Spindle’s Lyrical Spell : Singer Carolynne Edwards’ Calm Exterior Belies the Drama in Her Songs

In person, Carolynne Edwards comes off as a calm, composed woman who couldn’t be less interested in putting forth a flamboyant front.

Even when leading her new band, Spindle, at Bogart’s last weekend, she cut a demure figure in a conservative dress hemmed just above the knee, sensible shoes and dark, opaque stockings. Aside from a bobbed, neo-flapper hairdo that is her lone concession to fashion chic, she could be pegged as a grad student.

And there were no startling on-stage transformations as the extremely promising, L.A.-based Spindle played its first Orange County-area show Friday night, although Edwards did slash vigorously at her guitar and do a little bunny-hop when the band’s richly melodic music became propulsive, as it often did.

It’s in her song lyrics that calm and composure vanish. Psyches fracture. Relationships combust. Things get broken. And Edwards relates it all in a voice that’s a little distanced and world-weary, as if she’s seen the same sad story unfold a few too many times.

Greg Moro, one of Edwards’ three sidekicks in Spindle, sat outside Bogart’s with her before the show and proposed a theory to explain the many crackups and immolations that occur in her songs.

“She’s Joan Crawford reincarnated,� the impishly jovial bassist insisted. “She’s so melodramatic. She’s so soap opera, it’s disgusting.�

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Edwards objected firmly, but with characteristic restraint.

“I’m a lot kinder than Joan Crawford,� she said. “I’m sorry--I don’t think I’m nearly as neurotic as Joan Crawford.�

“Actually, I have a very boring life,� she said later, after helping Moro and the two other band members, drummer Danny Westman and lead guitarist Bernard Yin, set up for the show. “I read a lot, and that’s where I get a lot of my ideas (for songs). You’d think I was a junkie, going through nervous breakdowns, but I have a very boring life.�

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On Spindle’s winning, as-yet unreleased demo-tape of four songs (all of which quickly hook a listener, then sink in deeply), Edwards most frequently reacts to the crackups and breakdowns of others.

“Petroleum,� inspired by an ex-boyfriend’s explosive temper, is noteworthy for melodies that recall the Beatles and Big Star and for an excellent Yin guitar solo that strains and squalls to evoke the weird scenes that can inhabit a decaying relationship. Also notable is Edwards’ attempt in the lyric to recycle almost every flame-related image in the English language:

I put my head in the oven like Sylvia

As you simmered like a Hiroshima sun,

Throwing blazing torches at the pilot light,

Throwing flammable words to the furnace night . . .

I hate it when you get like this,

When your tank overloads, you explode--petroleum.

“Collapsible You� briefly cops the Modern Lovers’ “Roadrunner� riff (like Edwards’ fine previous band, 3D Picnic, Spindle engages in a good deal of enlightened thievery from the smart-rock past but is sufficiently deft at it to at least try to cover its tracks). Then it asserts a thickly atmospheric guitar sound and a driving, tumbling beat that bring to mind the Psychedelic Furs, circa “Pretty in Pink.� Edwards wrote the song about a musician friend who “threw down his guitar, stormed off and practically had a nervous breakdown� when he got upset on stage one night.

“William Tell� pictures what can happen when the craziness in a relationship gets out of hand. Edwards said it was inspired by an account she read of how William S. Burroughs, the bohemian literary icon, shot and killed his wife during the 1950s while trying to duplicate William Tell’s feats of marksmanship. But it could be the story of any woman who becomes trapped and disoriented in domestic life (like the poet, Sylvia Plath, a favorite to whom she alludes in the above-quoted passage from “Petroleum,� Edwards sets scenes of emotional shock in such quotidian surroundings as kitchens and apartments).

“Coward in Hibernation� depicts the retiring sort of person that Edwards says she is herself--a woman who shuts out a rude and confrontational world by holing up in her apartment, but who can’t help feeling selfish and guilty over the sheltered life she leads.

In 3D Picnic--which put out two very strong albums on the Cargo/Earth Music label, “Dirt� (1989) and “Sunshine and Cockroaches� (1991)--Edwards could slip into a retiring role if she liked. The band’s main creative force and on-stage focal point was Don Burnet, the former Huntington Beach punker who wrote and sang most of the songs. But Edwards’ contributions as a harmony singer and occasional songwriter and front-woman were noteworthy enough that it comes as no surprise that she has been able to step forward in Spindle, preserving much of what was appealing about her previous band.

3D Picnic broke up a year ago when Burnet, frustrated by the group’s lack of headway in the pop marketplace, decided he wanted to take a noisier tack with his music (he subsequently joined the acclaimed L.A. band Thelonious Monster).

“Frankly, I was relieved,� Edwards said of her reaction when Burnet announced that he was breaking up 3D Picnic. She had been wanting to do more of her own material, something that wasn’t possible given her second-fiddle position in 3D. Edwards said the breakup was managed without any hard feelings between herself and Burnet. “We’re still best friends. We talk daily.�

She and Moro, who had joined 3D Picnic near the end of its run, decided to start a new band and soon recruited drummer Westman via a musician-wanted ad but had a hard time finding a lead guitarist. They were delighted when Yin, whose previous band, Samba Hell, had shared many bills with 3D Picnic, decided to join Spindle about six months ago.

Samba Hell had taken a more experimental bent (the band’s high point came when it played on the second stage on the final day of last year’s Lollapalooza festival at Irvine Meadows), and Yin wasn’t looking to join a band that emphasized straightforward pop-rock songwriting. “I would not say Spindle represents where I come from most naturally,� he said at Bogart’s, “but I was excited about becoming part of this group because I was so impressed by Carolynne’s songs.�

Samba Hell and 3D Picnic both had failed to land big-label deals at least partly because they couldn’t easily be pegged in any of the readily marketable categories. The aptly-named 3D Picnic came at pop-rock from a multitude of directions, taking inspiration equally from the Beatles, David Bowie, punk rock and folk and country music. Spindle (the name is inspired by the tale of Sleeping Beauty, who fell into her deep sleep after pricking a finger on a sewing spindle) takes a pop-with-a-kick approach not far afield from those of such proven college-radio faves as the Pixies, Belly and Throwing Muses.

Consequently, band members say, Spindle has been getting more attention from record companies in the four months since it mailed out its creatively packaged demo than 3D Picnic or Samba Hell received through years of trying.

Spindle “has more of a focus,� Edwards said. “It just came out that way. And for some reason, record companies seem to be partial to women now. In the late-’80s, it was Husker Du (the noisily melodic college-rock favorites from Minneapolis). Now it’s hip to be a female. I just happen to be the right sex this year.�

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If Spindle weaves its sound from fine pop thread, Edwards’ old partner Don Burnet says he is looking to make new music from coarser fabric.

While continuing as bassist in Thelonious Monster, Burnet recently launched a side project called Lutefisk. He has been playing with three other musicians who served hitches in 3D Picnic: Moro, who moonlights from Spindle, drummer Brandon Jay and guitarist Beal Dabbs.

“The band sound is more like a guitar-noise band, more of a Sonic Youth sort of thing,� Burnet said. “It’s more noisy and atmospheric, but still definitely with pop songs underneath. They’re just hidden a little farther underneath than 3D Picnic.�

Lutefisk, Burnet explained, is “a Norwegian fish dish. We just wanted to name ourselves after a disgusting food.�

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Scuffling college-rock bands often rely on the kindness of strangers to feed and house them while they’re on the road.

Orange County’s Cadillac Tramps lately have been haunted by the sort of stranger who gives trust a bad name--a burglar who has been conning his way into college-age female rock fans’ homes in part by posing as a friend and fan of the Tramps, then stealing from the young women when their guard is down.

The band members didn’t think anything was amiss when they had a meal with a man who invited them out after a show in Cleveland on July 22, according to Judy Miller, publicist for the Tramps’ Orange-based, Dr. Dream Records. The man, whom the band members didn’t know, earned the Tramps’ trust by paying for their meal, Miller said. A 22-year-old woman with whom the band had been crashing in Cleveland also shared the meal and subsequently decided to let this apparent fan of the Tramps stay at her house.

The Tramps moved on to another tour stop and, four days later, so did their supposed buddy--after stealing an estimated $6,000 worth of CDs, clothing and other belongings from the woman.

Miller said it came to light that a man fitting the same description and using a similar method of operation had committed burglaries in Chicago, Pittsburgh, Pa., and Baton Rouge, La. All four incidents have been reported to police, she said.

Miller said the victims were not at home when the thefts occurred and suffered no physical harm. They described the con artist as about 6-foot-4 with dark skin, short black hair and tattoos of a pentagram dripping blood on his left arm and an interstate sign bearing the legend “Route 666� on the back of his neck.

“For this guy to be doing this to young girls, using (the band’s) name to get to them, is the lowest form of trash,� Tramps’ singer Mike (Gabby) Gaborno said in a statement released by Dr. Dream. “If we find him, we’ll do what needs to be done.�