I visited Hamburg over the weekend, and while walking around by the harbor, was fortunate enough to stumble across the World/Inferno Friendship Society playing a secret show in the upstairs of a small rock club. The room was decorated with streamers and balloons; apparently it was somebody’s birthday. On stage, singer Jack Terricloth explained that the Brooklyn-based World/Inferno had organized an entire month-long European tour around playing their friend’s birthday party. That seemed like a pretty crazy plan, but I had to admit that it also sounded like something these folks might do. They aren’t called a Friendship Society for nothing.
I have been a fan and friend of the band since I first encountered them over a decade ago. World/Inferno has been touring and recording since 1996, with an eclectic and ever-shifting line-ups of instrumentalists, anarchic high-energy performances, and a musical palette spanning punk, soul, klezmer and jazz. Terricloth is the consistent member, a charismatic and diabolically witty front man whose lyrics exhibit a similarly eclectic range of references, including Paul Robeson, Philip K. Dick, Weimar-era Germany and Zen Philosophy. He is also a fiction writer, and has published a very entertaining book of short stories, The Collected Cloth.
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After the band finished their set, the evening descended into the perennial post-show debauchery. I woke up on the floor of a friends’ apartment the next morning. The vision that greeted me immediately upon opening my eyes was Jack Terricloth, standing in the kitchen in a rumpled suit and pouring himself his first drink of the day, a vodka and orange juice. I got out my trusty portable recorder and the following interview ensued.
VICE: Is that your usual breakfast?
Jack: Oh no. I usually like it with mineral water.
You’re in your early forties, and you’ve been touring in bands since your early twenties. Are you still having fun?
I do actually enjoy the touring process. Obviously, a lot of my contemporaries don’t. I hate to sound idealistic, but it is “the burning point of life”—I’m actually doing what I want to do. I sleep better on tour. I don’t have the terrible panic I have when I’m at home.
Terrible panic? About what?
Well, you know– there’s always the fear that you’re not working hard enough.
What do you do when you’re at home?
I stare into space a lot. I don’t have a day job anymore, which is by no means a sign of success. It just means I don’t have a job anymore. I write a couple of hours a day. I’ve got two novels going and when I get stuck on one I just move to the other. I do the cafe writing thing so I’ll actually leave the house. So I write, sit in a cafe, look creepy… and wait to get back on the bus.
Can you write while you’re on tour?
I can, but it’s not very easy. So I don’t usually. I have to be very engaged to write. And the van is not a good place to be engaged.
I imagine the band is a lot of work. You’ve got almost an entirely new line-up since the last time I saw you. Is it difficult to recruit new band members? Your music isn’t standard three-chord stuff. It must be pretty rigorous to audition for World/Inferno.
No, you pretty much just have to show up. I tend to surround myself with people with chops. Then I off-handedly mention, “you know it would be nice if you would show up at the airport on such-and-such date.” We recruit people by innuendo and gossip. I hate auditions. They are extremely stressful.
How many people have been in World/Inferno at this point?
I’ve never sat down to count it, but it’s got to be in the forties by now. We still work with some of the old people. It’s just that none of them want to tour.
Well, touring is a grueling life. You are forced to party and drink for months on end. Do you ever think about a career change? Maybe focusing more on your writing?
I either have, or had, a literary agent… he told me, “it’s got be an arc.” So I wrote an arc. I wrote your typical, you know, vampire science-fiction mystery novel. He said, “Just pick one.” I said, “What do you mean? I wrote it. It’s done.” He said, “No, no one’s going to read it, you have to make it either vampire, mystery or science-fiction.” So I got mad and didn’t talk to him for a while. Then at another point he told me to give up the music business. “Music is going nowhere for you! You’ve got to keep with the writing!” Which is what a literary agent would say, of course. But I got mad at him and, again, didn’t talk to him for a while. And, uh, I’m actually still in the not talking to him stage.
What is it about the form of the novel that interests you?
I think novels are more rewarding to read. I want to give the reading public something more rewarding than short stories! And it’s a challenge. But like most challenges, maybe I won’t ever finish. I’m very laissez-faire about ambition. I know I have it, but I don’t want to think about it or ever talk to it.
What’s your fundamental message? You have a pretty young audience, do you feel pressure to be a positive role model?
The fundamental message of World/Inferno Friendship Society is hope. You don’t have to give up your ideals. The average 20-something thinks, “I’ll do this for a few years and then get a real job.” There is a whole alternative culture out there. You don’t have to get a real job.