Mon. March 11

   “Sober, but not healthy, that’s the way I always refer to myself,” said Robert Fisher, who was dressed in black, sipping hot tea, and nursing a bad throat at ZuZu in Central Square. This was the last time he and I sat down, six years back. “A long time ago, I outed myself on that," he continued. "I don’t have a problem with that whole anonymity thing, because the way I look at it is: I’m still a fuck-up, so if some kid who’s struggling with things knows that and sees somebody can do it, that’s okay. Nothing wrong with that.”
 
Fisher, now 55, is the creative force behind Willard Grant Conspiracy — he’s to them what Howe Gelb is/was to Giant Sand. And as we talked, one of the many versions of Willard Grant Conspiracy, a sextet, were preparing to play. They're doing so again Monday night March 11 at T.T. the Bear's opening for the Thalia Zedek Band, which makes for one terrific evening of music that, shall we say, may touch on the dark side. (A separate interview with Thalia coming soon!)
 
      Depending on budget and time commitments, the WGC line-up ranges from one — Fisher on voice and guitar — to 16 players. Fisher has 36 musicians he can call upon, on two continents. That’s not surprising given that he specializes in elegiac yet cathartic songwriting that’s gotten WGC likened to poetic mood merchants like Tindersticks and Leonard Cohen, as well as the dark musings of Nick Cave.
 
     Willard Gran Conspiracy roars like rolling thunder, sometimes with intense immediacy, other times with distant fury. Fisher is a master of the well-turned phrase, the poignant story song, but he prefers not to spend too much time interpreting his songs. “I feel like playing music is an act of communication, and by definition it’s a two-way street. When you play live, you get a certain amount back from people, and allowing a song to be inhabited by the listener is a way of making the communication work. So many bands create this wall: ‘Here’s us, we’re the rock people, you’re the audience, and everything goes out.’ I’ve always thought our music was more inclusive.”
 
     Perhaps. But Fisher roams some fairly dark recesses of his mind in song. There’s drama in much of what he writes, and it’s supported on the album he had out the, "Let It Roll with violas, guitars, and crashing drums. In “Crushed” he’s come “undone” and “lost the faith.” In “Breach” he sings, “And all that matters/Turns to grieve.” “Skeleton” paints this image: “The door is kicked/The lock is blown/Half of everything is gone/From half of everything I own.”

     JSInk checked in via email with Fisher recently. Catch us up, we said. He wrote: "Since then, there have been tours and records like "Pilgrim Road" (written and recorded with BAFTA award winner Malcolm Lindsay who also worked with David Byrne for the soundtrack of the film "Young Adam") and the record we'll play top to bottom on the 11th, "Paper Covers Stone" which was done in Vermont with Pete Weiss at the helm and David Michael Curry, Sean O'Brien, Steve Wynn and I playing the roles of the band! Dave and I also participated in an installation at the Groninger Modern Art Museum in the Netherlands where we improvised music to be listened to while viewing a collection of paintings from their permanent collection.

      "A little over a year ago, we started working with film onstage during shows, starting with a set of two nights in Belfast with the writer Ian Rankin. This work has expanded in the last year and we are about to release in June the new WGC record "Ghost Republic" (recorded by
David Michael Curry and Myself in Cambridge) with European touring scheduled to start in June as well. There is a film that will be available as a download with the record and Loose will also be doing a limited edition numbered vinyl version along with the CD and digital downloads thru all the usual suspects. There is a book related to the recording of the same name. It is a collaboration/hallucination between 20 writers and a photographer from here in the desert and beyond, who imagined themselves as characters in the ghost town of Bodie, a former mining town high in the Sierras. In between, we've struggled with everything being more than just tough out there, tried to find a place where our imaginations can breathe some clear air, enjoyed playing music, hated the business of music, loved the people and friends we have made in and out of the life, worked day jobs, walked away when we had to and re-engaged when we could do nothing. "Ghost Republic" will be our thirteenth record and I never thought that would have been possible. Having the continued support to move forward into uncharted territory is a blessing!"

    Fisher grew up in California; in 1980 he moved to Portland, Maine, where he played with Volume Control and Blue Section. In 1984 he moved to Boston, where he joined Laughing Academy; he played with them until 1995. That was followed by stints with Flower Tamers and Violet Crumbles. He started Willard Grant Conspiracy in 1996; nine years ago, just as the band were reaching headlining status in town, he moved back to the high desert of Lancaster, California, for what he says are “family reasons.”  He thinks the biggest misconception about Willard Grant Conspiracy is that “we’re a dark band. We’re not. If you’re depressed and listen to the blues, it doesn’t make you more depressed: it illuminates you, it lightens your load, it takes you places. Somewhere, I suspect in the ’80s, with the advent of all these pharmaceuticals to take care of every depressing moment, somewhere along the line, someone decided that people should never have a dark day. It’s a ludicrous concept. You value the bright days against the dark days. These ideas about melancholy music, or music that has substance to it, are bad and wrong because they marginalize it.”

     Still, Fisher, who says he’s been in and out of therapy, acknowledges that the source of much of his material is indeed a dark place. “I’m an addict. It’s a selfish disease and it’s based on self-loathing. You don’t look the way I look without having some issues. On the one hand, being as heavy as I am really hurts the image of the band; on the other, it’s not something I choose. But it’s part of my disease. If I could somehow fix myself, to the point where I could find it comfortable to be healthier, I certainly would do it. It’s not fun to live like this. You don’t wake up every day and go, ‘Gee, I’m glad I’m huge and overweight and not attractive to other people and have trouble finding a place to sit on an airplane where people don’t complain.’ It hurts my band, it hurts my music, it hurts all kinds of things.”
 
     The last time I saw Fisher smile was just once, that night six years at the Middle East. It was when he was deep into a swelling, surging, nine-minute “Let It Roll.” As bassist Pete Sutton put it after the set, “We brought the fuckin’ fury.”

Starts at 9. Tix: $10.

10 Brookline St., Cambridge, 617-492-0082 www.ttthebears.com