They basically went out of business. But I wasn’t allowed to leave because [label president] Terry Ellis owns my contract. This is the system. Y’know, I thought Prince was kind of an idiot for writing ‘slave’ on his face, but you start to feel that it’s not totally different. I have a record that’s finished and I can’t put it out because I don’t own it. I can’t pay [Ellis] back for the record and I’m not allowed to go make a record for someone else.
And they want to protect you on their roster.
That’s all well and good. But if my record’s supposed to come out in April, and you don’t have financing by, say, January, when the record’s done, and you say that you have every intention of making a separate deal in order to get the record out, the artist doesn’t assume that you’re lying. Now I would. I’m not only bitter on my behalf, but on behalf of every fucking artist who’s out there, ‘cause this shit happens over and over.
Do you feel more comfortable at Geffen, or do you view it as just another means to an end?
Well, Geffen is another record company, but it’s a better record company. At least Geffen doesn’t tell you what music to play—you think that’d be de rigeur—they let the artist take care of the art portion, and their job is the selling part. That’s not the way they do it everywhere. When you hire people whose main concern becomes covering their ass, I don’t see that as good business practice.
Here’s an example: my boyfriend, Michael Penn, had a single off his first album that did incredibly well; he got an MTV award for the video. Right about that time, a new president comes to his label and the first decision he makes is to cancel plans for a second video! You don’t have to know anything about music to know that’s the stupidest thing you could possibly do. What’s going to happen to the second single?
Take me through the recording of the song “Long Shot.”
The main thing I wanted to have in it were drum loops and distorted, layered guitars. One thing My Bloody Valentine did that I liked was they had layers and layers of distorted guitars being taken out and put in. [Producer] Jon [Brion] refused to use loops—that’s why I did “That’s Just What You Are” with someone else, because I really wanted to try it with a drum loop—so instead we had a couple of drummers come in and play as if they were a drum loop.
You divided guitar duties.
The main rhythm guitar is usually mine, the first sound that you hear. For “Long Shot,” Jon put on a lot of different guitar tracks that we sorted through. I’m playing bass on it. We tried a bunch of different people on bass, but they were all too good. I realized what the bass needed was to not groove at all—sort of an anti-groove—because it made it too bouncy otherwise.
How was it working with Juliana Hatfield on the track “You Could Make a Killing”?
She was really professional, one or two takes. I never imagined that she would be so fast and professional in the studio, but Juliana was extremely consistent; you sing a part to her and she’d immediately do it. On the other hand, for Glenn Tilbrook and Chris Difford [of Squeeze, singing on “That’s Just What You Are”], you had to do it over and over. Once Chris and Glenn get it in their minds, they reproduce it live perfectly, in the exact phrasing every time, but it takes a lot of drilling.
Was “Make a Killing” based on anyone in particular?
Kind of. I’d been listening to Oasis a lot and I met [guitarist/songwriter] Noel Gallagher, and when you talk to Noel, read interviews, or listen to the songs, it was obvious that there was this incredible eagerness to become a rock star…this naive belief it would make everything better. That started me thinking about how, when you get something in your head that you think will save you, and how it dictates your every action. So the song is sort of about Noel and kind of about how people go after something, rigidly adhering to their belief that this will make them happy.
Some critics have accused you of always playing the victim in your songs.
It always sounds like I’m complaining about some guy, if you take it that way. I think if people hear a female singing about something, they think it’s got to be about a relationship. Especially me, at this point—they think that’s my thing.
But it isn’t. This record, in particular, is not about relationships I’ve had with anyone because when I was writing it, I wasn’t having any relationships with anyone. A couple of songs hint at that: “Oh, you’re really interesting, but you’re clearly a nightmare, so there’s no way I’m going to get involved with you.”