FITIN’ WORDS
Tim Fite (kinda) clears up some of those mysterious bio facts
By Brian Heater
I try to shy away from straight Q&As when interviewing artists. Do enough of them, and you get the sense that you aren’t even trying. Unfortunately, some artists interviews just don’t translate well to paragraph form. Take the rather convenient example of Brooklyn-based musician Tim Fite. Compared with the biography one attempts to piece together from the seeds he offers, his fusion of hip-hop, folk, country and classic rock—stitched together from samples of long discarded songs—seems downright logical. Behold ...
NYP: There’s plenty of biographical information about you available online. I guess the question is: How much of it is true?
Tim Fite: All of it. Oh, none of it.
Your website says that you were born with no blood.
Yeah. There were a lot of babies born without any blood, and no one really talks about it because it’s a subject no one really wants to know that much about. I was lucky because my parents were pro-active and they met this guy name Laurence Q. Moyer who created a blood machine for me so I can put blood into my body.
Are you from New York originally?
Nuh-uh. I grew up in the woods. It was deep in the woods. You can’t see your neighbors, and you can’t see your hands in the dark.
Does anyone play with you in your current solo project?
When I record, it’s just me, and I steal a lot of music from people so I guess you could call them unwilling members of the band. When I play out, my brother plays with me. And The Gentleman with Itchy Legs contributes a certain amount of pictorial evidence, and he comes in the form of light and shadow on the screen behind us.
Does he actually have itchy legs, or is it just a clever name?
He does.
I think I have enough for the piece. Thanks for speaking with me.
Are you going to say people should come to the show, or that they shouldn’t?
It’s just a piece about you, that says the show exists.
Good. I just wanted to make sure that it didn’t say, “Don’t go to the show,” because then I would say, “Forget everything I told ya.”
Jan. 6. Union Hall, 702 Union St. (at 5th Ave.), Park Slope, B’klyn, 718-638-4400; 8, $10.