I think about music all the time. Always have since I was a kid. One of the many ideas I've pondered and debated with my peers is the recurring trend of bands putting out an amazing first record, gaining some form of notoriety or fame, and then completely bombing their follow-up record. I've read interviews with bands where they cite things like too much pressure, too much partying, not enough time to write, etc etc. These are all probably valid reasons for putting out a crap record.
One huge factor I see popping up all the time is that the band acquired some money and just plain got lazy. Ego is a rampant thing with bands (duh) and in my experience, there's usually only a couple members of the band that really give a shit about quality songwriting. The other idiots are just there to look cool or to party. Nothing inherently wrong with that, it's just that a couple actually work while the others coast on their work. But for a dummy like myself who has always wanted to be in a band for a living, I have a hard time wrapping my head around squandering an amazing opportunity like having a second record put out and paid for by a label and possibly recreating the vibe that made the first record so great.
"First off, any money they made is going straight into escrow. They get it back after all of this is done and they give us a good record."
Buckle up buttercup. We're going on a journey into my fucked up way to fix this problem. I've been thinking about this for years like it's my job. Here is my thesis...
Let's say that this fictional band puts out their first record and it sells a shit ton of records and the band kind of becomes an overnight cultural phenomenon. We love that. We want to protect that. There was a formula that worked with the first record. These idiots were broke, their home lives were shit, couldn't keep a relationship, they played mostly regional gigs to very few people on the weekends. I'm betting they were raging alcoholics and had some degree of drug use going on.
Upon starting work on their next record, I come in as a producer. But my style is a little different. First off, any money they made is going straight into escrow. They get it back after all of this is done and they give us a good record. Next, I post them up for a few weeks in a dirty old warehouse space complete with zero amenities. Oil soaked blankets to sleep on, holes in the roof and walls, rats crawling around everywhere, and nothing to eat except one loaf of white bread and a pack of bologna to split between them every 3-4 days. Their cell phones would be locked up. No contact with the outside world except for the random homeless person that pisses on them in the middle of the night. Still with me? I'm talking absolute misery. No good art was created through being comfortable. Great art comes from suffering. And here comes the clincher...
I time travel 1985 Henry Rollins to the space. The Rollins that was angry and sick of Black Flag. The Rollins that made shit poetry and worked out every day ‘til he was sick. I want to time travel that manic bastard to the present and lock him in the room with these kids. I want him to scream at these kids all day and night I want him kicking them when they fuck a riff up. Throwing shit at the singer for writing a weak verse. I want these kids to feel again. I want them to remember what made that first record so great. The misery of life. The pain of art.
And that's how we keep getting quality records from bands. You won't convince me otherwise. Go ahead, try to argue with me. I've got 1985 Henry Rollins in my corner. I ain't scared.
