Rocktambulos Archives: After more than 10 years, here is my unreleased ARIEL PINK Interview

Since 2024, Rocktambulos has been the outlet where I’ve been able to publish a series of previously unreleased interviews with ARIEL PINK. These took place between March and June 2013 on the primitive old Skype, with me as nothing more than an amateur journalist, and ARIEL PINK enjoying the success of his recent Adult Themes (2012).

There are three interviews: one about The Doldrums (2000) – read it here – , another about Loverboy (2002) , and the last one, more general in scope. All of this was originally part of an unfinished book: ambitions that, at eighteen years old, I simply could not carry out in any way.

We present the third interview now because, quite simply, after all these years, the second one—the one about Loverboy—has left no trace. We hope that, someday, it will resurface.

This publication is also a personal redemption: on my part, I want to thank Ariel for his kindness, patience, and support. I consider him one of the very few truly revolutionary artists in contemporary music, and I stand by my words. The evidence speaks for itself. I’m not interested in political correctness or in pleasing anyone: ARIEL PINK agreed to take part in this book project about him.

After many calls and poor – or null – results, he once told me: “I can’t go on if I don’t see, as my song says, ‘interesting results’.” Twelve years later, I hope this result is to his liking—from someone who has covered all of his records since he first began working as a journalist.

THANK YOU, ARIEL!

Facundo Guadagno: Can you tell me a bit about your childhood and early years?
Ariel Pink: I had a pretty typical childhood. My parents divorced when I was two. My dad was a doctor, and my mom worked different jobs—she was a designer for a time, then other things. I grew up in Los Angeles, went to a Jewish reform school, and had my bar mitzvah at 13.

I did one year of junior high in Beverly Hills, and then at 13–14 I went to live with my cousins in Mexico. I stayed with their family for a year, went to the American School there, and came back to L.A. for ninth grade. I finished high school here, then went to UC Santa Cruz for a year before transferring to CalArts for three years.

By the time I was 22, I had already recorded The Doldrums . But in truth, I’d been writing songs since I was eight and recording since I was 15.

FG: What were your early musical influences?
AP: When I was a kid I was into hard rock and metal. Bands like METALLICA, MEGADETH—that was my world. But when I went to Mexico, my cousins were listening to different stuff, and I got into MORRISSEY, THE SMITHS, THE CURE. That really changed me, because I came back to L.A. less of a “metalhead” and more open to other sounds. From there, I just became obsessive. I wanted to hear everything I could—pop, experimental, underground. Recording became my way of learning: every tape was like a diary of my progress.

FG: Did you play in bands before your solo career?
AP: Yes. In high school I had GORILLA with my friends—we would jam in the dark, stoned after school. We didn’t know what we were doing, but we were passionate.

At CalArts I joined BIANCA, with Jason Greer (who later founded Human Ear Music) and John Hansel. That band was more in a STOOGES vein—I played bass. Around the same time I had THE APPALACHIANS with Sonia on drums, which was more raw and experimental, like HALF JAPANESE or THE SHAGGS. I also had ATTENTION and PAPER MACHE.

Earlier than that, back in elementary school, I played with Brian Judah, a child prodigy on piano. He was already recording at a very young age. I was just writing melodies and lyrics in my head, and he helped me turn them into songs.

FG: How did HAUNTED GRAFFITI start?
AP: My first solo tapes were under the name ARIEL ROSENBERG’S THRASH & BURN—super raw, spontaneous, almost unlistenable but very intense. Then came HAUNTED GRAFFITI, which soon became ARIEL PINK’S HAUNTED GRAFFITI.

The name “Pink” wasn’t a deep concept—I just picked it. But HAUNTED GRAFFITI was where I started to consolidate my identity as an experimental pop artist.

FG: How did you connect with Tim Koh?
AP: I knew him from CalArts, but we weren’t close. A couple of years later, a mutual friend, Ed Ruscha Jr., heard me play in Silver Lake, liked my stuff, and passed him a tape. Tim had a label called R. STOP RECORDS and released Worn Copy (2003).

At the same time, House Arrest (2002) and Loverboy came out on a small not-for-profit label called Ball Bearings Pinatas.

Then ANIMAL COLLECTIVE heard Worn Copy, and that led to Paw Tracks taking interest in me. Tim eventually stopped running his label, joined my band, and by 2008 he surprised me by knowing all my old basslines by heart. That was when the band started to feel like a serious project.

FG: Before Before Today (2010), were you recording mostly alone?
AP: Exactly. On everything before, I was playing, producing, and mixing alone. There were some guest appearances here and there, but for the most part it was just me.

Before Today was the first record where a band was really involved. Still, a lot of it was made up of older songs I had written years earlier—like “Can’t Hear My Eyes”, “Until the Night Dies”, and “One More Time”. They’d existed in my head with a different feel, but they survived and worked.

FG: Ethiopian music seems important to you. How did that come in?
AP: Around the late 2000s, Tim and I both got obsessed with Ethiopian music. We’d dig into YouTube, especially recordings from the communist-era ETV broadcasts. It was like their MTV at the time. We also went around L.A. buying cassette tapes imported straight from Addis Ababa.

I’d pick out songs I liked, learn them on guitar, and then we’d build band arrangements around them. It was a big influence on us during that period.

FG: What’s your songwriting process like with the band?
AP: I write everything—lyrics, melodies, arrangements in my head. Then I show the band, and they learn it.

We don’t have one method: sometimes we overdub part by part, sometimes we rehearse and record live. For example, the first version of “Schnitzel” was lounge-y, but I wasn’t happy. So Kenny and I went in one night, plugged directly into the mixing board with no effects, and cut a new version—just guitar and voice, stripped down. That’s how it is: case by case. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast, but always evolving.

FG: Can you tell me about your cover of Donnie & Joe Emerson’s “Baby”?
AP: Light in the Attic Records reissued their record and asked me for a quote. Then they suggested I do a cover of “Baby” with Dâm-Funk. I already knew him, so I asked him, and he was into it.

We got together, the band learned the song—Tim on drums, Kenny on piano, me on guitar, Aaron Sperske on bass—and we recorded it live. I even wrote out the lyrics for Dâm-Funk. He’d maybe heard it once before, but he got it instantly. Very natural session.

FG: What about “Withchunt Suite for WWIII«?
AP: That song goes back to 2001, when I was recording stuff like Scared Famous (2001) and Fast Forward (2001). I actually wrote it the day of 9/11.

That morning I went to work at the elementary school where I was an art assistant, but the guard told me classes were canceled—he said, “You haven’t heard? Put on the radio, there’s been a bombing.” I rushed home, turned on the TV, and started recording the broadcasts, because I knew they’d change the story later.

With the day off, I spent two days straight writing and recording a 16-minute piece. It first came out in 2005 on a tiny label called Melted Mailbox, but hardly anyone heard it. Later the band wanted to revisit it, and for the 10th anniversary of 9/11 we made a new version and a video with Animal Charm.

FG: You also mentioned “One More Time.” Where does that fit?
AP: Same era as “Can’t Hear My Eyes” and “Until the Night Dies.” They all had slightly different vibes in my imagination compared to the way they ended up recorded, but they were strong enough to last.

FG: Do you see yourself as experimental or pop?
AP: Both. I always saw myself as experimental, but I also love pop. To me, it’s about using the same vocabulary as everyone else but giving it my twist.

Frank Zappa did that with THE BEATLES—he parodied them, but also celebrated them. I’m not parodying, but it’s the same idea: nothing new under the sun, just a different attitude with the same chords.