Oregon Art Beat; #1026; Pete Krebs Trio

I respect, I think it must have been either odd cause we evolve at that point, but you know, immediately follow and got incident, I'm just turning it in. I know, it's hard. He's like, God, dad's on TV again. Yeah. Okay, could you say your name and spell it? Sure, it's Pete Krebs, P -E -T -E -K -R -E -B -S. P -E -S at the end. Not that you're so, all right, not that you've heard that before, but P -E -S. So, how would you describe what you do when people say what you do? I'm a musician. I would describe what I do as, as from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep, I am doing something musical. Whether it's teaching, gigging, writing music, thinking about music, listening to music, it's a full -time job. And does it, can you make a living at it? I can't make a living at it.

I mean, I don't think that I'll be buying a beach house anytime soon. I can visit the beach, though. So, there's a happy meme. But yeah, I can make a living at it. It's a full -time gig, though. Again, from the minute you wake up to the minute you go to sleep, you're on the clock. How long have you been living like that? How long have you had music as your full -time occupation? I've made my living as a musician steady for maybe 20 years, close to 20 years. The first five of which I also had a day job to supplement the hundreds of dollars a year that I make to do what I do. So, how did you get started? At what point in your life did you go, you

know, that, like, underpaid starting musician gig was really good. I made the decision to become a musician when, as a student at Oregon State University, I was diagnosed with cancer. And I came up to Portland for therapy, radiation therapy. And it was, you know, last about three months or so. And my, I don't know, the idea that I had going into it, I don't know how to explain it. My view of life changed dramatically with that. You know, I realized that life was short and that it was much wiser in the long run to listen to your heart as opposed to trying to think your way through it. And so,

I, you know, I lasted about two weeks at Oregon State before I just dropped out and moved up to Portland and just, you know, immediately jumped into playing rock and roll bands. You know, I didn't have a very well -defined idea of what I was doing. I just knew that I was strong to the idea of being in Portland and being a musician. And what was the first iteration of that? What was the first band you were involved in? What type of music was it? You know, what, as you started to follow your heart, did you end up busking on street corners or were you playing in bed? Like, what did that look like? It began primarily playing in rock and roll clubs. Primarily punk rock clubs, you know, like the satiricon and the x -ray. Just playing in a succession of really loud local bands. And, you know, at that time, it was a very small music scene.

And so we had an opportunity to play with a lot of out of town. Groups that came through and so that was one side of it. And then I also played on the street. I played on a Saturday market every Saturday and Sunday mornings would go down. I was one of those kids with a guitarist with a bunch of noise trying to make a couple of bucks. And I did that for a while too. And then was there a transition into not growing up music making in terms of style, but growing up making music making in terms of, okay, now I need to teach or now I'm in a band that's recording. I mean, the compact chickens came along at some point. What was your evolution musically? My evolution musically followed two paths. There was the path of the singer -songwriter and the band. And then there was also sort of the working

musician, Blue Collar approach. So at the same time that I was, you know, putting out solo record to play in rock and roll groups, playing in clubs, I was also sort of apprenticing with older musicians of usually a generation or two older than me. Playing, you know, in bars for a living, you know, and making 30, 40 bucks a gig, you know, out in West Lynn, you know, every Friday night, playing country music or whatever type of music it was. And so I feel like it's always been sort of a two -pronged approach or, you know, two paths, my creative path. And then also learning the trade of being a working musician. And for a while, those two paths were

separate. And then, you know, maybe 10 years ago they started to converge a bit more. And I realized that, you know, it was possible to make a living full -time as a musician. And be both creatively fed and also, you know, fed. You know, I was able to put food on the table. So, you know, I realized, you know, I would rather teach than work at day job. I enjoy teaching. I didn't really understand quite how to do it when I first started. And, you know, so I just kind of learned on the job and made some mistakes and figured out what works and what doesn't work. And so that integrated itself with essentially working on musical projects that were artistically interesting to me, that allowed me to be creative but also allowed me to

work steadily, you know. And those three factors definitely played into my involvement in jazz, you know, and sort of figuring out a way to make it work. I'm going to do everything to hurry about the delay. Oh, that's okay. We're going. Okay. And so when you look back over that time, what do you think of as the highlights for you musically, professionally, personally? More musically and professionally. I would say the highlights of my musical career thus far were when professionally, when the groups that I've been involved with reached a point where it, you know, not necessarily reached a certain popularity, but actually started to affect people. I don't know if that makes sense, but, you know, I've had a lot of people come up to me and say, hey,

you know, the bands that you played in the early 90s, it totally framed my adolescence in Portland. You know, just realizing that like in doing something with intent and pure heart that I've been able to affect people's lives personally, and I've had people say, yeah, you know, your songs that you've written have helped me through in these horrible times in my life, you know, or really meant a lot to me help to define who I was back then. And so I would say that, you know, professionally and personally, those would be the high points is this, is just when the feedback, again, is that, hey, yeah, what you did really mattered, really mattered to me. And also personally, just being able to develop as a musician, because I really didn't think that I had the

ability, the brains to play jazz. And I've listened to jazz since I was a kid. And, you know, I was sort of felt like I would be a observer or a bystander or something. And in digging in my heels and teaching myself how to do it, for me, that was a real big personal victory. So actually, it's just tweeting a little bit more. Okay. So, and so what was that process like? Because from being in your 20s, dealing with this life changing diagnosis, and saying, I'm going to follow my heart to suddenly taking on something as mathematically complex as musically complex as jazz, where did your confidence come from? What happened over all those years you were playing, do you think? There was a lot of trial and error. The confidence came from realizing

that I needed to just figure out my own path. As opposed to feeling as though I needed to prescribe to, or I needed to adhere to someone else's path or someone's idea of, well, this is the process you need to go through. This is the order of things. If you want to end up here, you need to start here, and this has to happen. And I just don't believe that that's the case. I think that the life is in the translation. And that's one of the things that I try to impart to the people that I teach. Is that really a good teacher just teaches you to translate the problem or the subject to yourself. You need to figure it out on your own. That's how you're really going to understand your way through it. Because everyone thinks about musically,

everyone thinks about music and handles things musically differently. And so for me, my confidence came from the realization that I didn't have to force myself into seeing through someone else's eyes, thinking through someone else's ears. I could just make my own way. And that was very liberating. Because for a long time, I was thinking to myself, well, if I want to be a jazz musician, then I may as well just interrupt my life and go to college and take that route. If I want to be a small business owner, I'm going to need to learn how to do this and learn how to do that. But really now, you just have to realize that it's a series of little battles and big battles. And you're going to lose some little battles. But if you win enough of the little battles, then you're going to win a large one. So that's my process, just trial and

error, and let myself off the hook when I make a mistake. And how does that translate into your music writing, your songwriting and your process for that? How would you describe your process of songwriting or music writing? And what does it kind of look like when you're being creative? When I'm writing songs, I try to empty my mind as much as I can and act as a conduit. And be sensitive to the streams of thought that are sort of sublimated somewhat in my mind. My goal is to somehow attach myself to those streams and just go with it for as long as I can and somehow record my experiences. And then afterwards a few days after a

week after I go back and revisit it with a more critical eye and from a very personal perspective. But really in the initial stages of creativity, I just try to abandon myself to whatever comes. And because whenever I've had to create a demand or I've allowed myself to be distracted by trying to achieve a specific goal, I'm generally not very happy with the results. It's hard to create a demand for me. And how a few times, but I'll try to do one at a time. How if at all is that process different now when you're writing for Pete Krebs Trio versus when you're writing for Compat Chickens or other musical styles? Is there been a difference in your process or is the process the same, just the outcome is different depending on what kind of music is in your subconscious stream? There

is a thread that connects my songwriting in the different genres that I dabble in. And it is very much that sort of sense of kind of abandonment. When I'm writing for a more jazz or in a group, especially if I'm going out of my way to write something which stylistically is going to fit with the rest of the repertoire, then I'm working within the parameters of certain core voices, certain types of progression to feel. Early jazz has a feel and an imprint and identity that sets it apart. And so I try to allow my natural creative process to work within the confines of that, like stylistic

confines. And it's a really, you know, it's in an odd way, it's really liberating to do that. You know, because you have to filter everything through this very specific sound that you need to achieve. And I like working like that. That's really, that's been really enjoyable to me. And I listen to so much early music that really kind of allows me to pick and choose my influences. You know, I'll take a little bit of this, take a little bit of that. And so that's been a lot of fun. But the whole idea of kind of catching a stream, you know, hanging on to an idea, lighting it, take you, is still very much a part of both. It's just with my own songwriting, you know, my solo record, a singer -songwriter type stuff. I just have a lot more freedom. It's just sonically,

you know, the sounds that I choose to make are much more broader. Much more broader, I guess it's proper English. Much more broaderly. Broderly. Much more Matthew Broderick. Wait a minute. And how, if at all, did having a cancer diagnosis so young affect your understanding of what it means to let go? I don't know. I think having cancer at a young age was the best thing that could have happened to me. Whether I was able to articulate why back then, I don't think that I really could have put my finger on it. In retrospect, I think it's a lot easier to say, well, yeah, that was the big release. That was me saying, okay, well, yeah, this is the way

life is. You have only so much time here, you know, and in order to get the most out of your life, you need to drastically alter your philosophy of life. You need to realize that, you know, there's so many distractions that are so petty and unnecessary. And so, I think that subconsciously I was acting along those lines, but in my conscious mind, I might not have been able to explain why. Now, at the ripe age of 42, I could look back and say, wow, I made some really good choices, I made some really dumb mistakes. But there's been a continuity in my life that I can totally walk back to sitting in my apartment in Corvallis, getting a phone call saying, hey, you have cancer, we need to deal with this now. You know, that to me, that was like the end and the beginning.

That was a dividing line. So... It just sounds like such a great adventure you've been on. I've been very fortunate. Yes, in my life, I've... A day doesn't go by when I don't acknowledge how fortunate I am to be here doing what I do. And to have made unknowingly some of the choices that I've made, you know, the choice to stay in Portland, the choice to pursue music, even when I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't understand what I was doing. You know, having the confidence to go up and to musicians, so I really respect and say, hey, you know, I would love to play with you sometime or you know, we should do a project together. You know, oftentimes I don't really know where that courage comes from. But it's just, it always seems to step in at really good times for me.

And so I feel really fortunate. And, you know, I'm looking forward to the next chapters that come. Specifically, when you look back over the last 15 years of your ship, and I guess I'm kind of hoping you'll name some names or names of albums or names of songs or something, what do you think of as your successes or milestones along the way? And again, it's partly just so that I can, I can have a narration of your evolution without me having to say in 1992. Sure, yeah. You know, kind of if there are genres, if there are milestones, if there's some sort of a path as you look back with that benefit of hindsight, what are some of the markers that you see when you look back specifically? Specifically, the markers that I would designate in career wise would be, would really begin once I hit Portland and I started to play shows, you know, with the satiricon and the

X -ray. That would be maybe chapter one. I made my first real rock and roll record with a guy named Steve Albini, who later went on to produce a record. Quite a few notable records, including Nirvana's Big Record, he was the guy who twisted the knobs for that. And that was just a fluke, I mean, you know, I sort of listened to his old band Big Black and found myself face -to -face with him in the studio. That would have been a marker. The beginning of the group that I was in, Hazel, certainly an important point. And our friends in the band Pawns turned us on to the record label subpop up in Seattle. And they were at that time, it was right after Nirvana made it big. And so they had some money to throw around and sign some bands. And so I, in signing with them,

it ushered in a very exciting time for me because, obviously, I found myself doing what I'd be doing anyways, which was playing in a local rock band, but then all of a sudden, you know, here's this Big Record England Seattle that's flying us all over the place. And, you know, we're going on these tours. And, you know, I'm reading about myself in these big magazines and doing a photo shoot for Rolling Stone. And there's my video on MTV, you know. And so I got to play out that, you know, little kid fantasy that I had when I was 10 or 11 years old playing air guitar to, you know, sex pistols records. And, you know, I got to do that. And that was really cool, you know. The next high point, I would say, would have to be when I began sort of an apprenticeship with some older musicians. Like Neil Gilpin and Tim Acott, guys

who just like blue collar, you know, roadhouse musicians. And I talked to my way into a gig by saying that I could play drums and play the washboard, which I never played before. And so they hired me. And next thing I know, you know, I'm in the back of a band driving out to the middle of nowhere every weekend playing for dances, you know, and rough bars. You know, and it was just a real true education in how to be a working musician, you know, just like nuts and bolts, roll up your sleeves and work. I had opportunity to make some records with Elliot Smith, which were real joy for me. You know, not only was he my good friend, but artistically, he, to me, is one of the true greats, you know, just a very sensitive artist and a really inspiring musician. And,

you know, last but not least, have an opportunity to make a record with the stolen sweets and to work in that world for a little while, which eventually led us out to New Orleans. And getting a chance to play on the steps of the Commando building in Jackson Square, where they signed the Louisiana Purchase and being part of like this big cultural occasion. You know, basically just like being recognized by another city that has been so influential, not only to me, but to the world artistically. Yeah, you know, the music you're playing is close to our hearts. We're going to have you come out here and play for us. That was amazing to me, you know. And, yeah, so I've had quite a few wonderful opportunities. And I mean, those are just the ones that come to mind right now. There's at least as many that, you know, I haven't mentioned people,

artists, have come in contact with who I've been, you know, very important in my musical upbringing. Do you think of yourself, and they may not be different, but do you think of yourself as an artist or a working musician? I think of myself primarily as a working musician, frankly. I think that, you know, I have the ability to create art. But for me, that's such a personal thing that, you know, I hold it pretty close to my chest nowadays. There was a time in my life when, you know, the impetus for my decisions was more closely related to my work as an artist. But to me, not a working musician, you know, I am, but I also am allowed to create

within the parameters of that in playing jazz and playing improvised music. And so I think I found a pretty happy medium. So tell me a little bit about the trio, which seems to accordion up and down as other friends joined me, because when we saw Keith Krebs' trio playing at the meeting, there was like 70. But when you played in our studio, just out of the trio come about how long has it been around, and how would you describe the type of music that you guys play? The peak Krebs' trio features David Langanus on guitar and Keith Brush on bass. And the trio came about more for originally, anyways, for practical reasons. I always like to have a working band that I can plug into a gig, you know, whether it's playing weddings or working restaurant or a bar

or whatnot. And it just seemed like the smartest choice to hire the guys that I played with in the stolen suites to be the peak Krebs trio, because it would tighten up our ability to communicate musically. And it would create a repertoire that we could draw from when we were playing stolen suites shows. And it was just a pragmatic decision. But in the bargain, I managed to get two guys who are both incredibly sensitive and able musicians. You know, just two of the best musicians I've ever played with. It just, I just lucked into it with those guys. And it's really paid off in space because I've learned so much about music through them. They're both educated jazz musicians at what the college has studied. You know, that's so different from my approach. That, yeah, I like to think that we've learned from each other, you know. So

that's how that group came about. And, you know, in any given week, you know, we're playing two, three, four times around town, restaurants, primarily now. And, you know, just evolving. Every gig is part of that evolution, part of the sort of evolved communication that we have going on between us. As a musician, what's that as a work musician? What's the difference between a gig at the Maiden, for example, a gig where people are dancing and you're part of the background, but you're also the reason people are there and people are drinking and eating and stuff. And a gig like at the OPP studios, which you don't need to mention by name, but just that sense of there was an audience watching you and you guys were the focal point. What's the difference between those two different types of performance for you? The difference between a gig at a restaurant or a bar and a gig in a more concert type setting is

really one of sensitivity to your audiences. In a concert setting, we have much more latitude in terms of playing in a very sensitive way. We can communicate on a level that's a bit more subtle. And, you know, when we're playing for a bar room full of swing dancers, you know, you want to put out a lot more energy. And, you know, it's just a matter of understanding your audiences. You know, they're both performances. We're still playing the same tunes, but we're playing differently in each situation. You know, I think that in both cases, we're entertainers. You know, we have to entertain people. But in a concert setting, you know, there's that intimacy that you have with the audience and so like you're entertaining

them on a very personal level. And you're trying to reach them in subtle ways. Whereas, you know, it's 11 o 'clock, I'm in a bar, I'm playing, you know, minor swing or something like that. And, you know, I want people to dance and have a good time and I want the bar to sell a lot of drinks and I want to, you know, I want to keep my job by entertaining people, you know. So, yeah, but it's just two sides of the same coin. It's just understanding how to be subtle to both situations. You guys are going to ask, could you do either one all the time? No, I don't think that I could do one or the other exclusively. I think that, you know, having the ability to come in contact with and communicate with other musicians, my musicians on a more intimate level can be so much more fulfilling artistically. We played a

gig the other evening at the Heathman to a very quiet room that was acoustically very, it had a really nice warm sound. And, you know, it's just us in a corner with a fireplace, people are super cocktails and we had the ability to just really listen to what we were doing. And it's sort of like having a conversation with someone where you're talking about a very deep subject and you have the time and the space to be very articulate. And that's what that experience was like and it was very profound for all of us, you know, after the gig we were like, man, that was really something. But then, you know, when you play a place like the Maiden or Mrs. B. Station or any of Andina or any of our regular, weekly or monthly gigs, that the reward sometimes is in the energy that you put out that is bounced back to you from the audience. You know, if you're really rocking the house and people are, people are really responding to what you're doing. You get a different type of

reward from that. You feel like, you know, wow, we really rock this place tonight. This is a lot of fun, you know, two sides of the same coin. But you have to have the coin, you know, you can't just have one of the other. Otherwise, now, it just, it's too monochromatic. This is probably my last question. And it's kind of a big one. So, why do you think you play music? I play music because I have to. I honestly believe that I'm here on this earth to be a sensitive conduit for something that's far greater than me. And, you know, I'm fortunate that I was able to find that out and to be open to it in my life and to live in a place where I could pursue that. And it's really as simple as that. It's a big question, yeah. But I think that if I were to do anything else, I would be

not living up to my, not as a potential, but my calling. And, you know, and when it's, if you got in those terms, that's the true reward. You know, if you could, if you could identify things like that in yourself and be willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to do it. You know, I haven't had a stable family life. I, you know, I make it month to month. You know, it's not like I'm getting rich or anything. But I'm happier than most, I think. And I'm luckier than most. And that's, that's really the true reward at the end of my life. I can look back on it and say, yeah, you know, I, I did what I was supposed to do. I didn't, I didn't, I made a full world of dice. It wasn't a half, a half measure.

That's, that's what being a musician means to me. It's just being, or in ours in general, just being sensitive, just abandoning yourself to the fact that all yours are conduit. You know, that's why you're here on the surface. You're supposed to be sensitive to things and express, express that sensitivity outwardly to people because it adds to an overall sense of humanity. You know, it's like why we're, we're alive. You know, it's just to express our experiences and, and make that an equal exchange and have people reflect on their own life through that. That's what I think. Anything else you want to say, but I didn't ask you? I don't think so. I think, I think, I think, I think you got it. Do you think we should, I needed to be able to be real, okay? Go. Hopefully it wasn't too philosophical, but you catch really. Well, it's because the dance is huge.

Will, you're going to be on TV, buddy. Yeah. You're going to be on a TV. And, you know, it's the luckiest dog in Portland right here. Okay.