A Conversation with Black Rebel Motorcycle Club’s Robert Levon Been – HuffPost 10.8.14
Mike Ragogna: Robert, your dad’s group The Call was a pretty successful and admired group. First of all, what are your personal thoughts about The Call and its influence and legacy, especially involving your dad’s involvement?
Robert Been: I guess it’s strange growing up in all that, because I saw just how much my dad worried and cared so intensely about how or if the music will reach people. I never once got the impression he thought he was successful, or admired really–except for a small dedicated cult following. To be honest though, I guess my impression of The Call was just of a struggling band who never really caught a break, and it was kind of heartbreaking in a lot of ways, because their music was a beautiful and rare thing.
MR: Although on a personal level, this has to be a beautiful and cathartic experience for you, was it at all challenging to be, in a way, standing in for your dad on The Call Live Tribute with Robert Levon Been?
RLB: I’m just lucky that I didn’t know what I was doing, otherwise I probably would’ve scared myself straight. It only dawned on me much much later how hard it was all going to be, more of a cathartic trial by fire I guess.
MR: What did Robert Levon Been add of his own identity to the live performances? While you were performing the songs, did you have the attitude, “This is for you dad!” or was it more about being in the moment, not really conscious of the event’s bigger meaning?
RLB: Well, we all lost him a long time ago, and there’s nothing anyone can do to bring him back. Music is a deceiver, it can transform time and space and allow you to travel inside it but your still gonna end up back in Kansas when the dream is over. I guess the trick is to not dream alone.
MR: Do you think he would have been proud of what made it on to the tribute release?
RLB: I don’t know, the only thing I’m actually 100% sure of, is that he would’ve never guessed in a thousand years that this show would happen. Partially because I had never even learned one of his songs in all those years. Not even in a lighthearted way thumbing around. I was always so busy doing my own thing that I just never had any interest to stop and look backwards. His music always felt like my childhood to me, it was always so engrained and entangled in the past that all I wanted to do was leave it behind. Don’t get me wrong, I respected his music deeply but I guess I never really let it show.
MR: Did you and your dad “jam” together and what did your he teach you about music or pass on to you creatively?
RLB: None of us could really keep up with him actually, he would wipe the floor with us. He would casually sit down and play something on the bass or piano that would literally make your hair stand up. Which is probably how I got my look.
MR: Did any of that make it into your group Black Rebel Motorcycle Club?
RLB: There’s actually only one song that he and I ever sat down and worked on together, and I’m kind of intimidated to go back and see if I can finish it. I’ve been debating it for some time now.
MR: Is there anything you discovered about you, your father, The Call or music in general from the experience?
RLB: I know nothing.
MR: What advice do you have for new artists?
RLB: Don’t trust anyone over 30… and don’t bother with anyone younger.
MR: Is this advice you would have been able to hear when you first started and what is the best advice your dad or anyone ever gave you?
RLB: It’s funny, whenever I would do something really well, Michael would always say “Beware Of Losing Your Amateur Status.” That was his big motto in life. So I’d have to say if you at least know that much, you’ll be way ahead of the game.
MR: What’s in the future for both The Call and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club?
RLB: The Call are talking about possibly going all the way and playing more shows, and maybe even recording new songs. Whether I’m able to fill in or if they find a new singer – we’ll see what comes. As for BRMC though, we’re gonna to see how many leaves we can make fall from the tree, with one look and a heart full of trouble.