When I recorded these albums, I worked with a lot of talented people. But I don’t really like any of the songs on either of these albums. And this may tell you something: I’ve never met some of the people who contributed to these records. There are a few I would pass on the street and not know we made music together.
Clearly, somewhere around 2010 (if not long before), I lost the plot.
It’s hard for me to put myself into whatever my headspace might have been when I made these records but I do know that they wouldn’t have existed without the Dirtbike albums that came before them. Although I was somewhat lost already when I was making the Dirtbikes, I went off creatively and in violation of my contract with Warner. And I got away with it. The label turned a blind eye. So now a big question formed in my mind: “if I can do whatever I want (basically) on my own time, what’s the point of my relationship with Warner?”
Now consider this: I had one of those deals where sales from each new album went toward paying off the debts of the albums that came before it. And far as I know (and I’m quite certain about this), none of my albums with Warner ever recouped - not even Talkin’ Honky Blues. So I was in perpetual debt to Warner during the entire duration of my relationship with them (and probably will be for the rest of my life).
My deal with Warner was for five albums. After Situation, I had three albums that didn’t recoup and considerable debt. I was making self-indulgent albums like the Dirtbikes on the side. So I guess my thinking turned into this: ‘for the two albums I still owe Warner, I guess I should make some effort to be a decent business partner and try to make records that might make some money’. I suppose that makes a little bit of sense on some sort of messed up level.
Now, I wasn’t in a position to go full-on pop with these albums because I was a pretty low-priority artist for the label which meant my recording budgets weren’t huge. So I couldn’t go out and hire some big-name producer. I had to try to find people with decent chops who were willing to work with me. Most - but not all - of the people I worked with were people I knew personally who had some mainstream success or who I (or others on my team) thought had the potential for it. Looking back on it now, it seems like an act of desperation and I think the albums came across that way. Was I under pressure to take that approach? Maybe I felt a little. But like I said, my thinking was mostly, ‘how the hell am I going to recoup?’ The extra-sad thing is, the plan didn’t work at all. I mean, of course it didn’t. What the hell do I know about making hits? And who were these albums for? I don’t think they satisfied my audience or that of any of my collaborators. They were just bad.
And that’s not even the worst of it. These albums set the direction of my life for five years or so. And day after day, I found myself around people and in situations that didn’t fit. I was uncomfortable a lot of the time. Did you ever see the movie Beat Street? It was like the scene where Lee and Kenny went to the audition at the college. But it went on for five years. The Five Year Cringe. I’m sure I met hundreds of people in those five years. I doubt more than half a dozen of them are in my life now. Compare that to the old days - back in the 90s: all of those people are still in my life (lucky for me). That says it all, I think.
A lot of people say, ‘no regrets’. Not me. I have a bunch. I regret the decisions that guided the making of 20 Odd Years and Neverlove. And when I unpack that thinking, it’s a bit hard not to regret signing the deal with Warner in the first place. I had goals at the outset - things I hoped to accomplish. And I failed. It didn’t work out. And if I dig into the thinking even deeper, a big part of me regrets ever leaving my home city of Halifax. I wish I had stayed and kept going like I was going.
Regret is a strong word. If an angel appeared before me now - like Clarence appeared before George in It’s A Wonderful Life - and offered to re-write my history, would I take the deal? That would probably mean losing some of the good stuff I have in my life now, so probably not. But like I said before, the King Of Drums album is something of an attempt to build a bridge over the waters of the lost years. And for the people I let down with the misguided albums, I am sorry. I really am.
As far as ‘official’ Buck 65 albums go, King Of Drums is the follow-up to Neverlove (bonkers). So we’re up to date! But there’s still lots of stuff we haven’t talked about. There’s all the ‘unofficial’ albums. We haven’t talked about Bike For Three! yet. And for the next post, I’m thinking we’ll talk about the Laundromat Boogie album I made with Jorun Bombay.
A quick word on the long-term plan for this newsletter or whatever you want to call it:
My original plan was to set up a paid subscription service with lots of exclusive content and whatnot. I figured we’d do that when/if we got to 1000 free subscribers. It took a while, but I think we’re close to that now. But I think I’ll hold off on the paid thing for a while yet. I may not bother with it at all. The half-baked idea I have in mind is maybe one day making a whole album on here and share the process, beginning to end. Maybe? I have to decide if that would be cool or not. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m thinking we’ll get into some deep dives into individual songs and some other stuff. I’ll do my best to keep it going. But to be honest, there’s a part of me that wonders if I would have to go away for a while again if I were to ever do a proper follow-up to King Of Drums. I don’t know. I’m not putting any pressure on myself to decide anything right now.
Laundromat Boogie next week. Until then…