An Update from Letters'
Singer, on the Road in Texas

by Carly Carioli

     If  you  really  wanna  know  the  difference between  Letters  to 
Cleo's   debut,   Aurora  Gory  Alice,  and  their  new   Wholesale Meats  
and   Fish   (both   on  CherryDisc/Giant), take a  gander  at  the 
opening  song  titles  from  each  -   "Big   Star"   and   'Demon Rock." 
You'd   never   guess   that   the   same producer,   Boston's    Mike   
Denneen,    could have  been  involved  with  both.  The  first  CD was 
thrown  together   in   two   weeks   as   a last-ditch  attempt  to  keep 
 the   band   from breaking   up;   for   their    new    thunderous
bubblegum   shudder, they  had two months and  a  freshly  squeezed  
major-label   budget; they  were   stoked   on   new-found   possibilities 
for  success.  And  they  probably   rocked a  little  harder   knowing  
AC/DC   were   down the hall recording with Rick Rubin.
     And,  yes,  frontgirl  Kay  Hanley  talked   to AC/DC's  Brian  
Johnson.   Perhaps   they   discussed  the  finer  points of   dressing
half your  age.  All  Hanley's  saying  is,  "it   was amazing."   Which  
doesn't   explain   why   she insists  her  band  are  wusses.  See,  the 
last song  on  Meats  and  Fish  (and  one   of   only two  that  doesn't 
pack  an   ass-kicking   wallop)  is  called  "I  Could   Sleep   (The  
Wuss Song)." But it's still  less  a  wuss  song  than Weezer's  'The 
Sweater  Song,"   a   tune   Letters  played  live  on   a   whim   just  
before those  annoying  Happy Days wanna-bes got real big.
     Anyway,   back   to   why   Letters   to   Cleo want their own spot in
wussdom.      
    "Because   in   essence,   that's    what    we are,"  says  Hanley, 
on  tour  in  Texas.   "But in  a  good  way.  Most  of  my  favorite  
bands are, at  heart,  really  faggy  pop  bands:  Redd  Kross, Gigolo  
Aunts, even the    Figgs. When you  get  right  down  to  the  essence  of
what they do, it's this  real  melodic,  beautiful, songwriting thing.    
"As   opposed   to   the    cock-rock    thing that's so popular with  the 
kids  these  days," she slyly adds.
     OK,  so  maybe  they  really  are   pop   wusses,   but   on  
Wholesale   Meats   and   Fish, they're  wusses   with   cojones.   And  
heart, Aurora   Gory   Alice   had   more   melancholy, musically 
speaking,  but  even  with  all   the fuzz-guns  blazing,   Meats   and  
Fish   occasionally stakes out  a  dark,  captivating  corner cluttered
with  naivete,  betrayal,  grief, and guilt. In particular, there's  "St. 
Peter," which   begins with a suffused,   brooding moodiness  and  quickly 
ascends to a tense, shrill hysteria,  Kay's  voice  tugging  at  the back
of  the  melody  until  she  rips  it  wide open,  even  though  in  the 
song  she's  still begging to be let in. 'St.  Peter'  is  a  sad one,  and
 'Pizza  Cutter'  is  kind  of  a  sad one  even  though  it  sounds  
really   happy," says Hanley. "I had a  friend  that  died  of  a drug 
overdose  two  years  ago  when   we   got back from a  tour.  She  died 
and  left  behind a  daughter.  It  was  very  sad.  A  couple  of songs
came out of that."
     So  is  she  afraid  to  perform those songs? "No, it's  kind  of 
cathartic.  Songwriting  is a good cleansing tool, I think. I  can  get 
rid of all that crap.
     "I  guess  I'm  kind  of   afraid   because   I really like this
record. I  feel  like  this  is the  best  thing  we've  ever  done,   and 
 I'm really  proud  of   it,"   says   Hanley.   "I'm afraid  of  people 
criticizing  it,  and   I've never really  felt  that  way  before.  I 
mean, if people criticized  Aurora,  in  the  back  of my  mind  I  though
that Aurora deserved to be criticized.
     "I've hated everything   we've recorded [up until Meats and Fish]. I
think  it [Aurora  was  really   good   considering  the  resources   we  
had available  to  us. And let me  clarify, I still really enjoy playing
pretty  much   every  single   song that's   on   that record, but just the
  way    it sounds - when we  made  it, it was not really destined   to  
do what it  did.  Had it   remained  an independent  release, stayed 
local,or stayed small, that's  one thing.  But  we're talking this thing
has   sold   over 130,000    copies. To   me, that's weird."
     But    the    decision to  make  Aurora (originally   released   by  
Boston's    CherryDisc) their  major-label  debut  was  made   by   the
band,  right?  "When   we   were   talking   to various labels, it  was  a 
prerequisite  that they be willing to  pick  up  Aurora  and   help
CherryDisc. SO  we  sort  of  made  it  happen, in a sense. All of the 
decisions  we've  made, we've  made  them.  So  come   hell   or   high
water, we sort of have  to  stick  by  the  results.  Like  the  Melrose 
Place   thing.  We asked to do that, and lo and behold.... .she laughs.
     Lo and behold, they're  poised  at  the  put-up-or-shut-up 
crossroads,   where   the   hype at  their  backs  could  just  as  easily 
plow them  into  the  ground  as  thrust  them  into MTV  heavy  rotation. 
There are no   plans
for  a   Melrose   Place   (where   "Here   and Now" got  its  push) 
follow-up,  or  even  the benefit  of  first  building  up  hometown 
momentum as  they  did  with  Aurora's  "I  See," the CD's  first  single, 
which  got  extensive local radio play. The video for Awake"    is primed 
and  ready  ("I'm  wearing  fake   eyelashes again,  and  then  we  have 
this  story line involving a sleepwalker,"  says  Hanley).
They're  on  the   road   with   Ned's   Atomic Dustbin  and  Sponge 
("They're   really   nice guys, and they put the asses  in  the  seats"),
and recently played  New  Orleans  ("the  first time  I've  been  to   New 
 Orleans   that   I haven't been  tripping  on  acid").  But maybe Demon
Rock  an a Cajun  trip  are  all  they need right now.