From "Hits" January 22, 1999
"I would welcome a hit record, but I wouldn't sit around and count on it."
photo by Brian Goodmen
Time to get down in the Trenches, with James Intveld
By Pamela des Barres

It was just about ten years ago when I first wandered into the now (sadly) defunct Palomino Club on Lankershim Boulevard in the Val and had my soul blown apart. There were a whole batch of acts playing — one of those special birthday or deathday events hosted by the ever-gracious Ronnie Mack, and I can't remember if I was celebrating or lamenting that night — but I'll never forget the first time I saw – and heard — James Intveld. My two favorite icon/gods are James Dean and Elvis Presley, and as I stood in front of the stage watching James Intveld, it was as if my two heroes had collided and merged into one hunka hunka burnin’ rebel love. My best girl Patti D'Arbanville was with me that night and when she saw me standing there, all agog, my mouth agape, she said, "Oh no. Here we go again." But hey, my groupie days are wa-aay behind me, right? I could just enjoy a musician from afar and applaud like everybody else, right? But when his amazing set was over, I asked the people next to me if they happened to know the fellow on-stage, and of course they did. I met Jimmy that night and we've been friends ever since. Unfortunately, he had a girlfriend so l had to settle for palship.

Over the last decade, I must have seen Jimmy play at least 200 times and I never wanted to go home. I have traipsed to Long Beach, Orange County, waited for hours at sweaty Hollywood clubs, braved the dangerous swing dancers at The Derby, and crashed private parties to swoon to his sweet croon. To dance in wanton abandon to his pure, wicked wail. I have taken innumerable A&R geeks to Jimmy's gigs through the years, hoping to help him get a record deal so I could listen to his music at home, but since he couldn't be pigeonholed, Jimmy was never asked to sign on the dotted line. That's what people get for being true to themselves these days. So imagine my delight when I heard that Jimmy had gotten a deal with a German record label and was going to produce himself! To say that I loved the result doesn't do the amore word justice.

On a sweltering afternoon, Jimmy and I met for lunch at the Smokehouse in Burbank (the same restaurant James Dean ate the very same famous garlic toast) to chat about his new self-titled record on Innerworks and to deny the results would ever appear in this godforsaken rag.

How did this particular album come about?
I was asked to cut a song for a compilation 20-year anniversary tribute record for Bear Family, and I wrote the song "Barely Hangin' On." The president of the company called me and said, "I love this song. Would you be interested in making an album for us?" It was one of those things. All those years of meeting with record companies who said, "What kind of music are you going to do? Country? Rock? Alternative?" And this time I didn't have to think about any of it. They said, "We like you. Here's the money. Make us an album and send it to us when you're done." And that's basically what I did.

You didn't want to be categorized.
It's not my job to figure out the format. I'm not a marketing expert, I'm a musician, a songwriter. So the album came out and did so much better than they expected, I just kept touring over in Germany and started getting interest over here from record companies. I met the guys from Innerworks and they asked me to come to Nashville and do a couple of shows. Afterwards they said, "We'd like to put this album out, and we're not sure if it'll be alternative or country but let's throw it out there."
I've had a lot of different songs from this album in movies. ("The Break Up" w/Bridget Fonda, "Clay Pigeons" w/ Joaquin Phoenix, etc.) "Samantha" was used on "Melrose Place."

You played with the Blasters for a long time and Dwight Yoakam, organized and played at the Elvis Birthday Bash every year, you even wrote the music for my spoken word CD ("I'm With The Band"). You make your ends meet in the music world.
That's because I can play clubs. I'm a club musician. I can play with different people. It's a way to make a living. You tour a lot, go to different towns, and every time you go back to these towns, people come back and you build yourself a core following, not because you have a hit record and they know one song.
I like the attitude of a guy like Willie Nelson. He's writing songs, he's always on the road. He can go to any town and people will show up. That's really a stronger way to have a career. What you want to do is build a family. It's a lifetime thing. Even if you don't have a big record company or a hit record, you can still go out and work. I would welcome a hit record, but I wouldn't sit around and count on it. That way I can do the music that's honest to me, I can feel good about it and continue on the same path.

Do you like being on the road?
The truth is, I really like being at home. I love travel and seeing different places, that's fine, but I've spent a lot of my life doing that. The road is something I know I have to do, so l don't complain too much. There's a lot of sincere people out there who follow me and listen to music. I had a guy come up to me and say, "My wife and I just got married and our first dance at the wedding was 'wild Places'." It's like you're touching all these people all over the country and not even realizing it. It's a great feeling to be appreciated that way. So I don't mind being on the road. It's part of my responsibility as an artist and I look forward to it.

You just moved into a new house. That must feel good.
I feel like I have a place to come home to, my own little atmosphere. I get up in the morning, hang out in my backyard, play with my dog... There's a lot of peace. Things are good for me. I have really good audiences. The album is doing really well. I'm happy with the way it turned out, and that I've got great distribution and people are able to get a hold of it.

How long have you been doing all this anyway?
I got a drum set when I was five, guitar when I was eight. At ten, I had a band called Freedom and when I was 20,1 put together the Rockin' Shadows with my brother Ricky. (Jimmy's brother Ricky Intveld was playing drums for Rick Nelson and, tragically, was on board the airplane the night it crashed).

You're a rock & roll staple.
That's what happens when you've been around long enough — people figure out who you are. I guess I've been around for almost two decades. Wow. I'm almost an antique.

The hottest antique I've ever seen.
You're embarrassing me.

HITS January 22, 1999