Monday, May 10, 2004

AFTER SLEEPING ON THE SLY AT HIS DOWNTOWN OFFICE,
JOSH FIX SPENT HIS SAVINGS ON RECORDING GEAR.
HE MADE A DEMO, THE REST IS HISTORY.
By Jane Ganahl

Josh Fix has opened for the Who. One big fan (Lenny Kravitz) flew him to New York; another (Eddie Van Halen) calls him sometimes to chat. His self-produced demo -- the source of all the buzz -- won the most recent local Grammy chapter competition and caught the attention of the venerable KFOG, which put the young musician's rough-cut tunes into rotation.

The only boulder on this yellow brick road: The 26-year-old San Franciscan has yet to put out a record. Which means he's a little shy on the basics.

"I've never done a photo shoot before," says Fix, fidgeting. "I don't know what to do with my hands."

He can't seem to get comfortable, as he is positioned by a photographer in front of an iron gate on Chestnut Street, close to his Marina apartment. He mugs, he looks stern. Nothing seems to feel right.

"That was weird," the musician mutters afterward.

This is also his first interview. "I actually practiced what I would say last night," he admits, sipping a Chimay ale at the Grove. "I know, what a total geek."

Like Woody Allen's Zelig, the pianist/guitarist/composer has a strange gift for finding himself suddenly in the glare of the spotlight. Rather than being unnerved, Fix is amused. Take the Who gig as a classic example.

"It was complete, dumb luck. The producers of the Who's tour had seen us (Fix and his band, the Furious Force) at this tiny gig where there were maybe four people in the audience," he says with a smile. "But they really liked us. Right about then, Adam Duritz blew out his voice so we got to replace Counting Crows on the main stage in L.A. It wasn't even our 10th gig as a band."

Just days later, a small gig at L.A.'s Knitting Factory drew a huge crowd ("I guess we made some fans," he chuckles), including the wife of Toto guitarist Steve Lukather, one of Fix's favorites from his youth.

"He called me, said his wife came home with my demo -- said it was some of the best music she'd ever heard. So he listened to it, and told me this is amazing stuff, something no one else is doing right now. So I met him, we've spent time together."

Soon after, he got the call at home from Van Halen, another hero, who got a copy of the demo from Lukather. This time, the icy-cool Fix was less so.

"I thought maybe it was a friend calling, and I told him to quit f -- with me. And the voice said, 'No, seriously, this is Ed Van Halen. I really like your stuff.' I haven't met him yet in person yet, but we've talked on the phone three times."

And then, Kravitz called when the increasingly hot demo found its way into his hands. "He said, 'Hey, I love your stuff. Want to hang out for a few days?' So he flew me to New York and we partied. Being part of his entourage was fun, but it was also really weird."

And a reminder of what he does not value in the music industry.

"I'm not driven by the need to be a rock star," he says, in a slightly hoarse voice accented by both his South African homeland and his New York transplantation. "I got all that partying out of my system by the time I left college. People want a consequence-free lifestyle, and that no longer appeals to me."

Still, he admits, the machinery that goes into gear with a record contract would be helpful in getting his music out -- including his first, seven-song EP, "Steinway the Hard Way," which will premiere at a CD release party Thursday night at the Independent in San Francisco.

"Since the demo won that competition, I've met with every major label," he says. "I've been flown out to New York, L.A. ... But I just don't think of myself as mainstream, and that's what record companies are looking for now."

To compare Fix, who plays every instrument and sings every harmony on most of his recordings, to any artist in the top 40 -- make that the top 200 -- would be an exercise in futility. It would be easier to draw comparisons to vintage pop acts such as Queen and Billy Joel. And Brian Wilson, circa "Pet Sounds" -- a love he shares with other modern one-man-bands such as Jason Falkner and Blinker the Star. Fix also shares Moby's affinity for neo-gospel, and Ben Folds' joy in aggressive key-pounding.

"I purposefully shut myself off from whatever is popular and hip," he says. "I don't try to stay current, I just go with what I like: interesting melodies that both challenge and entertain."

Indeed, a good challenge would be to check out one of the songs available on his Web site (joshfix.com) and try to pry it out of your brain after one listen. "Burn It Down," and "Coma," both from the new EP, are the best of what Fix offers: sweetly soulful, punchy vocals, unexpected bridges, danceable beats and humorously morose lyrics.

"Look at all the dirt on the floor/ that used to be someone we knew/ why should I care if I'm wrong/ if everything ends all the same way /maybe I'll just slip into a coma/ get away for a while."

In fact, there's nothing funny about the heartache Fix has had to endure in his young life. At 20, he lost his best-friend father to a heart attack (his mother died when he was 4). Fix spun out emotionally and ditched his pre- law academics at Bates College in Maine for 18 months of travel and general self-indulgence.

"I was completely freaked out, going through that 'I don't have any parents anymore' life change," he says. "Even though my dad was a lawyer, he had been my greatest musical influence. He introduced (me) to everything from Queen to the classical masters. He knew every opera by Verdi by heart."

He also made sure, when Fix showed early signs of talent, that he was trained in piano and other instruments. Perhaps because of the influence of his late father, Fix had a revelation during his walkabout that music, which had been such an integral part of his youth, was an inevitable part of his future.

"I was working on an oil rig in the gulf of Mexico, rooming with ex-cons -- and reading the biography of Leonard Bernstein. Everything would always come back to music, which made me wake up and say, 'What am I doing? I may not be super talented but I have to give it a shot.' "

Returning to Bates, he informed his counselors that he was switching to music as a major, and for his senior thesis would compose a symphony.

"It was pointed out to me that I didn't know how to do this," he says with a laugh. "They said I was crazy, and would have to take some additional composition classes. But I did it. It became kind of a circus, with TV cameras and such."

Fix's first experience with the world beating a path to his door? Did it ensure his future in music? Hardly.

"I did that symphony as an experiment, because it was in me and needing to get out. Music is just one part of my life. Charles Ives had the best mind- set. He was a prodigy, but purposefully chose not to make his money as a musician so he could be as creative as he wanted to be."

Modestly adding that he's not drawing a comparison between himself and the Pulitzer Prize-winning composer, he notes that they share the same birthday -- 100 years apart.

"And he also lost his dad in his second year of college. Weird, huh?"

Without a preconceived idea about where his life would take him, Fix headed west to San Francisco in 1999 "because this is where the jobs were." His five years here have been the stuff of picaresque legend.

There was the first job at Morgan Stanley that he two-timed with a job at radio station ("I'd sign in at 6:30 a.m. and then at 8:30 a.m. go to my other job, and no one ever caught on"). And, when he finally decided he needed to get back to music and buy some equipment, he moved out of his Mission apartment -- and into his office, at a major insurance company on Market Street.

"I needed to save some money for a digital studio," he explains unapologetically. "I kept everything in the filing room, and I was the only guy who ever went in there. A couple times I overslept on my air mattress and I'd hear voices outside the door saying, 'Where's Josh?' So I'd have to race to put my clothes on. But mostly it worked pretty well! I got all my cleaning done once a week at the cleaners downstairs, and went to 24 Hour Fitness in the morning to take a shower. I was even dating women, but they thought it was funny and eccentric."

Was it worth the few thousand dollars to spend eight months hiding out?

"Of course! I got my digital studio -- and a really good story -- out of it."

Once Fix got his digital studio and learned how to use it, it was like opening a Pandora's box: He began composing and soon had a huge catalog of songs -- at present count, close to 100 are complete. "I think I need to stop writing, because I've got like seven albums' worth of stuff, and I figure my career probably won't be half as long," he jokes.

So far, the music part of his career hasn't paid him enough to quit working -- although he did quit his insurance company job the day the band opened for the Who. He has since gone to work for a startup, Asoka, which provides him with more freedom to do his music.

Fix has also dabbled in film scoring, which has proven lucrative. "I did a score for an indie film ('Redemption') that got bought by a huge studio, so they had to license the music from me. My lawyer added some zeros, and since then I've been able to only work part-time."

Another example of dumb luck? He smiles. "Maybe. I feel kind of guilty sometimes."

He pauses. "I don't want you to get the idea that I see music as something I'm here to exploit. I have a profound love and respect for it; it's the highest form of self-expression."

And what is the master plan for his self-expression?

"I'm telling you, I have no goal and no plan. Of course I'd like people to hear my music; I'm negotiating with independent labels to have it distributed. But I don't expect to ever have a No. 1 single. And that's fine - - I have a pretty cool life. I don't have to work that much and I do music when I can."

Fix smiles. "I mean, this was never supposed to be about anything but getting out and playing in front of people. And having some fun."

He really doesn't see what the fuss is all about.

Josh Fix and the Furious Force 9 p.m. Thursday at the Independent, 628 Divisadero St., San Francisco, a release party for "Steinway the Hard Way." $10. For information, call (415) 771-1421.

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