Steve Wynn:
Rocker And KDVS Alum Extends 20-Year Wynning Streak

By DUNCAN STRAUSS

Well, let's see, as 2001 gives way to 2002, this is as good a time as any to take stock of what's happened with singer-songwriter-guitarist Steve Wynn in the last year or so.

For starters, the former Dream Syndicate maestro released his latest solo record, "Here Come The Miracles"--a double-disc masterpiece that's probably received the best reviews of his career (which is saying something; you'll see what I mean later), collaborated with Rhino Records on the re-release of the Syndicate's landmark 1982 debut LP, "The Days Of Wine And Roses," and embarked on triumphant tours of America and Europe, all of which solidified Wynn's longtime position as a poetic and eloquent auteur of smart, dark-hued psychedelic rawk.

Not bad for an ex-KDVS disc jockey and one-time program director. Indeed, KDVS is hardly an incidental part of the Steve Wynn story. Hell, Wynn himself would probably be quick to support the notion that the always-cool and singular radio station was a crucial part of his rock 'n' roll environment immediately before--and during--making his own contribution to great,vital rock records. And, he (or any other fervent rock fan hanging around Davis at the time--like me, for example) no doubt would be similarly quick to add that KDVS spawned many of Wynn's partners in creative crime, that at the time, there were six degrees (or less) of separation between 90.3 FM and several folks who went on to make some powerful, influential and heralded rock 'n' roll.

A perfect case in point is Suspects. That would be the Davis-based precursor to Dream Syndicate. (For Wynn, pre-Syndicate there was also 15 Minutes, which existed for about 12.) The line-up for Suspects included Wynn on guitar and vocals, singer Kendra Smith, Steve Suchil on bass, guitarist Russ Tolman and drummer Gavin Blair. Wynn, Smith & Tolman (either under his real name or the alias Dexter W. Deadbolt) were all KDVS jocks, and, perhaps not surprisingly, routinely did some of the station's best shows at the time; telegraphing his proclivity for lean, no-frills, pithy music, Wynn dubbed his show "3-Minute Rock And Roll," and most of the songs he played clocked in at that length--or shorter.

Suspects played a number of shows in Davis, Sacramento and San Francisco, sometimes headlining, but mostly opening for local or touring acts, like The Pop or The Specials. The band also released a single "Talking Loud" (with "It's Up To You" on the flipside), which received solid airplay on KDVS, naturally, and has become something of a collector's item, especially for Steve Wynn completists. At this point in their career, the Suspects had at least one other notable KDVS tie: They were managed by Connie O'Donnell (now known as Noel Stephens), who was not only a KDVS DJ, but also the station's highly-regarded music director. Suspects was a neat little band, with a neat little career, but as is often the case with a collective of fledgling rock artists, it now serves primarily as a historical footnote to a larger story of larger achievements.

Wynn and Smith went on to form the first incarnation of Dream Syndicate, which was born after they both migrated to Los Angeles, while Tolman and Blair later played in True West, a highly-acclaimed Davis-based outfit. (Other notable Davis- bred bands with KDVS ties from that era include Alternate Learning, Thin White Rope and Game Theory.)

It's safe to say when Wynn and Smith arrived in Los Angeles, they hit the ground running: Within a year of exiting Davis, they'd quickly assembled the Dream Syndicate--he on guitar & vocals, she on bass, joined by guitarist Karl Precoda and drummer Dennis Duck--and were knocking on the door of rock 'n' roll in 1982 with a calling card in the form of a self-titled EP; later that same year, they burst through that door with a big ol' battering ram called "The Days Of Wine And Roses."

That album immediately seized everyone's attention, for all the right reasons. The rock landscape at that time was littered with frosty synth-pop acts or "new wave" bands sporting skinny ties and even skinnier songs. So the sonic assault launched on "Days''--beefy blasts of guitar, frequently drenched in feedback, supported by solid, often-swaggering rhythms, and topped by Wynn's Reed-y bark--hit with blast-furnace intensity. The Syndicate sound most commonly drew comparisons to the Velvet Underground and the Crazy Horse side of Neil Young. Less frequently mentioned, but also figuring prominently in the mix were alt-rock forebears Television and Big Star.

The songwriting was smart, literate and more than occasionally dark. It had real substance and heft, further distinguishing the Dream Syndicate from the zillions of wimpy, faceless or otherwise lightweight groups making records and clogging the airwaves then. For the same kind of reasons, the Syndicate also stood as the preeminent member, if not the leader, of the so-called Paisley Underground scene, consisting mainly of L.A. bands that were similarly pursuing 60s-influenced, psychedelia-tinged, guitar- oriented rock, but yielding lesser, lighter results.

And this thumbs-up didn't just come from their peers, or rock fans seeking sustenance, and thrilled to find it. Rock critics went nuts too, all across this country and in plenty of other countries, as well. But perhaps the most enthusiastic acclaim came pouring from the critics in their backyard of Los Angeles, not exactly known then or now as pushovers. But there were loud, prominent raves, and lots of 'em--I believe the Los Angeles Times named "Days" best album of 1982 in its year-end poll of the paper's critics and contributing pop music writers.

Needless to say, perhaps, it was an enormously exciting, grand time. Still, not long after this, Kendra Smith left the band to pursue her own career (see Clay Allison, Opal, etc.). And, while the Syndicate continued to make excellent records-- arguably, one or more of their subsequent efforts is at least the artistic equal of "Days," but that's another article for another time--and make personnel changes, and finally called it a decade, disbanding in 1989.

Wynn rather quickly shifted into a solo career, turning out some excellent records, including the very first one, "Kerosene Man" and also participated in a number of side projects, like making records and performing shows in Danny & Dusty (with Dan Stuart, leader of Green On Red, another Paisley Underground stalwart) and Gutterball (with members of House Of Freaks, The Long Ryders, etc), among a zillion one-off and other undertakings.

But nearly 20 years after hitting the heady heights and rave reviews surrounding the release of "The Days Of Wine And Roses," that zealous acclaim was echoed both for that same Syndicate record and for the solo Steve Wynn.

In the Spring of 2000, Wynn released "Here Come The Miracles," a sprawling, 2- disc set with a cover tag that declares that this is "Steve Wynn's Exile On Main Street, his Zen Arcade, and, yeah, his Physical Graffiti”--a statement that is simultaneously tongue-in-cheek, bristling with bravado and, as it turns out, pretty damn accurate. Heck, after a few dozen listens, the same could be said for the title. Indeed, while you'd think choosing that title and making a double-album practically invites critics to come gunning for you, "Miracles" has generated a whole new pile of flat-out raves: Jim DeRogatis of the Chicago Sun-Times called it Wynn's "strongest album in a decade," Rolling Stone's David Fricke said it sounds like "Townes Van Zandt hitchhiking with Crazy Horse," and Bob Mehr of the Phoenix New Times was positively expansive, writing that "'Miracles' is a grand, sumptuous statement, simultaneously forward looking and anchored by nostalgia. It is, quite simply, the best album of the year, but more important, it succeeds 'Days' as the highlight of Wynn's rich catalogue."

Wow!

But even someone less effusive, but who appreciates no-frills rock that's brainy and heartfelt would be hard-pressed not to gush about "Here Come The Miracles."

OK, so Wynn is the only KDVS alum aboard here, but otherwise the musicians are stellar, featuring such fine, feisty and like-minded players as ex-Come and Codeine guitarist Chris Brokaw, the sleek and muscular rhythm section of Dave DeCastro and Linda Pitmon, and former Green On Red keyboardist Chris Cacavas.
They erect a sweeping variety of rock backdrops--the chugging, bouncy organ- oriented “Let’s Leave It Like That,” the title track’s charging distortion-drenched guitar (and sitar!) freak-out, and the gently loping distant cousin of Philly-soul-meets- The Beach Boys called “Morningside Heights” to name just three of 19--over which Wynn spins an assortment of rock-noir yarns.

While the “Miracles” music covers tremendous ground, much of it still boils down to lean, mean garage rock--in the very best sense of the term. In fact, far more than Wynn’s previous solo efforts, this record includes several tracks that share a close sonic kinship with the freewheeling Dream Syndicate sound, not the least of which is “Shades Of Blue,” which even has a lyrical nod to “Days” (“...in wine and roses...”).

But the similarity is pretty superficial--to suggest such tunes would be interchangeable parts would grossly overlook Wynn’s continued, significant growth as a songwriter. (Not that anyone would look down their nose at Syndicate classics, least of all Wynn, who helped with the Rhino re-release of “Days,” which features extra tracks--and divided his recent live shows into half solo material and half “The Days Of Wine And Roses,” played in its entirety.)

Twenty years ago, he might’ve written a song that sounded like “Shades Of Blue”--hell, he wrote a bunch of ‘em--but not that says what it does, speaking in the rich, reflective voice of someone who’s lived awhile and changed a lot.

But Wynn’s tremendous songwriting gifts and accomplishments--and that wisdom--may be presented in their single best shot on the album’s closing piece, “There Will Come A Day,” what may strike some as a classic case of saving the best for last. In the the first half of the song, Wynn ponders the people who’ve screwed him in his life, and his initial, knee-jerk response is retribution (“I found myself on my knees/Wishing pain and suffering/On all my enemies”). In the hands of a different writer, or a different Wynn, the song might’ve ended there. Instead, he switches gears, veering toward tolerance and forbearance, if not forgiveness:

But as I made my wishes
And as I cast my spells
I stopped myself and said a prayer
And said these words to myself
There will come a day
There will come a day
When all of the evil
Will be washed away
The patient will be rewarded
And all their tormentors will pay.

These words are enveloped in a wonderfully spirited, uplifting tune--roiling rhythms, slithering slide guitar, swelling organ fills--and the very last sounds you hear are some final organ notes and people applauding. Whether they’re clapping for the song, the album, or Steve Wynn is unclear, and couldn’t matter less.
All you know is that you feel like clapping too.

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