Hippies No More
The Austin Chronicle 12/2/94
by Mindy LaBernz
Bill Cassis is no hippie. It's one of the first things he says and is, incidentally, one of the few juicy things he'll actually say on the record. You see, not only is Soulhat's guitar player and former manager intent on dispelling the hippie stigma that has tailed this Austin quartet since its earlier, groovier days at the Black Cat - where their long hair, and even longer Dead-like jams cemented their reputation as hippies - he's also keenly aware of the importance of image, whether it be in the form of quotes to the press or the mysterious baubles and trinkets that dangle around his neck.
"Gris-gris," he mumbles when asked the contents of the tiny knit bag that acts as charm for his necklace. Greed Weed? Why, that sounds hippie-ish.
"Na, gris-gris," he says with a trace of contempt. Cocking a condescending brow he asks, "Do you like Dr. John?" Apparently, liking Dr. John and liking Dr. John are two different things. If one liked Dr. John one would know, among other things that his first solo album was entitled Gris-Gris, which means, literally, a kind of voodoo based on African deities and Christian relics (if you're from down New Orleans way). Then again, it can simply be a fetish - a spiritual reminder of sorts.
In any case, Cassis refuses to expound on the subject, saying cryptically, "You'll just have to find out about it for yourself." So the first lesson of the day is not to judge a man by his jewelry. The second, then, is to not judge a band by its covers. Because not only does Cassis want to distance himself from the hippie trappings of his band's black Cat days, when they were known to slip into the occasional Dead tune, he'll go so far as to admit - some of you may want to take the younger hippies out of the room for this - he doesn't even listen to the Grateful Dead.
"I don't want to dog anybody," says Cassis with practiced diplomacy, "but I don't like the Dead." Since Cassis grew up in rural Maryland listening to Texas blues like Johnny Winter, Stevie Ray Vaughan, ZZ Top, and what he calls "mossy music," like his father's bluegrass or National Public Radio's country blues, one could conclude that he perceives the Dead to be butchers of his dear music. However, Cassis refuses to attack the band, insisting instead on saying something positive.
"I could say I love the way they do business," he says. "Those people are some money-making sons of bitches they created something that's amazing, that no one else has created." Something sparks in his deep, green eyes, and reticent, sullen Bill gets enveloped by focused, driven Bill - the Bill who quite successfully took care of business before the band signed on with manager Marc Proct (Jimmie Vaughan, Arc Angels, Storyville).
Cassis rattles off Dead fun-facts like an evangelist repeats the Word. "Grateful Dead Productions has controlled everything from day one, and they've made millions and millions of dollars," he asserts. "They have people who create a lifestyle around their music and their itineraries. I look up to that, but I don't look up to their music at all. And I'm not into the scene."
Another scene Soulhat is less a part of than one would expect is the Black Cat scene which has borne the likes of Little Sister and the Ugly Americans. Cassis says they're all friends, keeping each other abreast of the things different record labels were telling them when they were all being courted. Still, he insists musical tastes differ within the scene. "There are a couple other local bands that have been put on that same neo-hippie plate [as Soulhat]," says the guitarist. "You'll talk to them, and they like the Dead, Santana, and all the hippie stuff. I'm a fan of Carlos Santana - not what comes from his music, but his heart. He's got a huge heart when it comes to his music."
Soulhat's music, especially what they were creating live three or four years ago with Live at the Black Cat (their now hard-to-find, independently-released cassette), and 1992's Outdebox (which Epic rereleased last year), is partly to blame for the hippie moniker; Cassis does not deny that. But he does contend that the band's free-flowing jam ethic was the inevitable by-product of having to fill a very long three-hour Black Cat slot and a young band extending its musical feelers.
"It was a band that was brand new, and trying to explore the parameters of what their capabilities were playing together," says Cassis, trying to lasso the abstract. "And one of the best ways to do it, is to play as much as you can to your limits. You kind of refine your sound as you play together. Many bands cannot play improvisationally, because they've never explored the limits of their communication. There's a lot to be said for just letting the music flow out of you. And it wasn't like we had a plan about how our music was going to develop. We follow a line of what feels good and we go for that.
"That's one of the reasons why everybody was like [deep radio announcer voice]: 'They're doing it their own way. They're turning down record company offers left and right, ladies and gentlemen. They're in Con-Trol! It wasn't because we were trying to do that either. It was just because those things at the time did not feel right so we did not do them."
So Cassis would have us believe that the wildly successful, self-managed career trajectory Soulhat followed when they were still two words, before Epic Records took over, and Mr. big Wig executive producer Brendan O'Brien signed on - way back when every UT sorority and fraternity planned their social calendar around Soul Hat's next trip to the bathroom - wasn't his being savvy. He was merely following his karmic path.
"Maybe I'm a good bullshitter," he says, lighting a cigarette. "Let's say lucky. And lucky meaning someone who's tuned into their path. Things happen for them because they follow that path, and when they deviate from it - like all of a sudden if I want to be a glam rock guy - probably they won't be that successful. But if I take elements of those things that I really like, an d stay true to what feels right and what seems to be healthy for love or music, things usually turn out well."
Kevin McKinney is not very cosmic...
Soulhat Redefines Its Image
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