I'm your fan

Dambuilder Eric Masunaga produces what he likes

by Brett Milano

If you want to hear some enthusiasm about Boston rock bands, Eric Masunaga is your man. The Dambuilders' lead guitarist is also the only member of that band who hasn't moved to New York, instead carving out a second career as one of this city's busier independent producers. Along with his own band, Masunaga's production/engineering résumé includes Sebadoh, Helium, Magnetic Fields, the Push Kings, Ultrabreakfast, and most recently the Halifax pop band Super Friendz, who play T.T. the Bear's Place next Thursday. If you run into him at a club, he'll likely be singing the praises of the last band he was in the studio with; his studio work is a natural extension of his fanship.

"It used to be intimidating, to be such a huge fan of the bands I worked with," he explains over baba ghanoush at the Middle East. "But now I find it an advantage. If something pushes my buttons as a fan, then I know I'm doing something right." It must be hard to tell bands he admires what to do in the studio. "Maybe, but I try not to do that. I take cues from the band and the songs, so it works better not to tell them anything but to let them discover the right approach for themselves. In the Super Friendz' case, they have three songwriters and they're all pretty advanced, so the biggest challenge was to unify those three visions into one presentation. It wasn't hard, though, because I love those guys."

The Super Friendz album Slide Show (so far released only in Canada) is a little different, however. For one thing, the band aren't from Boston, though they might as well be. The pure-pop trend has hit Halifax in a big way, thanks largely to Sloan's influence. (Masunaga has also produced a single for the Halifax band Jale, who recently parted from Sub Pop, and released it on his own Sealed Fate label.) Super Friendz singer Matt Murphy sounds noticeably like ex-Cavedog Brian Stevens, and the textured guitar sound brings the earlier Gigolo Aunts to mind. The difference is that Halifax bands tend to be more willing to wear influences on their sleeve. One Super Friendz song namechecks Jonathan Richman, and another ("Forever a Day") borrows lyrics from Elvis Costello's "The Loved Ones"; the whole album has its share of Big Star sonic references. Masunaga notes that until the last minute, the songs' working titles came from their influences. One was called "Television," another was "Fast Elvis Costello."

Another difference is that some of Masunaga's earlier productions -- notably Turkish Delight's one album and small factory's I Do Not Love You -- had a purposely rough, indie-rock sound whereas the Super Friendz disc (done largely on '70s equipment) is more polished and major-label friendly. "That's more an attitude change on my part," he says. "I associate the grungy, sloppy, noisy sound with Boston rock in general, so I think I came here trying to fit into that. Now I may follow my own instincts more. Also, I used to have my own studio, White Room in the South End, and it was a dingy little place. It had mice and everything. And for a while people were associating me with the sound of the place."

One feather in Masunaga's cap is Sebadoh's Harmacy (Sub Pop), for which he recorded nine tracks -- none of which was originally intended to be on the album. "It was supposed to be B-sides and outtakes. Lou [Barlow] sat me down and said, `Hey, I know you're expecting to record all these great songs, but we don't really know what we're doing, so we'll work it all out in the studio.' So I set up a rehearsal space for them; for the next five days I sat there with headphones while they worked out the structure of a song, then we'd tape it. I don't want to get into too much adulation here, but they've got a vision that guides everything they do, and that's a great thing to see."

The new Dambuilders album -- now titled Against the Stars and due for release (on EastWest/Elektra) next month -- was made in an even odder way. The bandmembers, who had been spending more and more time apart, assembled last summer and jammed for five days in drummer Kevin March's basement. Masunaga recorded everything, then used a computer to edit the best moments into songs, which singer/bassist Dave Derby then fit with words and tunes. A preview listen suggests it's a strong album that takes a left turn from the straightforward rock of the previous Ruby Red. The pop numbers have more teeth, and the band indulge their perverse love for disco. And Masunaga admits that producing the new album -- their third major-label release, and a definite make-or-break prospect -- was higher-pressure than doing the band in the indie days. "Yeah, it's as twisted as a relationship can be. But it seemed like we had a lot to accomplish, and there was no other way to do it unless I got in there. I mean, we never had a definite reason for using me, but I was really inspired by the songs." And Masunaga seems to admire all the bands he produces, including his own.

REID PALEY

Even though he no longer lives in Boston, there's no reason Reid Paley can't still be the town cynic. During the mid '80s he was the frontman of the Five, a quartet (go figure) who proudly wore a quote in their press kit that they were "the angriest band in town" -- they were certainly one of the most abrasive, thanks largely to Paley's accusing shriek of a voice. Now based in New York, he lately plays solo with his guitar -- just don't call him acoustic.

"It's not acoustic, I just play by myself," he asserts over the phone. "I have no desire to get all fucking sensitive. I play a 40-year-old Gretsch through a tube amp; I'll whine over my two chords, and I won't even use the f-word (i.e., folk). And there's no way I'll play sitting down -- man, I don't even crap sitting down."

The non-sitting Paley makes his second solo appearance in Boston this Monday at Green Street Grill (the first was at the Paradise last year, opening for longtime pal Frank Black). If anything, his voice is now more abrasive than it was before -- in addition to the high-level shriek, he's acquired a guttural, Tom Waits growl -- and there's a severely dark and cynical tone to most of his lyrics. "You say that as if it's a bad thing," he points out. "But yeah, short, dark, and cynical -- that's what I am. And part of my criterion for playing any song is, does it make me laugh? To me, some of the most interesting things are tragic and fucking hilarious at the same time -- but that's my sense of humor. I laughed all the way through Reservoir Dogs as well. I'm no fuckin' genius, but I'm certainly smart enough to pander to whatever trends are going on. I can suck my cheeks in and pretend to be that guy from Bush."

Paley left Boston around the time the Five folded, in 1990; last year he released a single on Sub Pop. "I thought about going to London, which is nice except that I hear it's filled with limeys." And his current perch in New York? "It's easier. New York is filled with the prettiest girls from Bumfuck, Oklahoma, and the coolest guy from Flatdick, Iowa. And you can't see the forest for the trees. I started playing solo when Frank Black asked me to get up at a show he did in '94. I thought I was just going to do a couple of songs, but that night the marquee said `Frank Black and Reid Paley.' Bummer. So I got a guitar and did my stuff. People applauded, they laughed, they thought it was performance art. I got the appropriate moony looks. And at the end of the night I didn't have to take shit from a bass player."

NEW NINES

Whatever Sleater-Kinney may say, nobody wants to be your Joey Ramone more than Evan Shore, singer/guitarist of the Nines. He writes the kind of songs that the four bruddahs used to record by the truckload -- big major chords, ridiculously catchy choruses, and straightforward words, usually about some girl who done him wrong. (He and co-guitarist Dave Harrison were both mainstays of the late, great Voodoo Dolls.) On their new CD single -- which crams two songs onto a disc running less than five minutes -- they do something more bands should try. Instead of going broke on studio time, they plugged into the soundboard and got a perfectly good version of the A-side from a live gig. "Can't Stop Thinking of You" is the most Ramones-ish number they've released, complete with drummer Linda Koury slamming away at the ride cymbal. The flip is an acoustic tune, "The Way That We Used To," which brings some Yardbirds-ish harmonica and yet another good hook into play. The Nines have a disc-release party at Mama Kin this Friday, along with singer/violinist/Robyn Hitchcock collaborator Deni Bonet and her band.

COMING UP

With a new disc in the can, the Kelley Deal 6000 make a return trip to Central Square, hitting the Middle East tonight (Thursday). Meanwhile Royal Trux are at Bill's Bar, and Jimmie Dale Gilmore is at the House of Blues . . . Tidal Wave have a CD release party at T.T. the Bear's Place tomorrow (Friday); star producer Don Was brings his eclectic Orquestra Was to the Paradise, and Groovasaurus are at the Middle East . . . Fans of New Orleans music have three choices on Saturday. One of the funkiest guitarists alive, original Meter Leo Nocentelli, hits the House of Blues; Bourbon Street blues belter Marva Wright makes her local debut at Johnny D's; and C.J. Chenier plays Harpers Ferry. Meanwhile Buttercup and Amy Rigby make a strong double bill at T.T.'s, the Sallies, Vic Morrows, Deniros, and Time Beings are at the Linwood, and El Dopa and Chelsea on Fire play the Middle East . . . Celtic rockers Steeleye Span, who were in good form when they hit town last year, return to the Somerville Theatre on Sunday, and Sleep Chamber come out of hiding at the Middle East . . . The Athens band Vigilantes of Love are at Bill's Bar Tuesday . . . And Mark Cutler plays a Wednesday-night residency with his band Useful Things at the Kendall Café.