From Hippie to Hit Maker

During his lengthy career, Steve Miller has been through a schizophrenic’s short list of musical personas, from “Gangster of Love” to “Joker” to “Space Cowboy.” But through it all, he remains a hit maker.

With a vast repertoire collected during 30 years in the business, Miller will open the 1997 season at the tree-lined Santa Barbara County Bowl, a venue that opened 60 years ago.

Miller began as a blues guitarist and has lived variously in Milwaukee, Dallas, Chicago, San Francisco, Grant’s Pass, and these days, Seattle. Combining blues with elements of pop, rock and jazz, Miller has sold millions of records.

And he continues to live long and prosper on FM radio, with songs such as “Living in the U.S.A.,” “Abracadabra,” “Jetliner” and “Fly Like an Eagle,” which by itself has sold more than 12 million copies.

No more 11-month tours for the fiftysomething Miller. The current tour will be just 52 gigs, still sufficient to elicit heartfelt “Oh, wows” from generations of fans.

The road show numbers 34 people, four 18 wheelers, five coaches plus state-of-the-art sound and a light show. Miller spoke from Portland about the Jokers Ball Tour and other stuff, too.

Tell me a Santa Barbara story.

Oh gosh, I really can’t think of anything. Usually when I’m in town, I’m just passing through or on my way out. I’ve been touring for about 30 years, and I’ve probably played Santa Barbara about 20 times.

How did you get those blues?

I got the blues through Les Paul, who was a friend of my parents when we lived in Milwaukee. Les Paul taught me my first chords. This was in the late ‘40s. He was a great blues player, and when I heard that, I was galvanized. Later, after we moved to Texas, one day this guy shows up in a flesh-colored Cadillac with leopard skin seat covers. It was T-Bone Walker, and he played at our house. He taught me how to play lead guitar. Back in those days, the blues was what you heard on the radio. I started my first band when I was 12 years old and we played every weekend until we got out of high school. And we played the blues.

What was it like in Chicago?

After I got out of college in 1964, I went to Chicago and Paul Butterfield was just taking off and I realized I could make a living as a musician and I wouldn’t have to teach comparative literature. Muddy Waters, Junior Wells, Buddy Guy--all those guys were friends of mine. I had already learned the Texas blues, so this was like graduate school for me. It was the first time I had hung out with mature men, and not a bunch of kids who wanted to be rock stars. I learned the lifestyle from those guys. When I moved to San Francisco, we were still a blues band. Then I started writing my own stuff.

What was it like being a rock star in the ‘60s?

It was real tough and I was barely a rock star. We could hardly get any airplay and there was no place to play, and the state-of-the-art equipment wasn’t invented yet. People didn’t like us; we had long hair. One time in Massachusetts, a hotel guy took my credit card because he didn’t like the way I looked. Everywhere we went we were these hippie-dippy guys and we got into a lot of trouble.

How did you get complete artistic control when you first signed with Capitol?

I’d had a taste of the record business, so I saw what it was: B.S. The labels all descended on San Francisco (during the Summer of Love) and they all had money in their pockets. I knew this prosecuting attorney and I hired him to represent me. We decided to work ‘em over before they worked us over. Fourteen labels wanted to sign me, but we whittled it down to three. When I signed with Capitol, I got enough money to make five albums, and I had complete artistic control. Without that agreement, I wouldn’t still be working and I wouldn’t have had a career in music.

How did the success of “The Joker” change things for you?

We were touring 11 months of the year playing in Paramount theaters, basically the George Burns vaudeville circuit. “The Joker” was about my last album for Capitol--they didn’t really understand us. We were out there with no tour support. It was all really underground; we were the punks of our time. We were struggling and I had to almost hit the label over the head with a hammer to get them to do anything. When we came back off the road, I found a check in my mailbox for $380,000 mixed in with the junk mail. It had been in there for six weeks. Now that changed my life. I took a year off, wrote “Fly Like an Eagle” and bought a house.

Where’s your star in Hollywood?

That’s funny because now that I think about it, it’s on Vine Street, not far from Capitol.

Has the Classic Rock label helped or hurt you?

It’s been a big help to me. When radio started to get professional, owners would spend $300,000 to do listener studies, hire program directors and decide on a playlist. After all the research, I came out on the list of artists they were going to play, which would be that core group of artists, maybe a dozen or so, that you hear over and over and over. All of a sudden I was selling a million copies of an album I had recorded 18 years before.

Who goes to Steve Miller shows, old hippies?

Most of my fans are between 12 and 25 years old. My greatest hits album has sold over 6 million copies, so now my audience is really young. It’s basically a big family affair now.

Some families show Junior a “Friday the 13th” marathon, but your family turned you onto music.

Yes. My mother was a musician and her whole family were musicians. My Uncle Dale, who just turned 84, gave me my first guitar. And my dad knew a lot of musicians. I was born with a gift of singing and playing.

BE THERE

Steve Miller Band at Santa Barbara County Bowl, 1122 Milpas St., Sat., 7 p.m. Tickets: $21.50-$39.50. Call 962-7411.