A quick word ...: Dewey Bunnell

... with America. Not the big famous country but Dewey Bunnell, one-half of the frontline of the laidback folk-rock band whose heyday was the 70s and early 80s with hits such as Horse With No Name, Ventura Highway and You Can Do Magic. Thirty-two years after forming in England, while their parents were stationed in US military bases, Bunnell and co-founder Gerry Beckley are still out on the road and coming to Auckland this week.

Must be an interesting time to be in a band called America right now.

Well it's had its controversies over the years anyway. It's a generic word that incites people at times. Right now it's as intense as we've known it. It's been a double-edged sword in a way. We've got some interesting shows that have been put on since the attacks. It was sort of presumptuous to have the name America to begin with, we don't think of it much any more and we haven't had as many problems with it as some people might think.

We did get a lot of flag waving at the shows in the past few months. We do about 100 or 120 dates a year. We were in Central America on September 11 and it was kind of volatile down there. We just sort of limped along for three shows and had to pack it in and head home. There had been some bomb threats. We were going to play Buenos Aires and the promoter called us and said, "We advise you not to make this show". Likewise in Peru. But we did Guatemala, Honduras and Panama.

In fact, we were also just out in the Indian Ocean - we were asked to play for the troops on Diego Garcia. We went and played two shows for about 5000 troops on the island. It's a little bit of a double-edged sword for Gerry and me because we are kind of old hippie pacifists and here we are playing for these B-1 bomber pilots.

But you both grew up on an air base.

That's right. Gerry's dad was a base commander and my dad was a sergeant. We were raised in the military but it's funny, I never felt militarised. The bases we were on were more administrative bases; there weren't a lot of jets and weapons and stuff.

What are people coming to your shows for these days?

There's a nostalgia element. Most of our show is our hits from the 70s and early 80s. There's not a whole lot of interest in new material. A lot of the people don't know the band other than the songs they have heard on the radio and the diehards who have followed all of the albums - the obscure ones as well as the successful ones - are aware that we are barely going to play any of that stuff.

We also play a lot of private gigs now for corporate heads who are our age and have their annual conventions or incentive dinners or whatever.

That's happened to a lot of our peers like the Beach Boys. We are kind of next in line for that sort of thing as well.

When that heyday was over, were you bitter or did you just think you'd had a pretty good run?

I think we've always thought we had our run. In the past 10 years we put out two albums of new material which Gerry and I were convinced that, "Hey this will shake it back up and we'll be back on track".

But the window is gone. The music may be up to par but it's another world. We don't hold our breath any more.

We do kind of relive the heyday every night on stage when we play those songs and you see people's eyes brighten up and that's great. We couldn't ask for more than that. I think we're doing a legitimate job.

So did the horse ever get a name?

Of course not, that would spoil the whole thing. The enigma of the nameless horse will remain forever.

And as for "the heat, it was hot" - how hot exactly was it?

I must say I took on a poetic licence in a lot of my lyrics. I certainly don't use the bad English - like "ain't no one for to give you no pain" - it's almost like hillbilly speak that I adopted. I don't know the reason for that. You've only got three minutes to tell the story and I figured I would colour it up a bit with some odd language.Russell Baillie

* America, supported by Wayne Mason, Civic on Monday, Feb 18 and Tuesday, Feb 19.