EEUU prefiere a Nickelback antes que al Congreso
U.S.A likes Nickelback more than Congress
Sacado de // From: http://consequenceofsound.net
Hoy, la CNBC transmitió los resultados de una encuesta realizada por Public Policy Polling preguntando a los estadounidenses que les gusta más: el Congreso de los Estados Unidos o Nickelback. ¿Tal vez ahora podemos lograr que el gobierno vuelva a abrir?
En noticias relacionadas, el público estadounidense estará encantado de saber que Nickelback van a sacar un álbum de grandes éxitos, The Best of Nickelback Volume 1, el 19 de noviembre. El público estadounidense también estará feliz de saber que Nickelback aparentemente tienen suficientes grandes éxitos para justificar un segundo volumen.
IN ENGLISH
Today, CNBC aired the results of a survey conducted by Public Policy Polling asking Americans which they like better: the United States Congress or Nickleback. Maybe now we can get the government re-opened?
In related news, the American public will be happy to know that Nickleback is releasing a greatest hits album, The Best of Nickleback Volume 1, on November 19th. The American public will also be happy to know Nickleback apparently has enough greatest hits to warrant a second volume.
Jerry Cantrell adora los cuernos y la música alta, Twitter no tanto
Jerry Cantrell of Alice in Chains Loves Horns and High Volumes, Twitter Not So Much
Sacado de // From: http://portalternativo.com and http://noisey.vice.com/
Jerry Cantrell, guitarrista de Alice In Chains, ha conversado con la gente de Noisey sobre diversos temas relacionados con la banda, como por ejemplo la no inclusión de “Fear The Voices” en un álbum, tema que acabó apareciendo en la caja “Music Bank”.
Era un descarte. Esa canción era algo que monté… No llegó al nivel, eso es lo que pasó. Así que nunca se supuso que fuese a entrar en un álbum pero terminó en la caja. Supongo que es material de fondo interesante. Con la excepción de los dos últimos discos que hicimos (con Layne Staley), la mayoría de veces no había material extra.
Del título de su último disco, “The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here”:
Es un título en plan ‘qué-cojones’. Es único. Busqué por ahí, nadie había titulado un álbum así. Hay un par de otros títulos que consideramos pero ya se habían usado en varias formas. Algunas críticas decían que el disco es directamente “anti-políticos”, “religión esto”. ¡Es solo una canción! No es anti nada. Lo único “anti” que hay es supongo “anti-estupidez”. Anti-intolerancia. Anti forzarle las ideologías los unos a los otros. Hay temas con los que hemos estado luchando y matándonos y haciendo guerras durante cinco mil años. Y aún no nos hemos dado cuenta de que está bien que creas lo que quieras pero también todo el mundo tiene derecho de creer lo que quiera creer. Y porqué alguien no suscriba lo que quieres creer, no hace que esté equivocado, no te da ti más la razón. No les da el derecho a forzar las creencias en alguien, legislar en su contra, legislar lo que alguien puede hacer con su propio cuerpo. Como mujeres o el rol de la mujer en la iglesia. Que está bien forzarle a alguien la ignorancia y la intolerancia.
Preguntado si tiene algo que ver con la formación actual de la banda, siendo William DuVall afroamericano, afirma:
No se dirige a eso especialmente; no es específicamente sobre eso, no. Pero hemos tenido un puñado de gente, un puñado de desafortunados individuos amigos de la banda que han hecho comentarios en ese sentido. Pero somos una banda multiracial, ¿sabes? (Mike) Inez es filipino-americano, William es afroamericano, Sean (Kinney) y yo somos chuchos americanos. No estamos exentos del mundo en el que vivimos, y eso son algunas cosas con las que William y Mike han lidiado más que Sean y yo.
Y preguntado por si tienen intención de hacer un EP al estilo “Sap” o “Jar Of Flies”, asegura:
Es algo que hemos hecho en el pasado y, por supuesto, ¿quien sabe lo que haremos en el futuro? Los últimos años creo que hemos llegado todos a la conclusión de que la mejor receta es la del momento y lidiar con lo que estás lidiando en el momento. No diré que nunca hagamos uno pero creo que en los últimos dos discos hemos metido elementos de esos dos EPs, con guitarras acústicas que se mezclan con los elementos más heavys. Quizá este más que el anterior pero hay algunos momentos realmente bonitos en “Black Gives Way To Blue”, “When the Sun Rose Again”, “Your Decision”, en el último disco. Este disco quizá tiene un par de canciones en ese rollo de la banda. Este es más una mezcla equilibrada entre esa cara de la banda, los EPS y el Unplugged, pero también el material más heavy.
Cantrell se reconoce ajeno al movimiento de las redes sociales:
Me la suda (risas) No quier ser parte de ello. Creo que a todos nos va mejor sabiendo que nadie va a meter el genio de vuelta a la botella así que me mantendré alejado de ello. No tengo cuenta en Facebook, no twitteo. A mi no me va. No diré que no le vaya a otra gente… Obviamente, mucha gente en el planeta está muy metida en ello así que eso solo es mi visión del tema. Pero creo que nos iría mucho mejor si se dejara algo de misterio de magia. Todo es tan instantáneo, no tienes que pagar por ello, no tienes que esperar o invertir nada para tenerlo… No es como hago yo las cosas así que supongo que es algo de lo que me mantengo alejado. Eso si, cada vez que haces un comentario al respecto acabas pareciendo un capullo.
IN ENGLISH
Noisey: Hey Jerry, nice to meet you.
Jerry Cantrell: What’s up dude?
Before I start asking you questions, I just wanted to let you know this story: when I was a kid I was in a CD store that had those stations where you could listen before you buy, and I picked up Dirt. I didn’t realize the player was on all the way at top volume…
[laughs]
So the first thing I ever heard from the band was like, “Them Bones” just being blasted—
“Them Bones” at stun volume. [laughs] That’s how it should be heard for the first time.
It was an ideal first time. I almost fell out of the chair.
Oh, cool.
That pretty much sealed Alice in Chains being one of my favorite bands. You have a unique playing style and—I’m probably going to ask some nerdy musical questions—
Go ahead!
You have a unique playing style, and some of the stuff you’ve done like “Fear the Voices” and [Cantrell’s solo single] “Cut You In,” the guitar sounds like horns. It’s hard to tell if there’s actual horns on the song; I think there are, but even the guitar sounds like that.
Yeah, actually on those two songs you mentioned, I think there are horns on those songs. Had a lot of players on that solo album [Boggy Depot] Les Claypool plays on a couple tracks, Mike Inez. It’s cool that you mentioned that, and there are some horns in there. But a lot of the guitar lines I write I’ll hear, ‘that’s like a sax playing,’ or I’ll hear like a horn section or something like that. I’ve heard a lot of guitar players talk about guitar lines and melody lines in that way. It’s not something I do intentionally, but I definitely notice after the fact that it’s very conducive to a horn playing those lines.
Stuff like that really stands out to me about the band; people harp on how many bands copied the vocal style of Alice in Chains, but there are so many elements that no one’s even trying to copy about you guys.
Hahaha, yeah. there’s a whole lot left there to rip off.
By the way, why was “Fear the Voices” (circa-1992 unreleased track until the Music Bank box set) never released on an album?
OK, I know what song you’re talking about now, I was answering about “Cut You In” on my solo record, but “Voices” was an outtake. That particular song—there isn’t any horns on that by the way—was something I put together…it didn’t make the grade, that’s just what it was. So it was never really intended to make an album, but it ended up on the box set. Some interesting background material I guess. With the exception of the last two records that we made [with Layne Staley, “Get Born Again” and “Died”], most of the time there wasn’t any extra material.
So the new album (The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here), in a weird way, seems like the most positive, optimistic album you’ve ever made.
It’s funny, I’ve heard people take it both ways. There’s a camp that sees it as a very dark record, and there’s a camp that sees it as a very “up” record. I guess sonically it reaches a little further back to classic rock and there’s some pop elements, and metal as well. All those elements reach a little further back in time. Lyrically…[laughs] it’s as harsh as any record we’ve done. Lyrically it’s pretty dark. Sonically it could be taken to be a more “up” record. But I think that’s always been the trick with this band, even if the music is kind of soothing or sparse, the lyrics always bring things back to reality. I’ve said this a few times about our music, but it’s like saying something horrible in the most beautiful way.
I think that’s a lot of music! But also, most past Alice has been referred to as very “personal,” while songs like “Voices” and “The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here” seem like you’re more overtly talking to an audience.
You know, we were aware we were gonna have this conversation a lot by calling the record that, but it certainly wasn’t our intention to start a dialogue about it. It’s just comments…we just wanted to go in about a subject that no one’s really written about before. I always write from a very personal point of view. Layne always did that too, but being an individual you’re a part of society. Maybe you’re writing from your viewpoint or somebody else’s viewpoint, but it’s a personal thing. But that song to me is more of a reflection, a mirror reflecting back what I see in that arena. We didn’t call our album that to have some big political, anti-religion manifesto. It’s just a take on a subject, reflecting it back, you know, some of the uglier elements of both of those arenas. When people say to me that we’ve started making social commentary, well, every song is a commentary. [laughs] There’s nothing different…our first big hit “Man in the Box” dealt with issues…
Oh yeah.
And got picketed for that “Jesus Christ, deny your maker” line. There’s also a song called “God Am” on the dog record, which deals with the subject matter too. “Voices,” in terms of songwriting, is very internal, it’s not external. It comes from a very personal place, but of course it can be applied to anything, from any place in society.
I figured you just picked “Devil” as the title tune so you could go “Yeah! We can put some dinosaurs on the cover now!”
It’s just a what-the-fuck title. It’s unique. I did some research on it, nobody had called an album that. There’s a couple other titles that were under consideration, but they’d already been used in various forms. But some of the reviews just said the record is flat-out “anti-politics,” “religion this.” It’s just one song! It’s not anti-anything. The only thing “anti-” it is is I guess anti-stupidity. Anti-bigotry. Anti-forcing ideologies on each other. These are subjects we’ve been battling and killing each other and fighting wars over with each other for fucking five thousand years now. And we haven’t figured it out yet, that it’s okay to believe what you want to believe, but everybody else has the right to believe what they want to believe too. And because someone else doesn’t subscribe to what you want to believe, doesn’t make them wrong, doesn’t make you any more right. It doesn’t give them the right to enforce a belief on somebody, legislate against them, legislate what someone can do what their own body. Like women, or women’s role in the church. That it’s okay to enforce ignorance and bigotry on somebody.
If I can jump out on a limb with it, I wanted to know if it was partly inspired by this lineup of the band, if anyone has made any racist comments or anything like that, which is a totally new thing that the band would be experiencing.
It didn’t specifically address it; it’s not specifically about that, no. But we’ve had a handful of people, a handful of unfortunate individuals who are friends of the band, who’ve made comments in that area. But we’re a multiracial band, you know? [Mike] Inez is Filipino-American, William is African-American, Sean and I are like American mutts. We’re not exempt from the world we live in, and those are some things that William and Mike have probably dealt with more than Sean and I.
Getting back to preaching, how do you feel about so many bands expressing themselves on Twitter and social media, which isn’t your style at all?
Yeah, I don’t give a fuck. [laughs] I don’t want any part of it. I think we all do a lot better to know there’s no putting the genie back in the bottle so I’ll just stay out of it. I don’t have a Facebook account, I don’t Tweet.
There’s something to be said for a band that solely wants to express themselves through the songs, because it’s just rarer and rarer for people to do that now.
It doesn’t work for me. I’m not gonna say it doesn’t work for someone else…obviously a lot of people on the planet are fucking involved with it so that’s just my particular take on it. But I think we’d be a lot better if there was a little bit of mystery and magic left in it. Everything’s so instant, you don’t have to pay for it, you don’t have to wait for it or invest anything in having it…it’s not the way I go about things I guess so it’s just something I stay out of. Every time you make a comment about it you end up looking like a prick though.
No, no, I know where you’re coming from. Do you think you’ll ever do another EP like Sap or Jar of Flies again that’s a departure from the harder-rocking albums?
It’s something that we’ve done in the past, and of course, who knows what we’re gonna do in the future? Over the last couple years I think we’ve all come to the conclusion that the best recipe is in the moment and to deal with what you’re dealing with now. I’d never say we’d never do one but I think the last two records we’ve put out have elements of both those EPs, with acoustic guitar kind of blended in with the heavier elements. Maybe this one more than the last one, but there’s some really nice moments on Black Gives Way to Blue…”When the Sun Rose Again,” “Your Decision,” on the last record. This record has maybe a couple more songs geared toward that vibe of the band. This one’s pretty much an equal mix toward that side of the band, the EPs and the Unplugged, but also the heavier stuff.
What aspect of the band do you think doesn’t get enough credit?
I don’t know! As time goes by, the story seems to kind of change a little bit. We’ve been around for a long time, and we were part of a very significant moment in music, not just in our hometown, but around the world in the late 80s and 90s when music took a turn. And it meant a lot to us even just to do it. As for where we didn’t get credit, I mean, we get a lot of credit. Some camps like to rewrite our history as if we didn’t exist, or that we didn’t come from the town that we came from somehow. I’ve seen a few things happen that way, that somehow we get bumped out of the story. At the end of the day, we’re not doing this for someone else’s interpretation of what our life was. I know how it went, I’m still living it, I’m still doing it, and I’m still adding to it. I’ll think about that shit when I’m sitting on the porch unable to do anything else. Maybe I’ll have had a little time to look back at it then But like I was saying earlier, it’s good to stay in the moment, think about the next few steps in front of you. I’ve been doing it more or less with my friends for the last 26 years and we’re still on the journey, still in the process.
Billy Corgan cantando una serenata a una reportera en su tetería, “Madame Zuzu”.
At Madame Zuzu’s tea shop, Billy Corgan sang a serenade to a TV reporter
Dave Grohl recuerda la última vez que vio con vida a Kurt Cobain
Q&A: Dave Grohl on Kurt’s Last Days and the Making of ‘In Utero’
Sacado de // From: http://portalternativo.com and http://www.rollingstone.com
Hace unos días, la Rolling Stone departió con Dave Grohl en sus estudios 606 sobre “In Utero”, el que supuso el último disco de Nirvana, aprovechando un receso en la grabación del nuevo trabajo de Foo Fighters.
Su relación con Kurt Cobain:
Cada banda en la que había estado hasta ese momento había sido una banda de amigos que o se juntó para hacer música o nos hicimos família estando de gira. Nirvana fue algo diferente. Vivir con Kurt era divertido. Se aislaba de muchas maneras, emocionalmente pero tenía una naturaleza genuinamente dulce. Nunca te hacía sentir incómodo de manera intencionada. Vivir con él en aquel apartamentito en Olympia, Washington, había una especie de vínculo pero muy diferente a su relación con Krist (Novoselic).
Yo veía a Krist y Kurt como almas gemelas. Ambos tenían una comprensión mutua sin necesidad de hablar tan bonita. Esos dos tíos, juntos, definieron totalmente la estética de Nirvana. Cada rareza, todas las cosas raras de Nirvana venían de Krist y Kurt. Creo que crecer en Aberdeen, sus experiencias juntos en esos años formativos, tuvo mucho que ver en eso.
Musicalmente, la química era simple. Todo lo que teníamos que hacer era ser nosotros mismos. Unirme a una banda sin haber conocido antes a la gente, solo quieres ser poderoso musicalmente. Hubo mucha veces en que me sentí como un completo extraño. Estaba acostumbrado a estar rodeado de gente que no conocía desde los 13 años. Luego estaba viviendo en la puta Olympia con alguien que no conocía. No había sol. Solo estaba la música.
Sobre la incapacidad de Cobain de disfrutar del éxito cosechado:
No sé de donde salía eso. Mucha gente no considera válido su trabajo por ser suyo. Lo puedo entender. Conozco a mucha gente que no estaría cómoda con cualquier cosa que viene con estar en una banda tan grande como Nirvana. Lo que no entiendo es no apreciar ese simple don de ser capaz de hacer música.
Cuando Nirvana se hizo popular fue una difícil transición. Estás en la escena punk underground con tus héroes Ian McKaye (Fugazi) y Calvin Johnson (Beat Happening). Deseas la aprobación de esa gente desesperadamanete porque te valida como músico: voy en serio.
Yo tuve suerte porque volví a Washington D.C. y todos mis héroes me dijeron que estaban orgullosos de que me hubiera convertido en una puta estrella del rock corporativo (risas) Me quité ese peso de los hombros, solo empezar. Nunca me preocupé por eso. Eso debió de tener algo que ver con la ansiedad de Kurt. Tenía miedo de que la gente de la escena no aprobara donde estaba.
Sobre aquel año 1992 en que el grupo dosificó giras y grabaciones:
Nos llamaba el Lollapalooza, “Tenéis que ser cabezas de cartel en Lollapalooza”. Fui a ver un concierto de U2 y los Pixies y empujado al camerino de Bono: “Tíos tenéis que venir de gira con nosotros”. Gun’s N’ Roses nos llamaba. Me quedé, “¿Qué cojones está pasando?” Fue bueno para nosotros no hacer tanta cosa. Pero era como coger una cerilla y ver como se quemaba hasta los dedos. Era solo cuestión de tiempo de que pasara algo.
Estábamos grabando un par de canciones, una para el single con Jesus Lizard y un cover de Wipers. Y Kurt dijo, “Oh, tengo esa nueva idea de canción”. Y tocó “Frances Farmer” (“Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle”). Fue como, “Oh, dios mío, tendremos otro disco”.
Ese día estaba en mi sótano. Me dijo, “Mira esto” y tocó el riff. También tocó “Very Ape”. Quizá la ensayamos un día. Normalmente cuando Nirvana hacía música no había mucha conversación. Queríamos que todo fuese auténtico. No queríamos hacer una composición forzada. Una canción como “Heart-Sheaped Box” – empezábamos improvisando. Kurt tocaba el riff y Krist se enchufaba con lo que (Kurt) estaba haciendo y yo tocaba junto a ellos. Nos metíamos en la dinámica, con el ruido tranquilidad, ruido tranquilidad. Mucho de ese rollo de tranquilidad-ruido venía de estas jams experimentales.
De los problemas con las drogas de Cobain:
Yo dejé las drogas cuando tenía 20 años. Nunca me metí heroína, nunca me metí pastillas. Me metí mucho ácido, fumé mucha hierba, me divertí mucho. En lo que a opiaceos, esa es otra escena. Por suerte, no estaba en esa escena. Eso no significa que no me importara.
Ya no estábamos en la furgoneta, en ese pequeño club. Podías notar una distancia emocional pero de un modo melancólico. Había veces en que podíamos estar sin hablar durante días pese a que estábamos de gira haciendo conciertos. Y entonces nos encontrábamos en el pasillo y decíamos, “Deberíamos pillar unas mini-bikes cuando volvamos a casa. Conozco un circuito detrás de mi casa”. O, “El sitio de los cortacéspedes tiene un circuito de karts. Vayamos ahi”. Había esos momentos de conexión emocional. Por supuesto que luego no íbamos (risas) Lo único que necesitabas era ese momento de validación: seguimos estando unos con otros.
No sé si durante la grabación de “In Utero” se estaba metiendo algo. Aquello fue raro. Estábamos secuestrados en una casa, en medio de la nieve, en febrero, en Minnesota. Grabar con Steve (Albini) – le daba a ‘grabar’, hacíamos la toma y (aplaude), “Vale, ¿qué viene ahora?” Espera, ¿está bien?
Trabajar con Butch Vig en “Nevermind” fue otro ejercicio. Hicimos que ese álbum fuese el álbum. Estábamos alucinados. Pasábamos muchísimo tiempo en el local de ensayo. Estábamos lo suficientemente liberados y controlados como necesitábamos estar.
Pasamos como un rayo por “In Utero”. Estaba hecho tras tres días. Me sobraron diez putos días para sentarme en la nieve, sin nada que hacer. Una vez terminamos con toda la instrumentación era hora de que Kurt hiciera sus voces y repeticiones.
Recuerdo que todo el mundo estaba preocupado por el tempo de “Heart-Shaped Box” pero los metrónomos no molaban. A Kurt y a Steve se les ocurrió esta idea: debíamos usar una luz estroboscópica (risas) Tuvimos una larga conversación sobre como no iba a dictar el tempo, solo sugerirlo.
Les dije, “Vale, chicos, lo que queráis”. Estuve ahí con esa puta luz en la cara durante una o dos tomas hasta que prácticamente tuve un ataque. Les dije, “¿Podemos simplemente tocar? Un pequeño mareo. No os preocupéis”.
Del que fue su primer tema compuesto para Nirvana, “Marigold”:
La compuse en la máquina cuatro pistas de casa. Él estaba en su habitación. No quería despertarle así que grababa cosas, susurrando al micrófono. Estaba grabando la armonía vocal al estribillo de esa canción y se abrió la puerta. Me dice, “¿Qué es eso?” “Nada, una cosa que compuse”. “Déjame oírla”.
Nos sentamos y la tocamos unas pocas veces. Yo hacía la armonía aguda, él la grave. Es divertido componer canciones con otra gente. Nunca he hecho eso. Yo compongo canciones (Foo Fighters) y la banda las toca conmigo. Pero sentarme cara a cara con alguien, eso es otro rollo. No sé si había llegado a hacer eso. Era como una incómoda cita a ciegas. “Oh, ¿también cantas? Armonicemos juntos”. Por aquel entonces también era timidín.
Me halagó mucho pero recuerdo que fue Steve quien dijo, “‘Marigold’ debería estar en el álbum”. Yo estaba aterrorizado (risas) No, no, espera. Era aquel famoso chiste: “¿Qué es lo último que dice el batería antes de que le echen de la banda? Hey, he compuesto una canción”.
Obviamente, no entró (en el disco, fue una cara B de “Heart-Shaped Box”). Estoy contento porque el álbum mantuvo la integridad de la visión de Kurt. Pero estaba tremendamente halagado. “¿De verdad que te gusta?”
De la última vez que vio a Cobain:
Llamé a Kurt tras lo de Roma (en marzo de 1994, durante una gira europea, Cobain tuvo una sobredosis en un hotel de Roma. Nirvana regresaron a Seattle donde Cobain murió un mes después). Le dije, “Hey tío, eso ha asustado a todo el mundo. No quiero que te mueras”.
Entonces le vi en las oficinas de nuestro contable (en Seattle). Él se iba cuando yo llegué. Me sonrió y me dijo, “Hey, ¿qué tal?” Y le dije, “Te llamaré, ¿vale?” Y me dijo, “Vale”.
Sobre como “In Utero” es una especie de testamento:
El álbum debería ser escuchado como fue el día que salió. Ese es mi problema con el disco. Solía gustarme escucharlo. Y ya no lo hago por eso. Para mi, si lo escuchas sin pensar en la muerte de Kurt, quizá cojas la intención original del disco. Como mis hijos. Saben que estuve en Nirvana. Saben que Kurt murió. No les he dicho que se mató. Tienen cuatro y siete años. Así que cuando escuchen “In Utero” tienen esa perspectiva fresca – la intención original del álbum, la del oyente principiante.
Algún día sabrán lo que pasó. Y cambiará eso. A mi me lo cambió.
IN ENGLISH
It is a recent morning at 606, Grohl’s recording studio in Los Angeles’ San Fernando Valley. Downstairs, in the control room, producer Butch Vig and members of Grohl’s long-running band Foo Fighters are arriving for work: pre-production for the followup to that group’s next album. Upstairs, in the lounge, Grohl marks the 20th anniversary of In Utero – released in September, 1993 and reissued this month in a deluxe edition with rare demo and live tracks and a new remix – with one of his longest, deepest interviews on the final days of Nirvana and their star-crossed leader, singer-guitarist-songwriter Kurt Cobain.
Grohl and Nirvana bassist Krist Novoselic both spoke at length about In Utero and its tragic climax – Cobain’s death from a self-inflicted shotgun wound in April, 1994 – for a feature story in the new issue of Rolling Stone. The drummer was especially vivid and detailed in his memories of In Utero and the foreboding loaded in Cobain’s songs. What follows are additional excerpts from our conversation, after which Grohl gave me a tour of 606, including a hallway he has dedicated to Nirvana, lined with vintage tour posters and gold-and-platinum awards from around the world.
You joined Nirvana just in time to play on Nevermind. Did you have time to develop a bond with Kurt?
Every band I had ever been in, up until that point, had been a band of friends that either got together to make music or we all became a close family out on the road. Nirvana was a little different. Living with Kurt was funny. He isolated himself in a lot of ways, emotionally. But he had a genuine, sweet nature. He never intentionally made you feel uncomfortable. Living with him in that tiny apartment in Olympia, Washington, there was some sort of bond. But it was much different than his relationship with Krist.
How would you characterize that?
I looked at Krist and Kurt as soulmates. The two had such a beautiful, unspoken understanding of each other. Those two guys, together, totally defined the Nirvana aesthetic. Every quirk, all the strange things that came from Nirvana came from Krist and Kurt. I think [growing up in] Aberdeen, their experiences together in those formative years, had a lot to do with that.
Musically, the chemistry was simple. All we had to do was be ourselves. Joining a band without ever having really met the people before, you just want to be musically powerful. There were a lot of times when I felt like a total stranger. I was used to being surrounded by people I’d known since I was 13 years old. Then I was living in fucking Olympia, with someone I don’t know. There was no sun. It was just the music.
I keep coming back to that first line in «Serve the Servants»: «Teenage angst has paid off well.» It has for you with Foo Fighters, this studio. Kurt could have had that. His principal vulnerability was an inability to enjoy the rewards of his work.
I don’t know where that came from. A lot of people don’t consider their work valid. Because it’s their own. I can understand that. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t be comfortable with everything that comes with being in a band as big as Nirvana. The thing that I don’t understand is not appreciating that simple gift of being able to play music.
When Nirvana became popular, it was a difficult transition. You’re in the underground punk scene with your heroes like [Fugazi’s] Ian McKaye or [Beat Happening’s] Calvin Johnson. You’re desperately wishing for these people’s approval, because it validates you as a musician: I’m for real.
I was lucky, because I went back to Washington, D.C. and had all my heroes tell me they were proud that I became a fucking corporate rock star [laughs]. That weight was lifted from my shoulders, right out of the game. I never worried about that. That might have had something to do with Kurt’s anxiety. He was afraid that the people on the scene wouldn’t approve of where he was.
You mentioned that things were strange for Nirvana in 1992. There were rehearsals but not much touring or recording. You were in this great situation, able to do anything you wanted, but you didn’t know what to do next or how to do it.
Lollapalooza was calling: «You gotta headline Lollapalooza.» I go to see U2 play a show with the Pixies and get pulled into Bono’s dressing room: «You guys have got to come on tour with us.» Gun’s N’ Roses is calling. I’m like, «What the fuck is going on?» It was good for us to not do much. But it was like holding a match and watching it burn down to your fingers. It was only a matter of time before something happened.
We were recording a couple of songs, one for the single with the Jesus Lizard and a Wipers cover. And Kurt said, «Oh, I have this new song idea.» And he played «Frances Farmer» [«Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle»]. It was «Oh my God, we’re gonna have another record.»
What state was the song in when he played it the first time? How would he bring a song in from his bedroom?
That day, he was in my basement. He said, «Check it out,» and played the riff. He also played «Very Ape.» We may have jammed on it that day. Usually, when Nirvana made music, there wasn’t a lot of conversation. We wanted everything to be surreal. We didn’t want to have some contrived composition. A song like «Heart-Shaped Box» – we would start jamming. Kurt would play the riff, and Krist would tune into what he was doing, and I would play along with the two of them. We would get into this dynamic, getting loud, then quiet, then loud. A lot of that quiet-loud thing came from those experimental jams.
How did you cope with Kurt’s drug use?
I quit doing drugs when I was 20. I never got into heroin, never did pills. I did a lot of acid, smoked a lot of weed, had a lot of fun. When it comes to opiates, that’s a whole other scene. I wasn’t in that scene, happily so. Doesn’t mean I didn’t care.
We weren’t in the van anymore, in that little club. You could feel an emotional distance, but in a melancholy way. There were times when you wouldn’t speak for days, although you were on tour playing shows. And then you bump into each other in the hallway and go, «We should get some mini-bikes when we get home. I know this trail we can ride behind my house.» Or, «The lawnmower place has go-karts. Let’s get some of those.» There would be these moments of connecting emotionally.
Would it happen? Would you ride the go-karts?
Of course not [Laughs]. All you needed was that moment of validation: We’re still with each other.
What do you remember about the In Utero sessions? Was Kurt using heroin then? Krist said he didn’t think so.
I don’t know, man. That was a weird thing. We’re sequestered in this house, in the middle of the snow, in February in Minnesota. Recording with Steve [Albini] – he would hit ‘record,’ we’d do a take, and he’d go [claps hands], «Okay, what’s next?» Wait, is it okay?
Working with [producer] Butch Vig on Nevermind was a whole other exercise. We made that album to be that album. We were fucking psyched. We were in the practice space so long. We were just as loose, and just as tight, as we needed to be.
We blazed through In Utero. I was done after three days. I had another ten fucking days to sit in the snow, on my ass with nothing to do. Once we were finished with all of the instrumentation, it was time for Kurt to do his vocals and overdubs.
I remember everyone was concerned about the tempo of «Heart-Shaped Box.» But click tracks were not cool. Kurt and Steve came up with this idea — we should use a strobe light [laughs]. We had this long conversation about how it won’t dictate the tempo, just imply the tempo.
Or hypnotize you.
I’m like, «Okay, guys, whatever you want me to do.» I sat there for a take or two with this fucking strobe light in my face until I practically had a seizure. I said, «Can we just play? A little ebb and flow. Don’t worry about it.»
Were you surprised that Kurt wanted to record your song «Marigold» during the In Utero sessions? It is the only original song on a Nirvana record that he didn’t have any hand in writing.
I wrote that on the four-track machine at the house. He was in his room. I didn’t want to wake him. So I would record things, whispering quietly into a microphone. I was recording the vocal harmony to the chorus of that song, and the door opened. He goes, «What’s that?» «It’s just this thing I wrote.» «Let me hear it.»
We sat there and played it a few times. I would do the high harmony, he would do the low harmony. It’s funny writing songs with other people. I’ve never done that. I write songs [for Foo Fighters] and then the band plays them with me. But sitting face to face with someone, that’s another trip. I don’t know if he had ever done that either. It was like an uncomfortable blind date. «Oh, you sing too? Let’s harmonize together.» I was kind of shy back then too.
I was very flattered. But I remember, I think it might have been Steve who said, «‘Marigold’ should maybe be on the album.» I was terrified [laughs]. No, no, wait. It was that famous joke: What’s the last thing the drummer said before he got kicked out of the band? «Hey, I wrote a song.»
Obviously, it didn’t make it. [«Marigold» came out as the B-side to «Heart-Shaped Box.»] I’m glad. Because the album retained the integrity of Kurt’s vision. But I was incredibly flattered. «Really, you like that?»
Do you remember the last time you saw Kurt and what you said?
I called Kurt after Rome. [In March, 1994, during a European tour, Cobain overdosed on pills and alcohol in a hotel in Rome. Nirvana returned to Seattle, where Cobain died a month later.] I said, «Hey, man, that really scared everybody. And I don’t want you to die.»
Then I saw him at our accountant’s office [in Seattle]. He was walking out as I was walking in. He smiled and said, «Hey, what’s up?» And I said, «I’ll give you a call.» And he said, «Okay.»
Is there something in In Utero that people need to hear and know, to understand Kurt better as a man and artist and less as a tragic figure? It is hard to hear that album the way he intended it, because of the subsequent baggage.
The album should be listened to as it was the day it came out. That’s my problem with the record. I used to like to listen to it. And I don’t anymore, because of that. To me, if you listen to it without thinking of Kurt dying, you might get the original intention of the record. Like my kids. They know I was in Nirvana. They know Kurt was killed. I haven’t told them that he killed himself. They’re four and seven years old. So when they listen to In Utero, they’ll have that fresh perspective – the original intention of the album, as a first-time listener.
Someday they will learn what happened. And it’ll change that. It did for me.
Eddie Vedder: “El pop actual parece periodismo de tabloides”
Eddie Vedder talks about mortality and ‘tabloid’ pop music
Sacado de // From: http://portalternativo.com and http://www.rollingstone.com/
En declaraciones a Rolling Stone, Eddie Vedder, frontman de Pearl Jam, ha mostrado su disgusto por el pop actual que compara con los tabloides.
Estas canciones pop casi parecen periodismo de tabloides. Es mierda que parece gustar a la gente y no sé si tiene algún sentido. No sé si alguna de las canciones del verano tiene fibra. La gente lo consume y ¿es saludable? No lo sé.
Quizá sea una manera de evadirse de sus problemas. Quizá tenga alguna propiedad saludable como una especie de propiedad restaurativa que no recibo. Parece tener un alto contenido en fructosa.
Pese a todo, el vocalista no da por perdida la batalla del rock pese a su cada vez menor impacto mediático.
Bono habló mucho de, sabes, “No podemos dejar que el rock and roll se convierta en un área de comodidad”. Pensé, “Bueno, eso es una locura. Tengo más fe en ello que eso”. Pero sé lo que quería decir. Cuando hay una canción algo mejor que las otras, normalmente es una que tiene guitarras, baterías reales. Sigo teniendo la sensación de que el mejor material tiene elementos naturales.
Pearl Jam publicarán su nuevo disco el 15 de octubre.
IN ENGLISH
I take it you’re not into much new pop music, then.
These pop songs almost feel like tabloid journalism, in a way. It’s crap that people seem to like. And I don’t know if it has meaning. I don’t know if one of the pop songs of the summer has any fiber in it. People are consuming it, and is it healthy? I don’t know. Maybe it’s some kind of way of taking themselves away from their problems. Maybe there’s some healthy property or some restorative property that I’m not receiving. It seems like it has a really high fructose content.
As unpleasant as it often was for Pearl Jam back in the Nineties, shouldn’t more good young rock bands be shooting for the pop charts?
Bono talked a lot about, you know, «We can’t let rock & roll become a niche.» I thought, «Well, that’s kind of crazy. I have more faith in it than that.» But I can definitely see his point. When there’s a pop song that seems a little bit better than others, it’s usually one that has some real guitar, real drums in it. I still feel like the best stuff has natural elements.