Story: John M. Mullin  
courtesy of collegemusic.com  

On the day of House of Pain’s third album’s release, Eric Schrody (more commonly known as Everlast) quit the hip-hop trio in disgust. “That’s how bad it was,” he says, “I was done with it.” To Schrody, H.O.P. was “boring, routine, and no longer rewarding.” In retrospect, “I liked the work, but not the image that stuck with it ... the drunken frat boy retard. Some of those people are still coming to shows and slam dancing to ‘What It’s Like’ (the fourth track on Everlast’s current release, an acoustic-driven ballad supported by an upbeat rhythm track, and smothered in heavy strings.), “and the honest to God truth is, I think that’s retarded. I honestly think these people have no intention or ambition to grow up. I’ve been through so much that it may sound like arrogance or whatever, but I just ain’t got time for this bullshit. And I dis these people at the show. These people saw a Nirvana video back in ‘92 and they decided it was cool to mosh ... I mean it’s kinda over."

This is the stigma that frustrated and ultimately forced Schrody to leave the trio. He continues, "I mean I’m Irish and I’m proud of it. But I get some stupid comments about the whole thing, like, ‘What’s up with the whole Irish thing?’ What? Get over it, thank you."

When Schrody left H.O.P. he didn’t intend to make another record. He grew sick of everything to do with the business. "The worst part about the industry are the people. The fake people who are your best friends when you’re on top, and turn their backs on you when you’re not. They’re snakes. They’re dirty, they’re shallow. If somebody tells me they work for a record company, don’t expect me to like them. I don’t care if they’re David Geffen, their record company people and I don’t care. I mean if I have to go work at Home Depot or Builder’s Emporium, so be it. I mean I’ll work at Wal-Mart to make my money. When I quit House of Pain we were making lots of money. It wasn’t like I walked away from something dead."

When asked why he didn’t choose a smaller independent label, less tainted with industry politics, for the recording of Whitey Ford, Schrody explains that, “I had no other choice but to go with my label. I can’t front, they’ve (Tommy Boy ) done their job. But at the same time I’m not going to be like all ‘lovey dovey.’ They’re record company people ... they’re an alien race to me. What do record people do? They make more money than the people who make the product. The guy who owns my record company ... I’m putting millions of dollars into his pocket. And I don’t have millions of dollars. It’s just not cool to me."

Schrody is playing out wherever he can, not caring about the promotion or the glitz. “I’m playing as much as I can play, and I don’t care if there’s ten people or ten thousand. So far,” he says, “I feel it’s working. Right now I’m enjoying my music more than I ever have before. I mean, that’s all that matters now. I’ve had lots of money, all the kinds of bitches, and stupid shit like that, and none of that ever made me as happy as when I’m making music."

As far as composing music, Schrody says he doesn’t write songs, he simply just writes feelings and ideas. Later on they manifest themselves into something more structured. With his recent heart condition, (Schrody suffered a massive heart attack, due to torn cardiac muscle, earlier this year.) Schrody has experienced a number of new inspirational emotions that he hasn’t even tapped into yet. “I mean how can that experience not affect my music? It’s a matter of seeing what happens."

Concerning creativity, Schrody wants to walk away with a record that he can be proud of, and be influenced by no one except those directly involved in it’s production. “That’s how I deem success.” When it comes to other artists’ successes, Schrody certainly has opinions. “Puffy and Mace are such easy targets for people to judge, it’s really not even fair. They are like the Robert Goulet of rap music right now. It’s Vegas and it’s audio-visual glutany, and it’s obvious. If you like that, then that’s your mentality. And it’s really not Puffy’s fault, it’s whoever is liking it’s fault. At first I was like: Screw Puffy. But now I say, ‘You go Puffy, make your money.’ Because he’s laughing all the way to the bank! These kids are gonna grow up in ten years and be like, ‘Puffy’s a billionnaire and I’m still sitting here following what he was saying, and I’m nowhere."

He continues, "Fishbone’s from the LA music scene. So am I. I’ve been making records since like 1988 ... I just know them from being around. They were the real ska ... all this fake ska music is so huge right now, and it’s all garbage compared to the original stuff like Fishbone and the Specials. I don’t mean to sound bitter or something, but I hate to see the pioneers of something, who were so truly incredibly talented, never get the credit. Then you see bands like Reel Big Fish do covers and sell hundreds of thousands, maybe a million, records. I don’t know, but to me, this is when I look more at this business and wonder why I even participate in it. It doesn’t seem fair."

Radio to Shrody is "audio segregation, where every different station tries to isolate their particular genre of music. The stations don’t cross up the shows. Segregation is still around ... it’s just not in a physical form. The stations make it sound like it’s your choice. But it’s not your choice. The rap station isn’t telling you about the newest guitar-edged music. They’re making sure you don’t know about it. They want that to be foreign to you. With Whitey Ford, I just said, ‘Screw it, either people will love it or hate it.’ Luckily, a lot of people are digging it! But half of that stuff is timing."

When it comes to musical taste, Schrody’s interests cover a myriad of titles. He’s especially impressed with the recent Outkogle release, and confirms that “they’re exactly who they are. Their stuff is like original p-funk, but it’s their own thing. I used to think Beck was outrageous, but his stuff is really out there, so it’s no longer that much of a risk. It’s now more about creativity. But when I write, I won’t listen to anything because it will come out in your music, and it won’t even be conscious. If I listen to some Steve Miller, it’s gonna show in my music.”

Regarding his own writing, “it usually comes to me through depression ... not because I believe it’s gotta be that way. But something always seems to happen before I’m about to write a record.” Schrody admits, “I was scared to death before the record came out!”

His own show is a lot more relaxed. It’s reflective of the soulful, slower beats prominent in his latest album. “I’m not running around on stage anymore, squirting beer. My body is just not prepared for that anymore."

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