Catching Up With... Gary Higgins

Photo by Carol Higgins

If you believe in second chances, then Gary Higgins is your man.

In 1973, Higgins released an album of gorgeously haunting folk called Red Hash. The album could’ve made Higgins a staple in the folk scene; the music plays like a psychedelic Nick Drake. But, at least at the time, it wasn’t meant to be. Higgins was arrested on a marijuana-related charge and shipped off to jail, where he stayed for almost three years. Out of jail and penniless, promoting his then years-old record was far from a priority. Slowly but surely, Red Hash faded and was very nearly forgotten. That is, until Drag City Records, taking note of the growing pockets of popularity surrounding the album, re-released Red Hash in 2005.

At that time, Higgins was a recently-retired health industry worker, married with a grown child. Which is to say, far from the folk singer he very nearly became three decades earlier. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have another chance. Higgins took his show on the road and now, nearly five years later, is about to drop a new record. Titled Seconds, it’s the sophomore album of his 37-year-career. And here’s a teaser: he hasn’t lost his touch.

Paste: When Red Hash was reissued in 2005, we heard a lot from you, but it seems you’ve been pretty quiet since then. What’ve you been up to?
Higgins: Basically, I’ve been writing and recording. Just enjoying my life a whole bunch. Every day I wake up and, quite honestly, I’m thankful that I’m able to do what I am doing at this point in my life. I’m really enjoying it. I haven’t been playing as much as I’d like to, but I hope that’ll all change with the new album.

Paste: When you got out of prison after almost three years, the momentum behind Red Hash had been lost. What kept you from trying to build it up again?
Higgins: I thought about it, but there were so many things transpiring in my life at that time. Going to prison was a very rude awakening to a reality I could only slightly imagine. Adjusting to that life, then getting back into a new life (after prison) was pretty overwhelming. A lot of hurdles to overcome. I had to start my life all over again—find a place to live, get work. It was so all-encompassing that I didn’t have much time to think about the music. I still played a lot, but I really had to concentrate on things that would get me groceries, pay the rent.

Initially, I did anything I could. I washed dishes at a restaurant. I worked at a racetrack for a few years. Several factory jobs. I did some painting. And eventually I ended up working in healthcare. That’s where I stayed for the next 25 years. I am retired at the moment from all of that, just playing music. This whole thing with Red Hash being rediscovered—the timing worked out perfectly. I regret that I’m not younger to take advantage of that energy. I am almost 62. I don’t feel old at all, but I look in the mirror and get reminded every day.

Paste: Over the years Red Hash became kind of an underground, word-of-mouth record. In all those years, did people ever approach you as fans?
Higgins: No. I pretty much always stayed in this area where I grew up; everybody here I knew. They’d hear me play all the time. I was a little aware of the fact that the record itself had become a collectible item, but I never thought anything other than, “That’s neat. Apparently obscure issues are valuable.”

Paste: At what point did you realize that there was enough energy behind Red Hash to put it out again?
Higgins: From Drag City. A guy named Zach Cowie from Drag City sent me a letter. He sent one to every Gary Higgins in the United States. It apologized if I wasn’t the Gary who had written Red Hash, but if I was to give him a call. I sat on it for a few days thinking it was a prank. But I finally called him and he totally flipped out. He filled me in on the cult following, which I was totally oblivious to. I’d not even a slight glimmer of an idea that that was taking place. I was totally surprised. I found out right around that time that someone in Sweden had put out a CD copy of the record. I just had no idea. It was happening in little pockets all over the world. I was pretty astonished, and I still am. 

Paste: People hearing Red Hash for the first time will have a fresh emotional reaction to it. Is it hard for you to tap into the emotions that went into those songs decades ago?
Higgins: That very fact just re-energized the whole thing. In the beginning, I had to relearn the songs. I couldn’t remember how I played them. But because of the revived interest, it was almost like doing the songs fresh again.

Paste: So now, a few years later, we’ve got Seconds. This might be an obvious answer, but why’d you go with that title?
Higgins: Actually, it took a long time to come up with that. One day that just popped into my mind, and it worked on several levels. A couple of obvious ones: it’s the second album, there are seconds in time. So I said, "We’ll go with that."

Paste: Drag City put out the reissue, but how did you approach the idea of another record with them?
Higgins: There’d been communication back and forth since Red Hash came out, and I’d sent them a couple of tunes, saying we might be doing another thing afterwards. They were very interested in pre-Red Hash music, but I was very interested in post-Red Hash. I wanted to do something new.

Paste: I mean, most of your life is post-Red Hash.
Higgins: Exactly—three quarters of it. I wanted to show folks that I could still play and still sing. That I still had fresh ideas. Whatever Drag City wants to do with me after this is fine. They can use anything from pre-Red Hash to now and anything in between. 

Paste: I’m sure going to jail wasn’t part of your plan for life; you had a promising music career. But now that you’re finally back on that wagon, do you have the same goals and ambitions as you did in 1973?
Higgins: I think they are remarkably similar. Every musician wants at least a small group of people to like what he does. You have to like what you do, but also want to hear feedback from an audience. That urge was strong back then, and it’s still strong in me. 

Paste: It seems like you’re trying to make up for lost time, which is a noble thing to do. Do you ever look back and wish things went differently?
Higgins: Yes and no. Like I said, the only thing I really regret is just being older. I don’t have the energy to do all-nighters and sleep them off in a day or so. My body just won’t take that anymore. And I poisoned my body with all sorts of things. I enjoyed every bit of it, but I can’t do that anymore either. For me, every time we play it’s like I missed a day of my life. I’m an early to bed, early rising person. By the time we clear the equipment and make it home, it’s about the time that I am used to getting up. That’s the sad part of getting old. 

Paste: What do you think are the good parts?
Higgins: There are lots of good parts. Having some wisdom, not making mistakes anymore. And having made all the mistakes I could possibly make, it’s naturally time to adjust your life not to make anymore. The crazies go away and you start thinking about concrete things to improve your quality of life. At a certain point, you stop banging your head against the walls. 

Paste: The first line of “Demons” says that they (demons) don’t travel nice. How does that line speak to your experience?
Higgins: That whole song is about addictive personalities, and that’s definitely me. It was from Day 1. Those things constantly haunt someone. I have a problem with alcohol. I love it a lot, but it doesn’t like me all that much. That’s one of the things digging its claws in me, saying, "It’s all right. Have a couple bottles of Jack Daniels.” 

Paste: Did going to jail in ‘73 shelve those habits?
Higgins: No, it created them. I didn’t do much drinking before ‘73. I did a lot of smoking dope, but not much drinking. I had to stay away from parole officers, from unsavory characters. So I had to stay away from drugs. I certainly didn’t want to go back to jail. So I was pretty serious about that. Jail destroyed that part of my life; I couldn’t enjoy it any more. But drinking was perfectly legal, though a lot more dangerous.

Paste: That’s the everlasting argument—that booze is legal, but pot is illegal.
Higgins: It doesn’t make any sense. It’s got to change. It’s just so backwards. Certain people should stay away from those drugs as well, for sure, but if you’re going to base the law on danger of using one over the other, then hands down booze is more dangerous. You smoke a joint and you drive a car 10 miles an hour and think you’re going 70. You have a bottle of Jack Daniels and drive a car 110 and think you’re going 40. There’s one blatant difference.

Paste: How much has your life changed since your music career came back into focus?
Higgins: It changed a lot. Not in gathering wealth, but I got a stamp of approval, some validation. The response validated something in me that needed the acceptance. To make myself feel better about the music, I needed to hear it from somewhere else. My self-esteem improved. All along in my life, I knew music was importantly incredible to me, but after getting married and having a kid, making 50 bucks one week and maybe 300 the next — I couldn’t swing it. It’s nice that a bit of the validation has come back to the thought that music is a valuable thing.