Q&A: Billy Joel at 60

How did having a hit in "Piano Man" change your life?

"Piano Man" didn't really propel us to any kind of new level. It wasn't until "The Stranger" album that we really noticed the huge shift in where we were in our career. "Piano Man" got us some attention, "Captain Jack" got us some attention, "The Entertainer" grew it a little bit, [as well as] "New York State of Mind" and "Say Goodbye to Hollywood." It was small, small increments and career shifts. But "The Stranger" was a jump into a whole other stratosphere.

When you listen to 1976's "Turnstiles" or "Streetlife Serenade," do you like what you hear or would you do things differently?

Of course I would do things differently because I am different now. I wouldn't have put out "Streetlife Serenade." I was pushed to put that one out, and I shouldn't have because it wasn't ready. There are fragments of things I think are good, but not a lot of good finished stuff, execution or follow-through. Also it was done with studio musicians, and I didn't want to work with studio musicians anymore. I wanted to work with my own road band, and there was always this battle. In fact, "Turnstiles" was the first album I did with my road band and I ended up producing, and I'm not a producer. I'm a good partnering producer when I work with somebody like Phil Ramone or Mick Jones; I have a lot of ideas. But I don't know technically always what I should be going for.

What's your take on the record business?

I've had a very good relationship with Columbia Records. There are always some key people. Clive Davis was the guy who originally signed me. Goddard Lieberson, who took over after Clive, was a very musical man. I had a lot of respect for him. When Walter Yetnikoff came in, that made a very big difference in my career as well. Walter was personally interested in my career and directed the company to help us with our budget for touring. We weren't necessarily having hit records all the time, and Walter thought I was going to be an important artist for the label and gave us a lot of tour support.

We knew all the local promotion guys, a lot of the radio guys. We had a lot of good relationships with local radio, depending on where we were playing. And we knew all the local record company people. Record companies were big, big organizations in those days. There were a lot of people working at record companies. A&R people, radio and record people, promotion guys, record company executives, art department people. We knew them all. They had a job just like we did, and everybody got along pretty well. We were making it up as we were going along in those days.

Did you generally have a positive experience with concert promoters?

It was sort of like we were all in the same boat. If business wasn't good for you, it wasn't good for the promoters. These were the days of independent promoters, and sometimes they took a bath. But if they stayed with you, you tried to develop a loyalty for them, because they took a chance on you, and if you came through, you went back to the same promoter again. It wasn't all about dollars and cents. A lot of it was about building careers.

Is loyalty a trait you admire?

Yes. I tend to be loyal to a fault. Sometimes I stay with people when it's gone beyond the point where I should have been loyal, like my ex-managers. And some musicians that I've worked with weren't really doing the job, but I stuck with them. I put a lot of value on loyalty, on spending time with people and putting effort into things.

It's been a while since you went into the studio. Are you writing or planning on recording?

Well, I never stopped writing music. I'm just writing a different kind of music now. I'm writing instrumental music and thematic music. To what end, I really don't know. It may end up being a movie score, some of it could be symphonic, it could end up being songs. I'm writing themes. I'm just not writing songs like I used to. I stopped writing songs back in the early '90s. I'm not really interested in songwriting these days, I'm interested in music writing. I'm much more comfortable with a more abstract form of writing. I like the idea of music speaking for itself.
I kind of rediscovered classical music. Back in the early '90s I was listening to the Beethoven symphonies and that had such incredible impact on me, recognizing that this music is just so evocative and so well-written and well-composed, so emotional and moving. I wanted to try and do that. Not that I could ever be Beethoven. But I was going to try and give it a shot.

When you were writing songs did you write the music first?

Always. I think the one time I didn't write the music first was "We Didn't Start the Fire" and I think it shows, because it's terrible musically. It's like a mosquito buzzing around your head.

What do you take the most pride in: singer, songwriter, performer, musician?

The hardest part of the job is to write. That's what it all comes down to as far as taking the most pride in, the composing of the music. And then the next thing would be as a piano player. I think being a good musician is very important. As a singer, I've never thought much of my own voice. I'm always trying to mess with my voice and sound different than I actually do because I don't like my voice. I think a lot of singers are like that. Everybody wants to sound like Ray Charles.
And as a performer I take a great amount of professional pride in delivering a good performance. I still can't believe I'm 60 years old this year and I'm still able to do this crazy-ass job. That's a real honor. I thought there was a mandatory retirement: When you're 40, get out.

You were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1999. Was that important to you?

Well, there's no softball. There's no picnics. No Fourth of July barbecue. I'm in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame—what do we get? No horseback riding, football, golf? Nope, you're just kind of in there. I'm happy about it for the people who work for me because I think it's very important to them. A lot of these people have been working with me for years and years and I'm happy for them.

Do you care what critics say about you?

You want to get a good review. When I got criticized for something that wasn't correct, a misperception, that kind of bugged me. If somebody doesn't like my music, that's fair enough—everybody's entitled to like or not like whatever they want. It was just when I was accused for doing things for monetary interests or to have a hit single, as if it was all this calculated machine. I never got that. I don't work like that. If you're going to not like what I do, don't like it for the right reasons. Don't dislike it because of a misperception you have. At least do your homework.

But I made more out of bad reviews than I probably should have. Most of the reviews actually were good. If there was one bad one, I'd go up onstage and go off on him—"Did you see what this guy wrote?" Of course, everybody started paying attention to that when I made a big deal about it. You don't make any friends like that. What's the old expression? "You don't get into a pissing war with people who order urine by the barrel." A lot of it was self-manufactured, but that's my neighborhood, that's where I come from. Somebody smacks, you smack them right back. We don't turn the other cheek in New York.

Dating back to the '70s you always ended shows saying, "Don't take any shit from anybody." What does that say about you?

I don't know, maybe I got a chip on my shoulder or something. That may be a Long Island thing, too, because people in the city always tend to look down on Long Island. We're the country bumpkins. So you sort of have a defensive attitude. And sometimes that's OK, it's a motivator. It kind of keeps you going, keeps you edgy. "Don't take any shit from anybody." I still believe that.

Do you remember what you did for your 30th birthday?

I was at home. I was married to my first wife, we had a big fight, and she threw all my friends out. I had a jukebox and I wanted to play every song on the jukebox that I got for my 30th birthday. She told everybody to leave and we had a big argument. I got into a real funk and I just sat down in my basement on my 30th birthday. That's what I did.

I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories for you.

Oh, that's OK. It's kind of funny in retrospect.

Is there anyone you'd like to acknowledge now?

Everybody I've ever worked with. The promoters, the record company people, the musicians, the roadies. Everybody. And the people that stayed with us. The people that kept coming to the shows, the people that bought all those records. They're all part of the family, too.

Do you see a time when you'll quit?

I don't think there will ever be a time when I stop being a musician. Possibly not being a performer, possibly not recording anymore, but I will always be a musician.