drum machines, experimenting with different software, instruments, and bending the sonic tonality of the electric guitar as far as I can.
AZ: There definitely seems to be a critical backlash right now against the nostalgia trope in contemporary lo-fi music, but that doesn't seem to apply as much to Dirty Beaches. How would you describe the role of memory in your work?
Alex: I think the motives behind Badlands saved me from those comparisons, because it was an attempt to glorify my father in a fictional world. I channeled his physical image and the spirit of his youth, and created a Lynch-like, abstract narrative from images of all the haunting interstate highways I had driven past on tours. This created something that was very personal and yet open, because the character I was trying to play was firmly grounded in a nondescript landscape devised to corrode and corrupt him.
AZ: A recent review on Tiny Mix Tapes described your writing style as a process of "meticulously forging antique pop and rock artifacts." Would you say that's an accurate assessment?
Alex: It's true in the case of Badlands, because I wanted to prove to my father that I could play this kind of music. A lot of the aesthetic choices I made were determined by a desire to recreate the image of his youth. That was the concept. But I had to intervene with my own personality (hence the noise/drone/no wave aspect), or else it would sound like the Stray Cats.
AZ: I'm curious about your time in Hawaii.
Alex: Be careful, people who move there from the mainland never come back, because they never want to leave! It's amazing there. People are very kind and generous, and everything moves at a slow motion-like pace. I'm exaggerating. But it really informed who I am today, because I spent 10 years there, from age 14-24. A lot of people tell me that I'm very nice and easy going, which must be because the culture there raised me well. The food is amazing there. Lots of grease and meat. Last time I went back for Christmas, I gained 15 lbs in 2 weeks.
AZ: Traveling seems to be a constant theme in your music, but leaving comes up a whole lot too.
Alex: Yes, because all the yearning comes from leaving, and that's where nostalgia ties in: you can only catch it once you leave.
AZ: Does it bug you at all that so many reviewers and interviewers seem fixated on your personal backstory?
Alex: A lot of people want to pry into the more private family stuff, like asking if my parents were divorced or not. I prefer not to answer those questions because it has nothing to do with music. I don't mind it when they ask me about the cities I've lived in; it's not only the universal immigrant story, it's the life story of a drifter, and I think the people that connect with my music the most are people that have moved around from city to city, town to town. I love when I meet them at shows when I'm on tour, and they tell me that my music is playing in their car all the time when they cruise around or travel.
AZ: Do you ever encounter reviews of your music that you find are way off the mark?
Alex: I do read some of the reviews; even when they're being really negative and absolutely hate it and think it's the worst piece of shit they've ever heard, it doesn't bug me that much. To me, that's better than getting called a "chink" or having someone make "ching-chong-China-man" sounds when I walk down the street, or getting mugged or jumped. I don't think someone in their bedroom typing some shit about me on the Internet is a concern I should be worried about, unless an actual hand pops out from the computer screen and punches me in the face. I'm more concerned with paying rent on time and trying to make a record that I think is worthwhile of my own time-- and hopefully others' as well.
AZ: The live/lo-fi production on Badlands seems to be more of an homage to grainy blues recordings than to the "just using a four-track" ethos. Your stuff reminds me a lot of the depression-era blues I've heard on the Mississippi Records compilations. Would you say that you're attracted to that aesthetic?
Alex: Yes, I love the Mississippi comps; they're some of the most treasured tapes in my collection. Besides the obvious Suicide influence, old blues performances on YouTube really inspired me to have the courage to play alone on stage. Howlin' Wolf, Lightnin' Hopkins, and John Lee Hooker were often just equipped with a guitar and a harmonica at the most, but just watching them play and stomp their feet is way heavier and more inspirational than watching a 4-piece band play generic rock songs-- looking bored, like they don't want to be there.
AZ: How do you feel about the idea/label of rockabilly?
Alex: I don't mind it at all for Badlands-related press, because that's the banner I'm carrying with me for this album. I'm playing my father's music in my own way. When the next album is in the works, I'd like to leave that sound and label behind and explore a new identity.
Badlands is out now via Zoo Music

