Nick Lowe “The Impossible Bird”

There was a time when Nick Lowe was the guy. Decades before the Buddy Holly glasses and the shock of white hair, he was the hottest property among the coolest cats. He had fronted Brinsley Schwarz, the band that came to define Pub Rock -- a scene which no one was particularly interested in when it was happening but which became all the rage after the fact on account of its influence on Punk and New Wave. He produced some of the most iconic records of the era – arguably the first punk album ever released (“Damned Damned Damned”), in addition to startling debuts from Elvis Costello, The Pretenders, and Graham Parker. He was a gifted songwriter, a raconteur, a ladies man, and a critic’s darling. For several years, it seemed that a month did not pass without seeing his face on the pages of NME, Melody Maker, Trouser Press, or Rolling Stone. Between 1976 and 1980, he was at the epicenter of all things English, Rock and Roll and modern, in a slightly retro way. To know of Nick Lowe was to agree to his hipness.

Beyond his esteemed affiliations, as a solo artist Nick Lowe had a couple of top twenty hits, and made a few acclaimed records before the clock struck 1980. Simultaneously, he co-headed Rockpile, one of the great roots rock ‘n’ roll bands of the era and a band who maintain a considerable cult to this day. In 1979, he married into Americana royalty, landing dual roles as Carlene Carter’s romantic lesser half and her musical producer. That partnership launched an unlikely, but beautiful partnership and two rich solo careers. He was the rarest of things — a bass player who was also a bandleader who was also extremely cool. Before Nick Lowe, there was McCartney and a sea of anonymous bass players on the side. But Nick Lowe shifted perspectives. He was at the center of the scene.

Like so many others before him, however, his time came and went. By the early 1990s, he was foundering – a cult artist without genuine commercial prospects. He and Carter had divorced and Lowe was alone, trying to figure out how it all ended so quickly and what he could do about it. 

In truth, Nick had built a formidable songbook by that point. He’d written and recorded “Cruel to be Kind,” “(I Love the Sound of) Breaking Glass,” “So It Goes,” “I Knew the Bride (When She Used To Rock ‘n’ Roll),” and, most famously, “(What’s So Funny about) Peace, Love, and Understanding.” All of those hits -- minor and major -- have endured. But, it was that last song that established Lowe as a writer for others. Elvis Costello rescued “What’s So Funny” from the dustbin of history and, in doing so, others eventually followed. Johnny Cash, Los Lobos, John Hiatt and many others have dug into the Lowe songbook over the years. But, like so many things, it got moving with Elvis. 

After the demise of Rockpile, Nick formed a fine new band that featured Martin Belmont (ex-Rumour, Ducks Deluxe) on guitar, Bobby Irwin (ex-Sinceros, Roogalator) on drums, and Paul Carrack on piano. By 1982, Carrack had been a singer for Squeeze, where he lent vocals on “Tempted” and later “Loving You Tonight.” He had hits as a solo artist and with the band Ace (“How Long Has This Been Going On”) and would eventually sing lead for “In the Living Years” and “Silent Running” by Mike and The Mechanics. Carrack has a voice the many music fans recognize but few can exactly place. But he shared a stage and his considerable talent with Lowe for several years. Together, they toured and recorded with this lineup (known primarily as The Cowboy Outfit), producing four Nick Lowe records in as many years. It was at the end of this run that Lowe began to recognize that his stardom was slipping away. 

In many ways, “The Rose of England,” the last of the four albums released with this band, was among the very best Nick Lowe records. It is everything we want from him -- earnest, snappy, and direct. But it was not the breakthrough that Columbia Records wanted. In an act of desperation, the company leaned on him to call in his old sidekick, Huey Lewis, hoping that The News might help Nick rediscover his hitmaking ways. The resulting song, however a remake of “I Knew the Bride,” peaked at #77. The album never cracked the top one hundred. It was his third consecutive record that did not crack the top 100. 

It did not take long for Nick to realize that his prior momentum had been lost. Squeeze, Paul McCartney, and Tom Petty all checked in to see if he might produce what became major records, but nothing materialized. Instead, he ended up in the production chair for compelling, but lesser projects, like those of the Fabulous Thunderbirds and the Katydids. Meanwhile, his string as producer for Elvis Costello ended with their fifth collaboration, “Trust.” While now viewed as a classic, it was at the time considered uneven and lacking a viable single. Behind the scenes, Rockpile died a quiet death after four legendary years but only one record under their name to show for it.

Amid all of this stagnation, Lowe’s marriage to Carlene Carter fell apart. The grind of putting out a new album every year was apparently too much for a guy who was never as prolific as it might have seemed on the surface. Elvis’ commercial success was waning, and Columbia Records no longer felt compelled to have him -- and his buddy, Nick -- on their roster. Both artists were dropped when their contracts ran out. Unsurprisingly, other labels courted Elvis aggressively. And Nick, somewhere in between a prestige act and a cheap investment, found himself re-signing to a major label (Reprise) after time in the wilderness. There was the slightest glimmer of hope when Lowe joined Little Village – a rootsy, new wave super-group in the spirit of the Travelling Wilburys, which featured Ry Cooder and John Hiatt. But that project crashed and burned after one underwhelming album in 1992.

Unsurprisingly, Nick was in terrible shape around this time. Technology had reshaped how albums were made. Analog recordings of “live” band performances on record became passe. And so, Nick retired from producing altogether. He was overweight, alcoholic, out of fashion and running out of money. His publicized relationship with actress Margot Kidder flamed out, leaving his practically despondent. In 1987, I ran into him in West Philadelphia while he was on a solo tour of colleges, opening for Elvis Costello. For Elvis’ encores, Nick would come out to sing a duet of “Peace, Love, and Understanding.” It was evident that Elvis cared dearly for Nick and was doing all he could to prop up his friend. Given that their fan bases entirely overlapped, the addition of Nick Lowe to the bill did not help sell extra tickets. But Elvis wanted to support his buddy, who so obviously needed the work and the money. On that tour, I saw Nick backstage. He was in bad shape – well past drunk and in need of a handler. He had done a good set earlier in the night (sober) which included a couple new songs that I complimented him on. I told him that I was looking forward to his next record, which was supposedly just months away. He responded that I shouldn’t be too excited. He confessed that his new record, what would become “Pinker and Prouder than Previous,” was “shit.” And then he stumbled off. 

There is some amount of mythology as to what happened next. In interviews, Nick has said that he took stock of himself, saw that the old act could not continue and then pulled himself up by his own bootstraps. His idea was that instead of looking at himself as an aging musician, out of the zeitgeist, that he would embrace his age and position in life to his advantage. He resolved to write adult songs for adult audiences. There is undoubtedly some truth to that narrative. Minimally, it’s a story that Nick likes to share. And that signifies something. But I believe the real impetus of the change was something that had almost nothing really to do with Nick -- but which benefited him greatly. In the early 90s, Clive Davis was spending much of his time overseeing Whitney Houston’s career. At the time, she was making her film debut in The Bodyguard. They had some sure-hits for the soundtrack but Clive needed to fill out the rest of the album and wanted to use some of his label’s lesser known acts to do so. One of those artists was Curtis Stigers, who was featuring “Peace, Love, and Understanding” in his cabaret act at the time. Clive loved his version and asked him to record it for the soundtrack. While the song never made it into the film, it survived as the tenth song of an album that sold 45 million copies. As the sole writer and copyright owner of the song, Nick Lowe began receiving oversized checks in the mail. Six figure checks. Life changing checks -- for a song that had been written nearly twenty years before for a band that no longer had a record in print.

With that money, Nick got himself out of debt. He stopped drinking as heavily. He lost weight. He let his hair go gray. He found a new girlfriend. He walked away from the grind of having to make records every year. He parted ways with a manager who was less enthusiastic about this new direction. He put together a band of his buddies and recorded slowly and thoughtfully on his own dime, without the pressure of a major label budget hanging overhead. He toured because he wanted to – not because he needed to. He stopped playing older staple songs from his New Wave days, like “Cracking Up,” and “Stick It Where the Sun Don’t Shine,” and replaced them with his more recent, more adult songs – “Lately I’ve Let Things Slide,” “Rome Wasn’t Built in a Day,” and “What Lack of Love Has Done.”

The transition was gradual. “Pinker and Prouder than Previous” had just a few ballads mixed in. “Party of One,” from 1990, however, began the transition in earnest. A few songs from the album, but especially “What’s Shaking on the Hill,” became enduring mainstays of his live sets. Plus, the songs on that record were all Lowe compositions – a good sign. Four years later, he returned with “The Impossible Bird,” his first album since “The Bodyguard” had been released. He was forty-five at the time and finally ready for that big, creative step forward. Of the many excellent tracks on the record, the most famous is “The Beast in Me.” When Nick had been married to Carlene Carter, he became determined to write an original song for his father-in-law. Johnny Cash had previously covered Nick’s “Without Love,” but he wanted to write a signature song expressly for his father-in-law. He quickly came up with a winning title and tune, but struggled to get the lyrics finished. As Nick liked to tell the story, when it came time to sing it for Johnny, June and the Cash/June Carter entourage, his nerves failed. And so, the song languished for many years. 

Even when his relationship with Carlene dissolved, Nick stayed in touch with Johnny and June. He’s said that he was the only former in-law that wasn’t hanging around looking for money or a job. All the while, Johnny thought “The Beast in Me” was worth finishing -- he’d regularly reminded Nick about it. One time, Nick went to see Cash perform live in London. As Johnny was performing, a more sober Nick came to the realization that the song shouldn’t be about Johnny – that it needed to be about himself. After the show, and more than a decade after he’d started writing it, he went home and finished the song in less than an hour. It was a featured track on Cash’s resurgent “American Recordings,” as well as on “The Impossible Bird.” 

Nick was a comfortable, middle-aged man when “The Impossible Bird” was released. It was recorded over a fifteen month period with producer Neil Brockbank, who he’d go on to work with for many more years. It’s also the proper beginning of his “he rocketh not” phase, wherein he makes music specifically for grown-up men and women, from the other side of the mountain. Many of these songs are about the labors of life and love, but filled with Lowe’s trademark cleverness. No more lines like “She’s got a pair of tits that just won’t quit.” Instead, we get ”I’m on a 12 Step Program (To Quit You)” and “Soulful Wind,” with his classic turn of a hook, but more restraint in the performance. “Shelly My Love,” later covered by Rod Stewart, is a gorgeous ballad about missing his girl, while “I Live on the Battlefield,” later covered by Diana Ross, manages to delicately draw the through line from a lost relationship to the aftermath of actual battle. “Where is My Everything” is in some ways the most personal of the bunch -- a plaintive take from a person wondering about what has come of his existence after living the life of his choosing. Though released on a small, indie label and without any traction on the charts, “The Impossible Bird” was broadly hailed as a tremendous album -- perhaps the best of Lowe’s career. It was not a “return to form.” It was more the validation of his new form. Even today, nearly thirty years after its release, it sounds full and relevant and modern.

Life is full of ifs. If “Rose of England” had done better, would Nick have stayed on the hamster wheel? If Clive Davis had had a headache that night and stayed home instead of seeing that Curtis Stigers show, would Nick’s song have been used in “The Bodyguard”? If Nick hadn’t gotten that money to take the pressure off, would he have written so many great songs over the last 25 years? If he had taken Little Village more seriously, would the group have caught on? In the moment, those decisions appear existential. But now, those matters now seem almost inconsequential. Nick Lowe was once a trendsetter. Yes. But that time had come quickly and was long gone. Amazingly, he resisted the temptation to be an oldies or a heritage act. Instead, he reinvented himself, functionally creating his own genre of music -- part Roots, part Country, part Rockabilly, and part Pop. He went from mop-topped, new wave hipster to venerable, white-haired gentleman of Rock. 

Over the course of forty years, Lowe succeeded in the rarest of feats -- he genuinely reinvented himself. He lost some of the audience that only wanted to hear the sound of his early records, but he gained a new audience who appreciated his wizened approach. He was always an outstanding showman, keeping things moving for witty repartee and stories that set up his wonderful songs. But, by the new millennium, his new show was one that a 60-year-old could enjoy, seated next to their partner. Eventually, he remarried and had a son – which only emboldened him to continue to focus on his work. 

In doing so, Nick’s cult-icon status was reestablished. Musicians who had loved his records in high school now had their own bands and wanted to connect with him. Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy is an avowed Lowe fan. Yep Roc Records, who boasted a roster of contemporary Americana and Indie Rock, signed him with an eye on his future as much as his past. He hooked up with hip, surf rockers Los Straightjackets for several successful collaborations. In 2019, “Cruel to be Kind.” a comprehensive biography of his life was written. There are many who believe that his induction to the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame cannot be far away. It is unlikely the life that Nick Lowe expected in 1979. But it’s hopefully the life that he deserves.

by Jim Mason