So it was that Mike McAdam and I
finally got together and entered the studio at North Main Music
to start knocking out vocals for the S.E. Apocalypse Krew album. It
was the morning of April 6th, 2016.
ON BEING A BAD SINGER
In this age of contrived TV pop star contests like "The Voice" and our late, un-lamented "American Idol" (Okay---I'M not lamenting it----I guess it's not fair to drag you into my rotten attitude) the notion of being an untalented vocalist is probably some weird anomaly that gets scuttled early on in the elimination process and summarily forgotten in the maelstrom of yodeling, warbling, camera-ready ninnies, at least 'til the reunion special. But all or most of my heroes were guys with limited or no vocal ability; Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, John Lydon, Joey Ramone, Stiv Bators, Jello Biafra, Darby Crash, Alice Cooper, Lux Interior, Handsome Dick Manitoba, Alan Vega and any of the guys who were in Black Flag.
ON BEING A BAD SINGER
In this age of contrived TV pop star contests like "The Voice" and our late, un-lamented "American Idol" (Okay---I'M not lamenting it----I guess it's not fair to drag you into my rotten attitude) the notion of being an untalented vocalist is probably some weird anomaly that gets scuttled early on in the elimination process and summarily forgotten in the maelstrom of yodeling, warbling, camera-ready ninnies, at least 'til the reunion special. But all or most of my heroes were guys with limited or no vocal ability; Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, John Lydon, Joey Ramone, Stiv Bators, Jello Biafra, Darby Crash, Alice Cooper, Lux Interior, Handsome Dick Manitoba, Alan Vega and any of the guys who were in Black Flag.
One of the great appeals of Punk
Rock to me (and I'll confess I got to the party late---it wasn't
until the early-to-mid '80s that I fully embraced the genre) was the
beautiful, field-leveling effect of “anyone can do it”. In
listening to the Pistols, the Heartbreakers, Flag or the Stooges it
began to hit me that even a no-talent schmuck like myself could grab
a mic, start a band and air out his sizeable beefs with the world
under the auspices of rock'n'roll.
When Mike suggested reigniting
the Apocalypse Krew and recording the old songs again I think I made
some mention of his own vocals. Mike is technically a much better
singer than I ever was. Don't believe me? Listen to his solo work.
His immediate response was,
“you're the only vocalist for this band!” For my money, Mike has
several songs under his belt that fit just fine into the Apocalypse
Krew milieu and his vocal histrionics on those numbers are equal to
the task.
But who was I to deny the chance at
tying this chapter of my life into a neat little bow and giving it to
the world with a smile?
One thing I always loved about
our music, though, was that we had a modicum of natural diversity and
versatility, to where we could play a blistering punk rock rave-up
and then switch gears to something more sludgy and metallic, throw a
few weird little jazz figures into the mix, bust out the acoustic
guitars for a funny folk tune, then go into kind of a weird funk jam.
And even as a guy who can't sing, I can work with these changes and
create something interesting to listen to. I like to think so,
anyway.
I remember at some point in the
late 90s/early Oughts, I went to see this metal band---I can no
longer think of their name---they were a big deal in metal circles at
the time---they'd just been signed to a major label, as I recall, and
played one of the bigger local venues at the time. A well-known local
band I was friendly with opened---they were playing without a bassist
at the time and were definitely in a period of flux----it made no
real difference to the music and they still blew the headliners off
the stage.The headliners played music that was somewhat derivative of
Iron Maiden----lots of dual guitar leads and some time changes....two
or three songs into their set you'd heard everything they were going
to do----there were no slow songs, no fast songs---no real SONGS to
speak of----everything ran at the same pace and it all kind of melted
together after awhile----no hills and valleys---the same thing over
and over.
When you go to see a band like the
Rolling Stones, they might start up with “Start Me Up” and
continue with “Rocks Off” or “Brown Sugar”, but it'll only be
a matter of time before they change it up with “Sister Morphine”
or “Miss You”. Then they'll come back with a rocker like
“Shattered” or “Jumping Jack Flash”, but you know in a few
songs they'll change it up with “You Can't Always get what you
Want” or “Sympathy for the Devil”.
Or maybe those Stones are a bunch
of deadass old fogeys. OKAY: How about Faith No More? They might
come darting out at you with “From Out of Nowhere” or “Gentle
Art of Making Enemies”, but then they'll throw something like
“Falling to Pieces” or “We Care a Lot” at you. Later on
they'll bust into “Strip Search”, “Motherfucker” or
“Evidence”--they'll go all gospel with “Just a Man” and then
they'll goof on you with “This Guy's in Love with You” or “Easy”.
My point is that I kinda prefer
bands that do that. To one degree or another, I try to do that.
Same goes for singers, including
a lot of current bad singers. I hear a lot of people who are doing
the Black Metal or the Grindcore or the Screamo or the Hardcore and
it feels like they only do one thing. A lot of hardcore vocalists run
on a non-stop menu of one-size-fits-all hoarse roaring that guys like
Henry Rollins or Phil Anselmo put in the map---minus those vocalists'
level of nuance (quit laughin').
And my point is, nuance is
good. Switching gears is good.
“MELISSA”: THE PECULIAR ZEN OF
INSOLENCE
“We are not stupid boys but
we want to do it wrong”
--REDD KROSS
Mike opened up Pro-Tools on his
computer.
Okay----as a Video Editor,
this one was familiar to me. It was not unlike looking at a timeline
on Final Cut Pro or Avid.
“So, you wanna softball
one?” He asked.
I thought for a few. “How
about 'Melissa'?”
Mike brought up a timeline
for “Melissa”. It was a natural starter where we could calibrate
things. “Melissa” was probably the simplest song in our
oeuvre....it consists of one simple goddamn riff. Our old
theory-headed drummer once told us the riff was a Vamp. We laughed at
this at the time, but he was a well-read cat who probably knew
whereof he spoke.
I got into the booth and the
feeling-out process that would accompany every song went down. I put
on the headset and bellied up to the mic and the de-S'er screen as
the familiar, bouncy riff kicked
in.
“I
hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” I screamed, kicking the song
off.
“You were once immortal
Now you're a pig
You were making motions
with the other side”
Mike
killed the music. “Okay---is that how you're gonna do it?”
“Yeah,
more or less....is that okay?” It was a question I would ask about
six hundred times over the next two days.
“Yeah, it's good---I'm just trying to find the right level. Stand
back from the mic a bit.”
We
would routinely go through any given song a few times. Mike would
need to find the level that was appropriate for however I wanted to
do the vocal. I'd have to run through it once or twice in order to
“find” the arrangement or at least get acclimated to the song.
And then there were the snafus.
One thing
I'd gotten very bad about after twentyish years away from the mic was
nailing my cues.
A couple of
takes into “Melissa” he told me, “there's a lot of stuff in
here where you're coming in late to your lines but it kinda
works...there's a whole raw, imperfect kind of rock'n'roll vibe to
it.”
I came
out of the booth and gave it a listen. Mike was right---I was coming
in late on the shit. As it was landing I could accept all of it
except the last verse, which was so bad even I couldn't deal with it.
We punched in the last verse and I nailed it after a time or two.
“Melissa” was very much Mike's song....with the new recording I
heard that it was a fair bit longer than it was originally and so the
last verse was one I came up with.
“All day long I'm walking 'round with shank eyes,” I squawked.
“All these jokers got a walking blowjob, I want an open door, I get
platitudes and snowjobs!”
It's not a
nice song. It's not a mature song. It's probably one of the single
most obnoxious songs we ever did.
I remember
partying with some co-workers back in the Apocalypse Krew days. One
guy referenced a female co-worker we'd had once, saying, “we called
her Merry-Go-Round, because all the guys got a turn riding her.”
I got all
dark and said, “I never rode her.”
My
friends ignored me and went on to another subject, which was probably
smart.
I liked
the girl in question. Part of me was bothered by hearing her referred
to as “Merry-Go-Round”, but a bigger, darker part of me was angry
because I would have liked a ride. What the fuck was wrong with me?
The endless refrain. I couldn't step outside that conversation at the
time, of course...how much of what these guys said was smack talk?
Was the fact that I was this outcast, this imploded Asperger's case,
the reason I couldn't hook up with a girl?
Yeah.....that probably had a lot to do with it.
“Melissa' is the ultimate piece of freaked-out, horny
atavism...it's the stupid, raging Boy-Id on parade.
The
imagined charges by the emotionally and politically dainty types
could be seen mounting. Those awful guys in the SE Apocalypse Krew.
They're sexist, they're misogynist, they're homophobic, they're
racist. They have less than your maximum daily allowance of
Roboflavin.
“Melissa” is not a song that will help in this regard.
When I
exited the booth, Mike was laughing. “Sung like an insolent five
year old throwing a temper tantrum,” he chuckled.
Was that a
good thing? Under the circumstances, yes it was.
“Melissa” is not just a song about being rejected or
ignored---it's a song about being slighted in favor of someone you
consider to be way the hell beneath you. It's the musical equivalent
of being bitten in the face by a retarded dog.
We
listened back on it. “Whaddya think?” He asked.
“I'm
okay with it,” I said. “What do you think? Is it any good?”
“Yeah,”
he said. “The thing about it is, this is one of the easiest songs
we're going to do---we have a lot more to go through and a lot of
them are going to be more complicated than this one. One of the
things that's working well in our favor is that this isn't the way
I'd normally record vocals. With you, it's like, what am I gonna do?
Say, 'Try it again----you were a little flat!'?”
Well, I
told you already about the advantages of being a bad singer.
We
were off and running.
“THREATS AND WARNINGS”: HEART OF THE APOCALYPSE
“Once
again, you've judged a reflection of yourselves. Your children will
rise up and kill you...LA will burn to the ground. Los Angeles will
burn to the ground.”
---SANDRA GOOD
At this point I'm delivering a ballpark memory of the docket
as we tackled it (I was allowed to dictate the songs and the order
in which we recorded them).
“Threats and Warnings” would not, by my guesstimation, be
a really tough one to do, but it was a big one. Initially, I think
that we wanted to entitle our first album “Threats and Warnings”
and it was obviously one of our big numbers.
It's a heavy and dynamic song and there's a lot going on in it,
musically speaking. When you listened to the SE Apocalypse Krew we
pegged this as one of the songs that defined us.
The song kicks off with a descending fireball of a riff,
accompanied by avalanching drums.
“ You shielding the kids from the power of choice/they'll be
fine, just don't give 'em a voice/
Keep their brains shut and feed them video sedatives/preserve
the future from the power to know/
Keep on lying in the lid's gonna blow”
I actually took it down a peg on the vocals, here, compared to
the old demo, where it was just a lot of leather-lunged bellowing.
The words are important, give 'em emphasis.
And as that cascading riff-hem subsides, I bark, in a
militant staccato, “S!E!A!K!” The main riff starts in earnest.
One thing I've always loved about hiphop (and, to a somewhat
lesser degree, hardcore punk, especially the old stuff) is the
exclusive lingo, the tribalistic language, the fact that you have to
be in the fold and know all the secret phrases---it's gangspeak. In
Punk, Suicidal Tendencies were the absolute kings of this---a lot of
the fan uniform art you see on their first album reads, “gang”---it's
all very tribal. To paraphrase John Shelby Spong, don't ever discount
the power of tribalism. Tribalism is the reason people fly planes
into buildings. Black Flag also understood this back in the early
days----those tags of the Bar Logo were everywhere in they were very
much regarded a gang sign and an emblem of quasi-terrorism on the
punk scene. Chanted initials comes from the same place. I was trying
to create the same tribal impulse.
“The lies you've built will explode in your
face/
Your petty fabrications will rip themselves
apart/
Joke of your deceptions is an open book/
Our songs are Threats and Warnings”
On “T & W”, more than anything else we did, there was
a push toward the Mansonian Credo of “Make it Witchy”. I wanted
to make it plain that if proper, puritanical society went down the
tubes and suddenly we were dealing with violence and riots per Ms.
Good's social prescription, the S.E. Apocalypse Krew understood and
we were okay with that.
Yeah, my mind goes to dark places sometimes. Frequently.
Okay----most of the time.
The original ending lyric for “T&W”, almost spoken as
the furious intro-riff kicks in again, went something like, “when
someone reaches out to you/ you smile and say, 'I don't see it,
everything's great'/and then you wonder/why people like me are so
full of hate.”
For the new recordings I scrapped this and shoehorned in a
bridge section from “Caustic Youth”, an older number of ours that
fell by the wayside.
“ 'Don't worry, be happy' says the man on TV/
something about that fails to impress me/
like rats in a maze you obedient scurrying/
now I think it's time to start worrying”
And I'm aware that I'm really dating us with the Bobby McFerrin
reference—-in the end, what can I tell you? We're products of our
time.
What had been going on in my head since I started reworking
the song was this---”T & W” is one of our better songs, hence
it was worth recording, but it has no contemporary context to speak
of. I wrote it as a reaction to authoritarian bullies like the Moral
Majority and the PMRC. That climate no longer really exists...mostly
society seems ensconced in kind of a blanket blandness. As much as
people ballyhoo Orwell, I'm more of a Huxley guy. Who needs
jackbooted oppression when you can just feed everybody their Soma and
give them all the soft-pedaled convenience they want? The Revolution
will not be televised----the Revolution may not be happening. Fuck,
man, “The Kardshians” are on.
Which is why I did a double-take when we wrapped it up and
Mike said, “it's truer now than it was back then.”
Is it? Okay, well...be nice if that were the case. We'll see, I
guess.
Coming in late on my cues was a chronic problem for me. It
would continue to be a problem for the entire session. Mike espoused
the belief that rock'n'roll is not a perfect art, and corporate rock
acts like Foreigner, Styx and Journey, with their squeaky-clean
precision, were, in essence, a ruination of the form. I was never a
huge fan of any of those bands, and I wasn't about to argue.
Where the mess-ups were sufficiently “Rock'n'Roll”, we just
let it bleed. Where they were so outlandish and stupid that even I
couldn't let them go, we went back and did them over. And we kept on
going.
“THE BLIND LEADING THE STUPID”: A STRANGE INTERLUDE
“Truth is Parallel”
---ROZZ WILLIAMS
“The Blind Leading the Stupid”, aka “Truth is Dead”,
was a weird little anomaly we could softball. It's actually a very
tasty, atmospheric little jazz jam that jumps out from the pack of
crunch-riffing, screaming and fury. There's a fun little bit of
guitar/bass interplay while I read a short spoken word piece.
“Truth is Dead.
Facts, whatever 'facts' are,
have been replaced by factoids and
carefully-orchestrated
pie charts. Educators are being
outmoded by ass-kissers
and line-towers. Soothsayers are
being rubbed out by
statisticians and polltakers.
Truth is dead and exhumed
as a neon cartoon character. Truth
is a subjective whore,
up for grabs to the highest
bidder. But why take my word?
After all----what am I but another
liar?”
I wrote that in the mid '80s, watching the 24-hour News Cycle
in its full, infantile glory, watching the guy from the right wing of
the CIA argue with the guy from the left wing of the CIA on
“Crossfire”. Now? We're on to some next level shit....the
adherents of Fox News and the adherents of MSNBC are running around
with two different sets of “facts” in their head and in the
infotainment cyclone perceptions of reality are hitting a level of
schizophrenia we've never seen before. People live in different
realities.You can argue all day as the veracity of my ravings
on”Threats and Warnings”----with “Truth is Dead” it gets
truer and scarier by the day.
I'm sorry I got that right. I'm sorry I got that right.
There were several cuts of “Truth” (mostly instrumental)
floating around on various tapes over the years...until I was
recording, there was one thing that never hit me, and it was that the
current version Mike had whipped together was much shorter than I was
used to. The earlier rendition had me spew my little hypothesis and
then let the jam breathe for a while. As I nailed the final version
in 2016 it occurred to me that as the last word was leaving my mouth,
the last note of the song was fading. I always thought Mike's tasty
instrumentation was the highlight of the song, but the current
version never got out from under me.
Listen good to that music while I ramble, 'cause it's worth
hearing.
GOIN' POSTAL: THE DULCET TONES OF “TIME BOMB”
“Someday a real rain'll come and wash all the scum off the
street.”
--TRAVIS BICKLE, “TAXI DRIVER”
“Time Bomb” would be an
easy one, because we knew it well and it was a song that remained
fundamentally unchanged since the early '90's. It comes charging out
of the speakers like a mad bull and before you know it, it's
stampeded over you and it's over. Except for Mike's sharper, more
concise guitar work, you could liken it to something an Oi band like
the Exploited or Discharge might have pumped out.
“That picket fence that I can't get
behind/
the barriers that burn inside my
mind/
one look at you and I get bad ideas/
I lost my head, now I'm a time bomb!
Can I co-exist with you/Can you
co-exist with me
Can I even pass your test?/ Not as
far as you can see!”
The protagonist of “Time Bomb” is a guy who can't cut the
mustard in society. He can't even get in the front door. And
somebody----probably someone who doesn't deserve it---is going to
pay.
“And now I've got a big surprise
for you/
Bullet with your name on it!
Can I co-exist with you/Can you
co-exist with me
Can you even pass my test?/ Not as
far as I can see!”
I think that we wrote a whole slew of songs along the lines of
this theme---”Time Bomb” was the big winner.
We got through it pretty quickly.
We'd hit our stride.
NEXT:
THE
FEEL-GOOD MEDLEY CONTINUES
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