saything's Blog

LINER NOTES FROM THE "LOONS" RECORDING SESSIONS

By Jackson Quinn

I was hanging out with Rick Rubin backstage at the 1998 Grammy Awards. I was in Jamiroquai's dressing room playing beer pong with Paula Cole, Sarah McLachlan, and The Wallflowers when someone—I think it was Fiona Apple—came by and told me that Rick Rubin was waiting for me in the hall! I couldn't believe it when he said that he was a huge fan of the band I manage, Saything, and wanted to produce their next album. We set things up. His people called my people. My people called his. Then I called him directly and got his machine. He called me back. He had the band and me over to his place, fed us (vegan cuisine, of course), got us high on drugs, and started asking the band all kinds of questions—the kind of questions you've always wanted a famous producer like Rick Rubin to ask: "What kind of record have you always wanted to make?" "What kind of sounds are you hearing right now?" "What music influenced you as a kid growing up?" "Were you molested as a child?" "Where did you get your haircut?" He meditated on Saything's answers for a while, carefully, thoughtfully, and respectfully. He stood up, took each of them individually in his big, strong, hairy arms and held them for a long and loving while, their faces lost in that riveting, trademark mountain man beard of his. Bassist Nate Mayhem mentioned that his smell was hypnotic—a potent but improbable combination of rust, blood, electricity, and cotton candy. Youngblood said it reminded him of his youth. Then suddenly and forcibly he ushered the band and me into a room in his basement wallpapered with pornography and missing children inserts from the Sunday paper. The space, devoid of natural light and somewhat disorienting, contained nothing more than a single Sennheiser microphone, an 8-track recorder, some secondhand jazz instruments, a Mini Moog, a kazoo, some Trojan "Magnum" extra-large condoms, a gallon of distilled water, and a 15 oz. container of Metamucil. He gave Saything some very pretty dresses and made them wear adult diapers so that they could record continuously without breaking. I too was a prisoner—kept under lock and key like a full moon werewolf. When the band idled or lulled, he blasted the Chili Peppers, the Beasties, RUN DMC (with and without Aerosmith), Tom Petty, Slayer, Danzig, Johnny Cash's "American Recordings," and "The Black Album" by Jay-Z through his home PA system to inspire Saything to new heights of creative fervor. I found the Jay-Z tracks to be the most disturbing of his selections for several reasons, the least of which being that they wouldn't be recorded for another five years. From an overhead projector he obsessively and incessantly screened recently broadcasted episodes of When Animals Attack, Why Animals Attack, Baywatch, Baywatch Nights, Highlander, Platypus Man, Renegade, Models, Inc., and Roosjen's favorite, Alien Autopsy: Fact or Footage? that he'd taped on his VCR. When we hungered, he slid Mama Celeste frozen pizzas from the supermarket under the door. They weren't cooked. When Dirty Dirk cried, he laughed. It seemed like days, maybe weeks were passing and it was all beyond our control. When the band and I felt like we'd hit rock bottom, physically, spiritually, emotionally, and creatively, Rick just smiled, told us to cut, take off the diaper, and hit the shower. Listening to the results now, after all these years, I can hardly understand what Saything was bitching about. In hindsight, I would have called Saything a baby, too. At the time, I never thought they'd be capable of making a record like quite like that, and that's what makes Rick Rubin a genius, I guess. He hears things a little differently, and we always love him for that. Included in this compilation is 'Hanging By A Head," taken from the sessions described above, engineered and mixed by Rick and the monumental Greg Ashley