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More Info: Chuck Prophet has been described as the missing link between Paul Westerberg and Bob Dylan - Q (UK) His album, No Other Love is a startling blend of dusty country, twangy R&B and lilting folk served up fresh with inventive production, the use of an Omnichord, punchbowl, hip-hop samples and string sections.
Reviews: Guitarist Chuck Prophet has been kicking around the Americana scene since the early 1980s-in fact, as a founding member of the noir-roots group Green on Red, he weighed in as a heavy player on the Los Angeles club circuit. When the band hung up their hats in the early '90s, Prophet soldiered on as a solo artist, eventually carving a niche for himself as a first rate singer-songwriter along the lines of an indie label Tom Petty or (dare I say?) Bob Dylan.
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No Other Love is Prophet's sixth solo release, and his most inspired. Standard songwriting elements are tossed out the window from the get-go as vocal samples, a zooming guitar riff, and funky Farfisa chords wreak havoc on the easy groove of What Can You Tell Me, the album's opening number. Things tighten up for After the Rain, a sexy ballad featuring Prophet's right hand gal Stephanie Finch on background vocals, then unwind again for the dark, only-in-L.A. lyrics of I Bow Down and Pray to Every Woman I See.
Occasionally Prophet wears his influences on his sleeve-Run Primo Run rings like a Dylan outtake circa Highway 61 Revisited, while Elouise opens with a percussive beat blatantly lifted from the Stones' Sympathy for the Devil. Both tracks, however, quickly take off on their own, Prophet building on the stolen thoughts like a rock and roll Robin Hood. Don't miss the stream-of-conscious What Makes the Monkey Dance, which coils and swirls like a desert snake. Guitars, organ chords, and vibes contribute to the sinister sound, Prophet riffing and rapping as only a sun-baked gangsta wannabe could.My friend Kevin suggested I write something about the No Other Love LP and in particular the title track. He told me:
“I think it's so crazy that out of all the songs people know you for, the one song of yours that the most people have been exposed to is the one song you haven't played in years. It's like the song is its own thing and you just let it into the room, got it on tape and both of you went your separate ways.”
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I suppose that’s true. It started out uneventfully enough. Here’s the long version of the story. The 12” dance mix version. One night I was absentmindedly strumming the guitar, playing a few chords; and these words, they just came out. Like nine words. And I thought,
. And so I sang it into a little cassette recorder. I didn’t think anything of it. Later I listened back, which I rarely do. And I thought: What is this? Is it a song? Is it a prayer? It’s definitely
[Now, this is probably as good a time as any for a disclaimer. Talking about “the process” kind of weirds me out. Just recently I heard a distinguished Texas songwriter refer to a certain group of Nashville songwriters from back in the day as “doing the work.” He talked about this crowd like they alone were doing this noble thing. Like these men possessed the hard-earned wisdom that can only be found in those who fought in the Civil War or something. I mean, I exaggerate to make a point, but yeah…]
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Anyway, a couple weeks after that big night on the couch, I had a low-key session booked to record some new song demos at Tim Mooney’s joint. Tim had a studio here in SF, off 3rd Street near the sewage treatment plant, that was run as a kind of co-op. Different musicians and recording enthusiasts pitched in whatever gear they had in order to cobble together something like a fully operational studio. It was unofficially known as “Pigshead, ” and it came complete with state-of-the-art ADAT technology. ADAT’s were invented before Pro Tools but after analog tape. They were affordable and ran on VHS tapes. Hard to explain.
The place was small—you could maybe cram three or four musicians in there. And there were maybe eight tracks to work with. Two mics on the drums. Maybe three? The room itself had a concrete floor. It was cold in there. I swear I could see my breath in front of my face.
We spent an evening kicking some songs around. Nothing memorable. But as we were wrapping up I thought, “Oh, uh, one more thing, guys.”
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And so I pulled out that little song idea. I told Tim to just hit record. It was such a simple three-chord song that there was no need to teach it to anyone. They could just fall in.
I told the drummer, Jim Bogios, “I’m gonna play and sing. When you get your head around it, join in. And don’t come in politely. Make a big entrance.” So I sang a verse or two. Rob Douglas on bass came in first. And then Jim came in. And he came in big. And we went around in circles on the changes three or four times. I kept singing those same nine words or whatever. It was a very scrappy recording.
I don’t remember anything else we did that night. But however nascent, that little recording had something, for sure. I might have gotten a little obsessed with it—I spent the next six months picking that song up here and there and putting it down. Fleshing it out. Imposing my will on it. Writing additional verses. I was trying to record it for my next album. And I tried. In more than one big fancy studio with the same players. With
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Players in a separate studio. I couldn’t get the song to behave. I couldn’t capture that original feeling. Who knows why? Maybe I was suffering from demo-itis.
After a while, we had gone so far over budget on the record, I was pretty dispirited. We were down to doing some final overdubs in our apartment, and it looked like we’d have to leave it off the record. Then I came across that pretty raw Pigshead recording and I thought, maybe… Maybe if we just overdubbed Greg Leisz playing a little steel and put some strings on it, that would be the drywall putty to smooth over the cracks.
Greg was in town for a gig. He came over the next day, and we dragged his pedal steel up the stairs into the apartment. I have a little drum machine, so we built an intro in another key. And we started overdubbing onto this primitive recording. Some fingerpicked acoustic. The steel.
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Later, my friend Jason Borger wrote a string arrangement, and we got a little string quartet up here in the apartment and overdubbed them.
It came out beautifully. We put it on the record and I was quite proud of it. Of course, the record comes out and nobody mentions it. Not one review singled it out.
But then some things start to happen. Lucinda Williams put it on a Starbucks compilation of things that she dug, like Dylan and Nina Simone. The group Heart recorded it and they asked me to go out on tour with them. Later Nancy Wilson told me it was Cameron Crowe who turned them on to it, and recommended they record it. Interestingly, they changed the word “mama” to “darling, ” which made it a straight-up relationship song, as opposed to what it originally was—a song about God, women and a mother’s love, in a kind of interchangeable way.
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Their version made some noise. It was in a show called The L Word. (Lesbians LOVE Heart!) Then my version was in a chick flick with Hillary Swank called P.S. I Love You. Next thing I know, Miley Cyrus tweeted the lyrics. My niece was like, “Chuck, do you KNOW Miley Cyrus?” And I was like, “Uh… maybe…”
From there, Latin American girls started showing up on YouTube and social media, singing it and dedicating it to their mothers, sometimes a cappella. And the guy who won
Let me tell you, I’m glad I went back and listened to that cassette. It’s certainly paid the utility bills over the years.
No Other Love
We haven’t played the song in years. For some reason or another, it’s one of those ones that people find their own way to—through compilations, TV shows, movies, Nancy Wilson. I don’t know how it found me, but I’m glad it did.
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