INTERVIEW: Stabbing Westward
- Al Muzer
Darkest Days indeed.
With a lyrical focus that rarely strays from abject despair, resigned pessimism, wrist-slitting self-loathing, angry recrimination, a keen sense of loss and more what ifs, sighs and if onlys than most folks are forced to endure in one lifetime - Stabbing Westward's third Columbia Records release is a strident reminder that things aren't as peaceful in the real world as they appear to be on the surface.
That our Darkest Days are here. Now.
An urgent, edgy, edge-of-your-seat piece of work, the frequently-delayed new release from this Chicago-based five-piece addresses the confused, lost, overwhelmed and frightened soul in each of us with songs (including "How Can I Hold On", "Torn Apart", "Drowning", 'When I'm Dead", "Save Yourself", "On The Way Down", "The Thing I Hate" and "Goodbye") that play in stark contrast to the sugar-coated good-time pabulum fouling the FM airwaves these days.
"You know - we've been chasing this record for about a year now", begins vocalist/guitarist/songwriter Christopher Hall when he's asked about the oft-changed release date for the long-awaited new album. "We wrote most of the songs about a year ago - rehearsed them for a few weeks - and then went in and recorded everything fairly quickly."
"It was just in the mixing process that Darkest Days bogged down and became us forever chasing our tails," he laughs ruefully. "In the end, we wound up mixing it ourselves."
"And, you know what? I think we wound up with a great record," he says of the 16-song labor of love he, keyboardist/ guitarist Walter Flakus, guitarist Mark Eliopulos, drummer/ guitarist/programmer/backing vocalist Andy Kubiszewski and bassist/guitarist Jim Sellers recorded in Burbank with producer Dave (Alice In Chains, Janes Addiction) Jerden.
"Jerden did a really great job making us sound like a band," Hall says with a trace of pride. "You know, we've never really been able to capture that big, full, powerful rock sound before, but Jerden definitely locked in a vibe for us on this record."
Interrupted by a knock on his door, Hall puts the phone down and can be heard talking with someone. Back a moment later, he apologizes by explaining: "I've been away for a few weeks taking care of stuff and came home today to find that all sorts of bad things have been happening here - the worst of which was that the ceiling caved in over my bed; my bed and apartment got soaked; and there's soggy plaster, like, everywhere," he sighs as he surveys what sounds like some fairly extensive, El Nino-related damage.
"My personal shit is being held hostage by a bitter young girl at the moment", he snorts, "so, thankfully, none of that got wet."
Reminded that it was the thirteenth of the month and a Friday, Hall laughs, "It would be, wouldn't it?"
Collapsed ceiling aside, you'd think that world-wide tours with the likes of Prong, Alice Donut, Depeche Mode and Killing Joke, two successful releases (1994s Ungod and 1996s Wither, Blister, Burn and Peel) and a couple of chart-topping hits ("What Do I have To Do" and "Shame") would result in more than one semi-uplifting, things aren't so bad track ("Waking Up Beside You") on Darkest Days.
Instead, there's "Drowning".
"Ahhh, now thats a great song," offers Hall. "It makes you feel really sad. And it makes you feel like you're in some sort of sensory deprivation tank. It's got a real weird vibe to it."
"We have two lyricists and three songwriters in the band," Hall says by way of explaining the groups less-than-bubbly songwriting tendencies, "and, between the three of us, we just seem to tap into something really kind of," he tails off.
"Well, I don't want to call it negative," he continues after a bit of thought, "because I don't think it's negative music. I think it's very cleansing in a weird way; let's just say that we tend to not embrace the happy side of things."
"I'm not a particularly angry person," Hall says after another pause. "I just get really depressed sometimes."
"We don't hate everyone or anything like that," he laughs as he catches himself heading off on a dark tangent. "We're just trying to deal, not only with the day-to-day problems going on within the band, but with the disintegration of our personal lives and personal relationships because of the band.'
"We've been taken away from any regular sort of life for five years now," he adds with a trace of wistfulness, "and, I guess it's finally starting to catch up."
