By Ashley Zimmerman
By Dana Krangel
By John Hood
By Ashley Zimmerman
By David Von Bader
By Sayre Berman
By Steve Brennan
By Ashley Zimmerman
The reissue's accompanying booklet shows that though history seems to have anointed Barlow the king of Sebadoh, it's the all-but-forgotten Gaffney who actually founded the band, wrote the bulk of its early material, and brought Barlow into the fold after he'd gotten the boot from Dinosaur Jr.
"I started the band with Lou playing bass, me on guitar, and then we met Jason [Loewenstein]," the 38-year-old Gaffney writes via e-mail, his preferred method of communication. "There would be no Sebadoh if it weren't for me, period. But when Jason and Lou learned to relax and play their songs in addition to mine is when we fully became a group."
Although he's occasionally been portrayed as a mercurial kook who quit Sebadoh after 1993's Bubble & Scrape because of personal instability, Gaffney split because he was averse to the hype that began to swirl after III and because he was fed up with the power struggles, ego clashes, and money issues involved. In recent years, Gaffney, who lives in San Francisco, and Loewenstein have reconnected; Loewenstein played drums for Fields of Gaffney during a handful of shows in New York last year. And Gaffney hasn't ruled out a III-era Sebadoh reunion. "We might reform for some shows or a tour, but no news yet," he writes.
Until that happens, Gaffney's continuing with his own thing, playing shows that include plenty of songs from III as well as prior Sebadoh albums, in addition to his solo material (including new songs from a 27-track, as-yet-untitled album due this fall). "I have a bunch of records to think up, and would like to reach a wider audience and spend time in studios," Gaffney concludes. "I have at least 20 records to write and release before I'm gone." Michael Alan Goldberg
Tour Good, Chemo Bad
Kirk Rundstrom, 37-year-old songwriter, singer, and guitarist for the Wichita, Kansas, punk-grass band Split Lip Rayfield, has built a career on clever and graphic countryesque tunes about drinking, death, and devastation and has a reputation for blasting through them with a joy as manic as his string-shredding strum. But to quote Merle Haggard, "Things aren't funny anymore." In January, Rundstrom was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. Despite four months of nonstop chemotherapy, the cancer spread to his aorta and lymph nodes. The doctors gave him two to six months. He called off the radiation and started making plans not for a funeral but for another tour (though Florida's out of reach at this point).
Outtakes: I've been dreading this [interview] more than Terri Gross would dread a chat with Gene Simmons.
Kirk Rundstrom: Why?
I've never interviewed someone living under a death sentence.
I'm still alive. If you think about it, we're all living under a death sentence.
Do you have a history of cancer in your family?
I was adopted, so I don't really know. My mother died of cancer at 56 years of age. I saw what chemo did for her.
The disease hit you very hard and very fast.
I had symptoms before I was diagnosed. I was rotating in and out of tours. I'd just done 58 shows in a row. I thought it was because I was singing every night and the pain in my back was from the road. I was healthy. No drugs, no fast food, no alcohol.
Were you a smoker?
I used to do drugs, drink, and smoke. But for the last few years, I've been clean and sober. I know all that stuff had an effect. You are what you put into your body. I'm a firm believer of that.
What alternative therapies are you trying?
I get Vitamin C intravenously, acupuncture, very strict diet, no sugar. I am planning on living and not dying. For the majority of cancer patients, you get diagnosed, it's such a scary thing. The doctor says they're going to do chemo, which is a little bit of hope, and you jump at it. I think chemo is America's form of euthanasia, for the most part.
It can be brutal.
They can't find a cure for cancer. It's ridiculous. One woman with breast cancer can walk into a hospital and she gets chemo and it clears it. Another woman gets the same treatment and it spreads through her body. The doctors don't change the course. They give her the same chemo. I don't know if that's because drug companies took doctors out on a Caribbean cruise and said, "This is the drug we're pushing this year." But if something doesn't work, you have to try something different.