A Cup of Tea?

Four months into the release of Photograph, we found ourselves in a predicament. RCA would slap us on the back and say, “It’s a nice position to be in, having too many songs to choose from for the next single!” Indeed, I thought. We certainly delivered one hell of a record, I thought, having written 90% of it. “Could we release every song on the record as a single?” I asked once. “Why not?!?” was the reply that I got from Ron Poore, head of the alternative division. I remember he even offered up a high-five, to which I left him hanging, as the band often did.

I started to believe the hype of Ron Poore. Though I knew that twelve singles was laughably impossible, I did believe that we may have had a Huey Lewis Sports on our hands. This thing could go on forever.

The question was, Cup Of Tea, hard rock anthem, driven by a guitar riff that was like trumpets, signaling the arrival of the king (Scary, but I really thought this…), or Villains, a heavy rock song, more reminiscent of what was on the radio that day. The band chose Cup Of Tea, and geared up for what we believed would be another 6 months of touring on the new single.

After the choice of song had been made, we chose video director Nigel Dick, to write a treatment. He did, and I remember it being interesting enough. But something was different this time out. Revised treatments started showing up. It was clear that the powers that be at RCA were questioning the video’s direction. The idea was: Five band members all work on a individual piece of art work, then, in the end, we pick up our pieces, walk towards each other, turn, and each individual piece of art work joins together to make one massive, amazing piece of art. What no one realized was that none of us could draw, paint, or even discuss art, and what we ended up creating was one massive, amazing piece of shit.

We had just spent $250,000 + on a video that not only had nothing to do with the song, but was really unusable. In an effort to salvage it, I went to the editing bay with our manager, and tried to re-edit the video. I knew as much about editing as I did about art, and it turned out to be the most boring, under lit video that MTV would ever play. Enter RCA’s Vice President Jack Rovner, who wanted effects, and suddenly, his will be done, there were visual effects in the form of split screens, video trails, sped up frames, you name it. And in order to make it interesting, there were over 400 edits.

I watched the video on MTV’s 120 minutes, and wondered what happened. I was surprised that they even played it. As the video went on and on and I became more and more depressed. I was excited that at the end, when Nigel Dick’s name appeared as the director, that people would think that this may be where videos were heading. Nigel was a premier director, and taste maker, and perhaps people would see this as a a video ahead of its time. My optimistic thoughts were deflated, as I saw on the bottom of the credits that the director was actually “Mojo Wurken.” Nigel was clearly so disgusted by the video, the process of working with RCA and the band, that he had taken his name off of it. Good for him.

Cup of Tea, the single, hit the ground at a slow trot, then stalled completely, along with album sales. I remember checking Soundscan, a service that provides sales information every week, and watching the number of sales fall. No worries, though. We were promised by RCA that there were going to be a minimum of at least 5 singles on this record. So, we’ll dust ourselves off, and start the process again.

Reverend Girl was the next choice. The song was a power ballad in 6/8 time, that Kevin Weatherlee of KROQ loved, and thought was the strongest single on the album. We couldn’t go wrong with that one. KROQ would add the song, and all of the other radio stations across the country would be forced to add it as well. Artwork for the single was complete, video directors submitted treatments, and we continued touring, playing for a 300 to 500 hundred people every night. But then, word came down from above, that RCA was nervous again, and that they felt like we should should jump directly to our song, The Freshmen. It was posed as a question to us, though the answer had already been given. In fact, the answer was this: If the next single fails, the album is finished. You’ll go home and start writing a followup record. No Freshmen, no Villains, no Penny Is Poison. I wanted to fight it, but realized that if The Freshmen was not a single, my days as a rock star would soon be over.

I threw up my hands, and let RCA lead the way, not realizing at the time that they were always leading the way. Our input rarely mattered. That was most evident when we were told that we had a meeting with a man I had never even heard of, and he was going to produce another version of The Freshmen, one that was more conducive to alternative radio. “They’re completely insane,” I thought. “The version that is on the album is the hit song!” That version was over 5 minutes long, with a sleepy feel that I hoped would send the masses sleepwalking to the record store to purchase it. “”What about the 200,000 people who already have the album and know that version?” RCA’s answer was “Screw ‘em.” We were going to go into the studio, re-record the song, and strip it into a new pressing. “Ridiculous!” I screamed to no one. Our hands were tied however. We knew that this would be it. The promises of “5 singles, no matter what” were empty at best. We agreed to meet with this “producer” and see what he had to offer.

Jack Joseph Puig had produced Jellyfish, one of our drummer’s favorite bands. Jellyfish was nothing like us. Didn’t sound like us, didn’t look like us, and certainly weren’t mainstream like us. How could this be the right choice for us?

I remember the meeting well. I liked Jack’s honesty and knowledge of music, and most importantly the names of those that he had known in the business. He used words like organic and natural, and described how he wanted to hear the distortion pedal being pressed down in the recording. We were going to sit in a studio and play together as a band live. No building the song from the drums up, like most recordings. If someone sneezed during a take, then dammit, that sneeze would soon be heard on the radio. Ironically, it was a new approach to us. Imagine! We all sit and play as a band and record the song the way it used to be done. No sitting and waiting for the drums to be recorded, then the bass, then all the guitars, then the keys..etc. What was played live together was going to be what ended up on the record. I loved the idea, but was cautious. We’ll see, I thought.

A few weeks, and a canceled leg of the tour later, we were in a Los Angeles studio with Jack Joseph Puig. The studio, Oceanway, was decked out with oriental rugs, hundreds of candles and all kinds of different instruments for us to play around with.

The first 2 days were dedicated to getting the right sound on the drums and guitars and bass. The 3rd day, we all sat in a circle and played the song about 16 times. The 17th time was the take to use. No one minded playing the song so much because this was a unique way for the band to play together. We had gotten away from it. All of us left our egos and agendas at the door, and just played, hoping to capture some magic. And as it turns out, we did.