A familiar figure on the New York rock scene since he was a teenager on Television guitarist Richard Lloyd’s solo debut, James Mastro went on to help found The Bongos and later the alt-country Health and Happiness Show before becoming an in-demand guitarist for other artists, from John Cale and Garland Jeffries to Alejandro Escovedo and especially Ian Hunter, on the English rocker’s solo work since 2001 and in the reunions of his legendary band Mott the Hoople.
Only now is he releasing his first solo album, Dawn of a New Error, in stores now on MPress Records. We talked to Mastro, almost as familiar for his ever present Bolero hat as he is for his riffs, before he ventured out on an Alejandro Escovedo tour where he’ll both open solo and play in the headliner’s band.
It’s hard to believe this is your first solo album after all these years.
Yeah, in Health and Happiness Show, I was the main songwriter, but it was still a band. It was kind of a gentle dictatorship. But yeah, this is it. I have no one to blame but myself.
Are these all new songs, or the result of a long period of songwriting?
I’ve been writing all along. And the inspiration kind of came from COVID, because being inactive, Ian [Hunter] and everyone I was working with was pretty much stalled out. It forced me to finish this and realize, well, I have this record out and if no one else is going out to play, I guess I should.
So some of these songs are some you may have had but hadn’t finished?
The way this record was done was so leisurely and without any intention of making a record. My friend Tony Shanahan, who produced it, just got a studio up and running probably seven, ten years ago, he called me and said, “Hey, I just want to just test out the gear and see what the room sounds like. What do you have? Come in.”
So it was a very easy way to make a record. Whenever time opened up, he called me: “What do you got?” So it either forced me to finish a song or forced me to write one for a session the next day. And when COVID hit, I thought I got just enough songs here for an album. And they all seem to have some kind of cohesive thread. So we just kind of finished it up.
What would you say the cohesive thread is? A reaction to the modern world? General angst?
I guess everything is a reaction to something. If I say it’s a reaction to the modern world, I’ll sound like a crotchety old man.
But there is a case to be made for a terrible world.
It can be a terrible world. For the most part I think for me this is a hopeful record thematically. I’m forced to look at it more as I do interviews, and things I don’t think about and just do, now I have to justify it and think about. But I realize there is hope in all of it. So if it is a crappy world, I’m hoping it will get better. Or I’m trying to make it better for me and my friends.
It’s quite an impressive group of people you have on it, from Ian Hunter to Tony Shanahan. And this all comes from your work with them over the years, right?
Tony was in my band Health and Happiness Show back in the ’90s, so we’ve been working together pretty consistently for 30-some years, though he left us when he got the offer from Patti Smith, which we were very happy for him. But we always find something to work on together. We’re always doing sessions together or side gigs.
And Ian, he owed me. After 20 years of me being with him. I was like, “You want to do something?” He didn’t think twice. He was great.
He was also in the video for “Right Words, Wrong Song.” That surprised me to see him in there.
That surprised all of us. He’s not even in his own video for his last record. I expected a big no when I asked him. But when I told him the concept, he thought it was hysterical and he was all for it.
You’ve been on a lot of tours with him, even the 2019 Mott the Hoople tour.
For me doing that was mind boggling. That is really the band that made me want to play guitar when I was a kid. So being up there and doing it, I’ll be honest at first, I had some doubts about it. I was at the reunions they did with Mick Ralphs [in the UK], I was there for those shows helping out. So I saw that, and it was great. Had I not seen that, I think I would have been: Is this just going to be an oldies act? Because no one wants to be a part of that, or tarnish the memory of something that someone has. But once we started rehearsing those three guys [Hunter with Ariel Bender and Morgan Fisher] were incredible I thought. So hopefully it didn’t feel like an oldies revival show to you.
No, not at all. I imagine those shows gave a lot of people the chance to see Mott when they thought they never would.
Yeah, I think they saw a valid version. They went out of their way to make us feel like we were part of the band and not just hired guns. All around it was really such a joy to be part of.
How did you first get to work with Ian.
I totally bamboozled into this band. Andy York, who has produced all of Ian’s records since Rant is a friend I’ve known forever. Ian was doing a one-off show in New York in 2000. I called Andy right away because I heard he was the bandleader. I said look, I’d love to be in this band if you need another guitar player. And he was like great, let me check with Ian. He checked with Ian, and Ian said I don’t really want another guitar player. I was bummed out and thought about it, but I called Andy the next day and said, “Most likely you’re doing ‘I Wish I Was Your Mother,’ so you’re going to need mandolin.” He’s like, great, let me call you back. He called back and said, “Yeah, that sounds good.” So then I had to go out and get a mandolin and learn how to play it.
You didn’t know how to play a mandolin?
Not at all. So I borrowed a mandolin and stayed up all night because the rehearsal was the next day. I guess I did ok. And from there, it was like, let’s keep him in.
It seems like something you’ve been doing through your career haven’t you? Didn’t it begin that way, when you went into New York and talked yourself into some bands?
Not really talked my way. I was lucky enough, I had this high school band called Fast Card. And Terry Ork from Ork Records who did the first Television singles and Richard Hell—we took our single into Bleecker Bob’s, which was like the great record store that had all the punk CDs, we took it to him hoping that he would sell it, and he took a few copies, and he listened to it while we were there, and while he was listening he called Terry Ork while we’re in the room and he said “There’s this band you should check out.” Terry and Lenny Kaye came to check us out in our first New York show, and Terry wanted to do a single, and he wanted Richard Lloyd to produce it. We were thrilled, Television was my favorite band.
But it just didn’t work out. We met with Richard, and I think we were too young to figure out what he wanted us to do. So the record never came to be, but six months later I got call from Richard saying “I just left Television, do you want to be in my band?” I didn’t think twice about it. I had to convince my parents—I promised them I would still graduate from high school—because I was still in high school. But that was kind of the start of it. So I guess my lying ways didn’t start until Ian Hunter!
Not lying—you just found yourself in situations where you can play with great people. I hadn’t realized before that you were on Richard Lloyd’s Alchemy—that’s such a great album.
Yeah it is. And I thought at 18 I thought I had made it—signed to a major label. And that was the best lesson I ever learned about the music business: that it doesn’t happen; the money doesn’t pour in.
But there you were as a teenager, helping shape that record.
You know, I was the youngest one in the band obviously. So I guess I helped get Richard to that point from the beginning from our first gig to getting signed. And there are definitely things on that record I did that I’m like, yeah, I did that part. So yeah, I think I did my job.
Did that not last long?
No second album with that band. We toured a little bit, but to be honest, Richard’s health was not the greatest. So, we played a bit after that, our tours were mostly confined to east coast. I was actually the first one to leave from that lineup. It was getting a little dark.
Did The Bongos start right then?
The Bongos had started as a three piece, and I knew them all separately, actually before they all knew each other. Richard [Barone] I met at CBGB’s one night—he saw me playing and he had just moved up from Florida and we bonded over our shared love of T Rex. And Rob [Norris] and Frank [Giannini], the rhythm section, were in bands out where I grew up and had my first bands. So I knew them. Then those three met, totally without my doing. So it was great. We were friends already. And I would sit in with them every once in a while, even though I was still with Richard Lloyd at the time. So when I left Richard I just kind of gravitated into The Bongos. It was a very easy transition.
The Bongos released a dozen singles in its time, and a couple of albums, and toured a lot before you broke up in 1987. And you still reunite from time to time?
Yeah, every once in a while, if it’s for the right reason. We’re all kind of scattered. Richard and I live close to each other, but the other two guys are a little farther away. So if the stars align and something fun comes up, we’ll do it.
We spent six years in a van together, touring nonstop, so there’s a language and a vocabulary there that I have with no one else. So it’s very easy when we get into a room to just fall back into it and enjoy ourselves.
You played with a lot of artists over the years, from John Cale to Patti Smith. Did you begin to see yourself as kind of a hired gun for these acts you liked?
That really didn’t come until after I left The Bongos. People like Chris Stamey would ask me if I wanted to go on tour with them. It was friends, so it was easy. And I had a little band after The Bongos for a bit, and running a band, we were courted by every major label at the time and it was just awful—everyone saying we love you, we’re going to sign you. It took the joy out of playing. I realized I was playing for someone I didn’t even know.
So after that, when people started calling, asking me to play with them, it was much easier. They call me, I come in and play and have a good time, and I don’t have to worry about the biz. You can do that. Two words that should not be next to each other—music and business. It’s just awful.
Is it better now, since artists can put out their own music now on their own terms?
Yeah, it’s much easier. I learn a lot from watching my daughter or her friends, people I know. In the back of my head or people my age, we still remember record companies and expense accounts and all that. But, yes, if I want to put out something tomorrow, I can do it, and you can easily reach a few hundred people or 1,000 people right away. As opposed to putting out a single in 1975 and hoping someone would write about it.
When did you put together the Health and Happiness Show?
That was around ’92-ish, around there. And that was a fun band that just started for the right reasons and ended with the right reasons. No intentions of ever trying to get a deal. It was friends sitting around, drinking beer, singing country songs. And from that, more friends came by and sat in, and one day I looked around and realized I had a band there. So I booked a show without telling them, and I told them instead of meeting around the kitchen table, meet me at this club. They showed up and did a show and had a great time, and kept it going from there.
That was also a DIY, well, the first two records were on Bar/None, small label—great, treated us well. We know we weren’t going to be huge, but we knew they care and love us and we were busy. The last record we put out was a label we put together, and everyone pitched in, and it worked, it was so much fun. It was pre-internet, but it’s kind of what you see now—people just doing it for themselves but helping each other.
I feel like in a way that in a way was the most successful thing I’ve done on the business side of things. Because it was done for joy and love and we actually, financially somehow, didn’t lose. If you can do that, you’re winning.
How did that band end?
We had 10 years, three albums, we toured a lot. And I’d just started playing with Ian, so it just seemed like the right time to do it. Ten years is a really good time. Let’s not keep going and in two years hate each other. And over the years we’ve gotten together and done a show here and there.
One trademark you’ve had from the early days is your hat. How did that become part of what you do?
Even in The Bongos when Richard and I had hair, I had a few Boleros I would wear, and Richard had top hats. I just remember my dad and all his friends, that generation that all wore hats. I love those old photos of Yankees Stadium where it’s a sea of men in hats and suits. That’s always been etched in my head.
A good hat, it kind of helps you. Not that I’m acting, but it’s like putting on your Superman costume. It just helps you enter the role a little better.
There must have been a point when you realized you could’t go out on stage without it.
Well, I’ll tell you when it’s nice is if I want to slip through the crowd, I’ll just take off my hat and no one knows it me.
So it is like a Superman costume!
Or Kiss unmasked.
Is the new album coming out on vinyl?
It is and I’m thrilled, It’s been quite a while so I’m very happy about that.
What are some early vinyl records that have been key to your development?
Well, right off the bat, my older brother, the first album he ever brought home was Creedence Clearwater’s Cosmo’s Factory. That just turned everything around. I read those liner notes every day after school and that started it. We joined all the record clubs. After a while, my parents would say no more, and we’d sneak them into the house. We were obsessed. But certainly that one.
The Woodstock album…as a young kid seeing the pictures on that and hearing people swear on record, that was kind of shocking. This was totally another world that did not exist in suburban New Jersey at the time. It was like National Geographic, every album took you somewhere.
James Mastro’s Dawn of a New Error arrives in stores today on MPress Records, distributed by Virgin/Universal via SRG-ILS Group.
