Run Away Success

CAMP HUMOR: "My philosophy was to be as honest as possible even if that meant singing about what an assface I can be," says Christinzio.

Brian Christinzio on his impressive debut CD.

by Patrick Rapa

Last time we heard from Fishtown's Brian Christinzio, the smooth-voiced frontman behind B.C. Camplight, he was wearing a tight shirt and lip-synching his own music while film students blew bubbles at him. Have pity on him, it was his first video shoot. (And be grateful, he recounted it in vivid, self-deprecating detail for our October 2004 Music Issue.) Now B.C. Camplight's first full-length CD, Hide, Run Away (One Little Indian), is finally out, and it's time to talk serious. Don't be fooled by Christinzio's modesty and deadpanning: This CD is a smart, ambitious pop record. Recorded at Miner Street by Brian McTear and Amy Morrissey, Hide, Run Away carefully stitches bossanova grooves to poppy Herman's Hermits/Beach Boys melodies. With his soothing croon and love-is-a-comedy-of-errors lyrics, Christinzio creates a warm, humble tone, starting with its classic opening line: "And if you offer me a second chance, I would quickly need another." With his CD release show at Indre right around the corner, he found a sec to talk about music, philosophy and Roseanne. So much for serious.

City Paper: How did that "Hide, Run Away" video turn out?
Brian Christinzio: That video won't be released. Over the past year or so I've lost a lot of weight and have gotten into some semblance of shape. At the time that video was shot I looked like a young John Goodman, sans the social importance and square-jawed dignity. Shallow, perhaps. Don't get me wrong — I love JG. I used to get goosebumps when he would sock some punk for disrespecting Rosey and the girls.

CP: I heard you and the Miner Street people ran the wires out the door and over to somewhere with a better piano. Why?
BC: Brian McTear's neighbor was some eclectic piano collector. Brian thought it'd be worth a try to run hundreds of feet of cable down the road and see what kind of sounds we could get. It was a cool feeling recording something onto a tape machine half a block away. I felt like Neil Armstrong sans the social importance and square-jawed dignity.

CP: Are you some kind of sound perfectionist?
BC: I don't know. Maybe. I have a really strong idea of how things should sound. I'm not one of these guys that walks into a studio with an idea and a six-pack and dicks around until they hear something they like. I like to have a whole song completely mapped out in my brain before I attempt to record it. I swear to God I'm completely incompetent at every part of my life outside of music. So I figure I might as well try to nail this part down as solidly as I can.

CP: You play almost every instrument on the CD. How does that work? Don't you have friends?
BC: And what's the deal with Jackie? She was so hot yet she couldn't get in Booker's pants. Anyway, for the most part I would play piano along with a drummer. When we got that down I'd throw the bass and guitars on. Then orchestral stuff and vocals. Until recently I never liked having musician friends, or friends that were interested in my music happenings. I spend all day and night thinking about songs and music, so I like to have friends that have nothing to do with that.

CP: Part of what defines this CD is its mix of slick pop moves and humor. What was your philosophy going into it?
BC: I'm not a scenester. I'm not cool and I don't care to be. I make Dan Aykroyd look like Cary Grant. You're never going to see a press photo of me leaning against a brick wall smoking a cigarette. I wanted all these truths to be reflected in my songs. I've said before, if anything, I want this music to change how people feel, not how they dress. My philosophy was to be as honest as possible even if that meant singing about what an assface I can be. It's not a goofy record whatsoever, but at the same time I wanted to give it enough levity so it couldn't be lumped in with that ultra-serious, whiny, singer-songwriter bullshit.

CP: You were the captain of the football team in high school. Do any of your old teammates know you're a smooth pop crooner?
BC: I haven't kept in touch with any of my old teammates. I wasn't a jock kinda guy. Most of those guys would go up to some cabin on the weekends where they'd drink beer and, I don't know, slap each other's asses. I'd sit at home with a grilled cheese trying to figure out Beach Boys harmonies. Geez, am I friends with anybody?

B.C. Camplight's CD release show, Fri., July 15, 9 p.m., $10, with Cynthia G. Mason and Audible, Indre Recording Studios, 1418 S. Darien St. (between 8th and 9th sts., off Reed St.), 215-463-3000, bccamplight.com.