UNCUT FUNK interviews Tracey "Trey Lewd" Lewis (Part 1)
Davidelic
UNCUT FUNK interviews Tracey "Trey Lewd" Lewis (Part 1)
The biggest revelation of George Clinton's "Family Series"
CDs is a matter of "family" indeed: his son Tracey Lewis.
As front man of Trey Lewd's Flastic Brain Flam, Tracey
wrote and sang some of the hippest new-breed shit never
to be released during P-Funk's glory days. Buried treasures
like "I Can't Stand It," "Clone Ranger" and "Michelle."
When you check out T. Lewis compositions on George's solo
LPs -- like "Bangladesh" and "Rita Bewitched" -- as well
as Trey Lewd's 1992 solo project "Drop the Line" (with a
pee-soaked diaper of a slow jam titled "Squeeze Toy"), you
realize the dude is a distinctive talent unto himself, regard-
less of his cellular origins inside Dr. Funkenstein's nut sack.
(His mother, Vivian Lewis, was a singer and songwriter
herself; she and George co-wrote "Let Me Be.")
Now 35 years of age, Tracey has been visible to funkateers
in recent times with his little rap interlude during P-Funk
All Stars shows. David Mills and Larry Alexander talked
to Trey a year ago in Farmville, Va., on the road with the
group. In Part 1 of this interview, he recalls his childhood
musical aspirations and the birth of the "Trey Lewd" persona.
In Part 2, Tracey breaks it down on a more personal level
about his relationship with his father. This presentation,
exclusively for the readers of rec.music.funky, is a
manifestation of Cosmic By-Law #9, as interpreted by
the monks of UNCUT FUNK. All rights are reserved by the
authors.
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DAVID MILLS: What's your earliest memory of the band?
I don't know how old you were before you ever saw them ...
TRACEY "TREY LEWD" LEWIS: Mechanically, I guess "Testify,"
the record. I remember the group being in the apartment
and rehearsing, where we stayed in Newark when I was 4.
And this might be fetched a little further than actuality,
but I broke Eddie's guitar when I was 4. I like to go further
and say I used to sleep in his guitar case and shit, so I'm
coming clean about it now. First time saying it -- instead
of just saying "I used to sleep in Eddie's guitar case,"
'cause it sounds so cool. I broke his guitar. Eddie Hazel's.
You know, behind the aspiration of wanting to figure it
out, and playing with it.
MILLS: So you remember the guys singing, or the whole
band?
TREY LEWD: I remember knowing who the Parliaments was,
and members like Eddie and Billy of Funkadelic. Eddie and
Billy mostly, and Bernie, but Eddie and Billy. Tawl, I met
him recently. And Tiki, my recollection of him is not as
clear [as] the Parliaments, out in front of my grandmother's
house and shit. I knew their names.
Then, when the Westbound shit jumped off -- I remember
that record when I was like 5 or 6. And in '71, I had a
guitar by that time and, you know, dug the music. Nothing
obscure about it, because I thought it was as commercial
as you could get and as pop as you could get, 'cause it was
music that we had [growing up]. And the dress code of the
[group] was as natural and normal as anything else; that's
how they dressed.
MILLS: So throughout your growing up, were you checking
out Parliament-Funkadelic when they came through town?
TREY LEWD: I'd see shows at the Apollo. And my mother
had other musician acquaintances who had bands, and
they'd play, and I'd see similarities. I'd gather some of
the Sly and the Family Stone. I suppose, how close they
appeal to me now, there was some kind of relationship
then. My mother had a lot of rock stuff, a lot of Zeppelin,
Crosby Stills Nash and Young, Steppenwolf, she had that
kind of shit. Beatles and Jimi Hendrix around too. I never
learned the words to, like, Motown things till way later.
I wrote a song when I was 8. With arrangement, you know.
I had [a sense for] the organization of how you make a
song, you know, where it came from. I could write stories
and shit. Singing and playing, not necessarily, but ...
found this place when I was like 10 or 11 for me to sing.
MILLS: Tell me about your mom.
TREY LEWD: Extraordinary. Yeah. Her and dad wrote a lot
alike. And sing a lot alike. I'm just blessed [that I] broke
off from both of them; I write and sing like the both of
them first, of anything else I'm influenced by. 'Cause I
like a lot of shit, love a lot of shit, but I respect my mom
and dad, and write just like them.
MILLS: So just seeing it all around from both sides, you
knew that's what you wanted to do? Just naturally, that
was your world, you wanted to be in it?
TREY LEWD: Yeah. Yeah. Even further, when my mother
said what my father was, she called him an "entertainer."
I went to school and said, "My dad's an entertainer." All
I wanted was, like, that aspect of that music that he made
to be in me. I used to play clubs and didn't think you were
supposed to get paid. I'm singing on "Knee Deep" and shit
like that, and I wasn't even in the union. Then I found out
about that much, I'm like, "Well, cool. That's more work
though, catching a bus down to pick up a check." But I ain't
have a problem with it.
LARRY ALEXANDER: So as you were coming up, you were
picking up the guitar more and more, developing that?
TREY LEWD: By the time I was 12, I was taking guitar
lessons in school, just for the time period of getting a
chance to practice what I wanted to do, not really
participating in the class. I never learned to read -- shit!
At the end of the class, everybody could read except me.
But I could play; gotta utilize that hour in that class just
to learn and retain what I could. "Every good boy does fine,"
some shit like that. I remember that much. (laughs)
MILLS: How'd you hook up with Andre Foxxe [Tracey's main
collaborator in Flastic Brain Flam]?
TREY LEWD: I had a band, right, when I was 15, 16 --
MILLS: In Newark?
TREY LEWD: In L.A. I moved to L.A. from Jersey when I
was 10. Then Curtis Womack of the Valentinos, his son
Curtis Womack [Jr.], we met and played together. He was
the first person I played with, kinda like a playing partner.
And then we did do a group. I'm out at a club one day and
says, "We got a band. Can we play?" And we dropped names
-- "I'm so-and-so and my dad is, and his dad is --" And
the guy heard us rehearse, he let us play. We were doing
covers and shit. Like B.T. Express and Hall and Oates, shit
like that? And every Sunday we'd play.
I had no idea that you play and get paid for it. People would
ask us, "How much this guy paying you?" Like, "We don't
know." I said, "Oh, wait a minute. I'm gonna confront him
about that, next Sunday when we play." I said, "We supposed
to be gettin' paid!" He said, "I seen it coming." So he gave
us a cheeseburger and a soda. So I figured, oh, we comin'
up! Word is bond!
Pops came by, heard a rehearsal. And his thing was, "Just
keep doing what you're doing." He'd buy me guitars and
shit. Then, when I was 16, I had an organized band, I put
a lot of work in, focused, and we we did a bunch of original
shit, and we'd play the shit for him. And Neil Bogart [of
Casablanca Records] heard the shit too. And Dad said, "Okay,
you're ready now." He snatched me out of L.A., out of school
and everything, and I went to Detroit at 16.
I met Dre [Andre Foxxe], and we put our band together and
we cut stuff. I'm still not knowing about publishing and
any of that shit. Just cutting the shit and, you know, "A
deal is pending." All I'm thinking about is, like, getting
enough money to buy a house for my mom, and just being
major.
That much, I was conscious of that: being major, being a
big star. I figured the big money came with that. But until
there was a record, I didn't feel like I was really being
paid, apparently. I mean, I don't know what I thought, you
know. But I was just waiting for that record to be mixed
and released and shit, an international release. And, what's
that, '79, '80? Twelve years later, back in '92, finally got
the record out.
ALEXANDER: Where'd the name "Flastic Brain Flam" come
from?
TREY LEWD: Well, Pedro Bell, basically. It was Flastic
Brain Cells. Overton [Loyd] says, "Well, you might as well
say Flastic Brain Flam." He talked to Pedro, he says, "Let's
call it Flastic Brain *Flam* since you're saying Flastic."
I was like, "Okay. All right, I'm with that."
And "Trey Lewd" -- the group the Tubes, [the lead singer]
had his name "Quay Lewd," and I seen the glasses he was
wearing that said Quay and L-E-W-D. I didn't even know
what the word meant, but I said, "Ah, play on words,"
right?
The carnal concept and lyrics like that? That happened
just for the sake of how it happened. 'Cause it wasn't
suggested to me to do that. Dad said "Trey Lewd, three
times nasty," he told me that much. But it became fun to
write carnal shit. I do gospel shit as well.
MILLS: So what was it about the nasty concept? How was
that broken down to you?
TREY LEWD: I thought nasty was permissible. And I was
16 and I shit in my guitar. I had, like, a little acoustic,
and I took the strings off and took a shit and placed it in
there. Elmer-glued it down, scotch-taped it down. The
only [thing] I was trying to prove was to myself. It wasn't
no statement other than, "This is what I'm trying to say."
And I had that shit in there for months! Playin' the shit.
Dudes didn't question it. It was like, "We're gonna leave
that alone."
Mescaline was in effect now, 'cause I had read so much
about Jimi Hendrix, so I wanted some acid so bad, right?
And then Dre turned me on. He says, "Take a half one of
these, Trey." I just looked at him -- (makes gobbling
motion). I was like, "Doomp!" I asked to be excused.
The variations of the music, like, changed and altered,
but it's still signature. My mother said, " 'Drop the Line'
is cool, but it's not Trey Lewd." "Squeeze Toy" was some
shit we did back in the day. The rest of that shit, she says,
"It's cool, but that watered-down shit that you're doing --
I hope it serves a purpose for you in the industry. But it
ain't the shit really where you're at."
I mean, I've probably said it too. I had fun making the
record, I thought it was cool. [But] I'm indie-conscious
now. Like, "Can I write and play with you and for you?"
type of thing. That's where I'm at. Anything that anyone
will have.
Like Sue Ann. She can sing her ass off. She says, "Come
by, let me hear your shit." Then I stay at her crib for four
months, just trying to get MCA to let me put a song on
her album, right? And I got no gig. She sang on my album,
you know.
ALEXANDER: Sue Ann Carwell.
TREY LEWD: Yeah. I guess whatever I learnt, through new
experiences, whatever that might have been, I picked up a
lot. She's a pro. And can croon.
*End of Part 1*
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Coming May 6th, from Avon Books: "For the Record: George
Clinton and P-Funk," an oral history written by David Mills,
Larry Alexander, Thomas Stanley and Aris Wilson, edited
by Dave Marsh. You can advance-order a copy right now,
through Amazon.com. Just cut-and-paste this address here:
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ISBN=0380793784/9562-2252696-735787