Album: Destination Time Tomorrow (Level-Plane Records)
Random thoughts: This interview was odd, especially when Justin Smith started talking about Mark Wahlberg. Still, a great band, and not your run-of-the-mill hardcore band story.
A DIFFERENT KIND OF GRINDHOUSE GRAF ORLOCK BRING CINEMA-GRIND TO AN ALL-AGES VENUE NEAR YOU
By Jason Schreurs
Graf Orlock, one of the rare breed of hardcore/metal bands playing “cinema-grind,” originally decided to write songs about ‘80s/’90s action movies because they were “just tired of people writing terrible lyrics,” according to guitarist and vocalist Justin Smith. “The action movie thing is just an excuse to exploit the pop culture of our childhoods,” explains Smith, “or, actually, it became interesting to take out different parts of them and focus on them, through either samples or lyrics, and highlight some of the ridiculous popular preoccupations in the US in the 1980s.”
Smith (known in Graf Orlock as “Jason Schmidt”) also handles the hilarious pre, mid, and post-song samples from movies such as The Terminator and Total Recall on the band’s latest release, Destination Time Tomorrow, eight songs of spastic, screaming grind/hardcore in well under 20 minutes. Smith doesn’t hesitate on his favorite movie ever (the Die Hard Trilogy, featuring “one of the best action characters ever created”), and also doesn’t mince words about which bloated Hollywood actor he’d like to see accidentally saunter into one of their local Studio City, CA shows. “Recently, Mark Wahlberg, or Marky Mark,” says Smith. “The reasons: Three Kings, Four Brothers, and, mostly, Shooter.”
It would be a lesson in bludgeoning Marky wouldn’t soon forget; these guys are known for an out of control live set that rivals any show of the golden era of late-‘90s SoCal spazz-core (think Jenny Piccolo and The Locust or, if that’s French, think unhinged mania set to ear-piercing chaos in 20 minutes or less). “It’s kind of a pain in the ass, but always brutal in some aspect,” says Smith of their live show. “Super fun though, for us, and we always try to play on the floor so that we can be as close to people as possible, and things can happen…”
And we can’t talk about Graf Orlock without mentioning the packaging on their latest release. Quite possibly the sickest thing ever, rivaling any grindcore or death metal release, the CD comes wrapped in Alien-like face-hugger tentacles and is hiding a particularly nasty piece of female genitalia underneath. Geez, wonder if they’ll have troubles getting that one across the border when they come to town on Sunday? “I don’t know,” says Smith, “do your border cops care about that stuff?”
Well, let’s hope Canadian customs is too confused by the concept of “cinema-grind” to inspect the band’s merchandise too closely.
Random thoughts: If memory serves, this was an e-mail interview, but you sure couldn't tell. Not like you need to be told, but Coliseum are a powerhouse band. If you haven't already, check out their new one, No Salvation, on Relapse Records. Also below the Chord article are the Q&A leftovers that got posted on the Flex Your Head website.
COLISEUM By Jason Schreurs
Here’s the dilemma: Most crusty hardcore bands seriously lack in the melody department. When was the last time anyone found themselves humming a Discharge tune in the shower? (Then again, when was the last time any Discharge listeners took a shower?) So it was a real treat to hear Coliseum, the new band from Ryan Patterson (Black Cross, Initial Records), reviving the crust hardcore sound and adding some emo-serated edges on their self-titled debut for Level-Plane Records. Here’s some angry shit you’ll never hear in a shampoo commercial, but should. “I wanted to do some D-beat type elements, have dirty rock elements, classic punk, catchy choruses that weren't cheesy...,” begins Patterson. “Just write songs that built upon my influences. Some of my absolute favorite bands are The Replacements, Seaweed, Gray Matter, so melody is always a part of what I do, even if it's unintentional. Actually, for me, writing heavy music is more challenging than writing melodic music.” Patterson, who can perpetually be found slogging away 12-hour days at Initial and carrying a lot of the weight of the Louisville hardcore scene on his shoulders, was waiting for the right moment to inject his everyday angst into another band. When his main gig, riffing and back-vocalizing in Black Cross, found some downtime, the impetus to start Coliseum became quite clear to him. “I was slipping into Travis Bickle mode and realized I needed an outlet,” explains Patterson. “I wanted to play in a fucking pissed-off punk band.” And I’m to assume the chance to release those pent-up emotions and anxieties about a world gone totally mad has been somewhat therapeutic? “Sometimes getting onstage and opening up gets really hard, sometimes I freak out and freak the audience out, and sometimes everything clicks and it's beautiful... It's been a really intense ride so far, and I know there's even more on the way.” *******************************************************************
Anyone familiar with the Louisville, KY hardcore scene instantly recognizes the name Ryan Patterson from his work with Initial Records, Black Cross, The National Acrobat, and many other excellent bands. So make sure his new band, Coliseum, doesn’t slip under your radar due to a slightly generic sounding name. A damn impressive combo of crusty hardcore and melodic punk, this band is the perfect melt of Discharge-style noise with Patterson’s love of melody shining through. And those amazing, rusty pipes should make him top candidate to carry the torch of the quickly withering Lemmy in the raunchy vocals department. Patterson needed another outlet and found it with this amazing band. But damn, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll let him explain…
Jason Schreurs interviewed vocalist/guitarist Ryan Patterson in late September, 2004.
I know you play in another band (Black Cross) and keep busy with Initial Records. What was the motivation and impetus to form another band, Coliseum? Emotional turmoil? Social disgust? Too much time at home alone? I sang for the very first bands I did back in high school and I guess in the back of my mind was that desire to get up and have the chance to rant and rave again. Black Cross was becoming less and less active due to [his brother] Evan [Patterson] being busy with Breather Resist and Rob being busy with family and career life... I was really busy with work at Initial, freelance design stuff, and setting up shows in Louisville... But I was feeling like my dreams were slipping away from me as I worked harder and harder to facilitate the dreams and enjoyment of others via doing a ton of local shows and working 12-hour days at Initial. Around this time I was also feeling more emotional upheaval than I had in a long time, I was lonely and angry and getting really sick with the world around me... I wrote my cousin Matt to see if he knew any drummers, he said he'd like to try it out (he'd never played drums in a band before). So he went and bought a kit, I called Tony and Keith, we convened in the garage and I got aggro. I really felt like I had to either start this band or slam my head into a brick wall...
Who are the other guys you are playing with and how does playing with them differ from your other bands? Well, Matt Jaha is the drummer, he's my cousin. I remember when he was born, I used to babysit him and his siblings (I'm six years older). In many ways we grew up together and shared many family experiences together. I introduced him to a lot of music, he saw our bands play before he'd ever started his own. So being in the band with him has been really great, to get to know him as a person and not just an extended family member has been wonderful. This is the first band he's played drums for and he fucking rages. He's also recently taken over drums for Black Cross. Tony Ash plays guitar. Tony has been in many cool Louisville bands that never quite took off. I knew he was into DC bands and Marshall amps, so I'd had my eye on him for years. He also was a big fan of The National Acrobat, so I knew he was down with the program. Tony's the man of a zillion riffs. Keith Bryant plays bass. Keith has been one of my absolute best friends since we were 13 years old. We played in our first bands together and we've grown up together. He's one of the most important people in my life, so it made sense to get him along on this adventure.
You have nailed the perfect mix of crust hardcore and emo-serated edges. Was it difficult to combine the heavy with the melodic, and how did you find the experience of writing this album? Writing a first record is always infinitely easier than writing subsequent releases... There are no expectations, just new ideas, just you in your room playing guitar or in the garage hashing it out with some other people. There wasn't a specific game plan... I wanted to do some D-beat type elements, have dirty rock elements, classic punk, catchy choruses that weren't cheesy... Just write songs that built upon my influences. Some of my absolute favorite bands are The Replacements, Seaweed, Gray Matter, so melody is always a part of what I do, even if it's unintentional. Actually, for me, writing heavy music is more challenging than writing melodic music. I want to have vocals and music that stick in your head, but not in a bullshit pop way -- in the way that Ramones or Stooges or even Black Flag songs will become instantly memorable. Those bands didn't force it, but their songs grabbed you by the throat. But, this is actually all more of an afterthought. In the beginning I wrote a few songs, taught them to the guys, we all wrote a bunch more songs together, I wrote some words and sang 'em. We set up and recorded at my house and the record was done. Simple.
What's it like living in Louisville and how does the scene there influence your music? Louisville is very, very mellow. People are nice, life is simple, it's cool. When I'm home I often don't even need to leave more than a 10-mile radius, just about everything I need is contained in one area -- guitar shops, health food stores, record stores, mechanic, my office, theatres, etc. There's an amazing sense of community here that extends beyond just the people in the music scene, but on into local businesses and even local government (except some of Louisville's police force which is completely fucked). I think for the most part I've drawn my greatest musical inspiration from outside of Louisville, but it's the people in the scene that really inspire me. There are really wonderful people involved here from the young punks on up to the eldest rockers. I mean, how cool is it that I put out a record for Peter from Squirrel Bait, I'm in a band with Rob from Endpoint, I rent videos at Todd from Slint's store, Jason from Sebadoh recorded our album, we record sometimes at Chris from Lords' studio, Evan from Black Cross/Breather Resist prints our shirts, etc, etc. That's fucking cool -- that's community! Louisville rules.
So, you finally got a band where you sing, play guitar, and write the songs. Must be a blast, eh? Fuck yeah. The other guys are absolutely a huge part of the band, but I knew that if the band sucked it would fall completely on my shoulders. But, with the amazing positive reaction and support we've gotten so far, it makes me feel wonderful. Sometimes getting onstage and opening up gets really hard, sometimes I freak out and freak the audience out, and sometimes everything clicks and it's beautiful... It certainly is a fucking blast.
Album: The Alchemy Index (Vagrant Records) Random thoughts: This long piece was originally intended to be a cover story for Chord Magazine, but Chord went on hiatus right when that issue was supposed to come out. There I was left with a cover story and no magazine. I was working for Wonka Vision at the time as Managing Editor and Justin, the publisher, agreed to print this as their cover story. Needless to say, J-Dog saved the day. This story was a theme piece on Thrice's charity work and was definitely a labor of love.
THRICE CHARITY AND ALCHEMY
By Jason Schreurs
It didn’t take long for the members of Thrice to see the impact their charity work was having on the communities and world around them. When the Orange County melodic hardcore band sold 100,000 copies of their second album, The Illusion of Safety, their label at the time, Sub-City, wanted to do something special. So they planned a Thrice show at A Place Called Home, the boys and girls club in South Central LA that the band had chosen to donate partial proceeds of that album’s sales to. Louis Posen, owner of Sub-City, made “fool’s gold” records to give to the band as a lark, but the presentation that really mattered that night was to the kids at A Place Called Home. A music scholarship was created in Thrice’s name and given to some of the kids in the center’s music program. “It was one of the times when I knew for sure we were doing the right thing,” remembers bass player Ed Breckenridge, as he collects his thoughts. “I mean, I know it is the right thing anyway, but I could actually see it in action… and it was awesome.” Five years, three albums, and two record labels later, the band—Breckenridge, his older brother Riley on drums, vocalist/guitarist Dustin Kensrue, and guitarist Teppei Teranishi—continue to donate to a carefully chosen charity with each of their releases. But all four members fondly remember that night at A Place Called Home where they felt that, in some small way, they had made a difference. “It was really cool to see these kids that, who knows what they would have been doing if they didn’t have a place to go and get involved in music,” remembers Riley. “The kids were so excited about playing music and being in a band, and that took me back to when we started our band.” As a young punk/hardcore group, it was Sub-City’s Posen that opened Thrice’s eyes to using the band as an instrument for social change. When Posen told them they could either sign to Hopeless Records, his main label, or the Sub-City imprint, which donates a small portion of each CD sold to a charity of the band’s picking, the choice seemed obvious. The individual members of Thrice had always been involved in charity work, but may not have followed the same path with the band if it weren’t for Posen’s influence. “I don’t think we would have understood that it was possible as a band,” explains Ed. “When he gave us the choice, it seemed right. He created the model and we’ve been able to continue that. I’m very glad he did it and I’m proud of Louis for creating that.” Since then, Thrice have continued to select a charity for each release, even after leaving Sub-City (the label recently celebrated $1 million in money raised through CD sales, many of which were Thrice records). Thrice has made significant donations to many different charities while following their path to Island Records for two albums, and their recent signing to Vagrant Records for a pair of double EP releases, The Alchemy Index. “It was definitely Louis that opened our eyes to how easy it is to get involved. You don’t have to be Bono or sitting on piles of money and donate millions of dollars to charity to make a difference. You can donate a small amount, or your time, or your skills,” says Riley. The band have held benefit shows, sold exclusive merchandise for charity, and done everything else in their power to try to effect change in the lives of others. Still, they don’t consider themselves a political band. The band’s lyrics do address social issues, but they hope everyone will ultimately make their own decisions. And all the better if fans get exposed to some of the causes the band supports. “We’re not a preachy band,” says Ed. “Maybe indirectly we’d like to help a movement or get bands to give more, but mostly it’s just our way of giving back on a personal level.” Thrice’s members came from fairly stable backgrounds and feel fortunate to be able to help the needy. The process of choosing a charity for their next release isn’t too tough, since there’s an abundance of worthwhile organizations that could use help. Donating part of their album sales has become, as guitarist Teranishi puts it, a “no-brainer.” “We’re very grateful for being in the kind of situation we’re in,” adds Riley, “and it’s definitely not something we take for granted, so when we are presented with the opportunity to help someone who is less fortunate, it’s an easy choice to get involved.” After the success of their Island Records debut, The Artist in the Ambulance, Thrice had enough clout to headline summer punk festivals and bring a strong following along with them. When their Island follow-up, Vheissu, hit in 2005, the band’s fan-base became more fervent, but they never quite hit it big. And without extra money coming in (all four members use the band as a primary income), donating part of their profits is a selfless act, and a somewhat questionable one financially. “It’s definitely a sacrifice. I think any giving is. But we started doing this before we had any money,” chuckles Kensrue, “so I think we’ve gotten used to it. We’re not rich in comparison to other musicians, but we’re making ends meet.” Teranishi puts it more bluntly: “We are giving away our personal money, but compared to 90 percent of the world, and living the way I do, I don’t feel like I have the right to complain about that.” Island used to match Thrice’s donations to a certain amount, but they decided not to pursue this arrangement with their new label, Vagrant. Instead, the band is taking control of their charity work and leaving the label out of it. “We’re taking the charity thing into our own hands. It always ended up getting really complicated, especially when we were dealing with a major label,” explains Riley. “Since we’re the ones who want to make the donation, it’s going to come entirely from our pocket and it’s not going to involve the label at all. It’s nothing to do with them being reluctant or anything. We didn’t even bring it up.” The concept of do-it-yourself not only applies to the band’s charity work, but also the creation of their latest endeavor, the ultra-ambitious four-EP set, The Alchemy Index. Featuring six songs on each of the four discs (released in two installments), and representing the elements of earth, air, water, and fire, the project was recorded and produced solely by the band. “The idea was to make something more aesthetic, and it cuts down on profits a little,” chuckles Kensrue nervously, “but it’s important to us to have the product and the package presented in the way we wanted to.” Uncompromising in their vision, the band made the decision to stagger the two double EPs by six months so listeners could absorb the material slowly. “In the end we decided it would be an overload of music to release 24 songs at once,” says Kensrue. Thrice also obsessed over what would be on each record, how the theme or mood would play out, and how strictly they would stick to the elements, lyrically and musically. The first two EPs, Fire and Water, sound appropriate to their moods; Fire is a heavy, riff-laden disc, and Water is flowing and electronic-sounding. All four discs represent different aspects of the band’s sound, which has progressed over the years. “Because we split it up like that in four parts, we were really able to push further in each direction, and really extend into different styles of music,” explains Teranishi. For the first two volumes of The Alchemy Index, the band chose the Blood:Water Mission as its charity. The group does work in Africa to help communities with clean water and AIDS relief. Other than promoting the organizations they raise money for and trying to spread awareness, Thrice aren’t interested in tooting their own horns when it comes to their charity work. “I always have mixed feelings about publicizing any of this,” says Kensrue, “but the reason I keep making it public is because I want to get the word out about these different charities. My hope is that it inspires other bands and just people in general.” Donating to charity has become a big part of Thrice over the years; and it’s something they aren’t interested in changing any time soon. “People are sometimes discouraged to give because they don’t have that much money and they are just trying to make ends meet," says Kensrue, who pauses, then adds, “but if you are consistently giving, it changes the way you view money, and it changes the way you view other people.”
Since they started in 1996, Thrice—vocalist/guitarist Dustin Kensrue, guitarist Teppei Teranishi, drummer Riley Breckenridge, and bassist Ed Breckenridge—have donated to many charities. On their first album, Identity Crisis, the band was asked by their label at the time, Sub-City, to pick a charity to donate to. Since then, Thrice have continued to pick one to accompany each release.
Album: Identity Crisis Charity: Crittenton Services for Women and Children Helping children and young adults through abuse and neglect, Crittenton Services in Fullerton, CA was an organization the band could easily get behind. Harbor Campus, a division of Crittenton, gives children access to many programs, such as art, music, and sports. “We did a little acoustic show for the kids that were staying there. They were just excited to see some live music and to talk to us, and that was actually a lot of fun,” remembers Kensrue. More info: kidsmatter.org
Album: Illusion of Safety Charity: A Place Called Home A Place Called Home is a center for at-risk and impoverished youth in South Central LA which includes a music program with instruments and a recording studio. The centre created a youth music scholarship in Thrice’s name. “The contribution we made was so small, but we were able to do something to make those kids so happy,” says Riley. More info: apch.org
Album: The Artist in the Ambulance Charity: The Syrentha J. Savio Endowment (SSE) Run by Mark Beemer, a close friend of the band, SSE provides financial assistant to low income women fighting breast cancer. SSE raises funds through a variety of different projects, such as the Shirts for a Cure Project (go to merchnow.com/shirtsforacure for exclusive t-shirt designs from Thrice and other bands). “One of the most memorable things we’ve done with them is the Race for a Cure. We’ve participated in [the race] as a band twice, and it was an amazing experience,” says Teranishi. More info: syrentha.org
Album: Vheissu Charity: 826 Valencia Founded by Bay Area writer Dave Eggers, who also did the cover art for Vheissu, 826 Valencia helps students in San Francisco with their writing skills. “It made sense that we were working together with [Eggers] on the artwork, and he had a cool charity, so we decided to support it,” says Teranishi. More info: 826valencia.com
Album: Vheissu Charity: Invisible Children Thrice also did a number of benefit shows supporting Vheissu to raise funds for the documentary film Invisible Children, a behind-the-scenes look at the exploitation of Ugandan children. “We were out on tour and Tim from Underoath knew the filmmakers,” explains Riley. “He passed along the DVD to us, and I just remember watching it on the bus and being blown away. It was so moving.” More info: invisiblechildren.com
Album: The Alchemy Index, Vol. 1 and 2 Charity: Blood: Water Mission Founded by Christian band Jars of Clay, this organizations helps African villages with clean water and AIDS relief. “It’s about making sustainable progress in those communities,” explains Kensrue, “and not go in and be all Western, like, ‘Here’s this big, new thing,’ but about empowering communities to take ownership of the wells they are building and things like that. It’s actually creating a better environment for the communities’ future.” The band is currently deciding on a charity for the second part of The Alchemy Index, out this Spring. More info: bloodwatermission.com
Random thoughts: Interviewed them before I ever saw them live. Liked their stuff, but wasn't a big fan. Everything changed once I saw their show.
The Constantines
Getting ready for the make out
By Jason Schreurs
Good news and bad news for fans of Toronto’s indie rock powerhouse The Constantines. First, the bad: The band has not started writing a follow-up to 2005’s pulsating Tournament of Hearts. Now, the good: They have talked about which direction their next record will go. Quick, grab your partner, sounds like they will be setting the mood for a little romance.
“We’ll probably just try to make a really good make out record,” says guitarist/vocalist Bryan Webb. “But it depends on what you like to make out to, so it will have to have that dynamic arc that making out has in the best of situations.”
Sort of makes you wonder where this delicious little make out record idea came from, and how much of it is based on personal experience.
“Yeah, yeah… sure,” Webb pauses, laughs nervously, then clears his throat, “it’s based a fair amount of personal experience.”
Between personal make out sessions, the Ontario quintet have taken a workhorse approach to writing kinetic, angular indie rock inspired by DC post-hardcore bands like Hoover and Nation of Ulysses, but also by rock and soul classics like Rolling Stones and James Brown. Throw in a lifelong obsession with Neil Young’s Crazy Horse (members play in a tribute band called Horsey Craze) and the result is one of Canada’s best rock bands. A rock band whose fans can’t wait for what comes next.
“I think [the new one will be] the next logical step. People called Tournament of Hearts a bit of a burnout record. From there, you want to go romantic, maybe, so…” he pauses again and laughs. “I don’t know; that’s my thinking on it.”
“It’s a means of keeping things interesting for us and it’s also something a lot of the bands we love do,” explains Webb. “Things are drawn out and the songs have a different life every time they are performed; it’s just so much more interesting than playing the same structure every night. Sometimes things just go in terrible directions; which is kind of funny, but still interesting.”
As for their show at Lucky Bar next Wednesday, Webb says their set will be “interesting” and a “revue” of their discography (he humbly hesitates to say “greatest hits”). But more importantly, will it include any making out?
“Yeah, well, hopefully,” chuckles Webb. “We’ll see. We’ll try and make it romantic for the people of Victoria. It will probably be pretty sweaty, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
Random thoughts: Yeah, it's always a blast interviewing the metal dudes, especially when they start talking about German thrash legends Kreator unprovoked. Now that's my kind of interview!
The Psychology of Thrash
Warbringer bang heads and take no prisoners
By Jason Schreurs
Let’s face it, thrash metal isn’t for everyone. And John Kevill, vocalist for California thrash maniacs Warbringer, is quick to agree.
“The average Joe isn’t into blazing thrash metal or anything,” explains Kevill. “The whole idea behind thrash is it’s supposed to be a riff-driven rollercoaster ride. And most thrash is all about war, death, violence, and evil. But if you’re watching Predator you don’t want to see a love scene with Arnold Schwarzenegger. Fuck no; you want to see him kicking as much ass as possible, all the time. And that’s what thrash does in music form.”
The Ventura, CA five-piece has effortlessly scaled the heap of bands leading a thrash metal resurgence. Although these guys are still young (Kevill is 21), they face the same stereotypes that thrash forefathers like Metallica, Slayer, and Testament battled in their early years. That thrash is just a phase; that it’s mindless noise played by talentless rejects.
“I think that’s bullshit, because thrash is like metal’s equivalent of the blues,” argues Kevill. “There’s a specific set of parameters to still be a full-on thrash band. But within that mold there’s endless variations, and the art is getting the tempo changes just right, getting the right riffs to go off each other in the right way… at the very least, thrash musicians have to be able to play at consistently high tempos, and it’s not something that just anybody can do.”
The key, according to Kevill, is to look past the extreme imagery (the band’s debut album title, War without End, says it all) and see thrash for what it is—the musical equivalent of a well-crafted action movie put to tape.
“And if you say, ‘Oh, this is just kid’s stuff.’ No, a lot of it is carefully arranged and thought out from a musical standpoint,” he says.
In fact, thrash metal is so respected in indie rock and hardcore/punk circles that a disturbing trend of “ironic metal” bands has littered the metal arena the past few years, causing severe annoyance to diehards like Kevill.
“A lot of times I’ll hear some indie rock kid say, ‘Oh yeah, that’s cool, that’s cool. Ha ha.’ And a lot of these guys probably couldn’t play one song off any Kreator album. Not even close. And let alone a whole set of it. It’s like, ‘You think it’s easy. Okay, now do it tight. And keep it double-timed because doing it half-timed is for wimps!’”
Random thoughts: Here's one of the many times I've "flipped" an interview to more than one magazine. The key here is deciding on a slightly different angle and not overlapping the quotes. The first piece was for Chord, the second for Caustic Truths, a horrible rag of a glossy that seems to have called it quits, thankfully. Notice the second article delves more into the whole Nick Oliveri fiasco. As for Josh Homme, well, he was actually a real hoot to interview. I've heard countless stories about him being a big dick, but he was humble, funny, and charming to yours truly. Unless he was just putting me on...
Originally published in: Chord Magazine
Queens of the Stone Age Lullabies for the deaf, from the desert
By Jason Schreurs
If it was up to Josh Homme, leader of Queens of the Stone Age, he’d probably never leave the desert.
“I’ve actually been at home for the longest I’ve been in 14 years. I’ve been at home for a year or so,” says Homme from his home-base in Joshua Tree, CA.
Homme has been working hard on a new Queens album, Lullabies to Paralyze, in the legendary Rancho de la Luna studio. He’s also been trying to relax since coming off a whirlwind of touring, the firing of longtime bassist Nick Oliveri, and going into a self-imposed cultural vacuum.
As the touring machine rumbles back to life to promote an album sans-Oliveri, Homme may not be happy about leaving his comfortable surroundings, but is content he’s made the music he wanted to make.
“You’re supposed to make your favorite music,” he insists. “It seems like people are running from their music and they are making it for someone else, and I just didn’t learn it that way.”
Homme grew up in Palm Desert, CA, forming stoner rock purveyors Kyuss with Oliveri in the early ‘90s when they were teenagers. Homme speaks affectionately for what has become know as the “desert scene,” one he’s nurtured with the popular Desert Sessions series. It’s a scene that has always preached individuality.
“The whole desert scene is like that,” says Homme. “Man, when we were kids, if you didn’t play your favorite music and, on top of that, if it sounded like anyone else, you were fucked. I mean, you’d basically get ostracized.” After the runaway success of their last album, Songs for the Deaf, and the subsequent ejection of Oliveri, high pressure surrounded the release of the new Queens album. Homme, however, doesn’t seem phased with the lofty anticipation of Lullabies to Paralyze.
“Well, I want people to like it, but how many people like it, those are the things I just don’t have any control over,” states Homme calmly. “I’m also okay with people that don’t dig it. I know that I love this record and so it’s already a success for me; and the rest is not shit that I should be worried about.”
Queens are currently a three-piece -– Homme, drummer Joey Castillo (ex-Danzig), and guitarist Troy Van Leeuwen (ex-A Perfect Circle) -- with Desert Sessions member Alain Johannes playing bass on the new album and guitar tech “Dan Druff” handling bass on their current tour. There’s been no rush to find a permanent bassist to replace Oliveri.
A loose cannon on and off stage, Oliveri frustrated and angered the mellower Homme with his violent and erratic behavior. According to Homme, recording the calmer Lullabies without the presence of Oliveri became a liberating experience.
“There was a part of me that felt free,” he confides, “but, at the same time, we never really talked about Nick. And not because it was a taboo subject, it wasn’t that big of a deal when we were making the record.”
It seems unlikely, but rumors have Oliveri returning to the band. Either way, the two have patched things up, Homme recently contributing to Oliveri’s longtime project Mondo Generator. But when Oliveri was turfed, a media circus ensued when all Homme wanted to do was focus on recording new songs. It was at this point Homme decided to hole the band away and get down to business.
“Too much attention was put on the fact Nick and I weren’t understanding each other,” he explains. “So I said a few times, ‘We’re not going to make a record for a couple of months,’ but we were already in the studio. It just felt like we needed to do this without being under the watchful eye of anybody.”
The result is the most listenable Queens album yet, Homme’s smooth voice commanding attention for 14 lengthy but varied songs. It’s a departure from previous efforts, especially Songs for the Deaf, but Homme is all about moving forward. “The first three records were learning certain things, and this is almost the exorcizing of everything that got learned.”
In a defining moment, guitar legend Billy Gibbons (ZZ Top) showed up at the studio to play guitar on one song from Lullabies to Paralyze. Now that must have been a thrill.
“Man, as we would say down here, ‘It was tits!’ I learned more shit in one day than I have in years,” beams Homme.
But the days of hanging out in the desert with the likes of Gibbons have been put on hold until the touring machine settles back down and the road-dogs in Queens decide it’s time for another break. Before leaving for a US tour, Homme is having trouble getting psyched up, settled in to a comfortable life in the desert.
“I’m hoping I’ll be excited once it starts,” he grasps. “I think I learned a subtle, different way to live down here and I’m totally digging it.”
Originally published in: Caustic Truths
(Defunct? God, I hope so.)
Queens of the Stone Age Finding solace in the desert
By Jason Schreurs
The first thing Queens of the Stone Age frontman Josh Homme needed to do in order to focus on the band’s latest album, Lullabies to Paralyze, was to hole himself up in his desert ranch recording studio, and just get away from the rest of the world. So who was he trying to distance himself from?
Was it eager fans urgently awaiting the first Queens album after the parting of longtime bassist Nick Oliveri, record labels rubbing their hands together for the next “No One Knows” to slog to rock radio, or the watchful eyes of Oliveri himself?
“Just anybody else, you know,” shrugs Homme, deflecting the question. “We’ve made records for ourselves for a long time and now’s the wrong time to change that. It just doesn’t make sense to now do it for another reason.”
Despite having a mission to produce the record he wanted to make without any outside influence, recording in the infamous Rancho de la Luna studio, home to Homme’s popular Desert Session series, must have been a bit strange without the overbearing presence of notorious wildman Oliveri. So, was it weird not having Nick there during the recording process?
“I’ve made records without Nick before,” states Homme. “So, if the question is: Was it weird? Not really. If the question is: Was it hard? The answer is no.”
Despite a nasty break-up of the two Queens mainstays, Homme and Oliveri (who also played together in stoner rock purveyors Kyuss) have since patched things up. In fact, rumors have been swirling about a possible return of Oliveri to the Queens fold. For now though, Homme isn’t letting on, although he does confirm the two are again on a friendly basis. In fact, he’s gonna record four tracks on the new album by Oliveri’s longtime Mondo Generator project.
“I was at his house four days ago,” quips Homme, “so I think it’s more about what other people don’t understand, than it is about what Nick and I understand.”
One thing that is clear is the latest album by Queens of the Stone Age is not an attempt to recreate the elements left behind when Oliveri exited the band. This album is very much Homme; stacked with his falsetto vocals, mellow meanderings, and some of the most pleasing riffs from the band to date. And, sorry Oliveri fans, not a shred of screaming.
When all is said and done, Lullabies to Paralyze hasn’t rewritten the book on rock, but it’s got amazing subtleties to add to the rock and roll formula. According to Homme, his goal wasn’t to make revolutionary rock, but to find a way to add his magic touch to an already established sound.
“I think people are always like, ‘I’m a snowflake,’” he says, “and, well, not really, you know? You have to articulate the very few things about you that are different.”
Since the previous Queens album, Songs for the Deaf, got so damn huge, it’s interesting to hear Homme’s perspective on the runaway success of the album, and the strange turn of events that had “No One Knows” cranking out of every monster truck and muscle car in North America. So, did he have an inkling that song would break as big as it did?
“I thought that song was special,” he says, “but I think I got accustomed to thinking, ‘This song is special, but people aren’t going to realize that, because they never have before.’ You get a sort of weird, squishy comfort in failure, especially when failure is determined by a record label.”
And was it strange for a dude who built his career on self-indulgence and music for art’s sake to be pulled into the swirling hype machine that had his band pandered to the mainstream?
“I let go of my punk rock guilt when I started Queens,” he insists. “Because that shit… is not up to me, man. I’m not necessarily playing this game under those rules, if shit’s gotta blow up, it’s gotta blow up, but my goal isn’t to be in U2.”
While the new album doesn’t have an immediate hit single like “No One Knows” on it (radio has grabbed the simplistic “Little Sister” as its choice), it is chock full of songs that Homme holds near and dear to his heart. Out of the 14 tracks, album closer “Long Slow Goodbye” gives him the same special feeling as “No One Knows” from the last record, despite being a
completely different kind of song.
“’Long Slow Goodbye’ is a song that I’m probably most proud of out of all the songs I’ve written,” he claims. “It’s honest and for real, and just a tight little song. I don’t know if the kids are going to buy, buy, buy, but it means a lot to me and I’m proud of it.”
Now that Queens of the Stone Age have entered a new chapter without Oliveri, Homme is not focusing on the past. But, you gotta wonder, does he ever miss his formative musical years, like when he was finding his path through the groundbreaking sounds of Kyuss?
“I appreciate the days of being in that band, but I don’t sit at home and go, ‘God, I wish, man…’” says Homme. “Because I loved every minute of those days while it was going on, so it doesn’t make me have any regrets or think the past is better than the present. I’m much more about now than I am about future and past.”
Random thoughts: Cursed broke up last year. Shitty deal. And all that stuff about them being really loud when they played live? Not an exaggeration. At all.
Throat lozenge, anyone?
Damaged vocal chords and busted eardrums with Cursed
By Jason Schreurs
Cursed screamer Chris Colohan is sounding like he blew a gasket or two on the Toronto metal/hardcore band’s recent jaunt through Europe and the US. And as long as he hasn’t completely annihilated his throat, he should be good to go for their upcoming batch of shows heading back across Canada.
“I don’t want to have to go to the doctor, but I’m sure I’ll find out one day,” says Colohan. “But it’s our hearing that’s probably going to go first.”
True enough. Cursed, featuring longtime members of the Toronto hardcore scene and bands like Left for Dead and The Swarm, has become known for being one of Canada’s loudest bands, often bringing with them more guitar and bass cabinets than most eardrums can handle. But it’s Colohan’s raging vocals that sound the most inhuman.
“I kind of have to wreck my voice to make it work. I have to fuck it up and then it’s okay,” says Colohan about his unique technique and corresponding devil scream. “I don’t think I ever knew what the hell I was doing and I don’t really think I do now. I just kind of scream my fucking head off and the chips fall where they do.”
Complimenting the band’s Motorhead meets Black Flag mayhem this time out is a nasty, dirty, raw (and completely analog, to boot) production sound for their second full-length, aptly titled Two, on Goodfellow Records out of Hamilton.
The throbbing racket comes courtesy of one Ian Blurton, best known for his production work with The Weakerthans, and the latest in a long line of his own bands, C’mon. Who, incidentally, Colohan has roadied for in the past. Cosmic Cursed connections, indeed.
“[Blurton] just has a really good grip on what we’re already trying to do and helped us focus into something a little more… I can’t say polished, because nothing we’re ever gonna do will come out that polished, but we’re all really happy with the way it turned out,” he says.
When Cursed hits town Tuesday, one thing avid record collector Colohan looks forward to, besides a soothing cup of tea, is a visit to Turntable, Victoria’s most authentic vinyl emporium. But better make that a short visit.
“That place is dangerous,” he laughs. “I’ve got to be careful with my money when I go in there.”
Originally published in: Monday Magazine
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