Henry Rollins: World Traveler, Photographer, Ice Cream Man. Part 1 of an Interview with the Legend

photo of Henry Rollins by Kevin Morra

Henry Rollins needs very little introduction. Chances are he's caught your attention in one of his incarnations, whether it be his first wave of fame with punk pioneering head-smashers Black Flag, or his later endeavor Rollins Band, or with one of his many startlingly passionate spoken word recordings. And if he didn't get your attention that way, there's a good chance you'll recognize him from one of his many television appearances or documentaries, or perhaps you are familiar with his work taking phenomenal photographs of some of the world's least-known places? Either way, the always-interesting Rollins will soon be regaling us at Fun Fun Fun Fest, so we thought it wise to catch up.

Without further ado, this here is part one of a sprawling and thoughtful three-part interview, this part being about his current responsibility to the world's lesser-known corners, and his last "real job." Stay tuned each of the next two Tuesdays for part two, about the likelihood of a Black Flag or Rollins Band reunion tour, and for part three, about the "warrior gene" and the ethics of gene therapy.

So you were recently in Haiti and described some terrible things there. I know you've said in the past that you don't feel like public figures necessarily have an obligation to espouse their politics, but do you personally feel a certain responsibility to try to make these types of situations more known?

Yes—and this is kind of hard to articulate because it makes me sound like I'm self-important, and I'm not trying to be—but I have access in that when I speak a lot of people will listen. And so to me, to make good on the trust those people have, basically in the shares of stock they have in Me Inc., I try to bring them good stuff. So if I'm going to go onstage and wear them out for two hours, I want to sling some very nutritious hash. And the way I endeavor to do that is to go as far and as wide as I can and bring back stories from North Korea, from Tehran, from Islamabad. Not Hawaii, Frankfurt, and Brussels. And I'm not putting any of these places down. I'm just saying it's not that much of a stretch to go those places. The other ones, big frickin' stretch! Very emotionally draining, and you come back knowing you got put through something. And I think that's good. I want that. That's what I want. The photos represent it, but what I see on the ground, what I learn gives me some kind of, in my own mind of course, some justification for “Why should we listen to you?” Why? Because I've got something to tell you that you couldn't tell me. That's why. And I went 8,000 miles to get that nugget. So yeah, I want two hours of your life every 15 months. That's how I justify selling you a ticket to see me. Putting a price tag on that book and saying “yeah, you should get that book.” [Ed. Note: here's a link to the book, Occupants.]

And so I feel an obligation as someone with means to not squander it by just trying to meet chicks and get high. I take my hard-earned, and I buy plane tickets. This is my money. This is what I'm doing. I don't have a bunch of Lamborghinis. I've got a very thick passport. And boots that show wear, and I go. And that's the why and that's the how. And it's all about how I feel an obligation as a human being on the planet to wave my arms and gesticulate wildly and not shut up, and not succumb and not be intimidated. And not say “okay, you guys are yelling the loudest, okay, Mr. Limbaugh, I'll just submit,” I don't think so. I quite enjoy this: Nietzsche, like you need to read Nietzsche after you're fifteen, but he says the warrior is blessed with finding a worthy opponent, a worthy enemy. I really enjoy this conflict. I enjoy my enemies. Hunger, thirst, inequality. These are my enemies.

But again it sounds like I'm thinking I'm something. But for any conscious switched-on person with the means to eat food and drink potable water every day, it should be an obligation of people who have the means in this new century to be even a microscopic part of the solution. Or positive change. And in the most humble terms, that's what I'm trying to do.

So this being Texas, and being in Austin, the bastion of sanity in this state, I was wondering your thoughts on the Perry situation?

I wouldn't be the least surprised if Rick Perry puts a wall around you guys and throws the eight non-Austin homosexuals in Texas over the wall. So all the gays and thinkers and artists are safely behind the Austin wall and we can come in with the Marshall Plan and keep delivering you guys paint and ink and good coffee.

Just keep the air lift going?

Exactly, the Austin air lift. I said this to a bunch of people in Austin two July 4ths ago on stage. I said “Don't let Rick Perry secede, don't leave. I like you guys. I like your history. I said, “Don't make us have to come and dig you guys out and carry the entire city and annex it to Athens, Georgia. Where else are we going to put you where you can fill up your tank and get a good burrito?” The rest of Texas does not think like you guys do, and I've been all over Texas. It doesn't make me an expert, but look who your governor is? Look who runs unopposed every time. It's the guy who's making a monumental fool of himself every time he opens his mouth.

It's been bad.

Maybe for you, it's been great for me. Knowing he's never going to win anything except another term of governor. I feel bad for the innocent people he lethally injects. I feel bad for the cops and the firefighters and the teachers he defunds. I feel bad for the pride he takes in all the crappy minimum wage jobs he brags about. I like what some comedian said, “The Texas miracle is Rick Perry finishing a sentence without screwing it up.” I hope Texas survives Texas.

To change topics a bit, back in the pre-Black Flag days, you were working at a Häagen-Dazs…do you think the you of today would really be able to connect to the you of then?

photo from google archive

I don't think the me of back then would be able to believe that what I deal with and enjoy today would have been a possibility. In Black Flag, which was the time immediately after my last job at a Häagen-Dazs, the last straight job I had…by the way, I still keep in touch with my old boss, we're still friends. Whenever he says to a room full of people backstage at one of my shows, “Henry was the best employee I ever had,” I must say I fairly swell with pride.

That's awesome.

I loved that job. It was a really good time. It's a nice little deli, an actual food deli now. I still walk in and again to my great pride, there's a photo of me taken in the Häagen-Dazs that's on the wall of that place, and very, very proudly put up by the guy who owns it and whenever I walk in he tries to feed me for free, and I always insist on paying. But back in those days, when I had a job, I was a guy in a small apartment with a VW and a small record collection. A meager bank account, but I was pulling my weight, I was making money. I was living. It was 40-60 hours a week but I was making it. In Black Flag I nearly went broke and so financial stability was never even anything I considered. I just knew it was never coming my way.

The first [music] manager I ever had, she came into my little room which was my bedroom, my book company and my life. Everything I owned. She said "So this is your room. Okay what do you want?" and I said, "I need money. I need money so I can pay my band, so I can keep my books in print. I'm not looking for a mansion, I'm looking to exist as an artist." So I said, "I need money so I can buy snare heads and bass strings and another print run of this book because I can't pay for the gear and I spent the meager money I made on my last book on rent and phone trying to book a tour which no one went to, so that's what I need," and she said, "Henry, money is going to be the last of your problems. You're going to make a lot of money," and I said "Thank you. Sure is pretty to think so.”

Did you just quote the end of The Sun Also Rises by Hemingway?

Haha, yeah, that's what I'm quoting. Nice. But she was right, I've done very well and so my life is so completely different, my priorities, what I get to do, what a day is for me, what I can project for my future is so radically different than A.) anything that I could have ever entertained as a 20 year old, B.) anything my parents could have ever entertained, and C.) anything the people I grew up with ever could have entertained for me. And so it’s all, you know, mind-blowing to me at times, where I have to pause for a moment and go, "Damn, this is some kinda ride I'm on."

So the 20 year old me looking at the 50 year old me, he'd probably be like "No freaking way man." Would he also say, “You’re just a corporate shill?” Yeah, probably. But that’s alright, I’ll call myself a corporate shill.

---
Here is Part Two of the Henry Rollins interview, and here's Part Three. He'll be performing on the Yellow Stage at Fun Fun Fun Fest.