Just Being Realistic, Soul Asylum Insists

NEW YORK--Sing as if you stuck your finger in a hot frying pan or write songs about drug deals and desperation and people might get the idea you’re a little unhappy.

But the members of Soul Asylum insist they’re not bitter or cynical, just realistic. Dragging people down is not what this band stands for--even if they do present life in three-minute bursts of agony.

Singer-guitarist Dave Pirner, for instance, is a veteran of flipping burgers and mowing lawns who cites the group’s very existence as proof that none of them are giving up.

“You know, you got to work hard for your good times,” said Pirner, speaking in a groan that recalls a 45-r.p.m. record being played at 33. “You got something to get off your chest, and you’re actually celebrating the fact you’re spitting it all out and putting the cards on the table.

“It’s like blues music; it’s pretty bleak stuff. People are trying to get stuff out in the open and share it with people who identify with things that aren’t always sex, driving and dancing.”

“These songs are in a story format,” guitarist Dan Murphy said. “You’re trying to put something down that people are going to listen to outside the context of a rock concert. I prefer something that’s thought-provoking or having some imagery.”

Murphy, drummer Grant Young and bassist Karl Mueller attended the same high school in Minneapolis, and they hooked up with Pirner a couple of years later. They were originally called Loud Fast Rules and were “a terrible band, the band that wouldn’t go away,” Murphy recalled.

In 1987, the group signed with a major label, A&M; Records.

Soul Asylum faces the same challenge as any rock ‘n’ roll band that’s been around a few years: Keep the spirit that drove your early records, but don’t try to make them sound the same.

So if Pirner’s flicking ashes into the cuffs of his rolled-up jeans suggests incurable adolescence, Murphy’s talk of “getting our business licks down” and raising a family indicates that the band is looking for ways to become more adult but not less contemporary.

“Being 28 is pretty staggering in a lot of ways,” said Murphy, who became a father late last year. “It’s not fun anymore and it’s time to get on with your life. You got to keep asking questions. If things were easy for us, we could start singing about sports cars.

“It’s my occupation, but it’s not my life. We’ve been at it long enough that we all have a pretty good sense of who we are. When the well runs dry, we’ll be fine.”