The good news is that Paul Williams?one of America's greatest living pop songwriters?is finally being honored in a concert series made to honor pop guys. The disturbing news is that the Loser's Lounge tribute to Paul Williams is being held as part of the Toyota Comedy Festival. Any Loser's Lounge show is always in danger of tipping into hipster campiness, so things don't look too promising, given this setting. Concertgoers are even being encouraged to get married by the officially ordained Rev. Joe McGinty.
But what harm can be done to a man of Paul Williams' stature? He's spanned the decades as a hit songwriter, from the days of "Rainy Days and Mondays" to more recent action on the country charts. He also steals the show whenever he's given a straight shot as a character actor. Williams has nothing to lose by actually showing up on Friday night when the Loser's Lounge performs his songs at the Westbeth Theatre Center, June 7-9. And since he'll be back in town for his induction into the Songwriters Hall of Fame on June 14, fans might even get lucky the first night of the second batch of shows on June 15-16.
Williams is doing pretty well nowadays. He's got a new album, Back to Love Again, on which he showcases new compositions and revisits a few classics. He's also ready to talk about sobriety with the zealousness of a true convert. And unlike some of his fans, Williams is comfortable talking about the worst that can happen with the upcoming tribute shows, as he did during a recent phone conversation.
So, do you still have the turquoise pinkie ring?
"Turquoise pinkie ring"? What is that from? It sounds like a line from the typical Hollywood divorce. "She got the house and I got the turquoise pinkie ring."
In an interview back in the 70s, you said that all you ever wanted from songwriting was enough money for a turquoise pinkie ring and a Cadillac.
Oh. I must have been loaded out of my brain at the time. I just celebrated 11 years of sobriety. That was probably just me showing some flippancy, which I was known to indulge in.
That quote never seemed to make sense anyway. From the early acting career to your songwriting, it seems like you never had a real job.
The fact is, my early acting career was a good example of space being used in art to the maximum advantage. I'd do a film like The Loved One, and two years later I'd maybe go on to my next job. I went to L.A. wanting nothing more than to be an actor, and ignoring the fact that I was so short that I could walk under a coffee table. I looked like a little kid with a hangover. My acting career was never really wet enough to dry up, but that's when I began writing songs. The songwriting began as a kind of personal therapy. What I've learned is that "no" is a gift. When I don't get something I want, it's a navigational nudge from the universe.
You and John Hiatt both wrote songs for Three Dog Night, and Hiatt's still a hipster. What's your take on your own career nowadays?
I started in 1967. I'll be 61 this year, and it feels like it's been two or three careers. What happened to me was that I was recording and being a guest on The Tonight Show, and I began to disconnect from being a songwriter. Celebrity becomes an addiction. It did for me, anyway, and enough of a distraction that it took me away from the observing. It took me away from the joys of collaboration. When I got sober, my career was gone. The one I had going in my mind hadn't been around for years. I didn't know if I'd ever write again. Everyone on the street would ask me if I was writing, and I just began telling them that I would return to it when I fell in love with it again.
Was it easy to get the muse back?
First, it wasn't easy getting straight. I remember telling the woman I was living with that she was crazy when she told me that I was back to doing drugs. And actually, I would be sneaking out the doggie door to get drugs. When you're loaded, noises are greatly exaggerated.
Wait?you were literally sneaking out the doggie door?
Sure. I'd sneak out to get drugs. She finally left, and I got sober. But I didn't want to leave rehab. They said you have to go after 28 days. I said, "How do I get to stay longer?" They told me I could come back as a counselor, and I did.
So how did you get back to writing?
I had an acting job to go to New Zealand and do a film called The Frighteners. They originally wanted John Astin for this role, and it looked like he couldn't do it, and then he became available. That was a gift. It meant I could go to Nashville and Tin Pan South. There's something about the way I was treated there that lead to me writing again. There I was, an Academy Award-winning, Grammy-winning, Golden Globe-winning songwriter with a bucketful of copyrights?and at 55, I was learning to write.
The Nashville move seems logical.
It probably makes a lot of sense. I began by working with John Vezner, this songwriter who, at first, totally intimidated me. Then I went to his bathroom and saw the Serenity Prayer. I said, "Are you in the club?" Next thing we know, we've got a hit recorded by Diamond Rio. Actually, it took several years to get it recorded, but it became a big hit.
You know, I still remember when I used to try and write hits. They couldn't even get recorded. "We've Only Just Begun" had the romantic beginnings of a bank commercial.
Anyone who's seen Phantom of the Paradise is amazed you just didn't stay with glam rock, if only for the platform shoes.
Oh, I love that film. My philosophy is in the center of one of the songs: "To work it out/I let them in/All the good guys and the bad guys that I've been/All the devils that disturbed me and the angels that defeated them somehow/Come together in me now." That's a prayer, based on the belief that light is more powerful than the dark. At that point, I was able to experience everything. I was just young enough and crazy enough. I was 6 feet tall and bulletproof. I could walk into the bar as a Shetland pony and come out as a Mustang. I was 34 years old.
I ran into Joe McGinty trying to track down a copy of Bugsy Malone for the Loser's Lounge shows, and then I mentioned that great closing song to Griffin and Phoenix. It seems like there's a lot of forgotten greatness by Paul Williams.
I'm not sure if I remember the one from Griffin and Phoenix.
[Helpful writer hums a few bars]
Oh, sure. "Here's to looking at you/Morning noon and night..." Yeah, that's a good one. There are a few songs that I've written with Kenny Ascher, like "Sad Song" or "Little Bit of Love," that never get heard. "Loneliness" is a good one to look for. That's one of my all-time favorite songs, up there with "Rainbow Connection," which, I should add, is the title song of Willie Nelson's new album.
"Rainbow Connection" is good, but The Muppet Movie wouldn't be the same without "I'm Going to Go Back There Someday."
Actually, that one's my favorite song from the film. They played it at Jim [Henson]'s funeral. It's a song about spirituality, and being reunited by that life force. They had the scene with the Muppets sitting around the campfire, and they wanted a song in there. We wrote the song, but it didn't make sense unless Gonzo had experienced flight. It had to be obvious for the kids. So Jim said, "What if Gonzo buys balloons so he can experience flight?" He wrote that entire State Fair scene so that Gonzo could buy balloons and go flying before the car breaks down...
I'm really proud of that film. The more time passes, the prouder I am of it. I don't want to get overly self-congratulatory, but I think the amazing thing about songs is that we, as writers, get to hear them first when they're being whispered to us.
And yet the Muppet Movie soundtrack, like most of your catalog, isn't available in America.
Well, the label I recorded for is gone. I've got them all out on CD somewhere, except for A Little on the Windy Side.
That one was from around '79, and it seemed to be your last attempt at being a mainstream performer.
It was, because I had a full-time job being an addict. The career marker is that I had six Academy Award nominations in the 70s. In the 80s, I only wrote songs for two movies, and one of them was Ishtar. But in the midst of that endorphin storm, I wrote "Flying Dreams" for The Secret of NIMH. There's real hope in that song. It's the spirit that moves me, shining through despite the addiction.
There was occasional success, but it was five degrees of success and 360 degrees of failure.
But even A Little on the Windy Side has a lovely song like "The Gift."
That's a good one. I wrote it with Kenny Ascher, right before the level of chaos hit its peak in the 80s. What I know about my addiction is that it didn't happen overnight. It crossed the line from use to addiction. Maybe then, I hadn't crossed the line. Some of us are functional alcoholics. My wife never missed a day of work in her career as a drinker. In spite of the drugs, I managed to do some good work.
In their magazine Grand Royal, one of the Beastie Boys did a cartoon about when he was in the Hollywood Hills and found you stranded at the side of the road. You were stuck in the mud with an expensive sports car and a very young woman. You kind of scared him straight.
Well, that's good to know. That was probably me at the height of my disease. I'm not familiar with their music, but I remember that night. We had a nice conversation.
Did you know who the Beastie Boys were?
Oh, yeah. I was cool. The hardcore reality is that I was saved from hurting myself. That was probably a typical night. It's amazing that nobody got killed. But I should probably add that the young girl wasn't too young. She was in her late 20s. I remember her well.
The Loser's Lounge tribute is part of the Toyota Comedy Festival. I don't know about you, but I'm worried about it being too much comedy.
I understand that the shows usually cover a lot of different stuff. I'm not sure if they're going to be poking fun. I could enjoy that, too. I don't live in fear now. I live in trust. If you saw me on The Tonight Show at my most flamboyant, it's probably because I was terrified. My songwriting was where I could still communicate real emotion. My songs aren't a success because of what's unique about me, but because I communicate what I have in common with everybody. There's a great lesson when you let go of grandiosity. I don't know why, but that's life at its best.
That philosophy probably explains why your take on "Evergreen" is so superior to Barbra Streisand's.
Thank you. Please print that.
And speaking of Academy Awards, how wrong is it that you didn't get to be in Tim Burton's Planet of the Apes?
No, he never did call. But that's another generation now. You know, my wife used to have a crush on Virgil when she was younger. That was another gift. She couldn't figure out why, but she thought it was the eyes. Then she walked into her sister's bedroom, and her sister had a Paul Williams poster. She says she recognized the eyes. God, she loved that stinking orangutan.