USA Today (Dec. 16th 1996)
No Doubt, a surprise
Quartet's danceable pop defies rock's down beat
After nine years plugging away in obscurity, the group remains humble in the face of fame
Superstar albums stalled on the chart. Exciting trends failed to materialize. Record sales flattened. Tours fizzled. There's no doubt 1996 has been a disappointing year for the music industry.
On the other hand, there's No Doubt.
After struggling anonymously for nine years, the Southern California quartet exploded to become this year's surprise success story. Even to themselves.
"None of us thought this could happen to a dorky band like us," says Gwen Stefani, 26, the band's attention-grabber and pop's reigning goddess to preteen girls. "We all thought we'd have normal lives. I only wanted to be a mom."
The group transcended the glut of angst-filled rock with a frothy and upbeat mix of guitar rock, pop-punk and danceable Jamaican-born ska. Its Tragic Kingdom, released 14 months ago, finally climbs to No. 1 in Billboard today after selling 229,000 copies last week.
Heavy airplay of third single Don't Speak helped boost total sales to nearly 5 million copies, double the tally of Hootie & the Blowfish's latest and four times that of current releases by heavyweights R.E.M. and Pearl Jam.
"My goal was to reach 100,000," says drummer Adrian Young, 27. "Now I'll be bummed if we sell less than that this week."
Yet No Doubt's unexpected rise during an alarming industry slump has not instilled its members with steely confidence. Despite conquering several radio formats, MTV and the concert circuit, No Doubt expresses grave doubts about its durability in a fickle pop world.
"We feel validated, but I don't feel any certainty that we're going to sell many records next time," says guitarist Tom Dumont, 28. "Not because of our artistic ability but because of the nature of the industry and pop culture. People get sick of stuff."
"All of us have been really level-headed about the reality of this business," says India-born bassist Tony Kanal, 26. He and Dumont are one semester short of college diplomas and intend to complete their degrees. "What goes up must come down, and we're trying to mentally prepare ourselves for that. People are so quick to change what they think is the cool thing."
No Doubt never believed it would pass muster as cool.
"We still think about having normal lives, because this," Young says, "is an alternate reality."
Humble, practical and giddy with the astonished glee of lottery winners, No Doubt is consciously sidestepping fame's minefield of arrogance, grand expectations and greed. Stefani and Kanal still live with their parents in Orange County. Dumont and Young live in modest homes in Long Beach.
"Tom is obsessed with spending as little money as possible," Young says.
"I want to retain my old lifestyle and not outspend my means and not think I'm rich and then have it all fall apart," says Dumont, who also proudly points out that he and Young have not traded in their longtime girlfriends. "Success has the potential to poison your mind with weird, crappy thoughts. Some people would break up with their girlfriends to go out with a supermodel or something stupid like that. It's a slimy business."
And a business No Doubt never expected to dominate, especially after toiling on the fringes for nine troubled years. Eric Stefani, Gwen's brother, was the creative force behind No Doubt when it formed in 1986. Charter member John Spence killed himself in 1987. A subsequent singer left to marry his pregnant 17-year-old girlfriend, leaving vocal duties to Stefani.
When Dumont, a devotee of Kiss and Rush, brought his rock sensibility to the band in 1988, No Doubt was enjoying regional underground renown in all-ages clubs.
The band signed to Interscope in late 1991 and released its peppy self-titled debut in 1992, when grunge crowded the pop landscape. Interscope withdrew tour subsidies and let the album die.
"We thought, wow, the label didn't do its job," Dumont recalls. "Looking back, I can see they did the right thing. Our album didn't sound like anything popular at the time. It was the wrong climate. Interscope was patient and stuck with us."
The prevailing trend of brooding Nirvana-bes wasn't the only challenge facing No Doubt. After a seven-year romance, Kanal dumped Stefani. And Eric, the band's chief songwriter, quit to take a job as an animator on The Simpsons. No Doubt considered disbanding but decided to complete Tragic Kingdom, a reference to life in the suburbia surrounding Disneyland.
Stefani, weaned on ska bands like Madness and soundtracks for Annie, Evita and The Sound of Music, says Eric's departure forced a creative reshuffle that left her the task of lyricist.
"Tragic Kingdom deals with little issues that I've dealt with in my small, little life in Anaheim," she says. "It's about my boyfriend, uh, my ex-boyfriend, and that whole traumatic experience."
She vented spleen and grief over the breakup in songs like Happy Now? and Don't Speak, currently the most popular single on radio (10,000-plus plays per week).
Kanal was initially uncomfortable hearing his personal life broadcast to the public, but excitement took over.
"Anyway," he says, "you can't make a record that's sincere and honest unless it's coming from your heart, and obviously this came from Gwen's heart. It's wrong to take these songs too seriously. They're not very specific. My name's not in them. They could apply to so many people's relationships."
After splitting two years ago, the couple remain friends and joke about the past affair. Writing the songs was healing for Gwen, though she'll be less candid in the future.
"I write about what happens to me, and that was a major thing. It would be stupid to not talk about it. Then it got crazy because people were reading the lyrics and going, `That Tony is such a jerk, and how could he do that to Gwen?' It's not fair to him because it's only my side of the story. He didn't write songs about Gwen being a jerk."
Gwen being a standout is a thornier issue. The coquettish bottle-blonde, a combination of Cyndi Lauper kitsch and Greta Garbo glamour, has emerged as No Doubt's midriff-baring diva who gets attention at the expense of bandmates.
"It's just rude when a magazine ignores the guys. And it's hard on me, because I feel guilty. By talking about it and being aware of it, we've been able to conquer it. Well, not completely," she says.
The spotlight on Gwen can be damaging because "a lot of people write her off as just a pretty blond girl with a cute voice," Dumont says. "She's getting shortchanged. She's done a good job writing lyrics and she has something to say -- nothing profound; she's not some insane poet."
Insisting the band remains a democracy, Young pragmatically points out that Stefani's sex appeal goosed record sales.
"It doesn't hurt that people like to look at Gwen," he says.
So far, No Doubt's most effective means of checking egos and maintaining a healthy chemistry is "to act like fifth-graders, basically," Young says. "We'll get on the tour bus and talk about butts. We're like kids giggling about human body parts when the teacher's not around. That's how we keep ourselves sane."