To some he is the leader of Masters of Reality, a band that has existed in many forms since 1981. To others he is a producer, known for his work with Ian Astbury, Auf Der Maur, The Duke Spirit, The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster, Fatso Jetson, The Flys, Mark Lanegan, UNKLE, Kyuss and Queens of the Stone Age. In fact, his long- time association with the last two artists, and his contributions to Josh Homme's Desert Sessions, led to his living out in Joshua Tree and working on many records at Rancho De La Luna — and to Chris and Josh joining up as the production team, The Fififf Teeners.
You started off playing in Syracuse, New York, with Masters of Reality. Were you doing production on your early records?
I would say early demos, experimenting. We were bouncing cassettes from one cassette player to another in the early '80s and later had a 4-track cassette player. When you're a fan of both Led Zeppelin and The Beatles — the difference between those two styles of production, when you're growing up and you're hearing both of them, you're scratching your head like Scooby Doo. Like, "I love them both but they're so different. What is the modus operandi between those two styles?" The room air around Led Zeppelin versus the up-front, compressed, no air about The Beatles. Those two stand out as being the first lessons for me. There was also that '70s, really clean, California-style production like The Eagles. The drums are very muted and the drum room is very quiet — '70s pop music. That was another step of, "What are they doing?" As weird as it is, it's working. It doesn't have the energy or cut of The Beatles or the energy of the Led Zeppelin productions, but it still has some kind of quality to it that's worth looking into. Early Frank Zappa stuff, Mothers of Invention — his manipulation of tape speed, cutting tape and tape editing — I loved records that sounded like they were Scotch-taped together. Then I found out a lot of them were actually Scotch-taped together. On Yes records the long pieces were different takes from different days. I loved that. It proved that if you have good ears and a good spirit about what you're doing, that the sonics will take second place. There's a cut into this passage that has a totally different drum sound. As long as it's in time, right?
One thing about the Queens of the Stone Age's productions that you've done is the way you keep space for the vocals. You read press about them and they're like, "Oh, they're hard rock" and then you hear the records. The first thing that I thought when I heard a Queens' record was The Cars — a pop production in a way.
Sure, yeah. Pop music. It's pop because we want people to like it. At the same time you want to offend them — you know what I mean? Now more than ever, especially in the last ten years, CNN is our competition as much as Korn right now. Sonic fuckin', annoying stuff from every angle that you get from media right now — that's our competition. Now that you've got The Ramones and Iggy and the Stooges on car commercials, what's going to turn someone's head towards the speaker when they hear something these days? It has to be a mutation that's never been heard before or hasn't been heard in a long time. Either invent something new or steal something old — or put the two together. We're really, really in strange places in sonics right now. The generation like mine — I'm in my late 40s — we were raised on wooden Led Zeppelin-style home stereos. Now everything is in plastic speakers or in headphones — a lot of high end. Everyone's brain has been fried now with their iPods and it's a whole new sonic philosophy happening.
Do you think that part of it is trying to subvert the playback systems — to try to make something sound different?
It's a matter of taking a Patsy Cline record — something that sounds perfect the way it was recorded in 1961 — and putting it next to some horrid, fucking over- compressed, emo-thing that's just annoying and let someone decide what sounds better. I think almost everyone is going to point to the Patsy Cline — even though it's an older woman who's dead singing rather some schmuck. It's like the worst of times and the best of times. Kids are ready — their ears have been so assaulted that right now is a good time to lay the shit out again because they might go, "Whoa, what's that?" That's why most kids I know love Led Zeppelin and The Beatles so much.
My girlfriend seems to really pick up on Josh's words on the Queens' stuff — what's going on in the song and the humor. Humor in music was killed by indie rock or something along the way.
It's true. Everyone is going for this weird angst in the lyrics. The radio is un-listenable right now. I don't know what a single is. If the singles on the radio are singles then I truly don't know what a single is anymore, because they don't sound like singles to me at all.
When you're producing a record and it's on a major label is there any interaction that you're having with A&R where they're talking about singles? Is there a tightrope to walk there?
Luckily, I'm in a position that the caliber of people that I'm working with is respected by the label, so the label gives them some space. It's not just some follow up to a triple platinum debut by some MTV reality show girl or something like that. Unless the girl wrote great songs, I wouldn't even do it. It's about the songs. So, a little bit, but for the most part, look where we record. We're not in the middle of Hollywood, so if by chance an A&R guy does come up to Joshua Tree, he's so overwhelmed by this space that he would most likely just kind of sit there and shut up.
But the last Queens record was done in L.A. right? You're a little closer to the epicenter there.
Mark Williams at Universal [A&R] is a sweetheart, though. Mark's one of the few men of taste left in the business. That band, and a lot of the bands I'm working on, have the philosophy of "keep them expecting the unexpected" and that gives you license to change. I think Queens' fans like to be surprised by some left turn that they didn't see coming. Like, "What the fuck is that?" That's what the band was founded on.
There's never even been a stable line up. Say you're in a real expensive room with polished wood floors and a full staff and catering — do you think that lends a certain element where people feel like they have to audition twelve snare drums for a week?
It depends on who you're working with. If there are dorks amongst us then there we go. If a group of musicians are excited to be there and the person who is going to record that feels it too, then usually it's going to go [well] — no matter where you are. The sushi is nice, fine, whatever, but there are fewer interruptions out here and you don't feel uptight.
Plus there are a lot of fun instruments out here.
Half the fuckin' instruments are from thrift stores. I collect organs from thrift stores when the right Lowery or Thomas comes along. I just scored a Thomas organ with a Minimoog built into it. It has the Moog emblem on it and everything. It was like, "Thomas, featuring the Moog!" Fifty bucks and it's in mint condition!
It works?
It works. Fuckin' amazing. The low end on the Moog will fuckin' shatter the windows on your house, [plus there's] a built-in Leslie on the thing. The Leslie works. It's probably from the early '70s and in mint condition — not even a scratch on the wood.
Is there a second keyboard?
There's a two-tier keyboard and the top tier is either the lead keyboard or the Moog. You can switch them off or you can have both of them on at the same time. So, you can have those chimes with a Minimoog, with a glide underneath it at the same time plus the third accompanying chimes, too. It's actually three stacks of sounds and the foot pedals. The drum machine, like the samba and rock 1, rock 2 — you can coordinate with that with the foot pedals too. I put my foot down on one of the pedals and it goes, [sings a rhythm track] — like an instant Genesis song or something. It's great. Every fifty- dollar keyboard you get up here is like fifty songs just by accident — just by turning the thing on.
Dave and I were talking about The Desert Sessions earlier. Has that turned a lot of people on to this area and the idea of Rancho while also giving the Queens impetus to experiment a little more?
Yeah, sure. It's all completely tied together. This style of recording is my preference. To make stuff quickly — throw the shit down. That's why working with Jeordie [White, a.k.a. Twiggy Ramirez of Marilyn Manson] with Goon Moon — when one of us is doing a track, the other guy is writing the part to counteract what the [first] guy is doing, so by the time I'm done singing Jeordie has something ready to follow it. It's like ping pong.
With the Masters of Reality albums, who are some great engineers and producers you have worked with along the way?
Some really, really excellent ones: Martin Schmelzle — he also did a lot of work for Rick Rubin and George Drakoulias — Brian Jenkins, Joe Barresi, David Bianco [Tape Op #104], Jim Scott [#75] — amazing engineers over the years. Now Edmund Monsef — pretty much for the last couple of years he's been there for everything. This guy allows us to do what we do. We change course really quickly so if you want to know the modus operandi of how he captures the sounds, that's the man to talk to. I know if at the end of the day I like what comes out of the speakers I'm happy and I know we're on the right direction. And Alain Johannes [engineer on QOTSA's Era Vulgaris].
That new record is really fun to listen to. Maybe we should sit down with Alain and pick his brain.
You should. I want to see him behind his guitar. He plays like a motherfucker. He plays like Django [Reinhardt] meets [John] McLaughlin. We love Alain. Are you familiar with the song, "I'm Here For Your Daughter" that's on one of The Desert Sessions [9 & 10]? That's Alain after about a bottle and a half of wine, going, "I've got this silly song. It's so funny. Check this out." All of us were like, "That's your silly song? Wow." That's something I could never play if I spent ten years trying.
When you're producing a record, are you hands-on at all — engineering nuts and bolts?
I don't touch the knobs.
Listening to the last Queens' record, there's a lot of distorted snare drum and certain things. Where are those sonics coming from? Was there a straight drum sound and you said, "Let's do something to fuck this up?" Does it come from the band or the engineers?
[It comes from] everyone involved. Hearing an accident and going, "Fuck, it sounds great".
Like the wrong mic?
Yeah, the wrong mic' that we didn't know was turned on — that kind of thing. So I would come in like a supporter of it and say, "Go with it." I would try to encourage that kind of stuff. A "personality" snare sound can be such a cool thing — a historic thing for a song. Like early '80s dance music had a lot of those "personality" snare sounds — say like on a Cure song — that could make or break a song. It's like they just stumbled onto something so cool, so roomy — it would have a cool tail — probably something that sounds cliché by now, twenty-five years later.
Yeah, because someone sampled it after that.
There are still new ones that haven't been used yet — specifically the sound that Alain [Johannes] and Josh [Homme] came up with for the snare drum on "I'm Designer" [on Era Vulgaris]. That snare is one of the best snares I've heard in years.
It adds a level of fun. I think everyone has to be open to that. Sometimes your job as a producer is to make sure that door stays open.
That's my only job. Really. It's to make it as fun as possible.
The record?
Yeah.
What about the event itself, too, the tracking?
That too. It's like a workout, playing charades or juggling. Finding six people to juggle with — if you jive with them, you're all juggling together.
