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Take a right turn off the Dan Ryan Expressway at 18th Street just southwest of Chicago's busy Loop, and you find yourself in the middle of Pilsen, a bustling neighborhood chock full of Latino culture and art.
A little off the beaten Pilsen-path, the buildings become a little more run-down and the streets a little more garbage-strewn and gray. Where some might swear that Pilsen's bloodline thrives east of Halsted Street, there's a small patch of land that's brewing with creativity.
Behind the doors of a grim three-flat apartment building with chipped paint on the front door, the music of one of Chicago's most popular artists breathes. This man, who creates everything from mixed House grooves and pop songs to folk harmonies and dance numbers, moved from his island homeland of Hawaii in the '80s to build a future in Austin, Texas. He had dreams of bringing together a group of musicians to deliver his music to the masses. When the band landed a contract with Columbia Records, Austin proved to be a solid home base. But then things changed.
After firmly planting his roots in folk music and the band drew a large fan base from the University of Texas, Frank Orrall learned the hard way what it means to be a starving artist. The band was dropped from Columbia after not selling enough records nationwide. Orrall realized the version of his band in Austin didn't have the same agenda as him, fired some members and moved the rest of the crew up to Chicago to start all over.
Little did people know that what was to land in the Windy City in 1992 would quickly become one of the city's biggest phenomena in recent years. This musical group would soon find themselves thrust into the spotlight and easily performing to sell-out crowds for stretches of four to five nights in a row. The band, more aptly referred to as a rock orchestra, is Poi Dog Pondering and JAMTV caught up with Frank at his humble apartment located below Poi headquarters in Pilsen. Sitting in an oversized chair beneath homemade art, posters and postcards, sipping home-brewed coffee with cinnamon sprinkled among the beans, Frank talked about what life holds for him, the future of the band and what ties it all together.
JAMTV: Five years ago, you guys were in Austin, on Columbia, had three records out. Five years later, in 1997 you were sent down to the minors and started your own label, Plate-Tec-Tonic. You're in Chicago. You had a hugely successful album with Pomegranate. You just released Liquid White Light. You seem to be in a position to take over the music world. What do the next 5 years hold for Poi Dog?
Frank Orrall: I don't feel that we're really in a position to go much farther than we are. This is fine with me because I love the place that we're at. I am able to make records unhindered by anyone else. We're thinking about putting out a record from sounds of Hawaii, streams, waterfalls, wind, which will be nice to make. And no one can say to me, 'do you think that's a good move right now?'
With that in mind, do you think that you'll ever again sign with a major label?
I will never sign with any label again. I will sign a distribution deal with a label. I have already been there twice and I like too much the way things are happening right now. Nobody could ever own me again inside the music biz.
That's got to be a good feeling.
yeah.
What were your feelings when you dropped from Columbia?
At first, it rearranged our realities; like 'what are we going to do now?.' But at the same time there was a sigh of relief. We were sending them demo tapes and they were doing nothing but screwing with us and telling us to send them more.
So what's to come?
In the next five years, I can only focus on the next record. I look forward to making the next record because normally, I work on the bare bones and bring them into rehearsal and we all work on arranging them - we just push and pull them. With Pomegranate, I had an idea of how it was going to feel. This time I am purposely not going to do that.
Do you create all the music?
I feel like we're in a complete band unit, where I am surrounded by amazing players. I feel like I haven't yet allowed them to come forward the way they can. I am trying to step back and we're all going to write the record together. I'm really excited to hear what that's going to sound like.
So everyone will have a voice. But as far as singing, you're the guy in the center?
I am pulling back from that some. I will continue to write the lyrics, but I like the idea of trading off vocals.
What will happen when you go back into the studio?
The way we're going to do this record, is I want everyone to go in alone and lay down their own tracks, like I want Steve (Goulding) to go in and lay down some tracks. Leddie (Garcia) can do the same thing. Susan (Voelz) can go in and multi-track violin and make these melodies. Martin (Stebbing) and I will take it all and make a loop out of it and stitch them together. The record will either be this weird sampled collage, or it will be the sample for the song that we all learn and play together and re-record it. I have asked people to completely divorce themselves from asking, "Does this sound like Poi Dog?" Because they already know what Poi Dog is and they don't need to think that way. They already are Poi Dog. The sound, the philosophy, the heart - it's already happening. They can write the lyrics very un-Poi Dog like.
Do you think that people who grew up with you when Poi was in Austin, who haven't heard you for years, have a hard time getting into the new sound? What can you say to them to make them see this is who you are. You're still the same band, but you're moving on.
I think I'd be doing a great disservice if I were just trying to write songs that were like the sound that they first enjoyed. If I were to continue to write the next "Fall Upon Me," I'd be doing a disservice. At the time, I was totally in my heart and head when I wrote "Fall Upon Me." I was in the moment. I think it's important to continue to listen to that spark and continue writing from that space. There will always be people who will drop away.
Right now, you seem to be moving into a techno and an ambient phase and a free-form way of playing.
I call it more House than techno. House has more heart to me because it has more of an organic underpinning.
You just brought up organic. How much of that has to do with growing up in Hawaii?
You hit it on the head completely. It has everything to do with it. Being in the ocean - I consider the ocean taught me, in the most fundamental way, life's natural order. Being tossed around in the waves, knowing that they could take me at any time. Knowing that I had this spark, but I was insignificant at the same time. Lyrically, it permeates everything.
Do you feel that you were born into the water and that Mother Nature is somewhat of a guide in your music?
I think that through everything that you do in your life, every creative endeavor, everytime you strive to put things together for yourself, in a way you're kind of re-creating and getting back in touch with those first three dramatic experiences in your life interacting with the world. I was asking myself, "What am I trying to do with this life?" Basically asking, "What is this life?"
Have you figured it out?
No and I don't think I ever will but that's part of the beauty, is the constant unfolding. When I moved up to Chicago, I didn't know how long I would stay, but I just knew I had to. When I got here, there was lot of self-examination. I realized that the version of the band in Texas was not healthy. I was afraid to dismantle it because it was just a hard thing to do. But then I realized, "I have to do it." So I made the hard decision to fire a few people. And when I did that a couple of people decided to quit. It was at the end of a long hard period, and the only people left were me, Susan and Max (Dave "Max" Crawford).
You do a lot with the community, but AIDS research - why is it important to you?
We just made a choice to focus somewhere so we feel like it adds up and we feel like we're putting some attention (in one place). There's massive support for the gay community inside of Poi Dog, not that AIDS only affects the gay community but it's severely battered it. But the next thing we'll probably shift over to is something that has to do with the inner city. Right now, race relations, racism -- race economic politics is one of the most serious and seriously neglected things that's affecting the States in so many ways that people don't even realize. Like with House-O-Matic (a dance troupe from Chicago's South Side), they're letting us experience so many things about the black experience, something that I know so little about. I am only now realizing how the trust (between black and white relations) has been strained with giving the black community the short strip. Black kids from the inner city really take a long time to figure out if I'm for real or not. They really want to check me out and I don't blame them. It teaches me how seriously that needs to be addressed.
So you want to do your part to try to restore some of the trust?
If by the end of the day, my experience and understanding is enriched and taken to another level, then I am happy for that. Bobby (Robert Cornelius, a singer with Poi Dog) and I were talking the other day about probably the most important and life-lasting experience is not just knowing people inside the black or white community and different sexual communities, but working together. It's one thing to have a friend who's gay, it's another to work with that friend and say something that's inappropriate, and for them to say, "I still love you, but that's inappropriate." You learn. That's one of the most important things happening with Poi Dog, it's a microcosm of the world as it actually is - mixed race, mixed sexuality.
What is Palm Fabric Orchestra?
It's a very free, new music, instrumental outlet. We did a few shows here (Chicago) but it was really Poi Dog's interpretation of that stuff. If we could do a show, I'd want to do it in a church or a place where people could sit or lie down and just enjoy the music.
Outside of Chicago, where do you feel you have the most loyal following?
San Francisco (sells out shows there), [Washinton] D.C., New York, St. Louis.
Now a little deeper question -- how is the Poi Dog and what is he Pondering?
I don't know. You have to get more specific than that. You're pushing me out on a plank (Laughs heartily)
What's the philosophy behind it all?
On one level, there's the community of it, which is really important to me. Giving ourselves over to this thing which is much deeper. I look at songwriting almost as a sketch - you're trying to put order or describe something for yourself. You put the pieces together in a certain way and go "is that it?" Then you keep rearranging and go deeper and try to get some understanding for what this life and experience is. And sometimes that can be simple and playful, like "Toast and Jelly," and sometimes it can be like "Bury Me Deep." I want to get away from writing songs that say, "this is what I feel. This is what I think." Now that I am getting older, there's not really a need to say that. These are some ideas I have. I have a lot more respect for the subconscious. I want to write more for the dream state. A big thing about Poi Dog is about following your heart; musically following that. I try to keep focus on that and always do what I love. A signal I want to send out into the world: Do what you love because then you'll be happy and everyone else will feel that from you and get that from you. Everything spirals outward into the community from there.
Where does it all come from, Poi Dog's roots, that is?
When I first named a cassette of my first original songs that I gave to family and friends, I called it Poi Dog Pondering. In Hawaii, a Poi Dog is a mutt. I felt like a mutt, pulling from all different inspirations. And naively, sort of wearing it all it on my sleeve. It was always pondering, 'well, what is this life.'