You've probably heard "L.A. Song," the catchy hit single from Beth Hart's Screamin' For My Supper ( Atlantic ) CD. With a scratchy vocal style that may remind you of Joan Osborne or Melissa Etheridge, and a full—tilt—boogie attitude that is reminiscent of Janis Joplin, Hart is poised to be at the head of the class of 2000, when it comes to female rockers. She's also got an irrepressible and straightforward way of telling her story. She performed April 4 at the Park West.
Gregg Shapiro: Can you tell me something about why the album Immortal ( from 1996 ) was billed as the "Beth Hart Band" and Screamin' for my Supper is billed as just "Beth Hart"?
Beth Hart: The Beth Hart Band was a band. It was Jimmy ( Khoury ) and I and Tal ( Herzberg ) . We had been together since I was about 20, 21. I had been trying to get a record deal since I was 15, clubbing, doing the circuit, sending out pictures, sending out demos ... . It wasn't working out. My music just didn't fit the scene. At the time, it was Paula Abdul and hard rockers with spiked up hair and all the make—up. So, I didn't fit in at all. When the Seattle sound broke, that's when I put together the band. Tal brought in Jimmy. We made an independent record, which, thank God, never was distributed. It was pretty bad. Tal had to quit the band because the manager, at the time, had a problem with him. We dropped our drummer and got a different bass player named Frank, who is still like my best friend to this day. Frank and Jimmy and I took to the streets of Santa Monica. ... I thought to myself, "Frick getting a record deal. I'm so tired of it." By this time I was 22. I love music, I'm never going to stop playing it, if it means I'm a street vendor then that's what I am.
GS: How long did you do that?
BH: We did the street thing for about two months. I still had my manager at that time, but I wasn't on very good terms with him. ... He was producing all the demos that we were sending out to try and get a record deal. Because of our inability to get one, he began to get angry, and instead of being able to properly use that anger, he started to take it out on me. ... Jimmy and Frank and I would go down to the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. We would lay out a rug and a couple of candles and play. This guy named David Wolff came walking by one day and saw somebody put a hundred bucks in the guitar case and saw this group of people around us as we were performing, and said, "I really want to manage you." At the time I wasn't into managers, I was pretty jaded. ... [ We ] had a meeting with him, and I remember coming into the meeting drunk. [ They signed with him and withtin ] a month he had us a record deal with Atlantic. He took us in for an audition with David Foster and Jason Flom, both of whom have record labels ( 143 and Lava, respectively ) attached to Atlantic. ... It was Tal, Jimmy and I. We played and at the end they said, "You've got a record deal." ... I remember being so happy that I drove away with my top down on my convertible and it was raining and I just screamed all the way home, laughing.
GS: Then you got the chance to make your record.
BH: We went in and we happened to do it with the wrong producers. Very talented producers, but the wrong producers. Our record was really a hard rock punk record. That the kind of music we were doing at the time. But instead we went in with Hugh Padgham, Mike Clink and David Foster, and they produced a record that was very clean and real slick, and that's not at all what the record should have been.
GS: The first record has more of a corporate rock, whereas the new one has more of a female pop—edged sound.
BH: Yeah. This record ( Screamin' For My Supper ) was a record that I wrote on my own, whereas the last record, you can see which songs I wrote alone and which ones I wrote with the band.
GS: What brought about the dissolution of the band?
BH: When we went on the road for Immortal we basically ate each other alive. Not only because we were playing for no one, except for the bartenders and the roadies. There'd be nobody at the gigs, we were getting no radio play, no promotion from Atlantic. They thought the record sucked too, and it did. ... We get back home and I'm so ashamed, I don't want to go back to L.A. I met a group of musicians in a band called Hill when we were touring through Alabama ... and I ended up moving in with them [ for about a year ] . I wrote Screaming For My Supper there. I wrote this record about my mother, and my sister's death, and some of things that were going through my mind and my fear of going back to L.A. and how superficial L.A. can be and is. I was doing a lot of drinking and lot of drugs and a lot of hurting of myself. I was very shamed. I had no courage and no self—esteem. I remember one day, getting up in Alabama and running down the street and I fell into a ditch of mud. I was rolling around in the mud, thinking I was just mud and that I should die. Then I remember looking up at the sky, and I thought, "Hey, you know what, I'm a part of that, too. It's really pretty up there. Maybe I should just get my shit together and go back home and get some help." I cleaned up and hit the streets again, and started playing the music I'd written there ( in Alabama ) . I go back home ( to L.A. ) , and they say, "You're going to make another record." And I said, "Are you kidding? I don't have a band." I showed them some of the stuff I'd written and they liked it. They advised me to go out and do a little bit of co—writing. I'd never done that before. It made me feel kind of funky, like "Whoa, how can I write with people I don't know?" I met Gregg Sutton, who is just an amazing person, and we wrote "Just A Little Hole" together ( with Bob Thiele ) . Then I met Glenn Burtnik, also an amazing person, and I wrote "Get Your Shit Together" and "Delicious Surprise" with him.
GS: Speaking of "Delicious Surprise," there's a line that goes, "If only I was president..." Do you have political aspirations?
BH: Definitely! Oh, yeah. Fuck yeah. Not in terms of trying to be in the government, but trying to do things to change some of the things that the government does, such as government programs.
GS:You also say, in that song, that you'd "paint the white house pink." I know a few gay men who would be very happy if you did that.
BH: ( screams and laughs ) You've got admit it's a better color than white! Isn't it? I'd really like to paint it purple, but it wouldn't sound right in the lyrics. ... I've been living in the same [ L.A. ] apartment for eight years. Actually two gay men just bought the building, and they are making it beautiful. It used to be a shit—hole dump. And this place has turned into the classiest looking building I have ever seen. We have birds—of—paradise carpet, the most beautiful light yellow walls with this gorgeous white trim.
GS: What can you tell me about your experience playing Janis Joplin on stage in the musical Love, Janis?
BH: I can say that it was an absolutely humbling experience. I hadn't grown up listening to her, and never knew of her. After doing that show, I found myself in awe of what a strong, surviving—even though she died of a heroin overdose, even though she was a drug addict—still, she was a woman who broke so many boundaries. First of all, through ( her ) bisexuality, she was very open about that. Second of all, she was a screamer, which no females did, doing hard rock 'n' roll. Third of all, she was like this—look, I'm going to live my life and enjoy it. If you don't like it, you can kiss my ass. Fourth of all, she tried to cut down the barriers between Black and white. She tried to make people see that Black and white people should be together, not separated. I found that to be such a courageous thing to do, especially considering that she came from a family and an area, Port Arthur, Texas, that was so conservative. She took so much shit for that. No wonder she did heroin. She wasn't the most gorgeous woman to look at and she didn't have a lot of love in her life. Still, she managed to keep going. And she just went and went and stuck to what she believed in. When I finished doing that show I realized something. Don't ever settle for anything, ever. If it means losing everything, don't settle. Because all you've got is this moment. Yesterday is over with and you've got no clue about tomorrow, no matter how many plans you make, you don't know. But you have this moment, enjoy it, be grateful for it, make intelligent choices. If you can't make a decision at that moment, wait, and just be silent, and it will come to you. Don't settle for anything, because everyone is special. Otherwise you wouldn't be here, it wouldn't make any sense.
