We haven’t yet announced an official CD release party, but we do have a few shows coming up in the month of July, including a last-minute duo gig at The Green Room (part of Showbox at the Market):
I’ve also compiled all of the “Track by Track” posts into a single digest. It’s over on my blog, which I’ve neglected for months. Happy 4th to those in the U.S.–go grill yerself something. Many things will be going “boom” over the weekend, but please: don’t blow your nuts or digits off.
I have some good news and ONLY good news: The Gospel Of Rust is finally available on CD Baby.com! And, for a limited time, your order will net you a signed copy of the CD, autographed by the band. Check it:
I’ve had to drag myself back into the world of press releases and promotion. Elbow deep in hyperbole and sales-speak is not my favorite way to spend untold hours, but the hope is to push this one farther along than TheChroma Session EP. It’s been a long journey to get our debut album out as a CD (one full year after we finished it, fer’ cripe’s sake), especially to release music that I’m proud of at a time when it’s hard to tell if anybody’s listening at all. Throughout the process, I’ve learned a lot, taken a few mental punches, and battled career fatigue just to get the album to this point, and we have NO INTENTION of taking this long with the next release (though I can’t see recording another full-length album anytime soon). As always, your help and support over the years is deeply appreciated. Thank you kindly!
I’ve always loved the “earthy blues in the heavenly ether” production on Chris Whitley’s Living With The Law album. Weeds Grow Around was our attempt at a song that was equal parts Wrecking Ball (Emmy Lou Harris) and Living With The Law–with a dash of Radiohead.
Aside from Lincoln’s spacey guitar and Sam’s dream-time Wurlizer piano, this song has a lot to do with percussion. Besides the percussive qualities of acoustic bass and resonator slide guitar, Brad draped a Weezer t-shirt over Brian’s snare drum to achieve that tight, muffled slap effect. There’s also the sound of six different shakers, shaking live in the Two Sticks drum room–a Shaker Choir, maybe?
Sam created a great string arrangement for the end of the song and after the intense ride ride that proceeded Weeds Grow Around, the strings were a way to ease you out of the 12 Songs Of The Apocalypse. (The swoop up at the finale is either a cruel twist or a question mark after THE END.)
And speaking of…that brings us to the end. Thank you for reading and listening.
I wrote I Am The Rust before I met Brian & Sam but I can’t imagine how this song could ever work without them. It’s become a staple of our live shows and it never stops being fun to play. If you have seen us live, though, you’ll notice we left off the “Rock Concert Ending” (cue the flashpots!); in the context of the album, it didn’t make any sense.
During the recording process, we had been listening to David Lee Roth’s awesome/hilarious isolated vocal track from “Runnin’ With The Devil”; I tried to conjure up a touch o’ Dave for my vocals. A couple of wild obscenities and hollers were cut in the final mix (even though Brad tried to convince me otherwise); in our age of the technology, I’m sure this mix will surface as all things do.
“I Am The Rust” and “Weeds Grow Around” were at odds when played back-to-back, so a breath was needed in between. That’s how Lost Transmissions came to be.
Sam played a reprise of his Mellotron line from “I Am The Rust” followed by the outro of “Weeds Grow Around” played on a Melodica. The two themes segue like time has elapsed. Additionally, Brad took an unused portion of Lincoln’s guitar feedback on “Weeds” and reversed it, placing it under the Melodica until it builds to a crescendo.
Okay, so nobody’s perfect. It seems I was inaccurate in my post last week about how Sam Collins managed that freaky bass sound on “Golgotha Drone.” This was in my inbox over the weekend:
Dear Sir,
In your recently published “Track by Track” post for Golgotha Drone, you referred to the process used by the bass player to produce high harmonics. You incorrectly (and innocently, I’m sure) identified the source of the sound as “moving [one’s] fingers up and down the string.” The correct source of the sound was bowing close to the bridge on an open D-string. The Double Bass is a strange and profound instrument, capable of producing myriad sounds through a variety of methods, so it is difficult to correctly identify playing methods simply by listening.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
H. Phatherbatham, E.S.D., PhD
This man is a PhD for cryin’ out loud; clearly he knows what he’s talking about.
We’re in the home-stretch with Let The Wind Know, a fatalistic lament for a lost world. Great string arrangement by Sam (who also played bowed bass), featuring Barb Hunter (cello) and Melissa Montalto (violin). Brad Zeffren (producer/engineer) joined me for the choral vocals on the bridge.
Both “Let The Wind Know” and “Lake of Fire” use an open C tuning that I copped from the Led Zeppelin song “Friends” (damn, I love that tuning). The tone of this song was so emotionally resigned that only a barn burner like “I Am The Rust” could make a counterpoint; we’ll get to that one next (plus a bonus track).
Lake Of Fire is was partly inspired by the R.L. Burnside/Jon Spencer Blues Explosion collaboration ‘A Ass Pocket Of Whiskey’ and the Charles Manson’s Live At San Quentin album–so it was destined to be odd. Skewing it even further down the weirdo hole, Lincoln’s crazed licks sound like something Zoot Horn Rollo would have played on a Captain Beefheart album (with a nod to “Soul Man”).
During recording, we often referred to Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategy cards; for this song, we drew “Make It Dirty.” Since the interpretation of the card is completely open, it led to a three man “instrument” I dubbed the Eno-Tron: Sam playing a Mellotron vibraphone sound run through a Chorus Echo (that I was knob-twiddling to the point of feedback), while Brad ran the board faders to keep the signal from distorting. Surprisingly subtle, it adds an almost dreamy twist to the latter “La Dee Da Da” sections and outro.
As the release of our album looms, we’re taking a short break from the stage. Don’t worry, we’ll be back in action in July with a back-to-back West Seattle/Renton throw-down (7/16 and 7/17) at The Skylark and Main St. Saloon. Sadly, the GreenNote Festival show is no more, so our all-acoustic set will have to wait.
Oh, and please ignore the Myspace calendar–there appears to be no way to delete dates or make changes, so we’re going with the ReverbNation calendar. Myspace Tom is a harsh mistress it seems (if he even works there anymore).
Golgotha Drone may be the unholy love-child of Cormac McCarthy and Glen Danzig. I was re-reading McCarthy’s ‘Blood Meridian’ during the lyric writing process, but the heavy, doomy vibe can be traced back to my metal-lovin’ youth.
Sam is playing bowed bass on this track, which sounds a lot like a synth when he’s bowing those string harmonics (by sliding his finger up and down the string). This track marks my first recorded attempt at Tuvan throat-singing and Brian sings that creepy, basso profundo backing vocal. Ed Brooks (mastering engineer) has also predicted that a Norwegian Black Metal band will one day cover this song.
The Sharpshooter never clicked until it was combined with an unfinished song called “Burning Hills Bridge.” It starts with a slow version of the bridge from “All You Shadows” (which–ta DA!–featured the line “along these burning hills”) plus a few other references to its sister-song throughout. Overall, there’s a late-night jazz vibe with a heavy dose of Twin Peaks.
The song was supposedly finished until I started thinking a female voice to counter my own would take it to an even better place. Not long after, I caught a solo set by Mia Boyle; her voice had a perfect PJ Harvey-meets-Chrissie Hynde vibe that triggered the low-watt light bulb above my head. I introduced myself after her set and recording magic commenced!
...are Seattle’s purveyors of apocalyptic Americana, hitching the rusted scraps of American roots music to a battered pick-up truck and dragging it across a broken 21st Century landscape. It’s a cinematic trip down a desolate highway as the dashboard rattles apart and the truck radio blasts songs of murder, drug abuse, and Biblical arcana. Learn more.
