INTERVIEW : 1997-03-15 Bright Lights: Big City Secrets (by Creative Loafing]

Okay, wait, this is what he does," Joe Arthur proclaims, showing off his best David Bowie impressions to me and fellow musician Greg Conners. Hunky Dory is on the stereo, "Queen Bitch" the preferred track, and Arthur is pacing back and forth on the livingroom floor (the stage), occasionally turning to point at the audience (Conners and me) in dramatic, Bowiesque fashion.

I have just arrived to pick Arthur up for our long-promised interview, planned far in advance of the American release of his debut album Big City Secrets on Peter Gabriel's Real World label, an album now gaining him critical acclaim and a growing audience overseas. Though it is no mean accomplishment to be the first American artist signed to Real World, judging from Arthur's antics, he is not quite ready to move on to such serious territory. After a year of living in England, away from friends like Conners in a city he calls "his adopted home town," Arthur is squeezing in as much playtime with old cohorts as he can manage before heading up to his next place of residence, New York City. An hour and a half passes before I am finally able to drag him away from his one-man Ziggy Stardust tribute concert to talk about the "Rise and Fall" -- make that "Fall and Rise" -- of his own prospective career as an internationally successful singer/songwriter.

The Fall: "We were very green when we moved to this city, longhairs from suburbia who weren't prepared for the musical climate here at all," Arthur says, referring back to the early days in Atlanta with his first band, Ten Zen Men. The white-boy funk/rock outfit relocated from Ohio to Georgia after being booked to play several shows in both Atlanta and Savannah. As the band's bassist, with little to no songwriting responsibilities, Arthur was nonetheless inspired by what he saw as the more punk-spirited scene of his new hometown. Along with his desire to experiment musically came the "frontman bug," so Arthur left Ten Zen Men to form the more grunge-oriented scream-rock trio, Bellybutton.

Though Bellybutton had a semi-successful run in Atlanta -- Arthur can still recite several of the negative and positive reviews his old band received in CL's Music Menu -- he was still not sure that he had found his true musical calling. "Bellybutton was all about trying to make this impressive, complicated piece of music. Playing bass for that band was pretty symbolic of my frame of mind at the time. It was the instrument that I practiced on relentlessly to compensate for my low self-esteem. I was becoming more technically proficient, but less sincere. The music was all kind of clever, really, but it didn't come from a genuine place."

Subsequently, Bellybutton dissolved, as did as Arthur's naive ideas about the simple road to rock 'n' roll superstardom. Though in hindsight he knows the breakup of Bellybutton forced the creative soul-search that led directly to his current success, he remembers it as a desperate period: "All of the ideas that I hung onto about being in this huge rock band or making this big career in music fell through at that point and I was just stripped down to nothing. I moved into this one-room apartment behind Fellini's and I was so depressed. I felt like I didn't have anything at all."

What Arthur did have, however, was time out from the "harder rockin'" identity he had created for himself in the local music community. The respite brought with it an opportunity to experiment with a change of direction. "With the band, I had the mentality that I couldn't just play a simple, strummy song. It was more like, 'I wanna rock the house.' I gave up on that idea and became a little more vulnerable to the idea of writing these simple, open-chord type songs. I was working over at Homage, but when I wasn't there I was in my apartment recording all of these acoustic-based songs with this little home-studio setup I had."

The Rise: During that period, Arthur recorded two album-length demo tapes, both of which contained his "acoustic-based songs" along with several multilayered tracks that sounded oddly well-produced for a homespun recording. Arthur made numerous copies of each, alternately passing them out to friends as well as sending them to every record company he could find an mailing address for.

"I sent some to record companies, but they all came back telling me not to quit my day job or to inform me that they didn't accept unsolicited material," Arthur recalls. The next step was to form a band, Joseph Arthur Foundation, to back the material live, while reconsidering the idea of recording a CD independently. So much for the rejection letters from record companies. In the end it would be the cassette that he gave to friend, music writer Mikel K., that led to this message on his answering machine: "This is Peter Gabriel. I think you write great songs. I want to get in touch with you."

As it turns out, K had passed the demo on to Joe Babka of Capricorn Records, who in turn, sent it to former Real World employee Harvey Schwartz. Gabriel, passing through New York, visited Schwartz, who suggested that he give the demo a listen. By the second song, "Pick Up The Phone," Gabriel was hooked. Not long after he left Schwartz's house with both the musician's tape and phone number, he called to offer a Arthur a record deal.

Although negotiations had already taken place with regard to Real World, Arthur wasn't any less nervous about the first show he was booked to play in New York -- and which Gabriel was expected to attend. He admits that paranoid thoughts raced through his head of Gabriel changing his mind after seeing him perform in person; when informed that Lou Reed would be in attendance as well, his anxiety went into overdrive.

"It was just so fucking intense. I went in the bathroom and got on my knees and prayed, no shit." Arthur laughs. "It was just way too fucking intense with Lou Reed there. But then before I knew it I was sitting in a restaurant with him sharing ice cream off the same plate. It was like dreaming with your eyes open." Arthur floated back home to Atlanta, packed up his apartment, and left for Europe to record his album.

Big City Secrets, set for release March 11, continues Arthur's quest to open himself to further musical experimentation, with results as sincere as they are dramatic. With its dense rhythmic layering and loop-enhanced textures, the European influence on this album's production is undeniable. However, Arthur's earlier, less complicated approach to songwriting still forms the core of the material; even the most studio-enhanced tracks revolve entirely around the artist's voice, simple guitar work and intimate lyrical content. With this unique debut, Arthur has managed to develop his simple rock and folk-oriented songs into ambient, fully evolved compositions.

Coda: "I'm going to the Grammys, is that insane?" Joseph Arthur asks over the phone from New York. I'm calling to see how things have gone since he visited Atlanta in December. Even though he has just returned from a successful tour in Europe, Arthur sounds slightly bewildered by the invitation. The Grammys?

For some reason, I wonder whether he attended Bowie's 50th Birthday Bash (the Lou Reed connection, maybe)? He didn't, but once on the subject, we become entangled in a discussion about the state of Bowie's most current releases. It's then that I recall Arthur's recent display of admiration for The Man Who Sold The World.

I can't help but say it: "Too bad you weren't there, Joe. He probably could've used your help."