HALLO-O-O-O!
Is there anybody out there?
That’s
what the title is all about. Everybody needs an “echo,” some affirmation,
to know they’re not alone.
Sometimes
that can be life’s most precious discovery - somebody out there who feels
the way you do. You ask yourself “Am I crazy?”, “Am I weird?”, and you
need some affirmation: the echo. While the answer to those questions may
still be “Yes!,” it’s good to know that you’re not the only one. You are
not alone...
And
we’re not either. During the making of this record, my partners Geddy and
Alex posted some goofy “Inspirational Slogans” on the walls of the studio.
Like this one:
INDIVIDUALLY,
WE ARE A ASS;
BUT
TOGETHER, WE ARE A GENIUS
Like
most Inspirational Slogans, it’s hyperbolic (and goofy), but expresses
a humble truth. Another previous discovery to make in life: we do our best
work together. And have the most fun too. (That’s the “genius” part.)
We had taken a long break from being “a genius together.”
After
the “COUNTERPARTS” tour ended in May of ‘94, we took almost a year-and-a-half
away from the band, and during that time Geddy and his wife produced a
baby girl, Alex (as “VICTOR”) produced a solo album, and I produced a tribute
to the big-band music of Buddy Rich. We worked; we traveled; we lived our
lives; and it was fine.
All
of those activities kept us off the streets and out of trouble until October
of ‘95, when we assembled at Chalet Studio, a country retreat just outside
Toronto. From my little writing-room at one end of the house, I looked
out over the fields and autumn-tinged treetops all the way down to Lake
Ontario. With this pleasant backdrop to my computer screen, I began sending
a stream of lyrics to the small studio at the other end of the house, where
Geddy and Alex hunched over guitars and computers.
In
past writing sessions, the two of them often “built” the songs as they
went, matching verses and choruses and roughing out the arrangement on
a demo tape. At that point we would all listen to the song, and discuss
what was good and what might be improved, both musically and lyrically.
So much comes clear in that unforgiving form (guitars, vocals, and drum
machine) and for me, with my lyricist-hat on, the first time I hear the
words sung is a revelation. Unsuspected nuances - and flaws - and
thrown into sharp relief.
But
this time they chose another method: as the musical ideas emerged, they
would go through the lyrics and try to match up a verse or a chorus, record
that fragment, then move on to something else. They didn’t want to get
bogged down in the “jigsaw puzzle” of assembling whole songs, but rather
keep the momentum going with a flow of fresh ideas. Fair enough, of course
- whatever works! - but this reporter was growing a little anxious when
a couple of weeks went by and he still hadn’t heard anything.
However,
I continued “feeding the machine” with more lyrics, and when I need a “left-brain
break,” I could go have a bash on the small practice kit in the hall outside
my room. During our hiatus, instead of getting away from drumming, it had
actually assumed a new importance in my life - after thirty years of playing
the “traps” (for “contraption”), I was able to step away from performing
and really explore drumming, and it became a revelation to me.
So,
as the days went by I was doubly eager to hear something new. The
left brain wanted to know if any of the words were working out, and when
I switched hemispheres and practiced my drumming, the right brain wanted
some songs to work on. Finally the day came when Geddy and Alex were ready
to play me some completed music, and called me into the studio. All a little
nervous, we glanced around the Larxst Sound console and played the tape.
Nothing
to be nervous about - I loved what I heard. Wearing my lyricist-hat, it
was gratifying to hear those endlessly fussed-over words come alive in
song, and wearing my drummer-hat, it was inspiring to hear so many musical
directions to explore, and all the possibilities for rhythmic fun and games.
This was going to be good. Now we began the process of refining the arrangements
and developing our individual parts. And now it began to snow - in Biblical
proportions. An early blizzard struck on the first of November.
Arctic
winds swirling in a deep blanket of snow over the woods and pastures, and
that seemed to be the weather forecast until the record was finished -
six months later. No coincidence that the Arctic theme pervades our cover
art, for it certainly pervaded our working environment. By early December
the songs were nearly all written, arranged, and recorded (to varying degrees
of refinement), and we were joined by Peter Collins (with his snowboots).
In
previous years, Peter had been our co-producer on “POWER WINDOWS,” “HOLD
YOUR FIRE,” and “COUNTERPARTS,” and once again he came through for us,
suggesting many small-but-critical improvements to the arrangements and
our individual parts. Perhaps Peter’s greatest contribution is his instinct
for pointing us in directions we would never have imagined.
As
the process continued, Peter kept his ears on the “overview” of the songs
and performances, and let the three of us, and recording engineer Clif
Norrell (Faith No More, R.E.M., Catherine Wheel, etc.) worry over the “inside”
stuff - the nuts-and-bolts of equalization, relative balances, and mathematical
precision, Clif’s experienced and sensitive ears helped to translate the
sounds we imagined into the sounds we heard (no small feat!).
At
the beginning of January we started recording at Bearsville Studios, in
the Catskill Mountains of New York State, and naturally we arrived there
on the very day of the “Blizzard Of ‘96.” Back in Toronto, we moved into
the cozy little world of Reaction Studio, and still the snow kept falling
(for forty days and forty nights). By April, Spring ought to have been
sniffing around, but the flurries continued as we moved into McClear Place,
ready for the final mix.
Different
people have different reactions to this crucial time. For myself, an impatient
sort who likes quick gratification, I call it “The End Of Waiting”; while
Geddy, still harboring visions of sudden perfection and miraculous transformation,
refers to mixing as “The Death Of Hope.” For Alex, there are more important
concerns:
Inventions.
Dinner. Louder guitars. Mixing engineer Andy Wallace (Nirvana, Rage Against
The Machine, Faith No More, etc.) came on board at this point (with his
snowboots), all fresh and untainted by the recording process.
Working
quickly and intuitively, Andy was able to take all of that music we’d lived
with for so long and weave it into new and unexpected patterns. When we
heard his mix of a song for the first time, invariably we’d say something
like, “Wow - I never thought of it like that before!” Which is exactly
why you bring in a mixing engineer. And that’s our little story: We took
a long break. We made a record. It snowed a lot.
Oh,
there’s more - a whole cinematic “back-story,” some of which can perhaps
be read between these lines: All the years leading up to where we are today,
the eager determination we brought to this project, the dedicated time
and effort that went into making it (and not just when it was snowing,
either - two summers went into it as surely as did two winters. Or twenty
years. Or thirty years).
And,
of course, there are all the songs too, and what’s “between the lines”
in them. How the lyrics to “Test For Echo “ (a collaboration between this
reporter and Pye Dubois, like “Tom Sawyer,” “Force Ten,” and “Between Sun
And Moon” before it) give a video-view of this wacky world of ours, and
offer this tacit response: “Excuse me - does anybody else think this weird?”
HALLO-O-O-O-O! Test... for... echo... Is anybody out there?
“Virtuality”
takes a similarly ironic view of modern life - after all, what the heck
is a “virtual song?” And who would want to dance to it? Same in “Resist,”
with the adaptation of the Oscar Wilde quote:
“I
can resist anything except temptation.” Well, really, - what else is there
to resist?Like the way I resist the temptation to talk about the music
itself, just out of “group modesty” (although a great baseball philosopher
once said, “It ain’t braggin’ if you actually done it!”).
I probably
shouldn’t even mention all the fine guitar solos and vocal performances,
and how my colleagues shine on songs like “Totem,” “Resist,” “Time And
Motion,” “The Color Of Right” - hell, all of them. “Individually, we are
a ass...” Yes, that part’s true enough, but still - after so many years
of apprenticeship, I believe we’re finally starting to get somewhere. Together.
Whenever
we get there, and wherever there is, I sure hope we’ll look out from that
stage and find an audience waiting. Otherwise it will be like Gertrude
Stein’s comment on a certain midwestern city:
“We
went there - but there was no there there.”
HALLO-O-O-O-O!
Test... for... echo... Is anybody out there?
A
great Quick History of Rush Can be found by Clicking Here!
