Willie Nile has spent 10 years in the musical wilderness, but now he's back with a new album and his inspiration is as strong as ever, he tells Tony Clayton-Lea
Very few people do urban realism the way Willie Nile does. Wrapping up his tales of street fights, boulevard bums and cul-de-sac romantics, in a kind of Dylan-meets-Clash musical merry-go-round, 58-year-old Nile - a veteran of the late 1970s New York City music scene - has recently come out from under years of fog and shadow.
His latest album, Streets of New York, is the record to thank for pulling Nile out of such unwarranted obscurity; its music and lyrics sting dramatically, its poignant/truculent stance a riposte to mediocrity.
"I've been under the radar for so many years," says Nile in his home of New York. He's a serious man, a thinker, a grafter. A recent family tragedy has even further tempered his approach to the journey he calls life. "And being under the radar for so long is interesting because the plus side of it is that you're able to work at your craft without interruption. I put out my first record [ Willie Nile] in the early 1980s, and that was very well received - the usual thing of me being the 'next Dylan/next Bruce/next big thing' nonsense. I put another record out shortly after - Golden Down. Then there was a 10-year drought where some great things happened but the business end of the music business turned me off."
What happened next is such a hoary old music-business cliché that it hardly bears repeating, but briefly it amounts to Nile having had problems with a former manager, which in turn led to issues with his then record company. It all boiled down to a 10-year period where Nile was effectively tied, bound and gagged.
"I wanted to make music, but all of a sudden I was spending time dealing with the business stuff. I had no interest in that, despite the fact that I knew I had to make money for my family. I thought, screw it, and moved back to my family home in Buffalo." Despite retreating into the comfort and warmth of his family (he is one of eight children, offspring of parents with strongly connected Irish backgrounds), Nile found it impossible to resist the pull of music. He ventured back and forth to NYC, not performing, just writing; approaches to record companies were either ignored or swatted away.
"I couldn't get arrested," he recalls, "out of sight, out of mind. It's a very obvious business, the music one, so I just couldn't get back into the swing of things." Publishing money, along with occasional gigging, helped him and his family get through the hard times. "It was difficult, and if I'd had any brains I would have got a normal job, but I clearly don't have any brains at all."
He reiterates that operating under the radar of perceived success helped: "It enabled me to develop as a writer, and to listen to the murmurs in my heart. It's been up and down financially - some good times, some bad - but over the years I've been lucky to have had the seal of approval from the likes of Lou Reed, Lucinda Williams, Bruce Springsteen, Bono, Pete Townshend - they're each and every one generous and warm-hearted people, very supportive."
He claims that archetypal tunnel vision - a necessity, it seems, of the creative artist - has been more a blessing than a curse. "I love my work. I didn't get into this business to become an American Idol - that was never an interest of mine. I just wanted to make music and to make a living from it. I regard the fame thing as silly. I find it offensive, to be honest, so I'm an outsider to it and that's wonderful, but I'm not an outsider to music and songs and performing."
At the heart of Nile's material is an observance of the world. He receives messages, he says, and so he dutifully writes them down. He doesn't write to schedule, either, but rather when inspiration - which he terms as a phrase, a word, a thought - strikes him. He states that he'll pursue these messages because he knows after all these years what requires pursuing, what's good and what's rubbish.
"As far as my life's journey has gone, from then to now it's been glorious. Has it been a hard road? Sometimes, yet the benefits are there to see. If I had been, say, moderately successful and toured my ass off all these years I might have ended up like the people I see who have been and done just that - fairly uninspiring. The truth is, they've done it too many times. That hasn't been the case with me. When I play I do so only when it means something to me. I wouldn't bother otherwise, I wouldn't waste anyone's time.
"My perspective at this point is that I've been lucky to have avoided a lot of the pitfalls that can happen. My vision is intact - I still feel the fire, whether it's political, world events, man's inhumanity to man, love or humour. Whatever the song is about, things are still alive in me. I wouldn't trade that for anything. My journey is not one of woe, but of persistence."
Willie Nile performs at the Kilkenny Rhythm and Roots Festival on Sat and Sun. Streets of New York is out on Reincarnate Music
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