Zola Moon: The Last Waltz?

Zola Moon wraps it up on Saturday night at Suzy’s in Hermosa Beach. Photo by Ciley Carrington
Zola Moon wraps it up on Saturday night at Suzy’s in Hermosa Beach. Photo by Ciley Carrington

Often compared with Janis Joplin and Big Mama Thornton, singer Zola Moon has described herself as a postmodern blues artist. She is also something else, a South Bay institution, an integral part of the local music scene since at least the mid-1980s when she and Barry Levenson fronted The Automatics, and then for the past 20 years as a gutsy solo performer. The title of a fairly recent album, “Wildcats Under My Skin,” somehow describes the effect of her songs and her shows. However, a big change is in the air. Zola Moon is leaving. Her farewell appearance, the last big hurrah, is this Saturday night at Suzy’s in Hermosa Beach.

A change is gonna come

“This is what’s happening,” Zola explains. “Two years ago my father passed away and that was a real shocker for me. My sister took care of him – he died of Alzheimer’s – and watched it all close up. Now she’s also the fulltime caretaker for my mother. She’s also a fulltime schoolteacher and I think she’s starting to crack under the pressure. So she really needs help and I want to be there for her.”

That’s why Zola is moving north to Sacramento.

She makes one thing clear: “I’m not quitting singing. When I get some bookings lined up I’ll be pulling my L.A.boys up, ‘cause I have a place I can put ‘em now, so they can stay.” Her band consists of Michael Carter, Eric Williams, and Jerry Olson – and she speaks fondly of another band mate, the late Vince Joy. As for what she’ll miss most, that would be the people who’ve been coming out to see her perform for so many, many years.

When asked if she already has music contacts in Sacramento, Zola says no, adding with a laugh that she’s never had music contacts, and is not worried about meeting other musicians.

“I know how to do that. I was clubbing with my sister, and I sat in with a couple of bands. The club owners were like, When can we hire you? And how soon?” Zola laughs, deep and throaty sounding. “L.A.is so difficult compared to other places. It almost feels like going to greener pastures.”

How do you think this move will affect your songwriting and recording?

“As you know,” Zola replies, “Barry wrote most of the songs or all of the songs in the old band, and they’re wonderful; and I started writing my own songs when I branched off. Now I have a new concept – I’m on an art rampage as well.”

Her favorite artist is Vincent van Gogh, and Zola shows several of her recent paintings. They are quixotic and sometimes detail-filled, brightly colored works that, in most cases at least, extend or complement themes or characters in her songs, such as “Tequila Dreams” and “The Serpent King.” My guess is that a little more surrealism will emerge in lyrics not yet written.

Knocking on closed doors

Could you sum up your years in music since 1985?

“When you’re trying to accomplish something that begins to seem so difficult,” she says, “you try not to think about it too much. Basically, I love the South Bay and I love the people here. I’ve seen a lot of changes” – and in particular she notes how populous the area has become, even in just the last ten years.

“I’ve done what blues singers do: I’ve worked a lot of gigs, a lot of shows. Some of them were great, and some of them were just really hard. You know, okay, this is what you do. I worked as a waitress. I’ve been very poor and now I’m not quite so poor. And I think that kind of sums it all up.” Zola finishes with a big laugh.

In some fields, artists pay scant attention to the passing of time, but that’s not the case with this blues singer, who is well aware that the industry at large has always favored the young and the pretty.

“One of the reasons that I don’t get to make as much money as I’d like to,” Zola says, “is that I don’t fit into boxes. Age is very important to corporate people that hold power that can really help you get in the door. You need massive amounts of money to at least have a shot at stardom. And these guys look at you not like an artist; they look at you like a product.

“So I think the pressure of that really does weigh on an artist,” she continues. “You know, I am who I am, and I’m very lucky that I’m still in one piece, because being an artist is really hard. Now, I’ve had 20 years of a chance. Luck, it’s the old American thing where you make it happen. I made it happen as much as I could.

“Sooner or later somebody has to open that door. And if it doesn’t get opened for you then you’re on the outside – you’re not on the inside. So things are a lot harder. But, as with all crazy artists, you just do your art, and that’s what my driving force is.”

We talk further about luck, and Zola cites the brutality of the business, which can be crushing. Even those who are well-armored or who have achieved fame aren’t spared.

“Money always makes everything seem better, and it is partially better, but you’re still who you are. In the end your art, if it’s really good, [will] stand the test of time. If it’s not, even promoted by the big shots, it’ll only last five minutes. And then what have you accomplished?”

Holding one’s integrity

If I had interviewed you at age 20 instead of today your responses would be a whole lot different.

“Oh, very different,” Zola replies, “because then it was all about making it, but not about selling out. Kids reach a point in their lives where some of them are really driven artistically and get lucky and they don’t get separated from their art. Other ones, in order to make it, have to sell so much (of themselves). Like I said, the brutality of the business.” She pauses. “Be careful what you ask for; you just might get it.”

“I try to be kind,” Zola says, when asked how her attitude towards her music has changed over the years, “but I do have a certain amount of anger. I can be unapproachable if my walls are up because I’m just tired of the B.S. But that’s not the total sum of a person; you gotta realize that people are just out there trying to do what they do. I kind of have some sympathy for that. I do feel like I’ve accomplished a lot. Look, I got six CDs. The old band did get product out; in spite of all the odds we did get product out.”

The most recent album, “Undercover,” was released about six months ago, and features her versions of classic songs – such as “Piece Of My Heart,” “Rock Me Baby,” and “Runaway” – that have been staples of her live performances.

“One thing I tried,” Zola continues, “and I hope that I have succeeded in doing, is not to become bitter. Some artists, after they’ve been doing it a while, even when they’re really famous, can become very bitter. I don’t think that that has happened to me. I have little spells of anger, and it’s in my songs. I had to get off the whisky” – and she begins to laugh – “which is a goddamned shame. But I can still drink wine.

“Outside of that I’m really, really gonna miss my fans. That’s it. But I am happy, and I’m moving forward.

Never put it off

Which isn’t to say that she won’t be returning to the South Bay for an occasional show. That’s one door, at least, that remains wide open. Besides, Zola knows that if you want name recognition then you have to be in the public eye.

“People have to know who you are. You don’t get to be on the David Letterman Show or Jay Leno, even, without big muscles behind you. There’s only one way to get to those people, and that’s get out in the clubs. I also believe it’s the American thing of never wait for somebody to do something for you. ‘Cause while you wait, you’re wasting time. If there’s a way to do it, you got to do it yourself.”

Self-reliance, and Zola drives home the point: “While you’re waiting for this person to come and wave the magic wand you have to realize that the odds are against you. If you are not born into the business and have connections the odds are against the magic wand [landing] on you. It’s only one of one percent gets the nod. It’s very rare. So why are you waiting? Do it yourself; you can do it. I think it can be done.”

She cites Willie Nelson, who toured and toured with his band. “And then people finally knew who they were and you can’t ignore people when they start selling. You can no longer ignore them for whatever prejudice corporate reasons you have, because they’re there.”

I mention the proliferation of L.A.new wave bands in the early 1980s, many of which quickly came and went.

“Blues is a different field,” Zola says. “It’s almost what old country used to be like where they weren’t the most popular thing but their fans were lifers – loyal, lifetime fans – and they really stayed with that person, although they weren’t the ones with the big hits in the Top 40. It’s still kind of the same, and blues artists are like that, jazz artists are like that. They don’t get the same recognition, and some of them have a hard way to go to get recognition at all. But they have a lot more staying power because of the kind of fan base that they have.”

I guess you intend to pursue your art for as long as possible?

“My voice is a little lower than it used to be,” Zola replies; “which is good, I think. It’s bigger. I haven’t lost any power at all. If I want to do what I like to do when I sing, it’s not a problem. I haven’t lost chops there. Because of the hydration factor I had to cut out the whisky because it was either, well, what do you want to do? Do you want to drink whisky or do you want to sing real well? Well… let me think about it.” She laughs. “Trying to sing real well won out.

“I’m thinking I’m just gonna keep producing art up until I can’t. Who knows when that will be? You change as an artist; that’s what I have been doing the whole time since I started till now. I’m still the same, I’m a blues-Americana roots singer – but the art itself has evolved. We’ll see what kind of stuff I do when I’m an old lady, ‘cause I don’t see myself stopping.”

Zola Moon performs on Saturday from 9 p.m. until midnight at Suzy’s, 1141 Aviation Blvd., at Prospect, in Hermosa Beach. Lots of Zola Moon merchandize will be available for purchase, including autographed posters, rare 45 rpm records, and original artworks. (310) 379-6171.

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