The D. Gates

Kirk Baird

Friday, Jan. 25, 2002 | 4:40 a.m.

WEEKEND EDITION

To most anyone regularly asked for ID at R-rated movies, the band Bread probably won't trigger much name recognition. And Bread's founder, David Gates, at best might jostle a familial misidentification to a certain software billionaire in Seattle.

But sing the opening to "If" -- "If a picture paints a thousand words, then why can't I paint you?" -- to those unfamiliar with either the band or singer-guitarist Gates, and eyes tend to widen.

Formed in 1969 by Gates, Bread helped define the "soft-rock" sound of the '70s, with a steady stream of hits: "Lost Without Your Love," "Guitar Man," "Baby I'm-a Want You" and "Everything I Own."

The band broke up in 1977, but reformed briefly in the mid-'90s for a yearlong series of concerts worldwide.

After the tour Gates returned to his solo career and managing a cattle ranch in Northern California, which the 61-year-old sold last year because of the physical demands involved with it, and to concentrate more on his music career. Gates performs Wednesday through Saturday at The Orleans.

The Sun recently talked to Gates from his home in San Diego County about his band's brief reunion, the status of soft rock and whether he's ever performed a Bread song at a karaoke bar:

Las Vegas Sun: Why did Bread get back together?

David Gates: It was a 25th anniversary thing and there were a lot of countries we'd never played. But we basically did a big tour outside the U.S. in '96 and part of it into '97. These people had never seen us before, but had heard the records for 25 years. So there was a lot of pent-up interest and we had great crowds wherever we went.

Sun: So there was no lingering acrimony in the band?

DG: We ran our course, musically, which most people don't understand. As a unit, we'd gone as far as we could and it was time to go and make other alliances for other musical directions. That's what caused the breakup. But to be able to come back together, since it was such a finite thing, without any long-term obligations, everybody just got back together and enjoyed it for what it was.

Sun: Was there ever discussion to make the reunion permanent?

DG: There's no motivation to do that. As much as groups from the '70s think there's a huge audience out there waiting for them to get back together, it just doesn't happen. There's interest in the old records. I can name a bunch of people I'm sure who've gotten back together. A few have been successful -- Fleetwood Mac did a good job, the Eagles did a great job -- but to get back together and go out and really be successful, you've got to have the good songs again, you've got to crank up all that enthusiasm. Sometimes it's best just to leave well enough alone and retire undefeated.

Sun: When forming Bread, what inspired you to go with a more mellow, acoustic sound even as rock was becoming harder?

DG: At the end of the '60s, the music was horrible. The style was called acid rock. I mean, if I heard another electric 12-string record, I was going to break it. Everybody had had it. It was gnawing, gnashing metallic junk. That's one of the reasons I put the band together, I thought, "Somebody must like acoustic guitars and melodies and harmonies." And that's when 1970 hit, and "Band of Gold," that record (by Freda Payne), and the Eagles and all of that stuff -- Crosby, Stills and Nash was only a year ahead -- and everything switched over to that nicer stuff, with a lot of acoustic guitars. And boy, it couldn't have happened too soon for me.

Sun: Why did -- and still do -- people connect with the band's music?

DG: I think two things. First of all, the songs were probably were pretty good to start with. You can listen to them over and over again without getting worn out on them. They have survived the test of time because they are not dated.

The other thing is, there's nothing being written of that sort today to displace it. If another Bread and David Gates came around doing the same stuff, it would knock us off the radio. That hasn't happened. There's lots of nice stuff, but nothing quite like that.

Sun: So what happened to soft rock?

DG: There was a temporary period where we had "unplugged." And that was the closest you've seen to it, but that was really electric people playing acoustic.

If you want (soft rock), you're going to have to buy your Linda Ronstadt, or your James Taylor, or your Eagles, or your Bread or whatever to get that kind of music. And maybe today's artists think, "I don't want to retrace that territory because it's uncool," so they leave it alone. I went and did a half-hour music show in Nashville a few years ago, mostly it was Vanderbilt (University) students that came in. They all came up to me afterward with their Bread albums -- they were 18 and 19. They had never heard or found this stuff until recently; they didn't know it existed. Unless you listen to a station that plays easy-listening or hits of the '70s, '80s and '90s, you wouldn't hear it. And it gives them an alternative to Lenny Kravitz, Radiohead or whatever.

Sun: Or maybe they heard it or sang it at a karaoke bar. Have you ever performed a Bread song in a karaoke bar?

DG: I've thought about it. I thought it would be a complete trip to do that. I've had guys in my band and roadies go to karaoke and get up and sing ... but I've never done it. I thought, wouldn't it be fun: (Imitates audience member) "God, he sounds just like the guy in Bread."