Older, Wiser and Newly Content

What did it take to get Concrete Blonde back together after eight years? A Roxy Music reunion, a Beverly Hills psychiatrist, and some basic growing up for singer-bassist Johnette Napolitano, guitarist James Mankey and drummer Harry Rushakoff.

All those things played a role in the creation of “Group Therapy,” the L.A. band’s first new album since 1993’s “Mexican Moon.” It’s due in stores Tuesday from local independent Manifesto Records (see review, Page 70). The band, which performed together for the first time in years in September during a Spaceland benefit for New York disaster relief, will also start a U.S. tour Friday, coming to the El Rey Theatre in L.A. on Jan. 25 and the Galaxy Theatre in Santa Ana on Feb. 1.

The iconic British art-rockers Roxy Music, who brought a rare reunion tour to the Greek Theatre last summer, inspired the album’s opening valentine, “Roxy.” “Their music was always one of the things that touched me,” Napolitano says, and she was happy to know the band was back, older but still vital.

As for the psychiatrist, well, the album’s title is almost painfully literal, because making it actually was therapeutic. Particularly for Napolitano, who last spring found herself in a bleak state of mind.

“I was really cracking up, and I didn’t know what was happening,” she recalls. She had been having nightmares, and she became convinced that something bad was going to happen. Indeed, when she went to see Mankey in May, it was not as a former bandmate looking to get Concrete Blonde back together. All she wanted was a trusted friend to help her deal with this recurring sense of doom. Sensibly, he helped her get in touch with a psychiatrist.

“She was feeling bad, and part of her feeling better was getting together with the old gang,” says Mankey, who has known Napolitano since 1981 when they formed the duo Dream 6, which eventually became Concrete Blonde.

In the late ‘80s, Concrete Blonde gained a college-radio following with a blend of classic rock and gothic moodiness that was more straightforward than Siouxsie & the Banshees but more extravagant than the Pretenders.

By turns wistful and tough, Napolitano’s lyrics and husky voice reflected her self-doubts, social conscience and blunt emotionality. Mankey’s noir, blues-edged guitar work gave the band an atmospheric touchstone, even as its albums became diverse to the point of distraction, incorporating whatever elements--hip-hop, Spanish folk, country--the creatively restless Napolitano fancied.

Concrete Blonde gained wider exposure with 1990’s “Bloodletting,” which included the Top 20 hit “Joey.” But by “Mexican Moon,” the excitement of possibly making it big had given way to in-fighting and the ennui of endless touring. The band broke up in 1994.

Napolitano continued in various groups, including Pretty & Twisted and Vowel Movement. In 1997, she and Mankey even combined forces with another L.A. group for the rock-meets-Latin collection “Concrete Blonde y Los Illegals.”

But, the players all say, they never quite clicked as well with anyone else. And that’s really why the reunion happened. “We tracked down Harry’s number and cold-called him,” the 46-year-old Mankey says, laughing. “He was kind of shocked to hear from us. The last time we talked, we weren’t on very friendly terms.”

Napolitano and Mankey don’t dwell much on past tensions in the band. When asked, Mankey allows that part of Napolitano’s reputation for being difficult with label executives and managers probably stemmed from her not being as compliant as women were expected to be. “But,” he says with a deadpan twinkle in his voice, “she was also difficult.”

Rushakoff, 42, is even less diplomatic--about himself. “I put Johnette through a lot,” says the drummer, who was replaced on some early recordings by former Roxy Music drummer Paul Thompson. “I’m pretty lucky she even gave me another whirl.” Yet Rushakoff, who was in rehab when his bandmates first contacted him for the reunion, says he didn’t have a drug or alcohol addiction in those days. It was more of an attitude problem.

“It was just stupid things,” Rushakoff says. “Like having huge guest lists, and wanting all [my] friends around to see what a big shot I was. And I did a lot of flashy drumming, with cymbals behind me and stick-spinning and stuff like that. Johnette was like, ‘Look, this isn’t Judas Priest!’” Once, he would have bristled at such a comment, but now Rushakoff says he welcomes Napolitano’s direction. “It’s not about how groovy I look, but more about what’s appropriate for the song,” he says. Mankey concurs. “We’ve all learned to play less,” he says.

With this newfound spirit of cooperation, “Group Therapy” came together quickly and was recorded during 10 days in August. The songs are recognizably Concrete Blonde, but some lyrics reflect a fresh sense of contentment. “Yes, I am content,” Napolitano says. “Not to be confused with complacent. But I’ll be 45 this year, and I’m grateful. It’s really taken a lot to see that the glass is half-full and not half-empty.”

It’s enough for her that the band is back together. “We didn’t know if anybody else would care, or how relevant it would all be,” she says. But one “Group Therapy” track felt eerily prescient in the wake of Sept. 11: the dark prophecy “Violent,” which distills many of Napolitano’s bad vibes from last spring into a warning about the karmic time bomb of a culture she sees as increasingly harder-hearted.

It’s particularly bad in Los Angeles, says Napolitano, who has always enjoyed pulling back her hometown’s sparkly facade to reveal its dark underbelly. “It’s almost an art form to lie, to cheat, to be ambitious, to stab somebody’s back along the way,” she says. “When you’re living in a world where that actually becomes desirable, you start to feel like you’re nuts for not having [those qualities].”

After Sept. 11, Napolitano wondered if it was wise to throw such “Violent” lines as “a flood of blood and a burning pain” at unsuspecting audiences. Again, Mankey and Rushakoff offered soothing support, encouraging her to perform the tune at Spaceland.

“She does have a way of picking things out of the air,” remarks Mankey, making a “Twilight Zone” sound to acknowledge the song’s strange timeliness. “But it can’t be like, ‘Don’t mention the war!’”

Besides, Napolitano isn’t fixating on the role of doomsayer. In fact, she’d prefer to be seen as an older artist who still has something to contribute to a youth-oriented culture.

“What does ‘alternative’ mean, anyway? It’s OK as long as you’re 20?” she asks. To her, it’s obvious now that people in their 40s have amassed the knowledge, experience and drive to master their work. “Now is the time to be everything you said you were gonna be when you were a kid,” she says. “And this is absolutely what I wanted to grow up to be. I’m proud I lived my life the way I wanted.”

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Natalie Nichols is a regular contributor to Calendar.