Teenagers: the merchants of cool

DATE February 22, 2001 ACCOUNT NUMBER N/A
TIME 12:00 Noon-1:00 PM AUDIENCE N/A
NETWORK NPR
PROGRAM Fresh Air

Interview: Musician David Johansen discusses his career and
current album, "David Johansen and The Harry Smiths"
BARBARA BOGAEV, host:

This is FRESH AIR. I'm Barbara Bogaev, in for Terry Gross.

David Johansen likes to joke that when he wrote the song "Personality Crisis"
for his '70s rock band New York Dolls he had no idea it would become the story
of his life. Johansen was the lead singer for The Dolls, who earned cult
status as the forerunners of punk and metal rock, as much for their campy
drag-queen look as their hard-driving sound. He later had a solo career.
Then in the '80s, he performed and recorded as his alter ego, Buster
Poindexter, a Martin-swinging pompadour crooner whose 1987 dance number, "Hot
Hot Hot," was a chart-topper.

In addition to making music, Johansen has appeared in a number of films,
including "Married to the Mob," Bill Murray's "Scrooged" and "The Tic Code."
Now Johansen has transformed himself once again. He and his new band The
Harry Smiths have a new album of blues with songs from such artists as
Lightnin' Hopkins, Sonny Boy Williamson and Muddy Waters. Four of the tunes
are culled from the 1952 "Anthology of American Folk Music" by Harry Smith,
the eclectic folk music archivist. Let's listen to the first cut on the new
album, "David Johansen and The Harry Smiths." This is "James Alley Blues."

(Soundbite of "James Alley Blues")

Mr. DAVID JOHANSEN: (Singing) Times ain't nothin' like they used to be. Oh,
times ain't nothin' like they used to be. And I'm telling you-all the truth,
oh, chickie for me. I done seen better days but I hate puttin' up with these.
I done seen better days, but I'm puttin' up with these. I had a much better
time with these girls, now I'm so hard to please. 'Cause I was...

BOGAEV: "James Alley Blues" by Richard "Rabbit" Brown, performed by David
Johansen from his new album "David Johansen and The Harry Smiths."

David Johansen, welcome to FRESH AIR.

Mr. DAVID JOHANSEN: Well, thank you for having me. It's a delight to be
here.

BOGAEV: I really love your voice in "James Alley Blues" and on other cuts on
the album. It has that gravelly but rich and resonant sound at the same time.
Do you go to a different place vocally when you sing the blues than you did as
a rock singer or, say, as Buster Poindexter?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah. Well, you know, it's funny because there are so many
things that kind of add up to where you are, if you know what I'm saying. But
one thing that I noticed--I was watching on that Tennessee channel. You know,
they have the country music.

BOGAEV: Mm-hmm.

Mr. JOHANSEN: What is it, TNN, maybe, The Nashville Network? And there was
a show with George Jones, and he had Merle Haggard on; and they're sitting
around chewing the fat, and they have guitars in their laps. And then they
say, `Oh, remember that old song? Let's sing that song.' And then they start
singing, and there was really no kind of transition from their conversation to
their singing voices.

BOGAEV: Right, it's just utterly natural, like breathing.

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah. And I just thought, you know, that's really beautiful.
Why have, like, laryngitis for half of your life when you can just kind of do
these things conversationally, you know? So that was kind of an epiphany for
me.

BOGAEV: Now The Harry Smiths, that name harkens back to Harry Smith, who was
just an amazing, eccentric character, a guy interested in the occult, an
ethnographer, an avant-garde filmmaker in the '50s. He was a painter; he was
a collector of American folk music and artifacts. How did he figure in your
life or imagination?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, when I was a kid, you know, we had a couple of Harry
Smith albums. You know, I think he had, like, eight albums that Smithsonian
put out. So we had a couple around the house. I mean, I have older brothers
and sisters and I come from a house where there was a record player that was
always on, and so I was familiar with his music. And then, of course, it was
re-released in CD. Then there was kind of like a rebirth of interest in it.
And then Alan Pepper, who owns the Bottom Line, which is a club in New York,
was having his 30th anniversary and he asked me to do something. And when
Alan Pepper asked me, `What are you gonna call the band?'--it was about, you
know, two weeks before the show and he was going to put an ad in the paper--I
just kind of blurted out `The Harry Smiths.' It wasn't something that I
really gave any thought to. But at that time I thought, `Well, this is just
gonna be a one off show,' you know. And it was so well received, we continued
to do it.

But the name is really kind of a good shorthand for what we do. You know, I
mean, we don't, you know, just do songs from his record collection, we do
other songs as well, but they're of that ilk, you know?

BOGAEV: Did you ever meet Harry Smith?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah, I met him a couple of times when I was a kid.

BOGAEV: Did he make a big impression on you in the flesh?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, you know, you look up `curmudgeon' in the dictionary and
you see his picture.

BOGAEV: Oh, I get it. Did you listen to the blues growing up?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah.

BOGAEV: These musicians, Lightnin' Hopkins...

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah.

BOGAEV: ...Mississippi John Hurt and the delta stuff?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, when I was a kid, that was the first music that caught
my ear. You know, that was my music. And, you know, I think the first record
I bought was a Lightnin' Hopkins album or something. And when I was a kid--I
grew up in Staten Island, and they used to have a deal called Hoot Night at
the JCC. And every Saturday night, they would have this kind of, you know,
teen-agers singing folk songs and blues songs and stuff, and I used to get in
on that.

BOGAEV: You'd get up there and sing delta blues?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Oh, yeah.

BOGAEV: And how'd they dig that at the JCC?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Oh, they dug it. You know, it was like a teen scene. It
wasn't like for adults, per se, it was like, you know, a teen thing, and
everybody was into, you know, folk music and stuff. But I kind of did the
bluesier stuff. You know, some people would do, like, Kingston Trio type
stuff and the Greenbrier Boys and stuff like that, and I was more into, you
know, Lightnin' Hopkins and things like that.

BOGAEV: Well, you'd recorded one of the songs on this new record, Sonny Boy
Williamson's "Don't Start Me Talkin'" back in the '70s with your band The New
York Dolls. Why do you revisit this song for the new album?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, it's--you know, it's still good. It's funny. You know,
it's hard to explain why certain songs are yours, you know, even though you
didn't write them, but it's the kind of a thing where it's not like I wish I
wrote it, but like I could have written it. You know what I'm saying? I
mean, it just talks to me, and it still makes perfect sense to me, and it's
just a song I've loved all my life and we recorded it and it came out OK, so
we put it on the record. When we recorded the record, I guess we recorded
maybe 30 songs or something in the course of three days and then we picked
however many are on the record.

BOGAEV: I'd like to play both versions of Sonny Boy Williamson's "Don't Start
Me Talkin'." First, we're going to hear David Johansen and The Harry Smiths
and then we'll hear The New York Dolls' version.

(Soundbite of "Don't Start Me Talkin'" with The Harry Smiths)

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, I'm going down to Rosie's, stop at Fannie Mae's. I'm
gonna tell Fannie what I heard her boyfriend say. Don't start me talkin'
'cause I'll tell everything I know. I won't break up this signifyin', baby,
'cause somebody's got to go. Well, Jack gave his wife $2, go down and get
some margarine, gets out on the streets, ol' George stopped her. He knocked
her down and blackened your eye. She gets back home, tell her husband a lie.
Don't start me talkin' 'cause I'll tell everything I know. I won't break up
this signifyin', baby, 'cause somebody's got to go.

(Soundbite of "Don't Start Me Talkin'" with The New York Dolls)

Mr. JOHANSEN: Going down to Rosie's, gonna stop at Fannie Mae's. I'm gonna
tell her what I heard her boyfriend say. Well, dontcha start me talkin'.
I'll tell everything I know. I'm going to break up this signifyin' with you,
baby, 'cause somebody's got to go. Well, Jack gave his wife $2, supposed to
get some margarine, but she'll get down on the street, you know, old George
stops her first. He knocks her down and starts to blacken her eye, so when
she gets back home, she tells her husband a lie. Dontcha start me talkin'.
Oh, I'll tell everything I know. I'm going to break up this signifyin' with
ya, baby, 'cause somebody's got to go.

BOGAEV: It's funny listening to these. It's surprising to me how similar the
two renditions are. You really feel the blues roots through--through the rock
glitz of The New York Dolls. Did you listen to The Dolls' version again
before recording it with The Harry Smiths?

Mr. JOHANSEN: No, I didn't.

BOGAEV: You don't sit around, listening to your old records.

Mr. JOHANSEN: No, but, you know, The Dolls has a kind of democracy.
Everybody brought something to it, you know, and I think my--that what I
brought to it, besides being like the lyricist, or whatever, was a kind of a
blues background and an R&B kind of interest, you know, so we put all those
elements together, and that's how it came out.

BOGAEV: The New York Dolls' version does have that swagger, that kind of
glam-rock swagger to it. I guess you end up swaggering no matter what when
you're wearing those four-inch platform boots, right?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah, teetering, I think, is the word.

BOGAEV: I especially like the cover of that 1999 release, "New York Dolls
Live." Do you remember it? It's a full-length shot of you superimposed in
the foreground over a very dramatic photo of the Brooklyn Bridge at night.
And you, by the way, are way bigger than the bridge, and you're in white
platform boots and tight jeans and a midriff shirt.

Mr. JOHANSEN: I--I've never seen that record, so it's funny because The
Dolls--we made two records and out of the--you know, we recorded probably 25
songs in our career, and out of that they've made, you know, 25 records, so
it's hard to keep track of them all.

BOGAEV: The New York Dolls were way before the whole punk-rock and
macho-rock-star-in-lipstick era. How did you get into the campy drag-queen
style?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, when we were kids in the East Village, you know, it
was--you know, I guess I moved to the East Village in about '68 and The Dolls
started, I guess, in about '72--'71 or '72. And the East Village was kind of
like a hotbed of revolution and the liberation movements, you know, were
springing up all over the place, and you know, women's lib and gay liberation
and every kind of liberation you can imagine. And you know, we were just kind
of playing for that audience, you know, so we were kind of a product of all
those ideas.

BOGAEV: Did you guys set out to make this political gender-bending
statement, or did you think, hey, this is what rock 'n' roll is all about
being? Being flamboyant?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah, both. Both. You know, I mean, that was our idea of what
a rock 'n' roll band should be, but also, you know, we were reflecting an
audience that was very, very kind of a local scene, if you know what I mean.
There wasn't exactly like a national movement.

BOGAEV: I think the first performance of The New York Dolls was at the Bottom
Line, and by all accounts that I've read the gig was kind of a disaster. What
happened?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, we did play the Bottom Line. It wasn't one of our first
gigs but--I don't know. Everything went wrong. We played, and there was a
bomb scare and couple of the gu--we used to fight a lot in the band.

BOGAEV: Fight how?

Mr. JOHANSEN: You know, just like beat the hell out of each other and...

BOGAEV: On stage?

Mr. JOHANSEN: No. Usually not on stage. Usually off stage. So I think
like a mirror got broken in the dressing room, there was a bomb scare and they
had to clear the place. It was just a pretty disastrous night and Alan Pepper
declared that we, you know, would never work there again. I would never work
there again, and hence, I've been working there ever since.

BOGAEV: Were other shows somewhat out of control? I understand the police
routinely showed up at Dolls gigs.

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah, you know, and we would get picketed and it was insane.
I mean, I really didn't understand what was going on, to tell you the truth,
and I didn't really take it that seriously. But I remember one time we were
flying into Memphis from--I don't know where--from Texas or something, and
somebody had a newspaper and it said that we were going to be arrested, and I
thought, `Oh, yeah, sure,' you know, and wouldn't you just know it? I got
arrested on stage at the Memphis Civic Center for inciting a riot and--just by
being there, I guess. And went to, you know, the Memphis Rikers(ph), whatever
it is, dressed kind of like Liza Minnelli. It was an unfortunate situation.

BOGAEV: My guest is David Johansen. He was the lead singer for the '70s
prepunk punk rock band The New York Dolls. Later he performed as Buster
Poindexter, kind of a tuxedo-wearing, lounge-lizard, swing band leader. And
now he has a new band and a new album of straight blues. It's called "David
Johansen and The Harry Smiths." We're going to take a short break now, David,
and then we'll talk some more.

Mr. JOHANSEN: Great.

BOGAEV: This is FRESH AIR.

(Soundbite of music)

BOGAEV: If you're just joining us, my guest is David Johansen. He was one of
the original members of the '70s band New York Dolls. His new CD, "David
Johansen and The Harry Smiths," is a collection of the blues.

The Dolls' first tour was in England, in London, and the original drummer in
the band, Billy Murcia, partied way too hard and mixed pills and booze and
ended up drowning in a bathtub somebody put him in to revive him after he
passed out. How did his death hit you?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, it seems so sordid now, but I was just--you know, I mean,
it's hard to describe how I felt because I was kind of in shock, you know, I
mean literally, so it was, you know, one of the most horrible things that had
happened to me--not that it happened to me. It happened to him, but, you
know, my response to it was probably stronger or as strong as anything that
had ever occurred in my life.

BOGAEV: Well, other members of The Dolls had drug habits: heroin, alcohol. I
think two other members eventually died because of it. How much were drugs a
part of your experience then?

Mr. JOHANSEN: There's more dead Dolls than Spinal Tap. What was the
question?

BOGAEV: How much were drugs a part of your rock experience?

Mr. JOHANSEN: You know, I was probably as bad as the next guy, but I survived
it, you know. So, you know, at the time you would think like somebody caught
a tough break or something but it would be impossible to kind of look at your
own situation. But eventually I kind of came to my senses as far as that's
concerned.

BOGAEV: You just decided you'd had enough?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah. Yeah. You know, I started reading Carl Jung and I
decided that I was clinging to an outmoded kind of theory.

BOGAEV: Mm-hmm. I think it was Malcolm McLaren, who later managed the Sex
Pistols, who was your manager for The New York Dolls for a while.

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, yeah, so he says. But he was kind of like our
haberdasher for a while. And he made some clothes for us and then he went
back to England and said he was our manager, you know, so he could get some
poor kids to come under his Svengali-like influence, which he rehearsed on us
but it didn't take, so he went and found some new kids to work on.

BOGAEV: ...(Unintelligible).

Mr. JOHANSEN: But Malcolm was like a friend, you know, and at one point he
came over and we were kind of like in a shambles and he's very kind of
pragmatic and he would say, `Well, here's what we're going to do. We're going
to make a list and then we're going to check off the list as we do everything
and then we're going to take a gig and then we're going to practice.' And,
you know, he was kind of like that. But he wasn't really our manager but he
was just kind of like our pal.

BOGAEV: Did he have, though, a vision for the band, ideas about what you were
supposed to do, how you were supposed to evolve?

Mr. JOHANSEN: No. You mean musically?

BOGAEV: Yeah, or in terms of stage presence.

Mr. JOHANSEN: No. He didn't really know much about music but he was kind
of--What do they call those guys?--situationists or something. He had all
these kind of like academic kind of ideas about revolution, if you know what
I'm saying, that he got out of a book. And I think one time he met like
Johnny the Red(ph) and had his picture taken with him. And his stuff was
really kind of an academic approach, whereas we were kind of like really
living it and inventing it as we went along, so I think he found us, like,
kind of fascinating and wanted some of that juice, you know what I'm saying?

BOGAEV: I think he had this idea that the band would perform in front of a
giant Soviet flag, right?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah. Well, that wasn't really his idea but he facilitated it.
It was our idea to have a Communist party, which I thought was really funny,
like, as opposed to the Communist Party. It would be a Communist party and we
would dress in red and have a Soviet flag hanging behind us, because--well,
it's just because of that whole idea that the Cold War was such a sham but
people weren't ready to believe that yet.

BOGAEV: And did you perform in front of a flag?

Mr. JOHANSEN: We did, yes. We did. And...

BOGAEV: How'd it go over?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, people you would think would know better or would have a
sense of humor were like shocked and it was like communism was kind of like a
curse word, you know, so I learned a lot. People who I thought had it
together had a little ways to go. But a lot of people loved it. Don't get me
wrong. A lot of people thought, `This is a riot.'

BOGAEV: Let's play another New York Dolls song, "Personality Crisis." You
wrote the lyrics, right?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah, and it turned out to be the story of my life. Isn't that
funny.

BOGAEV: Well, would you like to say anything about it before we listen?

Mr. JOHANSEN: It's a good song.

BOGAEV: OK. This is "Personality Crisis" from the 1973 album New York Dolls.

(Soundbite of "Personality Crisis")

NEW YORK DOLLS: Well, we can't take it this week, and her friends don't want
another speech, hoping for a better day to hear what she's got to say. All
about that personality crisis; you got it while it was hot. But now
frustration, heartache is what you've got. That's why they talk about
personality, hey!

BOGAEV: David Johansen's new CD is "David Johansen and The Harry Smiths."
You'll hear more of our conversation in the second half of our show. I'm
Barbara Bogaev and this is FRESH AIR.

(Credits)

BOGAEV: Coming up, we continue our conversation with singer David Johansen.
After performing glam rock and then swing music, he's now singing the blues.
Also the latest tactics for reaching the teen-age consumer. We'll talk with
Douglas Rushkoff, correspondent for the new "Frontline" documentary, "The
Merchants of Cool."

(Soundbite of music)

BOGAEV: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Barbara Bogaev.

Let's go back to our interview with David Johansen. His band, New York
Dolls, was the predecessor to such punk and rock acts as The Sex Pistols and
The Ramones. Since then, he's had a solo career, and he's also performed as
The Lounge Lizard band leader Buster Poindexter. Now David Johansen is
singing the blues. His new CD is "David Johansen and the Harry Smiths."

You had a solo career for about six years. You toured with the David Johansen
band. I'm curious, when I look back over the other phases in your career,
there was always an element of performance to it, of persona. When you were
just on your own up there, as David Johansen, was it a whole different
experience?

Mr. JOHANSEN: From what I had done previously, you mean?

BOGAEV: Sure. From, say, being a New York Doll.

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah, it was different. I mean, we got--well, you know, the
David Johansen band kind of, I guess, was more successful than The New York
Dolls, and I kind of went through this period when I was a Doll that, you
know, I got really obnoxious and, really, kind of fell for it. And one day I
had this revelation that I was really a schmuck and that David Johansen was
kind of more of a pared down thing; it was more kind of a proletariat kind of
band, I guess.

BOGAEV: What had you fallen for? The whole image?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah, I really thought I was hot stuff for a couple of years
there, you know, but not--maybe 18 months.

BOGAEV: The rock star thing.

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah. You know what happens? You know, you start isolating,
and you start drawing away from people, and then you just start being with
people who have the same idiotic ideas that you have, and you kind of foster
each other's misconceptions of the universe. And it's a bad place to be.
It's good to have more of a well-rounded kind of society around you. You
know, it's good to know a butcher and a cop and a pimp and whatever, you know,
as opposed to just being with people who are as stupid as you are.

BOGAEV: And so your solo career was about that?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah. It was more of a thing where I think, like, you know,
blue-collar people really got into it and, also, academics enjoyed it. You
know, it was something that was for everybody.

BOGAEV: I'd like to talk about your Buster Poindexter period. Now he's kind
of hard to pin down. I guess I could describe him as a lound lizard type
band leader. He came before the whole lounge kitsch revival with the Brian
Setzer Orchestra and others. Could you describe him for us?

Mr. JOHANSEN: You know, it's funny because whenever I do something, then,
like, about two or three years later, they give it a name, and it becomes like
a movement, you know. And usually that's when I get out. But when I started
doing the Buster thing, I was traveling around the country in a Dodge Ram van
with about six guys. And our typical day: We would get up, travel 400 miles,
open for a heavy mental act in a hockey rink, get back in the van, travel 400
miles, sleep, get up and do the same thing again.

And, essentially, these shows were kind of--I called them Hitler youth rallies
because all the kids in the audience would be, like, pumping their fists, and,
I just, you know, would say something that I thought was amusing, and people
would look at me like, `Hey, dude, what?' And in my neighborhood in New York,
in Gramercy Park, there was a bar called Tramps, and they had a lot of great
old blues singers there, who would come in and do residences, like Big Joe
Turner would be there for a month and Charles Brown would be there for a month
and Big Maybelle would be there for a month. And on Monday, the bar would be
open, but the show room--and there was a little show room in the back--it
would be dark.

So I decided I was going to do this little kind of cabaret, if you will, for
four Mondays, and at the time, I was listening to a lot of, like, jump blues
and Joe Liggins and stuff like that, and I decided I'd do some of that, but,
also, I'd throw in, like, a Broadway song, like the "Seven Deadly Virtues"
from "Camelot" and stuff like that. And I started doing that, and then I
changed my name, which is--it's an old nickname of mine, but I used that...

BOGAEV: Buster Poindexter is?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah. Like, if you look at my old records, it's like--The
Buster Poindexter publishing company and stuff is on the old records. But I
decided to use that name, so people wouldn't be, like, screaming for my songs,
you know, that they were familiar with.

BOGAEV: You mean New York Doll songs or your solo songs?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah, Doll songs and Johansen songs.

BOGAEV: Really?

Mr. JOHANSEN: So I just wanted to be free, you know, to do what I wanted to
do. I like to do this from time to time, just kind of like--it's like
Etch-A-Sketch; just turn it upside down and start over again. So by the
fourth Monday, the place was packed, and it was, really, strictly
word-of-mouth kind of a thing. And then I started playing there on the
weekends, and then I was making as much as I was schlepping around the country
in a van, which is not pleasant. I really didn't have much of a life at that
point.

So I decided, `Well, I'm not going to do that anymore. I'm just going to walk
to work.' This place was, like, two blocks from my house. And I figured,
well, if I could create an act that could only play in New York, then they
could never drag me out again. But we had a hit, so I had to go out, and it
all started over again.

BOGAEV: Your sorry luck.

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah, these cursed hits every once in a while.

BOGAEV: How quickly did you develop this look for him, the poofed hair and
the pompadour.

Mr. JOHANSEN: You know, it's not like if--yeah. Well, you know, what
happened was I just cut all my hair off, you know, at the time. And so I
think I started with a crew cut, then I kind of like grew into a pompadour.
But a lot of people say, `Oh, well, it was a persona or something.' But I
have a friend who's a singer named Elliot Murphy, and he used to say that
Buster Poindexter is more like David Johansen than David Johansen is,' because
I could just say whatever kind of came to my mind, and I started to get an
audience that had read a book, you know, and it kind of changed everything for
me, as opposed to...

BOGAEV: And you couldn't have done that back in the days when you were
playing the heavy mental bands or even The New York Dolls?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Right. When you see what happens when you're in that rock 'n'
roll world, which is great when you're a kid, but when you see people who have
kind of like grown older and they're still doing it, and they're still doing
the same thing they were doing 20 years ago or 30 years ago, it's kind of--you
know, for me, it's kind of soul-crushing, you know. So I have to kind of
expand with the universe, or else I kind of become ill.

BOGAEV: Let's listen to a Buster Poindexter song that I like. This is of the
'40s ilk. This song is "Screwy Music" from the 1987 release "Buster
Poindexter."

Mr. JOHANSEN: Excellent.

BOGAEV: Did you know this song from your own record collection?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah. It's a Jimmy Lunceford record.

BOGAEV: Good. This is my guest, David Johansen, as Buster Poindexter singing
"Screwy Music."

(Soundbite from "Screwy Music")

Mr. JOHANSEN: (Singing) At the state asylum, on the second floor, I talked
with a patient, room 234. I said, `You don't look crazy. Can't tell why
you're here.' He sort of looked at me and smiled and whispered in my ear,
`I'm nuts about screwy music. I'm screwy about nutty rhythm. I'm dilly
over all silly melodies, crazy as a loon can be. I'm daffy about goofy tempo.
I'm goofy about daffy changes. I'm dippy over our dizzy harmony written in a
minor key. I love to hear sounds that are queer. I'm eccentric, they say.
There's a boot in a flute or a mellow moon in cello. I'm nuts about screwy
music. I'm screwy about nutty rhythm. I'm dilly over all silly melodies,
crazy as a loon can be.'

(Soundbite of laughter)

BOGAEV: If you're just joining us, my guest is musician David Johansen. He
was a member of the cult glam rock band, The New York Dolls, in the '70s. In
the '80s, he performed under the name of Buster Poindexter with his Banshees.
He has a new album of straight blues, "David Johansen and the Harry Smiths."

You've had parts in movies for decades, kind of over the course of your
career. Back in the '80s, you were in Bill Murray's film "Scrooged." You've
been in a couple other films. How'd that acting happen? Was that something
serendipitous?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Yeah. Well, you know, Robert Frank. He's a photographer. He
made a film, and I was in it, and it seemed before that people always used to
say, `Well, have you been in a film?' And I would say no, and they would say,
`Oh, OK. Thanks.' And then it was kind of like--well, then I had been in a
film; it was called "Candy Mountain." And then Bill Murray was coming down to
The Bottom Line and watching the Buster show, and he's kind of demented
himself, so he really got it. And he asked if I wanted to be in "Scrooged,"
and I said, `Sure.'

And, you know, I've been in some other movies over the years, you know, but
it's not like a thing that I go and pound the pavement for. You know, usually
if someone calls and they know what they want and it's me, then it's fine.
But as far as, like, going to auditions and sitting in a room with florescent
lights and trying to emote, I'm not really so good at that.

BOGAEV: You've got so many albums and bands and personas and styles behind
you. Is there part of music-making that you most enjoy now?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Well, you know, now when I'm doing this "Harry Smith" thing,
it's so non-aerobic; you know, I'm sitting there usually just playing the
guitar and singing. So it's not like I'm hoofing, if you know what I mean.
And it gives me a chance to kind of let my mind wander, and it goes to--it's
almost like an out-of-body experience, and it's great out there.

BOGAEV: I'd like to end with a song from your new album. Do you have a
favorite?

Mr. JOHANSEN: Oh, gee. You know which one I like? The Louise Johnson one,
"On The Wall."

BOGAEV: OK. Great. Let's end with "On The Wall." This is my guest, David
Johansen, from his new album, "David Johansen and the Harry Smiths." And,
David Johansen, thank you so much for talking with me today on FRESH AIR.

Mr. JOHANSEN: Thank you, Barb.

(Soundbite from "On The Wall")

Mr. JOHANSEN: (Singing) Well, I'm going to Memphis, south of Chip and Nan's.
them dirty women trying to cheat a man. Yeah, going down to Memphis, stop at
Chip and Nan's. I've got to show them women, honey, how to treat a man. I
said, `You ain't good looking, and you don't dress fine.' And that's the kind
of people make fun of you most anytime, because you ain't good looking; you
don't dress so fine.

BOGAEV: David Johansen's new CD is "David Johansen and the Harry Smiths."

Coming up, "The Merchants of Cool." This is FRESH AIR.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Interview: Doug Rushkoff on his documentary "The Merchants of
Cool"
(Soundbite from "A Hard Day's Night")

Unidentified Man #1: We'd like you to give us your opinion on some clothes
for teen-agers.

Unidentified Man #2: Oh, by all means, I'll be quite prepared for that
eventuality.

Unidentified Man #1: Well, not your real opinion, naturally. It'll be
written out in your letter. Can you read?

Unidentified Man #2: Of course I can.

Unidentified Man #1: I mean, lines, ducky. Can you handle lines?

Unidentified Man #2: Well, I'll have a bash.

Unidentified Man #1: Good. Give him whatever it is they drink. A
Cokarama(ph)?

Unidentified Man #2: ...(Unintelligible).

Unidentified Man #1: Well, at least he's polite. Show him the shirts,
Adrian(ph). Now you'll like these. You'll really dig them. They're fab and
all the other pimply hyperboles.

Unidentified Man #2: I wouldn't be seen dead in them. They're dead
grotty.

Unidentified Man #1: Grotty?

Unidentified Man #2: Yeah, grotesque.

Unidentified Man #1: Make a note of that word and give it to Susan.

BARBARA BOGAEV, host:

A clip from the 1964 film "A Hard Day's Night."

Ever wonder how suddenly teen-agers decide that something--a band or huge,
low-hanging cargo pants or eyebrow piercing or one brand of high-top
sneakers--is cool? In the new "Frontline" documentary "The Merchants of
Cool," media analyst Douglas Rushkoff reports on the creators and sellers of
popular culture, how cool-hunters act as culture spies for corporations
ferreting out trends and the multilayered strategies corporations use to
corner the American teen-age demographic, worth $150 billion a year. Rushkoff
is the author of "Coercion: Why We Listen To What `They' Say" and "Playing
The Future."

"The Merchants of Cool" airs tonight on some PBS stations and on other PBS
stations next week. In the "Frontline" piece, Douglas Rushkoff explores the
methods marketing agencies use to sniff out possible teen-age trendsetters. I
asked him about a technique called under-the-radar marketing.

Mr. DOUGLAS RUSHKOFF (Author, Media Analyst): Well, that would be things like
hiring incoming freshmen at a college to throw parties where they subtly hand
out marketing material. So, you know, if you're a beer company, you might
hire kids to have a beer party at their dorm room and then hand out little
coasters or little beer glasses--kids in their own environment being hired to
sell things to one another. Or they'll hire a kid to be a spokesmodel for a
product, and the kid might not really admit that they're a spokesmodel,
although these days most would. They'll, you know, wear all the clothes or
the sneakers from a new company. So they really end up being kind of a young,
walking billboard, you know, for a major company.

The odd thing is I thought, coming from where I--you know, I was raised in the
'70s. I thought most kids would really want to hide the fact that they're
working for the company; you know, they'd want to hide the fact that the
jackets they're wearing or the sneakers they've been given are part of some
sponsorship deal, and they're supposed to get other people to buy this. But
it seems like most kids now are proud. You know, it's almost like instead of
cool being the way it was when I was a kid, which was, `Oh, I'm cool because I
resist the corporations, because I stand outside of my culture and I'm a
rebel,' now someone who's cool is someone who's been picked by the
corporations to represent them.

You know, the coolest thing for kids now is to get onto MTV or to get those
free sneakers or to be invited to the, you know, Sprite.com launch party and
paid 50 bucks, you know, to dance on MTV. So the way you get cool now is to
be actually noticed by the corporation.

BOGAEV: You went on an ethnographic research visit with MTV's market research
guru, Todd Cunningham, to the house of an average Joe Schmo kid. What did he
do there?

Mr. RUSHKOFF: It was an entertaining experience for me. I really wonder how
much they get from conducting an ethnographic study of that sort. It
certainly cost them a lot of money. They do a lot of research to try to find
a kid who is an average kid and, basically, nothing more than average. You
know, he can't be too strange one way or another. And then they go out there,
you know, with one or two of their anthropologists and a camera crew, and
they, you know, sit with the kid in the bedroom, and they close the door, and
they ask him questions about, you know, his girlfriend and whether she sleeps
over and have the kid open his closet and show his favorite T-shirts.

And then what they end up doing is taking all their tape back to MTV, and they
cut it together to look like an MTV video because they figure all the
executives at MTV have been raised on MTV, so the only really language in
media they understand is MTV. So you end up with this sort of MTV video of
all these little details from that kid's life. Then the idea is if you see,
say, a NASCAR flag on an average American teen-ager's wall in his bedroom,
then they might use that as a set decoration on MTV's "The Real World," which
is supposed to look like a real place, where these kids are living.

And I asked him, the ethnographer there, I said, `Well, don't you think maybe
the average kid that you're talking to now, maybe the decorations and the
things that he puts up in his bedroom are coming from watching "The Real
World"? And then you're putting that stuff then on the new set of the next
"Real World."' And he said, `Well, I guess that is kind of a feedback loop.'
And that really became the whole thrust of the documentary, which is that, in
a sense, nobody is creating culture anymore. You know, kids are watching
television, but television is watching the kids. And, really, all you end up
with is this house of mirrors, where there's no genuine culture being created
anymore.

BOGAEV: I'm speaking with media analyst Douglas Rushkoff. He's the author of
"Coercion: Why We Listen To What `They' Say" and "Playing The Future." He
reports on the tactics and the cultural ramifications of corporations
marketing to teen-agers in a new "Frontline" documentary, "The Merchants of
Cool."

Douglas, we're going to take a short break now, and then we'll talk some more.

Mr. RUSHKOFF: OK.

BOGAEV: This is FRESH AIR.

(Soundbite of music)

BOGAEV: We're back with media analyst Douglas Rushkoff. His new "Frontline"
documentary, "The Merchants of Cool," airs tonight on some PBS stations and
next week on other PBS stations around the country.

Haven't there always been teen-agers who follow the curve, the stereotypes of
popular culture? And, you know, back to the '50s again, they wore the DA
hairstyle and the poodle skirts, and then there were always those kids who opt
out, the iconoclast, the weirdos and the individuals and the geeks or whatever
label they get. I don't really see how this age of precision marketing and, I
think what you're calling, cultural co-opting really changes that equation.

Mr. RUSHKOFF: Well, for me, for one, it would be depressing to think that
youth culture has not developed in the past 51 years, you know. If we are
where we were in the '50s, then that's too bad because it means that we
haven't even developed since the '50s. It seemed to me by the '60s and the
'70s, you know, teen culture and rock 'n' roll and music culture were places
where some culturally progressive ideas were actually emerging.

And it seems to me that not only have we regressed to a place where genuine
ideas really can't emerge from mainstream music culture, but that rebellion
itself, you know, the indie culture you're speaking of itself, has been really
wrestled to the ground; you know, that where it used to be the way to be cool
was to stand apart from the corporate monolith, was to look at this mainstream
rock 'n' roll machine and say, `Ah, we see what that is, but the truly cool
stuff comes from underground, the truly true stuff comes from kids,' it might
get co-opted eventually, but at least it's being generated from something that
is real, from something that is authentic. And now, it seems to me, there's
much, much less space for that kind of thing to happen.

You know, the most genuine thing going on in music today is probably Napster,
which is really just a way for consumers to share programs for free. But it's
very hard for any youth cultural movement to develop for more than a week or
two without being scooped up and sold back to them at the mall. And it's
really that the process is much, much faster right now than it used to be.

BOGAEV: So that's the insidiousness of the feedback loop; that even when kids
think they're rebelling, they're not. They're just rebelling in the way the
market tells them to. Is that the message you read in the popularity, say, of
rage rock bands, like Limp Bizkit?

Mr. RUSHKOFF: Well, right. Rage rock--you know, this music that, in theory,
originally came out of Detroit--which was rebellion against MTV really; it was
rebellion against MTV culture--is now MTV culture's hottest and most
money-making thing. You know, it's as if--it's not as if--it is--that the
rebellion itself ends up just energizing the machine. The coolest thing to
say on MTV is that MTV sucks, you know, and MTV will grab that because if
someone is saying MTV sucks, then that must be authentic.

You know, MTV will do documentaries about Woodstock '99, where they show how,
you know, kids rioted and how four girls got raped at Woodstock '99, you know,
the day after Limp Bizkit played and was generally credited or blamed for
creating this hoopla. And although MTV can go, `Oh, this is a terrible
thing,' at the same time, MTV uses the crime, uses the rape as evidence that
they had an authentic event. In other words, at least if you were at
Woodstock '99, you were at something real, something tragic, something
authentic. And it really earns them points as authentic culture.

BOGAEV: You used to be a consultant, of sorts, to companies who wanted to
understand better what was driving youth culture. You talked to executives.
And corporations read, executives read your 1994 book "Media Virus" as almost
a primer in how to market to teen-agers. Do you regret that period in your
life, given what we're talking about now? You feel you participated in the
feedback loop?

Mr. RUSHKOFF: I don't know if it's possible not to participate in the
feedback loop in some way. I mean, in the early '90s, I was very encouraged
by youth culture's resistance to marketing, and I looked at shows like, you
know, "The Simpsons" or even "Pee-wee Herman" or grunge rock and Nirvana and
that media cynicism as a sign that kids were too smart to be taken in; that,
you know, the sort of corporate control over media was really going to fade
now. Kids weren't going to fall for advertising; they weren't going to fall
for this stuff anymore, and we would get a more interesting, empowered and
media literate culture as a result.

And I wrote books really about that. That's what "Media Virus" was about,
this changing face of media and how smart people are getting, especially young
people. And the book ended up being used as a primer by corporate America in
how to retool their arsenal for a newly media-literate youth culture.

So it's hard for me to say, `Oh, I regret writing this book.' No, you know, I
don't regret it. I regret my own naivete. I regret not having, you know, the
cynicism to realize that these hopeful moments of intelligence are windows of
opportunity and not done deals, and that what we have to do when those moments
arise is use them; you know, is capitalize on them, seize upon them to extend
media literacy rather than just, you know, celebrate it and move on.

BOGAEV: Douglas Rushkoff. His report, "The Merchants of Cool," a "Frontline"
documentary, airs tonight on some PBS stations and next week on others across
the country.

(Credits)

BOGAEV: For Terry Gross, I'm Barbara Bogaev.
Transcripts are created on a rush deadline, and accuracy and availability may vary. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Please be aware that the authoritative record of Fresh Air interviews and reviews are the audio recordings of each segment.