BAM Magazine (May 16th 1997)

The Continuing Story Of No Doubt… Are They Happy Now?

In November 1995 when No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom was just a few months old, BAM magazine chose the Orange County-based quartet to grace the cover of our semi-annual "Local Music" issue. Now, a year and a half later, No Doubt are back; not only on the cover of BAM but back in town for a two-night stint at their hometown arena, the Anaheim Pond.

Needless to say, a lot has happened since the Fall of '95. From Details to Rolling Stone, the members of No Doubt have become fodder for a media frenzy for over a year. It's been almost impossible to avoid stories about the cute little band from Orange County who plugged away for years and years in clubs throughout Southern California, until finally landing a record deal. And as the story goes, after signing with Interscope, they release a self-titled debut which dies on the vine and they are predictably released from their contract. No Doubt are labeless and nearly hopeless as they withstand drastic line-up changes, including the loss of main songwriter Eric Stefani, leadsinger Gwen's brother. But the band perseveres and are subsequently picked up by Trauma Records (which, incidentally, has a distribution agreement with Interscope). After eight long years of existence No Doubt releases Tragic Kingdom with only humble expectations. It sells 10 million copies worldwide and hits No. 1 on the Billboard album charts for nine weeks. But you probably know this already.

You've also probably heard the sad tale of woe regarding the relationship between Gwen Stefani and bassist Tony Kanal, and how their messy break-up fueled the grief-stricken Stefani to reach deep in her wounded soul and cathartically express via lyrics the steps of her recovery in songs such as "Spiderwebs," "Happy Now," and, of course, "Don't Speak." And just like that omnipresent hit, you've probably heard it before, many times over.

"People are probably sick of reading the same story," states guitarist Tom Dumont, regarding the press angle that provides the basis for nearly every No Doubt story.

"You have to realize we broke up like two and a half years ago," sighs Gwen, proving she herself is ready to move on.

So consider this the second part of the No Doubt saga, picking up where everyone else has left off.

Since their super-sonic rocket ride to the upper echelons of the show-biz stratosphere, we find these four Orange County natives on the third night of their third national tour for Tragic Kingdom. This time, they're headlining enorma-domes in cities across the country.

"We had a choice," says Tom, while comfortably reclining in one of the upholstered chairs of the band's luxurious touring vessel. "We were either gonna do a stripped-down club tour or Spinal Tap. We opted for Spinal Tap."

What Tom is referring to is the grand-scale traveling circus they've amassed to drag with them across the country. And they've spared no expense. Packed up in five big-rig trucks is a stage set created by the Cirque de Soleil designers. The elaborate backdrop looks like something from an Anaheim nightmare. To best explain it, remember the scene in the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy is at one moment merrily skipping down the yellow-brick road when she turns a corner to find herself in a haunted apple-tree forest? OK, now replace Dorothy with Gwen, ruby slippers with Doc Martin's, and replace the evil apple trees with even more menacing orange trees, and there you have it.

But it's not just lavish sets that make this outing different. The band themselves are traveling in a vehicle fit for royalty. This ultimate behemoth transport features stained glass windows, two Sony big-screen monitors, a state-of-the-art sound system, a well-stocked kitchenette with brass fixtures and sleeping compartments, each with its very own TV monitor.

Joining the band members is an entourage that includes not only the crew and an occasional boyfriend/girlfriend, but a personal trainer, a private security guard for Gwen, two back-up musicians Gabriel McNair and Stephen Bradley, and Sherry Leiker whose job it is to make each backstage dressing room a soothing and comfortable environment.

It's here backstage at the Big Sky Pavilion in Phoenix, AZ, in one of the ambient-rich rooms filled with incense, candles and tapestries tacked up on the walls where the members of No Doubt--which in addition to the aforementioned includes drummer Adrian Young--graciously take time out of their hectic schedule to discuss this new tour, their astounding success and, most importantly, how their lives have changed since becoming the pop darlings of the late '90s.

It goes without saying that such sudden success and media attention will dramatically change the lifestyles of anyone involved. But when asked what has been the most dramatic change, the band uniformly agrees the strains of nearly two years of constant touring has taken its toll on their personal and physical lives. Most importantly, they all miss their home.

"The relationship with my family is kinda strange now," says Adrian rather pensively. "When I left to go out on tour for this album, I still needed help paying my rent. Now, I've become more of an adult in a lot of ways. I'm like this independent 'man' or whatever. So when I come back home, my parents want everything to be the same. But I'm not the same."

"So many things have changed I could just make a list," sighs Gwen in a tone barely above a whisper. "It's [when I go home] that I can really see the changes. Like I'll be shopping at my local supermarket and some full-on chola holding her six-year-old daughter will come up to me and say, 'Hey, what's up Gwen? Girl, you're cool.' And I'll be thinking, 'How does this woman know about my band?' It's really cool that all kinds of people are totally into it, but it's just so different. I never used to go into a grocery store and have everyone who works there know who I am. That's weird."

Tony also agrees that adjusting to life on the road has been the biggest change. "It's a whole new lifestyle," he says. "I don't really have a home anymore. We go back to Orange County for like a week or two and it takes just that long to depressurize and get settled. Then we're off again."

Sometime late last year rumors started surfacing about the band. And no, not about Gwen's romance with Bush singer and labelmate Gavin Rossdale (we'll leave that to the tabloids), but about how the band were being over-worked by their record label and management. According to insider gossip, the band members were being worked so hard that they were all on the brink of collapse. But when the subject of being exploited was broached, all agreed that nobody pushed them as hard as they pushed themselves.

"All decisions go through us," says Tony firmly. And within minutes of talking to him, it becomes evident that, for Tony, No Doubt is a hands-on project. From photo approval to tour planning, he's the one driving this bus. "Of course," he adds, "the record company would like us to keep touring so that we'll sell more records, but before doing anything, we all decide if we're healthy enough and if it's something we all really want to do. We always have the final vote."

On this tour, however, the band have slowed the pace. Actually, they had to; they had no choice. Since last year, Gwen has suffered from severe strain to her vocal chords resulting in a slew of canceled appearances. For a time, she was even forced to refrain from any conversation. Don't speak, indeed. In hopes of avoiding further damage to her now-frail voice, the tour was routed so they would play four nights, then take one night off. As opposed to their previous No Doubt non-stop work ethic, which had the band performing up to nine consecutive nights.

"We decided to make this tour more of a summer vacation," states Adrian with an easy smile. "We take time to relax during the day and play rock 'n' roll at night. It's definitely to preserve Gwen's voice, but we want to have a little fun, too."

Regarding her vocal condition, Gwen claims it is much improved, but adds: "Although my voice is getting better, it's still a little rough. I don't know why this had to happen, it just blows my mind. I think I'm doing everything I can to make it better, but sometimes I just can't help it. I talked to my doctor and he said, 'Gwen, I know you're gonna be up there onstage and you're gonna want to give it your all. But you must hold back. I try, but it's hard... Sometimes, though, I catch myself and bring it down.

"I was never a regimented sort of person," she admits. "but suddenly I find myself having to do all these things on a daily basis, like using my humidifier, drinking tea and all that stuff. I have to admit, it's really annoying. But any person who was doing what I do would have to do all that stuff, too," she says, as though she's justifying a "weakness." "Even the Vandals singer [Dave Quackenbush] has had surgery on his vocal chords, like, twice."

It's no coincidence that the Vandals singer is cited here. For most of this tour, No Doubt have invited their fellow hometown punk band to join them. Although it might seem like No Doubt were doing a noble thing by bringing this long-suffering band who, like No Doubt, have spent years slugging it out in the underground without much commercial and financial success, actually, the decision was a little less admirable.

"Taking the Vandals was purely a selfish move," giggles Gwen. "We took them on tour with us just so we could be thoroughly entertained every night." And anyone who isn't familiar with the Vandals probably wouldn't understand their sense of humor. Now, thanks to No Doubt, audiences across the country will get a glimpse into the wild 'n' wacky antics of the Vandals. For this Phoenix show, in fact, one Vandal member delightfully mooned the audience, which consisted of mostly screaming pre-teen girls and their mortified parents.

"But I feel sorry for the Vandals," she confesses, "They're playing all the wrong punk cards. It's, like, totally illegal for the Vandals to be on tour with No Doubt. It's so wrong. It's like 'pop band plays with punk band.' I'm sure that when they play club shows on their nights off, they're gonna get beat up by the punkers. 'You're playing with No Doubt?! You're a bunch of sell outs!'" she says in mock male voice as she throws a punch into the air. "But they love it. [Guitarist] Warren [Fitzgerald] said to me, 'This is so weird, everyone, including the audience, is so nice. Nobody spits on me.'"

Speaking of credibility, many bands who emerge from the underground and infiltrate the mainstream are often met with a tremendous backlash from longtime fans. So when the syrupy-sweet ballad "Don't Speak" was chosen as a single, did it come with any reservations? Did they consider the fact that they might possibly lose their already respectable alterna-rock success by growing too fast? Did they fear that a departure from their ska-punk formula could further alienate the more hard-edged fans?

"We gave it a lot of thought," Tom replies, regarding the selection of the single. "There were some of those apprehensions. But there were a couple of things that, for me, made it OK. The first one is we've always played slow songs in our set. Even on our first album there's a sad, ballad-type song. Besides, we've always had this philosophy: We play whatever we feel like playing."

"And we've always played the ballads live," Gwen chimes in. "It was always a very intense part of the show. Even though the audience likes to go off to our punk songs, they never seemed to mind that we would break down and do something that was more slow and intimate. They'd get into it. I've always felt fortunate because a lot of bands we play with could never get away with doing anything like that."

"Stylistically, we switch between genres a lot," explains Tom. "And doing a sugar-coated song is fun. There's this kinda campy element to it, too. Kinda cheesy, but in a fun way. Having Gwen in the band obviously gives us a more feminine approach. And we've never been afraid of that feminine side of us. Now, I don't mean to pigeon-hole femininity with ballads, but for some reason most of us think of punk rock as very masculine and ballads as more feminine."

"Also a song is a song," asserts Gwen confidently. "If it's fast or slow, it doesn't matter as long as it's good and people connect with it. A song can be really intense without having that unka-unka drum beat," she says, flailing her arms as though she's playing drums with a hardcore band.

"Actually," she continues, "'Don't Speak' is an older song that was re-written. It used to be more upbeat, more of a '70s rock-type thing. The lyrics were 'Oh I love you so much, everything's so good.' But then Tony and I broke up and it turned into a sad song.

"I can see how you can look at our band and think it's an unusual song for us, but you've gotta look back on all the songs that were written for this record that didn't make it. If you did, then you'd see that every song is weird and none of them go together," she says rolling her eyes and smiling.

Regarding the accusations of selling out, it seems that No Doubt have, so far, been able to rise above the backlash.

"It's a lot less of a backlash then I thought we were gonna get," admits Adrian.

"We never claimed to be a punk band in the first place," interjects Tony. "We've always been a rock band that mixes in ska and hardcore and reggae and whatever. We were only punk in that we did things our own way. And, really, that's what punk is all about, doing things your way and going against the grain. Punk rock is not just playing one style of music with one hardcore beat on the drums and that's all you can do."

Tom adds: "A lot of bands are constantly defending themselves in the press trying to prove that they're punk. To me, I'd rather make good music--or what I think is good music--and make that the priority. We make the music that we believe in and we feel that we're being true to ourselves. That's all the validation we need."

"Credibility used to be more important to me," remarks Tony. "It's nice to feel you have the respect from critics and other bands and all that kind of stuff. But for me, what's more important now is integrity and maintaining that same integrity we always have."

"We're still looked upon by this small but very vocal minority as not being punk and all that other stuff," says Tom. "By this time, though, it beads off us like water on a waxed car."

In the next few weeks, the big trucks, the crew, the entourage and the band themselves will all roll into town for their jubilant return to Anaheim. What will be running through their minds as they walk onstage at their hometown arena? Will they be thinking about how they're showing up those who've ever doubted them? Or perhaps now their parents will finally realize that they weren't merely wasting time for all those years? Nope. Gwen, Tony, Adrian and Tom will only be thinking about putting on another solid set of non-stop music fanfare, just like they've always done.

And just as she's so naturally inclined, Gwen will make sure that everyone in the entire auditorium from the front row to the nose-bleed seats are thoroughly entertained. But since this is their hometown, they'll also be concerned about their friends and family.

"[Playing the Pond] in some way is gonna be the greatest high," states Adrian earnestly. "But in some way it's gonna suck because everyone we know is gonna be there. It'll be just too much for one brain to handle. And we're gonna have to accommodate every single person we've ever known. Whether it's through conversation, or through backstage passes or the right seats, inevitably somebody's gonna be unhappy. It'll be a stressful night, but once we get on stage, everything will be fine."

"It'll probably be one of the biggest...uh, what would you call it? Accomplishments?" claims Gwen. "I still remember when [the Pond] was being built, Tony and I would drive by it and say, 'Hey, one day we're gonna play there.' Of course, we were totally joking. But when we played there opening for Bush we couldn't even believe it. This time, it's our show."

"It's a pretty powerful feeling to do two nights, too," Adrian adds proudly. "In 20 years, we'll all be able to look back and remember that we did it. That's fuckin' great!"

But what will they do after this tour? Currently on their fifth single, "Sunday Morning," with its infectious melody and up-tempo beat, it'll undoubtedly give the band enough juice for yet another tour. They're considering taking the show to the Far East and back through Europe again. But what about a new album? Any concerns about how they'll follow-up such a successful debut?

"I'm not worried about it," states Gwen flatly.

"There's no failing from here on out." Adrian interrupts. "Sure, we'd all like another hit record, but I don't think any of us are gonna need intensive therapy just because our next album only sells 500,000 copies. We'll be OK."

"Plus," adds Gwen, "I think we all feel really satisfied. If it all ended tomorrow, I think we'd all be happy, because after 10 years of playing together, it would be a really good ending. We've gotten more than we've ever wanted.

"Besides," she laughs, "we didn't think this record was even gonna come out, so actually, we just feel lucky to be able to do another one."