Hips and Makers was a secret. Not a dark or ugly secret, but a skeleton I dressed perfunctorily and left in the closet so it could stay quiet, which it seemed to prefer. Acoustic songs were not Throwing Muses’ bread or butter, so I let them pile up, bone by bone, until I had what could have been a working body, if it hadn’t lacked muscles and viscera.
I used [producer] Lenny Kaye as a gentle ear, to sit in the control room so I didn’t have to break any performance spell. He knew all the Muses’ records and where I stood on product versus substance, so I trusted him. He opened the beers, cracked me up when I needed that, and let me take him to the beach between takes.
So, I added muscles and viscera, in other words, and no lipstick. Just made a body that still preferred to be quiet, even though now it had to walk all over the world and make friends. Which it seems to do quite well, as quiet as it is.
When they sent me the cover art — Shinro’s beautiful painting — they had written my name on it. I called, laughing, saying, “No, no, no... don’t do that. Just write Hips and Makers.” I could hear the eye roll. The art director said, very patiently “Whose name did you want us to write on it?” I froze in fear: Oh shit, nowhere to hide.
It's called Hips and Makers because it’s a, ‘sort of why we’re here,’ phrase. Keep it simple, in other words. We have bodies and love; give with these in every sphere.