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Reid Paley Articles - Index |
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Reid Paley is something of a legend in the Pittsburgh punk scene. In the
1980’s he fronted a band called The Five. After relocating to Boston, The
Five found themselves in a burgeoning Alternative  music scene. Bands like
The Pixies and Throwing Muses used to open for them. Sadly, The Five
disbanded before Alternative became the mainstream.
Reid has continued to perform and record. His albums have been produced by
former Pixie Frank Black and Captain Beefheart alum/PJ Harvey collaborator
Eric Drew Feldman.
Reid and I met through mutual friends in Pittsburgh, and have developed a friendship of our own. The following articles were written at different phases of that friendship. The first chronicles my first experience of hearing him live. The second was written a couple of years later, after I had gotten to know him better. People who have known him far longer than I have thought I nailed him with my observations. —Wayne Wise, December 2002 For more information about Reid Paley, visit www.reidpaley.com |
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I didn’t live in Pittsburgh during the days of The Five. I have no nostalgic fondness for them. They are not a part of the soundtrack of my youth. I listened to a Five album (on vinyl!) for the first time just last week. I liked it, but it wasn’t that different from other stuff I’ve heard. A lot has been written about Pittsburgh’s native punk legend Reid Paley in the local media. Most of it has focused on his days in the early eighties as lead singer/songwriter for The Five, both here and in Boston (where bands like The Pixies used to open for him). Little has talked much about what he is doing currently. I first heard Paley last spring when he opened for Frank Black at Graffiti. I didn’t have a clue what to expect. In a room full of mostly young alterna-popsters, the black-clad Paley took the stage wielding nothing but a classical acoustic guitar. He began to play, strumming deep, rich tones from the basic chord structures. Then he opened his mouth to sing. Cavernous. Guttural. Loud and commanding. His visceral intonations reverberated throughout the crowd. Unlike far too many opening bands (and main acts for that matter), Paley could not be ignored. By the end of his set more than just his contingent of old fans were cheering for more, myself included. “I feel like the world was just waiting for me to turn my back,” says Paley. “I spend years doing this stuff, then go take a piss and suddenly it’s top 40 and I missed it.” His songs are filled with drunken angst, but tempered with the sense of perspective and humor that comes from having lived a full life. They leave an impression. Upon hearing his demo tapes (last year's self-titled mix and the new “Lazarus in Brooklyn”), I recognized most of the tracks and remembered lyrics after having heard them only once before. They rise from the depths of his personal experience and are delivered with zealous ardor. Paley has long been an outsider, attempting to live his life the way he wants. After years of various achievements and missed opportunities, larger fame and notoriety still elude him. “The wolves are no longer at the door,” he says of his current status. “They’re in my front room drinking my beer.” Whatever his current status, he has achieved a level of success that many people never know. He still believes in what he is doing. (Originally appeared in In Pittsburgh Weekly) |
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Lucky’s Tune, the first full length CD from Pittsburgh native and nigh-legend Reid Paley, was finally released on an unsuspecting public last winter. The album, produced by longtime friend Frank At least it seems so on the surface. “You think you’re toying with my boyish heart/ I understand your urge to stoop so low/ I’d rather that you’d try a working part/ sometimes it’s good to stick with what you know.” If you listen more closely there is the sense of a man who feels far too much and numbs it with the aforementioned bitterness. The cynicism is laced with humor and a longing for something better. Paley has a tragic romantic buried deep in his heart. I confronted him with that recently. “Of course,” he responded, “and I’m really disgusted with him.” Knowing Reid, it’s difficult to separate his personality from my experience of the CD. Reid can be charming, with a disarming smile and wry wit. His stage demeanor is filled with self-deprecatory humor. He can rant with the best of them about the nature of the music industry, or relationships, or whatever topic is at hand. But the ranting comes from that same romantic place, a desire for things to matter as much to the world as they do to him. Paley’s career is going well at the moment. He is working on a second album and begins a tour supporting Frank Black here in Pittsburgh. He has filmed a video for “Lazarus in Brooklyn” (not that he expects anyone to see it). His view on videos, like everything else, captures his love of art in an otherwise cynical phrase. “MTV has produced a generation of people who don’t believe a song is real until they can see it,” he laments. He recently returned from a major tour of Europe where he was well received. The enthusiasm for his art shines when talking about the experience. “They view music differently there,” he says. “You’re treated as if you are doing something inherently valuable, instead of like here where if you’re my age it’s like you oughta just grow up and get a job or something.” Paley’s humor serves to punch holes in his own aspirations and loves, keeping them on a human level. It pays not to expect too much of the world. At the same time, the context of his scorn underlines his deepest values, bringing them to the fore, in spite of what the world has handed him. In spite of evidence to the contrary, Paley is no cynic. “If I were a cynic,” he points out, “I wouldn’t be doing this anymore.” (Originally appeared in In Pittsburgh Weekly)
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© 2003 Wayne Wise |
Black, is filled with tales of relationships gone horribly awry, laced with drinking, regret, bitterness, anger, and cynicism, all sung with the raw power that characterizes the deep rumblings of Paley’s voice.
