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How did spreading the recording out over a year affect the album? Was it easier to put something to tape because you were recording yourself and not at the mercy of other people’s schedules?

From a musician or band standpoint, it’s great to have more time to work on things, because you have more time to work on things to see what’s working, and what’s not. That’s the absolute best thing about the quality of home recording gear these days, that you can spend a certain amount of money and have things sound great, if you know what you want to hear and develop your ear to arrive at a decent facsimile of what’s inspired you. I would say that it would be hard for a big producer or engineer to give you something that you don’t already exactly know that you want, sonically. I still love big studios and there’s a lot of merit in paying the big reputable guys to do things, but now it’s to the point where I think that if you have enough trial and error, that you’re bound to get close to how you think it should sound. That’s sort of my mindset on how I do it.

But it does take a lot of time and a lot of frustration — sometimes I feel like the guy on Sesame Street that bangs his head on the piano when nothing’s going right (laughs). Then you know that it’s time to walk away and do something else until your head is in it, so to speak. There’s nothing worse than forcing something that’s not happening or flowing right, or maybe one’s just in a bad mood that day. When you’re paying per hour, that’s a little more difficult to do, you’ve got to work endlessly at something whether or not your spirit or mind is in it. Some producers and studio guys recommend that bands don’t go more than eight to 12 hours a day in the studio, otherwise they’re fatigued and worn out from the guitarist tracking a solo all day or whatever. With High Watt, there’s no pressure to release anything. It’s ideal to have something to release, but I only release it after it’s something that I think stands up really well.

How much was planned in advance?

Some is planned in advance with certain ideas or mood or direction, but there’s a lot that is sort of constantly shifting and evolving and I like the element of surprise, when things happen differently than you planned. Sometimes that doesn’t work and the ideas fall flat, but the theory is that one is trying a whole bunch of things and seeing what works and what doesn’t. A lot of the songs are faded in or faded out because they start earlier or go on longer, and I sort of decided that it was edited down to the best part(s), kind of like a director has different angles to make a bigger movie, or edits out certain dialogue or scenes to make it flow well or retain plotline.

Some of the songs are jam-based, meaning that there was some improvisation. The solo at the end of “Headphone Opus” is one, “Tut Will Have His Revenge,” the solos were all improvised. Usually I’ll do a take or maybe a few more, and just let loose in the key that the song is in and see what happens. I think that you can’t always be worried that there’s a safety net to catch you, you’ve got to be able to fall on your face at times and get better at spontaneity. And let me tell you, the recording device does not lie — I’ve learned a lot about timing and phrasing and other things, because you can’t deny what it is once you hit the record button, so you’d best get better at what you put into it. When I listen back to those improvised parts, it’s new to me as well, because half the time I don’t remember that I played that part (laughs).

My friend Chris [Nelson] played harmonica on “The Ruins of the Pyramids,” and that was second take, and he was just giving it everything, he was completely out of breath at the end. The first take was as good, we just didn’t hit record. So it has this off the cuff, bluesy psych edge to it, with a few bum or sharp notes in there, but I think that those add character. There was another harmonica line that was done first take, and it was mixed into “Stripped Ruins” at the end of the album. I was going to have both the harmonica solos in there, but thought it may have been too active sounding.

I throw out probably more than I keep, so even though I still have lots of unreleased material, the released stuff ends up sort of being a bit of a “greatest hits” from those sessions, where it’s something that I think still moves me at the end of it. There’s a lot of stuff where it seems like a great idea on paper, and then either just doesn’t pan out or doesn’t materialize. It’s important to know when to move on.

How did the Middle Eastern theme develop for the album? What specifically are you looking to express musically?

Some songs early on in the record were taking on a heavy Egyptian thing, and then I sort of ran with it and thought that it would make a cool concept album. There’s lyrics here and there about tombs and pharaohs and golden scarabs and whatnot. Some of the lyrics on the album are stream of consciousness — which is sort of writer speak for, “Hey I’m lazy, come to your own conclusion” (laughs). But I like the fact that they weren’t specifically laboured over in those instances, because not even I’m sure what they’re about, but they have a cryptic quality to them in that they always seem to come out being centered around greed or apathy or something like that, even if that’s not the intention. “Light at the Speed of Sound” is one, it’s not Middle Eastern influenced in the lyrics, but the music is. Something like “Obliteration” or “Ode to Snake Charming” is just really psychotic, fuzzed out harmonic scale guitar lead type stuff without lyrics, it fits into that musical theme even if there’s no lyrics or vocals.

Is it a lyrical concept as well as musical?

I was also reading about King Tut and some of that stuff. There was actually the theory that Tut was murdered, as he was the last in line for his bloodline to the throne, and there was speculation that there were common people vying for the throne, so it got to be a pretty crazy period. It’s a really deep topic, but the song “Tut Will Have His Revenge” deals with that, that other tombs were robbed, and that his was one of the few that was left untouched throughout all these years, that the curse got or scared away looters. The lyrics are hard to hear, but they were sort of meant to sound like they were being announced down a tomb or something — veiled and weird.

The “revenge” was also that his name and history has survived, whereas the people surrounding him aren’t remembered. In a weird way, it sort of deals with a time when monarchy was the original rock stars… gold, riches, looked up to by millions, godlike. In a way, pop music filled that void when royalty/monarchy no longer really ruled. To put it in perspective, when someone like Michael Jackson dies, you have all of these people who are lost, you know? When people look back at our civilization, they’ll see pictures of Anna Nicole and Elvis and Michael Jackson, Cobain, Hendrix and people like that (laughs). The hieroglyphs will be the National Enquirer or something. I’m sure that MJ’s got a gold lined coffin (laughs). James Brown probably did. In a way, we’re seeing a lot of deaths of major rock stars, and we’re seeing a lot of mortality in something that seems immortal. The creators eventually die, but rock and roll never dies, you know? Totally cliché, but true.

What defines an “opus” for you?

Something epic, grand, far out, risky. I like songs that are titled the way that they sound, too. I think that a certain overall sense of mood or key, combined with the right art and album jacket can still make a difference.

Compare Desert Opuses to Night Songs. Sound-wise, how do you feel your approach to High Watt Electrocutions changed from record to record?

Night Songs was about seven years of sessions, so that was another greatest hits kind of thing in a way. As a result, there was a lot of different sessions and frames of mind that I was working under, and there was no real intention to release anything, but it ended up sounding pretty good, so I thought that it would be of interest to the obscurist, non-mainstream music types. I was originally working on some mellow instrumentals at first, and then decided to turn the fuzz and amps up and do something that I didn’t hear in my record collection — a more metallic version of Spacemen 3; less garage-y, more metal, more paranoid. Loop sort of did that, but not as apocalyptic, I think. Night Songs was way in between genres, and it took more patience, it was more demanding. Desert Opuses is shorter by about 30 minutes, and did away with some of the more friendly psych stuff for something that’s more continuously haunting and dark. I also sort of wanted something that was a little more immediate.

What is Winnipeg like to live in? Is there something in the landscape or the area in general that inspires you to create music like this?

Hmm. Winnipeg is cool, but the thing is, we’re so isolated from every other major city. It’s an 8 hour drive to Minneapolis, and it’s a day’s drive east to Toronto. Here, you sort of have to create what you want to hear or see, because we’re so out of the way for touring bands. We still get quite a few bands through the clubs, but from the US, most bands skip us and play Fargo or Minneapolis and then head back towards Chicago. I’ve seen a lot of bands live and die by trends here, too. The cool thing about here is that, being so far away from most of the other big cities or the hubs of activity, is that by the time trends hit here, you know that they’re on the way out in whatever bigger city or area. We’re usually the last to pick up on big selling trends in music or fashion or whatever… you know, the kids I went to school with only got into the cutting edge bands when they were on the majors, not when they were on Sub Pop or SST or whatever.

Another thing about the scene from here is that for this sort of music, it’s nearly nonexistent. Even around here, High Watt is an anomaly, because I didn’t do it to fit in with any sound or scene or what was popular here. I’d like to tell you that there’s this big wave of weird heavy psych here, but the artists that I think I have the most in common with, are the ones that I still feel different from. But there’s a few bands here that are really great that are doing different things. Bands like Suicide got buried in the New York punk explosion, and to me, they were probably the most punk, but they’re also one of the most enduring, too, and had a longevity that didn’t come from being courted in the big signings or hype amongst the underground bands of that time. Not fitting in has its advantages, too. As well, we’ve always had a good arts scene here — or enough government grants to sustain non-mainstream arts.

Another thing is that the landscape here is pretty much green open prairie fields in the summer and a really desolate and cold place in the winter. Apparently, it’s the coldest place in the world that has a population over 600,000. There is some bitterly frozen winter days and nights where you have to find creative ways to evade boredom… watch movies, paint, listen to music, create music, etc. We have nice summers where you can just walk down the street or go to a park or whatever, but on the coldest days here in winter, no one in their right mind really wants to be outside. On those days, there’s usually even barely anyone out skating on the hockey rinks, it’s too cold for them to be out and being active, because. I’d sing about wheat fields, but The Guess Who have already done that (laughs), so I’m singing about the desert and believe it or not, not too far out of Winnipeg, we’ve got this desert in the middle of the Canadian Shield. You’d think that it’s just about mounties and hosers and igloos, but there’s a desert, the Carberry Desert. Look it up or Google it. I used to go there as a kid, and literally, it’s this big sandy area in the middle of what’s otherwise corn fields and whatnot. So in Manitoba, you’ve got deserts, white sand beaches, and other stuff that’s kind of like different places in one place in the spring, summer and fall, and then this barren white wasteland in the winter, which provides a change of scenery and mood, I think. The winter definitely affects people’s moods. Maybe some of those changes in seasons influenced the record. We have a lot of open space around here.

How is it writing by yourself as opposed to with a band? Do you find it more satisfying to create on your own? Would you ever be able to work with contributions from others?

Writing with others can be awesome, if you’re on the same page and you’re pulling together towards a common goal. I’ve been in various local unknown bands throughout the years. But they can also self sabotage by not taking it seriously. One thing that I always had trouble finding, was people willing enough to at least believe in their music to get it out there and tour and release records. Some guys have awesome skills but don’t get along well with others. Other guys are the best guys you could imagine, personality-wise, but they can’t play well. Some guys have the skills and personality, but no gear or transportation. Other guys have great skills and personality, but don’t take the music thing seriously. Everyone moves at a different pace, and not everyone is exactly the same, and you have to find a good common middle ground to agree on most of the time.

For me, High Watt has been more about creative freedom rather than just a one person type vision — it’s always been meant for a group (hence it being named like a group instead of one person) — but the thing is, I’m always recording and pushing ahead and putting in insane amounts of time into it, where it ends up being my stuff, anyways, where it inevitably feels like a cover band to other potential members. It’s pretty much a full-time job away from my day job, if you factor in all the smaller things too — label stuff, promoting, etc. It would probably get boring to some members to sit through as much recording and mixing that I do, but I do it because at the end of the day, I’ve accomplished something and there’s something tangible there. I’m slightly uncomfortable with the role of leader, having to tell people no or be the bad guy sometimes (laughs). Ultimately, someone has to lead though.

That being said, there’s a few guests on Desert Opuses here and there, and I love what they did. Collaborations can be great. The right musicians can push you further, and I’m all for that. I’ve learned a lot of cool things off of other players through the years, techniques, riffs, style, etc.

Of all the effects used on Desert Opuses, do you have a favorite particular sound? What on your pedal board could you absolutely not live without?

Good question. I like fuzz pedals a lot, there were a whole bunch used on the record. I think that out of all of the pedals, the ones that I couldn’t live without would maybe be reverb or fuzz. Or maybe a good overdrive/ boost. I like my Keeley Time Machine a lot.

Describe your writing process. In writing, how are the songs expanded? Once everything was done, did you have a specific album structure in mind?

Different songs are written in different ways — some revolve around a drum riff, others a guitar riff and so on. Oddly enough, some of Desert Opuses is partly inspired by urban sounds, or noises in every day city life, you know, sometimes there’s a conglomerate of noise or cars honking that creates some sort of noise or bigger rhythm or something.

Is it a matter of building and adding elements as you go?

Definitely. Usually the vocals are added last after I try to put into lyrics what the song is maybe saying, instrumentally. That’s why about half the record is instrumental, I love instrumental music and don’t think that vocals always have to be on everything. Most rock lyrics and vocals are just kind of about making noises that fit. Once that’s done, I’ll usually come up with a few composite albums when I have enough songs — I’ll sequence them in a manner that flows well, and a lot of times, it’s back to the drawing board. I’m my own worst critic. Creatively, it’s safe to say that for most artists, they get attached to a certain song, it becomes your baby for awhile and like every parent, you become blind to some of its flaws. I go through a lot of remixing, a lot of re-sequencing. It’s important to let it sit for a bit, maybe a day, maybe a week, and then come back to it with a fresh mind. It’s easy to focus in on certain things when you’ve been at something for a while — listening fatigue, etc — and there’s been tons of things where it became super obvious that I wasn’t paying attention to it at the time.

I write and record super fast, most songs have the basics of the drums, bass and guitars written and recorded in an hour or two, which has its downsides, but more often than not, I like the spontaneity and it keeps the performances a bit loose and with an error or two here and there. Then I build layers on top of that either at the time, or later. Some songs like “Headphone Opus” have, I think, 37 or 38 tracks — layers and sublayers of things that are all there, but not necessarily discernable. I like the music to be kind of overactive and cluttered at times — things trying to compete for dominance. It sometimes is hard to figure out what to focus on because there’s tons of parts. In that sense, the mixing and remixing works great because I’ll try different things and different textures and choose a mix to put on the record that best sums up what I think the song is trying to accomplish or convey.

How do you know when a song is finished?

That’s kind of a tough one, because different songs require different things, and unless every song sounds exactly the same, there’s some variation that has to be treated separately from the other songs. Sometimes it’s like, “Fuck, this is just missing something and I don’t know what it is,” and I’ll step out for a coffee or read or do something else until I figure out what it is, and most of the time, I figure out what it is or create something that fits. Then there’s the problem sometimes of adding a bit too much to something, and I have to be honest with myself as to what I’m looking for and what the song needs. Sometimes it’s way too paranoid sounding, or too optimistic or too, you know, it makes you feel something that you didn’t expect, and sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t. You need some flaws and things that aren’t absolutely perfect — the trick is to be satisfied enough with some of the flaws, but not unaware of them enough so that everything becomes good, just because you did it or thought of it or whatever. I know guys who never release stuff, and the important thing to realize is that eventually, you are going to need listener feedback and a reaction to your art, so that you can react to that. If it’s even just crappy demos, it at least gives you something for people to opine on and for you to improve on.

A lot of times, I think that the song is finished after I mix it, but there’s been times where in the master, it just doesn’t translate — drums are too loud, guitar part isn’t loud enough or whatever. I’ve learned a lot more about how good mixes and good masters coincide with each other, because the balances of things sometimes seem right until you get to the master stage.

What do headphones have that speakers don’t?

Headphones, well, you can turn ‘em up really loud and not offend your neighbours (laughs)! It’s a great way to get acquainted with a recording, because one thing that I noticed when I started really listening to recordings on headphones, is that there’s a lot of stuff that I was missing. The thing is about your regular stereos and especially boomboxes with speakers that are a foot apart or whatever, there’s no separation. It’s one big conglomerate of sound. If you go back and listen to your favorite ‘60s and ‘70s recordings — Sgt. Pepper’s, Led Zeppelin stuff, Stooges, Floyd, etc. — there’s all this crazy stuff happening in specific speakers, maybe a drum is in one speaker and the vocals are in one and they’ve got the reverb on the vocals in the other speaker channel. Having weird spatial panning was one of those things that I wanted to find out how they did it. It’s not a huge revelation in one way, but in another way, it is — everyone pretty much pans everything up the middle channel nowadays, because it will sound the best on radio and it will have the most power. But using the stereo field, you can sort of have sex with people’s ears (laughs). The music industry tried quadraphonic sound, but that was too complicated and too expensive of a setup for people. But two channels still allows a lot of possibilities.

Do you have plans for the next album? Have you started writing yet or are there general ideas of what you’d like to do conceptually?

Yeah, the next one is pretty much loosely done. There’s a few albums done, but as is the case when I get down to really analyzing what I like and don’t like about the stuff, some of it will make the cut, some of it won’t. The idea for it is to be a concept album about the Bermuda Triangle, as I’ve been reading about some of the craziness that’s happened around that area. It’s another perfectly chaotic, mysterious thing to write about (laughs).

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