Within six months, Rothberg had a record deal -- with Greenberg signed on as producer -- and it was good-bye art, hello music. This minor miracle had come about as a result of Coincidence No. 2, when Alicia's law-student sister mentioned that a guy in her class was in the music biz. He turned out to be infamous EMI honcho Brian Koppelman, who agreed to a live audition, and after bonding with Rothberg over some vintage Black Sabbath, a deal was made and a star was born.
Her debut, fittingly titled Between the 1 and the 9, blends urban folk rock with classically crunchy guitar. While some may compare her to Alanis Morissette, Rothberg doesn't have to scream to get her message across. Like the original Angry Young Woman With Long Brown Hair, Rothberg takes on men who act like dogs and the women who love them, but that's where the similarities end. Her lyrics skillfully combine painful personal recollection with eloquent social commentary: One listen to the album makes it clear that this is an artist beholden to no one.
These days, Rothberg spends most of her time above ground, in towns where the subway is something you see on NYPD Blue. Lauren David Peden recently caught up with her in Denver, and despite her grueling tour schedule and bucolic surroundings, the 23-year-old Westchester, NY, native exuded the same manic energy as that "I've gotta cut down on the caffeine" chick from the VW ads.
So when did you start playing guitar?
When I was about 13. My sister was taking lessons, and I used to sneak downstairs and watch and try to do what she did. Then I went to guitar camp when I was 14, and I taught myself to play chords and bar changes by watching MTV. I'd watch someone play a solo, and then I'd just mimic what they did, really, really slowly.
You must have been pretty musically inclined to be able to do that.
Yeah, but I'd been studying classical piano. Well, I don't want to sound like, "I studied classical piano" -- I mean, Tori Amos studied classical piano -- it was more like my mom made me take piano lessons.
How did you go from studying at Parsons to busking in the subway?
Actually, I started busking in Paris first, when I spent my junior year abroad. Then when I went back to Parsons, I used to walk the tunnel between the F and the 9 train every day, and these two black guys always used to ask me to play with them, 'cause I carried my guitar. At first I said no, then one day I just decided to try it. I was listening to Joni Mitchell's "For Free" on my Walkman, and I saw these guys and I thought about what she was saying, how she was this big, famous musician who played for the money and curtain calls, and then she saw this street musician making beautiful music for nothing, and how she wanted to "put on a harmony," but she didn't. I wasn't famous or anything, but I thought maybe I should go over and put on a harmony with those guys, so that's what I did.
And that's where you met Alicia, your manager?
Yeah, except I wasn't playing with those guys that night. I wanted to see if I could make any money on my own, so one night I went down and played by myself. Alicia was walking through the tunnel -- she was a social worker for Covenant House -- and I think she originally came over 'cause she thought I was a homeless runaway or something [laughs]. I must've looked about 12. She was like, "Are you cold? Do you need somewhere to sleep?" And I was like, "No, I'm fine. I'm down here 'cause I want to be, and I'm having fun!"
Did you actually make any money at it?
Well, yeah, I did make money, but not what you would consider money. My mom still makes fun of me for the time I called her up all excited: "Mom, I made $11 in the subway tonight!" And she was like, "What were you doing down there?" [laughs]
Did you really play a Black Sabbath song at your audition for Brian, or did you just talk about them?
Oh, no, I played it. In fact, whenever he comes to rehearsal or soundcheck, I always play a few bars of "Neon Nights."
People have been comparing you to Alanis Morissette.
It's ridiculous. I mean, I don't want to say anything bad about Alanis, but I really do get sick of everyone comparing us. Our styles are very different. We both just happen to have long brown hair and play guitar. But I understand why journalists do it. It's more for the reader than anything else, you know, like the Blockbuster rating: "If you like this, you'll like this" [laughs]. They have to use something as a point of reference. But it's like, enough already! It's getting old. What upsets me is that by putting us in the same category, people can then dismiss us. They think they've got us all figured out, and it's on to the next new thing. It takes away from what I'm doing and what I'm saying.
In your press material you wrote, "I see this album as a Morse code designed to find other people like me." Have you found them, and is it gratifying?
I have and it really, really is. But it's weird, too. Recently at a show, there were these two young girls who had their hair dyed exactly like mine. I mean, other people have this hairstyle, but they were there to see me and it was pretty obvious they were copying my look. I was like, "You did that to yourself on purpose? This was an accident!"
Speaking of touring, I hear you're looking for a few good groupies.
I am, definitely. But it's so hard. I meet all these guys, but they don't care that I'm the singer, they just want to be with any girl in the band. It's like, "Oh, here's a girl that's not too ugly. Cool." It's ironic that my laminated passes are getting all these guys laid, but it's not necessarily me they're interested in [laughs].
So you're missing out on the whole starf----r experience?
Yes, unfortunately I am. But I was dancing with these two cute guys last night, and I was just... wasn't interested. They were cute, but there was nothing going on [upstairs]...
What? Patti, you're a really bad rock star. I mean, that would be any guy's dream: "She's cute and there's nothing going on upstairs. Let's get in the limo." You're really disappointing me.
I know, I know. I need to call Gene Simmons for advice on how to be a better rock star.