(TV) Longest, 1 of Best TV & Lloyd Interviews Ever? Supplied by Michae l Olcsvary from Musician Mag (1992) Pt. I of 3

["Casey, Leo J" <CaseyL@VOLPE.DOT.GOV>]

Hosannas and Hats off to fellow MM Lister
Michael Olcsvary for his persistence in 
tracking this down (I've read a lot of TV/Lloyd 
interviews over the years, but this is probably 
in my top-3): 

Michael Olcsvary said:
>Here it is - I'm sending a copy along 
>to Keith but I thought you might like
>to see this.

TELEVISION
The Great Lost Band Finds Itself by Scott Isler
MUSICIAN Magazine, September, 1992

They came, they played, they broke up...

For too many people Television lasted about as long 
as it takes to read the above sentence.  The band 
dissolved almost immediately upon the release of its 
second album.  That was 14 years ago, and fans still 
haven't forgiven them.
	
Until now, that is.  Like running a film backwards, 
the group has reunited - and recorded an album - 
with the seeming haste that characterized their 
dissolution.  If a tree falling in the forest with 
no one can make a noise; if one hand can clap; then 
never has a reunion created such a loud buzz among 
such a small audience.
	
What the hell for?

"It's amazing,"  bassist Fred Smith says.  
"I go out with other people on tour and it never 
fails that someone tells me, 'I heard you when I 
was 13 and you changed my life.'"  Along with 
Patti Smith, Television usually gets credit for 
founding an alternative rock scene in mid-70s New 
York City - which begat "punk rock" which begat 
"new wave" which begat seven times seven hundred 
bands (none of them even famous) which begat 
whatever you're listening to right now on 
college radio.  And they did it all without making 
any money.

Unlike their namesake, Television achieved the rarefied 
position of honor without profits.  They paved the way 
for a scene in which they never appeared comfortable.  
Their fellow new wavers believed in a short/sharp/shock 
technique apotheosized by the Ramones.  Television would 
get entwined in extensive dual-guitar interplay, ignoring 
showmanship for an entrancing combination of fluttering 
melody, hypnotic rhythm and singer/guitarist Tom Verlaine's 
oblique lyrics.  Those who were caught up in the magic 
found them irreplaceable and compared them to the Grateful 
Dead.  Those who weren't called them "an ill-natured hippie 
band" (a Creem vox populi) and compared them to the Grateful 
Dead.  
	
Whatever their approach, one thing about Television is 
certain: they sure weren't selling records.  But 
band watchers attributed their abrupt breakup to another 
cause.  Onstage the sparks that flew between Verlaine 
and guitarist Richard Lloyd sometimes seemed more than 
musical.  "It was easier working alone than with 
Richard," Verlaine said a year after the split.  
For his part, Lloyd added almost simultaneously, 
"I don't think we could work together again.  I am not 
going to let anybody be in control of my life the way 
he wanted to be in control of my life."
	
At first Television's demise had a happily mitotic 
effect.  Verlaine and Lloyd promptly issued solos 
albums in 1979.  As the 80's bogged down into the 90's, 
though, the ex-member's career paths, while divergent, 
were plainly equally random.  Verlaine, with a string 
of solo albums behind him, could always count on 
respectable critical notices, minimal sales and low 
visibility.  The less prolific Lloyd lost time 
battling a drugs-and-alcohol problem; he emerged 
victorious with a stunning "comeback" album Field of 
Fire - if you could find it (later released in the 
U.S., it was originally on a tiny Swedish label).  
Since 1985 he has added only a live album to the 
"Richard Lloyd" bins, while playing with John Doe 
and Matthew Sweet.  The Television rhythm team 
of Smith and Billy Ficca got by playing, 
separately, a variety of music with a variety of 
bands.  
	
Surely the idea of reviving, if not - shall we say, 
for argument's sake - "exploiting" the Television 
name must have occurred to these guys at one time or 
another.  And it did.  Smith and Verlaine would 
"always toss around the idea" of a reunion, the 
former says.  (Smith has also appeared on every 
Verlaine solo album, so there's clearly no artistic 
difference there.)

The idea also appealed to Lloyd.  The guitarist 
now says his earlier, anti-Verlaine remarks were 
made "to shut up all the people who kept telling 
us to get back together.  There have been many 
times when it appeared to my emotional side as an 
albatross around my neck.  Here I am pursuing 
other things and I'm tagged with this, 
'Television, Television.'"

By the late '80s, Lloyd had mellowed to the 
extent that his then-manager, Jim Fouratt, 
tried reassembling the Television set.  Verlaine 
was signed to a British label, Fontana; his 
A & R person, Fouratt says, "always wanted to 
put Television back together again."  According 
to Fouratt, Lloyd "asked that what happened last 
time not be repeated, which was that Tom took 
credit for everything in terms of publishing.  
And he asked that he be able to sing a couple 
of songs in performance, and do a song of his 
own with Tom or on the record.  Tom absolutely 
refused." (Lloyd shared songwriting credits 
with Verlaine for one song on each of 
Television's two earlier albums.)

In mid-1990 Verlaine was out of his Fontana 
contract - the culmination of what Verlaine 
calls "a nightmare with my beloved A & R man."  
Coincidentally or not, late last year the 
Television reunion got back on track.  Neither 
Verlaine nor Lloyd were with the managers who 
had faced off during the earlier reunion talks.  
Now there was more than talk.

Billy Ficca received a phone call, he remembers, 
that "we're gonna try to get together in a 
studio and see what it's like, just jam.  I was 
kinda surprised.  After all these years!  I was 
intrigued.  It was good before."
	
"It was important to see if the energy was 
still there," Lloyd says.  But after 20 
minutes of playing in the rented space, "it 
was very evident.  It wasn't like anybody was 
coming out of mothballs, or was now working 
as a computer 
specialist."

"We just jammed away," Smith recalls, "we didn't 
play any songs in particular.  In the middle of 
it I realized it started sounding like we were 
onstage somewhere back in 1978:  rotten monitors 
and everybody noodling.  We said, 'Hey, we can 
do this, no problem.'"

A Los Angeles-based lawyer, Fred Davis, solicited 
interest from record companies.  The band went 
with Capitol, a label that's has spectacular success 
reviving the career of Bonnie Raitt.  Television 
entered New York's Sorceror Sound studio earlier this 
year and emerged in June with its third album.  
The title of it is Television.
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