If you don’t believe that The Wildhearts are one of the greatest rock bands of the past two decades—well, then you either haven’t seen them live or had a chance to have frontman Ginger explain the facts. The most important thing about The Wildhearts is that they aren’t rockers who treat big riffs as a joke. They are, in fact, jokers who take the mission of big riffs very seriously.
The latest evidence is last year’s live Geordie in Wonderland, which captures a brief reunion of a classic Wildhearts line-up. The band’s always been as volatile as Ginger himself, of course, so you have to grab what you can get from The Wildhearts—including this week’s chance to see them in the cozy confines of Rebel. Maybe you’ll even get to enjoy a talk with Ginger, much like we did.
NYP: It’s always great to have a new Wildhearts live album. You made one of the best “Live In Tokyo” albums ever.
Ginger: And it never got released outside of Japan. Nobody gave a shit. Typical, really. It’s like the extinction of the animals, people destroying the planet. Someday they’ll miss it and say, “I wish we hadn’t killed it.” I’ve got nothing against capitalism—it’s the foundation of all business—but if it’s all about money, then all that’s left is MTV.
Being a kid and going to see a live band is really important. Rock ’n’ roll is very healthy to have. It’s a good way to get rid of aggression: Get it out in the audience instead of taking it out to the streets. If you starve it into extinction, then all the people in the music business deserve to be unemployed. Then they’ll invest in teenagers and use it as a tax loss? You’re killing legendary bands. Back then, you had Guns N’ Roses selling 9 million copies. Now you’ve got nine bands selling 1 million copies, but there’s no back catalog. They’re all fucking idiots. Those bands aren’t consistent. They don’t have staying power, which obviously The Wildhearts have. It’s like taking over Coca Cola and not knowing how to sell it. Rock ’n’ roll has to be the easiest thing to sell in the world.
If it gets to the point where I can’t afford to play in a band—well, that’s totally rubbish. God, even Lemmy gets paid. We’re just a really unlucky band. I can’t figure out why every other hard-rock band is making a living at it. We’re just a bunch of real unlucky guys. Maybe people are taking it for granted when we’re here, and then it’ll be, “Well, whatever happened to that band?” But how many millions are plowed into bands that no one likes? I don’t know what these fucking people are thinking. We can find record labels who know what we’re about, but we can’t live on nothing. Fuck, it’s a fight to get a publishing deal! I’m broke. I’m a songwriter. It’s my right to have a publishing deal.
If you’re a plumber, and you can’t get a job as a plumber, you’d be a pissed-off plumber. It’s just a matter of somebody giving a shit and working with us. We’ve already gotten every telepathic rock ’n’ roll fan into the band. Anyone who’s happened onto us—from the website, whatever—loves us, but it’s not going to work unless we get into TV and movies. What the fuck do they think we’re doing here? I’ve always felt that most people in the music business are full of shit, and every year proves me more correct.
March 10, The Rebel, 251 W. 30th St. (betw. 7th & 8th), 212-695-2747; 8, $12.
