Interview With Peter Griesar

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Griesar didn't play any music for a few years. Instead, he went back to his job at Miller's, where he started back at the bottom, washing dishes and preparing salads. It was a humbling experience.

It wasn't until 1995 that Peter was convinced to come out of retirement. Charles Newman, DMB's early manager, was managing fledgling C'ville artist Lauren Hoffman. She needed help, and Peter spent about six months working with her in the studio, advising her, and playing keyboard for her.

In 1996, he eased back into music a bit by joining a local band, The Ninth. "The Ninth was never really much of a band. It was just a fun project for Charlottesville." He describes it as, in essence, "a massive lack of musical communication." DMB bassist Stefan Lessard was a member, briefly. But the group never amounted to much, and Griesar didn't really look at it as a serious musical endeavor.

Griesar began producing music again in December of 1997. After buying a CD-R, he created a solo five-song EP as a Christmas gift for friends. From start to finish, the project took him just five hours. He pressed 180 copies, photocopied and hand-colored the cover, and passed them out over the next few weeks. The disc, entitled "Ho Ho Hum," was received very well, and having a copy became a minor status symbol among Charlottesvillians.

Just two months later he had assembled a band, Supertanker, and had recorded an eight-song solo disc entitled "Disposable Love Songs." A well-attended release party was held at the Live Arts Theatre, and the low-fidelity album sold briskly in local record stores. Supertanker quickly became a popular act. Though there was somewhat of a rotating cast of members, Griesar and his songs remained the focal point.

Over the next two years, Griesar played many solo acts in Charlottesville and New York, and the band played regularly around town in most every venue that would take them. A prolific writer, as always, he soon had two dozen songs under his belt. Songs like "Go Away," "Naughty" and "Superhero" showed off his talents as a writer, which concert-goers eagerly received.

In the spring of this year, Griesar and his band parted ways and he released his first disc in two years, a four-song EP entitled "From The Supertanker Dude With The Zero Obsession<." Compared to "Disposable," the slick production (Griesar prefers the term "medium-fi") sounds extremely professional, like something that a record label would spend hundreds of thousands of dollars creating. Griesar made it at home.

In August he assembled a new Supertanker, which is now performing regularly in Virginia and North Carolina. The roster includes old-school Charlottesville musicians Houston Ross and Johnny Gilmore, as well as Matthew Wilner, who has led several bands of his own in town. Griesar is somewhat in awe of his bandmates, feeling somewhat humbled that these men have seen fit to play in his band.

"I've got a really dope band. I've got a lot of material. A lot of really good songs that I love to sing and I love to play, and they love to play them. And we're kind of new and kind of fresh, but every one is a talented, focused musician. Now I'm just sort of spending my time to figure out a way to get this band on the road, playing in places where people can see it, because that's what I have to offer the band right now. Know what I mean? And that is my number one and sort of only goal right now. There's four great people playing music. One of them has 41 years of [professional] experience. Another one has about 20. I've got about 15. And Matt has about 8. This is a really serious musical adventure for us."

Griesar is fortunate to have scraped together enough money from his work with DMB, in addition to working odd jobs here and there, that he's able to devote a great deal of time to Supertanker. (Although not necessarily doing work that he enjoys. "No matter how much time I have," he points out, "I still have to spend it doing the business of Supertanker which leaves less time to devote to the music of Supertanker.") He bristles when asked about the royalties that he's received from his credit on Crash's "So Much To Say."

"I really don't want to talk about royalties. Because, to be honest, people in this business don't understand money. I really don't want to talk about money. Money and fame has never been my goal in what I do. That doesn't mean that I don't want to be able to afford food, or a roof over my head."

The funny thing is that Griesar's not just blowing hot air; he really doesn't care. Perhaps he's jaded, perhaps he's sick of the rock scene, or perhaps he's just happy making his music. His fans are far more concerned with his success than he'll ever be. Perhaps this is how music is meant to be, as it was fifty, maybe a hundred years ago. Griesar may be closer to roots rock than anybody else out there. He's making music for the sake of music, performing because it makes people happy. Unfortunately for him, what would make most of his fans happiest would be seeing him played on radio stations nationwide, selling out shows and touring nationwide, basking in the spotlight that DMB enjoyed while he was washing dishes at Miller's.

In many ways, Griesar is still the lonely kid in his dorm room, glad to be alone with his music. He may always be that kid. Whether or not he gets rich and famous has nothing to do with success as he knows it. In his own way, he's achieved a musical nirvana, a level of success that Dave Matthews Band will never achieve, a level that few musicians ever achieve.

Peter Griesar is happy.