Caropop

Johnny Hickman has provided “bonehead guitar riffs,” memorable songs and a spark-plug energy to Cracker since the band debuted more than 30 years ago. Hickman and primary singer-songwriter David Lowery already were friends from Redlands, Calif., when Lowery called him after the implosion of his band Camper Van Beethoven. The ever-lively Hickman digs into the bounty of riffs, hooks and wit that went into Cracker’s self-titled debut album, which includes “Teen Angst (What the World Needs Now).” How did the band raise the bar with Kerosene Hat, propelled by the hits “Low” and “Get Off This?” Why did the formidable rhythm section leave, prompting Cracker to move to the “Steely Dan model”? What’s the story behind Hickman’s arrest after wielding his 1977 Les Paul as a weapon? Listening to Hickman play or speak is a cure for feeling low.

You may know Sally Potter as the groundbreaking English director of such films as Orlando, The Tango Lesson and Yes, but now she also is a recording artist. At age 73 Potter has released her first solo album, Pink Bikini, writing, singing and playing keyboards. The songs look back on her teenage years in 1960s London, when she was discovering her own sexuality, wrestling with shame, rebelling against her mother and finding her artistic and political voices. Speaking from her studio, Potter also reflects on the transformative effect of having a film camera in her hands at age 14, the paucity of female filmmakers when she started and her unwillingness to let age limit her creative pursuits. As she puts it: “Who cares about the calendar?”

Michael Shannon is an Oscar-, Tony- and Emmy-nominated actor who, the night before this conversation, sang R.E.M. songs at the Chicago club Metro. He’s multitalented, thoughtful and fearless, with a commitment to Chicago theater that doesn't wane no matter how high his profile rises. In this probing, good-humored on-stage conversation at the club Space, Shannon couldn’t discuss his prominent film and TV work due to the SAG-AFTRA strike against Hollywood’s producers, so he went deep in other areas, such as: his early ping-ponging between Kentucky and Chicago’s North Shore; his repeated path-crossings with Tracy Letts; how his family life inspired his direction of the upcoming indie film, Eric Larue; what he did when only two audience members showed up for a Hurlyburly performance; what he thinks of the strike; and whether he preps for a concert as if it’s another role. He also performs two original songs that—spoiler alert—are awesome.

Los Lobos was doing its label a favor when it played on what turned out to be a big album: Paul Simon’s Graceland. Why did the band wind up feeling burned? Los Lobos sax/keyboard player Steve Berlin explains. Happier times arrived as Los Lobos hit No. 1 with its cover of Richie Valens’ “La Bamba.” How did they capitalize on their newfound popularity? What was so strange about the recording process for the album The Neighborhood? What key takeaways from that experience led to the Los Lobos’ 1992 masterpiece, Kiko? Berlin takes us inside that creative peak period and explains why the band was behind the eight-ball when it came time to record the groovy follow-up, Colossal Head—and how David Hidalgo may be the most unassuming great guitarist there is.

Saxophonist/keyboard player/producer Steve Berlin played with the Blasters before joining Los Lobos, and he noticed a stark contrast between how those two L.A. bands operated. He stuck with Los Lobos and still plays with them 40 years later. A call-‘em-as-he-sees-‘em storyteller, Berlin recounts a crazy Gregg Allman experience, an ordeal with a bad-decisions-prone producer, and his first experience playing what would become his trademark instrument, the baritone sax, on a celebrated Blasters song. He also discusses Los Lobos' sometimes-messy creative process and his co-production—and eventual falling out—with T Bone Burnett on early Los Lobos records. That conflict led to his being diverted to produce the band’s soundtrack for an apparent B-movie. The title? La Bamba. Berlin serves up so much tasty material, you’ll get a second helping next week.

Booker T. and the M.G.’s were an all-time great band on their own and while playing with such Stax acts as Sam & Dave, Eddie Floyd, Albert King and Otis Redding. Guitarist Steve Cropper, who made every note count, produced many of Redding's sessions and co-wrote such hits as “Mr. Pitiful” and the landmark “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay.” After Redding died in a plane crash in late 1967, Cropper prepped “The Dock of the Bay” and other recently recorded tracks for a series of posthumous albums that Rhino Records has compiled in a new box set called Otis Forever. Speaking from his Nashville home, Cropper tells surprising stories about working with Redding, Booker T. and the M.G.’s, Mavis Staples, the Blues Brothers, Neil Young and more. Play it, Steve!

It's no wonder that Peter Zaremba was the star of the recent Lenny Kaye-hosted Nuggets all-star concert in Los Angeles: He has been keeping ‘60s psychedelic garage rock alive for decades through his energetic work with the Fleshtones as well as his DJ gig as the Psychedelic Count on Little Steven’s Underground Garage. (You also may remember him as host of the 1980s MTV show I.R.S. Records presents The Cutting Edge, a precursor to 120 Minutes.) With the charismatic Zaremba out front, the New York-based Fleshtones made crowds groove and sweat, and they worked to translate that energy to the recording studio. Zaremba discusses the thrills of playing live and making records, the story behind the Fleshtones’ recent Spanish-language hit, his search for Russian surf zombie songs and much more.

With Mike Peters belting out anthemic songs such as “Sixty Eight Guns” and “Spirit of ’76,” the Alarm could rouse an audience no matter the size—and it often was big. “Rain in the Summertime” and “Sold Me Down the River” boosted this Welsh band’s U.S. popularity before Peters broke up the group in 1991 and re-started it years later. In the meantime he was diagnosed with leukemia, and he wrote much of the Alarm’s new album, Forwards, during a recent, harrowing hospital stay. Now he is performing again and reflecting on the concert that changed his life, the folly of kidnapping a journalist, all those U2 comparisons, the lightning bolts of inspiration and how he has created what he calls his own little soundtrack of hope to lead him out of the darkness.

When you want to add joy and beauty to your life, listen to the Roches. There’s magic in these three sisters’ harmonies and good humor and heartbreak in their songs. They are Maggie and Terre and Suzzy, the last of whom is the little sister age-wise, the middle sister voice-wise and the glue personality-wise. Speaking from her New York home, Suzzy Roche reflects on the wonders and challenges of singing with her sisters and dealing with a music industry that thought it could make stars out of them. She also discusses the origins of their "Hallelujah Chorus" interpretation and “The Death of Suzzy Roche”; her standout acting turn in “Crossing Delancey”; and what made Maggie, who died from breast cancer in 2017, so special. (Photo by Albie Mitchell.)

The Los Angeles-based Love had one of the rock’s great first-three-album progressions, culminating in the 1967 masterwork Forever Changes, before leader Arthur Lee started over with an entirely new band. Johnny Echols, Love’s lead guitarist for that classic stretch, had known the enigmatic Lee since they were kids in Memphis who relocated to L.A.,, where Echols played with Billy Preston and backed Little Richard. Love, a rare interracial rock band, debuted with an energetic reworking of Burt Bacharach and Hal David’s “My Little Red Book." The explosive single “7 and 7 Is,” the brilliant, jazzy second album, Da Capo, and the darkly beautiful, acoustic-orchestral Forever Changes followed. Why did Love wind up in the Doors’ shadow? Why didn't Love tour much? Why were session musicians brought in to start Forever Changes? What role did drugs play in the band’s troubles? How did Echols reunite with Lee in the early 2000s and continue playing Love songs after Lee died of leukemia in 2006? Echols sets the scene.