INSTANT MAG - 1999 by J. Lianna Ness Asshole. That's my first impression of Big Wreck vocalist/guitarist Ian Thornley as we sit down and make small talk in a cozy, dimly lit Italian bistro in Boston's North End. It's painfully obvious he doesn't really want to be here either. I knew he had his protective shield up the minute I walked into the restaurant and saw him sitting there with guitarist Brian Doherty. With his disheveled hair and glassy stare, he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed and wrestled a weasel. "Don't mind me," he says sheepishly. "I just got out of bed 20 minutes ago." But Thornley doesn't offer this explanation as an apology because he's not the kind of guy who needs to make excuses - he just calls it like he sees it. And he's seen a lot of hypocrisy. "We're based out of Boston but I could care less whether or not we're attached to any 'scene'. I'm not seeking credentials from any scene." Thornley is responding to my confession that I'd never heard of Big Wreck until Chris Hinckley asked me to do a story on them, which is even more astonishing considering what I do and the fact that I've spoken and mingled with tons of industry types both in and out of Boston and not once did the name Big Wreck ever come up. "Well, when we first tried to get gigs - I think it was 1994 - all we met with was fuckin' adversity from every level, sector and scene," says Thornley. One promoter told him he only booked national touring acts yet even as he said this, a local garage band was on stage playing to an empty club. "We don't have some sort of cheesy local 'cred' preceding us walking through the door, but how are we supposed to establish that in the first place unless someone helps us out?" Ian continues. "I mean, here we are 3 ˝ years later, and where the fuck is that guy?" He laughs at the thought of it. "I don't know! I've been asking around for him and he's gone! He got canned and now he's probably working at a fucking gas station but look at me!" Big Wreck, which also features Brian Doherty on guitar, Forrest Williams on drums, and David Henning on bass, signed a huge deal for an enormous amount of money and set a precedent as far as getting two countries (Canada - Thornley's actually from Toronto - and the US) together for the same deal. Now he gets to do what he loves most: play guitar. "I don't know why no one would give us a break here [Boston] in the beginning," he pontificates. "Maybe it was my personality, but I don't think so." He pauses to take a bite from his salad. "I think I'm a pretty nice guy." Actually, Thornley did turn out to be a pretty nice guy after all. I think I finally hit a nerve when I admitted that I knew jack-shit about Big Wreck before the story was assigned to me. Honesty and integrity are very important to him. And I can't say I blame him for being so guarded, defensive and mistrustful of the press - he pays very close attention to what's written about him. It's not that he doesn't mind an opinion, he just doesn't like it when someone writes something specific because they want to hurt him. And if you hurt him, you hurt everyone and he never forgets a name. "There's two of them [writers] and I'm still seriously considering writing letters to them! One of them really pissed me off, saying we sound like Bon Jovi and Whitesnake. I don't think he even listened to the record because he said my lyrics were asinine but he misquoted all of them." When I ask him why he thought this guy said that, especially considering the lyrics weren't even printed on the J-Card, Thornley replies, "He was writing for a college paper and was probably the kind of guy that got picked on every day in high school. He was probably the kind of guy who got picked on by a guy like me!" But Thornley wasn't a bully in high school. He was a skirt-chaser, although the only skirts that seem to be chasing him these days are the star-fuckers - "not women, chicks," he coolly observes. He could probably have his pick. He's an attractive, talented guy. But most of the girls who approach him don't care about his talent. "They come up to me and say 'You were so awesome!" Bob (Parč, photographer) and I crack up when he says this because he delivers it in the most dead-on mocking of "Valley Girl" speak I've heard since Moon Unit Zappa annoyed the world with it back in 1982. He doesn't know what to say to these girls. "Let's go out to the van and I'll let you give me a blow job? No thank you!" These women - excuse me, chicks - miss the point entirely. If you want to get into Thornley's van, he jokes that you have to be an existentially-trained groupie and read Nietzche, although he doesn't really like to talk about that. "Trust me. You don't wanna know where my head is at." So we don't even go there. Big Wreck met at Boston's prestigious Berklee School of Music in the early '90s but guitarist Brian Doherty was the only one who actually graduated. "Have you ever noticed that the people that make it from there are the ones that never graduate?" he points out. So what does a music school degree get you? "Nothing! It doesn't mean a thing unless you can kick ass, play and communicate with people on a certain level - and you don't need a piece of paper that says so. But you are exposed to all these different types of music - musicians and great teachers who have a level of knowledge way beyond your years." And because you get to sit down and play for 9-12 hours a day and you're that much better for it. Thornley was 13 when he started playing in a band (with adults - everyone was over-21) but quit because he wanted to play basketball. They wouldn't let him, however, because he was a gifted piano player and they didn't want him to injure his hands. He listened to "folk blues like country blues and acoustic styles" before getting into the electric blues of Buddy Guy. He didn't even get into rock 'n' roll until he was 15 and even then, it was the mellower melodic stuff like Supertramp whom he cites as a major influence "But they didn't influence the way I play my guitar or sing. They influenced me in the way I hear stuff and put it out. They had this way of having the bass play the same thing over and over again but everything around it was changing and moving, like the melody. They did a lot of cool shit. A lot of people didn't get into them so they can't really see it, but that's OK. I understand why someone else might not see it because there's so much other stuff in the way. But when I was seven years old and heard what they were doing, I didn't know what it was at the time but now, because of my education, I can put it into words. But that does take the sense of discovery and mystery out of it." After dropping out of Berklee, Thornley moved back to Canada while the band's demo was being passed around. It landed in the hands of the Tragically Hip's management who suggested he return to Boston and write some more material. So he did, then returned, with the band, to Canada to record 2 ˝ years worth of material in 2 ˝ weeks. "Everything that's on the CD is basically a demo," admits Thornley. Meanwhile, quite a few major labels came sniffing around but in the end they signed with Atlantic because they just wanted to get the record out and Atlantic offered them the most money and artistic control. They also credit their management with keeping them focused, not that Thornley is the kind of guy to sign a piece of paper just because a limo is going to pick him up for dinner and drinks. "The trimmings are great and [being on a major label that supports us] just makes it more comfortable," he adds. In Loving Memory Of… is a great record full of catchy hooks and unabashed chops grandstanding. In figure skating, they'd call it a perfect program: it has all the required elements and scores high points for both technical and artistic marks. It's an exquisite blend of Southern style born-on-the-bayou blues and straight-ahead hard rock. Although each of the 13 tracks could be a hit single in its own right, "The Oaf" is currently enjoying heavy rotation on all the major airwaves and I predict "That Song," with the irresistible chorus of "Man I love that song! I really love that tune! I love that song!" will be the one you won't be able to escape next. And the songs are the bottom line. "As corny as it sounds, I'm on a quest to try to find the perfect song, the perfect change, the perfect album. And then keep making it," Thornley remarks. "It's the beauty that I feel at five or six in the morning when I'm all by myself and I get to move aside and be the spectator - to hear myself playing things I've never played before. It's that feeling that I wanna capture on record and give to everyone else and say 'Here's what it's really all about.'" Spoken like a real visionary. Thornley is on a true quest for something beautiful in his musical art which he playfully refers to as "Wreck 'n' Roll." And he never knows when that "voice" is going to come but it comes in cycles and the only way he can be sure to capture it is to be immersed in it [the creative process] all the time. "That means always having a guitar in my hand. It's like a wave and you can hit it on the way up or on the way down and either way you'll get great stuff but when you hit that apex, man, that's when you get those songs that write themselves in five minutes." Unfortunately, Big Wreck keeps getting lumped in with bands that are nowhere near the caliber they're at - bands with records that generate only one good hit and the rest is filler. The only other band that comes close to what Big Wreck is trying to achieve, in terms of focus and technique, is Radiohead. Thornley adds, "And Jeff Buckley was so talented and had so much room to grow, although I think he was being pushed in a certain direction that wasn't natural for him. There was really a sad, bittersweet element to a lot of things he did. There was an intricate flavor to what he did." The problem, according to Thornley, is that no one is taking their craft seriously anymore. He could, in fact, write a great song on command, but that's just technique. He feels that songs, real songs, write themselves. But most songs today are fully formulaic. And everyone knows the song sucks but they still go for it because they've been conditioned that way. It's easy and accessible and they don't have to even think about it or try to figure it out. "There's almost more integrity in the business end of music than the actual music itself these days," Thornley comments. "I think that the music industry is eventually going to take out its garbage though. There'll be a return to things that are original again but you know what'll happen then? We'll have a bunch of people imitating that and it will start all over again." But hopefully there'll be bands like Big Wreck who are really impassioned about what they do and are willing to work hard to reach that pinnacle of perfection, and that includes being in touch with their audience. "Musicians wanna feel that beauty I was talking about earlier," Thornley states. "And the times that you can do that are so rare and far and few in between, especially in front of an audience. So they [the performers] get really fucked up on drugs because they think it will help them get in touch with them [the audience] but that's a cop-out because all the voices that speak to you are diluted and then it's not pure anymore. It helps them think they're getting it out and they think they're pushing it but it's actually pushing them the other way. The best kind of show, to me, is when the four of us are up there and we start taking the song out a bit and it feels like we're sort of standing on the edge of a cliff, but we know where everyone is going and the audience is included in that too and they get to see it. There's an exchange. And the kinds of conversations that happen after the show are a hell of a lot different than just 'you guys are awesome!'" It would be so much easier for Thornley to be safe and protected by saying he doesn't give a shit. Performers like Beck do it all the time. Beck is talented and there's that I-don't-give-a-shit element to his approach, but you know he actually takes it very seriously and that's what makes him so good. And that's what makes Ian Thornley and Big Wreck so good. He says he doesn't give a shit but you know he does. After the interview, when Bob and I bid farewell to Thornley and Doherty, Bob turns to me and exclaims, "That was intense!" Indeed, it was probably the scariest interview I ever did because Ian Thornley was not about to kiss my ass or try to make nice just to get press or impress. It was so refreshing to hear someone speak his mind without fear of repercussion or judgment. As the saying goes, "The Truth Is Out There." But it's not about aliens and conspiracies. It's about integrity. The truth is, Ian Thornley is a really nice guy - intelligent, gifted and passionate. Modest too. "I'll never feel that I'm successful even when I'm rolling in money," he confesses. He does have a lot of guitars though. And he's proud that he didn't knock any bands "You should be too!" he smiles.