In the last post, I mentioned something about a crazy story involving one of the songs from the Square album. I’m now having second thoughts about sharing the story now because it involves a very big and powerful corporation and I don’t want to take the chance of getting myself or anyone else in trouble. Maybe one day I’ll get some good advice and if it feels safe, I’ll tell the tale.
Moving on…
There was a long wait between recording Square and its release - the better part of two years. Agony. I was feeling particularly restless toward the end of the summer of 2001 and so I decided to snap off an album called Synesthesia. As I recall, it came out of a challenge I gave to myself - to write and record an entire album in week, or something like that.
All things considered, the results were pretty good. There are a few good songs on Synesthesia. The beats are quite nice. I wish I could remember what some of the drum samples are. This album features my best turntable work, I’d have to say. I was ripping shit up in 2001.
One thing I don’t like about Synesthesia is that I come off as a self-righteous asshole on three or four of the songs. What was up with that? I’m not sure where that came from but it makes me feel pretty gross now (the beat on that cigarette song is nasty though).
The main story at this point in the timeline is the road. After the Radiohead endorsement in 2000, I started working with a team. Now I had a publicist and a lawyer and an agent. And that meant touring. Starting sometime in 2000 or 2001, I toured like crazy. In the peak years, I basically toured for three or four years straight. At a certain point, it made no sense to pay rent somewhere because I was never home. So I kicked it hobo-style. No fixed address! That was stressful for a variety of reasons - not the least of which was that whenever I entered a new country, a customs agent would ask where I lived and I would have to make something up.
Life on the road changed me - in some good ways and in bad ways too. If you had asked me back then, I probably would have said I loved touring and life on the road. With the perspective I have now, I realize that I was miserable. It really took a toll on my mental health. And it took a long time to recover from that.
Another thing that changed in those years on the road was my voice. You really start to hear it on the Synesthesia album. As I said in previous posts, I really like how my voice sounded on the stuff I was doing in 1995 and ’96. It was a unique voice with real character but it wasn’t a POWERFUL voice like that of Melle Mel or Chuck D. This brings me to one of my biggest complaints about touring life: sound men - the guys who work the mix board at clubs. Jesus Christ.
I was only lucky enough to tour with my own sound guy a few times. The rest of the time, I had to work with whoever was hired by the club. And these dudes (and occasional dudettes) are a very particular breed. Almost every night at sound check, it would be the same thing. I would complain or the sound guy would complain that my voice was getting swallowed up in the mix. Then there would be this charade where the sound guy would march up to the stage, “wondering” if there was something wrong with the microphone (knowing full well there wasn’t) and then they would YELL into the mic: “one, two, CHECK!”. The unspoken message was, “I don’t care what your voice is supposed to sound like, PUSH IT!”. So night after night, I was pretty much forced to yell for 90 minutes in order to be heard by anyone. It shredded my throat.
It bothered me a lot that I had to yell during my shows like that. It created a dilemma for me and looking back, I probably should have handled it in a different way. My thinking was that I didn’t want to confuse my audience. I didn’t want my voice to sound one way on records and a completely different way on stage. My gut told me that what was happening at the shows with the sound men wasn’t likely to change (it never did), so maybe I should record when my voice is shredded too - for the sake of consistency. So that’s what I did. I started making a habit of recording while I was on the road or right after I got home while my voice was still hoarse. For better or for worse (definitely worse), the gravely voice appeased the sound guys. The gravel brought out more bass and midrange in my voice, which cut through most sound systems better. Great. But I sounded terrible. Lots of people who listened to my music complained about it and I don’t blame them. Not wanting to do that to my voice and not wanting to fight with sound guys and not wanting to play through crappy sound systems are three reasons out of a thousand why I decided to stop touring. There’s no gravel in my vocals on the King Of Drums album. I think it sounds way better and based on the feedback, y’all seem to agree.
So. Synesthesia marks the beginning of the unfortunate gravel era. Like I said, it’s self-righteous at times. It’s a bit too earnest at times. “Rat’s Ass” is one of those sad-ass songs that I’m really not feeling anymore BUT I’d consider it one of the better sad-ass songs - I like the beat. As is the case with a few of the albums that came before it, there are two versions of Synesthesia. The first version didn’t circulate very widely. It’s a bit more scrappy. In case you’ve never heard it, I’ve posted it up on Bandcamp. There’s less gravel compared to the final version. The beats for a bunch of the songs are different. It’s shorter. It’s alright. If I’m being honest, I think the second version is a big improvement.
After this, we get into the major label era. I recorded five albums for Warner between the years 2003 and 2014 and I would erase those years from history, if I could. I don’t really like any of those albums except for maybe the odd moment here and there. So get ready for things to get harsh. I probably won’t go into too much detail to spare myself the torture. Talkin’ Honky Blues is next.
