It’s early days yet but how is the Teargarden by Kaleidyscope concept being received by audiences?

It seems to be gathering momentum. I knew that the material I was releasing was strong material, but oftentimes music is so contextual and depending on what’s going on around what you’re doing. With Smashing Pumpkins over the last two or three years it’s been so much about ‘what does this mean?’ and not as much focus on the music. And I feel that just recently, maybe because of the strength of the band live, people are starting to focus on the music again, and a little less on the drama stuff. It seems like now there’s that healthy cyclical thing where people are going to the shows and then they’re going to listen to the songs again, and then they’re writing and they tell a friend in the next city. You start to see this kind of building momentum around the work.

What I really like about the idea is that in one way it’s a rejection of the traditional album concept, but in another way it’s a celebration of it because it forces the listener to give each track full consideration.

I like the idea that it’s my responsibility to deliver something that’s worth listening to. When I would make albums, I’d look at it like, ‘okay, I’ve got these four really catchy songs… well I want to do this really long song, and I don’t care if it takes somebody three months to figure out it’s a good song.’ Because I kinda assumed that they would listen to the album. But once I saw that people stopped listening to records – albums – in a normal fashion like we probably grew up to, then I also started seeing people not listening to that song that took two or three months to get into. As a record person, I actually found that they were some of the songs that I loved the most, at the end of the day. A song like Rain Song by Led Zeppelin comes to mind. You have those experiences where it’s like ‘This is so fucking epic.’ It describes everything you’re feeling. I realised I was really kinda back in the 1950s, where you were really gonna be judged on your latest song. And rather than get bummed about it, I took it on as a challenge. Slowly it’s evolved into, ‘Can I keep upping the ante with each release?’ And that’s exciting.

Do you have everything written already in loose form or is it being composed as you go?

I have more than enough written but I would say probably half or less than half is worth recording, because I’m still evolving with the quality level and maybe what I’m trying to say. Now that the band has really come together as a unit, I’m looking at the material in a completely different way. We’re sort of back into a dynamic rock outfit. So that opens up my mind. It brings the musicianship back into the equation in a way that maybe it hasn’t been in a while.

It’s been pretty well established that you’ve played the majority of the instruments in the studio over the years…

That’s right.

Has that continued with the new material?

There’s a new song and two more in the can, and those are still pretty much the traditional way, which is just me and the drummer, but the songs we’re gonna start recording probably in October, those are going to be contributed by the band as a whole. Not just who’s gonna play what but all of us working together as a team to make sure that what we’re putting out is representative of where the band is going. We’ve really come together as a unit. It’s been an organic process that’s grown on its own, and I never thought I’d be back in that situation. So it’s surprising for me that I’m actually in a place where I want to get to the ideas, because it feels good and healthy, not like I’m being forced because of an expectation that’s not realistic. It’s a really, really strong unit, and it’s weird, because if you look at – the Ramones come to mind – sometimes it’s that weird thing where it’s the sum of the parts that adds up, and you don’t necessarily know why because it’s not always about who’s the best bass player or something. It’s the way people play together, and it either clicks or it doesn’t. And for whatever reason, from the first gig we just had that thing together and people really seem to be responding. I’ll give you a small inside story. There are people who work on my crew – light, sound – that have worked with me since probably Siamese Dream. They come and go, they’re not always out on every tour, but I always have them back. So my light guy hadn’t worked with me in maybe ten years or something, and he came to a rehearsal and he was like, ‘Holy shit, I can’t believe it!’ I said ‘What?’ and he goes ‘You’ve reinvented it!’ and he was shocked. And after six or seven shows he pulled me aside and said ‘This is better than the old band. I don’t know how you did it, but it’s better than the old band!’ And that’s the kinda guy who’s gonna tell you what he really thinks. He’s not gonna gloss it over, I’ve known him for 17 years, we go out to dinner together. He’s not going to yank my chain. It’s a really good feeling, y’know? And that’s been consistent. We see it more if the crowd is over 30, 35 years old. They come in with the crossed arms, like, ‘I love the Pumpkins and I want to see what Billy’s up to,’ but there’s that kind of skepticism. Like, ‘Hmm, I kinda miss the old band.’ But by the end of the show they’re shaking their head and going ‘Fuck yeah! You’re pulling this shit off! I can’t believe it!’ They’re happy because they get their band band. They didn’t get the band back that they wanted to get back, but they got their band back, if that makes sense. It’s a nice thing to see, and it happens almost every night. It’s like, ‘Cool! Let’s keep rocking!’

I have kind of an interesting take on Smashing Pumpkins because I didn’t listen to you guys during the first run. I’m 32 now and when I was a teenager I was all about the shred, so I kinda felt like I couldn’t listen to you guys until the hype had died down…

Hahaha. That’s awesome. Sorry to interrupt you, but that was me at, like, 20 or 17. I stopped listening to certain bands because, like, they didn’t shred fast enough, Clapton and all that. I wanted to listen to Yngwie!

Well that’s the thing, I wanted to listen to Yngwie and I wanted to listen to Yngwie and I wanted to avoid you guys until it’d died down a bit and I could get a bit of perspective on it. And when I did, it was like, ‘Man, there’s some awesome guitar playing here. I can’t deprive myself of this!’

Haha. No, it’s all about the guitar playing. I wish we played better, but we love it. All we do is sit around and talk about guitar players!

That takes me to my next question as a guitar geek. How did your signature Fender Stratocaster come about?

[Laughs] Here’s a great rock n’roll story. I actually approached Fender around 1993, 1994 and I wanted to do a guitar because the band was really popular, and obviously we were playing big concerts full of kids. And they basically told me to fuck off. I think they said ‘We’ll sell you guitars at cost.’ They had no interest in a signature guitar, nothing, and I was really bummed out. And so, through Ginger, the last Smashing Pumpkins bass player – who had a Fender endorsement deal – I had got to meet some of the current Fender people, and I told them the same story, and they said ‘Oh all those people are long gone – we would love to do something with you. We were under the impression you wouldn’t do anything with us. That would be amazing. We were under the impression that you wouldn’t do anything with us.’ So when we sat down to have the meeting, they said ‘Look, we’ll build you whatever you want, we’ve done that with people, but what we really want is something a normal person, any kid can walk in and buy off the wall.’ It really reminded me of when I was poor… I’d go to Guitar Center and I would stand there and look at the wall and think ‘I can’t afford this stuff.’ So they said ‘Can we build a guitar that is a reasonably-priced guitar that anyone can buy?’ And I said ‘I’ll do you one better. Lets’ build a guitar that’s not just for people who play like me. Let’s build a guitar that anybody who plays hard rock or loud alternative music will want to use because it’s a versatile instrument.’ And they said ‘That would be amazing.’ So we worked on that together. It’s not a radical redesign. My whole thing is, I want a heavy guitar that sounds like a Strat. I don’t want a Fender that sounds like a Gibson, with a humbucker dropped in it. So I worked with Steve Blucher from DiMarzio pickups and got my own custom-made pickups from him. He’s a brilliant guy. And nothing makes me happier than to have a musician walk up to me and go ‘Man, I got your guitar and I fuckin’ love it.’ And I’m really proud of it for that. We just had a meeting again and we’re gonna try to do a new-new version with some of the newer technologies that are coming out. We’re really excited about that. I’m actually right now waiting to get some prototypes of the new concepts.

That’s gotta be fun.

Yeah! I’m really happy because it makes me feel good that I’m giving some people the options I wanted from Fender guitars in the 90s. Fender was putting out guitars that were very specifically for certain things, and I’d have to do all sorts of crazy stuff, or buy vintage guitars, to try to get the sound I was looking for. I felt like they didn’t think about people who were playing like me at the time. They kind of missed the boat on that whole alt-rock generation, which is why a lot of us played vintage guitars, because the current ones [in the 90s] weren’t doing it. Anyway, I’m happy, I’m really happy with my relationship with them.

Source: I Heart Guitar Blog

When alternative rock exploded in the 1990s, one of the movement’s paramount unspoken rules was no guitar solos. Rules are made to be broken, though—especially in rock ‘n’ roll and even more so in alternative—and one of the first bands to buck the trend was Chicago’s Smashing Pumpkins, which released a string of seminal U.S. alt-rock albums throughout the late 1980s and 1990s and boasted one of Generation X’s most articulate spokesmen and first bona fide guitar heroes in Billy Corgan.

To fully appreciate Corgan’s sheer musical “out-there-ness,” you have to keep in mind the context of the times. When grunge hit big and everybody else was gazing at their shoes, sticking to the chords and so not soloing, Corgan stepped forward with lengthy and unconventionally next-level instrumental breaks that could go from shredding, screaming incendiary intensity in one song to delicate, whispering beauty in the next.

More than 30 million albums later and fresh from the success of the Smashing Pumpins 2007 Zeitgeist reunion album and world tour, Corgan worked closely with Fender to create his signature model, the Billy Corgan Stratocaster guitar. Released in June 2008, it’s an extraordinarily versatile and modern take on the Stratocaster, meticulously crafted to Corgan’s exacting specifications and specifically designed with custom-wound pickups to get the high-gain sound and signature mid-’90s buzz-saw tone that helped make Corgan such a distinctive and influential guitarist.

Always a keen commentator, Corgan spoke with Fender News in detail about his history as a guitarist and about the development, sound and purpose of his signature Stratocaster model.

Fender: What attracts you to the Stratocaster?

BC: Hmm, where can I start? Well, my first real guitar was a Fender Mustang®. It was more of an economic thing—I couldn’t really afford any other guitar, and I think I got it for a couple hundred bucks. And I always loved that it had this sort of Indian thing—you know, there wasn’t a lot of sustain on the guitar, and I think in my early playing I was sort of attracted to that kind of Cure style of playing, even though I didn’t know the Cure existed—but that sort of open-string-y type thing. So in the early days of the band, that’s what I played, but I could never get the gain that I wanted.

And then Jimmy (Smashing Pumpkins drummer Jimmy Chamberlin) actually sold me my first Stratocaster, which was a 1973-ish-era Strat®. And playing the Stratocaster through a high-gain amp—it suddenly was like it evoked all the things that I liked that I’d been hearing on recordings, whether it was Hendrix or Blackmore. And I’d never put it together—it was never a choice of, like, “Yeah, I want to play a Stratocaster.” I just got one, and when I played it, it suddenly brought alive what I was looking for in music.

If you were to ask specifically what it was that I liked about the Stratocaster right away, never really having even really played one—because my father played Gibson®, and so I attached what I thought was good sound to my father’s playing; he’s a different type of guitar player than I am—was the idea that you could play a very individualistic style, and yet you don’t end up sounding like everybody. And what I mean by that is if you think of the difference, say, between Jimi Hendrix’s playing, Ritchie Blackmore’s playing, Uli Jon Roth early days Scorpions playing, my playing—you have completely different guitar players; Yngwie Malmsteen; completely different guitar players, yet the instrument never makes their playing more narrow. In fact, it becomes more expressive.

The fact that the Strat was originally based on the thinking of a violin makes complete sense, because the whole point of playing violin is to express the person’s personality. And I think the Strat is the preeminent personality guitar—if you want to be an individualistic player, this is the guitar for you.

What’s attracted me to working with Fender to try to make my own guitar is not to make a guitar to make you sound like me—because that would be the last thing I would want anyone to do, because I certainly am not interested in sounding like anybody else; it’s to make an instrument that would develop the person’s individual expression.

I think what’s difficult for people in this modern culture, with such high-gain rock application, is understanding how to play a style that expresses their individual personality and yet still keeps them sort of within the sound that’s current, which is very, very high-gain. And what I’ve worked with Fender to try to do is to create an instrument that will both allow the individualistic expression at a very high level, so that there’s nothing on the guitar that will hold you back—which is always the most frustrating thing, I think, for a guitar player—and at the same time allow your personality to shine through and play high-gain rock, which I think Fender’s been a little behind the curve in addressing.

Now, the most common thing that people do is they put a humbucker in the guitar, but that takes away the very intrinsic value of what makes a Strat a Strat. Now, I don’t put down anybody who wants to do that, and I’m sure there’s an aesthetic there that they’re attracted to. But for me, the Strat with the Strat sound—if you can get that right, that is the optimum. And if you look at the great solo guitar players who’ve come out of rock, they’ve all played Stratocasters.

Now, what if you’re sitting there saying, “I’m not a solo guitar player”? Well, I’m not always a solo guitar player either, yet people associate me with a very individualistic style. And you can hear the influence of my style that I took from other people, whether it was Hendrix or the Cure or God knows who else I stole from—you can hear that echoed in modern alternative rock. The point is that it’s about getting down to who you are. What has always frustrated me, as a musician, with equipment is when the equipment keeps me from being who I am. And so what we’ve tried to do is make an instrument that lets you reach your potential.

Fender: Who or what inspired you to pick up the guitar?

BC: My original inspiration for playing the guitar, on paper, would seem to be my father—my father was a fantastic guitar player; he still plays a little bit. A really mind-blowingly good guitar player. Never reached any national prominence but, for me, was like my guitar idol. And my father had very strong opinions about guitar.

Unfortunately, my father never encouraged me to play the guitar, and in fact tried to teach my brother the guitar, which is, of course, family history. And I walked down in my friend’s basement one day, and he had a Cort® Flying V Michael Schenker model—black and white, and he was sitting there and there were two cute girls, sort of eyes open, looking at him, and I thought, “Oh, that’s what I want to do” (laughs). So that was my original inspiration. But once I started playing, and because of my father and because I grew up in a rich musical legacy, there were so many people that I immediately wanted to try to play like, and that’s the great rush about playing the guitar—there are so many choices, and there are so many different ways. And there’s really no wrong way to play the guitar, whether you’re in the Sex Pistols, or Voivod or Slipknot. There are so many different ways to express yourself on the guitar, and that’s why it’s such a supreme instrument.

Fender: How much have you been using your new signature model?

BC: Well, I have a lot of vintage Strats that I still use a lot for recording. The problem is they’re very tweaky, and each one’s sound is completely different, so there’s no consistent go-to guitar. My greatest go-to guitar, my ’73 Strat that Jimmy sold me back in 1989, got stolen from a Pumpkins club date in 1991 or something, and I’ve never seen it since. And I’ve always struggled since then to find a guitar that was like my guitar.

And when I first talked to Fender about making a signature model, it was during the making of the album, and they provided me with some models of different possibilities of where we could go. And so I did use some of those on the album—the new Pumpkins album, Zeitgeist—and the album is a mixture of both new Fender guitars and old Fender guitars and, of course, some other brands, but primarily trying to find that combination of heaviness with the different sounds.

As far as using my new guitar model on tour, I play the guitar every night. I have a few different models for different tunings and stuff like that. I’ve been working with DiMarzio® to find a pickup, and I think that this combination provides the most versatility in the high-gain setting. And I’m out here playing every night on stages all over the world, and as anybody knows who plays, ground hums, what the lights do, people talking on their cell phones, can cause all sorts of interference. And this is a big problem with the old guitars—they weren’t made at a time when you had all this electrical interference.

So I’ve been very satisfied with the low noise floor of the DiMarzio® pickups, the high-gain application and the versatility, because I’m playing music from over a 17-year period of the Pumpkins’ history. So I’m playing everything from what would be, you know, early, kind of spacey Pumpkins to grunge to complete cyber-metal to ballads, and anybody who knows the Pumpkins’ music knows that there’s a lot of versatility in the guitar playing and the sounds. So I really need an instrument that can very easily provide me … you know, I don’t have time to switch guitars between every song. It’s like, I have to be able to make quick decisions about how to make things work, and I’ve been very satisfied with these guitars.

We have a hard-tail (bridge) on the back for better sustain; a heavier body weight so there’s enough low end in the guitar. Working with DiMarzio® to get a pickup that’s got both Strat articulation but enough low-end heavy metal to get the Sabbath out of the guitar that I want. Aside from that, it’s sort of a standard Fender guitar; I’ve just kind of hot-rodded up some aspects. And I think what’s really nice about this is that the guitar is the kind of guitar that anybody could pick up and play. So it’s not sort of geeked out in some way that I could only be interested in, but at the same time it gives me the versatility that I need, and I think that’s what makes this a great instrument.

And you know, a lot of people do endorsements and they love the ad and the thing, but they don’t really play the guitars, or they make a guitar that’s so specific to them that if you play it, you can only sound like them. This guitar, really, I think anybody could pick up and be satisfied, and in no way would it infringe upon their playing; and at the same time, it’s able to support me every night. I’m playing this guitar onstage every night probably about 80 percent of the time. There are other songs that I need just different sounds and tunings, but the versatility of this instrument is what impresses me, and which is why I’m really excited about doing the model.

Source: Fender Guitar
Featured picture by Kristin Burns

15/07/2000 – buried deep inside…
chards of glass / recording studio – chicago illinois u.s.a.

buried deep inside some altar of noize I write to you a desperate man. my star is fading and I do not know what to do. I stare at the track sheets and wonder where the magic went. I feel it all crashing down upon me. oh who is i. how are you ?. I am sure by now that you have deciphered all the deep alchemical codes of machina and have now moved on to some 8th generation alt-rap-metal hybrid bands new disc and are peering deep into the meaning there too. shit ! I had it all so planned out and curses I have been foiled. I guess all those things they said about us and especially yours truly bill/glass/zero/jackboot 7 are true. I can’t tell you how sad this makes me. to compensate I have written a batch of songs so sad they are almost happy if you know what I mean. isn’t the planet supposed to end with all the millenial paranoia. but wait there is a light. and maybe even a plan or too. must finish machina soon or will perish like tangerines. takus carus allus ovus youse.
xo

15/11/2000 – special machina contest announcement !!!

good news, good news.because of the overwhelming response to the machina contest, we have decided to award some more prizes and break down the best entries to semi-finalists and esteemed runners up.runners up will receive a nice prize for their participation and contributions and (drumroll please)semi-finalists will receive a even more special prize and the chance to compete for the grand prizes.what does this mean to me if I am one of the 10 semi-finalists.well, here’s the rub.all the runner up entries along with the semi-finalists entries will be posted for all to read.only the semi-finalists will be given the opportunity to submit new entries to compete for the grand prize lucky you, you will have only 72 hours to do so.”but won’t everyone be able to read each others entries and rip off my ideas??”.well, exactly, but of course you too can politely borrow their ideas as well.remember, entries that have been chosen were picked for their BASIC understanding of the story of glass and his band of misfit rockets, so this is a way to help choose a clear winner in the end and (all together now) reach a defined conclusion!.very exciting indeed!.also, the semi-finalists revised entries, which will have no limit on length, will be posted and fans will be given a chance to vote for their favourite entrant with a special prize awarded to that entrant for catching the fickle gaze of the fans!.one more hint: machina II/the friends and enemies of modern music, is also a part of the machina story, a very important part (hint hint!).stay posted to see if your entry made the runner-up’s or the semi finals.a final time period will be posted then.xo
bill corgan

21/11/2000 – mystery of machina / the final round

hello and welcome to the final round of the mystery of machina contest, a contest that has sparked much debate amongst fans and enemies alike and managed to yield an inordinate amount of writing…how much you say? well if you figure that there were over 1,000 entries it works out to about 2,500 pages of theories, blinding rhetoric, blithe poetry, and of course the ever genius response of “the mystery is there is no mystery”…that answer is dead wrong, because there has been a plot and a mystery all along…on the very first day that the 4 original smashing pumpkins sat down in a room for the first time in almost 3 years (way back in october of 1998) we discussed the ideas that I had surrounding a final album by the band that was to be approached like a play…everyone agreed to the theories in principal, if not ultimately following thru with 40+% of the things that would have made the story come even more alive for the band and the participants in the ruse, you the fans of this tortured monolith…that being said it has been a great experience for me in a living, breathing art sort of way and a natural extension of the bands playing on stage and making it up as we went along…some have suggested that it is hard to figure out the story because there is no ending, per se…that is not true and misses the point entirely…there is a plot to this story, and it follows tried and true folkloric structure to make it’s main points come across…but as in the blues or jazz traditions, or oral folklore, the story can breathe and be alive and stick to the plot all at the same time…on a more personal note let me say thank you to all the participants who have made this an amazing journey…little did I know when I dreamed this up that it would become so alive, and it would give this final work, MACHINA, so much resonance…reading thru all the essays has been tough, because I wanted to give each the attention that they deserved…some may note in reading the semi-finalists and runners-ups works that there are contradictions and theories that are off base…well that is because the essays are presented as is (with an occasional editorial comment or two) and leave it up to the final participants to discern what it is about these particular writings that caught my eye and ear…therein lies the final jungle that are brilliant ones must hack thru…also, some people mentioned in their submissions that it was hard to get inside my mind, and they felt that there interpretations were valid, if not more valid than mine because MACHINA is such an interactive and participatory experience…well, that is true, but it is my contest and seeing as I wrote the story I must own the fact that my deeper meanings have more to do with the ultimate messages contained within….ironically, the grandest message of all was not concluded in any of the entries…to those who feel that they wrote or added more than some of the entries here, I apologize, for there were many grand entries that spoke to the shell of machina, but missed the sweet core of the fruit that is so essential to getting it right…no one ever said life was fair, and believe me, in this kingdom it never has been…a few additional thoughts to our semi-finalists…take all that you have here to attempt to create a more unified vision, don’t neglect machina II as it is critical to a full understanding, don’t be afraid to reach out to your friends to give you perspective on something you may have missed…and carefully re-examine the 7’s, seven albums and seven chapters of the machina story…so we have come to the beginning of the end, I hope it has been as rewarding for you as it has been for me, I can’t thank you enough…

05/04/2001 – answering a few questions

1. Will we ever know? OR is the whole idea to make what we want out of it?

i assume this question means the machina story and theories, etc. assuming that it is, there are two answers, one: the interaction of the fans was part of the story, so as long as there is interaction from the fans, and until all the true stories have been told, no, you can never completely know and two: you can watch a movie 2 or 3 times before you notice something that you didn’t see before…i can say that in people’s hurry to “figure it all out” that many parts of the story, and huge chunks of the concept have not been explored…

An excerpt from Glass and The Machines of God

and as it was with all things, we spoke in rhyme and riddle…not for fear of detection, for that had happened very long time ago, but rather that those who had secretly wished to be spoken to were… to know that these words were intended for them and theirs only…for lonely isles and windswept curses held the symbols transmuted and divined to hold within, to keep forever… only a warm heart and a knowing smile granting entrance to this mystery…for every age held it’s oracles and truth tellers, it’s false bell ringers of alarm, and of course the hollow spectres of complacency…so in this we sing the true echoes sown of old cloth, born to stare so ravaged by all they see…because truth is madness and madness truth truly revealed, and to see is to always see too much…to bear witness to the false and right and relay backwards and forwards that which you know…love the constant signal that heals and promotes as our truth teller sleeps inside furious walls, thrice blessed and crimson cursed…his story is the same story, and as with all without ending…a boy and a girl, simple yes but eternal always…glass plays, the machines shakes voltage, and the gaze is drawn again and again in uncertain lines…one ray catches a june eye, our angel who has waited so long…frozen to witness, we can walk around and survey this moment as close to perfection as any that have ever been, to see the joy, the exalt, the arrogance…with it’s sheer violence of embrace and release slowly offering teeth gritting awareness, the song ends, the lovers arc, and in this bliss there is hope, expectation, and yes, pure and indivisible love…the girl, his love, the light that would transform any story into the moon and it’s sister stars…she had no faith but that which destroys, and had only known herself in coarse mirrors, giving over and unto whatever moved her…opium eyed and gouge mouthed, she stalked a barren trail because she believed that all that was good had died long before she was named…she the reflection in glass, he in her that which he could not claim, her in him that which she so desperately needed, forever breaking…she had chased black holes of silence to find peace, and in turn that darkness swept into her a fever that was unshakable…their fates had intertwined long before they were lovers, their moment extending back before a time their eyes first met, and that bond was eternal, thru fire and chard to meet again and again until this moment, our apex and conclusion… these lights rise to search the heavens, straining to be recognized in sanctity, purity, and insolence…to hopefully catch the gaze of a supreme intelligence, watching us quietly and nodding a silent approval…because it is with faith and faith only that one justifies the reach, with little to confirm but glimmer and awe, ritual and circumstance alike…in dreams and visions alike, so real and unreal to be imagined again and again in a reverse mindscape, was video fodder to soak in..he had his voice, disembodied with no claim…but were the sounds his? could he own these thought if they could be sold? thumbtacked to ceilings all over the world lay his schemes and praton wishes, cold flung to white light, like scrapnel of a teenage atom bomb…the kids waited their turn for their piece, and the eyes watched you everywhere…amongst these ruins our hero dies zero and finds a dead station moving static code…thru the channels and medium still he spoke only to find out he wasn’t speaking at all, just humming someone elses favourite song…the voice says you are one of many more to come…in sadness and in love, in faith and movement alive

Part I:…for lonely isles and windswept curses held the symbols transmuted and divined to hold within, to keep forever…only a warm heart and a knowing smile granting entrance to this mystery…for every age held it’s oracles and truth tellers, it’s false bell ringers of alarm, and of course the hollow spectres of complacency…so in this we sing the true echoes sown of old cloth, born to stare so ravaged by all they see…because truth is madness and madness truth truly revealed, and to see is to always see too much…to bear witness to the false and right and relay backwards and forwards that which you know…love the constant signal that heals and promotes as our truth teller sleeps inside furious walls, thrice blessed and crimson cursed…his story is the same story, and as with all without ending…a boy and a girl, simple yes but eternal always…glass plays, the machines shakes voltage, and the gaze is drawn again and again in uncertain lines…one ray catches a june eye, our angel who has waited so long…frozen to witness, we can walk around and survey this moment as close to perfection as any that have ever been, to see the joy, the exalt, the arrogance…with it’s sheer violence of embrace and release slowly offering teeth gritting awareness, the song ends, the lovers arc, and in this bliss there is hope, expectation, and yes, pure and indivisible love…the girl, his love, the light that would transform any story into the moon and it’s sister stars…she had no faith but that which destroys, and had only known herself in coarse mirrors, giving over and unto whatever moved her…opium eyed and gouge mouthed, she stalked a barren trail because she believed that all that was good had died long before she was named…she the reflection in glass, he in her that which he could not claim, her in him that which she so desperately needed, forever breaking…she had chased black holes of silence to find peace, and in turn that darkness swept into her a fever that was unshakable…their fates had intertwined long before they were lovers, their moment extending back before a time their eyes first met, and that bond was eternal, thru fire and chard to meet again and again until this moment, our apex and conclusion… these lights rise to search the heavens, straining to be recognized in sanctity, purity, and insolence…to hopefully catch the gaze of a supreme intelligence, watching us quietly and nodding a silent approval…because it is with faith and faith only that one justifies the reach, with little to confirm but glimmer and awe, ritual and circumstance alike…in dreams and visions alike, so real and unreal to be imagined again and again in a reverse mindscape, was video fodder to soak in..he had his voice, disembodied with no claim…but were the sounds his? could he own these thought if they could be sold? thumbtacked to ceilings all over the world lay his schemes and praton wishes, cold flung to white light, like scrapnel of a teenage atom bomb…the kids waited their turn for their piece, and the eyes watched you everywhere…amongst these ruins our hero dies zero and finds a dead station moving static code…thru the channels and medium still he spoke only to find out he wasn’t speaking at all, just humming someone elses favourite song…the voice says you are one of many more to come…in sadness and in love, in faith and movement alive

Part II: Eyes were being scratched still ant tattoes applied, but no one could or would ever hear the full secrets of glass. he was rewriting his story everyday, moving the fixed destiny point with every triumph and mistake every kiss held new promise, every song a new disaster all were sung to the ghost children, the synthetic flesh flash of ideal and glitter gash in their dreams they saw him surreal, but he was as real as they needed him to be discarded until he roared back into their visions, within blood and sound, once invested there was no turning back for anyone plastic playmates and wooden rock rat haunted their hari kari plots and glass obvious play s for sympathy, or was it the other way around he was a general leading them all into a war that he and they knew they could never win but still they fought to love and always die standing moving in night funerals because all the others had perished, he caught glimpses of their faces every once in a while in rubble and wreckage strewn he had fought way too long, jam wired shut and now he held too long past sleeping futures and endless newscasts, seeking shelter and a place to once again call home in the dark he would fumble with food and foe, seeking contact and knowing confirmation cells sighing agreement over concrete cold, always remembering and as if drawn he would lumber on, gun in hand and tears in heart he tried to keep a journal and kept losing the pages pictures of trees and dates taped to his chest he had gone mad but there was no longer anyone he heard or he respected to tell him so the grass grew very fast and it seemed he had to cut it every 4 or 5 days on radio static he waited for an order that may never come he had wanted to be outside in the direct sun, but the trees sang him to sleep the weeping willow out back seemed to hang its hurt so obvious and no one seemed to mind out the window he stared, seeking her and them a day would come his mind would drone but there was no one there to agree in fact the entire weight of his surroundings seemed to indicate the exact opposite but like a dumb fish he kepts swimming upstream there was little of beauty to guide except the sun and moon, his constant companions in majesty full the night came the daylight only providing protection for the scars laid bare the night before the pills seemed to have fallen on the floor everywhere, and no matter how hard one scrubbed the dirt was always there even the neighbors smelled the garbage and impolite realities piled high and often, spilling over the redwood fence into their perfect yards in the morning the grass shone dew prisms on the midday sun it burned scorched brown thirst and at night held cool moondust and starlight out here the universe was vast, only in distance it was never meant to be held there, it cried a mystery i am and you must find me first if the game is ever to begin in faith there is all power, in love all faith every action a pebble dropped into the clear pool of humanity, rippling forever on until the waves become indecipherable and unseen. what seems like confusion becomes order of the highest magnitude glass had so long ago reasoned himself out of reason anxious but not afraid, he told himself that this meant something over and over until he began to believe it the mask came off and he beheld yet another mask like all modern men we could claim mastery over all, but it was a paper truth and he knew it

Part III: without focus, without generation, without peer…come whither winters too often seen …felt in devotion, willing in it’s uncertainty…cry aloud yes! children to a child …a crown glorious for seeing and naysing, soothsaying into prophecy in measured mercury time…this is our moment, our world, this is our church, our children, our dominion as yet undisclosed, as yet unclaimed…the universe is ours reduced to tiny portraiture… with love and fire and desire and innocence to reckon judgement upon us all…in this duality until we are truly free…this role cast and agreed upon, the child took it’s hand…to know no other except in one’s heart is to walk forward into oblivion…raised from sleep to be beaten, moved to non-tears from an implied violence that hung in the air at all hours…these terrors and troubles will make you he was told but somehow they continue to break him…a smile is always the great eraser, and the dreams of those future smiles and miles allowed a secret garden to grow, however sad true it all became…it never was you can say, but it was…and it never will be they can say, but it will…something always gets lost along the way…in translation, in memory, in vision, but that is just how it is…so to peer strong into the faces one must see their own face, to wonder reflection and not judge, but this too is impossible…for the accused will one day stand as the accuser…the cord snakes between the legs, one fist raised in power, the other fist raised in solidarity, this is the universal vision of the movement…I used to be a little boy so old in my shoes…for every face slap that imprinted itself as tattoo under my skin, every indignity that scarred itself upon my broken heart, walks with me as ghost and conscience…a boy, a zero, a hero, a goat, a ghost frozen glass, broken, this is all you need to know…the codex every moment in this war without end, the attrition constant, but the victories oh so sweet and pure…in this we drink from mountain springs and let the grand old sun soak us old…to curse one’s very existence is a kind of power, especially if you can decide to make the best of that hate, to fuel that anger with the necessity of resignation and purpose…to cloak your pain and fear in the language of sound, the poetry of devotion…a child draws the perfect house with the perfect parents and the perfect hot rod car and the perfect dog, unwittingly signing into a contract bound to be broken…the choices came before all he believed, but somehow the fuzzy glow of intuition didn’t seem to cover the tracks of this particular beast…glass disintegrates it all for your entertainment, his purpose to be the atom bomb unsustained and smiling that perfect smile…from the first cord came shiver and from the last cord will come peace…it is a game to be played viciously, so change the names and make up a few new verbs and there you go…this child was struck and a decision made to never never cry again…in this stupid land of the frozen ideal, WHO AND WHERE ARE THEY NOW?? the wooden idols of persecution in the glory of helpless and unending resurrection…who will be there upon your deathbed hour to hold your hand and wipe your brow…who will cast the last stone upon you, will it be the same demons, perpetrators and eviserators from long to haunt and decimate… all martyrs are dead and there going to stay that way… wave after wave of fury crossing the bow till there is little more than charred husks and winking sighs…no more to behold, no more to see, no more…the universe was contracting as quickly as it had been set into expanding malice…the first blow struck revolution, the last bell resonant silence…to match the eyes and the doll faces of the perfect parents with the perfect teeth smiling upon the perfect children. long live rock!!!! What does an outsider stand for if they stand cooly on the inside…can you exist inside and outside simultaneously? or must our heroes forever be on the outside looking in? to prove what? and to whom? a broken ideal for which no rewards are given but grudging respect…the spirit breaks but the will is strong…as soft white light caressed their faces they knew that all was good and all would be forgiven, and that their echo would ring forever on and on…in dull cascades and numb electric parades, the true essence would distill and pervert, becoming an unrecognizable new art in it’s distortion…a boy holds his guitar in teenage arms and he is power…a man holds aloft a broken guitar and he is shattered… who will pick up the pieces this time? only God knows the true truth…from child to children passed above heads and hearts, beseeched to know and keep knowing…the revolution is never over, it is just beginning…funny how this revolution was televised and everybody got bored and changed the channel to what? chattering mannequins on angel dust and power prayer…whither winters past but we live on and on and on…again and again we are in cracks and rust and swinging screen doors, never to be forgotten…are you tired yet????

Part IV: Q: What is the official status of chapter 4? i.e., is it the apex of the mystery for which we are striving to solve, a fan collaborative that we have to create, a missing link that will never be found, or something else entirely? A: The title of chapter 4 is called “the true story of the machines” and it has yet to be released. I appreciate the fan collaborations, but the fans writing chapter 4 is not what I had in mind. don’t forget you are in the story, and trust me when I say that it is hard to write the play while you are acting in it.

Part V: The Story Of June (so far) she drew circles around her subjects and squares around here enemies woman eternal. restless with praise/resentful of penetrating worship but she often resembled a statue in a museum/june sat with zero the hero playing chess/everytime he would make a move she would pick up another of her chss pieces and put it in her mouth/the horses were made of chocolate which made them the easier to taste. but the white chocolate queen was still her favourite/just as he was ready to call check-mate she ate the jellybean king and claimed her victory right then and there/she always won, or he made her think that she did/as she was drinking a glass of mercury to wipe the taste and memory, a trumpet sounded thru the rubber walls/”oh” he said and they got up to go/”do i look alright” she asked to no one in particular as she gazed into an antique mirror/they moved silently/shoes scuffing grey concrete as the sounds grew with each step/a dis-embodied voice cooly announced “LADIES and gentlemen of all persuasion, please welcome to our stage tonight and tonight only, the machines/at which point he yawned louder than he spoke any of the words/polite applause followed the remaining ducks as they hopped off the stage and the machines took their spots all marked with an X/ruby took her place in the wings to see the look in the eyes of the feedback scarred/and somewhere somehow someone struck a note/after the show they beat the chess set to splinters with a railroad hammer, and rode silently back to their home/glass blew the dust off an old forgotten vinyl record by the sex animals, while his love snorted one more line to pass the time which by everyones watch was over/as the record skipped they made love as they always had/he felt her in his bones/she wanted what was his and his only/he could no longer tell if he was alive as before but it hardly mattered to no one in particular because everything was different anyhow/each time he bored with this game he thought up a better one and this gave him much satisfaction/a trumpet blared thru the thin plaster walls and they both nodded it was time to pay the rent/when the friends began to arrive they were asked by no one in particular to sit at the big oak table at all the wrong famous names/snaky tooth took churchills seat/thunder jack took disraeli’s gear/namel sat wherever she wanted of course/billy sat at the head of the table and put on the hat pointy that spelld dunce/everyone laughed like they were supposed to/two twins appeared and began to saw the legs off the table/somewhere somebody said “this should take a while” porcelin white from all the drugs, daphne was now a prisoner of her own success/*hrmphh* the father hurrumghed, “there is no such thing as success, only hard work and tears”/of course everyone agreed “once i was a little girl” she said to no one in particular, “and i had bright red shoes that my grandma, who we called nana, would shine, shine, shine all day long”/everyone agreed that she was still that little girl/when the table collapsed from too much sawing everyone yawned and got up. except for billy. who was still stuck in the most serious of thought/he did’nt see her leave and he would not hear her when she returned/that night he dreamt of his mother young and beautiful and she told him many secrets, mostly about love and how it was like watr that shined in the man/”cover your eyes son, cover your eyes!”

Part VI: Well, the I of the mourning is on! Are you ready for redemption? Then read on- this is a chapter six in a series of missives designed to speak directly to your heart on an issue most important to you – your salvation!! Many many years ago a child was born into a cold night – to some this beautiful child was blessed as any other, but not special. But to those who read the signs they knew a storm was coming! People, that child has come to these end times to deliver a message that must be heard! Do not shy away for this child is your child – for thou the truth may some times sting, eternal damnation is far, far worse!!! He says, “look to the I of the radio for all you seek the eye of the radio is everywhere, the maker of all that is real + all that is unseen. Be not afraid, for the I of the radio loves you and will always play your favourite songs. Everywhere you look there are reminders of a material world. It does not care about you. Why do you feel too big too small, too fat or too skinny, or are you too light or not dark enough??? Friends, where do you think these ideas come from? Why, a culture and civilization that makes money on our differences to exploit what we want the most – to belong!!! Let me tell you that you already do belong, for the I of the radio made us all different on purpose, so that no two should be a like. The I of the radio celebrates your individuality each snowflake, every flower every new dawn that brings light + life to this wonderful wonderful world. You are important!! Together we can move against these ominous forces to bring harmony to the chaos. Never forget the I of the radio is on, it never turns off!!! Coming soon!! (From this ministry) – Chapter 7: A happy ending?? Love life ambition, + piece? – is it possible in a modern world? – Is Rock n Roll bad for the soul? Or are we going to die for Rock n Roll?? – Happiness is a warm piece of bread! – False prophets + real deceivers! – They walk among us today! Restless children: their desires, wishes, dreams, and how to control them. God Bless You Friend!

The I of the Radio Ministries
Chicago, IL PO Box 57006

Part VII: A Happy Ending?? and so our story draws its final close, a million miles, a few smiles, and a pocketful of tears…all of it earned and burned strong into a consciousness like every living flashing star…all that was was left as perpetual myth, to twist in the wind laughing and wheezing until all could point and remember their stories, their movements, history as a claim they could all bear their own witness to…the body now ravaged but the spirit translucent and very much alive…like all poetry it would lose its place of meter over time, the rhymes and reasons would stale, leaving only pretty prose of frozen sentiment for a simpler, bygone era…it’s paper now, and you can do with it as you wish…no one soul need debate the dizzy purpose of the exercise, or the confusions that led them all thru thicker jungles…it is as it was, simply yours… the kids came and stole the show, naturally of course, when upon that hollowed stage the band strode as if any year, any time but now, but the final collapsing point did go noticed…weep your years and slit your wrists, curse your heroes and kick in the screens, the image stands…image upon image superimposed until all that was left was but greasy blur and a dull ache…but as each song tore each resonant after-image down, all that was left was very clear to see…the blueprint, the tabula rasa, the prayer as hymn had been in your palm all along…we never left… among these theories of delusion lay the simple heart of a simple man…maybe you know him, maybe you don’t, but it needn’t matter anyway because the tale told a thousand times was but one chapter in the long road…the fable that must know this end, in this moment had spun this simple man as gold, as eternal cold stop, as spinning fire-child, and as forever grasping animal…for even in war the most gentle of souls will let out a cry stabbing and cutting with all the passion a human being, all but dead, can muster up from rusty gut …let this tale end as it began…a soul alone in this world… heart connected to mouth, mouth to song, song to the heavens if only to tickle the very real ear of our divine creator… may the creator always spin back endless possibility and infinite potential…with this vibration in the timeless space, a mark is made to begin, so let this be the mark to end…in the void moments of madness, seeking and clutching, our simple man laughs out loud for all the world to hear…the drab crowd said shush and be quiet but it only made him laugh harder…for it really was funny, not because of a dumb joke or the wittiest remark but because he was having fun…it was all too simple and he really couldn’t believe hiseyes… now. here. always. you. “thank you God for all I am” …so at the last chord, in the last fade of sound, a stillness came and a peace they had all waited for for so long…one could dream that they would know what they would want now, and with good honor may our hero forge ahead… with love on your side anything is possible, even love… all wounds would hope to heal, the machines could stand down and sing their singsong whir to the wind, trees, and mother earth…it was a good day, and the night will hold quiet…his mother in dreams of good things…

A Modern Fable:Glass and The Machines of God:

somewhere in the not so distant future, we may find a world of not so subtle torments… for a midst the rubble of urban decay and barren wastelands find wander a billion shattered souls… disconnected from themselves by impersonal technologies and personal cause… one such soul is the center of our story, and his name is GLASS… he is the lead singer of THE MACHINES OF GOD, and he believes that GOD itself has asked him to try to change the world… this poses two simple questions : “what is important in a place such as this ?” and “is GLASS a prophet sage or just someone who has gone quite mad indeed ?!…”

but first we must go back into the decadent swirl of the past to set the stage for what is to come… you see, GLASS used to be named zero, and the band the smashing pumpkins, at least until zero convinced the band to change the name of the group… they were the biggest band in the world, so this was a very courageous move to make… one day zero had been alone in his house, quietly listening to the radio when a voice began to speak slowly and clearly to him… it was the voice he had heard since he was a child, but now it spoke to him thru the radio… this voice, which came to be known as the I OF THE RADIO, told zero that his life was predestined, and in order to fulfill his destiny he would need to devote his life to a much higher calling, one that would look beyond the material trappings of the occluded world… this epiphany that he was indeed important was a life changing and soul shattering experience, giving him new found confidence and spiritual purpose… he finds sudden clarity in his spirit, but can now see the utter shallowness of his real (and particularly) public life… this sudden change causes many around him to distrust where all of this is coming from… but his band stands with him when he changes his name to GLASS and rechristens the band the now aptly titled MACHINES OF GOD…

in his heart however, GLASS secretly questions why he has been chosen… he is both enamoured and flattered by the idea, but at the same time is innately resistant to the responsibilities that this will bring… in his mind, god has aligned himself with GLASS, and GLASS has aligned himself with god… a messenger he shall be, but he is just a c.o.g. within another c.o.g. within another machine ?… he decides to use the instrument of his band to spread the truth of life and that love and love and only love can be the answer… so our story begins with GLASS AND THE MACHINES OF GOD at the height of their material powers, with the most devoted fans in the world, and having just changed the name of the band, releasing their new album, entitled MACHINA…

for years our hero has searched for his true love, the woman of his dreams, JUNE… he called her by many names hoping that there somewhere out there she waited for him too… so one night after a concert, he saw her, and right then and there knew he had finally found her… JUNE was his perfect reflection, everything that he was not… she brings to him the universal truths of life and living, and a life he has never had… what he does not realize then is that he has fallen in love with a reflection of himself… she embodies the darkness he can only write about… so for one short period of time, our hero once zero feels complete and whole, with god and a woman by his side…

GLASS finds himself increasingly torn between his new love and his true calling as a messenger… he doesn’t realize that he really doesn’t have to make a choice between the light and her darkness… he tries to find balance between his humanity and his spiritual pursuits… unknown to GLASS, the hedonism and electric energy of GLASS’ accelerated world fuel JUNE’s ever increasing secret drug problems… GLASS comes home one night to find JUNE in a drugged haze, a vinyl record hissing endlessly on the out groove… JUNE is so out of it that she doesn’t recognize GLASS at all, as he calls to her to come back to him… the truth revealed, GLASS sits next to her and, in a rare moment of candor, reveals that god has been speaking to him thru the radio, knowing full well that JUNE probably won’t remember the conversation… despite that, GLASS reveals that he has doubts about the validity of the messages and wonders if he is going insane… GLASS decides because he loves her so, he will try to save her as he is trying to save everyone else, with the power of his healing… GLASS is now on a crusade to save everyone in his life ; his band, his girl, his audience, and consequently the world… the only problem is that he has forgotten to save himself…

GLASS begins to lose his balance on both ends when he becomes over righteous and indignant in his beliefs, alienating those who already believe in him and turning off potential new converts… GLASS sees himself as some sort of cosmic preacher, and if he just shouts loud enough the message will somehow get thru the din… JUNE, finding the solace and power in GLASS that she couldn’t muster on her own, begins to believe that she does not need him anymore… she has taken her fill from his light, and like so many others that have taken from GLASS, question whether they ever needed him at all… GLASS begins to bitter as the prospect that he is being toyed with and used by god and JUNE… slowly, GLASS begins to lose faith in his seemingly unshakeable beliefs… he becomes paranoid, believing that everyone is out to get him… the new album is released and is not well received by the fans or the general public… for the first time since the band began, GLASS is publicly humiliated… he begins to question the validity of the messages, thinking perhaps they are from a false god or that his filters of perception are misaligned… he begins to descend into madness, accusing JUNE of disloyalty… in one final argument, she admits she never loved him at all, and that she did hear him tell her about being spoken to by god, and that she believes he is insane… she tells him goodbye for the last time and storms off into the rainy night… she loses control of her car, and is killed when it skids off the road… GLASS blames god for the loss of JUNE, idealizing his time with her because he can not let go of what her vision means to his faith… he blames the fans for their betrayal at not supporting and following the bands new direction… inconsolable, and without informing the MACHINES, GLASS impulsively tells an audience one night that the band is going to break up and will only play one more final, and sadly tragic show…

the night before the final concert, GLASS has a prophetic dream that he is a soldier in a war… he wears a uniform, but does not know who the enemy is or even what side he is fighting for… he wanders the empty streets, gun in hand, looking for anyone at all… in a dark stairwell he meets a faceless soldier who takes him by the hand into a dusky basement… the soldier does not speak, and together they sit underneath a single hanging bulb… he is just an animal, seeking shelter, warmth, food, and love… this dream, and the MACHINES final concert send GLASS into a disturbing tailspin… he feels truly and utterly alone…

after the final concert GLASS is quickly forgotten by the public, and he takes a long living in an empty warehouse away from anyone at all… he has always felt alone, but now all of the things that gave him strength, focus, and identity are gone… he faces his own doubt and mortality for the first time… he begins to walk by himself at dawn thru the walking streets, and slowly finds an inner peace with his spirit… he begins to forgive and accept the things that have happened to him, and understand that his desire to find perfection above his own humanity led him to things that he did not really want or need… he begins to love and empathize with others without fear of consequence, and so in his aloneness realizes that he was never really alone at all… GOD has always been with him, and always will be… and so in this moment he fulfills his destiny, both for himself and for GOD…

Artwork by Vasily Kafanov

“Isn’t this where the Beatles grew up?” inquires Billy Corgan from the stage of the underworld club in London’s Camden town. His 4-piece Chicago band Smashing Pumpkins are half way through their UK debut. The place is heaving. Billy hasn’t lost his sense of humor anyway. It’s buzzing so hard in here the narcissistic crowd drown out the Pumpkins’ quiet pastoral passages. But cast ye not your pearls before swine, matey, these Pumpkins will smash you to a pulp before the end of the number!

With a nod of the head they crash simultaneously into a maelstrom of a climax. Upfront the head-bangers go ape! The soundman lights another stick of incense to mask the beer and sweat. Confusingly, his t-shirt reads “Fuck off…We’re from Texas”!

Confused? You won’t be if you get your ears around the album Gish, released in the UK in September on HUT (through distributor APT). Gish is a great debut by anyone’s standards. It courses bewitchingly through vein and brain. High impact rock-pools ripple outward, octanes multiplying. Into fierce feedback sorties, in the words of Jimi Hendrix, “…not necessarily stoned…but beautiful.”

Head Pumpkin Billy Corgan’s tortuous four months in the studio (he co-produced Gish) beats the hell out of paying a trick cyclist: “it’s that perfection thing,” he muses, “it’s that Todd Rungren thing. You name it, we did it-hard, intense-we did every part over until it was RIGHT! It’s such an ambiguous thing, y’know, music, the band, you never know where you are, where to draw the line, until you get into the studio, to make a single, or album, or whatever; after years of thinking about it, writing and playing, then you have to draw the line somewhere, but where? I should’ve gone to see a psychiatrist!” flaxen haired groovy chick bassist D’Arcy giggles, “yeah, instead you went and got your palm read!”

This is the first time in London for the whole band: Billy, James, D’arcy and Jimmy. Released earlier in the states, Gish went to No. 1 on the influential Rockpool college radio chart and inspired a hat full of rave notices.

“We didn’t come outta nowhere, despite appearances,” elaborates Billy. “We’ve been working hard in Chicago for a couple of years, promoting ourselves. Y’know, I had a hundred people tell me ‘you’ll never make it out of Chicago!”

So welcome to the UK where Gish has only recently been released (it came out in June 1991 on Caroline Records in the US).

“Yeah, we’re really peaking in America right now-so we come here and no one knows who we are!” laughs James.

“But, y’know, its great this thing in the states, its reinforcing what we’re doing, its a nice pat on the head, which is not the best rationale, I know, because if no one cared, we’d still have to reinforce what we do! But it helps to make us want to push the frontier, push a little harder, push our music even extreme, different, more out on a limb…hopefully!” explains Billy. “It was very important for me to make the album sound EXACTLY how I wanted it to sound-not homogenize it by mixing it how everybody mixes. I mean if you listen to a lot of records, I hear a lot of current releases, and its like ‘the big-drum sound’, ‘the same guitar sound’, y’know? Most people don’t know this, but like 80/90% of the records you hear today have the sampled drums on. Even if it’s a live band, the drums are sampled, and triggered so every drum sound sounds perfect! All the drums you hear on Gish are actual drums, in a room, not processed, not fucked with-the guitars are the actual sound. Where a lot of people cut corners, go ‘well whatever’ I said this is exactly what I want and we’d work at it and work at it, until we got exactly the sound that I was happy with. I wanted to make an organic rock record. It’s important to get into a studio and then forget it’s a studio as much as you can, y’know, and try and not let the environment impose.”

Gish was made at Butch Vig’s smart studios in “beautiful Madison” WI, a two and half hour drive north of Chicago: “We’d drive up there for four days, come home for three, drive up for 4. The whole thing took from December 1990 to March 1991 and because $20,000.” This is quite a modest budget nowadays. Butch Vig, the album’s co-producer with Billy, has previously worked on the “guttural blast” of Killdozer and TAD. How did the Pumpkins hook up with Mr. Vig?

“Just a phone call really,” says James. “People had suggested to us working with him before.”

A local Chicago record man and ally of the band, Mike Potential, sent Butch an early demo he liked, so when they put in the vital call, it was that simple; Butch wanted to work with them anyway. “This was before he became a BIG producer,” smiles Billy, “now he’s on his way to being a HUGE producer. He just finished the new Nirvana record and a lot of people are going to be after him when they hear that record.”

But lets now go right back to the band’s beginnings and Chicago. Billy Corgan, despite being the son of a professional jazz guitarist, is self-taught and grew up listening to British rock, Ozzy, Black Sabbath, and only played in one other band before Smashing Pumpkins. Called The Marked, he describes their music as “Hindu-influenced gloom.” He met James, also a Chicagoan, who was weaned on UK rock too: Ozzy, Sabbath, plus The Who, Led Zep and Pink Floyd. They began writing and playing around until Billy literally bumped into D’arcy outside a Chicago nightclub. She missed her flight out of Chicago and was staying with friends. “I was sick of playing in my bedroom,” remembers Billy, “so when I found out she played bass and guitar I invited her into the band so we could get out and gig.” With a drum machine, they first played at the Avalon in Chicago in 1988 and started making demos. Joe Shanahan, the owner of a local club The Metro, liked the tape and offered them a gig if they got a live drummer, recommending Jimmy Chamberlin, a native of Joliet, a town just south of Chicago. Jimmy joined for The Metro gig, and although he wasn’t particularly impressed with their standard of musicianship, he stuck it out and became an important establishing force during those formative months. Shanahan was completely taken in with their sound, and continued to book them into The Metro, offering them support slots to the Buzzcocks, Jane’s Addiction and Petrol Emotion, among others.

Billy picks up the thread, “A&R guys always put Chicago down, they had a very bad stigma about anything quality coming out of Chicago. I mean inside Chicago is a dead music town. I mean there are bands doing well from Chicago, touring around the world and stuff, but in itself, it’s not a good place to work as a band-it’s difficult. In twenty years, one major record label has put a base in Chicago! There’s another one now, I think, but it’ll last about a year and the guy probably won’t sign anyone. Most of the bands from Chicago are very short-sighted, and they don’t see a future. A label wants a band with vision, a band that’s going to mean something in 1992, a band of the future. I mean not bands that would like, y’know, uhhh, I mean, Chicago has got eight thousand replacements and two thousand husker du’s. Nobody cares.”

“So the very fact that Joe Shanahan and Mike Potential picked up on you, I mean, Joe said this is important, this is different, and the fact that he’d never done that before and he runs The Metro, so not only does he see every band in Chicago, but he sees every band passing through. Every band touring, on the way up, plays The Metro, and he’s dealing with all this. It’s a great club, a great room, there are all these people around, and he turns around for the first time and says ‘here’s a band I really believe in’. Y’know, he’s got no management in us or anything; there’s no financial connection. Nothing-he just dug us, like a favor. So his validation of what we did at least got people to listen to the tape. I mean if the demo tape had sucked then it wouldn’t have mattered what Joe had said, but you know, what happened is that people listened to the tape and said, ‘well, this is kind of different,’ and that’s what started the ball rolling.”

The original demo included material on the current album Gish. “Tracks were recorded on a 16-track in a guy’s basement,” says James. “There’s I Am One, Rhinoceros, Bury Me, Daydream, and those tapes are still out there somewhere!” “You’d only be disappointed,” replies Billy. “But, you know, it was a very important time for us when everything started to converge.”

Mike Potential, the local record man, put out the first Smashing Pumpkins single, a 7″ only, which coupled I Am One with Not Worth Asking (limited potential records Spring 1990). It sold out its 1500 pressings and is now worth 20 pounds-if you can find it. The only previous material issued “before we got our feet on the ground” says James, are two tracks on a Chicago compilation Light Into Dark (Halo records 1989). “A better compilation the Pravada came out in 1991″ adds James, “and that has us doing a cover of the Ozark Mountain Daredevils’ ‘Jackie Blue’. I don’t even know if you can find one in the UK!”

Meanwhile Mr. Potential was pushing the band and the Seattle-based label Sub Pop heard the single. Sub Pop became interested and the group talked about going to Seattle and playing some shows. “We were kind of hoping for an album deal, y’know,” continues Billy. “And originally we were going to do a singles club thing for Sub Pop, but finally we put out Tristessa and La Dolly Vita in September 1990. It did really well on a pressing of 7500, and the Sub Pop affiliation really helped. It created a general interest and definitely helped us to get national. About the same time, Caroline got interested in us and major labels started to pop up all over the place. This onslaught! We just kept practicing!”

Smashing Pumpkins knew that they were going to make that album, but it was a case of waiting, sifting through information, deciding which company to go with. A strange period for any band.

“We’d, like, hear that these A&R people are going to show up at this gig…y’know, like, ‘you better be ready!’ I mean we tried to be very very careful not to fuck up. We definitely held back on live work. We played it the opposite. We refused to go anywhere to showcase. We said, ‘if you want to see us, you’re going to have to come to Chicago.’ It’s a weird time, y’know, because all of a sudden it’s perceived momentum. It’s not even *real* momentum, it’s perceived momentum. You have to watch out for that! This was about the time that management stepped in through Andy Gershon of Raymond Coffer Management, and they gave us another level of credibility-because I mean, here’s this guy managing the Cocteau Twins, Love and Rockets, and all of a sudden he wants this American band from Chicago! Not some Cocteau Twins imitator from the East Coast, but these guys from Chicago! So that really created a different aura around us. Suddenly, we’re having shows in Chicago and there’s 14 A&R guys from all over flying in to see us!”

Finally, Smashing Pumpkins signed to Caroline, an independent distributor in America, and a company that would give them the space they required. “To be totally honest,” says Billy, “if we had signed straight off to a major corporation, I don’t think Gish would’ve been as good as it is. I mean whether anybody thinks it’s good on a relative scale, I think it would’ve been stifled in a lot of ways. Y’know, they would’ve tried to make me shorten the songs, blah-blah-blah, whatever else they do to make an album more palpable for the ears.”

D’Arcy chips in, “yeah, how can you concentrate with record people in the studio, looking over your shoulder, how can they do that? I mean, get outta my face!”

The Smashing Pumpkins were left to their own devices. It shows.

Source: Starla.org

Are rock bands meant to last 20 years?

“No, no, they’re not,” Billy Corgan said backstage Monday at the Auditorium Theatre. Which sounds a little odd coming from someone whose band, the Smashing Pumpkins, had just completed its 20th-anniversary tour with a triumphant performance short on hits but long on drama and daring.

The tour was never smooth, with Corgan baiting his fans as much as sating them with a handful of Pumpkins oldies. When the Pumpkins opened a series of homecoming shows a few weeks ago, the 41-year-old west suburban native finished off the opening night at the Chicago Theatre with a combination rant/comedic monologue that angered many in his audience. “What do you want from us?” Corgan said with mock exasperation while fans booed or streamed toward the exits.

But on Monday the Pumpkins embraced delicate ballads, scorched-earth rockers and expansive psychedelia with authority. Corgan was in an affable mood, and the band ended the show by reaching into a coffin and tossing Christmas presents to the cheering fans.

It was a final joke from an artist who has always taken his work very, very seriously — to the point of self-destructiveness. The 20th-anniversary tour and Corgan’s confrontational onstage antics are merely the latest examples of the band’s polarizing impact.

Musically, the Pumpkins can still swing the heavy lumber. Only Corgan and Jimmy Chamberlin, the master drummer, remain from the original band. James Iha and D’Arcy Wretzky are long gone. The Pumpkins broke up in 2000, and Corgan says the “door was left open” for Iha and Wretzky to return when the band reassembled in 2005. But things didn’t work out, and Jeff Schroeder and Ginger Reyes were enlisted to take their places.

The band’s 2007 comeback album, “Zeitgeist,” sank without a trace, but the retooled Pumpkins have developed a chemistry and power on the road since then.

Corgan, wrapped in a bathrobe and towels while chowing down on a post-concert steak, was upbeat and combatively optimistic about the future of Pumpkins Mach II. His message: We’re not a nostalgia band. “It’s not old band versus new band,” he says. “It’s new band or no band.”

“Calling it a 20th-anniversary tour, people expected greatest hits,” he says. “The casual fan who comes in and just wants to see the hits, they were not having it. But we’ve seen a real reactivation in the hard-core fan base.”

Q. Did the hostility of some of the audiences bother you?

A: No, what bothers me is the notion that we’re done. We didn’t come back for the cash; we came back to be great again. It made me mad that people thought we’re done, that we don’t have a future. Get out. We don’t want you. We’ve never been that band. That happy band. We picked up where we left off. We’re not the retirement band playing our old hits. … I don’t give a [expletive] that most of my heroes got lame when they turned 40. I spent most of the last decade thinking about that. Why do they go from this insanely high level of work to diminished echoes of the past? And I think it’s a coziness thing. You do something amazing, and you don’t want to lose the crowd that tells you that’s amazing. You’re out in the cold. Well, we like to be out in the cold. We’re done with the record business, so we’re free to do whatever I want.

Q. So “Zeitgeist” was the last album?

A: We’re done with that. There is no point. People don’t even listen to it all. They put it on their iPod, they drag over the two singles and skip over the rest. The listening patterns have changed, so why are we killing ourselves to do albums, to create balance and do the arty track to set up the single? It’s done.

Q. People are still talking about that show you did a few weeks ago at the Chicago Theatre.

A: Energy we can do something with. Apathy we can’t work with. Who’s above us? Who’s lighting the culture on fire? Nobody. We don’t have to live in that world. We have the biggest manager [Irving Azoff] in the world. He tells us we can get there, we will get there. We will crack the egg like we did in ’92, without doing something embarrassing like working with Timbaland. We will find how to do our thing and make it work. I can write songs. We’re big boys. We’ll do it. Last time I talked with you, I said we’re going to come back and make a better album. The album we made surprised us. We kept going back to this primitive thing. We wanted to do “Siamese Dream II.” Elaborate, orchestrated, but it wasn’t coming from me. It put us back in this organic process, and in this position of fighting back to why we do what we do.

Q. Why’d you break up the Pumpkins in 2000?

A: The real story was Iha was driving me out of my mind. He was so negative. The guy literally drove me insane. When I walked out of that band, I didn’t know what to do anymore. I didn’t have a direction, a central focus. I wandered through different things, but I couldn’t find that central thing. As soon as I got back in the band my brain started working again. I was engaged again.

Q. Did you make a sincere attempt to invite back Iha and Wretzky?

A: Sincere in the sense that we have to allow them the opportunity. They have the right to at least have the conversation. We said the door’s open. We were met with complete indifference. D’Arcy doesn’t care. And James, it was a money thing.

Q. But why call it the Pumpkins? It gives people a chance to doubt the band’s legitimacy and your motives.

A: It’s my band. Anyone who doubts the legitimacy of this band can go [expletive] themselves. That’s old thinking about bands. Show me any band that lasts for any tenure, they don’t have the original members. This world doesn’t care about that. They just want to hear the songs. They got karaoke singers now fronting big bands.

Q. You said a few years ago that you were going to try and keep your mouth shut and let the music be the story. But that hasn’t been the case.

A: I tried that for a while, and it wasn’t working. I’m cemented in an image. I have to move to France to change that. I’m not a humble musician, but I am a humble human being. I have perspective; I have God in my life. [In the band] we talk a lot about spirituality and about why God made us musicians and why we’re here to do what we do. And we have decided in our estimation that God put us here to try new things, and be innovators. With all that’s going on in the world, is that the worst thing?

Q. That would seem to be the artist’s role.

A: Let me be blunt. When Bruce Springsteen puts out a new album, I pay attention. Same with Neil Young. Because they’re major artists who have something to say. I consider us in that category. When we do something it should be taken seriously, even when we’re off. If we’re marginalized by the culture, we’re not going to play dead and say thank you for our B-plus status. I poured my blood into my songs. I’ve had a bad marriage and seven bad girlfriends in a row. I make sacrifices to do my work. That’s not victim talk; that’s nobody’s fault; that’s a choice I made for me.

Source: Chicago Tribune

Beak: What’s your favorite fruit?
D’arcy: I don’t know.

Beak: What is it like to own a record label?
D’arcy: Now that’s uh, that would take a while, it’s more fun than I thought it would be.

Beak: How did you learn to play bass?
D’arcy: Self taught.

Beak: Bikini’s or briefs?
D’arcy: Oh…

Beak: You don’t have to answer.
D’arcy: Definitely… you mean boxers?

Beak: Yeah, we ask all the guys.
D’arcy: I’d have to say boxers.

Beak: What’s the best thing about being a girl?
D’arcy: Ha,ha,ha,ha…ha,ha,ha…
(Big interruption by fans asking for autographs)
D’arcy: Was that all or did you have more?

Beak: Actually there’s a few more… what’s the worst thing about being a girl?
D’arcy: Ha,ha,ha, (thinking) ha,ha, I can’t think of anything right now.

Beak: What’s your favorite animal?
D’arcy: I like all animals.

Beak: What’s the first thing you would grab if your house was on fire?
D’arcy: My husband.

Source: Pumpkin Dreams

Q: When was the last time that you cried?

A: Lately it seems like I’ve been crying a lot. It’s better now, but every week for the past four months there seems to be some traumatic thing happening to the people around me. Like people finding out they have cancer, people dying, and people having strokes. Just one thing after another. I felt like I was losing my mind. And then my puppy died. She was just a year old, and she was my baby. And I’m going to cry about right now if we talk about it, so what’s the next question?

Q: The last person that you fantasized about?

A: My husband. I never get to see him! We’ve been together about three-and-a-half years and married for a year-and-a-half. It’s tough, but we have a really good relationship and we’re apart a lot because he’s in a band too, but when we’re together we have really good quality time, instead of us both having nine-to-five jobs and coming home and hating life and taking it out on each other every day.

Q: The last time alcohol made you sick?

A: I’m not sure if it was food poisoning, alcohol poisoning, a hangover or all three. It was about a week ago at home. My husband’s band are recording their album at our home studio, and I was doing back-up vocals. They had a bottle of Jack Daniel’s there, and I was saying how it didn’t make you drunk, just warm and cozy… and an hour later I was staggering all over the place. I didn’t throw up, but I was really, really sick the next day. I usually drink wine or clear liquor.

Q: The last time that you told a lie?

A: Hmmm. I think when people know me, I’m pretty much an open book. If I don’t want someone to know something, I don’t lie. I just don’t talk about it. Or I tell partial truths. I try hard to be honest, actually.

Q: The last band that blew you away?

A: OK, I’ll give you a plug, but it’s the honest to God truth. Fulflej, from Richmond, Virginia, are on this label Scratchie that I have with James (Iha, Smashing Pumpkins guitarist) and my brother-in-law, and they are the most fucking real thing. The guys are all brilliant, they’re at college and the speak Chinese, and the singer is a diabetic black belt in karate. They’re way out there and they’re so proficient. I’m afraid that you people aren’t going to get it, because I think you have to know something about the structure of music to get them. They have really crazy time changes, and they play some really, really long songs. But you wouldn’t want to change them at all. And I love Screaming Trees and Flaming Lips.

Q: The last person who really inspired you?

A: The girl who’s playing bass for David Bowie right now is amazing. She’s so proficient, but she’s not this cold, studio technical person. She has so much soul and she can sing like a motherfucker. When she plays, she and her bass guitar are like, one thing. So many times I feel completely stagnated but the bass and mostly I just wanted to sing when I was younger. Regular guitar intimidated me. This woman is so amazing, but I still don’t know if I feel inspired enough to practice. I don’t think I’ll ever be like her. And I don’t think I’ll ever sing much with Smashing Pumpkins. I was really pissed off actually, cos I spent 24 hours getting the back-up vocals for the album to match Billy’s perfectly, and they were cut. I feel like I’m being used sometimes. Like an enhancement for his voice or something. And it really pisses me off.

Q: The last time that you had a fight with Billy Corgan?

A: Not for the longest time. It’s really weird, most bands start off as buddies and end up hating each other, and now we’re really close friends. Communication’s really hard,but even when you can’t do that you just have to accept people. It’s really hard for me. I don’t have a lot of close friends because I have a very high standard of what I expect behaviorally, and loyalty-wise from people. But I know who I can count on.

Q: The last time that you were bored?

A: When you’re on tour it’s like, “hurry up and wait”. It’s terrible, you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. So I just fall asleep if I get bored. I’ve done it during interviews, because the questions are so boring. I used to do it in geometry at school. I had this teacher with a monotone voice, and now it’s happening again. With interviews. I can’t control it, it’s like narcolepsy or something. I’ve tried talking to the band about it but I don’t think they really believe me, or understand. It’s basically a conditioned response.

Q: The last time that you were jealous?

A: I don’t really get jealous. Sometimes I get envious of someone I admire. But jealousy is so horrible. It possesses you. It’s ugly, because it’s so out of control.

Q: The last piece of clothing that you bought?

A: I bought this silver shirt recently. I got it in New York, when I was power shopping, for the ‘Saturday Night Live’ TV show, and it’s very uncomfortable. I ended up not wearing it, actually. If it’s hot, the shirt’s really hot, and if it’s cold, it’s really cold. If I tuck it into my jeans, it feels like somebody took a cookie and just crumbled it in my pants.

Q: Your last regret?

A: I don’t have many regrets. I can’t really regret things because I have such a bad memory. I never wanted to come to Europe to do this press trip, but I didn’t have an option. Still, that’s not really a regret. I’ll have to go back to my puppy soon cause I left her in the care of someone else. Whenever I go away, I come home to a pile of shit. You can’t trust anybody. Being at work is more like being on vacation than being at home these day’s. I had this assistant and she was whacked out of her mind on prescription drugs……

Source: Pumpkin Dreams

Billy Corgan calls “Oceania,” the Smashing Pumpkins’ first studio album since 2007, “an anti-mid-life crisis album.”

Whatever it’s called, the new album due out Tuesday represents Corgan’s best work since the ’90s, when the Pumpkins were among the most successful bands of their time. The band broke up in 2000, and to hear Corgan tell it, he’s spent most of the last decade figuring out how to create fresh music out from under the shadow of that legacy without fully letting go of it.

He says that after reuniting with original Pumpkins drummer Jimmy Chamberlin in 2005, he realized that he was holding on to an idea of the band caught between unrealistic expectations (repeating the success and sound of the Pumpkins 1993 breakthrough, “Siamese Dream”) and his own nostalgia-loathing intentions.

He’s in the midst of writing what he describes as a “spiritual memoir,” and it’s causing him to “dredge up stuff from the past I wish I had forgotten. This album is basically my way of saying I don’t want to carry this stuff anymore. I don’t want to carry (original Pumpkins members Chamberlin, James Iha and D’Arcy Wretzky) forward anymore. It’s done. I couldn’t have made ‘Oceania’ if I didn’t let go of that band.”

Chamberlin and Corgan parted ways in 2009, soon after a tumultuous tour that found the singer verbally tussling with his audience. For a 20th anniversary Pumpkins tour, many fans were expecting a greatest-hits retrospective. Corgan instead presented a deep dive into his music, in which the beloved ’90s singles were balanced by deep cuts and plenty of new tracks. The often-hostile reaction led him to “blow up the band” so that he could start fresh.

Corgan rebuilt the Pumpkins with young guns: guitarist Jeff Schroeder, bassist Nicole Fiorentino and drummer Mike Byrne. The imperative was not only to re-energize the audience, but “to reconnect with that part of me that made me want to make music in the first place.” In an interview, he described the process:

Q: A few years ago, you said the album was dead, and you begin releasing your music song by song on-line. What changed your mind?

A: We did a radio tour, one of those b.s. things — if you go play a radio station’s party with seven other terrible bands, they’ll play your record. We’re playing and we’re looking out at 18- and 20-year-olds and they don’t care. What is this? How do you win this? You don’t. We basically sat down and said, ‘This is it. This is boring.’ So what do we do to actually change this? Only thing that made sense was to make an album. Can you make an album that is so strong that it reignites the flame within you and the audience? Is that even culturally possible? We went to Sedona (a studio in Sedona, Ariz., with longtime producer and engineer Bjorn Thorsrud) for a while to work. It was small steps. I can write songs, I can always write songs. That’s been part of the problem. Maybe I write too many songs and put them out loosey goosey. So let’s get down to it and challenge ourselves. It takes so much psychic energy to do this. I did this album for a year, 12 hours a day. I understand how it gets tough for people when they reach a certain age and you just don’t want to work that hard because it’s easier not to. We could’ve made a lot of money playing the nostalgia shows. I cut that road off. It was do it this way or die.

Q: So you want to get the feeling of 1995 back, but you want it to do it with new music?

A: I want the new feeling. Picasso did some of his best work in his 90s. Neil Young is making some of his best music now. I don’t want to be 25 again. There are people out there who are older who are cool. I want that. Music is your guide. At the heart of Jimmy Page is the 14-year-old playing skiffle and trying to figure out Scotty Moore licks in his bedroom. The year 1995 for me was miserable in some ways. I just dream of having a voice in the conversation. Not being written off by the bloggers as some grandpa who keeps showing up at the buffet table.

Q: How’d you rediscover that feeling?

A: I’ve found peacefulness in myself where I found I didn’t have to be more than or less than. Be yourself moment to moment. Go left, right, and in between. You like keyboards, guitars, loud stuff, quiet stuff. Just go with it. Stop over thinking it. It’s very similar to the way I worked in the ’90s.

Q: So you’re saying you lost that in the last decade? Why?

A: I got away from that to teach myself a few things. I’m a bit weird. I’m the guy who would be bored with two on two basketball, so I’d play against four guys to make it interesting. I’ve done a lot of that in (2005 solo album) “The Future Embrace,” (2003 band project ) Zwan – working within concepts of limitation. Can I box my way out of this corner? I think this is the first time I’ve made a record where I didn’t box myself in. If it sounds like Frank Zappa one minute and Vangelis the next, OK.

Q: How were your earlier records boxed in? Whatever people say about them, the Pumpkins were definitely their own thing through much of the ’90s.

A: I said this to the current band the other day. The “Siamese Dream” band didn’t exist. I created that band and then we learned how to be that band after the record. I expressed to (producer Butch Vig) an idealized vision. A beautiful, silver version of the Smashing Pumpkins that did not exist. It was a movie. The videos, the success enhanced and filled in the gaps. (The 1995 album “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness”) is a much more accurate portrayal, it’s the band as we really were — mean, dark. (The 1991 album “gish”) is me trying to be somebody, “Siamese Dream” is me trying to create something, “Mellon Collie” is the band unvarnished. “Siamese Dream” was me working within my own and Butch’s straitjacket. (Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain) went through it, with the idealized version of Nirvana on “Nevermind” and the unvarnished version on “In Utero” with (Steve) Albini. Finally you reach a point where it’s over, the game doesn’t work, Smashing Pumpkins is dead. I couldn’t just flip the switch and be great. So is there nothing in this for me? You walk away or try to make it for you. The difference for me is that at 45 I feel I have to deliver or you don’t get another chance. Our axiom for “Oceania” was you have one chance. Don’t expect anyone to listen seven times. They’ll listen one time if you’re lucky.

Q: When things are working, great artists say they reflect their audience. Do you feel you’re still in touch with your audience?

A: I feel I’m reflecting the part of the audience we don’t hear from. There are a lot of people out there who love music but don’t have a place in music culture as it exists. I meet these people all the time. Soccer mom, 34, has good taste in music. They are your average rock fan who isn’t part of the Pitchfork culture. They don’t follow the train. They’re the difference between 40,000 sales and 400,000. We’ve disenfranchised that part of the culture by playing to the (snobby, snarky) crowd. The Internet has swelled that (expletive) crowd. The crowd that trashes what you do instantly and writes you off. It’s like the ’90s indie-rock crowd all over again: Don’t look this way, don’t dress this way, don’t play long guitar solos, whatever. But there are people out there in their teens who found Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd, they don’t care that those bands don’t exist anymore. They exist in their computer. They’re finding this other value system that isn’t contemporary. It’s a wider scope. The unspoken audience, the stragglers, and this new audience who isn’t snarky or cares much about modern record business, that’s our audience.

Q: You spent a lot of time in the last decade working to get a band up to speed. But people feel it’s you who call all the shots. How much a part of this album is the band?

A: The album tells the best version of the story. People have a general misunderstanding of what I do, like I’m standing in the back directing things. The behind the scenes pace of the way we work is different. It’s hard to translate. But they’re playing on the album. This is not one of those things where in 10 years I’m going to say I actually played all the instruments (laughs).

Q: What’s the main difference between this album and (2007 Pumpkins comeback album) “Zeitgeist”?

A: “Zeitgeist,” in retrospect, is the death album — the last album of the Smashing Pumpkins era. It just took seven years to come out. I went in with a very naive idea. Everyone wants me to make “Siamese Dream” again, which equated in my mind to a bunch of loud guitars, with that as a transition into a new era. It was like “Indiana Jones” Part 3. You play to an expectation. The smart move when we got back together would’ve been to do a greatest hits album, a greatest hits money tour, then do a new album. I didn’t do that — much to the consternation of Jimmy (Chamberlin) and my management, because I left millions of dollars on the table. But my plan didn’t work either. When I made “Siamese Dream,” I was taking LSD, crashing on people’s couches, broken-hearted over a girl who later became my wife. You can’t be that again. It’s disrespectful to your own past to think you can relive your own past. I kept saying to Jimmy, where is the psychedelia? Because I always felt that was the heart of our sound. So I got rid of things, until it became this very primal music, one angry guitar and one angry drummer. I tried to build on that. But my relationship with Jimmy was broken. I didn’t want to admit it. He would’ve been happy to keep it going and I had the blinders on and was marching forward. I just stepped in the wrong mudhole. But I learned some things. I came across an apathetic audience, and it ignited something in me. It brought back that old “(expletive) you.”

Q: Things got hostile during that 2008 tour. You were pretty abusive toward the audience, and some people still haven’t forgotten that or forgiven you. It reminded me of some weird, uncomfortable Andy Kaufman skit.

A: It’s (pro) wrestling (laughs). I’m in character. Even Jimmy Chamberlin believed it. All he saw was money going down the drain. I’m a weirdo like Wayne (Coyne) from the Flaming Lips. He’ll be the guy in the bubble floating above the audience and I’ll be the guy in the black dress on stage. There’s a saying in wrestling where you start to live your gimmick. On the road, I’m in character, at home I’m with my cats playing Xbox. Is it smart? No. Is it compelling? At times. But I needed to do it.

Q: It was your way of blowing it up?

A: It’s an unconscious expression. I still remember standing on that stage in Chicago (in 2008). The band and the audience are getting more uncomfortable, and there’s little Billy in the center with his microphone. I want to be in the moment. If that had been a super warm crowd I wouldn’t have reacted like that. The show we did at the Riviera last year, that was one of the warmest crowds I’ve ever played for in 25 years. It’s irksome for me as an artist for my life to be reduced to a song, or a moment, a performance. That’s not me. I’ve left a lot of money on the table by being a weirdo, but I’m still here.

Q: There’s inherent tension between the guy who’s weird, the outsider willing to alienate your audience, and the one who also wants to be part of the conversation, at the center of the culture. How do you resolve that?

A: I wanted to be from the normal “Leave it to Beaver” family and wasn’t. I was being singled out about my birth mark, I was too tall, too weird. From the start I was on the outside. Maybe everyone goes through it. But I turned it into a narrative that is in my DNA. All the local bands were talking (expletive) about us when we started to get big. We were very isolated. We go to New York for the first time in 1990, it’s Sonic Youth land. Again we don’t fit. We go in with an adaptable sense of if we don’t belong, we’re going to storm your stage. You really want to be accepted, but you do this pose to get through.

Q: So how do you measure this album, whether it’s successful or not? Through sales, or something else?

A: “Oceania” I think is going to turn the corner, and we’re going to be positive for a while. I have to fight the temptation to blow it up. Maybe it’s self-destructive. But if reaction so far can be a gauge, we’ve done something good. Hard core hater fans are liking it. People default to what they know when you don’t give them something powerful. But if you give them something powerful, they all crawl back. We’re all going through this collective identity crisis. We’re online forming new personalities. The systems of things we used to count on, are breaking down, and it’s a free for all. Success is how do we survive that. Success isn’t record sales, it’s street cachet. The temperature of the Pumpkins right now is pretty good. Six months ago, not so good. Two years ago, it was down the tubes. With this group we’ve rebuilt the credibility with the fan base. People were hearing the songs on YouTube a year ago, and I would get messages from fans, “Don’t (mess) it up, Billy.” They liked the songs and were worried I was going to mess up a good thing.

Q: You’ve decided to release the album through a major label, EMI, even though you’ve long said the traditional record-industry model is broken and beyond repair. What happened?

A: I still think that. But I thought naively that by becoming an entrepreneur and putting out my own music, that my fans would rally and help me market it. They didn’t. I got, “This is the worst, retire,” from some blogger. As a music fan of artists with a certain longevity like Tom Waits, Van Morrison, Neil Young, I want to hear all of it. The good, the not so good, everything. They’ve earned it. But that’s not the way our country works. We’re the absolute worst at appreciating that sort of thing.

Q: So social media is not the democracy we thought it was?

A: It’s just allowed the most narcissistic among us to amass more power. But a lot of people in my generation are avoiding it. It’s just not interesting. Chat boards chase away people who want to be positive, and they get shot down, so they retreat from it.

Q: So at what point did “Oceania” take shape as an album? Was there a turning point song or moment?

A: I’m in Sedona, the band is taking a break (in February 2011). I’m there by myself working with Bjorn. There is a message from the ex-wife of (former Electric Prunes bassist and recent Corgan collaborator) Mark Tulin. She’s crying, he’s dead of a heart attack, just 62 years old. I’d seen him two days before. His death hit me hard. It made me think, “What am I doing?” There were 400 people at his funeral. It was a joyous, joke-filled dinner, because that was his spirit. I went back to Sedona and went through all our music. We’d done 30 demos. I heard his bass parts and would cry. The band was in limbo. And it hit me, “If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do it right.” Stop (messing) around. You’re 44 at the time, get off your pity party. You know how to make records, stop being a baby, just do it. It was like, I had a sense of purpose. I went into my old mode. I was ruthless in the ’90s. I did whatever I had to do to get the band where it needed to be. There was one destination. It had to be big. And when I got there I realized it wasn’t so great. The band went boom. I didn’t have any more bullets in the round. I didn’t want to have to justify anything. I had to let go of the band, the legacy, a new chapter. Better suit up. I got very sober, serious, very deliberate. I’m much kinder than I used to be, but I’m still ruthless. … For a while there, I didn’t want to be at the center of every decision when I was making records. But the best music I ever made I was at the center of every decision. I don’t make any apologies about that anymore. I don’t want to be in a windowless room poring over musical details. But that’s the lesson I learned. I wasn’t going to fail because I didn’t go for it. (Chicago Cubs slugger) Dave Kingman was my idol as a kid. He was a .220 hitter. He struck out a lot. But when he hit the ball, it went way over the fence and through the window across the street.

Source: Chicago Tribune

Listening to Gish, the initial, awe-inspiring explosion by Smashing Pumpkins, the word ‘control’ doesn’t spring immediately to mind. But for Billy Corgan, the Chicago band’s twenty-four-year-old singer-guitarist, steering his own course was so important that he shunned virtually every major label – eventually signing with indie Caroline Records – in order to retain complete creative license. Gish, as it turns out, is meticulously calculated chaos. “What the band does is so specific that we couldn’t dilute it in any way,” says Corgan, “We couldn’t put ourselves in the position where we were powerless.”

The results are anything but watered down. The band (which also includes guitarist James Iha, bassist D’Arcy and drummer Jimmy Chamberlin) thrashes around in waves of feedback and beautifully distorted melodies – swirling energy that conjures up visions of Jimi Hendrix sitting in with the Stooges. Control of the studio, however, extracted its pound of flesh. “A studio is a big mirror,” says Corgan. “You can see every crack in your persona. It was like looking inside yourself. Sometimes I listen to the record, and I just want to cry.”

The record strikes an emotional chord for Corgan; he’s cautiously hopeful it will resonate with equal clarity for everyone.

“It’s important to believe we bare all,” says Corgan. “This album is like someone walking through a house. I feel like I’ve managed to get people into the house but maybe not through any of the doors.”

Gish, in fact, smacks more of the opening of an alternative universe – a space soon to be filled with the return of major labels eager for a shot at a sophomore outing. Next time Corgan might be willing to listen. “We’re ready now,” he says of the impending attention. “What you see is what you get. It’s no longer a question of being a diamond in the rough. I mean, here we are.”

Source: Starla.org

After Lollapalooza, it seems the Sun has set forever on rock music’s most innovative lifeline, Jane’s Addiction. Who is left to take the metal beast to such ecstatic heights, to blitz so many preconceptions, to put so much beauty, magic and passion into one explosive cocktail? Four figures stand in silhouette against the flaming twilight. With sacred hearts tattooed on their backs, they hold the promise of a future equally, but very differently, glorious. They are Smashing Pumpkins. Smashing Pumpkins, like Perry Farrell, understands magic. They’ve already baffled the none too critical faculties of the American press by coming from Chicago and not sounding remotely like anything from the city’s infamous Wax Trax or Touch And Go stables. And their debut album, the stunning “Gish”, has bewitched an array of listeners who can’t for the life of them find any pigeonhole for this diverse foursome to roast in.

“Gish” and the Pumpkins’ current single, “Siva” are intoxicating mixtures of sheer power and delicate, fluid grace, strung together with silvery little words.

“Like most people we have a very good side and a very bad side,” smiles singer and guitarist Billy Corgan. “Most people think we are kind and gentle folk, which we are. But we are also very evil.” Billy, if US press articles are to be believed, is a bit of a wild child and baffling his fellow countrymen is something that he clearly revels in.

“Definitely!” he grins. “You know, people always talk about what the fuck are you? Are you rock, are you psychedelic? We, like don’t care. It has taken us a long time to be a good band, to achieve that balance between power and beauty, and now we are achieving these things it’s like a celebration. I hate to use the word ‘ritualistic’, cos that’s a very Perry Farrell sort of thing, but we have a certain amount of ritual to us. Our shows are becoming less like shows and more like out-of-control celebrations. We’re tapping into more than just a rock show.”

There is something very primal and spiritual about the Pumpkins’ sound. “It’s spiritual in essence,” Billy confirms, “but it’s not inherently spiritual. We’re not going out there to be spiritual, but it does connect you to something that enables you to live your life a little deeper. We like to draw people in and we like to share,” he says. “We like people to be here with us; we don’t want to achieve a pious distance that somehow we’re little rock stars and you don’t understand our little trip. We’re human beings and we deal with things that are mystical and other-worldly. But it doesn’t mean that you can’t bring other people in. I mean, my quasi-religious beliefs aren’t important, what is are the things you believe in – like human values and basic spiritual values that anyone can relate to. So it’s not important that someone exactly understands, as long as you can draw them in and create your own little world. I don’t want to show you what a little death trip I’m on. I’ll never be a more out-of-control person than Iggy Pop.”

Smashing Pumpkins sound like they’ve come roaring out of a time-tunnel, having pillaged all the great parts of rock’s history to bring them back in a new form that’ll nourish the future. Billy likes this idea.

“We are the terminators!” he laughs. “I’m glad you noticed that. I try to achieve this balance about what I like about music from the past , but at the same time, wanting the music to be progressive in the sense of moving forward.”

Both the sleek guitar of “Siva” and the Pumpkin’s first single, “I Am One”, echo the earliest dark innovations of Black Sabbath. “I distinctly remember listening to Black Sabbath when I was nine and putting my head inside the speakers!” Billy laughs. “Because the vibrations from the bass would rumble your hair follicles! I really admire the fact that you picked up on the Sabbath thing, because you can really slag them off for getting on to the whole Satan thing, but early on they were one of the few bands that just tried to do lots of different things”. As the Pumpkins intend to?

“It’s ambitious, but it’s not trying to be any rock star thing,” Corgan stresses. “We’re not trying to move up any fucking mountain. But there is a deeper side to us, and it’s not meant to be an alienating thing.”

“Being in a band does not mean that you are one a higher plane of existence. Look at U2. They started out so ambitious, they used to be a really powerful band. I used to be really moved by them, but now I can’t even listen to their old stuff. The shit they’ve done in the last five years has ruined everything for me. It’s just proved that Bono is a big fucking joke.” Pumpkins’ say, kill Bono.

“I don’t buy into the idea that when a band gets successful it loses touch,” the singer snorts. “I think it’s wonderful when someone uses that success to do something completely different. Like after Prince made ‘Purple Rain’, he was the biggest star in the world and all he had to do was make ‘Purple Rain 2′. He made ‘Around The World In A Day’ which bombed. I really admire him for taking that chance.”

“I think people get attracted to that power, and they think if they move anywhere off that course they’re going to lose their power. They fail to realize it was the power they had to begin with that got them where they are today. If your audience can’t understand why you want to move on, then they’re not for real. If we’re ever in that position, I believe we’ll carry on pushing each other. Push, push on.” Smashing Pumpkins exist on the edge between fantasy and reality, and their greatest joy is the blurring of the lines in between.

“People tried to pigeonhole us and it didn’t work,” Billy smiles. “On the past tour, Perry Farrell, Dave Navarro and Chris Cornell came to see us. To meet people like that, whose music we really admire, and for them to realize that we’re doing our own thing and not riding on their coat-tails is wonderful. There’s no denying that bands like Jane’s and Soundgarden have opened up the world for people to open up their ears. But the fact is that we are our own band.” The Smashing part of the Pumpkins could either mean fantastic or devastating. The choice is yours.

Source: Starla.org

Why were the Smashing Pumpkins and some of their ’90s cohorts able to achieve a level of commercial success unknown to the alt-rock bands today? Sure, you have your boy bands and gangsta rappers, your Justin Timberlakes and your 50 Cents. But the recent Coachella festival outside Los Angeles featured the best of today’s indie rock—think Bright Eyes and The Rapture. What, never heard of them? NEWSWEEK’s Bret Begun talked with former Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan about his era of rock—and what’s different today.

NEWSWEEK: If you survey the alt-rock landscape these days, there is a kingdom of good bands, but no king. Why?

Billy Corgan: You’ve had an erosion of mystique. You have to be on the cover of Maxim. Michelle Branch was on the cover of FHM. It’s a constant series of compromises that takes away from the very essence of what it means to be an iconoclast. They just sign 40 guys who are better looking than Kurt Cobain and sing just like Kurt Cobain. But what you lose is the spiritual essence of the individual who seems to come from out of nowhere. All the great icons of rock have been incredibly insane individuals.

Is it impossible for a great icon to come along again?

What we’re going to see now is a different archetype rise up. It’s not going to be the Elvis archetype; it’s going to be something we can’t even imagine. It’s going to be someone, maybe, who’s more spiritual, somebody who doesn’t want anything to do with corporate industry. Somebody who’s an Internet star. Some kid who makes tapes in his bedroom and says, “F—the world. This is my version of it.” And then people will latch on. All the music factories in the world can’t manufacture that kid. To me, Elvis was the innovator. We’ve basically just been watering down Elvis. We’ve lost the desire to support individuals. In the early ’90s, you had six or seven top people—Courtney [Love], Trent Reznor, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains. We all got assassinated because we didn’t live up to some sort of idealism that never existed: a perfectionism of rock and roll attitude mixed with drug addiction. So what replaced us? Kids who looked the part, acted the part, but they weren’t saying the same things. They’ve been successful, so why would the next generation go back to what we used to do?

Why be original, in other words?

There’s just as many talented people in this particular generation, but the compromises are too great. The constant message to kids—particularly kids who are starting new bands—is: this is really not that important. The way you look is more important than your song. Being an individual? That’s too much of a problem. Act like you’re an individual, but don’t sacrifice like an individual. Where’s everybody putting their fingers in their ears? When you water down the basic image of what it means to be a rock star into something that’s tattoo-ready and MTV-friendly, where’s the rebellion? There isn’t any. Rebellion is doing something where people like me have our fingers in our ears going, “This is s—.” We’re so blind, we don’t even see the genius.

Is anyone on that trajectory?

No. Radiohead is constantly compared to Pink Floyd. I don’t think that’s a comparable comparison. If you’re Radiohead and you’re told now that you’re the Pink Floyd, what else do you have to shoot for? You sort of retreat into your own vision. When Pink Floyd had “Dark Side of the Moon,” it told someone like me, “Wow, you can be yourself and you can have all the success in the world.” Where is that earth-shattering moment where everything changes? The Beatles did it. Elvis did it. U2 did it. Nirvana did it. Is this generation any less talented? Are they more into their cars or something? No. There’s no reason to step into that light because there’s no reward there for anybody.

When you were beginning, how did you measure success?

In 1988, when the band started, success was playing the Metro [in Chicago], which was 1,000 people. Sonic Youth played the Metro, Dinosaur Jr. If you were on that level, you were successful. The idea that you could reach a point where you would play the Riviera, which was 3,500, or the Aragon, was unfathomable. Much less arenas. Much less be on MTV more than once on “120 Minutes.” So, in 1988, if you were on “120 Minutes” and you sold out the Metro, that was it. That was Dinosaur Jr. You were the top. When the sales came in with Nirvana, everything changed. In 1990, I think there were seven alternative-rock stations in America; now there’s something like 90 and most are corporately owned.

The notion of “selling out,” licensing songs, how has that changed? Fifteen years ago, that seems like it would have been unacceptable.

Career death.

Is all this completely different now?

I’m not romantic about the notion of “selling out.” People who are not in your position deciding what is and isn’t selling out I always thought was a crock of s—. The song I wrote, “Today,” which ended up being a pretty big song—that song literally saved my life. I was completely suicidal, and I wrote that song in a cold bedroom on a day where it was like, “I’m either going to kill myself today, or I’m going to live because I’m sick of thinking about this.” When I played it, it was an intense, extreme feeling. Last year, I was offered heavy, heavy money to license that song. I actually turned down two huge, huge, seven-figure-plus deals last year for two songs.

For “Today” and for which other song?

“Tonight, Tonight.” That’s a fundamentally difficult position to be in. At this point, it’s just free money. Song’s already been played. It’s been exploited. The record company’s literally begging me: go ahead and take these commercials. At this point in my life, I don’t feel comfortable. Those songs are the reason I’m alive. If your music is not sacred to the point where it’s a really, really, really heavy decision about whether or not you would allow somebody else to exploit it, then what’s not for sale? For a long time there was this dream that you could hit this utopian point The Beatles hit. “All you need is love.” You’d write that song that would change the world. That seems to have gotten lost. Now songs are just vehicles for personality. The song is not the sacred thing anymore.

Is the cultural climate one that would allow a musician to hit a “utopian point”?

Maybe the silver lining here is that people just don’t need rock music like they used to. Maybe they feel better about themselves. The machinery of the entertainment business is so overwhelming. All people want to feel is that whatever they do is empowered. When everything is connected back to something, well, then where do you get that sense of feeling it was your decision? Maybe you hear a song on a McDonald’s commercial and you buy the CD, but it’s not like you heard about it in somebody’s basement. When everything is everybody’s, then nobody owns anything. This culture, I don’t think, values the song. It doesn’t value the icon. It values the moment and whoever feeds that moment. But we lose that it’s human beings creating the moment. And when the culture thinks that it’s the puppet master, then, of course, why wouldn’t you have “American Idol?” One question that comes up a lot is, “How did you do it?” Like it’s a trick. The code is 1-2-3, turn the knob to the left. It’s not like that. But watch “American Idol.” It says, “If you go 1, 2, 3 and turn the knob to the left, you win the whole thing.” That’s the wrong message.

Interviewer: The size of my shoes are…. Is that all right Ron? What was that?

Ron: (pre-recorded machine voice) That’s all right.

Interviewer: That’s all right? Okay cool.

Billy: It’s like the voice of God.

Interviewer: Yeah I know.

Ron: Psycho.
Jimmy: (in a Godlike tone) Speak to me.

Interviewer: It’s kind of special. It’s very very special. Well, thanks for coming by because I know you guys are busy and burned out apparently? Are you sorta tired of being everybody’s favorite band?

Jimmy: No I’m not tired at all. I just have a sore throat.

Interviewer: Hmm. But has it gotten…

Jimmy: It’s not even sore. It’s just gone. It doesn’t hurt.

Interviewer: This is from New Orleans?

Jimmy: I believe this happened in New Orleans. It was the start of all this, but..
Billy: No he had miles of Deckidins proceeding New Orleans.
Jimmy: I think New Orleans was the start of the sore throat and I think Dallas might have been the apex.

Interviewer: Could we trace the beginning of the deckidins though?

Billy: No, you’d have to go back to the fetal stage with him.
Jimmy: You have to bring a box of itineraries.
Billy: You know you see that picture of the fetus smoking? You know those ads were him.
Jimmy: I was actually a star when I was little. A star baby.

Interviewer: (laughing) You were a child star.

Billy: But to answer your question, we are very crispy.

Interviewer: Very crispy. God, how long have you been on the road now?

Billy: Well, this is we have been on the road, this is two months straight. But, before that we had done in a hole in the American tour so roughly on and off since June.
Jimmy: And a small European thing we did too.
Billy: We haven’t been home a lot. That’s.
Jimmy: I’ve been home about 15 days since July 8th or something.

Interviewer: Wow. Have the songs changed a lot since you’ve been playing them live so much?

Billy: More sonic.
Jimmy: Yeah, there a lot free-er, a lot looser. There not so anal anymore. There more of a , we try and get more of a jam atmosphere now as opposed to playing the songs exactly how they are on the record.
Billy: The real lesson I’ve learned from playing so much on the road is that it does everyone disservice if the band is disinterested in the music its playing and it’s like anything if you do over and over and over again it just loses its brilliance or brightness or something so we try to find ways in the songs to keep our minds in them so that you know we don’t wanna I mean we’re not out there to jam we’re not the Grateful Dead, but we’ve kinda opened up our songs a little bit for more interpretations. I think it’s really made our shows a lot better and I think it gives audiences a chance to see more personality than like be like Rush and just get up there and play the album cause I think in the end that’s what people wanna see when they have the album and they know the songs they’re looking for some other element. So..
Jimmy: Right.

Interviewer: So what personality of the band do you think comes across the end?

Billy: The meanie.
Jimmy: The reckless.
Billy: The reckless meanies.

Interviewer: (laughs) The devil may care version of the Smashing Pumpkins?

Billy: Ummm. That’s a good question. It’s just um. See when we formed as a band, we weren’t a jammy sort of band we wrote songs and then brought them to the band. We weren’t like the band who wrote the songs as a jamming band. So, to open it up like we have is kinda like a new thing for us. What aspect that brings out of us it really is kinda funny because it um just depends on night to night. You know if you’re angry it has more of an edge. And if you’re feeling a little more lovey then it tends to be a little softer in places. The best thing about it’s really an honest interpretation of your feelings filter through the meaning of songs. And by doing that, I think that personally made my life a lot easier because I don’t have to get up there and pretend to be something I’m not. If I’m angry I get up and play my songs angry and it lends a death to the songs and maybe it wouldn’t be there if I didn’t have those emotions. And conversely, no one’s seen me up there with a propped up smile aching to put on rock moods that I don’t really believe in you know.

Interviewer: I would have guessed that there was a lot jamming of the band just the way the album sounds.

Jimmy: I dunno.
Billy: I dunno.

Interviewer: Okay so let’s take like “Bury Me” and that one is all worked out and it..

Billy: Yup.
Jimmy: That song was worked out in every detail.

Interviewer: So how does like who started that one? You know, did you have lyrics and..

Billy: No, “Bury Me” is the type of song that I literally wrote the whole song and just brought it to the band and then it was just fine tuning.

Interviewer: Hmm. So it’s like you come in with chords changes and this where this is where the solos go and then we do this and then we do that.

Billy: Exactly. It’s not always that way but it for a song like that it is
Jimmy: A particular song goes..
Billy: We’re very specific because this is answering a bigger question you haven’t even asked me but um what we do specifically, musically, to us its important in the sense of establishing something else. Like emotionally. So we’re more looking for an emotional intangible element in musical. I dunno. It’s hard to explain how that works with how we make up our songs, but..

Interviewer: So, when its like “Bury Me” is to you its like this emotion I want to get across. And like “Rhinoceros” is a different emotion.

Jimmy: I don’t think it’s that specific. I mean, “Bury Me” was a very anal song when we did it in the studio everything was worked out. But I mean when we do it now and we do it totally different. I mean there’s a totally different feel. I mean it’s not necessarily the same things that I was feeling in the studio when we did it or necessarily that Billy was feeling.
Billy: I dunno. It’s really hard to explain because its by being very specific in terms of what everyone is doing in a mechanical sense, it freeze the mind up. Because you know where everyone is going at every specific time. There isn’t this kind what you do is you create this kind of machine that’s all working in one direction and by doing you freeze the mind up. And, that’s why we’re so specific in the way we write our songs and the way that there meant to be played so you can achieve other things. It’s a hard concept to explain. You know to most people it’s probably really unimportant, you know.

Interviewer: No it’s like. I was thinking it’s like a race car driver that knows all the little or an airplane pilot all the little things that you have to do so then you’re open so that all those things you don’t have to worry about.

Billy: There, taken care of.

Interviewer: Taken care of.

Billy: And your not constantly fighting each other on stage or why you play the song because somebody is going in a different direction. We know that as a band exactly what everyone else is going to do and by doing that it allows you the freedom to roam in your mind and bring out a lot of other things instead of having to stand there and having to concentrate and worry about what the person next to you is doing all the time.

Interviewer: Are you a big classical music fan?

Billy: No.

Interviewer: No? Cause it’s like a symphony sorta it goes all over the place but it’s in a every incredibly ordered way.

Billy: Orchestrated would definitely be the word. Some people that have seen that kind of process with us in action are kinda surprised you know. But, I think it’s very important because the end result is to achieve the maximum effect that you are looking for and nothing about hopefully nothing about what you’re doing musically is distracting from that. That’s why we’re so specific.

Interviewer: Yeah, makes sense. Hmm. It’s um, do the audiences have a big effect since we’re talking about diverse how they were saying how from like show to show and from city to city what they see in the audience, what the people look like, and how they react to the first song totally changes like the show from night to night for them. And they thought way in a much bigger way than say if you were in Bon Jovi, where the crowd probably looks the same from night to night.

Billy: Um, there’s definitely something about how an audience reacts that has something to do with the band but I think it’s really important that a band not get an applause happy and reaction happy and ultimately you have to achieve a satisfaction within your band because playing music that’s important to you shouldn’t be about validation it shouldn’t be about someone validating your existence and your presence in a club somewhere. It should be about your pride and your establishing something to people and some of the best shows we’ve ever played have been shows were the audience didn’t react. We didn’t get anything from the audience. There’s no equation. There’s no simple equation. Sometimes you play in front of great audiences and the band is horrible. You know. It definitely pumps you up and gives a different high when the audience knows what you’re doing is familiar with the songs and reacts but I think ultimately you have to shut yourself off to that. Because what you do is that you end up doing is being applause happy and you end up steering your sets to and everything you do towards maximum response and I think that’s the wrong thing to do.

Interviewer: When you first started playing music, did it sound like anything the Smashing Pumpkins sound like now?

Billy: Nope.
Jimmy: Absolutely not.
Billy: No.

Interviewer: So what you were playing drums along to..

Jimmy: Bad pop songs.

Interviewer: Bad pop songs? Like…

Jimmy: Like bad pop songs like..

Interviewer: That you wanted to be a drummer? Did you want to be a rock ‘n’ roll drummer?

Billy: I think she’s asking you from the beginning. Like pre-Pumpkins.

Interviewer: Yeah, pre-Pumpkins.

Jimmy: Actually, I wanted to be a lumber jack.

[all three laugh]

Interviewer: In Chicago?

Billy: Obviously a far out mystical thing to want to be.

Interviewer: Right, he was a special child!

Jimmy: Well, I just wanted to play music that I liked and I mean whether I’m in the Pumpkins or whatever and the fact that I can do it now and make somewhat living at is a great thing. But I mean it’s not the most important thing to me, I just I mean if I didn’t like the music I wouldn’t be in the band.

Interviewer: Always drums though? Did you want to be…

Jimmy: Always been a drummer yeah, since I was 8 years old. I mean I play other instruments too but drums is definitely the thing I like best. I mean, better than anything else in my life, I like to play my drums. I guess yeah.

Interviewer: So you were terrorizing your family from 3rd grade on?

Jimmy: Well, yeah but my brother was a drummer before that. So..

Interviewer: Oh good.

Billy: Happy family.
Jimmy: They’ve been going through 22 years of drums.

Interviewer: They’re proud now!

Jimmy: Yeah, but none of them can hear.

[all three laugh]

Interviewer: They would like it if they can hear it. From the time the Pumpkins got together until now did the music go through a lot of different changes?

Billy: Absolutely.

Interviewer: So when the band was coming together what did you want? So what were you saying to each other? “We want a band that ..”

Billy: See, I guess to answer the question that you’re asking me I have to say that the Pumpkins were formed more on a theoretical idea than a musical idea. The idea was to be able to create an environment of a band that could allow you the freedom to do whatever you wanted to do. To express yourself whatever way you want to express yourself. If that meant blasting out or being very subtle. So those being the basic parameters we set about to find comfortable musical styles for ourselves that was more instinctual and not necessarily related to trends or anything like that. So, in the early process of the band it was just kinda like ‘okay, here’s a good song I wrote’ We’d play it and then realize we weren’t comfortable with it as a band. It wasn’t the ultimate direction we wanted to head. So it just became a process of weeding out where we’re comfortable to say we wanted to do whatever we wanted to do is simple. But to be a band and get up on stage and play really heavy songs and then turn around and play really mellow songs is a really hard thing to do and to establish a gracefulness from those extremes was really difficult. So it took us a couple years to feel really comfortable with you know the two symbolic sides of the band. It’s really a strange thing because you know when you first start a band you reach with things that you are comfortable, you reach with things that you understand, just like anything that you go with what’s around you that is easy to understand. Since we’ve gone along, we’ve shed all those things, literally everything that we started with we’ve shed them all and like followed our instincts. So, as we go along more and more, influences mean less, it’s like we don’t really you know what just comes out. Because there’s this process established of what we are and how we are so now everything that comes out sort of filters through this thing. Most of my friends that play in bands say that we are not like any other band, I don’t mean musically necessarily but how we act and the way we come about what we do is very backwards. But I think that was very necessary in the process that we went through to become what we are now. Yeah, because it wasn’t like God spoke to me and said ‘you’re going to be in this band and it’s gonna sound like this’ because it was arrived at by a lot of trial and error and just finding what you’re instinctively comfortable with.

Interviewer: Plus you’re pretty close to uncategoralizable.

Billy: That makes me very happy to hear that. That’s what I want. We’ve reached this zenith point in music where it’s like everyone has heard it everything. You cannot solo Jimi Hendrix and you can’t outgod Led Zeppelin you can’t out Iggy Pop Iggy Pop. Everything has reached its point where it’s like you can’t be anymore whatever unless you’re going to kill yourself on stage and that would be a one time act. You know, that’s really the last thing left to do. So it’s like there’s a frustration there of just like ‘where do we go? where do we head? I don’t want to be a regurgitating retro. let’s mish-mash the past up and delivery it to someone in a different box and pretend that it’s different.’ We don’t want to do that. We’re really trying to find some kind of area you know. So that’s why when I say that it’s more about emotion for us than it is music in a lot of ways because musically how many different ways can you really express yourself? We look for something that will mean more in some other way.

Interviewer: Yeah. That was a great line ‘you can’t outgod Led Zeppelin’.

Billy: Well you can’t outpop Iggy.

Interviewer: Can’t outpop Iggy. Can’t outgod Led Zeppelin. What makes you right? Are you always working on lyrics or is it do we have notebooks and notebooks and notebooks that get carried around and cassettes and scribbles?

Billy: Exactly. As long as I can remember, it’s always been like a process of creation for me. From scribbling, drawing, writing, poem you know you name it, it’s always been about expressions. So, being in a rock band is for me the ultimate way to express myself because I can express myself in a very aesthetic way which is to make records. And then I can also express myself in a way that is very personable, live. You know, maybe rock ‘n’ roll is disposable at some level but as far like for the moment it’s probably the best art form you know because it’s alive and it breathes. Maybe no one will listen to our tapes in a 100 years and they’ll have somebody’s painting on the wall, but as long as I’m alive at least I’ll feel like I’m doing something that’s like breathing.

Interviewer: Are you a writer before you were a musician?

Billy: Um, I definitely wrote a lot of poetry and stuff like that. I don’t know if it was good or bad, but there was always this impulse to want to do something you know.

Interviewer: Was it hard getting the band together? Getting the personalities together you know? Was there a lot of trying this person and trying that person?

[Billy and Jimmy snicker]

Billy: Absolutely. The hardest part was to saying to someone ‘Okay, I’m going to form this band and this is how it’s going to be you know.’ And they’d say ‘Well, what kinda band, what kinda music?’ ‘Well you don’t understand. It’s more about an idea.’ And to find people who are willing to accept that challenge and willing not to go for such an immediate accessible thing. And to be willing to put in time and years and really work at it and really believe in this idea that somehow we would achieve something that was bigger and better than everything around us was. Being from Chicago, it was such a frustrating music scene. It gave us all the more impetus to want to grow beyond that. I went through so many people to try and find the right people. A lot of people like the idea of being in a band than they actually like working for a band.

Interviewer: A gang with guitars and they just sorta want a different social group.

Billy: Exactly.

Interviewer: What made you know it was going to work? Like, what was said, what was played, and you said ‘Yeah, I like this person I wanna be..’

Jimmy: Nobody really likes each other. But we all…

Interviewer: What’s that bond that holds together?

Jimmy: It’s definitely the music. It’s definitely the feeling. Nobody..

Interviewer: Would you be friends if you weren’t in the band?

Jimmy: I don’t think that anyone in the band is actually best friends per say. But I mean I think everyone knows they’re going to be in the band forever.
Billy: Even if the band breaks up, at some point which it will, we’ll give the band up. It’s kinda like being in the Musketeers. Once a Pumpkin, always a Pumpkin. We’ve really subjugated ourselves to this idea how things should be and when it really comes right into your face is when you try and play it with someone else. You try and go outside and play it with some other musician, you realize how intense you are with what you do and how you do it. We have such a kind of psychic process that goes on now that’s really a strange thing.

Interviewer: Hmm that is, and really nice to. Sort of. What’s an album that you both might have in your record collection? Like what’s something that would be like an old bond. Like Led Zeppelin II?

Billy: (laughs) Absolutely.
Jimmy: Well, between Billy and me, we’ve probably got every Zeppelin, Hendrix, Sabbath..

Interviewer: King Crimson?

Billy: No.

Interviewer: No?

Jimmy: I’ve got some King Crimson.

Interviewer: I knew. I knew there was some King Crimson in somewhere back there.

Jimmy: I was once the anal drummer.
Billy: Now he’s the oral drummer.

Interviewer: Now he’s the oral drummer. Yeah. I have to ask you, and I’m sure you’ve been asked this a billion times, and I’m sorry, but why is “Rhinoceros” called “Rhinoceros”?

Billy: Um, I never talk about what my songs are about.

Interviewer: That’s not about what the song is about, but okay…

Billy: But that kind of is talking about what the song is about.

Interviewer: Okay then I thought you could answer this indir…

Billy: Here I’ll explain to you, this is how I write up my song titles. This is indicative of how I came up with “Rhinoceros”. Say you write a song about a chandelier. And the chandelier gives off light. And the light is the color red. And red reminds you of the color you’re not supposed to wear around a bull. So, you name the song “Cow”.

Interviewer: Okay. That’s good, it all makes sense. There’s the other thing that Joy Divison makes up a list of great phrases and then after the album is finished. They just all go through and pick up 10 phrases or words or whatever and I thought that might be something…

Billy: I think song titles is really important. Its kinda like the wrapping paper on a gift.

Interviewer: Do you ever start with a song title?

Billy: Absolutely. To be totally honest, I carried “Siva” around in my mind for like 5 years. That I knew one day I would write a song called “Siva”, I just knew. I have tapes from 5 years ago with “Siva” written on them you know. You know trying to put that title to a song you know.

Interviewer: Blank tapes. You’d be ready.

Billy: I even thought about calling the band “Siva” actually.

Interviewer: Wow. And it finally came out with the right combination of people.

Billy: It finally came out. So now I have these songs called “Kill Mom” and “Shoot Dad”.

Interviewer: I love the sacred heart on the back. Who’s the inspiration? Who found the picture?

Billy: It’s actually like uh…..

Interviewer: One of the little…

Jimmy: It’s like an ornament.
Billy: An ornament or..

Interviewer: What’s the word?

Billy: I used to wear it around my neck. It was given to me by a woman in Florida when I was 19. It was a strange thing I had. You know its like when sometimes they shoot a rock and it’s supposed to shoot straight up but it shoots toward the left? That’s kinda what that’s all about. It kinda went off for a while.

Interviewer: I mean do you still have it?

Billy: Yeah, it’s actually my girlfriend’s. I gave it to her. I had to pry it out of her to use it for the album.

Interviewer: It’s just such a wonderful thing. Have you guys been to Boston yet?

Billy: Yeah, sure.

Interviewer: At the Boston Museum, they have their equivalent. They’ve got it all in Spanish and it’s all blue. It’s like the heaviest thing you’ll ever see in a museum in your life.

Billy: The sacred heart image or the bleeding heart image to me is the image I attach myself to like a lot people are into crosses but that to me is the ultimate image you know. The soul of God. This is such a dualistic image. It has fire and thorns. It says so much to me that I just thought it was just right it is in a way. In some ways that should have been the front cover you know. That image is pretty much symbolically is the album. That kind of torture.

Interviewer: At first, I was trying to link Gish and the heart and I just couldn’t. Then, I was thinking what she was like and what she went through and maybe there was some link.

Billy: Gish sounds like such a sentimental word.

Interviewer: Yeah. You know it’s so…

Billy: Something.

Interviewer: Something. Yeah, Gish is the icon of something. I don’t know. It’s all smiles. Gish is such a smiley word.

Billy: Yes, it is.

Interviewer: And the back is so intense. And rips you open.

Billy: That pretty much sums up the Pumpkins, you know.

Interviewer: Yeah.

Billy: Just when you think we’re getting soft on you, it hits you over the head. You know.

Interviewer: Yeah. Well great, I’m glad you guys came by.

Billy: Thanks for having us.

Interviewer: It’s 2 minutes after four, how am I doing? Can I have you do liners?

Billy: What is that?

Interviewer: You know, insert your name here.

Billy: Oh, okay. I never do these, but for you I will do them.

Interviewer: You could do, you know, I’m Billy and I’m Jimmy and Smashing Pumpkins and blah blah blah.

Billy: Ok. Howdy there folks. I’m Billy from the Smashing Pumpkins. I’m on The Edge, can’t you tell? Right after this, so stay tuned.

Interviewer: Cool.

Billy: Yes, life on the edge. I’m William Patrick Corgan from the Smashing Squids. And we’ll be back with some of our music. (laughs) I always think that these are so silly, so I’m sorry.

Interviewer: Well, I know. But the only thing people hear is you and this is the beginning and top of the show. They won’t know what’s going on.

Billy: Hey, I’m back. I’m on the edge. Been takin’ a lot of these pills. I’m Billy from the Pumpkins. We’re on The Edge. Get it?

Interviewer: Let’s make Jimmy do something.

Billy: (laughs) Yeah.
Jimmy: (in a croacky voice) I’m really on the edge.

Interviewer: So when your voice comes back, I’ll be able to send you this and you’ll go that’s what I sounded like. “That’s what I sounded like on that day”. It’s very good. It’s very kind of Robert Micthev or something, I don’t know.

Billy: More like Vic Taback.
Jimmy (in a croacky voice): Alice!

Interviewer: Yeah, light another cigarette up Jimmy!

Jimmy: Hi, I’m Jimmy from the Smashing Pumpkins. I’m on The Edge. Right after this. So stay tuned! Hi, this is Jimmy from the Pumpkins.
Billy: You’re reading the wrong one.
Jimmy: I can’t see the highlighter.
Billy: You gotta read these.

Interviewer: He wanted to read that one though.

Jimmy: Oh okay. I can’t see the highlighter.

Interviewer: Yeah it’s hard on pirate radio.

Billy: They’re all on the edge ones.
Jimmy: On The Edge. I’m Jimmy from the Pumpkins. Back with our music. We’re back on The Edge. I’m Jimmy from the Pumpkins.
Billy: You can’t use any of these! These are terrible!
Jimmy: Hi, I’m Edge from U2. You’re on the Pumpkins.
Billy: Stay tuned.

Interviewer: The Pumpkins are my favorite band.

Jimmy: Stay tuned. The Pumpkins are my favorite.

Interviewer: Don’t go anywhere. This is a great record.

Billy: Oh thank you.

Interviewer: It’s really really good.

Billy: I promise the next one will be even better.

Interviewer: Really? “Rhinoceros” and “Bury Me” are my favorite songs.

Billy: Really?

Interviewer: Yeah.

Billy: The funny thing about that record, I mean this makes me very happy – is that everyone I talk to likes different songs.

Interviewer: Different songs? That’s good.

Source: Starla.org

01. What attracted you to work on music for the motion picture Stigmata?

02. What do you feel is the difference between making music for a film versus making your own records?

03. What was your working relationship like with the filmmakers?

04. How important do you feel it is for the filmmakers to give you true artistic freedom?

05. How was Natalie Imbruglia chosen to sing the title theme to Stigmata?

06. How do you think the music in Stigmata will affect people who see the movie?

Stigmata is a 1999 supernatural horror film directed by Rupert Wainwright. Father Andrew Kiernan, a researcher of miracles on behalf of the Vatican, must discover the truth behind hairdresser Frankie Paige, who exhibits the Stigmata, the physical wounds Christ received from his crucifixion. His investigation is riddled with questions as he is torn between helping Frankie and revealing the discovery of a long-lost Gospel that would spell disaster for the future of the Catholic church.

“The kingdom of God is inside you and all around you not in? mansions of wood and stone”. - Nag Hamadi Scroll

“Await” and “Reflect” composed by Billy Corgan and Mike Garson:

“Identify” composed by Billy Corgan and Mike Garson:

They have climbed the highest of rock mountains. And yes, they’ve crossed the valley of death. Hyperbolic? Maybe. But if truth is a defense…”We know that we’re lucky,” says D’Arcy, bassist for Smashing Pumpkins. “We know that we’ve gotten another chance at a brand-new start. Things were going so well before, [but] there was still this thing in the back of your mind that tells you to worry, that something bad is going to happen.”

Smashing Pumpkins’ latest album, “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness,” has sold 3.5 million copies in the United States, making it the best-selling double CD of the past two years. The album has had blockbuster sales in Europe and Australia as well. They’re currently kings of the commercial alternative rock. Their arena concerts, including the one September 8th at Providence Civic Center, are jam packed. A fleet center or Worcester Centrum concert is in the works for early November. “Bullet with Butterfly Wings,” “1979″ and “Tonight Tonight” have been all over modern rock radio. They’ve received nine MTV music video nominations in the next week’s competition.

But, of coarse, there is “this stuff,” as D’Arcy refers to it. As in ‘before this stuff happened” and “after this stuff happened.” The bad stuff.

The first event happened May 11th. A young female fan was crushed to death at a Pumpkins concert in Dublin. “That shouldn’t have happened,” says D’Arcy. “That was terrible. We stopped the show twice before that because kids were just out of control and we though kids were getting crushed in front. We’re like, ‘We’re gonna stop before someone gets crushed.’”

They didn’t manage to do that. A pained Billy Corgan, singer-songwriter-guitarist-keyboardist, said later that is was only rock n’ roll – not worth dying for.

Then, on July 12th, the Pumpkins’ touring keyboardist, Jonathan Melvoin died. He overdosed on heroin. Drummer Jimmy Chamberlin, who tried to revive Melvoin, had allegedly shot up with him. Chamberlin was arrested for possession-he goes to court Sept.25 and faces a year in jail if convicted- and was subsequently ousted from the band.

Matt Walker, from Filter, has replaced Chamberlin. Dennis Flemoin, of the Frogs, has replaced Melvoin.

The delayed tour kicked up again last week out west. D’Arcy checked in from Las Vegas on her cell phone, where after taking in a hokey King Arthur’s Faure, she was wandering around a casino’s giant fake pyramid and trying to be heard over the clanging slot machines-”This is insane!”- and discussing what’s up with the tumultuous band she play in.

“Never a dull moment in Pumpkin-land anymore,” D’Arcy says wryly.

D’Arcy’s comment recalls an interview with Chamberlin, about three years ago. He was out of drug rehab and amiably chatting during a tour stop: “We seem to have overcome the biggest monkeys on our backs, emotionally and physically, so things seem to be clicking-very blissfully even-keeled. Which is a scary thing. We’re starting to wonder what’s wrong: ‘Why aren’t I throwing a chair at you?’”

Prescient thoughts, it turns out.

Chamberlin was dismissed five days after Melvoin’s death. “It was all so stupid,” says D’Arcy. “Really sad and really just senseless. On the other hand, it makes us very angry. It never should have happened.”

The band though Chamberlin had beat his addiction. “It was the last straw,” D’Arcy says. “We thought they were both clean. It was just a slap in the face, finding out that we had been lied to for so long.”

Smashing Pumpkins brought in Walker, whom they knew from a joint European tour, and Flemoin, whom they’ve known for years. Walker makes sense to anyone, insider or outsider. He’s a had rocker, also from Chicago, the Pumpkin’s home base. Flemoin? He’s the wild card. He’s part of a Milwaukee-based, glam-rock cult duo prone to dressing up like insect/angels onstage and singing misanthropic, scabrous punk rock songs that can be construed as sexist and homophobic. Or a send-up of sexism and homophobia. Sometimes hilarious, often off-kilter, guaranteed obnoxious.

“I love them!” exclaims D’Arcy. “We’ve been friends for years. They’re doing a record with me and my brother-in-law’s label. I’m going to play with them [this weekend in New York]. I’m gonna be a Frog!”

So they’re not, like, scum of the earth?

“See, that’s the thing they’re not at all,” she says. “They just like to make fun of everybody. They’re not at all biased. It’s like the old saying: ‘I’m not prejudiced, I hate everyone.’ They just have a really bad sense of humor. We can’t all do that all the time like they can. I mean, it’s nothing sacred? You just love going to their shows and seeing the kids standing with their mouths open.”

Will Pumps fans be getting a smidgeon of the Frogs? “Just when things get dull we can bring Jimmy [the other Frog] or Dennis out and they can do a little dance and liven things up.”

Forewarned if forearmed.

“We need a little levity after all this stuff,” says D’Arcy. Not Selling Out

Smashing Pumpkins’ ascent has not been smooth glide. They sprouted up in Chicago in 1989, but D’Arcy, a Michigan native, says, “Chicago was a very conservative city, more oriented towards blues bars and sports bars. There was not much support for rock music at all.”

They did better, she says, out of town. When they played Chicago, which was only occasionally, people would ask where they were from. “Well,” they would say, “we’re from here.”

Smashing Pumpkins released “Gish,” on Caroline Records, but were seen more as poseurs than peers by many in the clique-laden punk/indy rock scene. What they heard in Smashing Pumpkins was a debt to the un-hip pseudo-progressive hard rock of the 70′s (Deep Purple, ELO). What they saw in songwriter Billy Corgan were outlandish ambition and overtly commercial tunes. Not punk at all. Indy heroes Pavement took a swipe at them in a song.

No apologies from D’Arcy here. “I mean how many of these bands are still around? We believe in working hard. And I guess that some people believe that they get into music and they can have a good time and party. Music as always been the most important thing for us…

“Everybody always thought that we were selling out, but we were wanting to make a decent living. The thing is: We are doing what we want to do. As long as you don’t compromise your art and stay true to what you are doing. We love what we’re doing…and we don’t want to have to work a day job.”

With their second album, “Siamese Dream,” in 1993, they moved to Virgin. It was a hit- as was a follow-up album of rarities and B-sides, “Pisces Iscariot”- but there was no smooth sailing within the band. D’Arcy and guitarist James Iha, once a couple, went through a breakup; Chamberlin had his drug problem. Corgan, the brains of the band, was prone to deep, dark mood swings- something fans can hear in the music as well. And there was the perception- that remains in some ways – that Corgan, and admitted control freak, is the band.

“There’s a lot more give and take than people realize,” says D’Arcy. “We spent six hours a day, seven days a week, for 10 months writing this album. In the rehearsal space for three months. It’s like, ‘What are we doing in there?’” Keeping rough edges

Corgan has, tough, talked somewhat cryptically about and era of Smashing Pumpkins coming to an end after this tour. “I try not to think about it,” says D’Arcy. “I’m really into organic music and he’s really into keyboards. I’m just gonna see how it goes. If it gets to a point that I’m just not interested anymore -well, oh well. I mean he’s done a few things on his own, on the side, that’s pretty good. Then it’s like: ‘You don’t need me?’

“A lot of what he writes is personal,” D’Arcy continues. “A lot of it is universal. He really tried for the last album to make it more universal -things everyone can relate to.”

This, sometimes, can have a leavening effect -a sanding-off of the edges. “I don’t think that happened with us,” D’arcy says, with a laugh. “I don’t think we could ever do that.”

A nation that sang along -pumping their clenched fists in the air- with “Despite all my rage/ I’m still just a rat in a cage” (from “Bullet…”) would no doubt agree.

Smashing Pumpkins in concert are a somewhat different-sounding outfit that they are in the studio. Some critics have faulted them for those rough edges. D’Arcy is happy with the roughness, and says people who only know the studio work will tell them, “I didn’t know it was such a rock concert.” And she adds, their sound is better then ever with their soundman being a veteran of the ex acting Prince. “The musicianship is so important to us,” she says. “Some things we do to re-create and other things we do to let go and change and make as interesting as possible.”

The goal is, at this point, just to keep on keeping on. Stay centered. Let the media vortex ease. “I know that I’m a good person,” says D’Arcy. ” I just am who I am and I’m not going to do something because I’m afraid I should set a good example but…I just go about my business. Because I don’t really have anything to feel guilty about either.”

Source: Pumpkin Dreams

Billy Corgan, leader of the American rock combo the Smashing Pumpkins, is cradling a small, gray poodle in his arms. “Drake,” he says, as he stands in the lobby of Pumpkinland, a warehouse-turned-rehearsal/recording studio that is the group’s base of operations. Drake is the poodle’s name. It is, frankly, a strange sight. Almost freakish. Corgan, with his smooth, freshly-shaved head and just a wisp of moustache and goatee, dressed all in black, holding this … poodle? The man, who has screamed “despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage” (a lyric from “Bullet With Butterfly Wings”), whispers gently to his pet. Corgan, who has slimmed down and looks, well, quite the rock star in his black leather pants (and who can see a man in black leather pants and not think Jim Morrison?), cradling Drake.

Five years ago, when Corgan’s rage coursed through the teenage wasteland, when every rock ‘n’ roll kid was blasting 1993′s breakthrough hit album, Siamese Dream, real loud (so that the whiney edge in the chief Pumpkin’s voice would drive their parents nuts), one might have expected him to be out kicking stray dogs, not caring for one with a pedigree. Meet the new boss, not the same as the old boss. Billy Corgan is now 31 years old. And this older Corgan is also a wiser Corgan. His maturity is reflected in his words and his art.

The Pumpkins’ new album, Adore (which clocks in at more than 72 minutes), is a radical, wildly-adventurous work. Corgan has set timeless melodies to music that, for the most part, sounds like the work of soulful aliens. With the exception of the acoustic guitar that opens the first track, “To Sheila,” and the piano that dominates a few tracks, there is hardly a conventional sound on the album. Instead, drum machines, samples, treated drums, treated samples, synths and all manners of odd noise have been used to create an intensely-intimate, powerfully-revealing work. Guitars, traditionally a mainstay of the group’s old sound, are practically nonexistent.

But just as impressive as the fresh, technofied sound are the sentiments Corgan expresses in the lyrics. This time out, he is dealing in heavy themes such as love, loss and faith. This is not kid stuff, and Corgan knows it. “I’m not talking to teen-agers anymore,” he says firmly. “I’m talking to everybody now. the Whole world, you know.”

James Iha yawns. It is a familiar sight. When I interviewed Iha at Pumpkinland in 1995, he was practically nodding off. For the Pumpkins’ handsome guitarist, interviews are a chore. He seems like he’d rather be anywhere else than sitting on the couch, listening to his bandmate talk on and on about Pumpkins this and Pumpkins that.

“James, are you even paying attention?” bassist D’Arcy Wretzky asks at one point.

“Yeah, I’m paying attention,” Iha says, looking over.

Another yawn. This is a man who likes playing music, not talking about it.

The Pumpkins, of course, are a band. They have always been a band. And so, even though Corgan writes the songs, produces the tracks and crafts the music, when it is time to do interviews they all partake. Even if Corgan does most of the talking. “They may not use big words but they kind of feel the same way,” he jokes.

It is easy to think that it’s just a pose. That this is really just Corgan’s trip. Until, halfway through the interview, I mention that one of the lines in the song “Appels and Oranjes” really hit home with me.

At which point Corgan says matter-of-factly that if not for D’Arcy, the song wouldn’t be on the album. “D’Arcy gets a lot of credit for that one,” he says. “That song was on the way out for a long time.”

“Beat him over the head to keep it, not throw it away,” says D’Arcy, picking at a salad.

“I was gonna change [some of the lyrics] because I thought they were too stupid, too plain,” he admits. “And she felt very strongly that it would be a big mistake.”

Thanks to D’Arcy, the song — one of the album’s best (with the original lyrics) — made it onto Adore.

In fact, this trio exudes a kind of Three Musketeers-like camaraderie. They are stubborn perfectionists.

Sitting with them in late April, it becomes clear how important D’Arcy’s bullheadedness is. She is as tough as she is beautiful. That toughness has served this band well. They have, most assuredly, done it their way.

What comes through when one talks to them is that the Smashing Pumpkins are, as Corgan says, 100 percent committed to doing things differently, committed to evolving their sound.

“We would rather break up the band than repeat ourselves,” says Corgan. “That’s like a built-in dogma. There’s no room for any of that.”

Addicted To Noise: Basically, you pretty much reinvented the Pumpkins sound with your new album, Adore. Tell me about that.

Billy Corgan: [laughs] Well.

D’Arcy Wretzky: Take a deep breath.

James Iha: Take out one drummer. Take out the guitars.

Wretzky: Get another drummer.

Corgan: That’s it. Add some keyboards. Play some lame- ass tunes.

Wretzky: [laughs]

ATN: When I interviewed you here in ’95, you said: “Any way you look at it, it’s pretty much the end of the band as far as people would know the Smashing Pumpkins, because we’re going to move on musically anyway and take a much different tack.” And in fact, you followed through on that.

Corgan: We’re good to our word.

Wretzky: But we’ve always done everything we said we would do. So why do people doubt us suddenly?

Corgan: They’ve always doubted us.

Wretzky: Every step of the way.

ATN: It’s easy to talk about …

Corgan: Yeah?

ATN: … about making changes …

Corgan: It’s a little more difficult to do, I’ll say that.

ATN: You’ve actually made them, and given the success that Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness had, it seems like making such a different album is a risky thing to do.

Corgan: Well, I guess maybe we knew in the back of our heads if this was a complete failure for us, we would just go on to whatever.

ATN: Did you think about doing a more traditional Pumpkins album?

Corgan: No. That was never considered.

ATN: Why?

Corgan: It was a non-rock album from the start. We started off trying to define it in a simpler way. Piano, acoustic guitar, kind of simple songs. But we got bored with that real fast. So then it was just a matter of trying to go into weird territory, so we could achieve a different feeling or a different impression with the music. On one hand, the songs are simpler songs, not as overly-arranged as stuff we’ve done in the past. But on the other hand, it’s a more textural production.

ATN: How do you feel about less guitars on this album?

Iha: Fine. One of the big differences is that we didn’t have our regular drummer and just didn’t rehearse the songs to death like we used to.

Wretzky: Have you heard James’ solo record? There aren’t many overt guitars on that record. So it probably made him happy.

Iha: The songs that Billy wrote on this record are not very riff-oriented. It never really occurred to me to bring up the wall of Pumpkins guitar sounds that’s kind of been our trademark. If it doesn’t suit the songs, then it’s dumb to do it.

ATN: So what’s important is what fits the song?

Corgan: I think we’ve always done that, but for us it was trying to take the guitar in different directions.

Wretzky: I’d say that’s always been Billy’s motto. Anything to serve the song. Whatever it takes to serve the song, you know. If he has to make me stand on my head while I’m playing kazoo, so be it. If he’s gonna like, have to sing while he …

Iha: And play bass too.

Wretzky: Yeah. Whatever. Whoever doing whatever.

Corgan: It’s more like opening the parameters. It’s not so much a philosophical change as it is saying these things are not taboo: synthetic noises and loops and whatever else. It’s like throwing the doors wide open and saying, “OK, it doesn’t matter what we do just as long as we do something. Different.” So if a guitar was part of that choice, then it was. It wasn’t a political decision, you know.

Wretzky: Everything’s cool as long as you do it with good taste.

Corgan: That’s why she’s eating salad.

ATN: What are some of the things that you went through between the completion of Mellon Collie and recording this album that you feel had a strong impact on the songs and the sound of the album?

Corgan: Well, Jimmy’s departure is the biggest, #1 thing. And then I would say just the general decision to let go of the rock sound, even before Jimmy [Chamberlin] left the band. So I would say those are the two major things. As far as things that went on in our lives, I think James summed it up a little bit. There’s a certain kind of mental pounding that goes on when you’re playing arena rock and loud music. There’s kind of an almost innate desire to want to move to the other end of the spectrum just to achieve a new feeling. I think we naturally gravitated toward something a little quieter and something a little more textured. Now that we’ve done that, we’re ready to rock again.

[laughter]

Corgan: Which of course can be amazing, because if this album does really well, then everyone will question our return to rock. [laughs]

Iha: I love it! ‘Why are you rocking when you made such a nice last record?’

Wretzky: ‘But you said rock is dead!’ Iha: Yeah. ‘Why are you going back to rock?’

Corgan: Ooh la la.

Iha: Why don’t we do the interview for the next album? Right now!

ATN: We’ll get to that in a minute. A fair amount of this album is about love and loss. Do you think that that’s accurate?

Corgan: That’s a really, really, really simple umbrella way to put it, but yeah. There’s a lot of other issues in there. But those seem to be the two main things that people are focusing on. There’s a lot more subtext to it, so when I think of the album, I don’t think of it in terms of just love and loss.

ATN: I’m asking you to elaborate a little bit.

Corgan: I don’t tend to talk too much about what things are about because I find it just mucks up the water. I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut on one particular subject, and that’s pretty much what the music and the songs are about. I go on about everything else but …

ATN: Can you talk about some of the things that inspired particular songs? Like “Tear,” for example?

Corgan: No. Honestly, I’m being serious. I usually don’t talk about what went into songs, what songs are about, what I was trying to say. Those are the three taboos.

ATN: You want people to figure it out themselves or to interpret it themselves?

Corgan: Well, that’s a general way to put it, but at the same time, I found that when I would explain … Like, I had a song on Siamese Dream called “Space Boy” that’s about my brother. So, for a year and a half, every article mentioned that I had a … And then it gets changed. My brother’s not Mongoloid, but he has a chromosomal disorder. So then it turned into he’s Mongoloid. ‘Here’s a song about his Mongoloid brother.’

So when I said it in Rolling Stone or something, then a year later, you’re reading about ‘Billy and his Mongoloid brother.’ It’s so far removed from what I originally said. So if you don’t give the original thing and there’s no echo to echo off of, so … I’m not trying to play any games with people’s heads. I’m just saying, I don’t like what comes of it.

ATN: Well, overall, it seems like maybe some of the themes on this album are more mature than some of the themes in the past.

Corgan: Right.

ATN: And you said regarding the last album that you felt you could still connect with a “teenage heart,” but that you were concerned about growing older and no longer being able to do that.

Corgan: I’m not talking to teenagers anymore. I’m talking to everybody now. the Whole world, you know. My parameters are much wider. It’s a wider dialogue. I’m talking to people who are older than me and younger than me, and our generation as well.

ATN: Who do you think will actually connect with it?

Corgan: I have no idea. I have no idea.

ATN: What do you guys think?

Wretzky: You mean with this record specifically?

ATN: Yeah.

Wretzky: I don’t know. Our music has always had a really broad spectrum of people who listen to it. I mean, I get people telling me, people who are old enough to be my grandmother to 4-year-old kids, and [Chicago critic] Greg Kot was just in here talking about his 2-year- old daughter who is really into this new record. We’ve been really lucky that way.

Corgan: We come from a generation where our music was originally focused solely on that generation. But at some point you have to realize that you’re more a band of the world, and that there’s other things going on besides your little area of politics and generational concerns, so the album’s more about things that are important to human beings. It’s not just about, ‘Hey, it must be hard having pimples or something.’ I’m past all that. And I don’t think there’s really much else I can say on certain subjects. I think I’ve probably exhausted them.

ATN: This is the natural evolution of somebody getting older. At one point, someone’s whole world is their high school class.

Corgan: Certainly. I agree with that. I think it’s inevitable. What are you gonna do? I think the worst thing is to continue to try to be a teen-ager. You see these awful pictures of like 50-year-old men in 25-year-old clothes. They’re not looking so good. I don’t wanna be that. I’m not interested in that.

Wretzky: I’m gonna be that.

ATN: When you’re 50, you’ll still be an artist. You’ll still be making music.

Corgan: I think there’s a graceful way to be. I think that life is about living in the present, so if you see people who are obviously living in the past, then it seems to me they’re missing the point. Because at the same time they’re living in the past, they’re almost asking the audience to live in the past with them. I don’t agree with that as an artist. That’s why I think someone like Neil Young is such an amazing artist because he’s not living in the past. He’s living in the present.

ATN: It’s a very difficult thing for a band, once they have a history of success, to do.

Corgan: I think we’re in a very rare position in that we’ve had a sustained kind of success. And I think the Beatles, the Who, all our great bands … Can you imagine the Who? ‘I hope I die before I get old …’ I can’t imagine what the interviews were like when they were 30, you know? ‘Well, now you’re getting old. How does it feel?’ Do you know what I mean?

I think everybody has to turn some sort of corner at some point. Whether we want to or not, we’re turning a corner, both based on our maturity, the things that have happened to us, to the musical choices we’ve made, and just the way things are headed. Grunge rock, alt rock, whatever, is basically a passe thing. I’m not gonna be out there hamboning up something that I don’t believe in anymore. I believed in it when I believed in it, and I still love it. But we can’t go out and pretend that we feel the same way we felt when we were 23 years old about playing fucking Godzilla riffs. It’s not the same thing. You have to play music [about which you have conviction] and if you don’t have conviction, that’s it.

ATN: There’s not a lot of bands other than the Beatles that kept evolving, and that had audiences that were still there for them through all that. So far you’ve been able to pull that off.

Corgan: Well, we haven’t put this album out yet so …

ATN: Well, the last album was no repeat of Siamese Dream. That was a big departure in a lot of ways, too.

Corgan: People don’t give it the credit though. I’m just saying at the head level, most people don’t give it the credit because they focus on the obvious stuff. That’s my gut feeling.

ATN: But as a band, it seems like there’s this real commitment to do that.

Corgan: Total! Total commitment. One hundred percent commitment. We would break up the band rather than repeat ourselves. That’s like a built-in dogma. There’s no room for any of that.

ATN: Have you always felt that way? When you got started, which is like 10 years ago now?

Wretzky: It’s just part of the band. It’s an integral part of the band. Another part of that is trying not to do things that other people have done.

Corgan: Right.

ATN: And is that hard?

Corgan: Yeah, especially when you’re aware of rock history. We don’t live in a bubble. We grew up listening to records. We know what people listen to. So you’re not just trying to do your own thing. You’re also trying to say, well, this has already been covered. There’s no point in going back over this territory.

Wretzky: It’s really so hard, too. Like if things work their way into your brain. You don’t know it. I don’t know if I should …

Corgan: No, no, no. Be careful.

[Wretzky laughs.]

Corgan: Be careful. I don’t know what you’re gonna say, but when you get that laugh, I know something’s gonna piss me off.

Wretzky: It wouldn’t piss you off. It might piss James off though.

Corgan: I really don’t want you to say it then.

Wretzky: James, are you even paying attention?

Iha: Yeah, I’m paying attention.

Corgan: Next question.

Wretzky: Are you awake over there?

ATN: But what you’re saying is that something is in your subconscious and — is this what you’re saying? — you don’t even realize it.

Wretzky: Yeah, you write this song …

Corgan: Right. You really like it.

Wretzky: It sounds exactly like so-and-so. Puff Daddy or whatever. And you’re like, ‘Shit!’ Now you have to just can it, throw it away.

Corgan: We’ve thrown away a lot of songs because you just unconsciously do things that you think is intuitive and then you realize you’re aping Boston.

Wretzky: I don’t think most people would do that. Most people would be like, ‘I don’t care, it’s a great song. Let’s put it on the album.’

Corgan: There’s two, three songs I’ve heard in the past two months on the radio that are like pretty much just straight rip-offs of Pumpkins songs. It’s kind of flattering in a way, but at the same time I know that they know that they’re ripping us off. It’s undeniable. We found ourselves in that position plenty of times. We just can it. Don’t even go there. It’s not worth your own personal integrity to do something because it makes sense or something, or you justify it because it’s a hit. Who the fuck cares?

Wretzky: A formula.

ATN: Has success brought happiness?

[bandmembers laugh]

Corgan: No, no, it’s not like that.

Wretzky: It’s not that it’s made us miserable.

Corgan: I think success has taught us a lot — good and bad — about the world. And I think it’s probably gonna unlock doors to how to have personal happiness. You learn to find out what’s really important.

Wretzky: It’s like an accelerator.

Corgan: Yeah, it makes you grow up faster.

Wretzky: If you can deal with that.

Iha: Or you get burned.

Wretzky: Some people just can’t.

Corgan: You learn things, like that the band is more important than any fan, critic — you know what I’m saying? Anything outside your world is not as important as what you feel about each other. The music that you make is more important than what anybody thinks about it. The way you are, the way you lead your life. You know what I’m saying? You learn a value system that’s very, very real because it’s tested almost every day. But it’s not like I sit home and gloat. It’s not about that. Then what would be the reverse question? If this album’s a failure, does that mean we’re gonna be miserable people? I don’t think so. When I think about happiness with the band, I think about all these great concerts and writing great songs. I don’t think about a pile of money. It’s not really that important to me.

Wretzky: We don’t have time to spend it anyway.

Corgan: Yeah, right.

ATN: What has success brought? What has being in the position that you’re in now, which is a relatively unique one, brought?

Iha: Freedom, I think.

Corgan: I don’t know about that.

Wretzky: In a sense. But in another sense, no.

Iha: Well, for me, we can go out, we can buy a guitar if we like it. Or we can buy a keyboard or a computer system. Be able to afford to make this kind of record [Adore] — literally afford to. Whereas I think if we were a beginning band — not that we would make this kind of record — but we wouldn’t be able to. It just wouldn’t be in our realm of thought to even have this kind of stuff at our disposal to experiment with. In that sense, I think it’s a freedom.

Wretzky: I don’t know, sort of the same thing James was saying and the same thing we were talking about before. Just the accelerated everything, teaching you so much, learning so much. I feel like you can just deal and take care of yourself in any situation.

Corgan: It’s like going to college for 10 years.

Wretzky: And then getting the job for 10 more.

Corgan: Yeah, right.

Iha: I don’t have to sleep on bass amps anymore. I’m happy about that.

Wretzky: Yeah.

Iha: I’m happy about that.

[Corgan laughs]

Iha: I was just thinking about that. We used to have this van, we’d put this piece of plywood in and somebody would sleep on the plywood. I just always remember looking at the ceiling. It was right above my head. I’d just look at all the different parts.

Corgan: Then fall asleep.

Iha: Then I’d fall asleep. And then I’d wake up and be like, ‘Where are we?’ Then I’d look back at the ceiling and fall asleep.

ATN: Does that seem like a million years away?

Wretzky: No. Not far enough.

Corgan: You feel like you’ve lived a million years, but when you talk about something like that, it’s not that far away.

Wretzky: Seems like it was too close for comfort.

Corgan: Brings you right back.

Wretzky: Yeah.

ATN: What are the things that motivate or inspire you?

Wretzky: Riding on the amp in back of the van. We don’t want to do that anymore.

Corgan: There’s the key motivation.

Wretzky: So we’ll do anything we have to not to have to do that anymore. [laughs]

Corgan: What are the things that motivate us to do what? To write?

ATN: Yeah, or just what gets you out of bed in the morning?

Iha: The dog.

Corgan: I think for us it’s like trying to provide consistent challenges for ourselves. You know, when we first started, it was our goal to play Cabaret Metro, which is like 1,000 people, and where Dinosaur Jr would play or something. That was the goal. To even play there.

So we’ve set different goals, and as we’ve grown and changed, the goals have become deeper — like, let’s make an uncompromising artistic album that goes against what people would expect from us. These are great challenges to take on. I think that’s what gets my juices going.

I think doing the obvious and doing the expected is so boring, ’cause then you’re just a puppet for everybody else. It’s like it takes you being yourself to even get in the game. And then once you get in the game, then you just become a puppet like everybody else. I mean, part of the reason we even got in the game was because we were so sick of the way that everybody was a fucking puppet. So that’s kind of what motivates us to be our own people.

We’ve succeeded despite what anybody thinks, you know. We’ve made a real visceral connection with … your normal person on the street actually listens to our music and cares, you know. We’re not a band that’s puffed up in the media but doesn’t really have any substance with real people. We’ve made real inroads to be part of the world that we live in. That’s a great thing to do.

So as we get older, the challenges get more specific and interesting. Like, we’re playing in Europe in a couple of weeks, we’re playing at Tivoli Gardens or we’re playing in front of the Guggenheim. It’s just cool, weird shit, you know? We’ve done most of all the other stuff that you’re supposed to do, you know? We’ve been on the cover of this and we headlined that and we’ve …

Iha: Been on “The Simpsons.”

Corgan: Been on “The Simpsons.”

ATN: Did you see that story in the New York Times maybe a month or so ago? This guy made this case that the album was dead.

Corgan: He’s probably right.

Wretzky: I believe that, yeah.

Corgan: I agree to a certain extent. I think that, ultimately, people are gonna get to the point where they’re gonna start releasing more of an EP form. Rather than wait every two years to get an album from your favorite artist, you get something every year that will have six or eight songs on it, and remixes or something. So there will be more consistency in what you’ll hear from your favorite bands. Kind of extended singles or something, you know. Then the work would be compiled every two or three years, or something. It just takes too much time in the modern era to make an album, tour an album, promote an album and everything. That’s kind of what we’re reacting against as well. That’s why we’re starting another album in September.

Source: Starla.org

Jeff Schroeder, the guitarist of The Smashing Pumpkins, gives us the inside scoop on the resurgent band, drops hints about the forthcoming album and explains how a Ph.D. in literature fits into the picture.

Jeff Schroeder is no James Iha, the original guitarist for The Smashing Pumpkins. He’s better. Yeah, I said it. He can actually hang musically with Billy Corgan, the tortured genius behind the Pumpkins’ signature guitar- heavy sound. Other ways Jeff isn’t James: Jeff isn’t Japanese American. He’s biracial—Korean and Caucasian. Jeff didn’t drop out of college like James; in fact, he’s finishing his Ph.D. in comparative literature at UCLA. And Jeff, unlike James, is actually on speaking terms with Billy.

I stress their differences to make a larger point: This ain’t the ’90s anymore. And it would behoove fans to remember that, if they happen to catch the band on their 12-city U.S. warm-up tour this fall in preparation for what promises to be a busy 2012 for the reinvigorated band, packed with more tour dates, reissues of their past catalog and a brand new album, Oceania. Be forewarned, though, the Pumpkins aren’t interested in reliving the past.

“We’re not going to be a ’90s retro nostalgia band,” Jeff insists. “We have no desire to do that. We’ve been offered tours with other ’90s bands. We just honestly feel like it’s the kiss of death. Once you’ve done that, you’ve accepted that your moment in the present is over, and all you can do is recreate people’s past fantasies.”

Oddly enough, Jeff was one of those people. As a teenager growing up in Orange County, California, in the early 1990s, he, like many of his peers, loved The Smashing Pumpkins, one of that decade’ s most commercially successful and critically acclaimed bands.

And like many teenagers with even a passing knowledge of power chords, he fantasized about being in the band. Fantasize, perhaps, isn’t the right word because it implies he was divorced from reality. A gifted musician, he channeled his alienation as one of the few hapa kids in an otherwise monochromatic environment into hours upon hours of practicing guitar in isolation, developing a particular set of musical influences that happened to match the Pumpkins’: the muscular arena-rock of Kiss, the technical prowess of Deep Purple, the jangly elemental mope-rock of Echo and the Bunnymen. So Jeff’s boyhood dreams of joining rock royalty weren’t so quixotic.

On the other hand, to say he had a premonition of his musical future puts too fine a point on it. Whatever you call it, Jeff shared a deep musical connection with the band. “When you’re a musician, [because of] the way you hear and understand music, [if] you can identify with a band on a musical level, that’s really rare,” he explains. “[The Pumpkins were] really a band I could see myself being in. I felt like I was meant to be in that band.”

Flash forward a decade-and-a-half later to 2007: Jeff has garnered a modest following in L.A.’s indie rock scene with his shoe-gaze band, The Lassie Foundation, when a friend informs him that The Smashing Pumpkins are looking for a guitarist. Jeff manages to book an audition and, after three months of jamming with Billy and Jimmy Chamberlain, the original drummer, Jeff eventually lands the job. He was the first person to try out.

Perhaps it was meant to be.

But actually being in The Smashing Pumpkins isn’t exactly how you might picture it.

Two hours before the band is set to kick off its fall tour with a sold-out show in Los Angeles, I’m interviewing Jeff in an unadorned dressing room in the bowels of the Wiltern Theater. Jeff has to run off to give a backstage pass to a woman checking out the show. Girlfriend? Groupie? Nope. His feisty Korean mother, whom Jeff lovingly calls a “renegade,” who always encouraged his creativity.

If Hollywood celebs are loitering backstage, they might be in Billy’s dressing room, but otherwise—“If you go backstage, the only thing you’re going to find is water,” Jeff says, chuckling. He also attests that the current members—which include Nicole Fiorentino, formerly of Veruca Salt, on bass and 21-year-old wunderkind Mike Byrne on drums—genuinely get along. Growing up the youngest of two boys, Jeff admits he quite enjoys playfully filling the role of the mean older brother to Mike, more than 15 years his junior.

For anyone familiar with the band’ s tumultuous history—the battle of egos, the lawsuits, the drug addiction—this placid portrait doesn’t quite jibe.

“I think people are shocked,” Jeff muses. “I think they expect Billy to be sitting there telling everybody what to do and how to do it, and we’re sitting there actually joking around and getting along after months of being in the same building for 12 hours a day. I think people are tripped out a little by it. ‘It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re supposed to hate each other.’”

Neither Jeff nor Billy expected things would turn out this way. “When I first joined the band, it was really awkward,” admits Jeff, who found himself tiptoeing through 20 years of baggage between Billy and Jimmy. “I understood it was definitely going to be more of a professional thing. A true friendship [with Billy] grew over years. Going through things like Jimmy leaving and playing hundreds of shows together and going through the ups and downs of being in a band. And through the consistency of being there for each other, we’ve actually developed a very true and real friendship.

“Once it turned into where it was me, Mike and Nicole, Billy was like, ‘Wow, I didn’t think I would ever have this feeling of a band again.’”

On the band’s website, Billy expresses his hopefulness: “It is the first time I have felt totally comfortable in a band situation since 1996, and that surprises me. I have no crystal ball of how long we will last together, but I hope we last for a very long time. We are doing each day what a band is supposed to do, which is make a new kind of music together.”

Just last month, Billy was also interviewed by Crestfallen.com, a news blog about The Smashing Pumpkins, and had some kind words to share about his bandmate. “Jeff, in many ways, is a far superior guitar player to me. He raises the quality of my playing in order to keep up with him. His integrity level for the pure vision of Smashing Pumpkins is very, very high,” said Billy. “And he’s a total musicologist, and he gets it, and he really understands where we can still go. He’s probably the No. 1 person in the band right now who’s saying, ‘We can do this. We can do this.’

The first test of the current line-up’s longevity will be released early next year. Oceania is the first full-length studio album featuring the new bandmates. And, yes, unlike some past albums where Billy played virtually everything, Jeff confirms that Oceania is a “whole band effort” and one that they are extremely proud of. “So far everybody we’ve played it for has been pleasantly shocked. I don’t think people really thought the band could make something this good,” Jeff beams. He hints that Oceania won’t be as heavy as past efforts, “In this day and age, with what’s going on politically and socially, it just feels right to play something that’s a little more spacey and dreamy. We want music to move people on an emotional level.”

The album is part of a larger 44- song collection titled Teargarden by Kaleidyscope, individual tracks of which have been released on the band’s website. Failing to gain much traction with this piecemeal approach, the band decided to make a bigger splash with a full album release. And according to Jeff, feeling energized by the newfound cohesion, they resolved, “Let’s make the music high-quality. Let’s work harder on this than anything we’ve ever worked on together.” Hence, Oceania also marks the Pumpkins’ most assertive statement that they are a band both relevant and current. And they haven’t been shy about saying that they have a lot riding on it.

Billy, however, has since dialed back his assertion that Oceania is a make-or-break album, and Jeff further clarifies, “Not that we won’t play as a band anymore if the record isn’t a hit. We just have to re-evaluate how we function. Because maybe we won’t do it full-time anymore. The pressure has been on us to make really high-quality music to put us in a position to thrive at the level we want to. That’s more what we meant, not that we’re going to break up if this doesn’t do well.”

Scaling back might not be such a bad proposition for Jeff. In his estimation, he’s used up all of his leave of absences

from his Ph.D. program and must finish his as-yet-untitled dissertation on avant garde Asian American literature within the following year. And while it might be difficult time-wise to juggle music and his scholarly pursuits, Jeff insists that, for him, the two go hand- in-hand. “I’ m into literature and music the same way. To me it informs who I am and not something that I like to separate. You read the right book, it can influence your guitar playing more than any record could.”

He also credits literature for helping him understand his ethnic identity and broadening his perspective, and hopes to one day return the favor. “Teaching is a form of giving back. I had professors that transformed me, that really opened up a world that I would never have known. I love teaching. If you can facilitate pushing someone’s mind and opening up a door, that is the most rewarding thing.”

For now, though, professorships will have to be on hold. The Pumpkins are back in full force, and they’re out to conquer a new decade. Some fans may not be quite ready to let go of the past, but Jeff and the rest of the band are charging too hard, too fast, too loud to wait for them.

Source: KoreAm

Over two decades after the Smashing Pumpkins first brought their amalgamation of psychedelia, dream pop, shoegazer and hard rock to the masses, Billy Corgan is on his eighth studio album with the Pumpkins, Oceania. With Corgan, guitarist Jeff Schroeder, bass player Nicole Fiorentino and drummer Michael William Byrne in the fold, the Pumpkins have fashioned a lush, assertive, sensitive opus in Oceania, with distorted guitars, rousing melodies and, of course, lots of singing Gibsons.

Hours before the band’s Detroit stop of their Oceania Tour 2012, Corgan and Schroeder chatted with Gibson.com about the band’s trajectory, their go-to Gibsons and what particular guitar Corgan famously used on Pumpkins classic “Tonight, Tonight.”

Billy, when you started the Smashing Pumpkins decades ago, did you have any idea the band would become such a pioneering musical influence?

Corgan: No, I didn’t. I think that’s because in the beginning, our whole mentality was just to get out of Chicago and get a record deal. You don’t start thinking of those other goals or those other aspirations until you achieve something on which you can build. We saw over and over again around us, bands that were being called the next-big-thing in Chicago and would never get past the state line as far as national interest. So, it’s surprising. There were a lot of years there where the band wasn’t name checked, which seemed strange to me, because I knew we had influenced a lot of bands. But really, in the last five years, all of a sudden, people are really name checking the band, which is cool. It’s nice.

Why do you think people are naming the band as an influence so much more now?

Corgan: I think maybe the values that the band represents are like a fine wine: They’ve gotten better over time. There were a lot of value systems that were around the band where people pretended they were cooler or more indie, and those have kind of fallen by the wayside. I think that being musical and the integrity of having your own musical language is more important over time than whether somebody likes you or whether you’re popular. Even though we were popular at different times, we did a lot of things that were highly unpopular, so it’s not like we just had this beautiful arc across the horizon. Our walk through the ‘90s was extremely contentious, and so was my walk through the 2000s, mostly personally. So, it’s surprising for me to now see that the confluence of visual images, the overall musical aesthetic of the band and the actual language of the band is now being commonly referred to in a way that has become part of the greater lexicon of people’s language, and to me, that’s the biggest honor you can have as a musician. It’s to the point where people can play something, and people can say, “That sounds like the Smashing Pumpkins.” That’s one of the biggest honors a musician can get. That’s the unofficial honor.

What are your current go-to Gibson guitars?

Schroeder: I play a lot of Les Pauls, but I have a few different kinds of Gibsons that I play now. My main E natural guitar is a Les Paul Iced T Sunburst with a ‘60s neck that I really like a lot. It kind of looks like a Jimmy Page, Led Zeppelin era guitar. I’ve also been playing a Goldtop reissue with a ‘50s neck and a white Les Paul Custom. I really like them all. They all sound different. They’re all really good for different applications

Corgan: Onstage for this current tour, I have an early ‘70s Firebird. In the studio, I use a lot of Gibsons. I have a mid-‘70s 335 that was most famously used on “Tonight Tonight.” It’s that chiming guitar sound. It’s one of those guitars that has a switch on it, so you can switch between a single coil and a humbucker. I have a really incredible ’54 Les Paul Bigsby and a ’72 Les Paul Custom that’s like a Jimmy Page guitar. We also have a ’78 Les Paul that sounds a little bit more like Randy Rhoads to me. It reminds me of what guys were sounding like the in late-‘70s. It has more of a glassy sound to the tone. And I have a ton of Gibson acoustics. I have a lot of Gibsons that I use in the studio, because it’s just part of the stew we make.

What makes Gibsons special and the right fit for the Pumpkins?

Schroeder: People always say, “Oh, this sounds like a Les Paul guitar,” but nothing sounds like it. Get the right Les Paul with the right amp, and it’s just an aggressive, big rock sound that’s become iconic. There’s nothing that can replicate it. I have yet to find a guitar that sounds like a Les Paul that isn’t a Les Paul.

Corgan: For me, the thing I notice that stands out about Gibson as a brand name, first, is their ease of play. They’re the easiest kinds of guitars to play. To use a modern term, they’re very user friendly. Secondarily, there’s a real consistency in Gibsons. You don’t have to work really hard to get a great sound out of a Gibson guitar. They just sound really great out of the box. Other brands, you have to really jerk around with. You can pretty much take about any amp, crank it up, plug in a Gibson guitar and it’s going to sound really good right out of the box.

Jeff, you joined the Smashing Pumpkins about six years ago. How were you introduced to Billy and the band?

Schroeder: What happened was that a friend of a friend who was interning at the management company was asked, “Hey, if you know of anybody you could recommend for the band, they’re getting back together, but they need a guitarist and a bass player.” I hadn’t ever tried out for a band before, so I didn’t have a bio or a photo or anything like that, so I put something together and sent it off, and six years later, here I am. But I didn’t know Billy at all. I was a complete stranger.

Billy, what were you looking for in a guitarist when you found Jeff?

Corgan: Even though the Pumpkins’ music, on the whole, isn’t as technical as, say, if you play Megadeth, our stylistic blend of ‘80s shoegazer influences from the U.K. mixed with ‘70s hard rock and ‘60s psychedelia, that mixture of influences is super rare. It’s not like there are thousands of people who play like that. So Jeff, just personally, was into that kind of stuff and had seen the band back in the day and kind of understood it in a way that came from him. It’s funny, because I’ve been in the situation of auditioning people a few times, and you can meet people who are really highly skilled, but if they don’t have a particular taste in their playing, I don’t really know how to judge how they are as a musician. So, it was really easy in the beginning to judge that Jeff was a really good musician. But even then, it took us a long time to synergize the way he plays with how I play, because at the end of the day, the band is also about adapting to the people in the band and creating harmony in the way we play together.

Jeff, what did you want to bring to the sound of the Smashing Pumpkins and, specifically, Oceania?

Schroeder: I don’t think it was that much of a personal thing, because we had been playing together for a while before recording Oceania. We’d spent many, many hours playing together and working on new material, so it wasn’t like one day I said, “Oh, I want to play like this on the record.” It’s something that evolved over time. I think, basically, my goal or my role in the band is to be a complementary voice to not only Billy’s guitar playing but his vocals. Just finding another melodic counterpoint to go along with what’s already there. I think that’s how I see my role and how I fit in.

How do you get the characteristic Smashing Pumpkins tone?

Corgan: I think if you want to get the Gibson end of the Pumpkins sound, you take any amp that has a pretty good pre-amp in it, and the treble is probably not going to go any higher than about 3 o’clock. You want the treble on 2 or 3 o’clock. You don’t want the highs too cranky. You want to scoop the mids a bit, so the mids are probably somewhere in the range of 10 o’clock, and then the bass is in the range of 3 o’clock. So, you want bass but not too much bass, you want treble but not too much treble and you want to scoop the mids, and that’s pretty much where you start. And crank the pre-amp all the way up.

Schroeder: That’s half of it, and then I know a lot of people with the Pumpkins get really caught up with, “What pedal is it? What distortion is it?” But from being an outsider and having to learn the material and get it to sound right, I would say a lot of it is honestly the construction of the riffs themselves. It’s how Billy plays and writes. That’s 50% of the sound. You could get the right guitar and the right amp and still not have the same sound. It’s a very unique style of guitar playing that, even though I was very familiar with the band and liked the band and thought I could play some of the songs… if you really want to play it right and get it to sound like Smashing Pumpkins, it’s a very unique style of guitar playing. It’s very difficult to emulate, which I think why you can’t find a lot of bands who can just easily sound like the Smashing Pumpkins, because it’s a guitar style that you can’t just figure out easily.

What’s next for the Smashing Pumpkins?

Corgan: We’re planning to start writing a new album. We’re also trying to find new ways to be creative. As we see the disintegration of the record business and maybe the rise of the band business, how are bands going to survive and thrive in the 21st century? So we have a lot of work to do as far as how to take the Smashing Pumpkins into the future and not be enslaved by a business, which is basically dying. To give props to Gibson, Gibson is an American company, and it’s based around quality. And I don’t think that’s any different than how we look at it all. We’re an American company, and our future is based on whether or not we can deliver a level of quality that is unique. What Jeff was saying is right, in that anybody can say, “Oh, I built a guitar that sounds just like a Les Paul” or a “Les Paul-like guitar,” but there’s something magical when the people who know how to do it really do it, and I think that’s the way we look at what we do. There are few bands playing who can really do what we do. We know it’s not for everyone, but in a way, that almost encourages us to do it more, because that’s the only thing that keeps us going. There are 900 bands now that all sound the same, and nobody knows their names, and we don’t understand that culture that sort of celebrates ubiquity. We look at it like we just have to be more of who we are. The old record business almost asks you to be less of who you are to fit in, and I think those days are over.

Source: Gibson Guitar Part 1, Part 2

Billy Corgan of the Smashing Pumpkins can’t think of one new rock album that turned him on in 1998. “You don’t want to know what’s in my CD changer,” the singer, guitarist and songwriter warns before running down his current hit list: Best of Mountain; Songs From the Trilogy, by Philip Glass; a ’77 live album by Rainbow; a disc from the Lynyrd Skynyrd box set; a UFO best-of album; Maria Callas singing Madame Butterfly. “I’m reluctant to talk about what the next Pumpkins record is going to sound like,” Corgan cracks, “but I will tell you that it’s going to sound a lot like Mountain.

Six months after the release of the band’s latest record, Adore, Corgan is working on a new Pumpkins LP. He has written fourteen songs and, with guitarist James Iha and bassist D’Arcy, will soon cut tracks with Flood, who co-produced the group’s 1995 megaseller, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. In spite of what Corgan calls “the cumulative toll” of the past year, particularly the tepid public response to Adore, the Pumpkins are far from the breakup point.

It has been a mixed-blessing ’98. To date, Adore has sold about 830,000 copies in the U.S.- far less than Mellon Collie and the Pumpkins’ 1993 smash, Siamese Dream (4.2 million copies each). A planned series of free outdoor Pumpkins shows in the U.S. fell through, and Corgan’s songwriting contributions to Hole’s Celebrity Skin became a bone of public contention between Corgan and Hole’s Courtney Love.

But it was a good year on tour. In Europe, the Pumpkins played well-received shows in unconventional venues; the band also did charity gigs in fifteen North American cities, donating more than $2.7 million in proceeds to organizations like Hale House, in New York, and the Make-a-Wish Foundation in Chicago.

Corgan declines to talk about the Hole album; he hasn’t listened to the final produced (“Bad taste in my mouth,” he says). He will talk only off the record about Marilyn Manson’s Mechanical Animals, which he was involved with in an early advisory capacity. But Corgan speaks frankly about his disappointments, the lessons learned and the immediate future. He says that the best thing to come out of Adore is “a reaffirmation that I love music. And I love to perform. But I gotta do it my way.”

How would you describe the past year – as a success, a failure or inconclusive?

My definitions of success have changed. If you’d asked me that question a year and a half ago, and I knew what I know now, I would say it was a failure, definitely. The person sitting in front of you – he believes it’s a success. You’re talking to a guy who in a two-year span hit every high, then lost his mother, lost his drummer – the person he was closest to in the band – and got divorced. Pumpkins or no Pumpkins, that’s head- check time. To have gone through that tunnel and come out the other side – I’m happy.

If you had Adore to do all over again, is there anything you would do differently?

I would have gone further with the vision of the record. I would have made it more opaque, more dense, more hard to reach. At some point along the way, I tried to pull it in a little bit. The most amazing compliment I get on this album is, people pull me aside and go, “I have been listening to this record over and over again. I can’t get it out of my stereo. When I first listened to it, I thought it was kind of OK. But it snuck up on me and hit me like a ton of bricks.” Maybe it’s like a Lou Reed, Berlin kind of record, where it’s got to sit for a while, be digested and maybe get away from the politic of a certain time.

What is it about Adore that people have misunderstood?

When I was on Howard Stern – I know this pissed a lot of people off – he asked me about being disappointed about the record. I said, “Well, I’m disappointed with our fans.” Which, you can imagine, lighted up the fucking Internet. What I was saying was, if I put out what is apparently a testy record, at least give me the chance. Listen to it and then tell me you don’t like it. I don’t think I got that chance.

Were you surprised at the lack of audience loyalty?

There’s definitely the moment where you go, “What happened?” You have this feeling of desertion: Maybe they don’t love you anymore. But then you realize it’s not about that. It’s not a negative energy. You have not created the positive energy, whatever it takes – that kinetic connection. At the end of the day, if people do not connect with Adore, that is my responsibility. But in fifteen years, if somebody pulls me over and says, “Adore is the best record you ever did,” I’m gonna fall over laughing. When I saw you in the studio during the Adore sessions in January, you were recording a song, “Let Me Give the World to You,” that sounded like a total hit.

Why didn’t you put it on the album?

Didn’t fit. And I knew it was a hit song. There was another song you didn’t hear that was a total hit song, a heavier song. I would play it for people and this is what they would say: “maximum KROQ rotation.” There’s no better example I can give you of the integrity that I tried to put into that record. I knew I was cutting my own wrist. But it’s like a test, and I stayed the course. Not only through the album, but through the tour. Now that I’ve passed that test, I don’t have that doubt about myself anymore. Whatever my integrity test in my head was, I passed.

When Adore came out, you went right to Europe and played some unusual venues.

We played a botanical garden in Brussels. We played Tivoli Gardens, in Copenhagen. We played on the water somewhere in Sweden. We did all these crazy things, and then energy was so amazing. Then we come to America and it’s like [makes the sound of squealing brakes]. That was weird, because we came in with such a positive energy, and we’d set up the charity tour.

What was the inspiration for the charity shows?

The original impetus was, we wanted to play free in twenty American cities: Give us your park, we’ll set it up. It was that Seventies feeling – out in the park, listening to music. We thought it would be fantastic. And we got no, no, no, from everywhere, including Chicago. [The Pumpkins ultimately played a free show in Minneapolis for 100,000 people.]

How did the free tour then turn into a charity tour?

We didn’t want to let go of the idea of doing something different. The whole thing was to stick with the vibe of Adore through thick and thin. So we thought, “We’ll do theaters but give the money away. And if we are going to give money away, are we giving enough away? What is the point of rolling in, saying it’s for charity and giving twenty grand?” That’s when we decided to belly up to the bar and put our money where our mouths are.

What about the shows? On the first night at Radio City Music Hall, in New York, you encored with “Transmission,” by Joy Division, and pulled kids from the audience onstage.

It started as a spontaneous act. Then we put it in the show, because it was too perfect. If we had a good show, we played “Transmission.” At the end, we’d pull kids out of the audience and give them our instruments. We’d leave the stage and the kids would continue to play. The sound, the exuberant teenage cacophony, was the beautiful way to end it. I remember, after we played in L.A., Gene Simmons from Kiss saying, “That’s one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen in my life, for you to break the fourth wall and make the audience part of the show.” Which is a pretty good compliment, because he’s a consummate showman.

Were there any other inspiring nights?

We were so confident that did five or six shows where we did the whole Adore album, all fifteen songs – if you don’t count the last joke [the short piano coda "17"].

Did you play the songs in the same order as on the record?

Nope. That would have been suicide. Playing the whole fucking album, that’s pretty close. On the entire tour, we played at most five songs from Mellon Collie. We did no songs from before Mellon Collie. Everything else was Adore. We went up with it – and we sank with it. In the 1960′s, superstars like the Beatles and the Beach Boys wee releasing two albums a year, plus singles. The industry standard now is two years between albums; you had a three-year gap between Mellon Collie and Adore.

Don’t you think that has a lot to do with the problem of audience loyalty?

You want to know what’s funny? Some people in my world think we didn’t wait long enough, because the Mellon Collie wave was so strong: “The people didn’t have a chance to get away from you.” There’s a thought in the music business that you have to have a downtime so that people can stop being sick of you. Now for someone like me, who writes thirty-plus songs a year, what the fuck am I supposed to do? I can only put out so many B sides.
The desire to hit a big home run is dominating the music business. And the idea of great music finding a good audience is not enough – to the music business.

Which leads to my next question: Is rock dead? If so, does it matter?

Believe it or not, I’m guilty of saying the same thing [laughs]. I’m on Howard Stern; I say rock is dead. Angry phone calls: “Nashville Pussy are better than you guys.” I don’t care. Rock & roll is not about what you play, it’s about how you play it. It’s the spirit, OK? My rock & roll – alternative music – has been co-opted, become something easily imitable. So when I seek inside myself for what I want to do, my guide is: Is it pushy? Is it edgy? Is it going to make people uncomfortable? For the first four years of the Pumpkins, we didn’t get a lot of applause. We got a lot of head scratching. Then we got a lot of applause and patted ourselves on the backs for being so smart. Look where it got us. It’s hard to go back to the head scratching, but maybe that’s what you gotta do. It is that uncomfortableness, that uncertainty, that is the heart of rock & roll.

When you look at the Billboard album charts now, are you pissed that you’re not up there with ‘N Sync and Shania Twain? Or relieved?

Neither. On a cultural- observation level, I’m horrified, because there doesn’t seem to be any value. But this is not new. We kid ourselves into thinking, “Ha, ha, ha, the Seventies will never happen again.” But I look around and everyone’s doing cocaine and listening to techno while they’re drinking their cappuccinos – what’s the difference here?

Have you ever listened to a Backstreet Boys record just to see what the hoopla is about?

No. I have a kind of pleasant apathy toward all that kind of stuff. It doesn’t disturb me. What disturbs me is things that are given more weight than they deserve. There is so much that is disappointingly unreaching and unprogressive. But that’s not what the charts are about. Bob Dylan has never had a triple-platinum album. Frank Zappa had one Top Ten LP in his lifetime. Nick Drake died without having a record on any chart. The point is, do you want to be loved now, or do you want to be remembered?

But if you can’t have both…

I don’t have any sentimental notion about how people are going to remember me. I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life playing clubs, if that means I’m playing music that I believe in. Don’t forget, I’ve tasted the top. There were great moments, and there were shitty moments. But I won’t go to my grave wondering what it was like. I hit a home run in the World Series. Even if they send me back to the minors, I did it.

Thanks to Bountiful_Wasteland for extracting all the questions and answers!

Source: Facebook

SOOTHE- recorded in me bedroom at my old apartment. you can hear the 7am buses slithering by. I used to go XX to sleep to the flanging car noises. the hiss that we had missed. i really only wanted this to be for me. but my friend said ‘i really don’t think you can improve on that. so i left it be. a song for my babies. children of the earth and such. i wanted to put this on siamese dream but i x whimped out. shoulda coulda kinda didn’t but i love it anyhow, makes me cry.

PLUME- a groover from from the iha file- assembled i – in same said bedroom and recorded only a couple days later in kerry’s studio. another demo thing that turned ugly and mean and got released. we didn’t have a bass so we ‘borrowed’ eric from deep blue dream’s- -he never knew and were sorry we didn’t tell you eric but it still sounds good. i know i wrote some of these lx lyrics waiting for my dad to pick me up from the aeroport. my boredom has outshined the sun. sometimes you don’t spend as much time on the lyrics- and sometimes they’re better-more how you REALLY feel. plume features the maestro phase, on loan from matt s. if you subtract our two albums-there are 27 more songs, at least that have been released. there are another 15 to 20 to 30 hidden away but they aren’t even very good. i went back and listened to it all because i didn’t want you to be bored, and i also decided to leave drown and glynis well enough alone. so ther are 25 songs left to choose from cause well whatever but of the 25 out there were 3 more hidden away. 27-2=30 27-2+30-30+3=pXXXXs XXXXXXXXXoonteen in all (count ‘em)? fourteen. it all kinda goes together in some sort of way

FRAIL AND BEDAZZLED- written for the monolith in 92– we just never got around to investing the proper time into this lullaby we recorded this in about 1 hour, and i wished we had spent more time, but … another X message(*2) from the me vs. rock file. wrote these lyrics in the parking garage where i used to live/rehearse. it was very cold in there- but quiet. you could hear the squeaking tires at night, sounded like ghosts or something, but i wrote this message from me to me to you. infinite lost at word sea.

WHIR–another recorded in an hour type thingers that has been in the box. part of the glynis lineage lineage-sweeet and saddness i’ve wasted all my years. i must have written that line a zillion times, it just ended up here. sometimes when i listen to this i hear who we really are. frail and gentle- it is what is. rock powerx100.. note scary ending we would play that part for 15 minutes dum-de-dum-de dum. frail and bedazzled owes a great debt to the band skunK, with who i ripped part of this song off. skunk was probably the greatest band that i ever knew/saw that is virtual: unknown-even less than the frogs. frogs. skunk. i miss skunk.

BLEW AWAY- written by and produced by the man himself, welcome to james. quiet and cool and whispered. this is a beautiful song. the only song we have ever done that i was not 9did not stick my nose i
nto)and i am glad i didn’t. not to be confused with blue. and if you love her… blew away has kerry playing drums cause jimmy was on vacation.

PISSANT- is one of the few things we have ever recorded live. done during the siamese dream sessions late at night and full of teenage pain. i made up all these lyrics in 10 minutes got my raygun, got me an altitude, can’t help feeling somethings wrong with everyone of everyone of you- don’t know what it’s about don’t care rawk. kerry and d”arcy tried to talk me into putting this one the album- and i was tempted, but no i just couldn’t see it in there XXXX amongst the tall trees. not as much shade or room for the little ones.

HELLO KITTY KAT- now this song was a toughy because i really had intended to put this on that album. but the ghosts of gish said no no no so i left it alone kinda because i really destroyed the mix. my most passive aggresive song. say hello before you say goodbye i should go before you make me cry she wants to bleed every drop inside of me but i aim to please the little girl inside of me too you know i hate say i always stay i don’t want to be like the others please who”s sorry now if is how you how………….love to love to love what you adore.skgjgdfbdgkjdgkjdgjgblghph hnb dbkej;eb assembled a somewhat continuous collection of this.

OBSCURED- is old because it was originally supposed to be on the lull e.p which was really supposed to be a single but they tricked me. written during gish recordings we have finished it and let it sit for 2 years and then it ca came out as the b side of today i in the uk. the darkland. so it was all my friends tapes and supposed to be on the next one but i swore i would never do it again re- record one of our own songs because it is lame to do so. 1991.what a year. such a pretty song, sunday in the park music chicagofest.

LANDSLIDE- is a stevie nicks song. i fell in love with this song and forced myself to learn it XXX because i’m very bad at figuring out songs by other people. of course i learned it totally the wrong way and after it was recorded jimmy from the frogs showed me the easier way to play it. this song is very relevant to my life at the moment still, and that is why i love to sing it. Landslide was recorded at the bbc, not my most most favorite place to record. they are still in 1971 but todd the producer man was very nice. the recording is way too hissy and we’re sorry but it is the fault of the bbc, whose financial raping of us to use this song and sandoz almost didn’t make putting these songs out possible. but it is here,

STARLA- my friend aneta still says to me that this song should have been on siamese dream. but back again to that no record 2x rule. this was recorded at the same time as plume, and was also intended to be a demo, but we needed b-sides for our pretty XXXXXXXXXNX worthless i am one u.k. single (the dark continent) so in a way plume and starla were their own single if that make makes any sense at all. recorded over time, or recorded at two different sessions, one for vocals and solos and one for drums, etc,. another song with lyrics written at the last second. i wrote the middle part on the back of an eXXX envelope–serve yourself no one else can do for you like you and no one el else fails like me but in my eyes i i burn alive no more words just you and i high in the the sky–some of my favourite lyrics. better that i did not care so played at 7am. listen for the police car going by.

BLUE- is the only gish outtake represented here. from the lull single! viva lull and remastered by our man howie for yer listening pleasure. yet another sad happy song from the o’corrigan file. i thought about using an acoustic version of the song for this album, but it seemed silly to have a different version of an unknown song. maybe someday. on tour forever, blue i lay with you this velvet morning stay with me for a while a million yeses and no’s strewn across 6 long years. but it all adds up to something even if you are not quite sure of what that is.

A GIRL NAMED SANDOZ- from our XX slightly infamous john peel session. we of course showed t up expecting to meet john peel, but it’s not like that at all. we were 2 hours late due to some technical misunderstanding– but we were treated so poorly by this idiot who used to be the drummer from mott the supple that it is probably #1 on our all time worst experiences list. this was originally recorded by the animals roughly around the time that jimi hendrix went to england to become… well you catch my drift. vented thru to many years of out and out riffdom. this still sounds powerful to my jaded ears, i mean we meant it back then, but that was long ago. but that was long a go-go, so now listen hear, i want to be so oh so clear is so we only ended up recording 3 songs that day (siva and smiley too) because it was so uptight, but i’m glad we did tolerate that XXXXXXX mott the nipple that day even though i don’t think we would now. i met this girl in dallas when we were on tour with the chili peppa’s and that was where i got the idea for the name for the song
because when she said her name i thought wow, what a XXX .great title for a song. 2 1/4 years late later i run into this same girl at a party and i say did you hear that song we recorded using your name, starla? and she said, no my name is darla but heXy starla, darla whatever it doesn’t matter, so there you go. never trust a girl who ends up with well i can’t say. i am very proud of all these songs because they have persevered time and space and albums and most of all subjective opinion. yours truly included.

LA DOLLY VITA- so old yet it is kinda timeless in a strange way. i think it is because it has a dignity all it’s own. we also tried to re-record this for gish, but my heart was not in it. so many mistakes but the raygun is always on if i catch my assumption. mary’s always on the shoulder and the devil has his pitch fork on that backside of yours. la dolly vita, true as blue shy sky, cool as ice cream the b-side of our second single recorded with butch vig. we recorded this and tristessa on the same day somewhere in the past and it was also the first day XXXXXX we met butch v. still one of my favorite hidden songs, this brings back many memories. sorry, a tad too personal. be careful what you say but be careful what you don’t say.

SPACED-is kinda hard to explain so i won’t, but if you listen really close you can hear the 7 secrets of the 7 veils of apollo. part of the siamese debris collection. thanks for being and thanks for listening and thanks for getting angry and sad all at the same time. life is everything and nothing all at once-if i may filanthripize–1/2 and we hope we mean those things to you. till next sign
billy c.

somebody X comes up to you in a bar and asks them if you are who they think you are, and then you say if you know then i am and if you don’t then i’m not.special thanks to everyone for their continued support and a %$&* you to those who will never understand love, peace, empathy, desire, mischief, and gladness
2007

You can view scans of the liner notes in the pictures archive.

You’ll be hard pressed to find a record as oceanic yet ardent; a haze heat miasma of pure sound that The Smashing Pumpkins evoke with Gish.

Caroline Records’ first signing of 1991, Smashing Pumpkins have constructed a record of beautiful geometry. They hit upon a sound so singular that the influences from the 60′s, 70′s, and 80′s are almost indistinguishable. It’s a wondrous bit of aural alchemy turning lead into gold, noise into harmony.

Gish was a sublimely spiritual body of work. “Not in a God way, but in a personal way,” asserts singer/guitarist Billy Corgan. “It’s got a lot to do with me exorcising old demons, getting my act together, overcoming a lot of my shortcomings. It’s an extremely personal record.”

Precisely the sad and beautiful zeitgeist that permeates tracks like “Snail”, the track Corgan refers to as “the most mentally demanding thing I’ve ever done in my life. The deepest into my guts I’ve ever reached.” The Pumpkins’ wash of guitars, unsettling vocals, and disquieting tempo changes reflect this, in-excelsis. “The song ‘Snail’ is about avoiding, not doing what’s better for you, not facing up to the pain,” he continues. “It’s a theme that run throughout the album, ending up in the conclusion that it’s better to push your self. Believe it or not, it is an optimistic record.”

The son of a professional funk/jazz guitarist, weaned on the lessons of Bowie, Zeppelin, and The Stooges, Corgan began his musical career in the mid-80′s, relocating from his native Chicago down to Florida with a group called The Marked. “Being in that band taught me everything I had gotten into music for was total garbage,” he declares. “The whole sex, drugs, and rock and roll thing. It was shallow, everything the Pumpkins are not.”

Corgan came to his senses and returned to the Windy City, forming Smashing Pumpkins in 1988. With bassist D’arcy, guitarist James, and drummer Jimmy Chamberlin, they embarked on an instant buzz-generating series of gigs that included the opening slots for acts like Jane’s Addiction, The Buzzcocks, and Caterqaul. An early demo and instant collector’s item 7″, “I Am One” b/w “Not Worth Asking” on Limited Potential Records, proved the band had a stronger musical head than any number of group with a rainbow of limited edition colored vinyl behind them.

Though they garnered pricey promises from a clutch of other labels, Smashing Pumpkins for a less ostentatious, but tenfold more enthusiastic contract with Caroline. “We’re young, we’re still growing,” the singer concedes. A second limited edition 7″ for “Tristessa” b/w “La Dolly Vita” on Sub-Pop’s prestigious ‘Single Of The Month’ club won the band greater notice mere weeks before the band entered the studio with co-producer Butch Vig.

Gish is the result. Smashing Pumpkins is the band. A Listen will engulf you, but seeing them live at Louisville’s Snagilwet’s will give you a first hand experience. And when you wake you’ll still be dreaming.

On a particular cool night, I am making my usual trek to the liquor store to buy my step-mother cigarettes…she has given me a $20 bill, which to my 7 year old mind is a tremendous amount of money…the moon is full, and as always when it is, I feel the call of the wild in my bones…the clean air fills my head, and for the first time in my life I consider running away…of course, there is nowhere to go, no one to see…I imagine I can live for a little while on the 20 bucks, but of course will have no way to get any more money once it runs out…I figure the best place to live would be under an overpass bridge, but I will have to figure out where to get some blankets…I walk particularly slow, weighing each aspect of my decision with each step I take…the situation at home is so utterly toxic to my nerves that I cannot possibly stand another night…it is a rare moment where I only think of myself, leaving my younger brother and anyone else I love completely out of the question…there is no one to be seen on my walk thru the back alley behind the stores, it’s just me and the possibility of leaving for good…I come to figure that I will probably be caught, and will only get beat worse when I do…I have come to be used to the beatings, they are fairly regular now, it is just the waiting for the beatings that drives me insane…the pregnant pause between the release of the impacted energy thru violence and the long sweep of the tide out, till all is still…then, a faint rumble as it heads back into my direction, and the numb roar that comes up thru the floor, until fists meets temple, and the cycle is complete…

I have learned the fine art now of judging what is expected of me when I am being beat…it takes a keen ear to detect if the desired result is one of the following: submission, capitulation, confession, or negation…sometimes when I am being beaten down, the desired result appears to be tears, a bleating “no more, no more”, until the monster is satisfied…in stark opposition, sometimes the desired result appears to be to stop me crying, until a numb pall falls over the scene…as she beats me, she repeats over and over again “stop crying, stop crying you piece of shit”, and the formula reads that once you do the beating will stop…I learn the fine art of giving her whatever she desires, if only to feel that I am the one ultimately in control…

On a visit to my maternal grandmothers, I am up in my aunt’s apartment, sitting on my haunches in the corner, staring at a curio case full of porcelain figures…I think calmly through the things that plague me, which at this age are that I hate cigarette smoke, and I don’t like anyone to see me cry…I make two decisions in that moment I remain faithful to till this day…one, I will never smoke cigarettes, such is my hatred of the smell (I have still never smoked a cigarette in my life)…and two, that I will never cry for any reason (I would estimate that I have cried just 6 or 7 times in my entire life since that moment, the circumstances usually so overwhelming that I cannot override the feeling—my mother’s funeral, absolute betrayal, the Pumpkins last show)…

So when I am beat now, if the desire seems to be to make me cry, I learn a sort of fake sob, dramatized to heighten the necessary effect…she doesn’t seem to notice the difference between the fake version and the real deal, so this passes muster and therefore I never need to cry at all…

My father spends most evenings getting stoned and watching t.v…this becomes our time together, the most effective way to be in his presence is to learn to enjoy what he enjoys…for my father has little interest in what I am interested in…any attempt to get him to watch a baseball game perhaps results in a waving of the hand and a dismissal of the game as “boring”…fortunately for me, my dad likes to watch things like “Monty Python’s Flying Circus” and “The Midnight Special”, which was a program that featured live music from new bands…this was in many ways my first exposure to international rock music not covered by our local radio…

Since we live so close to a world class bowling facility, my brother and I often go over to hang out and watch people bowl…the bowling alley is always well air-conditioned in summer, and a toasty warm in the winter (our home is generally kept on the cold side during winter to save money)…after a time, our curiosity gets the best of us, and we decide that we want to try bowling for ourselves…I have about $3 dollars saved, and since the board says it costs $1 dollar to play, I figure it’s enough for the both of us, with some left over to get some soda pop…we rent our shoes, and proceed to have a blast, bowling for about 4 hours…when we go up to pay, the man behind the counter informs us that we have played 16 games, and with the shoes, etc, we owe him around $18 dollars…I unfortunately didn’t realize that the $1 dollar fee was PER GAME…as luck would have it, my brother had recently found a $20 dollar bill on the ground, but it is presently hidden under the couch…I convince the man to let me leave my brother as collateral, promising I will return with the money…I run quickly home, steal my brothers $20 dollars, and come back to pay the fee, purposely not telling my brother where I got the money…because if he knew the money was his, he will refuse on principle, blaming me for the oversight since the whole thing was my idea…

The pond that sits just across from our apartment becomes a place where I just go to sit and stare, a small piece of tranquility from the urban sprawl that we live amongst…I watch the men fish, pulling their dirty catfish from the water and plopping them in their white plastic buckets…I always feel sorry for the fish, with their uncertain fates, swimming around in a bucket…one afternoon, I spot a teenager I know a little bit who lives in one of the townhouses next to the pond…he is bleeding from his head, a severe gash cut right across the top of his brow…I ask him what happened, and he tells me that someone from across the way hit him with a rock…he doesn’t know who didn’t it, but vows revenge…the pond suddenly loses it’s luster as a peaceful place to sit, so I stop going…

Right before we began rehearsing for this tour in October, I read Alex James’ autobiography, “Bit of a Blur” (2007). In short, a decent but in no way a great read. If you’re a big Blur fan, you’ll find enough in it to keep you interested throughout the duration of book. If you are a casual Blur fan, I would probably suggest reading a biography on Damon Albarn, because Alex James doesn’t have too much to say about the musical or artistic side of Blur. As a big Blur fan, I found myself wanting to know more about Graham Coxon than anything else. But I’m a guitar player, so go figure. So here ends my short book review section.

The reason I was thinking about James’ book was because that’s pretty much how my last week and half felt: blurry. We started in Columbus, Ohio, and now I’m in Washington D.C., with stops in Cleveland, Toronto, New York, and Atlantic City along the way. Somewhere in there was a meal at a Bob Evans [above]. But rather than putting all those experiences in narrative form, sometimes a simple picture says more.

What you see in this photograph is a repaired headstock on one of my guitars, one that, let’s say, “fell” out of my hands at one point of “United States” during the first of the New York shows. Without getting too existential (or should it be Existential with a capital “E”?) and not asking what happened or why, the happier story is that the guitar is working perfectly and in use every single night. In fact, the guitar didn’t miss a single show, and for this I have thank my guitar tech, Jason Baskin, one of the best techs/tone sculptors out there (and a really good friend). To be honest, he did give me a little grief for giving him some extra work, but I really did deserve it.

So the tune goes something like this: When things get blurry, guitars get broken.

A few nice people have taken the time to write in and ask questions, and I am very happy to try and answer one or two questions if it is something I can even respond to. Someone sent in question in regards to the extended ensemble. If you’ve had a chance to see us play on this tour, I think their musical contributions speak for themselves. But in terms of what they add to playing with the band, I would say that it has been one of the most rewarding musical experiences I have taken part in. Gabrial, Stephen, Gingger Shanker (yes, with two G’s!), and Kris are all fantastic musicians and great people. With all the nonsense that surrounds being in a band, the two-and-half hours when we actually play are extremely musical, and these four musicians have significantly added to that particular element of the show.

Source: BuzzBands.LA

We had the day off yesterday and it’s always a challenge to find something to do. After waking up and grabbing some coffee, I stepped outside into the not-so-California-like humidity of Grand Rapids. Armed with my tote bag full of who knows what, I began to wander around the downtown area looking for something to do, maybe find a nice cafe or something. I walked for about 20 minutes or so, started getting really hot, really tired, and really depressed. Not much happening here on a Wednesday morning, I thought. I was about to return to the more comfortable albeit somewhat lonely confines of my hotel room when I suddenly wandered upon this sign: Ladies Literary Club. One of the best afternoons of my life. Just unbelievable.

And yes, I just made all of the that up.

The truth is, I woke up, ordered lunch, and went over Billy’s room to watch Germany play Spain in the World Cup semi-finals. The damn octopus! After the game, we did the usual: record-shopping. We ended up at one of the weirdest record stores I’ve ever visited, Dodd’s. Mr. Dodd has owned this place since 1951, and from the way it looks inside, probably not much has changed since then. The strangest thing about the store is that Dodd shrink-wraps every used record and writes that it is in mint condition when clearly it is not.

After record-shopping, we met up with the rest of the gang (and yes, we are a gang these days) for a nice dinner (I’m much more comfortable with communal dinners than communal sleeping). The restaurant we ate at, in addition to having good food and excellent cocktails, had a small but decent collection of ’80s video games, which we played after eating. I must admit, I’m a little pissed because the joystick on the Galaga machine was sticking a little and totally screwed me from getting the high score. Whatever…

See you tonight.

Source: BuzzBands.LA

The first show last night was pretty solid. Not too much to say, other than that Cleveland is such a great rock city. I always like playing here, even though we couldn’t find the House of Blues’ stage at first. Had to say that.

One of the most exciting things about this tour is watching Mike Byrne (our new drummer is 20 years old) get to experience all of this for the first time. For example, this is his first tour bus, and he just admitted to me that he’s pretty blown away by it. Six months from now, he’ll probably be so over all of it. He doesn’t know I’m writing about him, and he’ll most likely be a little annoyed. But who cares? I treat him like my little brother: a little mean, but mostly nice. I just wish he’d stop playing video games all the time.

See everyone in Grand Rapids.
 

Source: BuzzBands.LA

However, traveling with a big rock band is much different than driving cross-country with your friends. As a roadie/stage manager once told my friend in Explosions in the Sky who tried to tune his guitar onstage, the world of professional rock and roll is a “controlled environment” — meaning, in that case, that he needed to have his guitar in-tune before he walked onstage. But in a more general sense, the idea of the “controlled environment” extends into almost all aspects of day-to-day life on even a medium-sized rock tour, like the one I’m currently on. Once you step back and think about it for even a second, it can be no other way. You not only have the band entourage to deal with but the road crew as well. And this doesn’t even begin to delve into the world of venues, unions, curfews, and all that other boring stuff. I’m glad someone else gets paid to think about and organize all these things. What it means for me is that I get be a dumb, out-of-touch, sometimes-can’t-deal-with-reality musician. Just joking, of course. Well. maybe …

On a tour of this size, the Tour Manager issues a “day-sheet” most often at the end of the day. The day-sheet tells you exactly where and when you have to be somewhere and what you have to do. You don’t have to think about anything — you just step in the bubble and go. Here’s a recent example:

4:50 pm – Lobby Call for everyone to go to soundcheck
5:15 pm – Sound Check
7:20 pm – Doors
8:15 pm – Smashing Pumpkins Performance
11:00 pm – Curfew

After show – return to hotel

Venue:
Massey Hall
178 Victoria Street
Toronto, ON

Actually, this is an excerpt from a much longer day-sheet. My whole point is that being on tour with a rock band isn’t as crazy, random, or chaotic as you might think. For some bands, I’m sure it is. With the SP, we take playing and performing pretty darn seriously, and the controlled environment allows for peak rock performances at every show. However, this isn’t saying that what actually happens onstage is completely calculated because it isn’t by any stretch of the imagination. We go for it every single night.

Mostly this diary is going to focus on the private rather the public. What actually takes place from show to show is pretty easy to find in our YouTube world, so I won’t really talk about that stuff at all. Focusing on the private will hopefully bring an element of the unexpected to this tour diary but most likely in very subdued and subtle forms. As a young teenager enthralled by the world of rock, I read books like “Hammer of the Gods” with a devotion that only rock ‘n’ roll can bring out of a person. I have to say, the world described in that book is still mythic to me, since I personally haven’t experienced anything that happens in it, which is probably a good thing.

What the heck am I talking about?

Source: BuzzBands.LA

I think I can speak for all involved when I say that our recently completed trip to Europe was successful on multiple levels. We had a lot of fun together and did our best to bring the rock each and every night. While all of the shows were great and unique in their own way, there were some definite highlights. One stand out moment was the addition of Uli Jon Roth to the line-up for three shows in Germany. If you don’t already know, Uli Jon Roth replaced Michael Schenker in the Scorpions and played with the band from 1974 to 1978, helping the band move out of their Kraut-rock roots and become the shuffle producing machine that they are known for today. His playing on these early Scorpions recordings is simply phenomenal and his influence within the rock guitar community goes largely unnoticed. But once you listen, you’ll realize that his playing is beyond world class and on par with more recognized guitar players such as Ritchie Blackmore. I’d like to hear what Yngwie Malmsteen would have sounded like if there was no Uli Jon Roth. Besides being a great musician, Uli shared his beautiful soul with us, and for that we’re all quite thankful. For a few shows after he left, Billy and I would just look at Uli’s spot on the stage and acknowledge his spirit.

After a month of rocking in Europe, on Wednesday morning we got on a plane and flew from London straight to Atlanta to film a video for “Tarantula.” I don’t want to give too much away, but I will say that making the video was a blast, and all of the extras involved really made it a special moment that I think you’re going to enjoy.

After making the video, we jumped in a van and began making trek to Asheville, NC. For about a minute, we all of got nostalgic about the days of touring in a van, and to make the moment even more authentic, we stopped for dinner at Cracker Barrel just outside of Atlanta. The food was amazing, and we all tested our intelligence playing the wooden-triangle-with-holes-and-golf tees-game. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m sorry; and it’s much too complicated to explain. But let me say this, we found out that our rhythm section, Jimmy and Ginger, are the most intelligent members of the band. We arrived in Asheville late Thursday night/early Friday morning. To protect the feelings of our driver, I’ll just say that we made safe. I won’t mention anything about the dirt roads that take you from Atlanta to Asheville.

On Friday morning, a bunch of us took to the streets of downtown Asheville to have a look around. According to BC, it only took about 30 seconds for someone to ask him if we wanted some “PB”-pure bud. Awesome. But it only gets better, a few moments after that, while walking down the street, someone else asked Billy if he would take a photo with his monkey sock (or something like that).

But in all honesty, the people that we’ve met in Asheville have been wonderful, and we’re just as excited to be here as they are to have us.

Talk to you after the show.

Listening: Mahavishnu Orchestra – Between Nothingness and Eternity

Reading: Friedrich Nietzsche – The Birth of Tragedy

SmashingPumpkins.com: Your Wikipedia article has an unsourced claim that you’re a comparative literature PhD student specializing in Asian-American literature at UCLA. Can you give us a brief bio?

Jeff Schroeder: I’ve been a graduate student in the department of Comparative Literature at UCLA for about 7 years. My area of focus is Asian American literature and cultural production (which includes film, theater, music, etc.), but I also study 20th century French and Francophone literature, and a little bit of contemporary Korean cinema. In general I’m interested in the relationship between the political (and I use the term here in a very broad sense to encompass history, race, class, gender, etc. as well what we normally think of when the term is evoked) and the aesthetic (literature, film, performance art). Right now I’m working on my dissertation, which deals with representations of war in the Pacific Rim.

SP.com: I’m going to ask you the most impolite question you can ask a graduate student: When are you going to be finished your PhD?

JS: Good question! I’m lucky because I’m done with all my courses, which means I don’t really need to be in LA on a daily basis; so the only thing standing in between me and my PhD is the thesis itself. No small matter, but I’m determined to get it done as soon as possible. I try to work on it everyday, even if it’s just for an hour or two. As you know, graduate students need deadlines, so I’ve given myself about a year and half to finish it. Thanks for asking the question. You’ve motivated me even more.

SP.com: What have you been reading lately (either for school or otherwise)?

JS: Since I’ve been on break, I’ve been reading a ton of stuff. In terms of novels, I just finished Paul Auster’s new book, Man in the Dark. Technically it’s not out in the US yet, but I was able to purchase an Advanced Readers Copy on Ebay. I’ve read everything he’s published, and I would say this one was an average effort by him. Inspired might be a good way to describe it. I also just read The Boat by Nam Le. Stylistically Le is a very, very good writer. His prose have a way of drawing you into his fictional universe in a manner I haven’t experienced in a while. I’m real interested to see where he goes in the future.

When I got home from tour I was able to attend a 5-week seminar given by Fredric Jameson at UCLA. It was wonderful and inspiring to say the least. So after the seminar was over, I went back and read Jameson’s The Political Unconscious and I’m about half-way through re-reading probably his most well-known book, Postmodernism, or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism.

Also I just finished Gary Pak’s first collection of short-stories, The Watcher of Waipuna. Pak is a Korean/Hawaiian American writer that I’m working on for my dissertation. I really like his first novel, A Ricepaper Airplane.

SP.com: You’re not the only academic who moonlights as a famous musician (Dexter Holland of Offspring and Greg Graffin of Bad Religion are two other examples). Do you think there’s something that predisposes grad students to music? (My guess: Free time and comfort with poverty.)

JS: For some people it might be like living a double-life, but for me I’ve never really made a distinction between the two disciplines. As far as I’m concerned, they’re both art, and I love being a student of one and participant in the other. In fact, I think the two inform each other so much that it’s really shame to see them as two distinct pleasures or fields of investigation.

SP.com: In a 2003 interview you talk about your rig, which at the time seemed to be based around all Fender guitars (Jazzmaster, Stratocaster, Telecaster), and recently you’ve talked with Gibson.com about having an all-Gibson lineup for your SP shows. Was this a conscious decision when going from the Lassie Foundation to the Pumpkins, or was this a change that happened prior to joining up? Why the change?

JS: Before joining the Pumpkins I never owned a Gibson guitar, so making the switch over to playing them has everything to do with my current situation. Pre-Pumpkins it was all Fender, as the interview you reference states. Since Billy predominately plays Fenders, it makes the most sonic sense that I play something that compliments it. Together we cover a much larger spectrum than one person alone could ever accomplish.

It took me a while to get used to playing Gibsons because they feel completely different than a Fender. Now that I’ve gotten used to their feel and sound, I love playing them every night. My favorite guitar to play right now is my SG Classic with Jason Lollar P-90′s. I haven’t used it on tour yet, but since it sounds so good, I’m thinking of bringing it out for the August shows.

SP.com: Have you bought yourself any new gear since joining SP?

JS: Yeah, quite a bit. I love the Boss reissue of the Space Echo (RE-20). They’ve put it into pedal form and electronically reproduced the sound of the tape version. Of course it doesn’t sound exactly like the originals, but it’s pretty cool. It’s a very musical sounding delay unit. I just recently got a J. Mascis Jazzmaster from Fender. I didn’t like the stock pickups very much so I put some Curtis Novak pickups in it (a P-90 in the bridge and a standard vintage-type replacement in the neck). Now it sounds amazing.

SP.com: What are you running your guitars through when you play onstage with the Pumpkins?

JS: Amps: Randall RM100 100watt head

The RM100 is part of Randall’s modular series, which are fantastic. If you don’t know about them, please take a look Randall’s website and check them out. Even though I change it up from time to time, I’m currently using the Tweed module for my clean sound, the SL + for medium gain, and the George Lynch Mr. Scary for the real heavy stuff.

Effects:

Dunlop Rack Wah
RC Booster
MXR EVH Flanger
Menatone Blue Collar Overdrive
Homebrew Electronics UFO Fuzz
Homebrew THC Chorus
Voodoo Lab Micro Vibe
Digitech Whammy Pedal
Korg SDD-2000 Delay
TC Electronics G-Major and G-Sharp

I feel like I’m forgetting a few things here, but that’s the gist of it.

SP.com: Have you had a chance to play the new Billy Corgan signature Stratocaster?

JS: Yes! They’re really great guitars. I’ve been bugging Billy to get me one. I think he did an amazing job of updating the Stratocaster for use in a more modern setting while at the same time retaining some of the essential characteristics that makes the Strat such a unique and timeless design.

SmashingPumpkins.com: You talk about playing over 70 songs with the Pumpkins (this is also something that Melissa auf der Maur talked about when she joined the band in 2000 – perhaps there should be some sort of “So you joined the Smashing Pumpkins” pamphlet…) how did you go about learning them?

Jeff Schroeder: There’s no real easy way to go about it. It just takes a lot time, energy, and patience. That being said, once I got about 30 or 40 songs in, it for some reason became a lot easier to learn and retain songs. But it’s hard to remember everything. I try to take as few notes as possible and just remember everything by memory. When I write things down it takes me three or four times as long to remember.

SmashingPumpkins.com recently announced that the Pumpkins are going to be headed out on a Gish era tour sometime in 2008. Have you started working on learning the songs from Gish yet? Are you excited the change in sound and material?

I haven’t officially started learning the album, but I probably know at least 3/4′s of it already. It’s going to be great to play those songs live. I’m definitely looking forward to it.

Your Wikipedia page was first created in May of 2007 (following the announcement that you’d be playing with SP). It seems like Wikipedia is a good early warning sign of upcoming celebrity. Have you had any weird celebrity experiences since joining the Pumpkins?

Nothing too weird. I’ve had the chance to meet some very cool people over the last year or so. The Duran Duran guys are very nice, as are the Scorpions. I met Johnny Marr in Australia when we played some festivals with Modest Mouse. That was very cool too.

Prior to joining the Pumpkins you played in The Lassie Foundation. What’s happening with Lassie right now?

We aren’t a functioning band that plays shows or anything like that. But we do get together whenever possible to write and record. We just finished recording two new songs, “Three Wheels” and “Under the Moon,” that will be coming out shortly. Very noisy and shoegaze.

Is there any new music out right now that gets you really excited? What are you currently listening to?

Out here in Los Angeles, I like two new bands, the Sky Parade and the Mezzanine Owls. Both bands have MySpace pages. I recommend checking them both out.

My friend, Steve Elkins, who drums for the Autumns, just turned me on to Fred Frith. Frith is a wonderful experimental guitar player who’s played with an assortment of people over the years, mostly avant-garde circles. His 1974 solo album, Guitar Solos, is an early example of his deconstructed guitar style. His current stuff is even more out there. Before going solo, he was in a band called Henry Cow, which I like quite a lot too. They put out about 4 or 5 albums from the late 60′s through the early 70′s. There’s a lot of cool Frith stuff on YouTube if he sounds interesting.

Jeff also took the time to answer some fan questions:

wHiTe_sPyDeR_gRl asks:
“Is Billy Corgan a dictator like the media made him out to seem, or is he easy to work with?”

From what I’ve experienced so far, I would say that both Billy and Jimmy are extremely dedicated and serious musicians who have set high standards for themselves. They surely don’t hold me, Ginger, or Lisa (or anybody else working with them) to some set of expectations that they themselves don’t uphold, and from what I’ve seen up to this point, we’re all pretty similar in this respect. There’s a certain ethos to the band that maybe some people looking in from the outside forget about from time to time. Some bands like to find their niche and stick with it for as long as it’s viable, and this works both artistically and commercially. Anyone who has followed the Pumpkins over the years knows that “the band” (as a concept more than the actual people involved) is an idea that is continually being deconstruction. To me, this is what fundamentally makes the Pumpkins different than say the Ramones or AC/DC (both great bands in my opinion). So in terms of working in the band, you always have to be ready to rethink what you’re doing. This could mean changing a guitar part, adding a different song to the set, playing something soft as opposed to heavy, etc, and this is not always easy. In fact, it can very difficult at times. But when you approach the question from this perspective, it goes a little beyond one or two people being easy or difficult to work with.

Wayne Arnold asks:
“I’d like to know what songs are your favorite to play with the band and which songs you hope to play that SP hasn’t pulled out yet.”

I really enjoy playing songs off of Adore and Machina, which is interesting because they were the two albums that took the longest to grow on me. I’ve always had a soft spot for Pennies off the Zero single, so that would be my choice for a song we haven’t played yet.

Energy asks:
“What was it like transitioning into the role of guitarist in the band? How important is it to not only recreate the songs, but to add your own energy and feeling into them?”

It’s definitely not an easy job to come into a situation that has as much history as the Smashing Pumpkins. In a certain way, it’s an almost impossible task to try and recreate the songs as they were played by other people. No two people play alike. I think they key is to have respect for the material and the way it was played in the past while at the same time being open to exploring new possibilities as well. For example, we play a song like Today pretty much how it is on the record. It seems to have the most impact this way. But then on a song like Blue Skies Bring Tears, the approach we took to the song at the residencies was much different than what’s on Machina. So on something like that I was able to write my own parts and put my own spin on things.

easternmind asks:
“What is the biggest challenge with being a part of the band?”

The hardest part is being away from home all the time.

primalBlaze asks:
“As a graduate student in Comparative Lit, have you an interest in seeing any writings of your own published?”

Yes. Hopefully some day soon I’ll start publishing some essays and whatnot.

Jeff Schroeder was plucked from L.A.’s local music scene four years ago and thrust onto the world stage when the Smashing Pumpkins tapped him as the band’s lead guitarist. Joining a band with a legendary back catalog — one that inspired Schroeder’s own rock and roll fantasies — the guitarist has proven he can hold his own.

On August 28, the Smashing Pumpkins headlined the third annual Sunset Strip Music Festival and energized the crowd of 13,000 before taking off on an extensive U.S. and international tour. Check out this exclusive interview, conducted prior to the band’s crushing headlining set, and get to know this unlikely and understated guitar hero a little better.

Take us through the story of how you came to join the band.

I didn’t know Billy [Corgan] or Jimmy [Chamberlin] prior to finding out that they were looking for new musicians to play with. Before I found out about this opportunity, I’d never tried out for a band. I’ve only played in my own bands, so I don’t really know how to relate to other people’s experiences. A friend of mine told me they were looking for a guitar player and said I should audition for the band, because he thought I would be perfect for the job. I put together a simple package and emailed it off to management. A few days later, I got a call from Jimmy and we started the process. We played and hung out for a couple of months, just getting to know each other. It wasn’t until four or five months later that they told me I had the job; that was four years ago.

How many songs are in your repertoire? What song do you find most technically challenging?

Since I’ve joined the band, we’ve probably played at least 150 different songs! The hardest to play well is probably “F*ck You” off of the Mellon Collie record because we usually play it at break neck speed.

What’s the best part about touring? What’s the worst?

The best: Traveling all over the world (I’m writing this from Mexico City). The worst: Being away from friends and family.

Most “rock star” moment since joining the band?

Smashing a guitar at the Fillmore in San Francisco. That was “old Jeff,” so that probably won’t happen again.

Favorite Pumpkins’ album?

Hmmm, that’s a tough question. I like Siamese Dream and Machina a lot.

With your new found fame, you must have brushed shoulders with tons of other music icons and celebs. Has anyone left you star struck?

I have been lucky to meet quite a few of my heroes because of the band — Gene Simmons, George Lynch and Rush. They all leave me star struck because I respect what they do so much. But I think meeting the Edge from U2 was probably the coolest thing that has ever happened to me.

Growing up, did you ever participate in any pumpkin smashing high jinks during Halloween?

Ha! No, I was always a good kid.

Which other band/performers are you most excited to see at this year’s Sunset Strip Music Festival?

Slash and No Thanks.

You’re currently finishing your Ph.D. in comparative literature at UCLA. Which books are you currently reading?

I’m currently reading Karen Tei Yamashita’s new novel, I Hotel.

Being that you share the same name and you are both musicians, do you identify with the Schroeder character in the “Peanuts” comic strip? What else might you have in common?

I think Britt [Pennella] from Blackboard Jungle might provide a better answer for this question.

Note: When reached for comment, Britt had this to say about his friend Jeff:
“I think the way Schroeder [of “Peanuts”] completely marched to his own drummer and let his playing do the talking is one of the many ways that these two are similar. Also in the Christmas special, when Lucy demands he stop playing one of his opuses and play “Jingle Bells,” he proceeds to play an elementary, one fingered version of the song. This reminds me of something Jeff would do if someone stupid demanded something of him.”

Everyone has a great story about a night out on The Sunset Strip, anything you’re legally allowed to share?

I’m hoping to have a few new stories after Saturday night… That being said, the recent show we played at the Viper Room was amazing.

Source: TheSunsetStrip.com

Exclusive Interview with Jeff Schroeder by Alex Becker

The Smashing Pumpkins broke into the musical mainstream with their second album, Siamese Dream. The group built their audience with extensive touring and their follow-up, 1995′s double album Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, debuted at No. 1 on the American Billboard charts.

With approximately 20 million albums sold in the United States alone, The Smashing Pumpkins were one of the most commercially successful and critically acclaimed bands of the 1990s.
In April 2006, the band officially announced that it was reuniting and recording a new album. Returning members Billy Corgan and Jimmy Chamberlin were joined by Jeff Schroeder and Ginger Reyes in 2007 to tour in support of their new release, Zeitgeist.

Gibson.com met up with Smashing Pumpkins guitar player Jeff Schroeder before the bands show in Berlin, Germany, to talk about his past, the new Smashing Pumpkins and, yes, the Scorpions.

Gibson.com: Jeff, how did you get into playing guitar?

I think I have a story that hundreds of thousands of Americans share. It’s my brothers fault. He was a huge Kiss fan, we shared a room, Kiss posters everywhere. From that time on, I wanted to have a guitar, Ace was always my favourite. Guitar driven music was always around when I grew up.

Gibson.com: When did you get your first guitar?

I got my first acoustic guitar when I was probably nine or ten years old, and just kinda made some noise with it. When I was 12, I started taking serious guitar lessons. I owned some cheapo no-name guitar. I took lessons for four years, so I actually know a bit about what I’m doing on stage, haha.

Gibson.com: What have been your musical influences?

From the early 70s to Punk Rock, 80s Hard Rock, Zeppelin, Kiss, UFO or Van Halen, that’s the stuff I liked. Well, Van Halen was so big back then, that I actually didn’t have a choice not to like them at all. When I turned 18 I started to get interested in Alternative music, so I got into bands like My Bloody Valentine and the Pumpkins. To make it short, when it comes to music I like guitar driven music best.

Gibson.com: Tell us a bit more about the last band you were in.

The band I had for the past ten years was called Lassie Foundation. It is a band inspired by late 80s, early 90s British guitar bands. Anywhere between Echo and the Bunnymen and My bloody Valentine with a little bit of the Beach Boys. Definitely not as heavy as the Pumpkins. Actually, the Smashing Pumpkins made me discover the heavier side of my playing.

Gibson.com: Is Lassie completely on hold, or are you planning any new releases?

When we had a two month break with the Pumpkins, I met up with my old buddies and we recorded some songs together. I can’t exactly say when, but they should be up on iTunes soon. We are not really an active bad, but we have a certain fanbase in the US. It was really interesting to see how my playing changed playing a year with the Pumpkins. The recordings sound like classic Lassie Foundation songs, but mentally I was somewhere else, haha. But honestly, I am very proud of the stuff we did.

Gibson.com: How did you get the gig with the Smashing Pumpkins? Did your cell ring and Billy Corgan was on the other line?

Well, not exactly. What happened is, that a friend of mine send me a message saying that the Smashing Pumpkins are looking for a new guitar player. And he thought I should try out. I never tried out for any band, I never was a musician for hire, so I had no bio, no photos, I just had my band which I had for the last ten years. Because I really loved the Pumpkins, I was like well, let’s give it a try. Luckily a friend of mine was doing some web-stuff for the Pumpkins, so she pushed them a bit to listen to my stuff. I talked a couple of times with Jimmy on the phone, we went to breakfast together. So Jimmy, some other bass player and me started to play around a bit. After another month, finally Billy Corgan showed up and we jammed a bit. It was like, thank you, we will call you… Another two month later I got the call that I got the gig. And it worked out really great. As a guitar team it is really hard to just create chemistry. Billy and I are at a point where we connect really good with each other.

Gibson.com: Did you have problems with old-school fans asking for former guitar player James Iha?

To be honest, I am actually surprised of the lack of it. We did around 115 shows now and I only one time heard somebody saying where is James… The support of the fans is really amazing. They give me little gifts, T-Shirts with my name on, for example. It makes me really proud to see such a reaction, because I worked really really hard to give the material justice and play to the spirit of the band. I was a fan of the band, too. But if the original band can´t be here today I feel more than happy to do it.

Gibson.com: Did you have to practise a lot to learn the material?

Since the tour started last year, we played over 70 different songs. So when rehearsals started we rehearsed for 6 ½ weeks, 6 days a week, 10 hours a day. Today you witnessed the soundcheck, we soundchecked for nearly 1 ½ hours. For the Pumpkins, that is quite a mellow soundcheck. We don´t even call it soundcheck, we call it rehearsal. We play a lot of music together, a lot of. Billy is definitely the musical leader, and sets the direction, but we are able to flow with it very well now. It definitely doesn’t feel like practicing.

Gibson.com: How do you feel to work now with one of your former icons?

To be honest, I just feel like it is an honour and a privilege to share the stage with Billy. At a certain level you can be scared and intimidated and of course I was. But when you’re in it, it is like sink or swim. Everyday to be able to play with Jimmy and Billy, it´s such an amazing experience.

Gibson.com: Unfortunately you weren’t able to contribute to Zeitgeist.

We already talked about it for sure. Jimmy and Billy first of all had to get a band together. Ginger and I never did so much touring in our whole life. So the first objective was to play the shows and not worry about much else. Billy and I are now talking about guitar stuff all the time. I would see it as a very natural progression to move into that as soon as we have finished the Zeitgeist tour.

Gibson.com: What other musicians would you like to share the stage with?

That´s a frightening question. If I ever felt like I was good enough playing with these guys, my first choice would be John McLaughlin. He combines fluid, intense playing with this whole spiritual element. I really love Jeff Beck, I think he would be fun to play with. I also would love to share the stage with Yngwie Malmsteen, the shredding king. Actually we tried to get him to play with the Smashing Pumpkins, but he said he was in the studio and unfortunately couldn’t make it. You never know… We try to invite a lot of people to jam on our shows. Uli Jon Roth for example joined us for a few gigs. Actually it seems like Tommy Lee will join us for the Australian Dates.

Gibson.com: How did Billy get in touch with Uli Jon Roth?
When Billy and Jimmy were working on Zeitgeist in L.A., the Scorpions were working on their new album in the same studio. So they met the Scorpions. Uli was in L.A. at the same time working on something else. Klaus, singer of the Scorpions asked Billy if he would like to meet Uli. Billy, being a long-time lover of the early Scorpions material took the offer and became close friends with Uli Jon Roth. Billy told Uli that when the Pumpkins would play Germany he should join them on stage for a jam. He showed up and played like two or three nights with us. It was so amazing, he didn’t even listen to any music or the songs at all. We were playing an eighteen minute song. He just went up and played to it. No rehearsal, nothing.

Gibson.com: What do you personally think about Uli?

There is only one Uli. Unfortunately I think he is a bit overlooked. He is like the missing link between Blackmore and Yngwie. Uli is really an A+ class musician. It is amazing, his ability to react to music on the spot, that’s killer. He is like the white Jimi Hendrix. He is a really unique individual with a very special aura surrounding him. It is beyond my comprehension how he is able to view his instrument. He is playing that 36 frets Skyguitar, I couldn’t even get a tone out of it, haha.

Gibson.com: I heard you are getting your PhD.

I finished all my classes and only have to finish my dissertation. It is not an easy task, but I don´t have to be at school. I’m getting my Doctor in literature at UCLA. I really love to be surrounded by that creative energy. Whether it’s music or literature, it is part of the same process for me. To me it is all art. As cheesy as it may sound, but if you read a good article, or see a good film, it may inspire your music or inspire to write a song. Or read a good book and write a good poem. My goal is to finish my dissertation, even if I never teach.

Gibson.com: So between travel, soundcheck and rocking the stage you are studying?

Of course I am. While the others are sleeping, you can often find me on the bus working. Yesterday for example, I finished a whole chapter of my dissertation. For me it is not that I have to, it is just an intellectual kind of journey. It is not very rock. This band is not very rock in a traditional way. People would be shocked to see how much water gets drunk during a tour, haha.

Gibson.com: What kind of guitars are you using with the Smashing Pumpkins?
As you have seen at soundcheck, my rig is full of Gibson Guitars, haha. I love them all. I have several SGs, a Les Paul Custom, a Les Paul Classic and a 335. My favourite guitar is the Les Paul Classic, that is my main guitar. The way it sounds, the way it feels, it is the perfect Smashing Pumpkins guitar.

Source: Gibson Guitar

Jeff Schroeder on guitars, amps, effects and the new Smashing Pumpkins sound by Joe Bosso

“Joining the band has been unbelievable,” says Smashing Pumpkins guitarist Jeff Schroeder. “This is where I really wanted to go musically. I was a fan of Billy Corgan’s music for years, so to be able to work with him on his vision and help take the band to a new place is incredible. It’s great to be part of something that you can be completely passionate about.”

Schroeder was the first member to join the Pumpkins lineup that now also includes frontman Corgan, bassist Nicole Fiorentino and drummer Mike Byrne, so he can be regarded as the next-to-eldest statesmen of the new group. With combined interests in literature, alternative rock guitar and professional hockey (on the day of our interview, the California native was thrilled to be in Winnipeg, Canada, but bummed that there were no teams playing), Schroeder brings with him a playing style that is by turns poetic, highly individualistic and full of virtuosic force, and he makes his presence felt vividly on the Pumpkins’ 2012 album, Oceania.

Speaking to MusicRadar, Corgan called Schroeder a “far superior” guitarist to himself. “What I love about Jeff as a musician is, he’s always learning, he’s always pushing himself.”

We talked to Schroeder about how he came to join his favorite band, what it’s been like forging a guitar language with Corgan (who is, of course, no slouch on the instrument), how the group gets along these days, not to mention which guitars, amps and effects he’s using on stage.

It’s been six years now, but a lot of people still don’t know how you came to join the band.

“How I joined goes back to 2006 when Billy and Jimmy were in LA working on Zeitgeist. A friend of mine who knew someone at their management company sent me an e-mail and said, ‘The Pumpkins are getting back together, and I think you’d be perfect for the band. Here’s their manager’s e-mail. You should send them a package.’ I wasn’t a professional musician or anything. I mean, I’d been in bands, but I didn’t have a bio and photo and all that stuff. To this day, I’m not interested in being that type of musician.

“But because I was a massive fan of the band – I’d seen the band many, many times, and I just loved Billy’s whole musical vision – I typed up a bio and sent it off, and a couple of days later I got a call from Jimmy Chamberlin. That was in the fall of 2006, and I’ve been here ever since.”

What did your actual tryout consist of?

“It was me and another bass player, Jenni Tarma, who actually went on to play with Kylie Minogue and a few other people. She’s been around LA for a while – really good bass player. Jim, Jenni and I played a few songs, and then it evolved over time. We got together a few more times. I don’t think it was until a few months later that they made a real decision. They were cutting the record, so I’d go in, jam, hang out and see what they were doing. The relationship just grew and evolved.”

You got in the band when it was in a transitional phase, but pretty soon it was a brand-new lineup playing with Billy.

“Yeah, it seems transitional now in hindsight. At the time when it was Billy and Jimmy, that was very much anchored in the 20-year relationship. The musical and personal dynamic – there was a lot of history there. Once Jimmy left, that was a big chance. It was a new era, and all the relationships were reconfigured. And once we found Nicole, you had those four people that made sense together.”

How did you go about trying to forge your identity as a guitarist with Billy?

“It’s actually quite difficult, because within the Pumpkins, Billy’s guitar is such a dominant voice. You have to work out a plan to play with him. You can either try to play like him, or you can do the other thing where you start forging an alternate voice or a counter voice to go along with that. That’s been fairly difficult because I’ve had to play differently than I would in my own music or how I would play if I were the only guitar player. “It’s taken some time, but now, after five or six years, Billy and I rarely have to talk about what I’m doing. Through a lot of playing together and making a lot really bad mistakes, we’ve realized what works and what doesn’t work. It feels pretty natural now, but it’s something we’ve had to figure out. It took some doing.”

I imagine it’s something of a balancing act for you. Even though you joined the band and it became a new lineup, there was still an established sound.

“Oh, of course. I certainly wasn’t going to walk into the room and tell Billy, ‘OK, you have to reconfigure your sound for me.’ That would have been absurd. [Laughs] It’s very much me going, ‘I have to fit into this.’ It’s one thing to listen to a band, but once you actually play with them – and I was very, very lucky to have played with Jimmy – it’s totally different. You hear things in a new way. I already knew some of the songs, but in truth, I wasn’t playing them correctly. “To make the guitar parts sound like the Pumpkins is very difficult to do, even if technically it sounds easy. There’s a certain feel, an attack, a certain way to play the guitar – it’s the reason why no other band can sound like the Pumpkins, even though they are emulated.”

Billy has spoken about the lack of egos in the band, how there’s no drama. Is this because you’re all such awesome people [Schroeder laughs], or have you actually worked on maintaining a healthy spirit amongst everybody?

“I think it’s a combination of both of those things. In the big scheme of things, you have four really decent people, which is strange in the rock world. Nobody is doing drugs, nobody is doing stupid stuff in life – we value being in a band, and we do what we can to maintain that. But then we’ve also had discussions about how to maintain that. Billy has been very clear that he doesn’t want to re-create the old dynamic with new people. So we watch ourselves and call ourselves on things. “A lot of it has to do with maturity. We do value what we do, and we realize that it could go away, so we enjoy it while it’s here. But we also like being around each other. We’re very different people – if you looked at us on paper, you’d probably say, ‘That’s not going to work.’ Between the age differences, background differences, cultural differences and everything else, we shouldn’t work. But we do. Other bands we’ve toured with have tripped out on us and how we function. There’s a certain mystery to it all.”

You were studying for your Ph.D in Comparative Literature before you joined the band. What were your plans after you got your degree?

“I was planning on being in academia and being a professor and teaching full time. At some point, it’s something I may return to. For the last two years, the band has been so incredibly busy, so I had to make a choice of one over the other. I love being in the band, so it wasn’t hard. But I am passionate about literature, and I think literature, music and art are so tied together.”

Of course, you realize that were you to go into teaching, your students would say, ‘Yeah, that book sounds great, but tell us about being in the Smashing Pumpkins!’”

[Laughs] “Yeah, there have been times when I’ve done some teaching, and once people knew what I was doing, they just couldn’t fathom why I’d want to be at a university. They thought I should be indulging in the fantasy – partying, doing drugs, all the things I don’t do.”

What was it like recording the full album Oceania vs Teargarden By Kaleidyscope, which you were doing piecemeal?

“The last two songs on Teargarden, Lightning Strikes and Owata, were the first times the four of us recorded together. Oddly enough, it took what seemed to be a crazy-long time to do two songs. When you’re working piecemeal, you can lose focus on the big picture. So doing Oceania was more in line from what I grew up with. I’m an album guy.” Billy told me that a couple of the new songs happened spontaneously in the studio.

Was there a different kind of excitement working on those songs than some of the cuts that were very planned out?

“Being in the Pumpkins, that’s how it always is. That’s the working relationship. You have to be ready to shift quickly – one minute you’re working on a keyboard part for a song, and in a few minutes something else could be happen. The raison d’etre of the Pumpkins is ‘follow the excitement.’ You could spend three months on a part or section, but if something else opens up a new vista or horizon, that’s where we’re going to go.”

What do you think of Billy saying that you’re technically better on the guitar than him?

“I don’t know about that! [Laughs] I can maybe do a few things that he can’t do as far as picking and things, but he can do a lot that I can’t. To me, technical ability only goes so far. Billy is so expressive on the guitar, and I’d rather have that expressive quality that what impresses people as technical ability.”

He’s suggested that you check out certain players to absorb their vibe. Anybody you can mention?

“In the song Pinwheels, he said that I should maybe approach it in a George Harrison kind of way, sort of the All Things Must Pass era. I was already a huge Beatles fan, but you know how it is when you listen to something and then you really listen? That’s what I did. In my scholarly way, I studied George Harrison and Beatles songbooks note-for-note. I picked out the scales and how they worked against the chords, but I also looked at where George would place the melodies. That was really helpful.”

For the most part, Billy plays Stratocasters live. What kinds of guitars do you like to use to complement his sound?

“Especially for the old material, and we’re getting out of that paradigm, but it’s the combination of the Strat and Les Paul. It’s hard to get away from that to play those songs. Before I joined the band, I never played a Gibson. I always played Fender Strats, Jazzmasters, Teles – never a Gibson. When I joined, I had to play Les Pauls and SGs, and to be honest, I wasn’t liking them. Their feel is so different from Fenders, and at the time, they seemed so one-dimensional. “Over the last year or so, I’ve picked up some Les Pauls that I really like, and so now I get it. You get the right Les Paul, and it’ll be able to do things that a Strat or a Tele never can, which is great. Two completely different voices – Fender and Gibson. I’ve got a Les Paul from the Custom Shop with an iced tea flame top – it kind of looks like the Jimmy Page/Zeppelin guitar. It’s got such a vibe. Oh my, I love that guitar! [Laughs] “I play that Les Paul on a lot of the new stuff, and I think I’ll be playing it a lot more in the future. I also have a ’50s goldtop reissue that I really like and am using. Those two guitars cover a lot of ground. Oh, and I have a white Les Paul Custom – I use it on some of the heavier stuff. “For the new material that’s more atmospheric, I use Fender Jazzmasters and Jaguars, which I was very used to playing before the Pumpkins. On the old stuff, like on Thirty-Three, I’ll use a Jazzmaster. I just love the sound of those two guitars, the Jaguar and Jazzmaster.”

I imagine with your move to more Gibsons you had to rethink your amps on stage.

“Right now for the stage I’m using two Orange 4 x 12 cabinets with Celestion Vintage 30s – amazing. For amps, I’m using modified versions of Randall’s MTS Series, which are modular, so they have interchangeable preamps. The preamp section allows you to put in four different preamp modules – it’s a design that Bruce Egnator did, and Randall licensed it. “About a year ago, I got an e-mail from this company, Salvation Mods, in the Czech Republic, and they wanted to send me some mods for the Randalls. Their stuff just blew my mind. Amazing, amazing work. They made me four different modules that I’m using. What we’ve come up with is the Matchbox – a Vox AC30/Matchless-style preamp. I use that for clean. “For low-level distortion, I use a Vox with a Fender EQ section – that’s probably my favorite preamp. I have a Marshall that gets into the high-gain, and also for high-gain stuff I have a copy of an Orange Rockerverb. Those are the preamp sections that emulate amps. Lately, I’ve also been using the Orange Rockerverb 100 and a cabinet. We played Jay Leno, and that’s what I used.”

What kind of pedalboard do you have?

“Ahh, that’s crazy, too! [Laughs] I have a Fractal MIDI controller with 15 loops. On the ground I have a bunch of pedals: the BCM Brian May, a whiteface Rat reissue, a Menatone Blue Collar overdrive, a Fulltone Plimsoul, a Line 6 M9, a Fulltone Clyde wah, a Boss RC-30 looper and the TC Flashback delay – but that’s the one you can buy only through Pro Guitar Shop.com. They call it the Alter Ego. I also have the Strymon El Capistan tape echo. “In the effects loop of the preamp, I have the Eventide Time Factor, and I also have and an old Alesis MidiVerb 2, which I only use on preset 45, which is called the ‘Bloom’ setting. It’s a reverse reverb kind of thing, and it’s very beautiful.”

How are the new songs sounding live? Do they feel nice and broken in already?

“What’s interesting is that the new songs sound totally like the record. We didn’t know how they’d sound since the songs were created in the studio, but I’d say everything translates really well to the stage. Having the guys at Salvation Mods make the preamps for this tour, the tones are very similar to what’s on the record. They sound awesome.”

Source: Music Radar

Catching Up With Smashing Pumpkins Guitarist Jeff Schroeder by Julie Ha

The Smashing Pumpkins’ Jeff Schroeder admits there have been moments during some recent performances where he’s had a slight panic attack. He’ll be staring down at the keyboard and thinking, “Oh my God, what am I supposed to press? There are so many keys, they all look the same!”

Wait, some of you Pumpkins fans might be asking: Why is Schroeder, the band’s guitarist, stressing out over playing the keyboards? In reality, all the bandmembers — including Pumpkins leader Billy Corgan, bass player Nicole Fiorentino and drummer Mike Byrne — are multitasking on stage these days, thanks to a suggestion by Schroeder that only the core four go out on tour this year.

“Personally, I always feel like there’s something about seeing the band — like when you see U2, it’s the four members … they don’t have, well, who’s that guy playing keyboards? And with some bands, like Guns N’ Roses, you see 10 people up there on stage, and you kind of lose track of what it is,” said Schroeder. “I think there’s something powerful about conveying who the band is, having that kind of solidified framework. [So I suggested to Billy] we should try to do it all ourselves, and he agreed.”

Of course, that means that every member has to take turns at the keyboards, which feature prominently on the Pumpkins’ well-received new album, Oceania, full of the band’s dark and dreamy signature sounds. It’s an instrument Schroeder didn’t grow up playing, so to prepare, he bought a keyboard and learned the basics from YouTube.

“Some nights I’m thinking, why did I open my big mouth?” he said, laughing. “It requires a lot of concentration, not only having to switch to keyboards and then to guitar and back, and changing out all the effect pedals and guitar sounds, [but we’re also] playing the whole [Oceania] record from beginning to end, with visuals.”

But he joked the fans get to see how hard the band members are working for them.

In all seriousness, though, the Pumpkins have indeed been working hard. Their new album, released this past summer, debuted at No. 4 on the Billboard 200 and has garnered some of the band’s best reviews ever. Corgan has said that even the Pumpkins’ most popular albums from the ’90s never received such praise from music critics. That’s especially gratifying for this line-up of musicians, who save for Corgan, aren’t part of the original Pumpkins that rose to fame 20 years ago.

“I think we had to grow as a band, then fans respond to that,” said a philosophical Schroeder, who joined the Pumpkins in 2007. “You have to be able to look your own band in the face and go, ‘Well, we need to get better, we need to work harder to get the fans to buy in.’ You have to work really hard to get fans to see: Well, it’s not the old band, but this is valid on its own terms. That’s really hard to do.”

Although this past year has marked the most promising for the band, Schroeder shared that it’s been one of the most difficult periods for him personally. On Feb. 6, his mother passed away after a five-year battle with cancer. He once described his Korean immigrant mom as a “renegade” and incredibly supportive of his music career.

After the Pumpkins returned from touring last December, Schroeder says he moved back into his parents’ home in Orange County, Calif., knowing his mother only had a few months to live, and, along with his father, took care of her 24/7.

“The thing is, my mom, she was never a complainer,” Schroeder said. “Once she was diagnosed with cancer, they said she would only live 18 months; she lived five years. That’s a testament to her resilience and her courage.”

Music has helped him deal with the loss of his mother, who Schroeder says was “so foundational” to how he thinks of himself.

“Just being able to play music, play guitar, get lost in that—it’s extremely healing. It’s that inner dialogue that you need to have, that you don’t want to have to translate into words, you don’t want to translate into distinct ideas. You just want to, emotionally, cathartically, evoke something. I can’t imagine living life without that. I’m just not wired to survive without music.”

His bandmates have also been a tremendous source of comfort. “I have to say, in tragedy, it brought everybody even closer,” he said. “As cheesy as this sounds, [the band] really is like my second family. We really do truly care about each other.”

Now Schroeder is looking forward to the band’s North American tour (which runs through Nov. 4) and promoting the new album. “Interestingly, now that [Oceania is] done and it’s out, we’re ready to go make the next record already because we’ve seen what this band is capable of,” he said. “You start thinking, wow, if we’re capable of this, let’s set the bar even higher.”

Source: KoreAm

The Aeroplane Flies High Liner Notes By Billy Corgan and James Iha, Summer 1996

the aeroplane flies high, turns left, looks right. the aeroplane knows that it is alone it int’s drama bones. madness, preconceptions, ray gun logics run and spit and rationalized until a whole chorus of mug wumps, blue in the face from yelling their divisive mantras, run out of young breath and just plain give in to the spirit of the whole damn apple. face it, you love it, it’s fun for one and all, and for all you know the earth spins on it’s rusty axis just because of it. the aeroplane moves whether you want it to or not. cram packed with fuel injected jet missile action, this is war motherfucker and don’t you forget it for one second. it is us versus them, and if you’re giving in then you are giving up. all the names don’t mean shit. ugly, beautiful, pretentious, arrogant, old, tired, happy, sell outs, careerists, transcendent, hypnotic, trippy, spellbinding, numb, egocentric, solipsistic, empty, hollow, shallow, lost, 70′s, 60′s, 80′s, 20′s, long winded, phony, grand, the worst, the best, creepy, cranky, desperate…. the aeroplane just flies higher, faster, stronger. there isn’t much time for maybes, even goodbyes sometimes. dust settles, the arcwelders come out and reconstruct the obvious, and we are all left holding the blur. life will always be a sentimental way, you can vivisect it all you want. blood and will are indivisible. the aeroplane flies high, turns left, looks right. the world pisses a silver stream to let you know it is there. on the other side of the slipstream of countless thoughtless thoughts. it shatters and divides into a million fragments because life is not a lifestyle choice. we are not a fashion accessory. music is god’s bones creaking pleasure, amusement, even occasional approval. we salut you all with a crack of the back, a baseball bat and a smile. god bless us all, for what we think and feel is all we really have. but when is too far far enough. no limit that i ever knew really matters. there is strength in the dirt of your garden sorrows, there are no more tomorrows, only blissed todays, purple and immeasurable in stature and stealth, because the sun is always sneaking around behind your sneaky back, can you hear us because if you can’t we will turn it up till your ears bleed nascent approving harmony. it’s all good, and don’t you forget it. the fourth wall is down and deserves to stay down, because all you are really watching in others is yourself, the third generation t.v. reflection. time is never time at all. there is no time, no heartbeats, no babies, no frnech fries, just spider webs strung to oscillate the fever pitch of blandkind, oops i mean mankind. once the sonic dart leaves your fingers, it is hard to get back. scratch, sniff, observe, obey, deceive, distort, disarm it all, the bomb is on and ticking. we know but we ain’t telling anyone anything, because we know nothing. “t.v. generation x.y.u.,” zero and is playing on a single bill, one night only at the bottom of the ocean. once it is gone there is no going back, and it is never ever the same. wave to the magic balloons with your names attached, 5 zillion strong circling the precious earth in search of a friend in search of another. i hope you all find what you need in whatever hole you peer down, whatever cloud you peek behind, let the disaster dukes masticate on the green grass of hope and love. this year is the most joyous and happy, mournful and sad year i have known. life is good bleats the bleating heart, and it keeps on bleating like an 808. never ever forever tomorrow comes, new dawns blister, new songs to be sung. the aeroplane flies high, turns left, looks right.the aeroplane knows you know, sings the song of truth, of redemption, of sorrow. look no further than your dirty feet. -billy

so from the house of loneliness, we slept, we ate, we dreamed of nothing, played music ceaselessly for 8 1/2 years climbing up a hill, still in a warm cloudy sleep we awoke, all numb fingers and dumb lips. the river fled, the meadow opened, the mountain woke, coloured lights strewn from city to city, under the trees, under the stars, under the traveling moon we played and slept. so much has happened and things are changing so fast that looking over the cebris and tarnished medals it seems like so many years. the dim lights, loud music, getting lost in the van, watching for UFO’s, arguing, watching butch vig microwave bacon, bugg, people actually coming to see us play, more arguing, lollapalooza, more music, endless boring hours listening to guitar “tones” with alan, doom, harmony strings, flood with the classic saying, “we’re in the trenches with our tin hats on,” songs, releasing a double cd under the jaundiced eye of business acumen and winking hipsters, relief, elation, tragedy, then reticence… at the end of this you flip back to the beginning or maybe open it up somewhere in the middle and you always find the same thing: music. so that’s what you might take away from this – and all this from an empty room. cheery, ta! -james, summer ’96

Rocktropolis Interview, 1998

Billy Corgan doesn’t need to consult his business manager on a regular basis or gaze at walls full of platinum awards to be reminded he’s made his mark in popular culture. He just has to answer the phone. An invitation to induct Pink Floyd into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland is not the sort of opportunity that presents itself to just anybody every day. After all, Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon is one of the biggest- selling albums of all time. But the honored Corgan was anything but tongue-tied by the significance of the moment when he took the podium.

“I spent half my speech chastising the music business for being lame,” he says. “Pink Floyd, which never really had hit songs, somehow managed to make one of the biggest- selling records of all time. Go figure.”

The Pumpkins themselves are no strangers to the process of kicking against the pricks, and the latest installment in that maverick history is Adore, which is more a collection of lullabies or hymns than alternative rock of any particular description.

“That’s very good, because that’s what I was telling my friends,” says a clearly pleased Corgan. “It’s almost like a kind of prayer music or mantras or something. Some people have picked up on that — not a lot of people, but that’s how I feel, and that’s the way we’re approaching it when we play it. It has a certain shimmering spirituality to it. It’s about as close as I’ll probably ever come to gospel music.

“We had this meeting where we decided, ‘Is Mellon Collie going to be the last kind of rock Pumpkins album, or are we just going to leave it behind right here?’” he continues. “We all felt very strongly that we needed to make, in essence, our quintessential Pumpkins album, so that when we’re old and grey it’s all there on tape.”

Hence the vastly different feel of Adore. “When we made that decision, we knew that the album subsequently was going to be a huge departure,” adds Corgan. “Then, when we came off tour from Mellon Collie — it was 16 months or whatever — the first thing we did was, we went into the studio. I’d written all these new songs, which were acoustically- based kind of piano songs, so we just started there. It seemed evident that that was the direction we were going in. Then, once we went in and started tinkering,” he laughs heartily, “the folk thing went right out the window.”

The Smashing Pumpkins have deserved a few laughs over the last year or two, after the heartbreaking departure of friend and drummer Jimmy Chamberlin and, bleaker still, the overdose death of touring keyboardist Jonathan Melvoin. Chamberlin’s departure could have meant Billy Corgan had to rethink the band’s chemistry and internal balance.

After all, the creative interaction within the outfit and between the individual Pumpkins was firmly rooted in the fact they were four very separate individuals. “The way it’s worked out is it’s just like he’s not there,” reflects Corgan. “It hasn’t really shifted the politics or the energy at all. It’s like we’re missing something, and for a while I think the missing feeling fucked with our heads. It’s like waiting around for someone to show up. Then after a while — I think about halfway through the album — we just said it’s not going to happen. There is going to be no glorious return and we’re not going to find anybody, so this is what we have.”

But once the band focused on recording, says Corgan, the mood improved. “It seemed like the moment we hooked up the drum machine everything got better,” he continues. “We just accepted that that’s the situation, and we literally went back to where we started, which was just the three of us and a drum machine. It was kind of poignant in a way, because when you find you’ve gone full circle and you accept it, you’re no longer resisting the idea of it or the feeling of it. And everything’s been fine since.”

For some, the entire episode may have marred the band’s somewhat pristine — even virginal — image. Perhaps that’s why there’s something warm and comforting about Adore, although Corgan isn’t sure whether the album is about the sound of love or the seeking of it. “That’s a good question,” he laughs. “To me, it’s the first record we’ve made that’s, in a weird way, unsentimental. It has a kind of picture feeling, like you’re peering into the past, you’re peering into the future, but for the first time it’s with a plain sight. I don’t feel like it’s sentimentalized, and it’s not as idealized. There’s fractures in the music, there’s an ugliness to it as much as there is a beauty. It’s strange. It just worked out that way.”

The Smashing Pumpkins’ Adore album title is not some light-hearted or tongue-in-cheek reference to the band’s public standing. The thought behind the moniker goes much deeper than just hearts, flowers, and fans.

“I was just looking for something that seemed to symbolize the intensity of love in all its positive and negative aspects,” says Billy Corgan. “The concept of adoration is like the word ‘fanatical’: there’s a positive energy and there’s a negative energy in adoration, and in looking at love there’s a good side and a bad side.

“I was trying to look at it from all ends,” Corgan continues. “What makes a person want to kill for their country, what makes a person want to kill the person they love, what makes a person want to drive across the country to see someone for five minutes? That kind of intensity seemed to sum up the whole thing for me.”

When the Pumpkins played two shows in Australia recently — in Sydney and Melbourne — those conceptual notions were supported musically by the physical presence of not one but two percussionists, a keyboard player, and Corgan’s own sinewy lead work. But rather than filling in the breathing spaces in the musical landscape, the additional personnel somehow opened everything up and underlined the possibility that Adore is more of a blues or folk album, albeit with certain Corgan- prescribed preconditions.

“I spent a lot of time listening to old folk music and old blues,” he says. “When I tell people they just don’t believe me, because they can’t necessarily hear it in the music. But I really went back and tried to pinpoint in myself what’s the true source of music of the soul. That was my foundation.

“But at the same time,” he adds, “I didn’t want to make this kind of folk album that harkened back to the old days. I guess I’m trying to make a folk album for the future, a folk album that seems to suit our times. As much as Bob Dylan’s ‘Blowing in the Wind’ was very 1964, maybe ‘To Sheila’ or ‘Ava Adore’ or one of those songs is very 1998.

“It’s like facing a technophobia, and the distance between human beings and machines. There’s a relevance in there, just as much as the folk singers who sang about [fear] of losing their jobs because now there was machines that work. It’s that same kind urgency, energy, and fear. It all seemed to mix in for me.”

Last Man Standing by Brad Tolinski

“Death and pestilence,” says Billy Corgan.

Come again?

“Death and pestilence,” he obliges. “Shall we deal with them now, or later in the interview? I’d rather get them out of the way, if you don’t mind.”

Looking like an ultra-hip, Anne Rice-inspired version of Nosferatu, the surprisingly tall guitarist is cheekily referring to the two essential ingredients found in Adore, the Smashing Pumpkins’ new release, and every other album in their catalog. But he is also alluding to the rotting corpse of the Alternative Revolution, the now-moribund movement that he and his band helped spearhead almost a decade ago.

Like a general who has survived battle, but is now forced to survey the subsequent devastation, Corgan observes what is left of his ragged and threadbare Nineties rock insurrection-and does not like what he sees.

His former brothers in arms-Soundgarden, Nirvana, Mudhoney, Hole, Pearl Jam-those once mighty warriors, are all either dead, defeated, defunct, demoralized or in complete disarray. Worse still are the new, fresh-faced volunteers. The starry-eyes young boys and girls so eager to fight the good alternative music fight, but never understanding the true significance of the original revolution.

The whole thing makes Billy ill.

“We blew it,” says Corgan. “There was a real purity in the early nineties music scene that cut through everything like the white-hot blast of a laser gun. Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Hole, Mudhoney, Soundgarden and the Pumpkins changed the rules overnight-heavy-duty fucking bites, man. But we screwed it up, because everybody got so caught up in it in the wrong way. Instead of taking over the world, we just gave it away. Kurt takes himself out. Pearl Jam doesn’t tour. Soundgarden breaks up. Courtney decides she’s not even going to start. I freak out on the world and have a nervous breakdown…

“Listen, I don’t care if you like Pearl Jam or don’t like Parl Jam. It’s a shame they stopped making videos. It’s a shame that Pearl Jam stopped touring and didn’t get out there and let the world-not just America-see them. Don’t forget, we were all ambassadors for America and American music.

“Our music should’ve become really, really important on a world stage. Now we’re suffering the consequences. We’re competing against all this schlock. We opened the doors for the disco era to come back in. And what do you think is going to happen? Who do you think is going to win?”

While Corgan leaves the question open-ended, it is clear that he is not going down without a fight. Over the last two years, the guitarist often made it a point to say that the Pumpkins didn’t plan on making another album “as the band that most people know,” and that “everything needs to change.” Adore(Virgin), self-produced by Billy, makes good on those promises.

The band’s new album is literally bursting at the seams with fresh ideas. Corgan, along with guitarist James Iha and bassist D’Arcy, has created a brave, new Pumpkinland, where brooding industrial grooves rub shoulders with delicate folk ballads, and stark piano-driven confessionals collide with majestic, eight-minute epics.

The most surprising aspect of the album, however, is the conspicuous absence of the fuzzy, buzzy guitar bombast that defined the band’s first three albums. The multi-layered guitar grunge that was so fashionably prominent a mere five years ago has been replaced with ambient synth pads, grainy drum loops and computer sequences. According to Corgan, the change was absolutely intentional.

“This album is definitely me saying goodbye to what I consider my rock and roll,” says Corgan unapologetically. “Whatever our little generation’s rock and roll was. I mean, it’s done, there’s no getting around it. You can try to recreate it, you can run it through more fuzz boxes, but it’s done. It’s time to move on.”

In the following interview, Corgan, one of rock’s most astute and honest observers, speaks at length about the past the future of alternative music, his friendship with Marilyn Manson, and the melancholy and infinite sadness of the Smashing Pumpkins’ smashing new album.

GUITAR WORLD: Loud Big Muff guitars were the signature sound of the Nineties. That aspect of your music is downplayed on the new album. Is this your way of saying farewell to the grunge era?

BILLY CORGAN: That’s probably a little broader than I would put it, but you’re on the right track. We made our last album, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, thinking that we had reached the end of the line. We didn’t kid ourselves. We knew that it was the end of that particular era. There was no getting it back.

GW: What do you think of all the new bands that haven’t realized that it’s time to move on?

CORGAN: When you listen to a current band on the radio that does a really great Nirvana impression, you admire it, but you know it’s not the real deal. I mean, there’s no way that those kids can approximate the same intensity, because they had to have come from a completely different set of circumstances. They’re merely distilling something. Bands like Pearl Jam, Nirvana and the Pumpkins were distilling something as well, but we were able to go beyond our influences and take it somewhere else. Ironically, a lot of these new bands are better songwriters than many of the bands from the early Nineties. I mean, they’re actually writing good hooks and good choruses and all that stuff. So, maybe somebody will break through and take it to some other level. But, as of right now, it doesn’t look like it. Their music is nothing but revisionist history.

GW: You’ve stated that you believe that your generation squandered its opportunity to have long-term significance. Specifically, how did that happen, and what could’ve been done to prevent the disintegration of alternative music?

CORGAN: It’s very complicated, but essentially we simply could not handle the transition out of the clubs. The idea of world fame was just too overwhelming. If we had been more supportive of each other, we might’ve saved ourselves by building a stronger musical community. That’s how people like Eric Clapton and Bob Dylan survived and ended up becoming legends. They managed to find some support and community in the music. They didn’t sit there and moan about their situation, they just took the artistic freedom they were offered and put it to good use. We were handed the same opportunity, and what did we do? We rejected it, outright. The next thing you know, the kids are saying, “Gee, maybe this music isn’t as cool as I thought it was. The bands themselves don’t even seem to like it.” And they moved on.

GW: It always struck me that many of the bands from the early Nineties got too caught up in the external issues of fame and not the actual process of being an artist.

CORGAN: Absolutely. It’s odd, because we wouldn’t have played the music we were playing if we had originally given a fuck about what the world thought. Granted, when you started appearing on the cover of Time magazine, and you’re on MTV, and your friends are all on MTV every 20 minutes, it changes the picture. It changes the temperature in the room.

GW: Give me an example of how some bands allowed “the world” to interfere.

CORGAN: An obvious one is Pearl Jam taking on Ticketmaster. It was noble to take on corporate America. However, you cannot let politics or business kill the music. You can’t let it kill your creativity. You can’t let it kill your connection to people, because that’s what God put you on this earth to do. You as an artist are just a messenger. It’s not about you. I think they’ve come to realize that.

GW: I’m not trying to let anyone off the hook, but given how over-the-top the success of alternative music became in such a short time, wasn’t shutting down a reasonable response to an overwhelming situation?

CORGAN: Is it emotionally reasonable to be overwhelmed and freak out? Sure. But is it smart?

GW: Can you recall a specific moment where you lost perspective? Where you let an external circumstance affect your music?

CORGAN: I remember playing Lollapalooza ’94 and being completely disillusioned. I was looking into this audience and started to be concerned with whether it was the music community that I thought that I was going to play to. I saw people yawning, people looking at their fucking watches, and I couldn’t believe it. I had just come from playing packed clubs, with people leaping off balconies, and then I found myself looking into 30,000 eyes, and they’re looking at their fucking feet. Now, you know, I’m sure it had something to do with the face that maybe we weren’t so interesting, but I kind of thought we were. [laughs] Regardless, I should’ve come to terms with the fact that a festival show was going to be different from a club show.

GW: Moving to the present, can you describe the genesis of Adore?

CORGAN: The first sessions for the album were held shortly after we fired Jimmy [Chamberlin, drummer] from the band. We went right in the studio and worked for about a week as a trio. Initially, we were very excited and pleased with the results. The whole point was to kind of be very spontaneous. It was literally a case of me writing songs in the morning and us recording them that day. I wanted to get away from the cerebral part of it.
During those initial sessions we wrote and recorded “To Sheila,” “Ava Adore” and “Daphne Descends.” It was like two or three days, boom, it’s done-overdubs, everything. That sat well for a little while. But then, the initial euphoria of working so quickly started to wear off. James took some time off to finish his solo album, so I had a moment to give myself a reality check. And I started to realize that the quality level of those first sessions was not what I wanted it to be. My worst suspicions were confirmed when my friends reacted by saying things like “nice direction, interesting song, da, da, da.” But I could tell that they weren’t being blown away. And that’s when the album officially started to take shape. I started to think about the things that the Pumpkins had accomplished, and the high standards that we’ve held ourselves to throughout our whole career. That led me to decide against working so quickly. I just couldn’t put out an album of “demos.” The Pumpkins have never been about that. You know, I think our fans would’ve known the difference. There wouldn’t be the depth that existed in the earlier recordings. So when that was all settled, it became really apparent to me that I needed to just roll up my sleeves and get down to business. At the same time, I think I was just starting to really come to grips with the fact that Jimmy wasn’t coming back and we needed to find a new way to work.

GW: Can you give me a better sense of what those early, discarded sessions sounded like?

CORGAN: The best example on the new album would be the song “Annie-Dog,” which is just piano, a little bit of guitar, bass, drums and a vocal. They were very spare. Our intentions weren’t bad. We weren’t being lazy. The idea was to just focus on the songs-you know, “Let’s sit down and just play some songs.” [laughs]

GW: In other words, it was going to be like the Smashing Pumpkins’ Basement Tapes.

CORGAN: Something like that. There were about 10 songs worth of that stuff, and a couple survived the gauntlet later on. Actually, it might have worked if we were better performers-if I was a better singer.

GW: So, your first grand experiment fails. What happened next? Where was your head at?

CORGAN: [laughs] It’s hard to say, because I don’t necessarily believe that the sting of failure is a bad thing. It gives you a certain amount of freedom to just say “fuck it.” And that’s what I did. I threw everything out the window and just concentrated on doing whatever I needed to do to make these songs work for me. Suddenly, I’m with a computer, a synthesizer and a drum machine. I have my guitar running through a delay pedal. And I stared hearing something new- you know, not the fourth or fifth incarnation of what I’d done previously. My creative spark became re-ignited. I didn’t even know what the fuck I was doing. I didn’t even know if I liked it. I was going, “Okay, let me see, hmmm, well, I’m going to run this guitar part through a blender, I’m going to chop it up, I’m going to take a loop from somewhere, chop that up…”

GW: Film director Quentin Tarantino once said something to the effect that starting a new creative project was like driving into a fog. That’s a perfect analogy, because though you can’t see where you’re going, you have to make a leap of faith that you’re heading in the right direction.

CORGAN: Right. You have to assume there’s a road in front of you.

GW: One of the more controversial aspects about Adore is your embrace of synthesizers and computer technology.

CORGAN: Actually, there’s a lot more technology on our last album that people probably realize. Many of the tracks on Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness were completely built from samples and sequenced using ProTools software. The song “1979,” for example, was completely created from sampled guitar parts. But most people don’t even realize that because it wasn’t presented that way.

GW: Working on a computer tends to be a rather solitary activity. How did you involve the band in the creation of the album?

CORGAN: Well, it would depend on the song. I mean, one example would be that I would just get a beat going and then have the band track parts to the drum sequence. Then I would go back and start building underneath their ideas. Sometimes their parts would have to change because I would rearrange the foundation. So, then they’d have to try something different. The songs kept changing their perspective. And sometimes James and D’Arcy would be in the camera, and occasionally they would be outside the camera.
GW: For example?

CORGAN: “Appels + Oranges” is probably a good example of a case where the band created a perfectly valid arrangement, but then I ended up completely scrapping everybody’s parts and changing the song from the bottom up. And while that might seem disrespectful, I fully acknowledge that I probably wouldn’t have arrived at the final arrangement unless I had their original parts as a jump-off point. Even the tracks that weren’t used then were important to the overall development of the album. Adore was like a ball that went back and forth. There are some songs where James probably created five different guitar parts for five different versions of the same tune. Or I took some four-bar part that he played off the cuff and made that the guitar part. It was like digging in dirt. You’re just trying to mine something new. It’s a rather tedious process. I mean, you may spend four or five hours just sitting there, thinking with a texture or a tone. Often, I went home at the end of the day with just a bass line and a loop, and that was my 12-hour day. It can seem a little wasteful, but…

GW: After Mellon Collie you said that you didn’t plan on doing another album with the band as people knew it, that you really wanted to go to a different place. Did losing Jimmy actually help to move it into a different space?

CORGAN: Yes. I mean, I think it would have been more difficult with Jimmy because I don’t think the realization level would have been the same about the music. Jimmy’s such a fantastic drummer that I think we would have leaned on him more to kind of make things work and probably wouldn’t have worked as hard on the songs or the textures. Having no drummer put all the emphasis on the songs and the vocals. It put pressure on places where we had never felt any before. In Pumpkinland, vocals were about as important as guitar parts were about as important as drum parts. Everything had this kind of balance. That wasn’t the case on Adore. There was no drummer to lift the song when things got a little boring on this album. I had to either change the arrangement or sing something different to energize it. On the positive side, I saw and felt things in writing the songs-in trying to make the songs work-that I’d never had to deal with in my 10 or 12 years of recording experience.

GW: I imagine that Jimmy’s absence eliminated a comfort factor-it probably forced the Pumpkins to become reacquainted as musicians.

CORGAN: Definitely. We’re still feeling it right now in rehearsal. Everybody has this natural tendency to just fall into a familiar groove, and that’s just not acceptable to me anymore. James will just fall into his rut. D’Arcy will fall into her rut. And then I start falling into my rut. It’s difficult not to, because there’s no one standing there telling us that it’s time to move on. I mean, if anything, people are questioning why we would even change in the first place. There was comfort in a rut.

GW: Do you think you succeeded in creating something different?

CORGAN: I hope so. I hope so.

GW: Now that you’ve become enslaved by computer technology, will you ever rock again?

CORGAN: [laughs] That not a ridiculous question. Some people that have heard the album have already assumed that we’re never going to play loud again. But to tell you the truth, I already can’t wait to turn everything back up.

GW: Lyrically, this record is really strong. While it’s not strictly a concept record, I noticed a number of recurring themes. The title of the album is Adore. Technically, when you “adore” something, you worship it. Unfortunately, adoration often gets confused with love.

CORGAN: My catchy way of summing up with album thematically is to say that it is not a reaction against a negative world, it’s a response to a negative world. Right now I feel that the scales are tipped towards negative energy. And I think there are a lot of reasons for people’s negative energy. We could sit here the entire day and contemplate on why society is apparently crumbling before our eyes. Why more people don’t feel connected to their government, school, friends, lover, you know. But the most simple way to take on the entire girth of the subject is to just get back to the most simple core essence of what life is about. In my Corgan brain, I’ve decided it’s almost as simple as “All You Need is Love.” Almost.

GW: But what happens when people are not sure how to define love, or even recognize it?

CORGAN: That is an essential question of the album. I mean, what is love? How do people define it? How do people abuse it? How do people desire it? That’s really what the album is about. It’s about the 360 degrees of love. It’s so incredibly complicated these days. But let’s say you meet someone. She’s this girl of your dreams. You think, “Wow, this is what I’ve looked for my whole life.” Now you have to deal with some big issues: What kind of person am I? Can I trust what I’m seeing? Can I even have sex with this person without putting myself at risk? How do I know that she hasn’t had thousands of sex partners? The purity is so hard to get to.

GW: I also noticed the recurrence of the world “crash” in several songs. Were you influenced by the J.G. Ballard book Crash, which depicts a rather frightening view of human sexuality?

CORGAN: Read the book, saw the movie, bought the coffee mug. [laughs] I didn’t consciously draw from the book, but I agree that those themes are in the album. I tried to take on the subject of love with an open mind. I didn’t want to idealize it, yet at the same time I wanted to respect its power and how it’s the true motivating force in the universe. People do devastating things out of love and devotion. And if some guy rides a bus and blows himself up and 20 people around him because he loves God so much, it doesn’t mean he’s wrong or right. You can’t just turn your head away from anything that you find repulsive, because in anything that has power, there has to be a devotion. Hate requires devotion. Racism requires devotion. I mean, all these things require an intensity and a devotion. I mean, you must really love what you believe in to even bother. Otherwise, you just wouldn’t even bother.

GW: When did the album’s theme begin emerging for you?

CORGAN: Honestly, I don’t know, because it’s like the intuitive part of me sets the stage, and then the cerebral part of me figures out what the play is about. There usually no epiphany. I don’t suddenly wake up and decide I’m going to write an album about this or that. It’s more like I wake up and try to figure out why I am doing all these things at once. You know, “Why do these certain words keep reappearing? Why am I stuck on this one chord?” I don’t know why, it just happens. It just seems to happen about every year-and-a-half or so. I go in this completely different mode with different notes, words, rhythm-everything. It’s like somebody unplugs a data cartridge from my back and sticks a new one in.

GW: I think this is something young players kind of miss about being a musician. It’s important to have a mission. Practicing scales is important, but only if it serves a higher creative purpose.

CORGAN: And interestingly enough, it was the guitar that saved my ass on this album because every time I felt that something wasn’t working, I’d reach for the guitar and it would tell me where songs needed to go. I always went back to what I know. Because it is the thing that I know, I do know. I’m never quite sure about everything else, but I know how to play guitar.

GW: The final few songs on the album are rather epic in proportion. It’s almost like an album within an album.

CORGAN: I think I understand what you mean. The album moves along until, suddenly, you kind of hit this reef, and there’s this whole undersea world. And I like that. There’s a certain grace about the end of the album.

GW: I was struck by the face that the songs appear to deal specifically with death and the knowledge that comes with it.

CORGAN: Yes. There’s plenty of death in there.

GW: You have a history of writing about extremely personal, even painful subjects. One of the songs on Adore is “For Martha,” a rather moving tribute to your mother who passed away recently. How have you been dealing with her loss?

CORGAN: My mother’s death, and the grace the courage with which she faced it, gave me a perspective on my life that maybe I hadn’t had previously. I started to understand her connection to me at a very deep level. It’s a very hard thing for me to put in any concise form. Everybody at some point thinks about what they want out of their lives. My mother’s death helped me to refocus my priorities. It showed me the true value of my life, and what was the true value of her life. It kind of made me back off rock and roll in general, and place more importance on what I wanted to do artistically.

GW: How important is it to you that your ideas are understood?

CORGAN: Not that important. Art is ultimately meant to give the person that receives it their own personal experience, and it’s up to them to take what they want. Artists are just energy conductors. That’s all we really do. There not an idea on this album that hasn’t been expressed before. Blues is a universal energy. Heavy metal is a universal energy-it’s the sound of a volcano. It’s rock, it’s earth shattering. Somewhere in our primal being, we understand. So, just call it for what it is. A long time ago I decided, “Hey, if someone listens to ‘Cherub Rock,’ and decides that it really fucking rocks, and doesn’t get the point of the song, so what? If they get it, if they see it, if they see the beauty in it, that’s a bonus. Who am I to judge?

GW: You said that you thought this record was a real departure for the band. Was it because of the keyboards?

CORGAN: I think the keyboard aspect doesn’t mean shit. If you really listen to the album, it still sounds like the Pumpkins. This is where I see the difference: the first three Pumpkins albums were built to be in your face and over the top. We were really trying to get under everybody’s skin and really push the whole Pumpkins thing on people. Adore is much more subtle. I think it sounds like we’re just kind of in this room and if you want to listen, go ahead. It’s the first album that we’ve made that shrugs its shoulders and plays out. It doesn’t have the same level of aggressiveness, and I don’t just mean that on a song level.

GW: It’s a little more ambient.

CORGAN: Right. By taking the rock out of the formula, it certainly creates a certain abrupt difference. But on a deeper level, it just sounds like it’s in another place. There’s a tangible connection between Gish, Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie. And then suddenly, Adore represents a completely different approach. I’m not saying it’s not without context. But it’s almost like five years have passed instead of three, you know? And really, we did live five year’s worth of time in the last couple of years. So maybe it is five years.

GW: When it was rumored that you were working with synthesizers, I think most people assumed the album would feature some elements of electronica. Instead, it sounds like it was more influenced by Eighties post-punk bands like the Cure or Depeche Mode.

CORGAN: I consider that to be a compliment. Well, we’ve been telling everybody that the material was going to be very much akin to the stuff that we were writing before Gish. This is the king of band that we were before Gish, so in a weird kind of way, we’ve moved ahead by coming full circle. There have always been strains of the Eighties in our music. I mean, I still listen to Depeche Mode at least once a week. We also listen to New Order all the time. I probably listen to Joy Division more than any other band. The reason we always cited Boston, Black Sabbath and ELO as influences is because people would always get gassed about it.

GW: Depeche Mode and the Cure are, in their own way, almost as unhip as ELO. In your view, what were the virtues of those bands?

CORGAN: The Cure? Great atmosphere. Every album is totally different, certainly after their first three albums. Great guitar playing. Really interesting lyrics, really interesting singing, and they created their own world. Their totally own, self-contained world. The Cure and Depeche Mode are as self-contained as Led Zeppelin.
In fact, I think there’s a lot of similarity between the Cure and the Pumpkins, with regards to how we’ve been accepted. If you create a self-contained world with your own language, your own sensibility, and somebody doesn’t like your world, what are you going to do? Ultimately, I think this album has a lot more to do with the Fifties than the Eighties.

GW: How so?

CORGAN: It’s easy to listen to our new album and spot the influences of the Cure or Depeche Mode. But honestly, the Chicago blues of the Fifties had a much bigger impact on this album. People are going to miss that part of it. But the face is that over the past three years, I’ve been listening to a lot of Howlin’ Wolf, and I stared to realize that his music was a lot heavier than the Pumpkins or Led Zeppelin ever was.
The impact of Wolf’s blues made me start asking myself, where does music’s real power and energy lie? I decided it’s more in the performance-that kind of crackling, tense, overloaded performance that can be found on many of those classic Chess session. [Chicago's foremost blues label during the Fifties and Sixties, Chess Records issues many of Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Willie Dixon and Chuck Berry's greatest sides, among others. At Corgan's suggestion, the photo shoot for this feature was held at Chess' fabled recording studio.-GW Ed.]. I mean, it may not translate on this album as much as I would have liked it to, but that’s what I was going for on Adore-I was aiming for that kind of purity and immediate energy.

GW: Like Howlin’ Wolf and the Cure’s Robert Smith, you certainly have a unique singing voice. Are you happy with it?

CORGAN: I’m going through a real struggle with my voice right now. I feel like my lack of technical ability is really holding me back. I actually started taking voice class. I haven’t had as much time to pursue it as I’d like, because I’m doing the album. I don’t have a problem with my voice-I accept and appreciate it. As people often point out to me, it’s the distinction that makes the Pumpkins unique. But I think I’m a better songwriter than I am a singer, and sometimes our songs suffer because I can’t always deliver vocally. I mean, how many people do you know with less bass in their voice than me? Not a lot. It’s like a freak of nature. It’s genetic. My father’s voice is even higher-he sings even higher than me. But in the end, I guess it’s all about the Benjamins. Right, Puffy? [laughs]

GW: Speaking of Puffy Combs, you’ve been spotted contributing to a number of outside projects. What is your involvement on the new Marilyn Manson album, for one, and how does that fit in with your sense that our culture is becoming increasingly negative?

CORGAN: I am interested in Marilyn Manson because they’re my friends. I try to to think too much about the politics because I think that’s a whole other morass. Is Manson pushing buttons? Yes. Is he doing it for artistic reasons? I’m not so sure. Is he the devil’s child? Absolutely not. In fact, I could just have easily been Manson. Right before I formed the Pumpkins, I talked to some friends of mine about basically creating an alternate identity for myself, and living that identity. The idea was to be my name-the whole nine yards. But my friends said, “No, you just need to be yourself. It’s not you. You couldn’t sustain the character.” And they were right. I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I would have eventually discarded the character. Some people use something like that to empower them. And I think that’s probably what Marilyn’s done. Is it shocking? Maybe to some sensibilities. To mine, it’s not that shocking. As to my actual involvement on their next record, I basically just listened to some of the stuff they had and gave them suggestions. Then I specifically worked on the structure of a couple songs. But my involvement was more about approach, and they kind of just took it from there. They may have gotten there on their own, I don’t know. Maybe I just told them what they already wanted to hear.

GW: My take is that if they ever were able to write a song as good as Alice Cooper’s “Eighteen,” they would rule the world.

CORGAN: I agree with you, but don’t be so sure that they’re not writing it right now. I feel that there’s a lot of power in their imagery and use of archetypes, but now they need to deliver on a musical level.
But, believe me, they saw the impact that “The Beautiful People” had, as opposed to some of their other material, and they’re ready to take it to the next stage. I told them they really needed to try and understand what it was about that one particular song that they connected. And they’re trying. I think they’re really growing into a deeper musical sensibility.

GW: And what role did you play on the new Hole record?

CORGAN: That was much more involved. I was actually writing songs, and arranging-the full monty. I only went into the studio with them on a couple occasions, but that was more just like getting the whole things together to be given to a producer. Basically, I was just helping Courtney write because she was just so rusty.

GW: What makes Marilyn and Courtney special? It’s not about their technical chops.

CORGAN: The answer is obvious: it’s about their ideas. Most musicians suck. I have a very down opinion of musicians. Because most musicians’ heads aren’t on straight. It’s usually about technique, when it should be about creativity. I just hate the mentality of music. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be studious, or not to practice. If your lack of ability is going to hamper you from getting what you want musically, then you should practice. But I meet so many players that are all technique, and that’s just missing the point.

This One Goes Out To The One I Love by Tom Lanham

Having endured a series of deaths in the family- some spiritual, some literal- Billy Corgan has emerged with a new appreciation for life and the place the Smashing Pumpkins hold in it.

It’s easy to get the wrong impression. Scan through recent Smashing Pumpkins headlines, and the news looks bleak: the heroin-overdose death of tour keyboardist Jonathan Melvoin, which led to the arrest and subsequent firing of Pumpkin drummer Jimmy Chamberlin; the potential involvement, or non-involvement, of bandleader Billy Corgan in the latest Hole recording sessions; the Pumpkin’s label, Virgin, suing the band for breach of contract when they announced plans to leave after delivering only three of a stipulated seven albums. The good news, such as Chamberlin undergoing court-ordered drug treatment, a feud-ending renegotiation of the Virgin deal, a slot opening for Pumpkin heroes Cheap Trick, naturally gets less play than the dishy gossip. Corgan chalks it up to an “on-line mentality- we’re all on-line now, even when we’re not, and the information we get is just never enough.”

You can wallow in the tabloid dirt if you choose, but you’ll probably miss the plaintive point of Adore. You might not notice any difference at first in, say, a song like “Once Upon A Time.” While its gentle pace fulfills Corgan’s promise for a new, different Pumpkins sound, it has all of the band’s signature elements. Lissome, chiming guitar notes from James Iha tumble over bassist D’arcy Wretzky’s supple rhythms, leaving plenty of room for Corgan’s trademark nasal pneumatics, which make him one of modern rock’s most identifiable voices. And so the track proceeds, lazily drifting by.

Listen closely to what Corgan is singing, however, and the honest, personal tone of his window-on-the-soul poetry becomes startling: “Mother I’m tired/Come surrender my son/Time has ravaged on my soul/No plans to leave but still I go.” A sunny chorus cuts in, as crisp as an autumn school day from childhood- “Fallin’ with the leaves/Fallin’ out of sleep/To the last goodbyes”- and then segues into a poignant coda: “Mother I hope you know/That I miss you so.” A year and a half ago, Corgan’s mother passed away after a protracted illness, and now her son has used his craft, and most of Adore, to deal with the tragedy, to confront death head-on and somehow make sense of it all. It’s a mature move not usually associated with the arrested-adolescent self-absorption of pop stars. But Corgan, despite a media profile he jokingly refers to as “your usual doomsayer,” is not a typical pop star. No matter what the papers might say.

In the muffled, Gothic-toned “Tear,” Corgan shakes his fist at the great beyond, at an imagined foe who robbed him of his loved one-”Heaven seemed insane for taking you away/’Cause heaven is to blame for taking you away.” A metronome-simple backbeat and the plush, feathered piano in “Crestfallen” allow the bereaved to question the selfish motives that invariably surface with grief: “Who am I to need you now… to deserve your sympathy/You were never meant to belong to me.” In the sweeping “Behold!The Nightmare,” Corgan shouts into the ether “You’re so cruel in all you do/But still I believe, I believe in you/So may you come with your own knives/You’ll never take me alive.” And finally, the eight-minute suite “For Martha” puts the issue to rest- “Your picture out of time/Left aching in my mind… If you have to go I will get by/I will follow you and see you on the other side.” This is not to say, however, that Adore is one big variation on a lachrymose theme. Elsewhere, in “Pug,” “Perfect,” “Appels + Oranjes” and the arena-huge single “Ava Adore,” Corgan – who wrote and produced or co-produced every composition- takes stock of his existence, adds up all the good things that remain, and comes to a clearheaded conclusion with the closing “Black Page.”

Muse on mortality long enough and you’ll emerge with some essential, and remarkably optimistic, truths. Or, as Corgan quietly puts it, “You take the opportunity to really examine what’s important and what’s not important. And in the big picture of life, of my life, my mother was a very important person. James, D’arcy and Jimmy are more important to me than the Smashing Pumpkins. So if you examine all these things, that’s why Jimmy’s no longer in the Pumpkins. And that’s why my mother stood behind me all those years when I was taking a lot of shit for being a freak and gave me the courage to be myself. And this is not an attempt to trivialize her death, but in a weird kind of way, her passing told me that if you’re not going to do what you really want to do with your life now, you’re never going to do it. And there’s no better time than now to examine what’s important, what your value system is.”

Outside, on the outskirts of Chicago, it’s a gorgeously clear day. Inside the Smashing Pumpkins’ rehearsal studio, it’s curtained, dark and vaguely oppressive. It suggests the smoky drawing room of an 18th century aristocrat, complete with a pampered poodle reclining on exotic Oriental rug. On a long, comfortable couch sit a track-suited Wretzky and a shag-haired Iha, decked out in denim. Draped over a Sidney-Greenstreet-sided leather chair is the tall, spider-limbed Corgan, head cleanly shaven, wearing all black- black silk shirt, vintage black Sans-A-Belt dress trousers and black clodhopper boots. He controls the interview in much the same way it’s been suggested he controls the band; naturally, he appears to have the most to say about his own cathartic input to Adore. “Once Upon A Time,” he says, is not a bad starting point.

“I think as we get older, we evolve in our relationships with our parents,” Corgan notes calmly, hands folded in his lap. “Where they’re not so much your parents anymore. They become almost like friends. And in the case of my mother, her becoming sick, in some ways I became the parents in the situation for a brief time. And it’s like I’ve always tried to do- I can take specific situations in my life, but I’m trying to reach a bigger frame of the picture. I can’t be specific about what I was trying to say in that song, but what I am trying to say is, you have to see things for what they really are.” He makes the first of several pauses to ensure that the message is getting across. “I mean, I used rock ‘n’ roll to crawl out of my self-perceived hole. And at the end of the day, they can bury me with the Pumpkins CD’s, but it ain’t gonna make a whole lot of fucking difference, if you know what I mean. And I’ve really started to think about what’s important.

“Like, I have no problem with being a musician, with being a public person,” Corgan continues. “I actually quite enjoy it. But it’s what’s important in that for me. And I think we, as a band, have done a pretty good job of sticking to our guns. So, if anything, my mother’s death gave me the courage to stick to my guns even more. In the light of her passing, I looked at it and said, ‘If you don’t have the courage to just do and be what you want to, then what the fuck are you? You’re not a man, that’s for sure.’ And there are plenty of parables in there, as well. We experienced a death on tour, even though it was somebody we weren’t very close to. We experienced a death of sorts with Jimmy leaving the band, because it was basically the end of the Pumpkins as we knew the Pumpkins. And right before that, Jimmy’s father had died. So we’re talking about Jonathan dying, Jimmy’s father dying, Jimmy leaving the band, my mother dying, and me getting a divorce, in roughly the same time period. So you’re talking about a lot of death, both real and symbolic. And to be even more trite, the death of grunge, the death of a movement, the death of a time frame. Even with that, there’s a certain mourning that you go through.

All of which might account for the less-urgent feel of Adore. The Pumpkin’s previous double-disc, 1995′s Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness, volleyed so many diffuse, disparate thoughts over the course of 28 songs that it took several listens to get any sense of cohesion. Heavy on keyboards and bubbly programming (courtest of Nitzer Ebb album Bon Harris), Adore goes a converse route. By focusing on the meanings of life and death, Corgan has scripted a diary-personal chapter in Pumpkins history that illuminates, more than its sorrowful subject matter, the personal chapter in Pumpkins history that illuminates, more than its sorrowful subject matter, the very soul of its creator. And the songs, which beam flickering light from a despairing darkness, feel almost like gospel. “I’ve used that word when we were recording,” Corgan nods. “There’s a certain kind of vibrancy that’s in the music that I like a lot. But most art is born from a darkness. Some artists choose to take you to extremes and show you the worms and the maggots. Other artists try and create a contrast, and other artists, well, their darkness is a complete denial of darkness. That’s what makes some of these airbrushed divas so sinister- it’s like they’re living some kind of space-age dream.

“But I’ve always tried to stand right on the Mason-Dixon line of it. And I think that’s what maybe confuses people about the Pumpkins’ music and the Pumpkins as people. We’ve always tried, musically and emotionally, to straddle the lines between good and bad, light and dark. That’s where we see the truth in it. We could dress up and be scary or we could clean up our image. We could do a lot of things, but it’s not who we are. It’s not the lives that we’ve led. We’ve always tried to represent where we stand, and it doesn’t always make for good rock star fodder. But we think it makes for compelling music.” Corgan pounds his fist on the chair armrest to emphasize his words. “We’re willing to basically stand here in the middle of the fire. And lose ourselves in it.”
Iha clears his throat. “In the beginning of the band,” he nearly whispers, “we used to travel so much and tour so much. And the more we keep traveling, the more I become aware of our mortality. The more plane trips we make, the more insane tours we do- it all makes me very aware of my own mortality. I don’t know if that’s paranoid or not. But you hear about so many tragic things happening every day, and it just makes you the more and more aware.”

Corgan, only 30, nods in agreement with Iha and continues the thought. “But when you’re 22, how many people do you know who’ve died that are of your generation? Now that we’ve gotten to this age, it’s like, everywhere we turn, overdoses, suicides or spiritual deaths, where people have just basically given up. I mean, they’re just dead inside. When you’re 22, 23, there’s a lot of idealism. And they can support that idealism because they haven’t had a chance to fuck it up yet.” Cut to scenes a few years down the pike, he adds, “and the world’s hammered ‘em down, and the fact that they were gonna be a National Geographic photographer, well, that’s not really panning out and they’re working at the new custom Arby’s or something. The reality is setting in and you see people having to really fight against it. And just to reframe the album, that’s the kinda stuff I’m trying to get at.

“And sure, there’s a certain percentage of things [on Adore] seen through someone who’s on a weird kind of mountain. I can’t pretend that I am always of the sheep, that’s not the life I lead. But I do try and speak a lot about what’s important to most people. Because when you meet somebody, nothing breaks my heart more- and I’ve said this before, I’ll say it again- than when somebody come up to me, apologizing for working in an ice cream shop. They say ‘Oh, I’m just a lowly ice cream employee.’ And in their mind, they’re already failing. I mean, so what? Does your family love you? Are you having a good time? Are you finding something in life for you? That’s all that really matters. I mean, we can play rock, we can look funny, we can digress into the seventh ring of indie heaven, but at the end of the day, it’s all just a bunch of muckup. It’s not what you, leave this world with. I don’t think God asks you ‘Hey, how was that gig in Hoboken back in ’91?’ You know what I mean?”
Wretzky and Iha are both chuckling softly to themselves. They know what Corgan means. In fact, they know pretty much all there is to know about the man- his foibles, his weaknesses, even his old habits of downplaying their Pumpkins roles in the press. They probably even know the secret to why he shaved his head. And they’ve chosen to stick with him. When it’s mentioned that one of the key components of Adore is his newfound appreciation for his two cohorts, Corgan actually falters for a minute, a lump forming in his throat. “I do appreciate them,” he manages.

“And you definitely pass that line with people. I mean, we’ve been together ten years, and we’ve passed the line where it seems like it’s all going to go away at any minute. It kind of becomes more like, it’s there because you want it to be. And I’m a little embarrassed about the whole subject, because in my mid-twenties confusion I felt the need to point arrows at myself and distinguish myself from the band in a way that was kind of childish. Which, at the time, was underestimating the situation. And we get questions all the time, especially from international journalists.” Corgan adopts a hokey French accent to illustrate this: “‘What iz zee ree-lay-shon-sheep? Are you zee deeek-tay-tor?’ But you can never underestimate the karmic chemistry certain people have together- it doesn’t matter who does what.”

“Growing numb to the relationships, around you,” frowns Wretzky, “is way too easy to do. It’s really easy to take things for granted. And as far as money or anything material goes, well, I think that’s the least important thing to all of us. We really try not to take our situation for granted.”

“And to take it back to the record again,” Corgan interjects, “a lot of what the record was about was an attempt to go back in what’s important at a musical core and build it outward. It’s hard to put it into terms that most people can understand, because people can take it so negatively. If you say, ‘Okay, we’re jaded,’ people go, ‘Yeah-I wish I had a million fuckin’ dollars, too!’ But you do get alienated. And the reason that you got into music is the thing that you end up being alienated from. Because the business, the politics, the life of it just starts to draw you away from the idea ‘Oh yeah- we play music!’ And sometimes music seems to be the least important thing in the world that surrounds you. You pick up an album review, you read about politics. You pick up an article, you read about who they’re fucking. You don’t read a lot about music.”

A recent tabloid item identified Corgan on the arm of a certain supermodel, in line to attend a hot-ticket concert. “But they failed to mention that I was with my girlfriend of two-and-a-half years at the time,” he growls. Iha reports that he got strangely similar treatment at his tenth anniversary high school reunion. Everyone knew what he did for a living, but when we inquired about his former classmates’ occupations, “They’d go, ‘Oh, I don’t do anything.’ Most of ‘em were making good money with computers or they worked at some big corporation, but they just didn’t think it was good enough to tell me because I have this supposedly ‘glamorous lifestyle.’”

“Ha!” Wretzky guffaws. “Tell me about it! If just one of ‘em could-” Corgan hastily cuts in. “No, no, nooooo. Let’s not go there, or we’ll be talking for hours about the ‘how hard it is to be a rock star’ bit.”
Wretzky shrugs, admits defeat. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right. Forget it.” “We’re ‘of the people!’” Corgan cackles. “Can’t you tell?”

A joke. But probably more on the money than the Pumpkins themselves have even guessed. When asked why more performers don’t use their work to map out life’s larger mysteries, Corgan sighs. “I think where a lot of people get tripped up is, their ego gets in the way of their kind of… of… spiritual duty.” Corgan pauses, again, letting the term echo through the cavernous rehearsal studio. “This is a very unpopular way to put it, but if you believe in God and you believe that God is the entity that empowers everyone to do things, then if you’re given the talent to do something on a high level, like music, and you’re given the ability to reach a lot of people, you have almost a responsiblity to be a conveyor of something. It’s doesn’t mean you have to be a conveyor of God’s message. But you have the responsibility to always recognize that you are a servant to the music, the music does not serve you. And I think that’s a very important lesson for people to learn, because when you look at it that way, then everything else falls into perspective.”

And yes, Corgan confesses, “Once Upon A time” and its elegiac Adore companion pieces are coping mechanisms, of a sort. “But that’s the thing- the best way to deal with death is to live. If you really think about it, it’s the most respectful thing you can do in somebody’s memory. Curling up is not going to do any good. But living, actually living in that person’s memory and in that person’s spirit… well, there’s really no better tribute.”

The publicist at Virgin Records can’t say exactly which of the four Smashing Pumpkins will call for the interview, which is scheduled for “between 5:30 and 6:30.” Or even if anyone will call at all.

So, with the enigmatic band’s smashing second album “Siamese Dream” on the stereo at stun volume, this reporter settled back to wait for his Mystery Date: Will it be lead singer/songwriter/guitarist Billy Corgan, the Great Pumpkin himself? Bassist D’Arcy? Drummer Jimmy Chamberlin? Or guitarist James Iha?

When the phone finally rings, sometime around 7:30, it’s D’Arcy, who says she just finished sound check with the band, which appears Saturday and Sunday at WUST Radio Music hall.

“We usually use sound check as a kind of a band practice thing, to try out some new material,” D’Arcy says. “We always have a lot of new songs. They’re pretty rough and pretty basic. I doubt we’ll keep most of them.”

D’Arcy, whose unused last name is Wretzky, is from Michigan, near Kalamazoo, and she says she came to alternative rock “mostly through classical violin for nine years, and choir and band and school musicals and orchestra, all that stuff.

“I always wanted to be in a band,” she says. “I was interested in singing, but it always seemed like there were so many people who sang, that I would need something else, some other attribute, to make me more valuable in a band. And there’s definitely a want for bass players. I didn’t know about that until I started playing. Nobody wants to play the bass, everybody wants to play lead guitar or sing.”

Before Smashing Pumpkins formed in Chicago, D’Arcy and Iha were involved romantically. “I met Billy [Corgan] kind of by accident in a club one night,” she says. “Not in a club, actually, outside the club: He kind of picked a fight with me, about a band that was playing in the club. He said they were put together by a record company. And I thought his reasoning for coming to that conclusion was very thin. He said you could tell because the guitar player jumps around on stage so much.

“And I said, ‘Well, I’m in band, and I jump around a lot.’ And he was,’Oh yeah? You’re in a band? You play bass?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah, I play bass, what do you wanna make of it? You don’t believe me?’ And he said, ‘No, I have a band and I’m looking for a bass player.’

“I can’t believe that I actually called him. Those were wilder days. If it happened today, I would probably just write him off as an idiot,” D’Arcy says.

But she did call him, and Smashing Pumpkins began to grow. The band’s first album, “Gish,” was an early symptom of the grunge epidemic. “Siamese Dream,” its major-label debut produced with Butch Vig, who did the honors on Nirvana’s “Nevermind,” went platinum last week. The group’s smashing overnight success actually took five and a half years.

That success means Smashing Pumpkins is suddenly on the covers of magazines such as Spin and Details, with interviews that focus on the towering (6-3) Corgan to the exclusion of the rest of the band.

“People always want to compare us to whatever’s big at the moment,” D’Arcy says. “Especially Nirvana, of course, but everyone gets compared to them. They use Nirvana as some kind of scale by which to judge every band. Most of them are lazy comparisons.”

Success also means Smashing Pumpkins is selling out shows around the country. “We’re playing kind of smaller venues,” D’Arcy says. “We feel like this is the last chance we’ll get to play these smaller places, and it’s much more intimate.”

Recreating the lush, layered, ultra-melodic hard rock of “Siamese Dream” onstage is a challenge.

“Before we record songs, we always like to play all the songs a lot live, to see how they work,” D’Arcy says. “When we recorded ‘Siamese Dream,’ we used a Mellotron, string instruments, multiple, multiple guitar parts . . . But we always know we can go back and play it live with whatever we have and it’s still a good, solid song.”

“Usually, songs get a lot faster,” she says. “Billy said he listened to the record today for the first time in a long time, and onstage we’re playing all the fast songs much faster, and the slow songs are much slower.”

Corgan writes most of the words and music, and songs like “Soma” and “Spaceboy” are intensely, almost embarrassingly personal and direct.

“Most of the time I know what the songs are about,” D’Arcy says. “There are some things that are real specific to him and some things that are just kind of general misery. I listen to him and I know about his life so much already, so it’s just not really necessary for me to know what every line in every song is about, and I’m not really curious.

“[Corgan] is doing much better these days,” she says. “But I’m sure that it won’t be that way for long, you know. He’s very volatile, he can never stay happy for long.

But D’Arcy seems content. “I’m really happy with this band and this music — I think if I didn’t play the music all the time, I would probably listen to it. I’ve been in several other bands and I could never stay for more than a couple months because I would get sick of the music. We do so many styles of music, and have so much material that it never gets old. It seems like the ultimate kind of band, like a Beatles kind of band.”

Before she hangs up, D’Arcy wants to clear something up.

“The name of the band is a stupid name, a dumb bad joke and a bad idea, OK?” she says. “Billy named the band before there even was a band. He was like, ‘I’m gonna have a band and it’s gonna be called this.’ ‘Smashing’ is not a verb, it’s an adjective. It’s not like we like to smash pumpkins or anything. And we are not amused by pumpkin jokes anymore.”

I guess that means calling their fans Pumpkinheads is out.

“People bring us pumpkins,” D’Arcy says, “they have pumpkin motifs in our dressing rooms. I mean, this one girl actually asked us if we change our name for every holiday — like we’d be the Smashing Turkeys or the Smashing Santa Clauses. The Smashing Christopher Columbuses. And she was serious. Can you believe that?”

All hail Billy Corgan, leader of Smashing Pumpkins and the new lord of Lollapalooza! by Andy Aledort

“You don’t choose to write a song about pain. It just happens,” says Billy Corgan. “Should I ignore what I feel and go out and sing Gerry and the Pacemakers songs, because that’s what people want to hear? Screw everybody. I’m going to stand up and sing my blues, and if I’m gonna go down, I’m going down with my own songs.”

Obviously, success hasn’t mellowed the leader of the Smashing Pumpkins patch. Corgan is just as outspoken as before the double- platinum Siamese Dream catapulted his band, in less than half a year, from a marginally acknowledged alternative outfit to one of the world’s biggest and most successful bands. He’s garnered massive amounts of press for both the power of highly original music and the highly combustible melodrama of the Pumpkins’ inter-relationships. But instead of being torn apart at the seams by its successes, The Smashing Pumpkins have been revitalized, and are ready to push the envelope and take rock into new, uncharted territories.

“We now have an opportunity to convince people that we’re real,” says Corgan. “We’ve built up a solid fan base, and I think it’s strong enough that if we put out a really strange album, people will go out and buy it, maybe even to listen to it just once. We make our own little brand of music, and the more ‘out’ we go, the more people seem to respond. I don’t think our fans want us to be like everybody else. I really think our uniqueness is appreciated and respected, and in a way, it’s my responsibility to continue to cultivate that, and not homogenize it.”

In the following interview, Billy talks about his headlining position in Lollapalooza ’94 and what the last 12 months of heavy touring has taught him. Plus, he gives us a very special preview of the much-anticipated follow-up to Siamese Dream.

GUITAR SCHOOL: Is the band rehearsing for the Lollapalooza tour?

BILLY CORGAN: No. I’m retired now. [laughs] I’m kidding. Besides getting ready for Lollapalooza, we’ve just finished a complete remastering of Gish [Smashing Pumpkins' 1991 debut].

GS: You’re re-releasing the album?

CORGAN: Yes. We’re not going to make a big deal about it, but it really does sound way better. The original album was mastered off of DAT’s, but when I went back and listened to the analog tapes, the analogs sounded better to me. It’s most noticeable at the bottom end of the rhythm guitar. We’re not trying to rip people off, saying, “Hey, it’s remastered!,” but I really did take the opportunity to upgrade the sound quality.

GS: With the success of Siamese Dream, I’m sure many people are going back to Gish and checking it out, many for the first time.

CORGAN: A few months ago I went back and listened to it for the first time in a couple of years, and was surprised at how good it was! [laughs] It’s kind of an artistic thing to dismiss everything you’ve done before so that you can move on, and I really did that after Gish. I also forgot about all of the head traumas I was going through at the time.

GS: What kind of problems did you have?

CORGAN: Your typical “Pumpkin” turmoil, which I must point out is now a thing of the past. Back then, part of the strain was that I never had the opportunity to spend much time in the studio. Before Gish, the longest I’d worked in a studio was maybe four or five hours in a row. Suddenly, I was putting in 12-, 13-hour days.

GS: How long did it take to record Gish?

CORGAN: All told, about 45 days. We were under budget constraints, unlike Siamese Dream, which was like a “forever” thing.

GS: Are there any advantages to being under a time or budget constraint?

CORGAN: Oh yeah, definitely. It forces you to make decisions. For example, you have to realize that you’re never going to play the perfect solo. Things that are timeless aren’t necessarily that way because they were meticulously constructed. Sometimes it’s either there or it isn’t. We will try to quicken the pace when we do the next album – not for budget reasons, but because I don’t want to spend too much time sucking the life out of things by overworking them. The only thing I didn’t like about Gish has to do with “I Am One.” In hindsight, it was really the first true Pumpkins song – it really seemed to click us into another gear. We recorded it for a seven-inch at least a year before recording Gish. I’m disappointed that I didn’t take advantage of the chance to re-record the song for the album.

GS: Is there anything else you regret not doing on Gish?

CORGAN: It’s easy to get confused – you get older and a little wiser, and you think, “I was dumb then.” But under the circumstances, I think Gish is a pretty good album. I’m not proud of it in some ways – I think I could have been a little more original in places – but in term of some things, the guitars, for example, I think it’s pretty cool. It definitely defined our band’s sound.

GS: Gish has a very particular sound. Was it a conscious effort to make it that way?

CORGAN: I often get accused of being overly conscious, but I was very conscious of what I was doing at the time of Gish. I really felt that I could sense where music was headed; I knew where I wanted to be, and I knew where I wanted the band to be.

GS: Did you have moments of doubt when you wondered whether people were going to relate to your conception?

CORGAN: It’s hard to explain. People would say to me, “You write such pretty songs. Why do you bother with dumb rock?” My answer is, “Because I like it! It’s fun!” There’s something very visceral about playing rock music that’s unexplainable. Some of the greatest songs in the world are easy enough for anybody to play. It’s not about riffs or complexity or any of that. It either rocks you, or it doesn’t. For years I’ve sworn that we’d never play “I Am One” again, because it’s got to be the stupidest riff ever. But it rocks, and it works.

GS: You remind me of Pete Townshend. He’s argued that rock is both the greatest thing that ever happened and pretty much worthless as music.

CORGAN: Well, it is! [laughs] I’m definitely both ally and traitor. I feel like many people don’t grasp where the band is coming from, especially in live situations. We’re smart enough to realize the cliches in rock ‘n’ roll, but there’s a certain kind of truth to some of those cliches. For example, when you end a song with a big bang, you get more applause than if you end the song without a big bang. So, end songs with big bangs, and you’ll make people think they’re having a good time! There’s plenty of stupid things like that. We recognize the cliches, and we kind of reject and embrace them all at the same time.

GS: That kind of awareness seems to have everything to do with where rock is right now.

CORGAN: It’s very ’90s, yeah. The other thing is that most 12- to 19- year olds don’t care and don’t know jack shit about the history of rock ‘n’ roll, so all of this intellectualizing doesn’t make any difference to them. All they know is that Rage Against The Machine, or Tool, or whoever they’re watching, is moving them from the groin. I try not to lose sight of that, but I’m always at war inside myself, trying to make peace with both sides. Pete Townshend is not a bad analogy for me in that sense, because I’ve over-intellectualized rock ‘n’ roll to the point of being negative, yet I’m still doing it.

GS: When you’re writing one of your larger pieces of music, like “Soma” [Siamese Dream], is it hard to balance your different roles of songwriter, singer and guitarist?

CORGAN: I just keep switching hats. Literally, I’ll say to myself, “Let’s look at it from the singing point of view: Are there enough vocal hooks? Is the vocal line carrying the song?” Ultimately, it’s the vocal line that carries the song. Then I’ll switch to guitar: “There’s four bars between these two vocal parts; can I fit a cool guitar part in there? Does it need to modulate?” Then I’ll switch and look at it from just a listening point of view: “Is this boring?” We have a rule in the band, which is called “more fun to play than to listen to.” We try to keep in mind that, once the music is out of our hands, it’s the listeners who have to deal with it. Some bands pretend that they don’t take that element into consideration, but I think if people were truly that way, they wouldn’t even bother to write songs – they’d just jam and make stuff up.

GS: So you don’t want the music to be more fun to play than to listen to?

CORGAN: Right. There’s a lot of stuff that’s really fun to play, but… When we’re bored at practice, we down-tune our guitars and play like Soundgarden for 20 minutes. It’s fun. I certainly don’t mean that as a negative statement about Soundgarden; I’m just saying that there’s a lot of things that really don’t hit home in the way we’d like them to. A great rock riff gets you about 60 seconds, and then you’ve got to have everything else to back it up. Montrose is a good example of that [laughs]: They always had a great opening riff, but Sammy [Hagar] could never deliver!

GS: Do you ever rearrange or restructure songs just for playing them live, or just for the sake of trying them in different incarnations?

CORGAN: We’ve tried three different versions of the song “Disarm,” from playing it just like the record to playing the same arrangement in a very stripped-down fashion – just voice and guitar, with the drums entering halfway through. Then we did a totally heavy version for a TV show in England. It was the exact same arrangement, but the approach was different. As the tours went on, I continually dicked with the arrangements of the songs from Gish. With Siamese Dream, we haven’t changed one single arrangement, but we have changed the way we attack the songs.

GS: How would you compare Gish and Siamese Dream?

CORGAN: Gish, right off the top, is a heavier record, which appeals to the teenager in me. I really struggled with the record that Siamese Dream was going to be because it’s just easier to make a rock record. Some people would say, “You’re crazy! It is a rock record!” But I think of it more an “everything” record. There’s a part of me that’s disappointed that Siamese Dream was not heavier, or had more heavy songs, which will come out as B-sides, but I didn’t think they were good enough to be on the album. The idea with the next album is to make two albums; it’ll be a double record, and one will be really heavy and the other will be really spacey.

GS: Each record will have a totally separate concept?

CORGAN: Right. But we’re also returning to what I would call “Gish- like” dynamics – which means the shit will be all over the place. “Geek USA” is the only song on Siamese Dream that to me is an extension of what Gish was, whereas “Cherub Rock” and “Quiet,” which are a step forward in terms of melodicism and construction, are also a step backwards in terms of dynamics. After Lollapalooza ends in September, I’ll begin working really hard on writing, and then we’ll go in the studio in February of ’95. I think we’ve got one more rock record in us before we peter out.

GS: Why do you say that?

CORGAN: On some level, I’m still uncomfortable with playing rock music live. To me, it’s more pretentious than any other kind of music [laughs]. I don’t know if that’s just “Spinal Tap” awareness or what, but it’s just hard to rock, and rock hard, without being and doing certain things. But we’re geared back up to rock hard. We’ve been working on some stuff that’s pretty heavy.

GS: Some of those time-honored conventions that rock bands use can become like parlor tricks, and they lose their potency.

CORGAN: Yeah, like a card trick or something, like doing the stop-start thing, or whatever. We’ve used up most of those old tricks by now, so I’m trying to come up with new ones.

GS: You can try them out on Lollapalooza.

CORGAN: We’re really going to try to give people a different kind of show. Lollapalooza is easy to get inspired about because you’re not in direct competition with any other band, but you compete for attention, and you compete for, like, who are they going to be talking about when they walk out of there? It’s great to be in the spot we’re in [as headliners], and terrifying all at the same time.

GS: What do you think of the whole Lollapalooza concept?

CORGAN: In its original conception, I think it was a really great idea, and its time in America was long overdue. This type of thing has been pulled off in Europe for years. We’ve done shows over there with Bryan Adams and Lou Reed. Looking at the bill, you might think that it would never work. But when you look into the audience, they’re just out in the sun, having a good time. Music is music, and all that political stuff doesn’t matter. If they don’t like you over there, they throw mud! Lollapalooza is not an original idea, but the basic idea of the traveling circus type of thing is really cool, and is something that benefits everyone. In hindsight, it’s definitely helped bands like Nine Inch Nails and Rollins Band move up the ladder in terms of people knowing about them. But it becomes political, and you see bands on the bill for the wrong reasons. That’s not good. It’s happened in the past and it was a major concern of mine this year when the Lollapalooza people approached us. I begged them to put aside the politics and put together a bill that was just entertaining. L7 is a good example. Whether you don’t like girl bands, or grunge bands, or whatever the 80 reasons might be not to like L7, you can’t say that they’re not a good band, and you can’t say that they’re not entertaining. L7 is not going to put anybody to sleep, and the kids aren’t going to run for the hotdog stand when they’re playing. I think they’ve done a really good job of putting together a great bill this year, and even if you don’t like all of the music, you’ll stick around and watch a lot of the bands for the entertainment value.

GS: Do you have any favorites, as far as the bands that are on this year’s bill?

CORGAN: That’s not something that I like to talk about. [laughs] Let me just say that I like all of the bands.

GS: Do you have any feelings about the abundance of women on the bill?

CORGAN: I think, as an issue, it’s finally asserted itself. Having played in a band for the last six years with a woman, you get over the issue of male/female really quick. It’s just human beings – everybody gets sick, everybody has feelings. I don’t know if people mean it maliciously, but pointing it out in itself can be something of a put-down. I think that, as in all things, the balance is finally being achieved, and, over the next 10 years, we’ll probably see less male artists and more female artists – not because there’s less male artists, but because the talent will balance out between male and female. It won’t even be a big deal that a band will have two boys and two girls. I think that anything that distracts from the pure listening of music is negative. People sometimes focus on me and my personal problems, so I’m not sure they’re listening to our music with an open heart. I know a lot of people that purposely resisted listening to my music because of the things that they have read, and that’s kind of hard to deal with. To me, that’s no different from saying, “You’re black, so I didn’t want to listen to your music, but I heard it by accident and I like it.”

GS: It’s a type of prejudice.

CORGAN: In the sense that you’re singling people out one way or the other. It’s not an ideal world, but I’d rather have it be a horse race based purely on band ability. I mean, it’s like whether or not you’re cute [laughs]. Some people are at disadvantage because they’re not what might be considered photogenic.

GS: I think that someone like Johnny Winter has been a victim of that, solely because he does look different.

CORGAN: It’s funny that you mentioned Johnny Winter, because we have a Johnny Winter tribute song that we’re going to record for the next album. It sounds like Rick Derringer-era Johnny Winter, like the “Rock ‘n’ Roll, Hoochie Koo” days. I’m really into his Robert Johnson stuff, that whole trip, like the song “Dallas” from his first album. And there’s a really beautiful song called “Cheap Tequila” [Still Alive And Well]. I love that song! The tribute song is mostly an instrumental, and then every once in a while I go [screams in a Johnny Winter voice], “Oh yeah!!!” You have to hear it; I wonder how many people will get the reference.

GS: Why don’t you record something with Johnny, or have him play with you live?

CORGAN: Oh, god. I’d be so intimidated by a pure guitar player like him. I’m pretty aware of my deficiencies as a guitarist, and I’d end up babbling on about how I wish I practiced more or something.

GS: As a fan of both Smashing Pumpkins and Johnny Winter, it’s totally cool to imagine Johnny walking out and playing live with you guys, and I can see it as kind of making sense, too.

CORGAN: Yeah, right, like, “Hey Johnny, learn ‘Cherub Rock’, would ya?” [laughs] All I know is, when I watched the Bob Dylan tribute, the only part that smoked me was when Johnny came out and did “Highway 61.” He was unbelievable. Even James Iha, who could give two shits about Johnny Winter, had his mouth hanging open. We’ll record that tribute and put it out somehow, someway, and we’ll just call it “Tribute To Johnny” so you’ll know. I have that underdog thing. I look at someone like him, who is so amazing, and has had an interesting, strange career, and I’m more apt to root for him. Jimmy Page and Jimi Hendrix don’t need any more rooting for them. If anything, they’ve had too much hype.

GS: It seems like you have a healthy respect for people who do things differently…just like your fans!

CORGAN: We make our own little brand of music, and the more “out” we go, the more people seem to respond. I don’t think our fans want us to be like everybody else. I really feel like our uniqueness is appreciated and respected, and in a way, it’s my responsibility to continue to cultivate that, and not homogenize it. Believe me, in one week I could write 10 songs that sound like Smashing Pumpkins, but I don’t think that’s the precedent the band has set. I’m 27; by the time the next album comes out, I’ll be 28, and by the time the next one comes out, I’ll be 30. These are the prime years of my rocking life – I’m not going to blow it by being lame.

He’s My Brother by Beth Wilson

There were divorces. Money was tight. You could say the Corgan boys grew up knowing hardship. Yet, today Billy is a rock star and, despite numerous disabilities, Jesse finished school, got a job and is writing plays. Here is their story.

If you know Billy Corgan, it’s probably Billy Corgan the rock star, the voice and driving force behind the Smashing Pumpkins, one of the nation’s top alternative rock bands.

It’s the Billy Corgan who, in the hit “Disarm” raises his voice in anger, then softly pleads for understanding and compassion. It’s the Billy Corgan who, as the song builds to a crescendo, reveals, “I used to be a little boy, so old in my shoes.”

That’s the Billy Corgan most people know — the man with the sold-out concerts, the man publicized in Rolling Stone magazine, the man with the triple platinum albums.

But there’s another Billy Corgan that few people see. That’s the Billy Corgan who made it through a rugged childhood in a broken home while helping to raise a younger, disabled half brother named Jesse, once diagnosed by doctors as having “no potential”.

Today, Jesse is a high-school graduate, works part time and attends College of DuPage. In his spare time, he writes plays.

***

It’s late Friday morning when Billy Corgan walks into a tiny North Side Chicago diner after parking his black Mercedes outside.

At more than 6 feet tall, he ducks in the door, quickly surveys the crowd and sits down.

That Smashing Pumpkins have just come off a series of four sold-out benefit concerts at the Double Door in Chicago. Previewing material for the upcoming double album, the Pumpkins donated part of the proceeds to the Western DuPage Special Recreation Association — a group to which Billy’s brother Jesse belongs.

Jesse was born with mild cerebral palsy that caused him to walk on his toes, and Tourette’s syndrome (a neurological disorder that can cause nonsensical or uncontrolled speech). He also had heart problems and a chromosomal disorder that caused him to be slower than the other children.

Those kids, naturally, made fun of him, but Billy was usually nearby to look out for him.

“It comes with a lot of mixed feelings,” said Billy, 28, of his role in raising Jesse. “I just did it because it was the right thing to do. I just accepted it as the way things were.”

As kids, he remembers always being with Jesse. A member of the junior high basketball team, Billy would play sports for hours on end. He brought Jesse, who played in a nearby sandbox.

Some boys wanted to know who the “retard kid” was. “That’s my brother,” Billy would tell them.

Jesse looked different and had difficulty talking. At times, his speech was garbled, indecipherable to anyone but Billy, who tried to teach him to speak more clearly.

“I saw how cruel people really are,” said Billy, whose parents divorced when he was 3. “If you can’t find it in your heart to love someone like this…well,” he pauses. “The world is so petty. So damned petty.”

Although the experinece gave Billy a strong sense of individuality and determination, it also left him alone-and angry.

“Taking care of my brother, I missed out on a lot,” he said. “I never seemed to fit in. But it made me try to strive for things ten times more.”

Billy taught Jesse how to play baseball near Marquardt Middle School in Glendale Heights and read him books at night before they fell asleep.

Occasionally, in the middle of the night, Jesse would wake up and then go back to sleep on the floor by his brother’s bed until Billy would wake up and let him in.

Says Billy’s stepmother, Penny Andersen: “He became to Jesse what he would have wanted in a father.”

As an honor student at Glenbard North High School, Billy said he didn’t have much of a social life. He felt isolated and resentful.

“Most kids with my kind of energy don’t sit in the house and take care of kids,” Billy said.

***

Music was Billy’s escape. He played guitar and dreamed of becoming a rock star.

“I just started dreaming this elaborate dream,” he said. “It made life more bearable.”

Then, Billy thought, he would be rich, famous, beautiful and accepted.

Although he struggles to talk about his troubled youth (“I’ve blocked a lot of it out”), the emotion often propels and pierces through his music.

Writing “Siamese Dream” a 1993 CD that sold more than 3 million copies, Corgan said he collected thoughts about his own life, selected the most embarresing lines and used them.

Lines like “I’m all by myself as I’ve always felt” and “We don’t belong.”

The result was an album that catapulted Corgan and the Pumpkins into the national spotlight. The music ranges from driving, bass-propelled mosh-pit favorites to soft, light, beautiful melodies-often with songs containing a mixture of both.

***

After Billy Corgan’s parents were divorced, Billy and his brother Ricky were shuffled between households. They ended up living with their father when he remarried.

But that marriage, which produced half brother Jesse, was rocky, too. His father, a guitar player, spent a lot of time on the road.

When the couple finally seperated, the three children, Billy, 11, Ricky, 9, and Jesse, 2, continued living with Jesse’s mother, Penny.

“I was terrified,” Penny remembers.

There she was with two kids who weren’t biologically her own, and another with multiple disabilities and hefty medical bills.

She spent a good deal of time in and out of doctors’ offices with Jesse, who nearly died during heart surgery at the age of 4 months. The diagnoses were often grim or wrong, she said.

“Unfortunately, I leaned on Billy,” she said. “Billy had a lot to handle as a young man.”

Worried about what would happen if she lost her job as a flight attendant, she went to school full-time to pursue a college degree.

Needless to say, money was tight. In the evenings, sometimes Penny brought home dinner. Sometimes they had macaroni and cheese. Sometimes cereal.

“It was always Kmart,” she said.

***

Answering the door to his Glen Ellyn home, Jesse is happy, polite and gentle.

He likes his job. He sorts laundry at the Oakbrook Hyatt and visits a mentally retarded man in his home once a week. Sometimes this weekend, he’ll have to study for his history class at College of DuPage. He’s also taking driving lessons.

Clutching a can of Canfield’s soda, Jesse, 19, talks with ease about his life and relationship with his famous brother.

“We’ve been through a lot,” he said. “He’s just a great brother to have.”

Although Penny says Jesse may not fully comprehend his complex disabilities or accomplishments, others do.

“No one in our family would be as special without Jesse,” Penny said. “You can be born with so little and achieve so much. He’s been an inspiration.”

Growing up, he gradually learned to speak more fluently around his family, but friends made him nervous. “I’d have a normal conversation with him,” Penny said. Then outside around his peers, Jesse would say, “Oh, it’s going to snow tomorrow,” and it was June, Penny said.

The more the kids made fun of him, the more he withdrew. “I just kept it to myself,” Jesse says now. “I just got quiet, you know.”

But in school, Jesse continued to surprise everyone.

A one-time honor roll student at Hadley Junior High School in Glen Ellyn, Jesse graduated from Glenbard West High School with more credits than necessary.

In high school, Jesse began to open up. There he made his own circle of friends and enjoyed Billy’s newfound fame.

“Kids who would call him retard now said ‘Hey J-man, how’s it going?” Penny said.

Billy’s success made some students give Jesse a chance. And once they got to know him, they liked him, Penny said.

Although Jesse struggled his senior year with fears of leaving high school, he, like his brothers, has developed his own creative outlet.

Billy writes songs, Ricky is an artist, and Jesse, it turns out, loves acting. He joined the acting troupe at the Western DuPage Special Recreation Association, and then began to write his own plays.

He wrote in study hall, at home, anywhere. When a thought hit Jesse, he’d write it on a scrap of paper. Pretty soon, scraps of paper were all over the house.

Jesse says he’d shut himself in his room, writing three scenes in one sitting. Describing the plots, Jesse quickly becomes absorbed.

In the “Haunted Sleep Over”, a group of teen-agers spend a night in a haunted mansion.

In his second play, “Phantom of the Hoosiers,” set at Indiana University, one character is disfigured, similar to the character in “Phantom of the Opera.”

The latter play, performed by the recreation association’s acting troupe, received two standing ovations.

In the audience, not only were there childhood neighbors from Glendale Heights, but also his brother Billy.

“I’m so proud of him,” Billy said. “He’s just so damned determined. I take a lot of inspiration from that.”

At one time tentative on stage, Jesse, whose most visible disability is evident in his speech, is now one of the most confident. He faces the audience, speaks clearly, remembers his lines and coaches others.

“I am more confident,” said Jesse. “Ten years ago, I would never had done that.”

And, as he gets older, he and Billy have more in common.

“We’re both pretty creative,” Jesse said. “We both like to do things to entertain people.”

Jesse says fame hasn’t changed Billy, except that he cut his once shoulder-length hair. Jesse likes going to the Pumpkins’ concerts and staying in the VIP section, or the “safety zone,” as he calls it. “I don’t want to get moshed on.”

He also enjoys hearing the song “Spaceboy,” which Billy wrote for Jesse.

“I’m the only one at the concerts,” he said, “who gets teary-eyed.”

***

The brothers are grown now. Billy’s married and Jesse has his own life. Their conversations are more of the man-to-man variety. Jesse needs a friend more than a father figure.

“When someone has so many needs,” Billy said, “it’s an awkward transition not to be needed like that anymore. I felt a bit rejected.”

Regardless, Billy said he’s trying to ease his paternal instinct with Jesse. But it’s hard.

“I’m still telling him what to do and he’s still ignoring me,” Billy laughs. “I hope to grow beyond that.”

The End Of The Smashing Pumpkins As We Know Them by Michael Goldberg

Pumpkinland, the Chicago studio where the Smashing Pumpkins spent much of a year recording their epic new album, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, is located at the center of Gang Central. “If I could get the garage door down, I could show you the symbol for the Latin Kings,” says Pumpkins drummer Jimmy Chamberlain, as we stand out in the alley behind Pumpkinland. “The Latin Kings are in a gang war with the Simon City Royals.”

The graffiti covered walls of nearby buildings attest to a territorial rivalry. “They leave us alone though,” continues Chamberlain, glancing up the alley that leads to the studio’s rear entrance.

“One night there was a drive by while we were eating in the restaurant across the street,” Chamberlain says. “Two bullets through the studio window, but no one here got hit. Come on, let’s go back inside.”

The Pumpkins, of course, have been engaged in their own “gang war” of sorts since forming in 1988. According to the outspoken leader of the group, Billy Corgan, they were never accepted by the other Chicago bands. And their increasing success, first with Gish, then with Siamese Dream, only made them the target of national and international gibes. Anti-Pumpkin sentiments came to a head, perhaps, when Pavement actually dissed them in “Range Life” (“I don’t understand what they mean/ And I could really give a fuck”).

Nevermind. When you’ve sold over three million copies of an album (Siamese Dream), you can put up with the slags of less successful bands. Or can you? “I’m mad as hell,” Corgan will tell me, mid-way through a conversation that takes place in the studio lounge. “All I can really say about that is that when you’re young, the anger comes out in dumb ways. The anger comes out in breaking things or doing crime or whatever. And then as you get older, the anger comes out in other ways, like verbal things. The core of my anger is, I think, still intact. It’s just taken a different form. It’s not as viscerally surfaced but it’s still in there. It’s something I don’t think I’ve ever dealt with.”

Whether because of, or despite the anger, Corgan his fellow Pumpkins have followed up Siamese Dream with an incredible piece of work. Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness is a 28 song rock masterpiece, a double album that deserves to share shelf space with the Clash’s London Calling, Springsteen’s The River and, yes, the Stones’ Exile On Main Street. Only time will tell, but after listening off and on to the album for nearly two months, it still sounds like a classic.

At Pumpkinland, where the album was recorded with Flood and Alan Moulder sharing the role of producer, Corgan attends to a phone interview, standing atop an equipment case, pacing in circles, a portable phone glued to the side of his head. Bassist D’Arcy is having her makeup done for a photo shoot, while guitarist James Iha is hunched over a conference table, inhaling coffee in an attempt to wake up.

Chamberlain gives me a quick tour of Pumpkinland. The main, immense, brick-walled studio, still contains his drum kit, Marshall amps, synthesizers and guitar cases. Lots and lots of guitar cases. “That over there is probably the most important piece of equipment,” says the drummer. He is pointing to a heater.

There is a beat up Stratocaster with a sticker that says “I Love My Mom” on it. Lyric sheets are sitting on a music stand. “I’m never coming back / I’m never giving in,” reads one lyric fragment. On one wall hangs a white board listing all the songs that ended up on the album. As each band member finished their parts­­bass track, drums, guitars, vocals­­it would be checked off. “That was the only way we could keep track, there was so much material,” Chamberlain says.

Nearby, I discover the secret of the Pumpkins’ sound. There is a pile of old, analog guitar effects boxes and pedals: “Fuzz Tone,” “Bassballs,” “Phaser FX20,” “Rat,” “Maestro,” “Phase 100,” “Big Muff.”

I spoke with Billy Corgan in the lounge at the front of the studio. Sitting rather stiffly on a couch, he answered my questions frankly, but was quick to let me know when a subject was off-limits. As we spoke, he seemed to loosen up. It was clear that he has thought long and hard about the Smashing Pumpkins’ seven year journey. Clearly a control freak, Corgan is doing his best to leave nothing to chance. As you’ll discover when you read this interview, which took place in late September (a month before the release of Mellon Collie), he’d already made plans for the two possible eventualities. The new album becoming: 1) a smash; or 2) a commercial failure.

Addicted To Noise: A double album is a pretty ambitious project…

Billy Corgan: In the original inception of the band, the notion was to, in a general way, push boundaries and as a live band, we’ve tried to do that in the song structures, we’ve tried to do that in our videos. So it only follows that we would make an album that would follow in that same line of thinking. The first reaction that people have is it’s such a preposterous ’70s kind of thing to do, why would you do that in 1995? That’s exactly the point. It kind of knocks people upside the head to at least reexamine their perception of what an album is. Things like that.

ATN: The fact that someone would say something like, oh, such a ’70s thing as opposed to like….when the Rolling Stones, for example, did Exile on Main Street, I don’t think they cared what someone else thought. They had a lot of material. They recorded all this stuff. It was cool. Or the Beatles…bands back then didn’t seem like they worried so much about what was hip at the moment.

Corgan: I don’t think we had the same amount of media speculation and judgment. I think a lot of those ideas were still being formed [during the '60s]. I really reached a point in my life where I don’t care what the preconceptions are about what a rock band should be because I think we’ve, at least in some ways, proven that it’s not about sticking to any kind of rules. It’s not as obviously anarchistic. You’re not breaking your guitars and shouting anarchy, but it’s a little more insidious, I think.

ATN: Were you thinking, well, this is something that goes completely against the grain of what’s happening now? Was that a factor in deciding to do a 28-song album?

Corgan: No, it had more to do with my own malaise and trying to find a structure to work in that would be inspiring and really push me as a songwriter. Yeah, giving everybody the finger is part of the thinking, but it’s not a large part of the thinking.

ATN: Change seems to be one of the themes that comes up. I haven’t studied every lyric but it’s definitely there in a number of different songs. Tell me about that. Why is that a theme that’s in this album?

Corgan: I don’t know. Life kind of goes in seven-year cycles and the band’s in it’s seventh year. You’re kind of hitting the end of one cycle and moving on to another so there’s a friction that goes on between giving up the old and moving into the new.

I think the world has changed in seven years. I’ve certainly changed in seven years and the band has changed in seven years. Change is kind of a frightening thing, you know. The thought of change is sometimes a lot worse than actually where you end up. But it’s the fear of what the possibilities are.

ATN: Have you felt that? Have you felt afraid of change?

Corgan: Oh sure. Nobody wants to get old.

ATN: When you think about change, what are the things that you’ve been afraid of? Obviously getting old would be one.

Corgan: Well, simple mortality kinds of things like disconnecting from…in my case, it would be disconnecting from the audience to the point of where I can’t relate anymore. That’s why I thought it was important to write this album now because I can still communicate and connect with, you know, a teenage heart. I’m not sure I can connect with that heart too much longer.

ATN: So then what happens?

Corgan: I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet. I’m still on the other side.

ATN: You’re 28 right now. Turning 30 used to be such a big deal back in the ’60s and ’70s, but is it such a big deal now to you?

Corgan: Certainly. Of course it is. Basically, we’ve extended the boundaries by which rock music is played by people as far as age is concerned. But let’s face it, these bands that are 40+ are not really rocking anybody, you know what I mean? They’re capable of being moving, but the difference between what a band like Nirvana was capable of doing in their prime versus what the Rolling Stones can now do at age 50, there’s no comparison. And that’s the reality of it and I think you have to see the forest from the trees. That has a lot to do with your youth, your ambition and your energy. You start getting cars and mortgages and wives and families and… It’s not the same. Going out and rocking everybody is not a central part of your life. And I think as that starts to move away from the core of your existence, you have to recognize the shift in where your focus lies. Nobody wants to hear that. It’s not very pretty but it’s the truth.

ATN: Also, there’s a tendency, it seems, that when someone is in the middle of success hitting, that it feels like it’s going to be there forever. You see a lot of artists slip into this thing, selling several million copies of an album then suddenly before they know it, a few years have gone by and they’re over here and the audience is over there…

Corgan: And the world has passed them by. I think that kind of consciousness that I’m talking about is a necessity to keep on that razor’s edge of consciousness.

ATN: You work really hard for a long time but when it actually happens, the moment when an audience suddenly catches on is pretty quick. There are a lot of changes that happen. I wondered about some of the ways success has affected you and the band.

Corgan: Because it’s happened over time, in some ways, it’s been a gradual process of adjustment. You adjust to people asking you for things, whether it be autographs or pictures or people want to talk to you about something you said. You adjust to that as a normal part of your life. The hard part is things like you start to get this snipey press because you become symbolic of something, so you’re an easy reference point. Things like that. People finding out where you live. It’s stuff like that that’s been the hardest adjustment for me. I can’t speak for everyone. Everyone has their own take on it.

But as far as the adulation part of it, our feet are so firmly planted in the ground and it’s always been the core essence of where the band takes its energy from that the starry-eyed part has never really taken grasp. I’ve seen people go through their little phases but in general, we’re pretty much the same people. If you could look at our surroundings here, although it’s a nice big place, it’s pretty humble. We sit at that thrift store table and eat chicken and go and rehearse. It’s still about the music for us and it’s still about the power of it. That, in comparison to what goes on around it, it doesn’t seem that important. And in some ways, if you’re doing it right, it should come with it, you know.

ATN: How much is riding on this album?

Corgan: A lot. Probably everything.

ATN: What are you thinking of?

Corgan: I really believe that there are still lingering question marks about the band. As other people have kindly pointed out, a lot of people don’t really realize this is our third album [fourth if you include Pisces Iscariot]. And I really think in this day and age of quick communication and the way that people are so quickly and easily dismissed, and considering the amount of years in the band and everything, I think that it’s kind of a necessity that this album be very successful or it’s pretty much the end of the band.

I don’t want this album viewed as an artistic failure publicly. And the way that it will be viewed as an artistic failure publicly is if it doesn’t sell. Because people will say if you’d just done a single album and written some hits, you would have been fine. But you had to go and do this….your self indulgent album… and look what it’s done. And that is why you deserve to be beaten over the head. I’m not going to live in an environment like that and I’m not going to go out and play shows with people clucking their tongues and saying “What an idiot.” I don’t believe that it’s an artistic failure but I’m certainly not going to allow the world to beat me up about it. No one can take away the album. But we can take away the band from getting beaten up on. I know the album is good and I hope everyone else agrees, but if you’re going to go out in public, if you’re going to do interviews….imagine if this album was a failure and we did another album, what would be the first or second question. “So in the wake of the last album, what are your feelings now about doing the double album?” I don’t want to live with those kinds of questions because I would take great offense.

ATN: Are you saying that if this album doesn’t achieve a certain amount of commercial success that the band will break up?

Corgan: Any way you look at it, it’s pretty much the end of the band as far as people would know the Smashing Pumpkins, because we’re going to move on musically anyway and take a much different tact. That’s already been decided. So you have three options. One is the band breaks up. Another option is the band continues on but in a totally different level of operation. We could easily go back to playing clubs that hold like a thousand people and we could do that fine and we could put out the kind of albums that we would want to put out without that kind of commercial pressure, acoustic albums, experimental albums. That’s a totally different tact. And take yourself out of the top 40 ring, which we’re in, you know. And the other possibility is that it’s a huge success and the band goes on to bigger and better things. So those are the three possibilities. I think they’re all valid and I think they’re all realistic.

ATN: You said that you’ve already decided that no matter what happens that there’s going to be a change. What’s that about?

Corgan: I think, me personally, that I’ve certainly reached the end of a creative cycle. Five, six, seven years ago, I made up my mind about how I was going to play my music, what kind of band we were going to be­­, you make those kinds of decisions. And out of those decisions have come really amazingly positive things and some negative things because of the shortsightedness of it. I think we’re one of the best live bands, but we’re the kind of live band that you have to follow the whole time. We’re not going to hit you over the head in the first five minutes and then the rest of the show is boring. It’s hard to explain but with every philosophy comes its advantages and disadvantages, and I’ve reached the end of this philosophical point, I guess.

You know, if you decided seven years ago that you were going to be a certain kind of writer and your slant was going to be this, this and that, and you build your career around it, you reach a point where those rules and those constrictions don’t necessarily apply anymore but you’re still living in the preconception of that’s what you are. So I want to destroy those preconceptions by going on to something different. Also it’s like casting yourself back out into the musical water and expecting yourself to come up with something new. Totally new. Not just the next extension of what you would expect from the band but something completely different.

ATN: So is it going to be the four of you?

Corgan: That’s the plan but I don’t know. I’m going to do it no matter what. Obviously what happens has a lot to do with it. If the band ended and I start to form a new band, then obviously that band’s not going to be as big as this band. So you’re operating on a different level. And there’s different mind-sets to go into each situation.

ATN: So you’ll just look at what happens and then you’ll make your decision.

Corgan: Right. Somewhere in the back of my head as I’m writing this record I know that I have to make videos, I know that there has to be singles. You can’t live with the illusion that it’s not going to be that way. It has to be that way. You’re living in that ring. If you take yourself out of the ring and you put yourself in the Tom Waits ring, that’s a much different ring to be in. That’s a freer ring but you also accept the consequences of those kinds of decisions. You may have more artistic success and less commercial success. That’s all part and parcel of where you put yourself. The point is, I’m just trying to be open to all the possibilities. I want the band to continue. Make no mistake about it. I really hope that everyone loves this album and the band has a great tour and go on to bigger and better things but I think you have to be realistic. Because if you cut yourself off from the other ideas, you start behaving in a way that, well, the band has to be together and the band has to do this and this and that starts to cause a lot of resentment and problems in the band because everyone feels trapped.

ATN: There’s a line in one of the songs…

Corgan: I wonder how many lines there are on this album (laughs).

ATN: …in which you sing, “Despite all my rage/ I’m still just a rat in a cage.” What was your intention in that with that line?

Corgan: I don’t really explain the specific things because I think if it’s not apparent, I’m not doing my job. To explain it further is to demystify it and to take away from the power of what it is. It’s taken me awhile to come to this conclusion but the music is it’s own interpretive force and everyone’s going to apply their own experiences to the interpretation of it. Me explaining it demystifies it, narrows the ability for people to enjoy it and then becomes the click phrase by which everyone says, “Well, okay, with that song ‘Bullet,’ you were trying to say such and such. What were you really trying to say.”

People ask you questions based on what you said and it’s a never-ending cycle, so I’ve taken myself out of the game on that one. No explanations. I’ll talk about the thematic aspects of the album but I’m putting the responsibility in the hands of the journalist to ask specific questions and then I’ll answer those themes. Like you asked about change so I’ll talk about change. But if you asked me what the themes are in the album, I’ll say…

ATN: Figure it out for yourself.

Corgan: Yeah, because there’s 20 themes on the album. There’s 30 themes on the album. But people are going to focus on one or the other. If I listed all the themes that are on the album, somebody would pick the two that were the most entertaining. This is my experience with the media and this is my own way of doing my own spin because I don’t want to deal with the boomerangs that come back.

ATN: Neil Young, for example, writes so intuitively that it almost comes through him. It’s there. He doesn’t even know while he’s writing what it’s about and later, he may see something. But it sounds to me like you work a little differently.

Corgan: No, I work both ways. I’m a very multi-brain person. I don’t know if it’s my Piscean nature but I sit in a lot of different chairs. For example, a song like “Disarm” was completely intuitive. There’s nothing conscious about that song. It, like, wrote itself. “Today” was an intuitive song. There’s other songs where I really have to spend time to make it all glue together.

ATN: Where it’s more crafting.

Corgan: Oh, “Tonight, tonight” was probably a more crafted song. You’re looking for something specific. You know what you’re trying to say but you’ve got to find the right words to say it with the right sentiments. It’s obviously a well-crafted song. That took time to put all the pieces together. Stuff like that. I move back and forth.

Smashing Pumpkins James Iha Speaks His Mind by Michael Goldberg

He’s almost nodding off. James Iha has perfected the art of relaxation. He’s lying on a couch at Pumpkinland, Smashing Pumpkins’ Chicago studio. He’s expending absolutely as little energy as humanly possible while still remaining awake. Yet despite the state of near sleep, his mind is sharp and focused. The rail-thin guitarist, like his former girlfriend, bassist D’Arcy, seemed pleased to be able to talk to the press. Following the release of Siamese Dream, Billy Corgan did most of the talking. This time out, making sure all the members’ contributions to Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness are acknowledged seems as important to Corgan as it is to the rest of the band. Although it took a little while to get Iha going, it turns out he had plenty to say.

Addicted To Noise: How do you feel about the other Chicago bands that have emerged?

James Iha: I like Urge Overkill. I think they rock. They’re nice guys.

ATN: Have you heard their new album yet?

Iha: No I haven’t. I’m sure it’s good. Yeah, they’re nice guys. I like Veruca Salt. I’m kind of friends with those guys or those girls and those guys. They’re real nice. I just have nice things to say about them, about both those bands.

ATN: Yeah, the last time I was in Chicago I interviewed them. They seem like they’re really cool.

Iha: Nina and Louise [of Veruca Salt] are energy fireballs. Nina has like 20 times more energy than I have. I think they’re both really good rock bands. They can both sing, play, they do it all. And they look good. They’re proper pop stars.

ATN: What about Liz Phair?

Iha: I like Liz Phair pretty well but it’s hard for me to hear all the songs sometimes because her approach has been so lo-fi and it sounds all very much the same to me. It’s hard for me to hear the songwriting and I don’t know if it’s her voice, but her voice kind of becomes monotone after a while to me, I can’t really hear the melodies.

ATN: There’s this whole lo-fi movement.

Iha: That’s kind of come and gone already. Lo-fi is fine. I think the whole movement is based on why go through the hassle of recording in a big studio. I think a lot of the lo-fi movement is just a rebellion against having to go into a studio, making sure the sound is nice, making sure you have the right gear, your guitars are in tune. I think that’s fine. For me, it’s hard for me to hear the songs sometimes when they’re recorded so lo-fi. It might fit certain bands or certain songs maybe. But I can’t listen to a whole record of lo-fi bullshit. Because it becomes just that. It sounds like all the same thing. There’s no dynamics in the songs. It’s not like how I want to listen to a rock band. I like classic rock, so I like the Beatles and the Stones. And they both paid a good amount of attention to the recording. There’s just a real fine line between where you want to be lo-fi and high-fi and I think you can do both.

If you’re in a studio, you don’t have to get the perfect guitar sound. You don’t have to have everything just perfect. But at the same time, you don’t want to sacrifice the song just for the sake of being cool. I like Lou Barlow’s records but after awhile, they all sound the same to me, it’s like I can’t hear them. I wish he would just go 48-track digital. It would be really cool. Another clear example: I saw Guided By Voices playing Lollapalooza and they played this awesome song called “Gold Star for Robot Boy.” Awesome jam. I thought, “this is a great song, I’m going to have to get the CD.” But the CD doesn’t sound as good as live because live you could hear the bass, you could hear the dynamic of the band and it wasn’t this 8-track cassette version where you can’t really hear the frequencies of the bass and you can’t hear the band really rock. It’s a garage tape and I wish they had recorded it high-fi so I could hear everything. Their album doesn’t sound super lo-fi but I wish it had been better sounding.

ATN: They did do some 24-track stuff for the next one.

Iha: Right, that’s what I heard.

ATN: Steve Albini produced some tracks. They recorded with him using 24-track. Then they took some of those things, put them back onto their cassette recorders and re-did the vocals to make them sound more lo-fi.

Iha: That surprises me.

ATN: Pollard was also saying that they were going back into a real studio to record. They were going to try a thing where they would release the album just the way they wanted then they’d go back into a studio and re-cut some songs high-fi for release as singles so they could get on the radio but there would still be a version of it just the way he wanted it to sound like on the album.

Iha: Maybe they do want it sound like that but I can’t listen to it. I’m used to listening to Beatles and Stones records. They sound good to me. I’m not going to pass a judgment if they want to record that way but to me, it’s always with the song. It’s always against the song if you want to do it that way sometimes.

ATN: People have talked about Smashing Pumpkins as being more rooted in ’70s rock. You’re wearing a KISS t-shirt. It may be what you guys grew up on or whatever and yet to me, when I listen to your stuff, I don’t think of ’70s bands at all. It doesn’t strike me like that. There might be something that reminds me a little bit of Led Zeppelin. But it’s become your own thing. It’s your own sound. It’s not a dated sound.

Iha: I think the thing about a lot of ’70s bands, mega bands like Led Zeppelin, all those bands, is they had a lot of power. The songs they wrote were pretty good. They weren’t exactly PC. But they had a lot of power, they knew how to record them and they knew how to get it across. I’m sure we’ve taken elements of that and brought it to the music. Making sure that what we’re playing comes across, that’s it’s not just a dump. If we have a riff, we make sure it’s a good riff, not just some stupid rip -off riff like that Lenny Kravitz song, “Rock and Roll’s Dead,” which is the ultimate Zep rip or I don’t know what it is. There’s a fine line between borrowing the sentiment or borrowing some of the ideas. If you’re gonna play a rock song, make sure it rocks. “Rock and Roll’s Dead,” that Lenny Kravitz song, it rocks but it’s a rip-off. And who wants to rock to a rip-off? We have some songs on the record that rock but they’re not rip-offs. The riffs are good and they have nothing to do with Led Zeppelin. It’s not like that.

ATN: Is that a real conscious thing? Do you say, “Hey, we don’t want to sound like something that’s come before?” Or is it more intuitive?

Iha: Well, it’s a combination of both. If you play a riff and at the end of it you go, you know what, it sounds just like this. That sounds just like a Red Hot Chili song, then you obviously go nah. It has nothing to do with the Red Hot Chili Peppers but if it sounds like something, you can’t play it. You come up with a riff and then you realize, my God, this is just like this, then you have to make a judgment call whether it’s you or whether it’s the band. It’s really hard to write a rock song with out using the clichŽs from the past. Because they’ve been done so well before, you know? Look at the Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Black Sabbath, the Rolling Stones… Every one of those bands has an imitator band in the ’90s. You’ve got the Stones, you’ve got Black Crowes.

ATN: Do you see a specific Zep imitator out there?

Iha: There are elements that bands take. Like the Stone Roses kind of took that groove on their new album. The blues hard rock kick-ass drum shaman thing. Like on “Love Spreads.” To me, there’s a fine line between something being a rip, and where it’s good, it’s using the elements. You can see the reference points but it’s not like a steal. It’s something the band has done. They’re obviously a good enough band to be able to play, use the stylization and write a good song with that power. And that song “Love Spreads” is a really good song. By no means is it a Led Zeppelin song, but you could see Led Zeppelin as a reference.

ATN: I’ve heard from people more in their late ’30s or ’40s, this thing of yeah, everything’s been done before. It’s like the rock that happens now is a variation on things done before. I don’t personally buy into that. I wondered what you thought about it.

Iha: No. I think writing a song, whatever style it’s in, it can always be re-done. It can always be re-done, it can always be original because no two people are the same. There are always new bands that still amaze me once in a while. Like Shudder to Think, I think, is a wholly original, amazing rock band. They’re a rock band but they’re totally different than what you’ve heard before in the guitar playing, the drumming, the bass, singing, it’s all amazing. If you listen to a Shudder to Think record, you might be able to point to a few references but there’s no way you could tag that band. And they’re good, they write good songs. They’re totally original.

ATN: So do you think that people who say that kind of thing, it’s really that they’re not paying attention?

Iha: Yeah. Generally speaking, it’s hard to write a new rock jam. It’s hard to be Led Zeppelin. Yeah, in a very general way, it’s true. But there are just a lot of specific small bands that are totally original. Nirvana had obvious reference points, power pop. They took so many different elements. They took elements from heavy metal, from the Melvins and the Melvins took from Black Sabbath. And they also took power pop things like the Beatles obviously and Cheap Trick. You get three different bands, the Beatles, Black Sabbath and Cheap Trick and you put that into a mix­­. I’m not saying that’s all their influences­­ and you get this amazing lyricist, amazing singer, front man, the right time and the right place and they’re just the greatest rock and roll band ever. So it’s like, fuck convention. Anybody who says that who didn’t see Nirvana in ’89 or ’90 or whatever it was, they were the best rock band on earth. It’s just a fine line between imitator and the real thing.

ATN: Do you feel like Smashing Pumpkins has been misunderstood by the media?

Iha: The main focus has been on Billy. Yeah, the music’s been misunderstood and the band’s been misunderstood but Billy caused a lot of those problems with those first slew of interviews he did. Basically the media just played to it and that was the angle on the whole last album. Yeah, I don’t think people understand the band dynamic and I don’t think people understand the music really well. You just get a dominant front person and you don’t ever hear about the band or the records. It’s like, what did people talk about Nirvana? They talked about Kurt, they talked about Courtney Love, heroin abuse and smashing guitars and punk rock. They never talked about how good the songs were, how good the lyrics were. Even on the second one. No one talked about how good the record was. So that’s the same thing. They have the front person, they did their focus on the last album, that was it.

ATN: Do you think, generally speaking, there’s something that you guys really want to communicate, whether it’s in terms of an emotional quality or…

Iha: I don’t know. Lyrics set the tone of most things for a rock band although it’s a combination of music and the lyrics. I don’t write the lyrics for most of the songs so I can’t really say or expound on the tone of the band.

ATN: But you play these songs and you record them.

Iha: The music is a lot of things. It’s powerful, it’s kind of insane sounding, it’s kind of poppy sometimes, it’s power poppy. A lot of it’s overtly dramatic, sad… I don’t know. You don’t really think about it. You just put it together and throw it out and see if anyone likes it.

ATN: If someone said, what’s Smashing Pumpkins about, what would you say? What would you tell them?

Iha: An eclectic diverse rock band. I don’t know. I really don’t know. I suppose I would use a lot of aesthetic ideas. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I really can’t think of any adjectives that would do it.

ATN: There’s a feeling that Billy is a really ambitious force. Do you think overall, all of you…

Iha: We’re all totally different people. None of us are really alike at all. I think we’re all ambitious but in different degrees and in different areas, we’re ambitious.

ATN: What holds you together?

Iha: The fact that we’re still together now and we made a record together and it’s good and everyone felt good about it was a big pivotal step. Everyone still enjoys being in the rock band, I guess. There are a lot of things that go with it. Money, traveling, the fact that we can’t really have a social life for most of the time. We spent six or seven months just doing this, six days a week. You give up to get something and at the end of it is basically, do you still enjoy playing in a rock band? I guess we’ve all agreed to it.

Smashing Pumpkin D’Arcy Dares To Be Happy by Michael Goldberg

We are at Pumpkinland, the Smashing Pumpkins’ Chicago recording studio, and we are about to begin an interview. We are Smashing Pumpkins’ bassist D’Arcy, who has a striking beauty that is as much a part of the Pumpkins as Billy Corgan’s whine, or their aggressive sound, and myself. A photo session is going on in the big studio where Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness was recorded, so we’ve holed up in a small mixing studio. D’Arcy is sitting very still on a couch. She’s wearing a brown suede jacket. Her dark brown hair is dyed blonde. She’s wearing brown corduroys and brown lace shoes. She speaks in a soft voice, and seems quite pleased that Addicted To Noise is interested in what she has to say. After the interview is over, she mentions that she and her former boyfriend, guitarist James Iha have their own indie label, Scratchie Records, and have released records by Chainsaw Killers and some “dancehall guys,” Pancho and Hitman.

Addicted To Noise: Have you done a lot of interviews so far for this record?

D’Arcy: Yeah.

TN: How many, do you think?

D’Arcy: I have no idea. We started maybe a month ago. I’m not sure. I don’t know. A lot. It’s probably best not to think about it. Because I was doing really well. I was sort of going along like every day was a new day and I could deal with it. But now it’s just beginning to wear on me, like I’m feeling the weight of those past 50 interviews or whatever it was. Is this going to end? It’s never going to end.

ATN: What’s the question you’ve had to answer the most, you think?

D’Arcy: Probably the question that they want us to answer the most that is really hard to answer….probably the worst one is, why did you choose Flood to produce this? That’s an easy one to answer. The hard one to answer is, what was it like recording this record? It was okay. It’s like you could never explain it to anyone and have them understand. They just could not understand.

ATN: Well, you spent almost a year making the record. So it’s like trying to tell someone what your life was like for a year.

D’Arcy: It’s like, do you have 10 hours if you really want to understand? You can’t understand, as much as I can’t understand what your life is like and really understand and really feel that. You couldn’t. Sometimes I feel like I’m speaking Martian to people because people misunderstand me constantly. And I think that I’m perfectly clear.

ATN: I guess it depends on if you read what people write and get into it or if you don’t pay attention to it.

D’Arcy: I don’t. I don’t have the time. I don’t have the energy. And when it comes down to it, even if they totally misunderstand everything or hate it, I just never really cared too much what other people think because I know what’s right for me and I know what my own truths are. Things work themselves out and I just live my life. How can you possibly spend your life worrying about what everybody else is thinking? You would explode.

ATN: Has that always been the case or is that something you’ve sort of come around to over time, feeling like that?

D’Arcy: I’ve been that way for a long, long time now. Probably not forever. When people misunderstand me or whatever, I’ve always been like, well, gee, I know that I’m a good person and I know that I’m meaning well so there must be something that’s wrong with them. If you don’t like me, there’s something wrong with you. I suppose I worried about it when I was younger. But that was like really younger, like 10 years old. It’s very fortunate to have an attitude like that in this business. I know Billy has a much harder time dealing with the press stuff than I do. I don’t know about James and Jimmy. I think James probably holds about the same attitude that I do. But who really knows what James is thinking?

ATN: There’s obviously a lot of women in rock bands. There’s a number of women that play bass in rock bands. But what first made you think that that was something that you would do? Was it this natural thing that happened?

D’Arcy: I always was like, I’m going to be in a band when I grow up. Always. Ever since I was probably six years old. No, that’s not true. When I was six, I was going to be a doctor. Probably since I was 10 years old.

ATN: Was it based on wanting to be in a band like one you liked? You know, I want to do that kind of thing?

D’Arcy: I’ve always been so into music. All my whole life I’ve been surrounded by music. My mother always played music when I was growing up. We always listened to the radio. My mom played instruments and myself and my sisters were always encouraged to play instruments. I played classical violin for about 9 or 10 years. And oboe [Editor's note: Aha! Meltzer is right!] and I was in choir and everything. It was just always a part of my life. I’ve done so many different things. I have done a lot. I have a lot of different interests but the only thing that’s ever been a constant in my life, that I’ve been able to stick to and not get bored with and sick of and burnt out on is music. Except for the last four years. I was pretty burnt out on it. The past four years before last year I was not very well then. But now I’m better. And I’m interested again. I still listen to classical music and Disney soundtracks and crazy bizarre stuff and classic rock but not popular…is it still alternative anymore? I think it’s pretty much popular music now.

ATN: Well yeah, what I think is a very good thing that happened is a lot of the stuff that was out there is now accepted.

D’Arcy: I thought it was good too. And I was really glad that that was happening. But now I don’t feel like that. It’s just being bastardized. It’s just getting completely ripped off and mutated and turned into Nirvana and Pearl Jam-lite. But I suppose with every style, genre of music, there’s good and bad. At least it brought a lot of the good music into the forefront. People got so upset that Nirvana got huge. I’d rather see Nirvana making shitloads of money than Michael Jackson, you know.

ATN: It was a really cool thing that “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was heard around the world. I think it’s a totally great song. To have something like that be heard…I would much rather have that happening. You could go back to the early ’80s and you could probably find a lot of indie albums that were shitty and you could probably find a lot of major releases that were shitty and then a lot of stuff that was good then and….

D’Arcy: Yeah, that’s true. But the thing is now Billy probably talked to you about all the imitators and things. It’s really hard to stomach when you get the imitators taking up this space that the real original bands should be in. It’s like you’ve got Bush who’s huge and Sonic Youth who never for some reason, quite got there. Why? And they should be. Sonic Youth should be massive. And I don’t know if they would want to be or not. Maybe that’s part of the problem. But I would way rather see the Sonic Youth getting all that attention and success than these other bands who are ripping them off. It’s kind of depressing.

ATN: Someone could say, why did Green Day sell 10 million albums and how come the Ramones have never been able to? On the other hand, obviously Green Day speak to, because of their age, because of their attitude right now, are speaking to millions of kids, you know what I mean? Ultimately, it gets down to do people want to buy the records and listen to them.

D’Arcy: A lot of the time I think a lot of imitator bands, they can take what is catchy, the catchiest thing about a certain style of music and then write a good pop song around that, a basic pop song around a certain style whereas the original music is most of the time much more complicated and I don’t think that your general public, just the masses, I don’t think they understand it. I really don’t think…they just don’t want to take the time to try to understand it. They want something that’s easy, accessible, that you instantly nod your head along to.

ATN: It’s a funny thing. I look at music as art.

D’Arcy: Me too.

ATN: That’s how I’ve always been since I was a little kid. My mom would take me to a museum, she’d show me Picasso and then I’d turn on the radio and there’s “A Day in the Life” by the Beatles.

D’Arcy: It’s the same to me. They’re the same.

ATN: But it seems like to most people, it’s entertainment.

D’Arcy: Escapism. It’s that for me too but…

ATN: It’s like taking it in a different way. It’s like looking at it in a different way or reacting to it. So what you were saying about someone takes a catchy element and turns it into this thing, it’s easy for people to relate to it whereas Sonic Youth isn’t easy to relate to. It’s really rewarding when you spend time with it.

D’Arcy: You get out of it what you put into it, listening to their music. It’s sort of like that and most people just aren’t willing to do that. You gotta have those hooks!

ATN: What do you think are some of the themes of Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness?

D’Arcy: The themes?

ATN: Yeah. Have you thought about it like that?

D’Arcy: I really try not to figure out Billy’s lyrics and things because I don’t want to know. I shouldn’t know. I know too much about his life already. You don’t even want to get into that.

ATN: Obviously, in the past, he’s been a real control freak.

D’Arcy: He’s let up a lot. But we contributed in the past. It just wasn’t acknowledged that’s all. We’ve been there the whole time. He was like, “I want to do all the interviews.” We’re like, fine, be our guest. We don’t want to do interviews. For me, I know how he feels and he can fucking go tell the whole world about it. But I know what the reality of the situation is. So whatever. Most of the time, I don’t go out of my way to do interviews anyway. Whatever.

ATN: How do you feel about the band at this point? At this point in a band’s career, there can be a lot of reasons to keep doing it. Is it still creative? Is it still the musical reasons that dominate at this point?

D’Arcy: Yeah. I think so. I don’t know. You have to ask yourself that a lot. Sometimes you just have to sit there and balance the pros and the cons. It’s been really good lately. So it’s no question at all. As long as we’re seeing the same kind of musical vision, yeah, sure. But sometimes when things get hard, you balance out the pros and cons and say, am I being a wimp if I stay or am I being a wimp if I leave?

ATN: In the wake of the success of the album Siamese Dream, what happened?

D’Arcy: In the wake of the success? In the success, things were fine. It was like before and during the recording of the album and during the writing process that things were kind of fucked up. But by the time everybody was making this whole big deal out of it, it was done and over.

ATN: So you’re saying, once the album hit the top of the charts and stuff, things were okay.

D’Arcy: No, that’s not exactly what I’m saying. The stuff had just blown over already and was done by probably around the time we were mixing the album. Before it was even released. It didn’t have anything to do with the success of the album, things getting better. Billy was having a lot of problems. Everyone was having their own, individual, personal problems and I think we weren’t mature enough not to take it out on each other.

ATN: What about the title of the album?

D’Arcy: You want to know my take on the title of the album? Billy and Jimmy always have this bad pun game, is what I call it. It’s the bad pun game getting out of control. Embarrassing. Not the name. The name’s not really embarrassing. Just the game.

ATN: By having a title that has some humor in it…using that title for this album conveys a message, which is we don’t take everything so seriously.

D’Arcy: Look at the name of the band. How can people think that we take everything so seriously when we’re called the Smashing Pumpkins.

ATN: But you know what happens over time is a name loses, it stops signifying what it originally meant.

D’Arcy: I think people never really understood what it meant in the first place. Just the name itself is so stupid and… When you can make fun of yourself. Self-deprecating. In a humorous way.

ATN: Why initially did you guys want to have that name?

D’Arcy: I didn’t. I never shared their sense of humor and they don’t understand mine. James was there at the beginning and he couldn’t stop it either.

[At this point, guitarist James Iha, who had entered the room and was sitting quietly, enters the conversation.]

James: Bob English, I think, coined it.

D’Arcy: In fact, we should pay Bob English for that name, shouldn’t we? About $7,000?

James: About $7,500.

D’Arcy: I think I should suggest that to Bob.

James: For the name alone. He never claimed his copyright on it.

D’Arcy: So he got screwed over. He’s a crazy friend of ours.

ATN: So what you’re saying is right from the beginning there was this sense of “we can laugh at ourselves.”

D’Arcy: Yes, but not very often. Only in specific areas. But yeah, it exists, it’s always been there.

ATN: Now, at this point in time, to have some humor in the title of an album is making a statement because a lot of people are waiting for the next release from Smashing Pumpkins. It’s like whatever you call this album people are going to say, what does that mean? It was like a conscious attempt, it seems to me, to put some humor in.

D’Arcy: You’d have to ask Billy, but probably yes, probably. I don’t think it was conscious in the fact of thinking like we want to show the world that we can laugh at ourselves. I think he just pretty much puts on there what he wants to put on there. And he felt that that was appropriate. So not a conscious effort in that regard.

ATN: Why do you think that heroin has become this drug that some ’90s bands have gotten into? I’m just curious. In a lot of bands out there people have died.

D’Arcy: Why do people use drugs at all though?

ATN: In the ’60s it was marijuana and acid. Then there was a point in the ’70s where it was cocaine. The disco coke thing. Then as we moved into the late ’80s and ’90s suddenly this heroin trip happened. I’m just wondering if you have any sense why that would have happened?

D’Arcy: I understand it but I don’t know if I could explain it. I don’t know. It’s just like what’s hip, what’s accessible. It’s a lot of different factors.

ATN: For a lot of kids, this is a hopeless kind of a time. People don’t see the kind of bright future that by contrast they imagined in the ’60s. It’s just not there.

D’Arcy: Well, I think also right now, there have been lately a lot of unhappy people who have been prevalent in the media. And like it or not, that sort of glamorizes it. I remember like in 1989, before it had really saturated as much of society as it has now­­it was mostly just on the west coast­­my sister’s boyfriend who was about 17 years old at the time was like, do you know Perry Farrell, what’s he really like? Does he really do heroin? Wow. Wow. He’s cool. Maybe I’d like to try that. That’s cool. I’m like, you’re stupid. I mean, I can’t judge people who do drugs. I can’t say it’s wrong or it’s right but I think it’s stupid to do it just because somebody you deem as cool does it. That’s for the wrong reasons. It’s just like fashion lately, I think. Plus the fact that not just the drug but the fact of being unhappy lately and wallowing in that despair and hopelessness of the world and your situation in general has really been glamorized lately and it’s very unhealthy.

ATN: At one point, writing songs about being unhappy, the dark side of things…it went from that being an honest expression of things to almost becoming a trend.

D’Arcy: Exactly. It’s like Kurt Cobain saying this is how I feel and I feel this way for these reasons, whatever and the kids going, oh yeah, it’s really hip to be just miserable or whatever. I recently tried to read this book. I really wished that I could remember the name of it and the girl who wrote it. I think she’s a music reviewer.

ATN: Is it Prozac Nation?

D’Arcy: Maybe. But the whole book, she made me so sick. I wanted to slap her. It was just a perfect example of what I’m talking about. It really disgusted me. And the whole time she’s writing about how she really disgusts herself because she’s wallowing for no reason, whatever and everyone should be disgusted by her. And I was disgusted by her. I just picked it up, opened it up and started reading. Part of it was where she went to England, some guy talked her into coming into England… talking about how she felt so miserable. That everyone should think that she’s disgusting so that she was really abusive to other people so that they would dislike her. It was really pathetic. I think I kind of started to fall into that for awhile, for a few years, just because I was surrounded by it. But I just got to the point where, this is stupid. This is stupid. People say, how can you be happy with the world in the situation that it’s in? Well, look at your life. How dare you not be happy when there are so many other people whose lives are totally fucked and they can do nothing about it. You’re so lucky that you’re not in the middle of Bosnia now, trapped. You’ve got a lot of nerve just sitting there, wallowing for no reason. You should really try as hard as you can to appreciate the things that you’ve got. Stop thinking about yourself for awhile. Maybe if you stopped dwelling on yourself and being so self-centered, you wouldn’t be so miserable. Try and look at some people around you and try and help them. Try and change things instead of wallowing, because it’s useless.

ATN: People get so caught up in these little things going on in their lives.

D’Arcy: It just makes me sick because those people who are so depressed like that for no reason, they would not be that way if they were not so self-absorbed, if they were not so self-centered, if they cared about anyone else besides themselves. I just know too many people like that and they make me sick. It’s like I’m so much miserable than you are. That mentality.

Listessa Interviews Billy Corgan by Karl Daher

The following interview was conducted during the recording sessions for Adore.
Winnipeg, Canada…the silent, frigid north…Suddenly, that silence is broken by the telephone. It’s a call from sunny southern California…Los Angeles to be precise…and it’s from none other than the Great Pumpkin himself, Mr. William P. Corgan! Yes, Billy has granted an exclusive interview to the Internet’s biggest Smashing Pumpkins fans…the members of Listessa!

Listessa: The Smashing Pumpkins is one of the most unique bands out there, and it is this quality that has attracted me most to your music. Do you agree that your music is unique, and what do you think makes it so?

BC: I think our music is unique in a couple of ways. First off, our attitude has always been one of a free ranging expression, without limits or self imposed generational boundaries, and i think that that shows
more as time goes by. What many fans don’t understand about our most recent musical changes is that it is all done in the same spirit we started with in 88; to fuck with peoples perceptions and to challenge our own intuitive ability to respond to awkward situations; to go where no one has gone before. That said, we also have a very keen awareness of musical history, some would say to our detriment, but i think that it is this keen sense (and healthy respect for all that is good) that has allowed us to embrace what we like; to manipulate, avoid, and ultimately destroy it; and lastly, it is the over reach and absolute dedication to these aesthetic principles; a true love of our world that has given us the strength to endure.

Listessa: What does music mean to you, and what do you feel about the connection between a band and their fans?

BC: The music is quite simply my life. It is really all i concern myself with. As far as our connection to our fans, it is one of complete compassion and respect, but not without our own criticism, mainly people refusing to accept the band as we have always put forth; a non compromising vision; that is not to say that we cannot be criticised! We have gone many wrong directions, but as i have said, so what somewhere somehow we dare, and i guess we dare you to continue to follow us and be amazed at our complete ability to dazzle and confound.

Listessa: What is most rewarding about being a musician?

BC: The creation of the songs from total scratch. When i feel that something is borne out of the ethers, it could make me cry because it is of the earth and universe; a magical moment! That also leads me to another common misconception, and that is the way the world views how we/me work. The creation of the music doesn’t end until it is fully realized/mixed and recorded, but that is where James and D’arcy and Jimmy when he was around have been fantastic; to allow me to completely pursue my vision of what i hear and feel, and provide the glue to make it real.

Listessa: You put so much time and effort and emotion into your songs, and you’ve made so many amazing feats, and you continue to do so. What keeps you going?

BC: I honestly don’t know except to tell you that it is all i know. I really now enjoy all of it; writing, playing, the competition of getting songs played, making unique videos; I like all of it and feel there aren’t enough hours in the day to do all of what i want to do.

Listessa: Since SP are such a heavily bootlegged group, are you planning to release an official live album?

BC: Yes, we hope to someday release a multiple (5+?) comprehensive set that will span the entire time (1988 to the present,) but that won’t be any time soon.

Listessa: Is ‘Vieuphoria II’ in the works? We all heard about the shows at California’s The Pond being filmed with a “million dollar camera”. Will we be seeing this for sale?

BC: We also hope to do another Vieuphoria and also release an interview/video package.

Listessa: What was the second concept for the Tonight, Tonight video (besides the one similar to the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Aeroplane” and the concept actually used)?

BC: As the band played on a surreal stage, the camera would go into people in the audiences eye and you would see that persons dream/vision of the song. One person might be on stage with us; one person might be in bed with 5 girls… blah blah blah.

Listessa: What is your take on the “Pumpkin sound”?

BC: For me, I guess it’s the two guitar interplay; the harmonic configuration and tonal stacking… but it’s a little more complicated than I can explain.

Listessa: Where do you think this generation’s music is heading as far as style goes?

BC: I think that music is headed towards a more hyper-poppy sound (ala Puffy) where people take old catchy things and combine them with new sounds and textures, hooks with sound collages. New original music is
going to disappear as less and less people have to be able to play. The great thing is technology makes it more accessible, but the net result won’t have as much depth, but may have more immediacy.

Listessa: Where do you go and what do you do to relax?

BC: (To the) piano or bedroom and write songs.

Listessa: You’ve talked about “realness” and being “real”. What is “real” to you?

BC: Everyone knows what that means to them; being true to what you want from your life. My standard of real may be higher or lower than the next person’s, but i know what my truth is.

Listessa: I have read that there is an album following “Adore” that will be a rock album. Is this a set plan, and what else can you tell us about it?

BC: Who said that? You won’t know what to call the next one, if you can ever give a name to this one.

Listessa: One of the Smashing Pumpkins shirts I have has a series of faces on it with bar codes over the foreheads. Does this shirt have any relation to the song Pennies (the faces could be pennies)? Did the band have influence into the making of the shirt, or any shirts?

BC: That is a James creation, and it has no connection to Pennies.

Listessa: Does the band have influence over items that are marketed?

BC: Yes, we make all decisions concerning our merchandise. You wouldn’t believe the crap they try to get us to sell. We are very picky, and have probably not done the best job with our stuff, but it is very time consuming. But there is also a lot of illegal stuff, like those stupid fucking books with our pictures in them, where people make money off us. We have no control over those things.

Listessa: What song off each Pumpkins album is most important to you?

BC: (From) Gish, Siva
(From) Siamese (Dream), Disarm.
(From) Mellon Collie (and The Infinite Sadness), 1979.
(From) Pisces (Iscariot), Starla.
(From) (The) Aeroplane (Flies High Boxset), Last Song.

Listessa: Have you always wanted to be a musician? If not, what other options did you consider?

BC: When I was younger i wanted to be a baseball player. I also considered being a history major.

Listessa: Was there any moment in time where you remember jumping backwards in disbelief from all the success?

BC: Many, many times, but I have never felt it was undeserved. The hard work for me has always equaled the success.

Listessa: Here are some questions that Listessa members have been asking on the list in the past year. Why did you use the name “Porcelina” for the song, “Porcelina of the Vast Oceans”?

BC: Just made it up!

Listessa: What are the words being said in the background of the song, “Bodies” from 1:57 to 2:14?

BC: A bunch of words that start with dis-….disarm/disconnect/distroy

Listessa: How are you in general? How is Jesse?

BC: I am very happy and excited about the new album. I know everyone is going to be very surprised. I did an interview recently where the interviewer described the album as “totally different”. My brother is good.

Listessa: How are D’arcy and James doing?

BC: They are fine as well.

Listessa: One sec, I need a sip of tea here. Are you a coffee or tea drinker?

BC: Tea… chamomile.

Listessa: Okay, back to the interview. Will the new album be coming out on vinyl as well?

BC: Yes, in mono.

Listessa: Do you think you may release another collection of b-sides as you did for “Pisces Iscariot”?

BC: Not while the band is together. (We’re) tired of b-sides.

Listessa: Who are your favorite authors? Poets?

BC: William Burroughs and Phillip K. Dick.

Listessa: Will there be a tour for the new album? How big will it be? Where will you go?

BC: A short tour (with) no more than 3 or 4 months. Hopefully, all the major cities of the world.

Listessa: Here is another frequent Listessa question. Will the Siamese Dream 7″ vinyl boxset be re-released on CD?

BC: Possibly.

Listessa: Currently, what band or group of musicians are your favourites to listen to?

BC: Radiohead and Spiritualized.

Listessa: Will there every be a biography on The Smashing Pumpkins?

BC: Not by us i don’t think.

Listessa: Have you ever thought about writing a book?

BC: (I) started one, but got distracted.

Listessa: Okay, back to some short questions that list members have been curious about. Were you ever a “nerd” in school?

BC: No.

Listessa: Does Marilyn Manson have an influence on your new songs?

BC: As a friend.

Listessa: Will you be creating an unplugged album or performing on MTV unplugged?

BC: Possibly.

Listessa: Have you ever seen the Siamese Dream laser show?

BC: No.

Listessa: Is Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness a concept album based on religion or the human condition?

BC: The human condition of mortal sorrow.

Listessa: Will you be playing most of the music yourself on the new album?

BC: My dog handled most of the parts.

Listessa: I deserved that. Will there ever be a compilation of rare SP songs released on CD?

BC: Possibly.

Listessa: What label will the Pumpkins be on after the Virgin contract expires? Will you start your own label?

BC: I plan on starting my own in the right situation.

Listessa: Do you think the Collective Soul song “Smashing Young Man” is about you?

BC: I heard it is from someone who would know. That guy is very talented but a shameless rip off artist. He ought to get his own sound and video style!

Listessa: Is there a video for Muzzle?

BC: No.

Listessa: Have you every considering becoming an actor?

BC: No.

Listessa: Okay, now I have some very general questions about yourself. Which is your favourite sport: Hockey, Basketball, or something else?

BC: Basketball.

Listessa: As a kid, did you watch Looney Tunes? Tom & Jerry?

BC: 3 Stooges and Johnny Sokko.

Listessa: Will you be making an appearance on an upcoming X-Files episode? Another Simpsons episode?

BC: No.

Listessa: How often to you get to watch TV? What do you watch?

BC: Sports is all i watch, and 3 Stooges.

Listessa: Were you tall as a young child?

BC: Very!

Listessa: Back to questions about the band…Do you have plans to use a drum machine on future albums?

BC: Who wants to know?

Listessa: What are your feelings on bootlegs? Do they bother you?

BC: As long as it is for fans, I don’t really care.

Listessa: What do you think of James’ new album?

BC: I’m very proud of James work on the album. I think he surprised everyone.

Listessa: Are you able to let insults to your character by the media slide off you? What irks you about them?

BC: I’ve learned to take praise and criticism with an equal grain of salt. What irks me most about the criticism is they can’t really cut down the music so they become personal. If fans were more assertive, I think the magazines would think twice before being so callous…but we live in a negative world, so the magazines only feed into that.

Listessa: How comfortable do you feel with the rate of technological advances? Are you comfortable on the Internet?

BC: Technological advances? It’s all the same. We are looking for the next big thing. The Internet; I like the info access, but despise the kings and queens who hide behind words and taunts….digital cowards.

Listessa: I’m going to go back to some questions I’ve received from Listessa members. Did you enjoy being on Regis and Cathy Lee? Other TV shows?

BC: I enjoy doing anything that is outside the ordinary.

Listessa: Did you plan the “dancers” as you performed “1979″ on the Grammy Awards?

BC: That was my idea to not make the whole thing so “serious”, and it worked!

Listessa: What’s up with Rasputin on the 33 album? Is it a Boney M. reference?

BC: (It’s a) Russian influence.

Listessa: Are the Pumpkins set to split up any time soon? Do you see yourselves lasting as long as the Rolling Stones?

BC: With us it is always album by album…

Listessa: What’s up with the SP fanclub? Is it still active?

BC: What fanclub? There never was one….that was Virgin’s fault…we just had this p.o. box….next thing we were supposed to have a fanclub.

Listessa: Where you trained on any instruments as a child?

BC: No.

Listessa: Why do you use the word “June” so much?

BC: (It) rhymes with spoon.

Listessa: What comments do you have about the songs you wrote for the “Ransom” soundtrack?

BC: Experimental. (I) wish I’d had more time and control over the music placement in the movie.

Listessa: Do you know why James is so tired? Perhaps he needs more exercise or iron?

BC: James is 800 years old.

Listessa: Are you planning on coming back to Canada any time soon? How about another world tour?

BC: Yes.

Listessa: What is the answer to the meaning of life?

BC: 42.

Listessa: Do you have any more plans for the Starchildren?

BC: Yes. We are going to go nowhere.

Listessa: Where are the Gish lyrics?

BC: In a barn in Oxnard, CA.

Listessa: Will the 1989 demos ever be released?

BC: Probably.

Listessa: What is the inspiration behind the new album, Adore?

BC: Love.

Listessa: The End is the Beginning is the End…of the Pumpkins? What is the meaning behind the song?

BC: See, that’s a big joke, and none of you got it. Everyone is too serious.

Listessa: Is the future of the Pumpkins Techno? Acoustic? Rawk?

BC: None of the above.

Listessa: Here are a two questions about Listessa. What do you think of the Listessa tribute book? The Listessa shirt?

BC: Very flattered.

Listessa: Have you ever heard the Listessa tribute tape?

BC: No.

Listessa: I’d play it for you, but it’s in my car right now. What kind of car do you own?

BC: A jalopy.

Listessa: Okay, back to some serious questions again. Thinking back to 1991 (the Gish era), how can you compare your life as a band then to your life as a band now? What kind of progression/regression has occurred?

BC: We were much more of a band day to day. We rehearsed more, but also had a more normal life.

Listessa: What sort of atmosphere do you find most inspiring for your song writing? Does it depend on the mood of the song?

BC: Quiet…and no (it doesn’t matter on the mood of the song.)

Listessa: Do you command the lyrics to get themselves on paper or do you wait for them to come to you?

BC: Both i suppose. i spend as much time these days on lyrics as music, but on this album everything was done very quickly.

Listessa: Do you get overwhelmed by the amount of people who follow you and to what extent they “study” you? Are you used to this behaviour yet?

BC: You should ask them!

Listessa: What kind of musical direction do you think the Smashing Pumpkins will be taking with upcoming albums? Are you investigating computer generated sounds? Are you moving towards acoustic sounds?

BC: Unconventional sonic textures with non-sequitur detours.

Listessa: What’s up with a replacement for Jimmy? Will Jimmy ever be back? How about that guy you promised on Vieuphoria to include in the band? Did he ever get asked???

BC: Jimmy is no longer in the band, but his presence is with us everyday.

Listessa: How accurate is Vieuphoria to the life of the Pumpkins?

BC: Back then, close. Now, not even.

Listessa: Let me grab a few more questions from the mailing list. Where did you get the heart from on the back of Gish? Did it come from Ste. Anne de Beaupre, Quebec, Canada?

BC: A woman in Florida gave it to me when i was 19.

Listessa: What was the inspiration for “French Movie Theme”?

BC: French porn.

Listessa: What’s up with “2007″ on the Pisces Iscariot? Who is the “Pisces Iscariot” that is being referred to in the title?

BC: 2007? Not my deal…Virgin….Pisces….duh!

Listessa: Was Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness influenced by the writing of Elie Wiesel?

BC: (I) never even heard of him nor read any of his work. (I) was deeply insulted by the accusation of lyrical plagiarism. Anyone who knows me knows i would never be that lame. A guitar riff, maybe, but not words. There are only 12 notes, but a million words.

Listessa: What do you want for your birthday?

BC: Nothing.

Listessa: Is Flood working on Adore?

BC: Very diligently.

Listessa: Are you currently writing “happier” music than MCIS era songs?

BC: Fuck that happy concept. I write songs that reflect my surroundings and experiences. There is no happy or sad when it comes to music.

Listessa: Four albums over the next five years? True or false?

BC: True.

Listessa: Are there any cover tunes in the Pumpkins near future?

BC: Yes.

Listessa: My final question for you. After all of this time, how is it that you can still write meaningful songs?

BC: Because i have a heart.

Listessa: Any final words for Listessa members?

BC: I have read many discouraging things in regard to the lack of a future that my band has, or how we shouldn’t change, or we used to be better. For those that live in the past, well you always have your c.d.’s there
to keep you warm, or hopefully you saw a memorable show with the original lineup that you can dream back to. I know that i get sentimental sometimes for old days and times, but those days have passed. The band is not 20 anymore. We have seen a lot. We have been through a lot, and we can only pass our experiences through our music in a way that is in harmony with the people we are today, not yesterday. We wish everyone could be happy and satisfied but alas, it is not human nature. We never set out to be anything but ourselves. I would hope that our success could be viewed with pride and satisfaction, not as a sign that something has been ruined. For those of you that have been there from the start, well to you I can offer only gratitude. For those of you that have found us along the way, try to connect the dots and see everything in context.

I would like to add that I’m very proud of this new album, I believe it is something to believe in. It has many layers, some which may not seem to be there on the first 3 or 4 listens, but this album has a sneaking power, and that is what i love about it. We could do all the the things that people seem to like now, but remember that we did them then when those things were not so popular…guitar solos in 1989??? I would hope that all the true fans can extend to us a chance and positivity. We wouldn’t have come this far without you, and we acknowledge your support graciously, but no one owns us but ourselves. If you feel betrayed, then that is what you feel. If you feel that something has been lost, then that is what you feel. Remember that it is you too who are changing, and that us changing may remind you of a change or of a future that you might not want. All good things come to an end, so let us begin again fresh…have faith….it might do us all some good. I hope you like the new album….love billy

Source: spfc.org

 
There’s no doubt that Smashing Pumpkins and Zwan founder Billy Corgan will be inducted into the Alternative-Rock Hall Of Fame in his first year of eligibility. But Corgan isn’t interested in reliving the past—at least, not his own. His recent solo debut, TheFutureEmbrace, contains references to the ’60s, ’70s, and especially the ’80s, but he’s gone out of his way to avoid the decade in which he helped define alt-rock. The 12-song set is equally restrained, reactionary, and retro—it’s easy to pick up references to Corgan influences like New Order, David Bowie, and Robert Smith (who appears on the Bee Gees cover “To Love Somebody”)—but it’s just as easy to accept TheFutureEmbrace as a well-crafted entry in a long line of engaging, melodically pleasing Corgan albums.

In addition to his sonic surprises, Corgan has been shocking fans and rubberneckers alike with the vitriol he’s aimed at his former Zwan bandmates in recent interviews, as well as his highly personal online-journal entries, including a post that blamed the Pumpkins’ breakup on band member James Iha. Chicagoans were also probably a bit surprised in 2004 when Corgan became WXRT-FM’s “Cubs Correspondent,” though anyone who caught him screaming “Let’s get some runs!” during game seven of the 2003 NLCS knew how much he cared about the team. Corgan threw another curveball with 2004′s bestselling poetry collection Blinking With Fists, but he saved his biggest bombshell for last week: A full-page ad in The Chicago Tribune announced that Corgan has “made plans to renew and revive The Smashing Pumpkins. I want my band back, and my songs, and my dreams.”

Corgan—whose entire Pumpkins output, including 114 non-album tracks, was made available digitally in April—is currently in the middle of a world tour behind TheFutureEmbrace. During an off day in Cologne, Germany—nine days before the Pumpkins revelation—The A.V. Club caught up with him to discuss his musical past and future, how he honors his influences, and how alternative rock tried to change the world.

With the exception of the time he was kicked out of Smashing Pumpkins, Jimmy Chamberlin has always been your drummer. Is there a reason why he’s not playing with you now?

Billy Corgan: The way we look at it is, me and him together, it’s Pumpkins. We were the bulk of all the recording for the Pumpkins, except for Adore, and even trying to be in Zwan, it became almost like a farce, where other band members would be saying, “That sounds like the Pumpkins.” And we’d be like “No shit.” We were spending energy trying not to sound like we sound. So we’ve kind of just come to the conclusion, if we’re going to work together, it’s Pumpkins. Because that’s the sound. When you hear us play together, that’s the sound.

You’ve had some pretty tumultuous relationships with other band members in the past. Do you think you’ll ever be in a band again?

BC: It’s pretty simple for me—if I’m ever going to be in a band concept again, it would be Pumpkins. As far as running the show: People can imagine what it’s like, me running things. It’s nowhere near as crazy as people would picture. But that being said, I pretty much always run the show anyway, so it’s not tremendously different. Ultimately, running a band is about the relationships you have with people. Most of my arguments with musicians through the years have had more to do with their attitude about music, or their attitude about their own lives, or their personal responsibility. Music has never really been the big centerpiece of the fight.

But now that you’re working under your own name, you have the freedom to record and perform with whomever you want.

BC: Yeah, that’s what’s somewhat frustrating about being in a band. If you have a different vision, you kind of—at one point, I had gone to James Iha and said, “You know, there’s just so much guitar work going on. What do you think about bringing out another guitar player on the road, not to be in the band, just to add to some of the guitar-playing?” And he was like, “No way.” So we spent a lot of time, just me and him, trying to figure out how to carry the load of like 50 guitar overdubs between the two of us. So yeah, you get into the politics of, like, if somebody can’t do something, or there’s something you want to do, what are you supposed to do? I tried to stay pretty faithful to that when I was in the Pumpkins, and that was frustrating at times.

Now that you’ve had time to look back on Smashing Pumpkins and Zwan, do you see any recurring themes behind the breakups? Do you blame yourself at all?

BC: If you can sort of sit and look evenly at both the Zwan experience and the Pumpkins experience, when the relationships in Zwan started to break down for the right reasons—because people were lying and there were drugs involved and there were total falsehoods presented—I got out. In the Pumpkins, when I reached that crossroads, I just covered it up. I think if you can see both situations evenly, I was dealing in both cases with extremely dysfunctional people, but the difference in the situations is that in the second case, I chose not to deal with it; in the first case, by choosing to deal with it, I created a whole other host of problems. For example, if you’ve read any of my online biography stuff, we at different times tried to deal with Jimmy’s drug issues in different ways. At certain points we put our foot down and we said, “You gotta get help, or you’re going to get fired.” At other points, we just looked the other way, because we were in the middle of a tour, and it was just like, “Let’s just get to the next city and to the next show.” When those problems reared their head in Zwan, I said, “I’m outta here.” Since this article is about me, if you wanted to draw anything from me about it, it’s that I put myself in situations with people who are highly talented but highly dysfunctional, and I think that says something about me. But at the end of the day, I’ve been the rocket fuel. It’s been my songs, it’s been my pushing. At times I pushed for good reasons, and at times I pushed for bad reasons. But I still felt no matter what the situation, at least my focus was music. I produced the music. And you can look at anybody else that I’ve worked with, and there’s just not that consistency there, you know?

As for the people you’ve been working with recently, have you consciously steered clear of the things that caused problems with others in the past?

BC: Everybody I’m working with now is a friend. And I would be very, very remiss to work with anybody in the future who has not shown me who they really are. Like in Zwan, I took people’s words for people’s characters, and that really burned me bad. At least with James and D’arcy [Wretzky] and Jimmy, despite whatever their issues were—and mine included—we got to know each other in a van and we got to know who we were over time, long before the band ever blew up and got big. So at least I knew who they were, and I knew what their boundaries were, or lack of boundaries were. But with Zwan, it was like, “Hello!” Jack-in-the-box shit. “Hi, I am a junkie.” “Oh really? Didn’t know.”

It sounds like you could see yourself going back with the Pumpkins.

BC: No, I think the relationships with James and D’arcy are pretty poor. I haven’t spoken to D’arcy in over six years. And James, I don’t think I’ve spoken to him in almost four. So I wouldn’t be counting them in on the reunion tour anytime soon.

How did you approach the writing and production of TheFutureEmbrace, compared to your previous records?

BC: The same. I think long and hard about what it is I’m actually trying to do, and then I kind of have to narrow my focus into that. If I don’t, I’m too all over the place. So in this one, it was pretty simple—it was like, “I’m not going to do alternative guitar rock because I’ve been there. If I do that, it sounds like Smashing Pumpkins, and I don’t feel strongly about that particular way of doing business right now.” So it was like, “I want to force myself out of my comfort zone into new territory, and I just have to deal.”

TheFutureEmbrace has a very strong electronic element, which you explored with the Pumpkins to a lesser extent. What attracts you to electronic sounds?

BC: It’s just like colors. I like this sound of the color, or the color of the sound—I like the feelings that they evoke. The fact that it gets political, that doesn’t interest me, but in terms of a sonic painting, I really like the choices.

What do you mean by “political”?

BC: Well, I’m known as a guitar-rock guy, you know? You’re not supposed to play with synthesizers. This is not in the rulebook. And if you are, you’re supposed to kind of stay simple.

When Adore came out, didn’t you say something about the guitar dying?

BC: No, what I was trying to say—and maybe I said it poorly at the time—is that the notion of using the guitar as a dangerous, evocative statement was sort of running out of gas, that it was becoming a stock, parcel, go-to move. When we were playing loud in 1989, and the Sub Pop bands and stuff, that was shocking. There was a shocking quality to young, alternative people with funny haircuts playing as loud as any heavy-metal band, you know? It was shocking to see Nirvana play, because it was like, “Here’s this little guy with a monster-guitar sound.” And it was heavier than Black Sabbath. That was shocking.

And around the mid-’90s, it stopped being shocking, as every hair guy who would have been in a hair-metal band got his tattoos and suddenly decided he was alternative. It just became like a thing. So what I was saying was, it’s becoming a thing, and from the alternative world, the alternative mindset, if you want to move forward, you’re gonna have to figure out a way to move beyond this thing. And you know, you’ve seen some people do it with post-rock—the devotees of Neu!, the Tortoise kind of crews, and stuff like that—doing their kind of stripped-down thing. Now you see kids coming back around shoegazing stuff—My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive and all that. You slowly see people finding the guitar in a new way that’s not like Limp Bizkit seventh generation down, and I just draw that distinction because, unfortunately, the media doesn’t anymore. “Alternative” is like any band with tattoos, and the bad hair, and the sound is alternative. It’s no longer defined by who is actually on the cutting edge of alternative, so this is the problem that I have.

How did Bjorn Thorsrud and Bon Harris’ production work influence the sound of TheFutureEmbrace?

BC: We kind of fell into basic roles—Bjorn’s job was to figure out how to sonically represent what I was looking for, and him and Bon worked very closely to do that. Bon’s job was to handle the electronic-manipulating part of things, and also to kind of contribute—he’s been studying classical scoring for, like, the last four years, and so we worked this different way where he would take pieces and sort of adapt them, and then give them back to me, and we’d work from that point of view. So he did the electronics and sort of the re-adaptation of the pieces, and then my job was to be the front-end guy and the back-end guy. I generate the material, kind of leave it to them to muck around with, and go off and write some more. Then they’d present me something halfway down the line, I’d make some suggestions, and then we’d go from there. We’d either kill it, or we’d readapt it, or—it was a bit clinical, but it was pretty effective.

By leaving alternative guitar rock off TheFutureEmbrace, you avoided a genre that you more or less defined in the ’90s. Do you want to avoid that period for now?

BC: Oh, no, I’m very proud of not only what we did, but what a lot of the bands of my peerage did. I’m really proud of the work of Alice In Chains and Soundgarden and Nirvana and Hole, and even Nine Inch Nails. I’m very proud of that generation. I’m still critical of how people are kind of continuing on, and I still think we have a lot to offer, so I’m looking forward, hopefully, to different people stepping up and getting it done. But I’m very proud, very glad to be associated with that time. I think it was a special time.

The Pumpkins headlined Lollapalooza in 1994, which was one of the last times that alt-rock still felt important, powerful, and promising. Was that summer a daunting time for you?

BC: Yes, totally overwhelming. Particularly, Lollapalooza was very difficult for me, because I was sort of still on the idealism that the world was going to change, however naïve that was. And playing in front of 42 crowds on that tour and realizing that the mainstream was just going to pervert this thing for what they wanted it for. It was a temporary flirtation. I think it was similar for the people of the ’60s—I don’t think ’90s music was as significant as ’60s music in terms of changing the world, but it was significant, and I think it was similarly disillusioning when you realize the mainstream just views it as like a curiosity. They’re not really getting it. They’re there with their khakis and their beer, and they want to hear the hit—that’s really not about changing things. That was very hard for me to see, and I think I dealt with that period of my life pretty poorly, because it pissed me off. I thought, “Wow, here’s a great chance, and it’s just the same shit.” And it’s proven pretty much to be true. Alternative music has been co-opted by the mainstream; it’s now used in commercials, and everybody’s got their cuddly, cute, funny looks. It’s what the mainstream does—they absorb things and they blunt the power of it. And so the next generation and the next generation has to become more shocking and more provocative in order to get any rise out of anybody.

How do you feel about all the Pumpkins imitators?

BC: The musical part of it doesn’t bother me. What bothers me more is the social and cultural part of it. What bothers me is when music becomes entertainment. Of course, music is supposed to be entertaining, but go back to any period of time—music had a cultural significance on different levels, whether it was folk music, it was the news of the village, or it had to do with the rites of passage. Music is supposed to be interwoven into the fabric of society; it is not supposed to be a plaything that is there to serve the population’s titillation of the moment. And when, particularly, alternative music—which is supposed to be the standard-bearer of where white rock is headed—becomes either too cute or too manufactured, that’s just really not good. And there seems to be almost kind of a blasé, “Well, that’s just the way that it is now.” It’s like a shrugging of the shoulders: “Well, we used to believe in Sonic Youth and all that promise, but, well, gee, it’s not going to happen.” I don’t buy that. Whether it’s the social activism of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, or Jimi Hendrix’s race-bending blues, or whatever, that’s what it’s there for: it’s supposed to be entertaining and challenging, and when it just becomes entertaining, it’s like, “Whoa, that’s scary.” Because music saved my life, you know, and I’ve had many people tell me that my music and other bands have saved their lives, and when it loses that social import, when it stops being this important thing and it just literally becomes about box-office returns, that’s fucked-up. I’m not comfortable with that. And it was that summer of ’94 that it hit me—it was like, “Fuck, this is not going to work.”

When you say that you felt that the alternative nation was going to change the world, what exactly did that mean to you?

BC: I think that the hope is that when you present people with things from the heart and from the soul, they make better choices: They make better choices about their bodies, they make better choices about their partners, they make better choices about the environment. It should have a tumbling-down effect. And here we are: If Nirvana’s “Teen Spirit” was the moment of epiphany for mass culture about alternative rock, and 14 years later we’re looking at a completely right-wing society, that didn’t really fulfill that promise. I do feel in hindsight that we did change the world—ultimately, maybe we changed more the other parts of the world, and America just kind of absorbed us into their dumb story. But I see the effects of what we did in Europe, and it’s changing the way people are making music in India and China, and so it has a touchstone there. But America seems to take everything pure and turn it into some sort of fucked-up simulacrum.

Is that why you’ve decided not to play any old songs?

BC: The reason I don’t play any of the old songs is because I really honor my old band, and I think that those songs are best served within the context of that band. That doesn’t mean I’ll never play those songs again, and it doesn’t mean I have to have four Pumpkins onstage—the last two albums of the Pumpkins, we only had three Pumpkins onstage at any given time, except for one brief period. This is me resisting other people’s definition of what my music, my life in music, and my songs, should be.

There comes a point where being overly identified with [a certain period of time] becomes a noose around your neck, and people don’t want you to grow up, they don’t want you to change, they don’t want you to evolve. But how do they think I became that guy in the first place? I evolved out of—I mean, I was playing heavy metal when I was 18. I had to evolve out of that into an alternative consciousness about what it meant to change the way I played guitar, and the kind of songs, and the subject matter, and singing about child abuse, and all this stuff. I had to come from somewhere, and I had to take chances to do that. So it’s very hard for someone to tell me, “Hey, stop, don’t move forward.” Moving forward is how I got somewhere, and it’s how I’m going to get to the next destination. At the end of the day, it might just be a big circle—I might just be going through all this stuff to come back around and go, “You know what? I just want to play my thing.” I have not played my style of rock literally since 1997. So I’ve spent the last eight years down in a diamond mine trying to figure out a different way to do this. And I think I’ve finally figured it out. And it doesn’t mean that what I’m doing on TheFutureEmbrace is the thing, is the blueprint, but it sort of shows me different ways to see sunshine.

So in terms of the live-concert experience, if I’m not willing to fully walk out on that pier and be totally in the moment of what I’m doing now, it becomes about service, it becomes about being servile to something that’s not even of my own creation. I mean, yeah, I created it, but it’s the other people’s impression of what that should be. Let’s say I wanted to get up onstage tomorrow and play Smashing Pumpkins songs, but I wanted to play three obscure songs that no one had ever heard ’cause they were on B-sides. Everyone would be yelling at me that I wasn’t playing “those songs,” so you just draw a hard line in the sand and you say, “No. Not now.” And you deal with it. You deal with it in terms of you don’t sell as many tickets maybe in this particular place, maybe you don’t sell as many T-shirts, maybe some fan leaves the concert and says, “Fuck you, I’m never listening again.” That’s the chance I’m willing to take, because I believe that when I get to where I want to be, it’ll be strong enough that they’ll come back around. That’s how I made those records in the first place—taking that chance. So just because I’m 38, and just because everybody’s out doing their reunion tours and all, and it’s got a formula—I’m not that guy. They asked me on MTV, “What about a Pumpkins reunion?” And I said it pretty simple: “If you ever see it, it ain’t gonna be like what you think it’s gonna be. It ain’t gonna be those lighters in the air and everybody la-la-la-ing along.” I was in a dangerous band, and I liked being in a dangerous band, and I never thought I wouldn’t be in that dangerous band. So if I ever go back to it, it’s gonna be dangerous. It’s not going to be gingerbread cookies and milk.

You admit that TheFutureEmbrace was influenced by everyone from David Bowie to Echo & The Bunnymen to Joy Division. As an established artist, is it easier to talk about your influences and incorporate them into what you’re doing now?

BC: Yeah. And I think it’s important—I really think it’s a white, bourgeois idea to pretend that you don’t have influences. It seems to be the obsession strictly of white people in college. Like, “You know, I just rolled out of bed and I had this idea.” It’s wonderful to read interviews by old blues guys—they talk about all their influences, they talk about who taught them how to play, and who they saw, and how they were determined to play that way. Why is it this weird white problem that we must pretend we are the genius? I really feel like I’m standing on the shoulders of some pretty big giants, and I’m really happy that I’m at that point in my life where I’m totally willing to cop to whatever. Because it is homage, because I do know how to make my own sound, so if I choose to sort of tip my cap to somebody else, that’s because it’s choice, it’s not because I don’t have a choice.

“Mina Loy (M.O.H.)” was inspired by your fear about a dirty bomb hitting Chicago. Do you think about that kind of thing a lot?

BC: All the time. I was in New York on 9/11—I was 10 blocks away, so I heard that plane going over. I was up in my living room reading a self-help book, and until you’ve heard a 747—or whatever it was, a 767—go over your head… I mean, it was right over the building, ’cause it was so low. And to have been there and heard that sound, know that those people were in there, and heard the plane crash, and seen the damage, and seeing people screaming in the streets covered in ash, to have witnessed that personally, I don’t think that ever leaves you. And my experience was tangential—I wasn’t standing there. I didn’t lose anybody.

It makes me crazy to think that somebody might attack my city or any other city. It used to be like, “Well, they’d have to get in a plane or they’d have to launch a missile, and if they launched a missile, we’d blow them up and the whole world would blow up.” This idea that there’s some jerk-off sneaking around with a dirty bomb somewhere freaks me out. Because I know how stupid people can be. I’ve played in front of 5,000 people that bought a ticket to my concert, and some guy who’s bought a ticket decides he’s going to throw a bottle at my head. That’s a simple act of stupidity. That’s not even defiance. And when you think of how many whackos there are out in the world, it’s frightening to me that we may end up in these really unbelievable situations that I think we can’t even mentally reconcile.

As you’re getting older and playing a young man’s game, how do you avoid losing your edge?

BC: That’s a good question, and I’m not avoiding it, but I would say it’s this simple: Change the game. The game as it’s billed, as it’s commonly understood, is a young man’s game for a reason: because that’s the age that people are exploited, exploitable, and they’re easily manipulated. The problem with me is, you can’t manipulate me anymore. I’ve seen it, I know it, I’ve been there. And that’s partially why, particularly in America, you see issues with artists as they get older. And they like to keep it a young man’s game. Because that’s how they can fudge around with the rules. So my thing now is, I’m gonna change the game, and I am changing the game. It may not be obvious at this point, and it may be more obvious in a couple years, but I’m gonna change this game.

Source: A.V. Club

• See full article scan (2MB .pdf file)

hUH Magazine, December 1995, ORANGE CRUSH by John Bitzer

To rock or not to rock? Smashing Pumpkins pretty much stick with the former for now, but, as John Bitzer discovers upon visiting the band’s Chicago digs the future of their art remains a little hazy.

There is a decided difference between the perspective of Billy Corgan and that of the other three members of Smashing Pumpkins. Whereas Corgan-the Pumpkins’ mastermind, self-described “tyrant,” and control freak-speaks articulately and seriously about the band’s new album, their future direction, his own troubled past, and his present creative state of mind, guitarist James Iha, bassist D’Arcy, and drummer Jimmy Chamberlin contribute mostly just wisecracks. And even those are without sincere jocularity-more like a strained response to fulfilling their album promotional roles.

This dividing line should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with the Pumpkins’ modus operandi. Most of the press in the past focused on their “functional dysfunctionality” after it was publicly revealed that Corgan had played most of the instruments on Siamese Dream, and that the band members spoke very little (if at all) to each other. Rolling Stone went so far as to call in Dr. Joyce Brothers to psychoanalyze their strange internal relationship in print.

So now, sitting at the kitchen table of Pumpkinland – the Chicago warehouse studio where the band rehearses, records, and meets for any conceivable purpose-The Other Three appear to wish to present a collective face of chumminess and solidarity. But it’s transparent. Iha, for instance, is darkly cynical (although the fact that he is nursing a cold is a (contributing factor), D’Arcy plays the friendly hostess, smoothing over any unplesantries and valiantly attempting to clarify Iha’s more confounding points (the two still talk over each other’s sentences, like the exes they are), and Chamberlin says whatever the hell he feels like.

And when it comes to discussing Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, the Pumpkins’ new double-disc, 130 minute monstrosity that seems to contain every imaginable sound, genre, emotion, dynamic, and instrument, their jokes are uneasily cold. “I think the first disc is more like a standard Pumpkins record, more what people would expect,” says Iha, before waxing deadpan. “It’s got the rock jams, it’s got the ballads, it’s got your overbloated production. Then the second disc goes off the deep end, becomes even more bloated and becomes unrecognizable, so that when you actually pull it out of the drink it just looks like some sort of cattle mutilation.”

Everyone snickers. But bovine slaughter aside, overbloated unrecognizability is not necessarily incompatible with great art, although it does present a challenge to the casual listener, as Corgan later maintains while relaxing serenely on one of those comfy couches that sinks a little too low. “Certainly the first disc is a concession to make sure people’ll even think about listening to the second one.” he says. “We wanted to make sure people thought, ‘This fucking rocks – I want to hear what this other one sounds like.’ And then you cross your fingers and hope they’ll go there with you.”

The Pumpkins have issued this challenge before. While headlining last year’s Lollapalooza your, they purposely dared the audience to endure their entire idiosyncratic set. Their dilemma was unique: here was the rare band who had achieved massive success by creating very personal, rebellious, innovative pop art; commerce just happened to come to them. So how to embrace the big festival stadium tour? Give in to formula rock cliches to please the masses in the trenches or continue to rebel?

We took the high road and it caused a lot of problems,” Corgan relates, “because the youth of Lollapalooza didn’t want real rock & roll.”

Iha agrees, characteristically: “If I went, I would want to hear Steve Miller and Hootie-good time music…play frisbee, drink beer, watch the bands, and rock out. It’s like going to see like Aerosmith in the 70′s with, say, Mahogany Rush. That’s a good time. I’m sure we just bludgeoned the audience with our art rock. We apologize.”

“Overall, the audiences were like, ‘What the fuck is this?’” Corgan clarifies. “I’m sure there are people in certain cities that still hate us. But we are what we are. When you’re in a negative situation, you can curl up in a ball and die, you can stand there with a blank look on your face and play your songs with absolutely no passion, or you can attempt to do something about it. In certain situations it worked and in others it didn’t. But at least I can go to my grave knowing that when I finally got the big corporate rock tour, I didn’t lay down and die like a pussy,like most everybody else did.”

Their approach, for those who missed it, was simply to play an honest set, regardless of preparation, circumstance, or audience mood.

“It was damn honest,” insists Corgan. “And so what if we don’t sell as many records? Who the fuck cares? That’s all anybody can think about. God bless Nick Cave for making me realize what it’s all about. Go watch Nick Cave play for 10,000 empty seats and watch him play with all the power and fury that one man can fucking muster, and then get up onstage and pretend for people. I couldn’t. Just couldn’t.

“Lollapalooza certainly soured me on big shows.” he continues. “I want to make sure when we go back out and do big shows in the future that I can help redefine expectations. Obviously, you are dealing with people who saw you on MTV and liked a couple of your songs and then bought your CD. I mean, how are they going to understand the ten-minute space jam? How do you bridge the gap? Are you doing it for them, are you doing it for the person who’s liked every fucking song, are you doing it for you, or are you trying to strike a balance between everybody?

“You can’t help but notice that there’s a person in the front row singing every song and a guy ten rows back who is looking at his watch because he’s thinking, ‘I’ve gotta go work tomorrow. And gee, I don’t really know this song…’

“One of the best things I heard was…part of the whole Pumpkins’ thing is we would play all our ‘known’ songs in the first five songs, full well knowing people are inclined to leave. So it’s like we hit you with the hits and then we challenge you to stay. So this friend of mine was in the audience and she heard these two teenage girls, and they were saying ‘I don’t like this song,’ and then the other girl turned and said, ‘Yeah, they’ve already played “Today” and “Disarm.” Let’s go.’ And off they went. There you go, that’s half the world.”

Well, okay. So now, the challenge to that half of the world is not only to spring for two-disc set, but actually like it as much as Siamese Dream. Certainly, it runs the gamut from immediate-appeal pop (such as the blistering first single “Bullet With Butterfly Wings”) to personal ballads (the exquisite “Galapagos”), vengeful guitar rages (“Fuck You”), and perhaps most significantly for the band’s future, odd aural experiments such as “We Only Come Out At Night” and “X.Y.U.”

The pattern of following your breakthrough album with a challenging melange is well-established: The Beatles released the hodgepodge-y double-disc White Album after Sgt. Pepper’s and The Clash followed London Calling with the rather inconsistent triple album Sandinista! So the Pumpkins are at least in good company, historically speaking.

“People are always trying to make this link between our double record and everyone else’s” says Corgan. “If there was any double record that I would liken it to, I would say The White Album, just because it’s more song-y. It’s all over the place, but when you listen to it all, you get a vibe. And that’s the best thing I could say about it.”

Actually, the genesis of Mellon Collie was for it to be an old-fashioned concept album-dare we say it, a rock opera. “Initially I was leaning towards (Pink Floyd’s) The Wall where it would be more theatrical, have more musical segues, more direct conceptual material.” Corgan explains. “But once I got into the real writing of it, I realized I couldn’t do it. It’s not me. It was to constricting. I couldn’t write a song about the evil schoolmaster because it’s not the way I write. So I could be sitting there going, “I want to write a song about the evil schoolmaster,’ and another song would come out that has nothing to do with that. So do I pursue the one or the other? And I decided to just pursue whatever and then tried to tie everything together with a singular vine.”

And if there is one pervasive “vine” that ties the songs together, it’s a continuation of Corgan’s infamous personal Agenda. It’s no secret that his childhood was full of one emotional scar after another. Perhaps most damning is that his parents abandoned him to other relatives, then rubbed salt in the wound by living by living only a mile or so away, which led him to mistrust virtually everyone and strengthened his resolve to lead a fiervely independent life.

Corgan was the quintessential tortured misfit through high school and his early years of playing in Chicago bands. In fact, it’s a little odd that he chose to remain there once he tasted success-most artists would have left long ago to start a fresh life elsewhere. But Corgan recently bought a house in Chicago’s bohemian district of Wrigleyville, not far from his childhood memories. “I’ve made a certain amount of peace with my family,” he explains. “My heart belongs here. I could see living somewhere else, but…having been around the world a couple of times, all I want to know is where the french fries are. And here, I know.”

But secretly, there is also an element of Corgan thumbing his nose at his myriad persecutors by displaying his success right in front of them. “Of course there is,” he smiles. “It is true, but I enjoy that. It’s funny-I mean, they set the rules on that, not me. I’m only winning at their game. So I deserve the chance to give them the thumb.”

And in a perverse way, it’s almost as if Corgan’s misanthropic list has proven to be a better existence than that of your average normal conformist, because he has had the benefit of being able to create his life as he goes and succeed on his own terms. Then again, he doesn’t necessarily agree.

“I don’t know. I have really mixed feelings about that. I mean, if I’d been a normal blond-haired football player type, maybe my intelligence would have been applied in a different way. I wouldn’t wish this misanthrope thing on anybody. It’s not an easy way to live. There certainly is a lot of doubt and suspicion that goes with it. And it’s only those who can make manifest another thing that it really works for.”

If you’ve got the tools and the talent…

“That’s right. I’m sure there are plenty of misanthropes who went through essentially the same things as me who are working at a used record store, like I used to, but never made it out of there. It’s hard to really make it a badge of honor.”

So now, even though his misanthropy seeps though, he’s consciously trying to downplay it. After the media wringer that followed Siamese Dream, which focused on the personal candor of songs like “Disarm” and “Soma,” as well as the band’s rampant dysfuctionality. Corgan is choosing words much more carefully, both in songs and interviews. “When you get very autobiographical, it’s suddenly too insular,” he relates, “and the reference points are not as easily understood. I try to take it to one ring outside of that, keeping the world in mind. I try to link up universal ideas with my own experience. (The new album) seems a little less personal to me. It doesn’t make me cringe.

“What was unfortunate about the last album is that the honesty and courage that I tried to display was just used, abused, and crumpled up. I refuse to put myself on trial for being real. I’ll give you a perfect example: People would say that I was trumpeting those things for sympathy, for publicity, or whatever else insidious you could think of. The reason I did it is because I wanted those kids to know that I was in the same boat. I wasn’t Jimmy Page on a plane. I used to sit in my basement with my guitar and freeze. Freeze. Just fucking shiver because it was so cold in the basement and my mother wouldn’t heat it up beyond a certain point because we couldn’t afford it-which is a pretty common experience for people. And I’d play my fucking guitar with my numb fingers, and just fucking hate it. I just hated it. I hated my life, I hated my existence, I hated everything.

“I was trying to reach out to those people, and instead it got turned into a media ploy. (They said) I was an asshole, and I’m a whiner, and I’m all these things. All I was trying to say is what’s really going on. So I’m on the other end of it now.”

Once-bitten, twice shy. No surprise, then, that Corgan prefers to leave unspoken what The Infinite Sadness may refer to. “I don’t really like to explain things like this. That ís unfortunate, because it will be filtered and sound-bited, and then it comes back to me in a way that I don’t even recognize.”

But once in a while-perhaps as a result of being so bruised-Corgan can’t help but spew out direct emotion, as in “Fuck You.” In fact, that track echoes a statement Corgan wrote on the liner notes of Pisces Iscariot, last year’s compilation of Pumpkins B-Sides and outtakes: “Fuck you to those who will never understand.”

I think Billy has always had unrealistic expectations about people getting where we’re coming from,” says D’Arcy. “The fact is, most people aren’t going to get it. You can’t expect people to get everything all the time. It’s hard enough just to communicate.”

“I mean it in a nice way,” Corgan smirks. “I really do. I mean it with compassion. But ‘fuck off,’ you know? I don’t know what else you can expect from somebody but to be as honest as they can be. That’s all I would ever ask from anybody else. There are bands out there…I don’t like their music, but I respect them. To me that’s more important.”

There are only so many bands who have succeeded in rock history without making concessions to commerce, but those indeed are the great ones, and that is exactly what Corgan aspires to with the Pumpkins. “The Who is a great example of a band who consistently carved their own niche, stood their own fucking ground, for better or worse,” he cited. “That’s why they were The Who. I feel a certain kinship to that king of thinking. When you listen to a song like ‘Behind Blue Eyes,’ that is not a hit song in the (sense of, copping a Top 40 DJ voice) ‘Hey!’ But it’s fucking amazing song. I’d rather do that then chase…I mean, look at Prince. He’s trying to keep up with the times, when he should be defining the times.”

But Corgan stops short of claiming the role of definer himself, particularly in this post-Kurt Cobain world. He admits that he was deeply affected when Cobain resigned from life, but he prefers to keep most of those thoughts to himself.” (Cobain’s death) is nothing I really talk about because I just think it trivializes the whole thing. It gets turned into a cultural comment. I try not to forget that there’s a real human behind all that cultural talk. I think it’s pretty amazing that somebody in such a short life could cause so much trouble and talk. I think more about those kinds of things than what it means to us now. The guy’s dead.”

That being the case, some have looked to Corgan to fill Cobain’s shoes as a generational leader, bet he’s not biting. “We want our voice of a generation to understand out pain, articulate our pain, and look good.”

And that’s a tall order.

“Yeah, and make good videos. I can’t get there, and I’m fine with that. In some ways, not having things handed to me for certain reasons has pushed me into more of a value system. So I value the depth of my band. I value the depth of my albums, more so than somebody who was a star just because they were meant to be a star.

“I feel certain responsibilities to take my talents and define things, because I think that’s your role as an artist. But I feel like I never do enough. My responsibilities in the band are greater than most people’s in their bands, so it limits my ability to explore certain territory, because I’m too busy making the whole ship run.”

Well, if he didn’t spend so much time playing almost every instrument and confusing his bandmates with his dictatorial edicts, he might have time to explore this goal. Naturally, Corgan smarts at the mention of his studio selfishness. “That’s not totally true and I didn’t say that. I refuse to talk about that. That came from the band.”

For their part, The Other Three do admit they played more on Mellon Collie, albeit in an entirely detached arrangement. “We had two rooms going at the same time at this studio.” says Iha, blankly. “Billy had his room, me and D’Arcy had our room, and it was three moths of two rooms going at once.”

“I just basically ping-ponged between both rooms, told jokes, and kept everybody’s spirits up” says drummer Chamberlin, who seems to have a foot in both camps.

“There was a lot of trading off” Iha continues. “It was (producer) Flood in one room and (producer) Alan Moulder in the other room. It was basically whatever worked in the songs. I don’t play on all the songs, and on the two songs that I wrote I don’t know if (Corgan) plays guitar or not. On some songs I just played a keyboard or some weird thing. Literally there were so many songs to do that it wasn’t an ego thing.”
“Everyone was just working all the time.” D’Arcy pipes in.

“It’s a band record,” adds Iha. “In order to make the record on both sides-his side and our side-it had to be that, from writing to production. But it wasn’t a big deal if you didn’t play on every song. It wasn’t so anal.”

In light of this band division, it comes as no surprise when Corgan makes the following proclamation: “I made a conscious decision to kill off the Pumpkins, as people would know us to be musically, on this album” But it’s not why you think-at least publicly.

“The idea of this album was to bring everything we’ve tried to do in the past seven years to its highest level to its fruition,” says D’Arcy. “To be done with that style and move on creatively.Not just like, ‘We’re breaking up the band after this record.’”

“A lot of it has to do with the rock songs,” adds Iha.

“Those guys feel too old to rock,” D’Arcy cracks.

“I just think it’s stupid to be playing these super-heavy riffs when you’re 35,” Iha continues, as that talking-over-each-other thing takes over.

D’Arcy: “Hey, Sonic Youth does it. And they’re not stupid.”

Iha: “But they don’t play the kind of riffs we play.”

Yes, the party line is that the band is retiring…its sound.

“The guiding glue for us has always been the rock band-that’s the nail in the foot that holds is in the big circle,” Corgan explains. “And I made a conscious decision that this would be the last album that I would think like that, to hold myself to certain tenets-like that a kick-ass rock song could make for a good rock show. I really wanted to kill off that ideology. This is the last representation of that.”

Still, Corgan can’t help using the creative space a two-album set allows to begin exploring his next sound. “I want to further open up the context. I wanted to make more of an unlimited statement by saying, ‘Hey, fine-double album, anything goes.’ Still, down the middle you have…it’s gotta rock, ’cause then it’ll add up….

“Now imagine a whole album (of unlimited exploration). That’s where I want to go on to. And I think that the only way to do that is to let go of the rock ideology.”

Corgan’s initial solution is to let go of the standard guitar/bass/drums format. “So imagine thinking, ‘Simultaneously, I’m going to open the doors to what is my possible future and at the same time kill off the past.’ It’s like a cake-and-eat-it-too situation.”

But Corgan is cryptic on a more concrete description of where the band is headed. “Down in a hole,” he cracks.

Down in a hole?

“I feel like it’s back to square one.”

As to whether the band members will remain, Corgan has no specific answer. “I really can’t speak for everyone else. I know D’Arcy’s thinking about starting a family…Who know what anyone else is going to do? I don’t make any assumptions. We’re committed to this album and I think certainly after Siamese Dream we’ve been on an album-by-album basis, and it’s not because we’re not getting along-it’s exactly the opposite. But I think it’s because you just want to be real. You don’t want to do it because of money, you don’t want to do it because you’re supposed to, you want to make sure it’s what you really want to do.

“I’d like to think we’ll continue as a group and still be the Smashing Pumpkins. But it’s the end of this musical era. There is a thread from Gish to Siamese Dream to this album, there’s certainly a sound, a thinking and an attack and all that stuff. Let go off all of it. I’m sure you’ll end up in similar places, but I doubt you’ll end up in the same place. And I certainly feel the pull, like I’ve got a fucking nail in my foot and I’m going around in a big circle. In some ways this album’s a return to Gish…so you know you’re going in a circle then.”

The Other Three concur, pointing out that they’re not exactly sure what their roles will be, if at all. “There will be a lot more sampling, a lot less guitar, bass, and drums,” says Chamberlin.

“Or else….” adds Iha. “Personally, I’m much more into simple singer-songwriter acoustic guitar writing, so I can also see that.”

D’Arcy: “James is a country star now.”

But Iha’s not sure if this will be in the context of the Pumpkins. “I don’t know, it’s hard to say. We’ll see how it goes.”

“But I think we’ve demonstrated on this record that it is possible to do lots of variations, on the basic theme being the Pumpkins,” Chamberlin interjects. “I think there’s still room for acoustic-y type stuff. But as far as the mainframe, we’ll be leaning more towards the technology side. That’s the most limitless. We’ve pretty much run the gamut of guitar, bass and drums. Now we look to Macintosh for our inspiration.”

The real challenge for Corgan is to do what very few musicians have accomplishes-to use technology in the service of an entirely human art. “I have confidence in my ability to write a song” he defends. “I certainly have confidence in my integrity, so if I can make that happen….Imagine an album with completely advanced sound, like you weren’t use to hearing in the context of popular music. Technology with soul. You’d still go, ‘I don’t know, I don’t think it’s quite the same.’ Throw all those things out.

“I think technology us the thing that’ll take me to that clear space where I’m not competing with everything that’s come before. If you’re playing two guitars, bass and drums, you’re undoubtedly going to sound like somebody. There’s no way around it. It’s more about reinvention. And I want to be in the invention category. And I think-and this is what gives me comfort-that I’m strong enough songwriter that, you give me a fucking kazoo and I’ll write you a good song. So I’m not really worried about me taking that leap because I know I’ll still be able to come up with the goods of the song.”

And despite the fact that Corgan is known not to get along socially with Trent Reznor, he does respect Reznor’s use of technology to fuel his art. “The cues I would take from someone like Trent is that here’s a good songwriter who can apply the technology and create a new world out of it. he has carved out his own singular niche, and with that niche he can enjoy a lot creative space. ‘Cause he’s not competing with all this other stuff. Here we are in 1995, the Smashing Pumpkins are competing with Bush and Silverchair….It’s basic rock.

“So I thought, well, in some ways I’m ready to make this leap now, but I don’t want to go to my grave feeling like we never fulfilled our full potential with this band. So maybe this album is a year in the making, but who the fuck cares? I want to go to my grave feeling like I’ve made what would be the quintessential Smashing Pumpkins rock album. Whereas Gish was the young band, and Siamese Dream was me under adverse conditions, this is the one where you could make it all be worth the effort.”

Smashing Pumpkins unlock “Adore” to new sound by paul cashmere

The fateful meeting in Chicago of the sarcastic D’arcy and the arrogant Billy Corgan happened exactly ten years ago. The flaming personalities made for a volatile concoction leading to the creation of Smashing Pumpkins. Their music is as volatile as their personalities, peaks and valleys that take you from pure calm to absolute angst. The Smashing Pumpkins recording career began in the early 90’s with producer Butch Vig at the helm. Their original sound grew out of the grunge movement, but by the mid 90’s they had evolved completely away as they developed the plush sounds that became “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness”. “Mellon Collie” was their commercial peak, going on to sell more than six million copies. Never a band to rest on their laurels, the Pumpkins took on the brave decision for a complete re-invention and “Adore” was born. The band has also taken the unprecedented decision to tour the world to launch the new sound, taking in 14 shows across the world in just over a month.

Towards the end of the tour, they touched down in Melbourne Australia and bass player D’arcy spoke with Undercover Executive Producer, Paul Cashmere.

You are out touring the world with “Adore” – some 14 shows across the planet in a month. What inspired you to play to the planet in such a short amount of time?

Well we went to Disney World and they have this ride. It’s called “It’s A Small Small World”. That song gets stuck in your head (singing) Its a small small world na na na na na, it’s a small world. It is a small world.

So it was Disney Propaganda?

Yeah and I have stock in Disney too.

Prior to the albums release, Billy did a solo show at the Viper Room and performed a song called “Let Me Give My World To You” which was meant to be on “Adore”. What happened to that song?

Maybe eventually it will come out as a B side but we’ll have to change the title to something like “Let Me Give The Universe To You”. That goes back to the same thing. When we went on the ride at Disney, we thought the world was so small. It was a small, small world and that if it’s that small it’s just not enough.

Is there a long version of 17?

No.

So will any of the unreleased Pumpkins songs ever come out?

I have no idea. I think when we are 80 years old and we have to be put in a nursing home and we need money. All those songs that we put in a box will come out then when we need the money for the nursing home.

What has led to the re-invention of the sound of Smashing Pumpkins on “Adore”?

We talked about it about three years ago. We were never really part of the grunge thing but the heavy music we could see people moving away from all of that. Fans just don’t get as excited about shows anymore and who can blame them. What have you seen that hasn’t been done. We are just trying to find something different really and we’ve been talking about it, and talking about it and talking about it since when we did “Mellon Collie” and it was just vital for our own sanity because we just couldn’t keep regurgitating the same things.

You haven’t performed anything from “Gish” or “Siamese Dream” in over two years. Are those songs ever going to make a comeback in a live set?

Maybe when we are 80. When we need money before we go into the rest home, we’ll go on tour and play them.

There’s talk the next album is going to be another double album.

No, we’d never do that to ourselves or anyone else again.

When are you going back to record?

September.

Has the album been written already?

No and if anyone has any ideas, send them in. We have no idea, that’s why we are looking for ideas from external sources.

What rumors go around about the band that get back to you?

Well, I’ve been pregnant five times. The band has broken up I don’t know how many times. James died – twice.

How do you keep a level head when you hear the rumors?

I think it’s kind of funny. Call me twisted. You know what’s really funny is that my father who is not so press savvy or very worldly either, every time he hears these things, he believes it. He wants another grandchild. He’ll say something like “no really, really, when are you due. Tell me, I’m your father. Come on, you can be honest with me”.

You have a track on the new “Depeche Mode” tribute album. What was your part?

It’s about five years old. We recorded it at the BBC. It turned out really well. We did it in one take or something. It was surprising how well it turned out. Dave Gahan said some really nice things about it. I was very intensely into “Depeche Mode” when I was around 17.

Take us back to the D’arcy / Billy meeting. The very day the Pumpkins happened.

O.K. Local Chicago Goth Club called The Avalon. They played that Bryan Ferry song “Avalon” every night at the close when they were kicking everyone out. I was outside talking about a live band that plays there all the time that I liked. Some asshole just butts into my conversion while we are standing on the sidewalk and says “what the hell were you talking about. That band was crap and besides that they were put together by a record company”. I said “How would you know that. Can you tell just by looking at them?” And he says “I can tell by the way a guy jumps around on stage”. I said “I jump around on stage and I wasn’t put together by a record company”. He says “Yeah well what do you do”. I say “I play bass” and he says “I have a band and I’m looking for a bass player. Here’s my number. Give me a call”. And that was it. My friends came and tore me away at that point because we were about to come to blows. I wasn’t as calm as it sounds.

How much of the early success of the band do you attribute to Butch Vig?

We attribute all of our successes to Butch – everything. He told us how to dress and what to say. He worked with Killdozer, so he knew the right grunge sounds. We worked with Butch before anybody knew who Butch was. He taught us a lot of technical things. He helped us in the aspects of our anal retentiveness. A lot of people confuse the fact that we recorded “Gish” with Butch before Nirvana recorded with Butch. Like several months before, probably almost a year. It’s always been the bands vision. It was great working with Butch and we loved his ideas and the way that he worked, but we have always been the kind of band that works with people who help us realize our vision. We have never had someone molding us.

The Pumpkins has become a family to you.

It started off me, James and Billy. It’s always been understood that, somehow, we just knew that the music of this band, when Billy bought me to his house to listen to the tapes of his old band in his bedroom, I knew then that this is what I wanted to be doing. I was in a different band at the time. I was living with the singer and his girlfriend. The singer was also my boss, so I had to sneak out of the house to go to band practice with Billy. It was ridiculous. But just hearing the songs for the first time and for James, what he wanted to do was exactly what I wanted to be. I wasn’t happy with the band I was in. Everyone was in this kind of unspoken agreement that the band was the most important thing. It was bigger than all of us. We always put the band ahead. Unfortunately some of the people didn’t feel that way so they are no longer in the band.

Has drummer Kenny Aronoff been made a full member of the band?

Kenny is not in the band. He is playing in the band. I don’t know if we will ever get another member again. I like Kenny and he is great to play with. It’s nice to play with someone who can play steady tempos but I don’t know. It’s just really hard to find someone to be in a band that’s been around for 10 years. He is great. I would like to work with him more, but I don’t know what’s going to happen, I just don’t know.

There’s talk of the “Pistachio Medley” idea from the “Zero” EP being redeveloped for the next album.

That was something like snippets of songs that had been done already, just edited together. That doesn’t take a whole band to go into the studio to edit snippets of songs together. It was done just for the fun of it, but for the band it would be like too many cooks in the kitchen. If Billy wants to spend his vacation doing that, then more power to him. I’m going home.

Do the songs come quickly to the band?

There are a thousand different ways you can write a song. Some take years. Literally some can take like three years. “Shame”, for example, that was like Billy bringing in a riff, the three of us jamming on it with a drum machine and what you get on the album is what we did then. You just never know. The combinations are infernal.

Your upcoming US tour is for children’s charity. What’s prompted that?

We’ve done a little bit of that in the past. Little bits and pieces like whenever we’ve done a secret show. Sometimes people would ask us to do charity shows and we would do them. We want to do more things that are social causes. It was just time for it. Doing the Bridge School Foundation Show I think that really planted the seed within us. It was just so incredibly moving with Neil Young and bringing all the kids up on stage. It’s important. It gets to a point in your career when you’ve been successful for a long time. It’s just time to do something to give back. It’s really important to me and I think it’s really good that we’re doing it.

I must mention to you are the first Simpson’s character I have ever met.

I was portrayed as a Simpson’s character as myself. We didn’t actually get to talk to Homer in the studio. I’m not complaining, that was great. It was one of the highlights of our career.

What else have you done that’s cool like that?

We got to go to the set of the X-Files. That was really cool. We were just hanging out and David Duchovny would come over and we would talk about Star Trek. It was good.

Do you get excited meeting famous people these days?

Occasionally. Not so much anymore. I’m just too jaded and cynical these days. There are certain things that I just become obsessed with. Those would be a couple of those things. David Duchovny would be one, definitely. I can’t think of anyone else, maybe Homer if he was there, but I am really pissed off that he wasn’t. Maybe Jerry Seinfeld. We went to see him play in Sydney, but he made us pay for our tickets. He wouldn’t even put us on the guest list. Typical. I don’t think he really cares. I think he is a sports guy. I don’t think he knows you can do both. I don’t think he knows you can be fans of both music and sports and comedy. He was great, he was hysterical but I just couldn’t believe it, we would never make him pay for tickets to our show. And on top of it, not only did we have to pay for our tickets, we are driving up to the venue and the guy who is with us, the promoter, who arranged for the tickets, his cell phone rings. It’s a call from Jerry’s entourage saying “Well some other VIP’s have showed up. Do you mind showing up to the later show.” I thought “What are you crazy. We are just about to get out of the car and go in and of all the nerve. It’s like someone more important than you has shown up, so you mind skipping do you – New Yorkers.

Smashing Pumpkins new album “Adore” is out now through Virgin Records.

Undercover would like to thank for their contributions to the questions Adam Newman from Buffalo Grove, Colin Smith of Montana, Ashley Epperly of Witchita, Chris Taylor of Napan, New Brunswick, Francisco Bajaris or LA, Nic George, Auburn, Washington and also James Hamilton.

Source: starla.org

A compilation of interviews with Billy Corgan in 2000 & 1993 with music videos and live footage. Billy’s interviews in 2000 are over-dubbed in French and the interview in 1993 contains French subtitles.

MODERN DRUMMER INTERVIEW WITH JIMMY CHAMBERLIN, AUGUST 2000

Editor’s Note: As we were going to press with this issue, we learned of Billy Corgan’s decision to break up The Smashing Pumpkins after the band’s current tour ends. The following interview with Chamberlin took place earlier this year.

Jimmy Chamberlin’s first US tour since returning to The Smashing Pumpkins wasn’t in arenas, but in record stores for disc-signing sessions. He imagined the digs and barbs from fans lined up for autographs and handshakes: “Are you still doing drugs? Do you care that someone died? You don’t deserve to be back in the band.” To some degree, Chamberlin figured he deserved the scrutiny. On the night of July 11, 1996. he shot heroin with Jonathan Melvoin, the band’s touring keyboardist, and Melvoin died of an overdose. A week later, the remaining Pumpkins released a statement saying they’d “decided to sever our relationship with our friend and drummer, Jimmy Chamberlin.” A week after that, Chamberlin pleaded guilty to a charge of disorderly conduct and was sentenced to a rehabilitation program. The Pumpkins toured and recorded without him, and few people heard anything of Chamberlin for the next two and a half years.     

“How do you go from being adored to being thought of as a loser?” Chamberlin asks now. “I cry in my heart every day for Jonathan, but I expected the band to be like the Four Musketeers — all for one and one for all — so getting fired hit me like a ton of bricks. Was I shocked? Yeah. Was I pissed? Yeah, for a second. But as I stepped back and looked at it, I realized that’s what they had to do to save their own careers, and also for their own integrity. Why should they put up with that nonsense? I certainly wouldn’t. I knew they didn’t do it out of hate, and I didn’t love them any less for it.” Chamberlin’s impact and influence on The Pumpkins was never more clear than with Adore, the 1998 album created without him. Gone were the jazz-influenced rhythms, atop-the-beat accents, and crushing snare fills that established Chamberlin as one of modern rock’s elite craftsmen. Largely supported by flat, mechanized rhythms, Adore fell flat with fans. Chamberlin noticed it all from an emotional and physical distance. Emerging from rehab, he went to auto racing school, earned a license, and raced on the professional street-stock circuit for two years. He indulged an interest in astronomy — he owns four telescopes and has an observatory in his plans for a new home — and saw a windfall of cash by investing in a company that makes medicinal cervical caps.

Rumors of his forming a new band with Kelly Deal and Sebastian Bach were greatly exaggerated — they jammed together for a day. Otherwise, Chamberlin didn’t touch his drums until Pumpkins leader Billy Corgan invited him back. Machina: The Machines of God is somewhat a “welcome back” party for Chamberlin — listen to the outro of the opening track, “Everlasting Gaze” to hear what he means to this band. Chamberlin is quick to note, though, how much the band means to him. The day after Corgan asked him back, he dove into a disciplined practice regimen to make up for lost time. Along with drugs, he’s also kicked what was a multi-packs-a-day smoking habit.

Chamberlin hasn’t ditched the trappings of rock stardom altogether, though. He’s wearing tight black pants and a black cotton long-sleeved mesh shirt that hugs tight to his body — all purchased during a recent trip to Milan, Italy. His bleached dirty-blond hair is designed to look like a mess. He isn’t quite clean, either — he still drinks — but says he has a handle on the “demons” that lead him to drugs and nearly ruined his life, in and out of the band. Chamberlin found the record-signing sessions personally and artistically validating, and he no longer takes for granted the potentially widespread impact of his music. “The signings, for me, were like being welcomed back by every kid,” he says. “The greatest thing I hear is, ‘You’re the reason I play drums,’ and the second greatest thing I’ve heard is, ‘You’re the best rock drummer since John Bonham,’ which almost made me fall out of my chair. I don’t know of the kid knew what he was talking about, but that was quite a compliment — and I’ll take it.”  Just before sitting down for another autograph outing this past February, Jimmy talked about his ouster and return to Smashing Pumpkins, his evolution as a player and a person, and the creative process behind Machina: The Machines Of God.

MD: When we interviewed you last, on the eve of Mellon Collie’s release, you said you were clean. Were you?

Jimmy: Yeah, at the time of the interview I was.

MD: So what happened?

Jimmy: I don’t know…stress? Whatever happens. We’re a lot older now, and I kinda look at it like that. When your unreality becomes your reality, it’s hard to put a gauge on it, and that’s what happened. At the time, we were arguably the biggest band in the world. You achieve this rock star status and start believing your own bullshit. You start thinking you’re indestructible. But there’s a lot of stress and responsibility that goes along with that, and you may not want it. At some point you begin having this love-hate relationship with your career, and then it all becomes about escapism. Some people deal with it one way and some deal with it another way. A lot of times people deal with it the wrong way. That’s what happened.

MD: Did you feel like a public pariah during your time away from the band?

Jimmy: Yeah, absolutely, and I think I was for a while. But that went away. It’s amazing the amount of forgiveness that’s out there.

MD: How did you emerge from all this? Were you determined in a personal or professional sense to move on?

Jimmy: The music business has been my life since I was eight years old. Up until this, it was the only thing I could turn to that was constant. But I was pretty fed up with the music business for what it had done to me, and I wasn’t going to go back to that. But you can either implode or grow. You can either kill yourself or…. But what can you do but go on? What was I going to do — stop playing altogether? I didn’t really want to play with any other bands; I wanted to play with The Pumpkins. I knew in my heart that we’d get back together at some point. But at the same time, there were other things I wanted to do, and road racing was a great outlet for me. Jack Baldwin, one of the top racers out there, kinda took me under his wing, and the racing community was very supportive of me and welcomed me into their family with open arms.

MD: Did you start seeing invitations from other bands?

Jimmy: Not really. I mean, a few things came up, but I don’t think anyone seriously wanted any of my baggage. But it was a little upsetting because I felt that I was pretty capable of playing with anybody at that point. If I learned anything in thirty-five years, though, it was to trust my heart and intuition, and I just knew I was eventually coming back to The Pumpkins.

MD: When you were out of the band, how much did you know or care to know about what was going on with them?

Jimmy: I pretty much stayed away from it. But I heard they were having problems with drums, which really upset me. I really hoped when they went to make Adore that Matt Walker or somebody else really kicked some drum-ass on the record. I mean, with the groundwork I’d already laid, it was just about as open a canvas as a drummer could get. Billy could have gotten any of those guys to play like me — they’re all great drummers — and it took a lot of guts for Billy to go completely away from that.

MD: What was your reaction when you first heard the record?

Jimmy: I was a little surprised, and I think a lot of people had that reaction about it, that it just wasn’t the same without me. But it wasn’t supposed to be the same — there’s no way it could have been. There really are no drums on it, and the couple of drummers who came in to play a track or two didn’t have any music that allowed them to shine. I could see where Billy was going probably better than anybody could, but part of me was glad that there weren’t a whole lot of drums on it. It kind of saved my drum-ass, in a way. Had it not been any different — had it sounded even sixty percent like a Pumpkins record — I would have been so sad. So I kinda let out a deep breath and it reinforced to me that, yeah, I am capable of doing something unique. It was artistically validating. I don’t mean that in a negative way, that I thought the record was bad, I really like the record for what it is, and I’d like to go back in sometime and re-record it. It would be an interesting, fun project, but I don’t know if it’ll happen. We’re doing a couple of songs from Adore in our shows — “Ava Adore” and “Punk” — and they’re full-on rock songs. Part of the beauty of the four of us is anything can happen — the wheel could fall off the cart at any time — and that’s part of the magic of this band.

MD: Did you touch your drums at all during your time away?

Jimmy: Pretty much not. If I didn’t step away so completely, I wouldn’t have been able to come back to it now like I have. I was having a great time in racing, but music has always been my first love, and the opportunity to make another Pumpkins record was too good to pass up.

MD: Talk about the process that brought you back into the band.

Jimmy: Six months before I got back in the band I knew it was going to happen. I just knew it in my heart, some kind of cosmic alignment going on. Billy and I have always been very close, and our hearts are very close. We were together for ten years, so no matter where we are, we can pick up on each other’s energies. I’d been in contact with his assistant for a while, and then I was in LA for a Halloween party, and The Pumpkins were doing some show with KISS. Billy and I had lunch and talked about the new record. He was saying something like, “When we make the new record,” and I was like, “What do you mean we?” just to mess with him. But it wasn’t weird at all. It felt exactly the same as it had always been. When Billy said he wanted me back in the band and to play on the next record, I literally flew home the next day and started practicing. It was the best day of my life. Of course, after not playing for two years, making another record with this band wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. I started out with Stick Control and Around The Drums, all those books, and I got myself a set of Roland V-Drums and worked out on those. They have a built in metronome and they’re just amazing practice tools. But it took me six months to even get close to being ready to record a song.

MD: What aspect of your playing needed the most reconditioning?

Jimmy: Playing the simple stuff was the hardest part. The fills and chops are just a matter of getting your muscle-memory back together. The fast single-stroke rolls are just a matter of calisthenics and getting back in shape. But I was never the best groove player in the world to begin with, so playing slow stuff was a real bitch. But if I know one thing, it’s how to practice. I’d sit in the room for five or six hours a day. That’s the kind of commitment it takes. Even when we were in the studio rehearsing, I’d get up at nine in the morning and go into the studio. We’d work from noon to midnight and then I’d stay there practicing until three. I talked with Billy about having to catch up, but he didn’t seem worried about it, and he was pretty surprised at how fast I got it back.

MD: What kind of role did you have in the development of songs on Machina?

Jimmy: I think I had a pretty integral role. The record was basically written with me in mind. I don’t think Billy would have written songs like “Stand Inside Your Love” without me on the drums.

MD: From the opening track, it’s clear that you bring so much soul to The Pumpkins’ music. Your beat as the song closes is almost like saying, “I’m back.” But in general, you’re much more restrained than you were in the days of Gish and Siamese Dream.

Jimmy: I don’t think I’m restrained at all. I played exactly what I wanted to play whenever I wanted to play it. It’s just that this is the way I am now and the way the band is. I made Gish when I was twenty-four — eleven years ago — and I was just out of control then. Listen to Steve Gadd’s playing on Aja and then now. There’s a maturity that may sound restrained, but it’s not.

MD: Yeah, but it’s also self-imposed. Maturity aside, why do you think you’re happier to settle into a pocket now?

Jimmy: I don’t think you can easily separate it from maturity. When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, you learn to hear certain things in the music. You’re not only thinking of the drum parts, but also how they affect the song, and I’m realizing that sometimes playing a groove does more justice to a song than a blazing single-stroke roll. The whole point while making this record was to use our hearts and not our brains. We’ve been through so much — you name it, anything, we’ve done it — so the last thing we wanted to do was get caught up in expectations and over-think anything. Mellon Collie came from the heart, but there was a lot of math on that record, too. I didn’t use any electric drums on this record. There’s no triggering. It’s all outboard effects and a little contact miking. One song, “The Imploding Voice,” had an electronic track, but we took it off. “The Sacred And Profane” is just a drum loop I did and then played over. Take a song like “Heavy Metal Machine.” The drum track on the record was only the second time I’d heard that song. That’s a perfect example of Billy and me not having to use words at all to communicate. “This Time” was the same way. Billy came in with a Dylan-esque folk song and I put in an Allman Brothers-type drum part, and the song went in a completely different direction. They’re all very different songs and I regarded each very differently as a drummer — there are about five different drum sets on this record — and I don’t think I did that before.

MD: Your tempos are very solid on this record.

Jimmy: I was very conscious of that. That’s always been my weak point, which is stupid for a drummer to admit to, but I have a heard time with it. Songs like “Sacred and Profane” have a drum loop on them, so the tempos have to be right on. We recorded that song very slowly, then sped the tape up so the drums would have that nice, crisp sound.

MD: What about the drum kit you’re playing now?

Jimmy: My drum set is exactly the same as before, except now I also use three concert toms. I had Yamaha make me a set of them. I used to have some timbalitos and timbales, but I got really sick of them. Maybe with some smaller concert toms, I can achieve the same kind of percussiveness live without the whacked-out timbale sound. Yamaha came through with the Maple Custom Absolute, which is on the second half of the record. It’s the most amazing set of drums I’ve ever had. The shells are really thin and they have that old, classic Ludwig sound. I also used my old white marine pearl maple kit and a gold maple kit. So for the record I basically used those three kits and different configurations of them, and my main snare was a steel Manu Katché model.

MD: Were there any drum parts that gave you problems or evolved much from what you’d originally planned?

Jimmy: “Stand Inside Your Love” was a bitch. “Glass And The Ghost Children” was originally a straight groove song, but Flood [co-producer] was integral in the development of it. He said, “Why don’t you try playing it as a samba, like some calypso song,” and it worked. Flood brings out playing i[co-producer] was integral in the development of it. He said, “Why don’t you try playing it as a samba, like some calypso song,” and it worked. Flood brings out playing in me that I would never do naturally. I think it’s really important

MD: Do you appreciate music any more since coming through this latest episode?

Jimmy: I don’t think music was really the enemy. Performing music was the enemy, the business of music was the enemy. Music has always been a beautiful thing to me, but having to produce it got to be a mental strain on me. Now we operate more like a sports team. On a typical day, I’ll have breakfast and then go for a run or hit the steam room. It’s not like I could be like I used to be — drink all night and then go play a gig. I quit smoking just before New Year’s — to the disbelief of everybody — and my drumming has really improved because of that. A three-hour show is nothing to me now, whereas before I would be wiped out. The problem now is I can’t go to sleep because I have too much energy. But I do enjoy this band more than ever. It’s like coming back to an old lover, and I appreciate it so much more now. Will I make music with Billy forever? Maybe not. I mean, I’ll always have the relationship with Billy that we could come back to each other at any time and make music. If this is the last record we ever do, which if very well may be, I think this would be a healthy way to break, whereas the other way would have been unhealthy. There’s a lot of life out there, and music can be part of it for me, but it doesn’t have to be all of it. No matter what, I won’t let the realities and responsibilities of a music career destroy me again. I’ll quit before that happens.

Source: Angelfire.com

SAVING GRACE INTERVIEW WITH JIMMY CHAMBERLIN, FEBRUARY 2005

After the demise of the short lived Zwan, Jimmy Chamberlin was at a crossroads in his professional life. But it was with some friendly nudging by Billy Corgan, his former bandmate in Smashing Pumpkins and Zwan, that steered him towards what would ultimately become the Jimmy Chamberlin Complex.

“When I was doing these clinics, Billy called me up and said, ‘You know, you should really look into doing your solo record now.’ My take on it was, does anybody really want to put out a self-indulgent drum record?” His question was answered quickly when Merck Mercuriadis, CEO of Sanctuary Records, called him up out of the blue to declare his wholehearted support of anything Chamberlin was interested in doing. Within days, he was in New York signing an album deal without any idea of what he was going to do.

The first person Chamberlin contacted after the signing was Billy Mohler, a former member of the Thelonius Monk Institute and the pop-rock band The Calling. The two had met two years earlier when Mohler auditioned for Zwan. Even though Mohler didn’t get that gig, the two stayed in touch and became friends. “I basically said, ‘I got this crazy record deal, what are you doing, let’s put together a band and make some cool music.’”

It wasn’t long into the writing of the album that Chamberlin faced a task he had never faced before: writing lyrics. “The lyrics came out of necessity. When we started writing the record, we started in a more fusion environment and that got boring really quick and that wasn’t what we were about on an organic level. At first it was a bit daunting, but once I started to do it, the more I got into it, the more I started enjoying it and being able to say things lyrically that I would normally have to say musically. I’ve always seen my drumming as lyrical anyway. Certainly in a lyrical supporting role with Corgan and company that I’ve worked with, so it wasn’t that big of a stretch for me.”

Originally, Corgan was supposed to lay down guitar tracks on the record, but when he couldn’t take time out from work on his own solo record, Mohler suggested Sean Woolstenhulme, a young, unknown, and unconventional guitarist. “Literally the first note he played I said he was in. He’s such a big part of the sound. To have somebody at twenty-two (Woolstenhulme is now twenty-three) to come in and play with that kind of maturity and that kind of texture…the guy’s a prodigy, he’s an amazing individual. All he wants to do is practice and that’s all he does, all day long. That’s what it takes if you want to change the face of music. You’ve gotta be committed to it. We had a saying in the Pumpkins, ‘It’s the extra 10 percent work you do that makes it 100 percent better than everything else.’ And that’s totally true of anything you do,” Chamberlin said.

Life Begins Again boasts an intriguing variety of guest appearances that add a richness to the album’s overall aesthetic. From Rob Dickinson of Catherine Wheel, who sings on two of the album’s tracks (“It was just the fates that brought us together. He’s another guy that’s an amazing singer.”), to, of course, Billy Corgan, who adds his distinctive vocals to “Lokicat,” a song that features Chamberlin’s brother Paul, who is also a drummer.

“Yeah, my brother’s a great drummer, and was certainly a source of inspiration for me growing up. My brother was always in bands and on the road when I was a kid and he was my inspiration. He never made it with a big band, in fact he never made a record. Here he is fifty-something years old. My brother and I had a real love-hate relationship with my success. There was some bitterness there that I didn’t understand until recently, but I told him that if I ever did a record I wanted him to play on it. I always heard the two drum part for the “Lokicat” song. Mohler and I wrote that song the day that Elvin Jones died. We were doing this tribal drum thing underneath this keyboard thing that Mohler had written. And I thought that if I could play that part as the percussion part and get my brother to sync this straight beat underneath it, it might be something cool.”

Cool is an understatement. What “Lokicat,” in fact does, is to finally put to rest the snide, derisive remarks that persisted over whether or not Chamberlin’s presence on the Smashing Pumpkins’ Adore would have somehow derailed that album’s languid beauty. The song has the same sort of ethereal, ambient sound that was present on Adore. Overall, Life Begins Again features drumming by Chamberlin that is more soulful, gentler than in his days with the Pumpkins, but with a suppleness that carries over from the old days.

But perhaps the most stunning guest appearance comes in the form of a singer who is about as far removed from the rock realm Chamberlin came of age in as you can get.

To hear Bill Medley’s sonorous voice over “Lullabye To Children,” (“It was the one song I was really struggling with the lyrics for. Mohler and his fiance Becca came in with these beautiful lullaby lyrics to my daughter.”) is creepy in the best sense of the word. Goosebumps and chills are destined to run down the listener’s arms and spine as this track unfolds. “People just kept coming back to me going, ‘That Medley tune, that Medley tune.’ And every time I would play it for Dickinson he would say, ‘You gotta turn the vocal up. You gotta really juice the vocal, cause I gotta hear every piece of spit in his voice.’” The song may not mean much to his daughter now at age two he says, “but when she’s 15 or 16 she’s gonna really get a kick out of it. And then maybe play it for her daughter. And maybe it’s a thing that the Chamberlins play for their daughters for centuries. Stuff like that you can’t think too much about, you just have to go with it.”

Even though he’s older now and the days of the Smashing Pumpkins are well behind him, his commitment to music has not changed. “Through the dark days in the mid-’90s, I think it was music that saved me. When you can look back at that and realize why you’re here and realize, ‘Okay, I’m alive because God wants to hear more music, or my mother does,’ or whatever you want to call the energy force that’s ruling around you. You start to look at it with a deeper respect and I think that deeper respect for what you do builds more self-respect. That period in my life, people see it as, ‘Oh he was a drug addict and he messed up.’ Nobody writes about the fact that I was in Australia when my father died and I felt like a piece of shit for not being there when he passed away. No one writes about the emotional things you go through. People just expect you to show up, be a cartoon character of yourself, take your money and go home. But don’t screw up to the point where you’re gonna be out of the picture. But back then the thing that saved me was the music, and it’s certainly the music that saves me now. The music, my family and my friends and everybody around me. If you put the right things out there the right things will happen.”

Being an elder statesmen of rock brings about great joy in Chamberlin as well. “I feel really good in the teacher role. When I’m at home I practice everyday. I take my craft very seriously. I can’t take days off and play like I did last night. Maybe some people can, but I can’t.” However, he does not have delusions on his new band’s place in the musical world. “Is the Complex going to change the face of music? I doubt it. But if it can help it along a little bit, that’s great. When I go on the website and I see twelve year-old musicians writing in, going ‘If the Complex is all about listening to Thelonius Monk and Charles Mingus, then I’m going to check out those records.’ If you can get a twelve year-old kid to go listen to Thelonius Monk, what more do you want? Do you want a big pile of cash, too? That’s a home run for me. I was fortunate when I was growing up to go see the Oscar Peterson Trio, and Ella Fitzgerald and Joe Pass, and have those people make a huge dent in my life. Just their commitment to music, those guys weren’t making any money. I used to go see Oscar Peterson at the Auditorium, there’d be like 500 people.”

Chamberlin credits his family for his rich musical background and the exposure to jazz at an early age. “My dad was a clarinet player, so the first music I was exposed to as a kid was Duke Ellington and Count Basie and Sonny Greer, Gene Krupa, Dave Tough, those kind of big band/swing drummers. And I had five older brothers and sisters as well, so growing up in the ’70s I had constant exposure to Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Deep Purple, Rush and of course my sisters were into Joni Mitchell, Steely Dan, and Mose Allison. I think the way I play comes from that and that I took a little bit from everything I was listening to and made it my own. But if you ask me where my drumming lays, I think that it’s somewhere between Elvin Jones and Mitch Mitchell, or Tony Williams and John Bonham, something like that. I can’t really put my finger on where I turned a corner or where I started making it my own. Probably the most prophetic thing I heard from a drummer was when Buddy Rich said, ‘The best musicians are thieves that never get caught.’ That’s something I really took to heart. And taking little bits here and there, taking a Keith Moon thing that you really like and work into an Elvin Jones thing. Certainly, being a drummer like that and being able to explore music in the Pumpkins, especially with Billy who is such a dynamic songwriter, and to be able to play on pieces like “To Forgive” and “Galapogos” and “Tonight, Tonight” and those types of songs where a standard drum approach isn’t going to float the song. You know you need to get into something a little more orchestral, or you need to grab some brushes, you need to support the song in a different way certainly helped. Had I joined a straight rock band, I’m sure my drumming would be a little bit different right now. But I think that growing up musically with him and him growing up musically with me dictated the way we play now. Last night Billy came to me and said, ‘Wow, I recognize a lot of the stuff you’re doing, but there’s a whole other side of you that I never really saw in the Pumpkins.” He came to me and said “I feel like you’ve been dating somebody else.’ Chamberlin lets out a series of hearty laughs.

“The thing I try to do the most is to play in terms of the song and play in terms of what I’m hearing. When people say ‘Oh you’ve got a jazz background…’, it’s not like I’ve spent years playing trio jazz or went on tour with McCoy Tyner or something like that. I think that the jazzy approach that I have is based on the way that I hear music and in the way I play a supporting role to the other people in the band. And along with doing what I’m doing, I’m always listening to what’s going on around me and trying to be as supportive as I can. And certainly the Complex lends itself to this little bit more of a fluttering, syncopated, more of a powerhouse, dynamic drumming than the Pumpkins or Zwan did. I think you can still tell it’s me, it’s just a different side of me, or maybe a little more of me, or a little less of me at times.”

It’s like what Billy (Corgan) said to me last night,” ‘The thing that supercedes all the technical proficiency you guys are operating under is just the sheer honesty of the music. There’s this cloud of joy hanging over everything you guys are doing. And even though there’s this crazy amount of dexterous, crazy rock, it never comes off as ‘Hey, check me out!’ or ‘Look at how fast I can play!” I think for me it’s just being able to do something that’s honest. It certainly restores my faith in humanity when I see radio stations picking this up and playing it and sitting here and doing interviews like this, because to be completely honest, when I went in to do this thing I wasn’t expecting anything. I was expecting to do an art record and I figured a bunch of drummers would buy it and that would be it.”

But the response has come from a lot more people than just “a bunch of drummers” for Life Begins Again. Chamberlin was given a royal showcase in a recent Chicago Tribune Arts & Entertainment cover story by Greg Kot, and the early reviews (including here at St@tic), have been quite favorable.

“People are not afraid to put their two cents in about something like this, because there’s nothing they have to make up. This record doesn’t pretend to be anything it’s not. It is what it is. It doesn’t come with any gilded wrapper or any preconceived notions of ‘here’s the hit and I don’t really care if you listen to the other songs.’ It’s one complete piece of art.”

And this piece of art will not sit on the shelf alone. Plans are already in the work for another offspring of the Jimmy Chamberlin Complex.

“We’re already writing new songs for the next record. We didn’t just sign a one-record deal. We signed a multiple record deal. What I see for the band by the end of this year is the Complex live at the Montreux Jazz Festival. I want my guys to be comfortable. I’m certainly not in this for the money, but I’d really like to see my guys make some money off of this stuff. They’re young musicians and they deserve a break. They’re putting their asses on the line. I just hope that we go on to be a great band, because we definitely have the makings of it. I think that the four of us are a force to be reckoned with. The next record, I think we’ll take it even further. We’ll get even more into the psychedelic creepy stuff. Get a little more towards Radiohead meets Duke Ellington. That’s really what I hear in my head. A thousand harps and multiple drum kits. Just big. I just want people to think when they see the Complex that it’s going to be good. Just like I did with the Pumpkins.”

By opening himself up to positive energy and by surrounding himself with the love and faith of friends, band mates, fans, and family, Jimmy Chamberlin has struck karmic gold. Coming off of the precipice of death itself seems to have changed him spiritually, personally, and especially musically over the years. It’s this overwhelming sense of joie de vivre that emanates from Chamberlin that makes Life Begins Again so special. It would be wonderful if more music came from such an enchanting place as this.

Source: The Machine Somehow

FLIPSIDE INTERVIEW WITH JIMMY CHAMBERLIN, JANUARY 1994

Well, this one’s kind of short because the lady from Virgin records told me on Monday that I would be interviewing Smashing Pumpkin’s bassist, at 9 a.m. So, I wrote out 30 questions for her and then was awakened by the phone on Wednesday by drummer, Jimmy Chamberlin. So I was forced to try and pick out some questions meant for D’arcy that could also be asked of Jimmy and at the same time think up some new ones.

Anyway, Smashing Pumpkins are perched on the brink of success as this interview takes place before their sophomore album, “Siamese Dream,” hits the stores. But, Jimmy Chamberlin seems to be taking it all in stride as does the rest of the band.

It’s a common myth in rock music that the drummer of the band is just along for the ride, but if anyone breaks that stereotype, it’s Jimmy. He is just as concerned about the direction the band is heading in as is Billy Corgan, the main songwriter and helmsman of the Pumpkins. But, also apparent from talking to Jimmy is that Billy is not the “man in charge” as he is so often made to be in the press. As a matter-of-fact, after reading the recent Alternative Press interview with the Pumpkins, one would think the band is on the verge of breaking up, but it is obvious from talking to Jimmy that the band is happy with the way things are going and excited to see how the world reacts to their latest piece of art.

So, with a little help from MTV and a major label, Billy Corgan, James Iha, D’arcy and Jimmy Chamberlin may just step up into the mainstream music scene, whether their current fans like it or not.

Karl: Why did you decide to record down in Georgia?

JC: Basically for the warmth. (laughs). We made the last record in Madison (Wisconsin) and it was so freezing. Being cold and having to run from a van to the studio in the morning all the time is not very conductive to creativity. For one thing, we were like, the next record we’re doing it somewhere warm. And another reason is we didn’t want to do it in L.A. or New York because obviously it’s too close to the industry and we’d have people out everyday; different record people. And Chicago being home, there’s just way too many extraneous distractions so…

Karl: Are there a lot of record company people putting pressure on the band to do things their way?

JC: No, absolutely not! We actually… our A&R guy was in the studio one day out of the four months. It made us so uptight that we told him not to come back. The great thing about it was when we did Gish, everybody had low expectations. The record company was pretty much predicting that, “Well, if this record sells 30,000 then we’ll be fine.” (actually it sold around 650,000 copies.) So the fact that the record did so well gave the record company confidence that we could pretty much put a record out on our own and make a decent record.

Karl: You spent three months down there?

JC: We spent four months recording and one month mixing.

Karl: What took so long?

JC: There were a lot of problems with the fact that we had to write most of the record on the road. So we pretty much went down there at the last possible minute and we were still pretty much half cocked. So we were doing a lot of arranging in the studio and basically we would do things like record a track and then move on to something else and then go back and listen to the track we had recorded and just go, “Man, we gotta do something about this part.” We’re very meticulous when we record, so we don’t really let anything slide by. Plus we recorded 20 songs.

Karl: Are you all individually particular about recording or is it just Butch Vig and Billy? Are you all perfectionists?

JC: I have my rules when it comes to the drum sound. I won’t deal with anyone who’s gonna put a lot of reverb on my snare. I like drums really dry and natural. I like it to sound like drums. And as far as execution we’re very particular. It’s gotta be perfect. You’re paying all this money and you have the opportunity to do things perfect so why not do it perfect? As far as production, those two guys are nuts… We have songs on the record that there are 40 tracks of guitars on.

Karl: I was reading the Alternative Press interview with you guys and you spoke about it there.

JC: Yeah, it’s pretty crazy. It’s really stressful. It’s hard to be in a studio and know you’re spending all this money and go, “o.k. Turn on the creative machine, now.”

Karl: Are you really happy with the way the album has turned out?

JC: Oh, absolutely.

Karl: Do you like it better than Gish?

JC: No, I don’t like it better. They’re each beautiful records in their own way. It’s like: “Do you hate your life when you were 18 or do you hate your life when you were 24?” It’s hard to say because it’s still you.

Karl: Do you think that your sound has changed a lot?

JC: I don’t think that it’s really changed. I think maybe it’s become more centered. It’s a little bit more niche oriented now than it was. There might have been a little more schizophrenia on Gish than on this record. Even though I think the diversity in as far as the strings and the slow songs is different and even thought the diversity as far as the parameters of the music is different, I think the over all sound is much more centered.

Karl: It feels a lot heavier to me. But, that’s what the B-sides from Gish were like…

JC: Right. You could kind of see it if you listened to the B-sides and then the “Singles” thing. It was kind of like a natural progression.

Karl: Drown was a really cool song.

JC: I listen to Gish now and I can’t even hear the bass. And it used to be such a kicking record. We actually went back and remastered it.

Karl: Oh really? Are you going to re-release it?

JC: Not in a re-release fashion per se. We’re just going to make it so that the records that come out now are slightly different. The discs that are printed now are a little more beefed up. But it’s not going to be like a, “Oh remastered,” so that everyone has to go out and buy it. It’s not really that different. It’s more like if you recorded it and heard it as many times as I have, you’d be able to tell the difference.

Karl: It’s more important to you.

JC: Right…

Karl: One of the things my friends and I have noticed is that you’re drumming has moved to a more straightforward type of… it’s more downbeats and not a lot of syncopated fills and stuff like that.

JC: Yeah, well the thing I did… Gish was everybody’s chance to say, “Hey, I’m a good musician,” And even in spite of that I always try to play in terms of the song. To be a good drummer is not just to be able to play songs like Geek or Tristessa. I think playing songs like Spaceboy and Soma are just as important if not even more important. So, it wasn’t really a conscious thing. It was more like, “let’s at least try and trim some of the self-indulgent fat off the drumming.” There’s a lot of perdisms on Gish and some of the stuff to me sounds pretty ridiculous now so I…, It wasn’t really something where I went and said, “I’m going to play more like John Cougar’s drummer on this record.” It was more like figuring out what is more important for the song. A lot of times just a couple snare flams will accentuate a lot more than if you did some blazing fills.

Karl: That’s funny, because for Gish, I never got the feeling anyone was trying to show off. It all seemed to fit and it was so different from what everyone else was doing.

JC: Yeah, it does all fit, but when I hear it now it’s like, “God damn. There’s so much going on.” Even though there’s a lot going on this record, I think it’s a little bit more mature.

Karl: I think that’s kind of fun though, sometimes with bands you keep going back to the album and listening and each time you discover something new buried deep down in the production. There’s something new that you notice each time you listen to it even if it’s a really obvious drum fill that you never noticed before.

JC: Oh yeah. We really concentrate on putting touches like that on our records. There’s things on this record that I don’t think people will hear for 6 months down the road. That’s always good. It keeps it fresh.

Karl: Who are some of your influences? I’ve read that you’re into the big band stuff.

JC: Let’s see… Lately I’ve been into this stuff like the drummers of Burundi. But, as far as influences… I don’t know… I’m kind of beyond the influencing. I’m more influenced as I get older by the way I feel on any given day than… I remember being 20 years old and going to rehearsal and whatever record I had listened to that day, that’s who I sounded like. Those days are pretty much gone. I think now I have the technical proficiency to convey my emotions more so than saying, “I want this song to sound like Jodi Stevens.”

Karl: I don’t know if you want to go into this, but according to the Alternative Press interview, you got out of drug rehab.

JC: Yep.

Karl: So how did that go?

JC: Cool. That was basically a gift from the band. The band had lost sight of why we were in a band. What happens is that at some point it doesn’t matter what you do, people are going to treat you the same and people don’t know what’s going on in the band. So people treat you as if though everything is going great and they don’t know… They don’t know that things are going wrong with the band. The pressure of the record and all that other crap. It’s the same old story. But, basically what happened was the band, finally after two years of me being a total fuck-off… all I would do, because I’ve been playing (my instrument) the longest in the band and I had lost sight of the fact that this band really needs to practice and all this other shit. So I would just show up and I would be able to play all of my parts but nobody else would be into it. So after awhile the band had the guts to come up to me and say, “Look man, you’re fucking wasted out of your mind and we love you and we don’t want this to happen. Maybe you don’t know it, be we know it.” And I knew it but, at some point when you don’t acknowledge somebody’s self-destructiveness you are kind of condoning it. So that’s kind of how I felt and when they finally sat me down and said, “Listen, we really love you and we care about you and let’s make a great record, let’s try and put some merit and some value on the rest of our lives,” it all became very clear. So I went to L.A. and went through a detox thing and came out and I’ve basically been clean since then and the band gets along great. Things have changed so much that I look back on those days and it seems so fucking silly.

Karl: I think that’s cool that you looked at it as a gift, that you care about each other. A lot of people would be so offended about being approached by other people about their problem.

JC: Right, and maybe a year ago I would have been. I would have been like, “Fuck you guys. I can play circles around you guys,” or whatever. Some attitude or ego thing. At some point you realize that these people love me and they’re being sincere. And the great thing about the pumpkins is that people misconstrue the band all the time and they think this band is this thing that constantly fights and constantly is on edge. But the fact is, we’re probably four people who don’t love anyone else in the world more than we love each other. And the fact that we fight like boyfriend and girlfriend a lot, it’s just all part of a relationship.

Karl: Do you think that the press tries to promote those issues about you? Because the whole feel I got with the AP interview (which was the only recent interview out at the time) was that you are four individuals and even though they tried to downplay Billy as the leader, they made it sound like everybody was just there for the ride and the three of you all go your separate ways…

JC: That’s dumb. The press is so into scandal and they want me to be a drug addict. That’s what I mean about people wanting to perpetuate the rock myth. Not only do I have millionaire drug dealers wanting me to hang around and be cool with them, but I got to read interviews and realize that an interview that says I’m a drug addict will sell more records than if I say that I’m a boring person and I stay home and clean my house all the time. So, yeah, I think they totally try and capitalize on that. There were things in that interview that were said in confidence…

Karl: That’s the feeling I got.

JC: That sucks. It’s not like I trust journalists anyway so… We’ve had a lot of troubles with that. We just had a Sun Times interview come out where this guy totally construed everything we said and made it sound like we were arguing with each other when in actuality we had all done the interview separately, so he would print a question and then give all of our answers and if they were conflicting it sounded like we were sitting around a table and we did the interview a week apart. So they try to capitalize on it.

Karl:: Well that’s a good thing about being in Flipside; it’s all Q&A so I can’t throw anything or take anything away so… you can trust me.

JC: (sarcastically) Yeah, I’ve heard that before. (laughs)

Karl: Well I’m still 22 and I haven’t been jaded by the world yet. And I’m doing this for free.

JC: Oh, then that’s o.k.

Karl: Are you excited about becoming really successful? You’ve had a great deal of success already but this album could put you over the edge.

JC: It’s hard for me to gauge it. Everything that’s happened with the band has been so slow. When you get signed it’s like you get signed and then you wait for nine months and than you go on tour and then you wait and then you rehearse. It’s such a gradual process that it hasn’t affected anybody and I don’t think any of us really thinks about it. I’ve had people come up to me and say, “You guys are going to be huge!” And I’m like, I’m never going to be like, unapproachable. I refuse to not be able to socialize with people because I love people a lot. So, I’m not scared by it. I’m more scared at the magnitude at the leverage the media will have at us being in the spotlight so much more. The leverage they’ll have to maybe manipulate and print falsehoods and construe this bad picture of us. When we were an indie band, nobody gave a fuck if somebody was gay, not that anybody is, but shit like that. It seems like the fact that you might wear women’s underwear (I assume D’arcy does-Karl) becomes a big deal when you get famous.

Karl: How long did it take you guys to get off the ground and really get things rolling? To pull everybody together and get songs written?

JC: The band came together very slowly and we played for about three years. What we did is we got together and said let’s give this a try because Billy’s a good song writer, we’ve got some good player’s in the band, we’ve all got a general direction, we all want to make music, we all want to play our own music so let’s see what’s going on. We kind of got together, started playing some shows and all the money we made from shows, we put in the bank. We didn’t take any money for ourselves over and above traveling expenses and stuff like that. So by the time we did get signed, by the time we recorded Gish we had already started to record the record before we got signed because we had saved up enough money to do it. I hear so many people say, “Wow, you guys came out of nowhere,” and that’s so untrue because we had this great broken down van for three fucking years…

Karl: I remember seeing the thing when you played out here in LA. It looked like an old ice cream truck.

JC: Yeah, exactly. So, people can’t say we didn’t pay our dues. We drove to Seattle one night just to play one show for SubPop. You can’t be in a band and not suffer at some point because when you’re starting out you’re dirt poor.

Karl: That was one of the things that I thought was so cool, I hadn’t heard the album yet except for once, and I saw you at a little club out here called English Acid, and it impressed me that when the show was over and the lights turned on, you all just started taking down your own equipment. You were your own roadies.

JC: (laughing) Yeah! Well here’s the great thing about that show; we had a guest list with REM and all these famous people waiting to get in and then I was late, I was with our manager. So I was trying to get in and the bouncer won’t let me in. He didn’t believe I was in the band. (laughing) I’m like, “Really, I’m the drummer,” and he’s like, “Yeah, and I’m the bass player”.

Karl: I remember the show started really late and they turned the house lights on you wouldn’t stop playing.

JC: Yeah, it was fun. Those were the good ole days.

Karl: So have you always had a general direction you were going in? Did you always have an idea or goal of where you were going?

JC: It can only be planned so much. I’d say that we’ve always tried to maintain an intelligent perspective. We’ve always… When we knew we were going to get signed we decided we weren’t going to be some dumb rock band who gets fucked over by their management or gets screwed by a record label. We’re going to do our homework. So everyone in the band is very much aware of what goes on in the business side of it. That’s really conductive to our maintaining our creative control. We know the business end so well that nobody could really put anything over on us. It’s so sad that there’s so many bands out there that get overlooked and don’t take the time to research their career enough to look into the business side. Because half of the coin is very much a business. You can be an artist. It’s a great life being an artist but the great thing about being on a major label is that so many more people get to hear your record. That’s a great thing.

Karl: So do you think it’s good to follow the path that you did by signing with an indie first and then moving on up to a major?

JC: Oh absolutely. That was another gift for us because if the first record didn’t do so well, then we still have another chance to make another record. That’s basically why we did that.

Karl: So many bands start out on a major label and don’t do so hot…

JC: Well yeah because major labels put maybe a month of promotion into it and then just forget about the record. We didn’t want that to happen. The thing with Caroline is they were… at some point we were pretty much the biggest band they had so we got a lot of attention. There were some really great, great people working there who really did their jobs as opposed to if we were on Virgin right away, who knows… It’s like, “Sorry, the new Lenny Kravitz record just came out so we don’t have enough people to work your record anymore.”

Karl: Getting back to the recording, how do you like working with Butch Vig?

JC: Butch is great. For one thing, Butch is a drummer…

Karl: There’s a bond there.

JC: Yeah, we got the bad drummer bond going. Butch over the years has pretty much become a member of the family. He knows all of us individually. We’ve all gone up to his house and we know his wife. We’ve known him for so long that it seems ridiculous to work with anybody else now… Not that we didn’t think about it. But, the bottom line is that Butch is such a great producer and to start with a new producer and to have to take a month to even get to know the guy before things got cooking in the studio. it seemed really stupid.

Karl: How responsible is he for the sound that you get on the record?

JC: He’s a great… He’s very responsible for some of the sounds. But, the great thing about Butch is he isn’t a manipulator. He’s an interpreter. If you tell him, “This is where I’m going,” then he’ll take it in that direction, but in the Butch way. So he is definitely responsible for the natural sound of the drums, but I think he and Billy are pretty much an equal team.

Karl: So he pushes you to find your own sound as opposed to trying to create something.

JC: Oh yeah. He can be a total slave driver in the studio. Especially to me, being a drummer. He’s like, “Oh, I think you’re a little behind on that.” He’s really, really meticulous. And we did that song Mayonaise and he kept going, “I just want this song to flow all the way through. No thorns on the bush.” I’m going, “Jesus fucking Christ! How smoother can I play it?” I played that song more than I played any other song on the record. I swear I did 15 takes on Mayonaise. And it’s such a long song. After awhile I just wanted the thing to be over.

Karl: Do you ever overdub any drum parts?

JC: No, never… I never do. Maybe percussion, tambourine and stuff like that.

Karl: I don’t pay that much attention to it but my friends that play drums hear your stuff and say, “God, I swear he must overdub some of that stuff.”

JC: No, I never have. For one thing, we always fight over how many tracks we have anyways… So there’s never enough drum tracks to do drum overdubs. All the drum kit stuff is live. But, some of the stuff, like on “Today,” I played the loud part with one snare drum and then we stopped and we got out my Radio King, 1940 Gene Kruppa model snare, and for the quiet parts I used this real old big band snare and we edited that.

Karl: Is your drum set, set up differently than normal? A double bass or two snares?

JC: No, well, I’ve got a weird tom configuration, but that’s about it. But, this record is the first record… I bought one of those DW double bass drum pedals and I’m totally inept at it, totally horrible but I used it on that song “Quiet.” I think I used it in one part and if you listen to it, it sounds kind of fucked. (laughs).

Karl: Well, I guess that does it.

JC: Alright, Karl. Take it easy. Maybe I’ll see you when we play in L.A.

Source: Starla.org

ORIGIN OF NAME: Gene Simmons came to us in a dream and said: “Joe Strummer is a pumpkin, drunken and smashed.”
FIRST PUBLIC APPEARANCE: Billy and James in a Polish bar called Track, 1988.
FIRST BROADCAST: WNUR Radio, Chicago, 1988.
DISCOGRAPHY-SINGLES: “I Am One”, 1990 (Limited Potential), “Tristessa”, March 1991 (Sub Pop), “Siva”, August 1991 (Hut), “Lull”, January 1992 (Hut), “Peel Sessions”, June 1992 (Hut), “I Am One”, August 1992 (Hut)
ALBUMS: “Gish”, May 1991 (Caroline). Re-released by Hut in August 1991.

NAME: William Patrick Corgan
BAND POSITION: Vocalist and guitarist
BORN: Chicago, 1967
OTHER OCCUPATIONS: Poet, philosopher, box maker, bricklayer
MUSICAL INFLUENCES: Salvador Dali, Walt Disney
FAVOURITE SINGLES: The Sweet: “Action”, Gene Clark: “So You Say You’ve Lost Your Baby”, Santa & Johnny: “Sleepwalk”
FAVOURITE ALBUMS: Beatles :”Rubber Soul”, Black Sabbath: “Master of Reality”
FAVOURITE BANDS: My Bloody Valentine, Chainsaw Kittens, Skunk, Mercury Rev, Thin Lizzy
FAVOURITE SONGWRITERS: David Bowie, Marc Bolan, Phil Lynott
FAVOURITE FILMS/TV SHOWS: “Citizen Kane”, “8 ½”. I don’t watch television.
BIGGEST INFLUENCE ON CAREER: Pain, violence, love
RESIDENCE: Chicago, Illinois, USA
MAKE OF INSTRUMENTS: Rigole TTO

NAME: James Jonas Jaded Iha
BAND POSITION: Guitarist, chess player, trombonist
BORN: Chicago, March 26 1968
MUSICAL CAREER: Astro and The Go Go Girls, Snake Train
OTHER OCCUPATIONS: Student dog owner, domestic specialist
MUSICAL INFLUENCES: Syd Barrett, Big Star, Rolling Stones, Gram Parsons, Neil Young, Morricone
FAVOURITE SINGLES: Courtney Love: “Highlights”, Rolling Stones: “Tumbling Dice”, Byrds: “Chestnut Mare”, Sonic Youth: “Starpower”
FAVOURITE ALBUMS: Beatles: “White Album”, Pussy Galore: “Sugar Shit Sharp”, My Bloody Valentine: “Isn’t Anything”
FAVOURITE BANDS: Rolling Stones, Big Star, Hole, Queen, Byrds
FAVOURITE SONGWRITERS: Kevin Shields & Bilinda Butcher, Gram Parsons, Neil Young, Kurt Cobain, Lennon & McCartney
FAVOURITE FILMS/TV SHOWS: “The Thing”, “Manhattan”, “Star Trek: The Next Generation”, “Fawlty Towers”
BIGGEST INFLUENCES ON CAREER: Snake Train, Smashing Pumpkins
RESIDENCE: Chicago, Illinois, USA
MAKE OF INSTRUMENT: Gibson, Marshall

NAME: Darcy
BAND POSITION: Bass guitarist
BORN: Michigan, May 1 1968
EDUCATION: Got no education
MUSICAL CAREER: Classical violin and oboe player
FAVOURITE SINGLES: Flaming Lips: “Everyone Wants To Live Forever”
FAVOURITE ALBUMS: Beatles: “White Album”, Jesus And Mary Chain: “Psycho Candy”, Nirvana: “Bleach”
FAVOURITE BANDS: Beatles, Pussy Galorem Nirvana, Stooges, Queen, Rolling Stones
FAVOURITE SONGWRITERS: Billy Corgan, Syd Barrett, Lennon/McCartney, Kurt Cobain
FAVOURITE FILMS/TV SHOWS: “Star Trek”, and bad B movie up to the Seventies
BIGGEST INFLUENCES ON CAREER: People I hate
RESIDENCE: Chicago, Illinois, USA
MAKE OF INSTRUMENTS: Fender P Bass

NAME: Jimmy Chamberlin
BAND POSITION: Drummer
BORN: Chicago, June 10 1964
EDUCATED: Joliet Catholic High School, Northern IL.
MUSICAL CAREER: JP & The Cats, Eddie Korosa’s Polka Party
OTHER OCCUPATIONS: Carpenter
MUSICAL INFLUENCES: Any Big Band Jazz (Ellington, Goodman)
FAVOURTIE SINGLES: Turtles: “Happy Together”, Beastie Boys: “Funky Boss”.
FAVOURITE ALBUMS: Benny Goodman: “Sextet”, Buddy Rich: “Big Band Machine”, Jazz Crusaders: “Tough Talk”, Beastie Boys: “Check Your Head”
FAVOURITE BANDS: Pantera, Helmet, Squeeze, Crowded House, Pixes, Red Hot Chili Peppers
FAVOURITE SONGWRITERS: Difford & Tilbrock, Tim Finn
RESIDENCE: Chicago, Illinois, USA
MAKE OF INSTRUNMENT: Yamaha drums, Zildijan, Vic Firth sticks

Click below for a larger image.

 
Many thanks to the wonderful Kathleen for typing out this interview!

Billy Corgan talks about the benefit tour, the band, Adore, the state of rock in 1998 and himself.

The band interviewed at the MuchMusic awards in Toronto, Canada.

• See full article scan (19MB .pdf file)

(t)here Magazine, Summer 1999 by Billy Corgan and Yelena Yemchuk

 
Louise
She rode in a ghost train all the way from Indianola hoping to find love among the lace + steel of the big apple (go figure). She always felt some sort of nascent guilt that only seemed to complicate her battles with emphesema [sic] but she had skininess [sic], and she had promised dooley her boyfriend that she would think of him always. But secretly she knew she’d forget him between the French cigarettes + paused kisses. The demons eternal – a song drummed on her like a muddy river – her banks inviting but always an inescapable muck. Someone once told her she would make a difference + unfortunately she had believed them. So she beat the slick pavement in Chinese slippers – humming “scary monsters, super creeps”, silently to herself – wondering if she’d get that job calling invalids posing as a cripple herself – insert chuckling irony here -
 
Rasputin
He’d recently stumbled upon a job at a sino/italinan restaurant, his main job being noodle separation/preperation. It was a no job, because he kept wanting to say no to whoever asked him to do anything. He’d seen having dreams (feel plot shift) that he’d seen having an affair with a lesbian princess who was using him as a denial device for both her own impotent husband + her raging lust – It (as the lust was referred to) revved its little voice when [she(?)] fucked the court cook at age 7 – and the fire had burned ever since – Rasputin felt her in his dreams – the stalking of his psyche by a betrayed nation – he felt the call like a radio attennae [sic] but nothing is his sino/Italian supported his vainglory dreams of importance, it made him so sad – to be trapped in a Zabruder [sic] loop of time dysfunction – but what could he do?
 
ducky wucky!
Who is ducky wucky everyone wanted to know show? Where did she come undone from – her mask fastened to her bed head at such a young age that she’d forgotten the feel of her own fleshy face (a pretty face she’d been told once). She was now a lucky ducky wucky to receive so much deflection attention. Some figured she was Australian, but it was just the way the mask made her funny bunny voice sound filtered thru the layers of paper mache! It started innocently enough – strangers with wax, then [love (?)] with stilts peaks of latex novelties meshing with consecrating flesh. To many ducky wucky was a throbbing temple – to be worshipped [sic] + revered for her tolerance to pain – but what no one understood is that without the eyes for them to see there is no pain really truly. They could hide behind ducky wucky’s mask better than lucky ducky wucky could even hope to / blve -
 
Fay + the ice cream story
Fay had eaten ice cream only once, and to those that knew her, it was a factoid that addled many a dinner conversation to near frenzy with questions and witty quips – debutantes would turn and beseech fay – “have you never had almond or green tea or even chocolate ice cream?” to which fay would reply – “no” (eyes darting) only vanilla – the easy connection to make in this narrative is that fay led a wink-wink vanilla life – but this was not true – she was allergic to ice cream – which led to a whole series of events – linked fortuitously like in a good movie that let to fay contemplating her own suicide. Not that she’d ever kill herself – she was too beautiful for that, but she took great amusement in practicing – how would they find me? Should the note be short/long a Yeats poem perhaps – maybe a Japanese haiku – no one understands fay -
 
 
Many thanks to Geo & Billy for this beautiful gift!
Also, thank you to the wonderful Kathleen for typing out these stories.

Clips of the press conference held on behalf of the band raising money for the Street Outreach Services in Toronto followed by an interview with Billy and James conducted by Byron Wong.

Short interview with Billy Corgan conducted in Toronto, Canada.

In this video, there is behind the scenes footage of the band’s performance on MuchMusic. There are staff meetings regarding the bad weather and interviews are conducted with members of the crew and production team.

The band are interviewed in London before their ‘Five Night Stand’ performance at Shepherd’s Bush. They talk about the recording of Adore, the state of the band and their situation of being without a permanent drummer in the band.

Billy Corgan was interviewed by Carolyn Weaver for the program ‘Fine Print’ in Canada. Billy talks very openly about his poetry book ‘Blinking With Fists’, several of the poems individually as well as some personal experiences that occurred in his life.

A rare solo interview with D’arcy, recorded around the time of their shows in Argentina on the 21st. D’arcy speaks mainly about how the band approached touring to promote Adore aswell as the benefit concerts.

Sometime in 1996, Richard Milne rebroadcast on his WXRT-FM show Local Anesthetic, part of an interview he initially conducted with Billy Corgan in Chicago 5 years prior.

Triple J broadcast a recovery special of the band’s performance on June 19th. The   footage was interspersed with interview clips and fans waiting to enter the venue talking about the band. Triple J interviewed Billy Corgan and James Iha at the International Shipping Harbor at Circular Quay in Sydney, Australia. At one point Billy picks up the interviewer and jokingly pretends that he’s going to throw her into the water.

Several short interview clips that were included on a Delabel promo VHS, also included is a short clips of the Adore recording sessions.

An interview with the band before their performance at the Cannes Film Festival, the interviewer asks the questions in French with the aid of a translator. Billy wears his jacket, as seen in a famous promotional photo-shoot.

Short interview Billy, D’arcy & James the day before their performance at the Grammy’s, the video also includes a short clip of the band rehearsing 1979 at the Madison Square Garden.

CNN report of the show, the video includes an interview with the band aswell live footage.

MTV News report on the band, the video includes old interview and news recordings aswell as live and rehearsal footage.

MTV News report on Jonathan Melvoin’s overdose. The video also includes interviews with Billy, James & D’arcy aswell as clips from various live performances.

Short clip of an interview with the band recorded on MuchMusic in Canada, Billy talks briefly about the recording of Mellon Collie

The band interviewed by MTV News before their performance at the Reading Festival. The video also includes clips of Cherub Rock, Zero, Today and Jellybelly from their set on the day.

Billy Corgan hosts MTV’s 120 Minutes live at Lollapalooza in Las Vegas. Included are clips of Billy interviewing James & D’arcy.

James & D’arcy interviewed by MuchMusic in Toronto, ON, CA.

Interview with Billy and James recorded before their performance at Lee’s Palace, Toronto, ON, CA. Includes a clip of Tristessa performed that night.

Fuse.TV Interviews by Joe Lynch and Steve Pavlopoulos, December 2012

Billy Corgan Praises Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Inductees Rush & Heart

When Billy Corgan was in town for his band Smashing Pumpkins’ benefit concert in Brooklyn, the alt-rock icon stopped by to talk about the recent announcement of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductees, especially his two faves: Prog masters Rush and girl rockers Heart.

“Rush deserve to be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for these reasons,” explains Corgan. “They’re one of the most influential bands to get musicians to pick up their instruments and play at a high level. They have some of the best lyrics in rock history. They stand alone in terms of sound and style. Their commercial value has been under appreciated; they’ve packed arenas for 30-something years.”

For Corgan’s complete thoughts on Rush and Heart, watch the video below.

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan reacts to Rush and Heart being inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Smashing Pumpkins’ Billy Corgan: “Pop Music Is Just Porn Now”

As the singer-songwriter in Smashing Pumpkins, Billy Corgan obviously has a way with words. Thankfully for us, the alt-rock legend doesn’t limit his gift for a memorable turn of phrase just to music.

For instance, when we asked Corgan to give us his take on the current state of pop music, he offered this unforgettable comparison: “Pop is just porn now—it’s just people competing for cum shots.”

“It’s like looking into a hall of mirrors where all you see is other mirrors,” Corgan tells Fuse. “It gets to the point where it’s not fun anymore. I can’t even hate on it as fun because it’s so nothingness. Maybe the next Michael Jackson or Madonna or even Lady Gaga can transcend the genre, but I really doubt it.”

Even if Corgan’s take on pop music is divisive, he wants his recently-opened tea house Madame Zuzu’s to be anything but that. “I don’t want it to be ‘the hip spot’ where grandma walks in and says, ‘This isn’t for me,’” Corgan explains. “I’m sick of people getting niche-d out, I think that gets boring real fast. I wanted a place where artists can come and co-mingle in a community sense… where they can come together to create and develop new projects.”

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan talks about his band’s “Oceania” tour and explains why current pop music is irrelevant.

Source: Fuse.TV

Fuse.TV Interviews by Joe Lynch and Steve Pavlopoulos, June 2012

Billy Corgan: “You Can’t Kill Me Off With Bad Press”

Billy Corgan, the Smashing Pumpkins mastermind who is never at a loss for words, talked to Fuse about his longevity in the music industry despite the media drubbings he sometimes takes for speaking his mind.

“I’ve survived the holocaust of when your career is supposed to go away and never come back,” Corgan tells us. “Like when I put out Siamese Dream, I thought it was a great f**king record, but it got sh*tty reviews. Now it’s a classic, so whose opinion was right? If I said it at the time, I was an arrogant prick. But here I still am.

“You can’t kill me off with bad press. That’s already been attempted. No amount of feuds with other bands is going to do any difference. The music is the thing that endures.”

Speaking of music, Corgan is not too impressed with today’s retro-centric music scene. “I’m sick of this cozy relationship rock n’ roll has with its own past. It’s really gross. It’s not the way rock n’ roll was built. Rock n’ roll was a destructive force and that what it’s supposed to be.”

In other interview clips, he talks about how pro wrestling influenced his “bad guy” public persona and why Western culture can’t produce the next rock revolutionary.

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan talks about which part of his history he finds cringe inducing and why he doesn’t care about bad press or feuds with other bands.

Billy Corgan Thinks Western Culture Can’t Produce the Next Rock Revolutionary

“The last 10 years in rock n’ roll has been very, very difficult to watch because it’s basically turned into a bunch of McDonald’s commercials,” Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan tells Fuse. “That’s why I get very argumentative with the indie class, because if you don’t let [indie] bands rise up to the mainstream, that’s what you get… [when] you get precocious and keep it in New York or Seattle.”

Aside from deriding the exclusivity of indie culture, Corgan believes the music of the 2000s lacks the power to actually change the world in the way previous eras of rock music could.

“What is it producing in the way of great world-changing music? It’s not. Because it’s not designed to do that, hence the biggest advancements in rock n’ roll are electronic music. Because it’s existing off most people’s radar, in clubs and underground situations. It’s not with guys and girls with guitars.”

Corgan says you can’t even point to one example of a genre-crossing musical genius in 2012. “It should be easy to identify a twentysomething right now who’s getting it done. And there isn’t a single one of them. At that level—at the level of a Kurt Cobain, John Lennon or Bob Marley. [The next one is] going to show up somewhere where no one anticipates. The next one is going to be in India, Africa, or China and it’s going to blow us out of the water, because it’s going to be a real movement with real power behind it.”

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan talks about the difference between “popular” and “influential” music and how the next form of world-changing music will come from India, Africa or China.

Billy Corgan Is A Rush Fanboy

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan isn’t always talking about pissing on Radiohead or dissing Pavement—he has some nice things to say sometimes, too. During our recent interview with the always outspoken Corgan, he revealed his softer side by admitting his superfan tendencies for Rush.

“They’re such great guys and such giving people, so I feel very comfortable to talk to them. And they’re nice enough to indulge my fanboy-type stuff,” Billy said about the Canadian prog-rockers after recently getting the chance to interview them. And then he went on and on about how cute they are. Just kidding.

Billy also managed to turn a conversation about Rush into a metaphor about the state of the music industry today. (He’s really good at that, actually.) “With a band like Rush, you’ve got all these albums you can debate. ‘This period, that period, his voice here, this lyric there…’ A band like that has an incredible amount of information which fits perfectly into the social media world… If you’re an a**hole with one song and one idea, you won’t go five minutes into the social media world because once that’s explored, there’s nothing else for you to do.”

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan talks about why he’s such a Rush fanboy and why the band has been dismissed by the “critical class.”

Billy Corgan Stokes Fire in Long-Running Pavement Feud

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan is not particularly pleased with the way his musical contemporaries are sliding into old age—he believes touring behind vintage material is symptomatic of putting financial security ahead of artistic growth.

“My point of having a problem with nostalgia acts for the grunge generation is that it subverts the original meaning of grunge, which is rebellion,” Corgan tells Fuse. “We need those artists to step up and take on the social issues that are going on right now, and they’re choosing an economic model over a socio-political message. So as far as I’m concerned, f**k em—they’re lazy or scared.”

Corgan offered us an example of what he’s railing against. “No better case than Pavement. Complaining about me in the ’90s [a lyric from "Range Life" attacked the Smashing Pumpkins], now out doing the greatest hits tour. Why? Ka-ching. Cashing in. Maybe that’s why they were obsessed with integrity because they didn’t have any.”

Now before you cry foul on Corgan—who does play vintage hits in concert these days—listen to his explanation as to why the Pumpkins’ approach to their old material is still artistically fresh.

“We play just as many old songs as any other band, and we should,” Corgan admits. “I understand people come to the shows and they want to hear those songs. It’s just when that becomes the main story [that it's a problem]. If that becomes the story, I’m dead as an artist and there’s no future for my band. I’m nothing but a rodeo clown doing the act I did 25 years ago. That’s not why I got into this.”

Corgan cites Roger Waters’ touring resurrection of Pink Floyd’s The Wall as a prime example of how to keep classic material relevant.

“I just went to see Roger Waters do The Wall for the second time—that’s a work from 1979—and he didn’t play but one new song in the entire set. But he’s re-contextualized the work to have a modern air. He’s talking about everything from Apple to Gulf Wars and all this stuff. He’s updated it for modern audiences. That’s the same thing that we do. [Our shows are] not a sentimental, ‘Let’s go back to the old days.’ F**k the old days—the old days weren’t that great.”

To hear Corgan talk about how artists and rockers “can really change sh*t up from the outside” when it comes to government and culture, watch the video below.

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan talks about how it hurts him to see musical acts surviving on nostalgia and why sentimentalism is destroying the music industry.

Billy Corgan: “I Didn’t Forget How to Make Commercial Rock”

As fans of the Smashing Pumpkins know very, very, very well, Billy Corgan doesn’t regurgitate press release soundbites during interviews—the alt-rock giant speaks his mind with incisive candor. So when Fuse sat down with Corgan to talk about the Pumpkins’ new album Oceania—what some critics are calling the band’s best album since the 1990s—he offered up some insightful, rabble-rousing commentary on the music industry today.

“All these bands [are] touring on their old albums and everyone saying it’s great. No, it’s not f**king great, it’s terrible for the business overall,” Corgan tells us. “It actually diminishes the power of young artists, because how are they going to compete with their one song against the classic album? It’s [old artists] clutching the edge. Nobody wants to fall into the abyss, but Smashing Pumpkins, we decided to fall into the abyss. The phoenix aspect of Oceania exists because we were willing to fall into the abyss and walk away from the easy part of the business.”

Corgan explains why the revamped Pumpkins aren’t willing to desperately rehash the sounds of their heyday. “When you have a band that has a legacy, people automatically assume [new material] is going to sound like what they’re familiar with. But then you’re competing with their memory—and when you’re competing with a memory you can never win.” Fair point.

“People assume I forgot how to make commercial music or mainstream rock n’ roll,” Corgan says. “I never forgot. I pioneered some of the things that still exist, that people still use in alternative radio, as far as how they make their singles and the sounds they use. I didn’t hit my head and forget all those things: I just didn’t feel like doing those things because I didn’t see where it was really working. Once I had enough information to bring something new to the table, that’s what we did [with Oceania].”

For the full interview with Corgan, including his explanation as to why the Teargarden for Kaleidyscope project could end up being 60 songs, click the video below.

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan talks about the band’s new album “Oceania,” how it fits into their larger “Teargarden by Kaleidyscope” project and why that might be more than 44 songs long.

Billy Corgan on How Wrestling Inspired His “Bad Guy” Public Persona

Smashing Pumpkins’ frontman raised a few eyebrows (something he’s more than accustomed to) last year when he announced his involvement with a wrestling startup called Resistance Pro, but Billy Corgan tells Fuse that his love for the performance sport is hardly out of character.

“I was into [pro wrestling] as a kid, I loved the larger than life [element]. It has had an effect on how I view my job,” says the career rock star. “The pomposity is something I always thought was funny. The wrestling guys can wink their way out of being a bad guy. Well, I’ve been willing to play a bad guy just because I think it’s funny. It’s certainly funnier than being a good guy. And oftentimes in rock n’ roll you find the guys who are perceived as good guys are actually big f**king a**holes behind the scenes. That’s the reason they’re so intent on being a good guy—unconscious guilt.”

Corgan also talks about the enduring appeal of wrestling: “I think there’s part of the American psyche that just wants to have a good time, and wrestling is just a dumb, good time. It’s just fun, it’s a different form of the circus,” he says. “It’s just very crude live theater. Very crude.”

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan talks about the pro wrestling league he co-founded, Resistance Pro Wrestling, and why he loves playing the heel.

Billy Corgan Disses OK Go, Says Videos Today Are “Just Gimmicks”

When we spoke with alt-rock’s most-outspoken frontman, Billy Corgan, he shared his unequivocal thoughts on why two cornerstones of the music industry—the album and the music video—are no longer as relevant as they used to be. He even took a thinly-veiled potshot at viral music video craftsmen OK Go.

“I love videos but they’re just not effective right now… [not as much as] they were, say, 20 years ago,” Corgan says. “Is it the technology? Is it the fact that everyone has access to really good HD cameras right now? Is it that the major labels don’t have the budget to make big budget videos anymore? Are we out of video ideas?”

Corgan also expresses his apathy toward recent music videos, not-so-obliquely referencing OK Go in the process. “Why are the most celebrated videos of the last five years basically just gimmicks as opposed to substantive things that are worth repeating? They’re more like cultural curiosities like, ‘Oh, look! They’re running on the treadmill.’

“I would love to make videos again—I have a good history with videos,” Corgan says, which we heartily concur with. “But at the same time, the system as it exists is, if you don’t have a new single, they’re not going to play [the video]. So if you’re not getting radio play, you make the expensive video and then the systems that play videos don’t play them. So why are we spending all that money? Maybe we should be spending it on something else, like getting a big mouse head or something more fun.”

Hmm… perhaps Corgan will go the deadmau5 route. Maybe rename the band 5mashing Pumpkin5? He also explains why Smashing Pumpkins still make albums, an art form he mostly considers dead.

“I believe the album is dead, absolutely, which sounds counter-intuitive to the message,” Corgan says. “We [the band] still think it’s an effective form of communication, because in our case it’s helping change the perception of the band’s artistic legacy.”

Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan talks about the irrelevance of albums in today’s music industry and how videos aren’t too effective, either.

Source: Fuse.TV

“If a biotech company doesn’t have a drug out within three years, you’re not going to make any money. If they’ve got something in the fire, you have to look at how much the company is worth’”

It’s just past noon, and Jimmy Chamberlin, lighting what has to be his tenth cigarette of the day, is revealing the strategy behind his latest fixation.

“If they’re only worth $300 million, the chances of somebody buying them out are pretty good, unless they’re a subsidiary,” he says. “But you should look for those smaller companies with a lot of growth potential. If you buy early and the company gets sold, you’re going to make some money.”

Suffice to say, Chamberlin has made some money. By his own assessment, he’s “made a killing” since diving into the stock market. Then again, some “inside” tips haven’t hurt.

“I knew a lot about DigiDesign and DigiTech because we use their software for mixing and arranging. I knew it was the best stuff out there,” he reveals. “And I’d heard a rumor that Silicon Graphics was going to buy DigiTech. So when DigiDesign bought Avid, I knew the stock was going to go through the ceiling.”

Now, armed with America Online, an Internet account, and subscriptions to Forbes and the National Investors Business Daily, Chamberlin scarcely finds time for his other diversions – mountain climbing, fishing, driving (his Ferrari), boating, and of late, skeet shooting. But Jimmy officially joined corporate America when he bought five percent of a company that solely develops a medicinal cervical cap for women.

Still, in a sense, he wouldn’t have any of it if he couldn’t rip out single-stroke rolls.

Jimmy Chamberlin grew up in blue-collar Joliet, Illinois, juggling assorted grunt jobs and drum lessons, studying jazz and working his way into a variety of gigs, from show tunes with J.P. & the Cats to local television with Eddie Carossa’s Polka Party. He didn’t tilt toward rock until replacing the machine in Billy Corgan’s fledgling Smashing Pumpkins. Even then, Chamberlin infused the music with an unmistakable flavor of jazz and an embracing of drumming technique.

Grace notes, ferocious fills, cutting rimshots, and sizzling single-stroke rolls – signature Chamberlin licks – weren’t all that common with the “modern” rock drummers six years ago, when the Smashing Pumpkins debuted with Gish. Chamberlin’s talent only came to international attention when Siamese Dream, the 1993 follow-up, went platinum four times over. But as dozens of other, newer groups have since tried copping the band’s formula – frail verse, fiery chorus, frantic finish – nobody has convincingly imitated the Smashing Pumpkins’ swagger and sway.

Tired of the chase, though, the band has taken a stunningly sharp detour with Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, a double album that not only mocks modern rock a cliche, but rails against the monster the Pumpkins helped create. For those reasons, among others, Chamberlin insists this is the band’s last rock effort.

“We’ve always been about originality,” he urges. “We don’t want to be a parody of ourselves. I’m thirty-one now, and I don’t see myself playing “Jellybelly” at forty.”

Still, it’s “Jellybelly” and about two dozen other tunes from Mellon Collie that have the band holed up in the Pumpkin Patch, a rehearsal studio tucked behind one of north Chicago’s many brick facades. With less than a week before leaving for its worldwide tour, the songs are still far from second-nature.

Chamberlin pulls another cigarette from its silver pocket-size case and checks out the new kit Yamaha just shipped him. He asked for a golden pearl covering, but the closest Yamaha could get was a sort of marbled gold paint. He’s been playing on the set all morning, weathering dirty looks from bassist D’Arcy while the drumheads find comfort zones on new bearing edges.

Drum tone, at this moment just prior to leaving on tour, is the least of Jimmy’s worries. There are his stocks, his company, his two Siamese cats, his girlfriend, and the home he won’t see much of until 1997. “Frankly, the band sometimes takes us away from other things we want to do,” the drummer admits. “But if it weren’t for the band, we wouldn’t have these other wonderful things in our lives. I’ve got the boats, the cars, and my corporation, D’Arcy has three antique stores and an apple orchard, James [Iha, guitarist] is modeling now. And all of this took some maturing on our parts to put into perspective. We even sat down and talked about it, trying to keep our heads on straight and realize how lucky we are. We tried not to lose sight that it’s all because of the music.

“For me, it came down to remembering my roots and why I got into music in the first place,” he adds. “I remember the times when I had nothing in my life, and music was what made me happy. It’s such a personal, powerful thing, and I’ve been fortunate enough to make a living at it. And ever since I’ve come to terms with what music means to me, I’ve been better and more committed about everything and everyone else in my life.”

MP: Electronic sounds and sampling are such changes for this band. What inspired you to go that way for Mellon Collie?

JC: Flood [producer] had a lot to do with that, but it was really a conscious decision on our part to move into some new territory. We wrote so many songs for this record – about fifty – and without the benefit of technology and taking different approaches to recording, they might have suffered from a little sameness. With the exception of “Bullet With Butterfly Wings” and “Jellybelly” and maybe one or two other songs, we wrote all the songs within a four-to- five-month period. Even though they were great songs simply from the standpoint of drums, bass, and guitar, when you’re dealing with fifty songs, we felt we had to do something to set them apart.

We finished Lollapalooza and took an astounding three weeks off, which is a really long time for this band, and went right back to work. After fourteen months of touring the band had a certain amount of fire going, and we didn’t want to lose that. This band has such a serious work ethic and, to be honest, a lot of our motivation is based on fear. We know that if we leave each other for a long period of time it might take us weeks to get back in sync. And I don’t know that we would have been so open and eager to move into a new direction if we hadn’t jumped right back into things.

MP: Talk about the process of not only writing fifty songs, but getting them on tape.

JC: We definitely wanted to get everything on this record that the band was capable of in this particular style of music. But we also wanted to take the first steps in really testing our boundaries. That’s why there are songs like “Lily,” the country song. That’s an element of this band that just can’t fit into the framework of a fourteen-song CD. On the flip side, here we’d amassed all this work and half of the songs didn’t have any titles. We were constantly confused – “Well, which song is that?” – and there would be songs we’d just forget. Billy and I got into an argument one time about this one song because he said I was coming in too early. I said, “No, it’s written right here: Come in after one bar.” So we were going back and forth for about an hour, only to discover we were talking about two different songs!

But I think it was a great experience for me as a musician because it forced me to come up with different things to play on different songs. There were times while we were learning and rehearsing when Billy or D’Arcy would say something like, “Jimmy, isn’t that just like the fill you played on ‘Bury Me’?” So I had to challenge myself to veer away from my old standbys – which everybody has – and stretch my creativity. I think that’s what helped me embrace the technology and not limit myself to just the drumkit. I used everything from hair spray to a pair of scissors – whatever was laying around – to come up with different sounds. We used a bottle of aspirin as a shaker. We’d just throw it on tape, sample it, and loop it. You can hear that kind of stuff on “Cupid.” A lot of that had to do with Flood, and without him, I don’t think we would have dove into it nearly as deeply and aggressively as we did.

I think a lot of drummers have a phobia about technology. I went through that phase where I was firmly against drum machines and sampling – it had to be one-hundred percent live, organic drums. I was like that on our previous records. But once I got over that fear, I really liked it. And the bottom line is I’m still playing the parts and it’s still my imagination. It’s just a different interpretation.

MP: But on the whole your drum sound comes off a lot more primitive, almost “fuzzier,” than it sounds on the previous Pumpkins albums. The drums on Siamese Dream sound a lot more “produced.”

JC: Again, it comes back to intentionally doing things differently than we’d ever done them before and pushing ourselves into new creative avenues. Instead of putting two or three mic’s on a drum, we might have just put one mic’ on it and compressed the shit out of it. On “Here Is No Why,” I was trying for a totally dirty sound. So we just hung a little condenser mike above a small jazz kit, right over the snare drum, and placed a mic’ in front of the kick drum – with no hole in the head. Then we compressed the track until the hi-hat was as loud as everything else. The overall effect is this very loose and trashy sound, like an early Beatles type of sound. It has an edge that we couldn’t get from a clean-sounding snare. But other than that, we didn’t fool around that much with the miking. We set up two overheads way at the other end of the room, two above the drumkit, and two in the back corners, and we had those channels available if we needed to get more midrange or whatever. And I really left a lot of that up to the engineers. My main concern was the snare tone.

MP: Are you still as particular as you used to be about the sound of your drums?

JC: Definitely. I’ve always been a control freak when it comes to my drums. The thing is, a tech might tune my drums exactly the way I might tune them. But if I come up with a weird “honk” on the snare, it’s cool because I tuned it that way. If a tech gets that same sound, it’s like, “What the hell is that honk?” It’s not the tech’s fault, but I just save myself and a lot of other people some grief if I do it myself. I still do all of my own tuning in the studio. I still tune my own snares for live shows. I let Tim, my tech, tune the toms and the kick drum. But I don’t mess around when it comes to the snares. If they’re going to sound funky, I want it to be my fault.

MP: You mentioned that you went through a store’s worth of cymbals for the new record.

JC: Sabian has just been great about working with me. I was on the phone with Bill Zildjian [Sabian executive] all the time trying to articulate what I wanted in cymbal sounds. For example, I said to him, “The simplest way I can describe what I’m looking for is the sound you hear when you drop an egg on a hot griddle. That’s the sound I’m looking for.” And he made about twenty sizzle cymbals for me. Some of those cymbals were really interesting and a couple were actual prototypes of new models. With that many choices, though, it’s a crapshoot about what you decide to use and what makes it on the record. If I could live in a drummer’s perfect world, I would add the cymbals after everything else on an album was recorded. Cymbals have their own characteristics. Some sound great in some songs and don’t sound so great on others. And a cymbal that sounds great on its own might really clash with the frequency or the notes coming out of the guitar. Sometimes an old, beat-up trash can or cymbal will be perfect because it fits into the sonic pocket created by the other instruments.

MP: Why did you have Yamaha make you two kits for the new tour?

JC: It’s really cool, actually. We’re not taking out an opening band – at least for the opening leg of the tour – we decided to be our own opening act. The first set is going to be our softer music, where I’ll play the smaller kit. It’s James’ idea to come out in pajamas for that, but I don’t know if that’s going to happen at this point or not. But we’ll play about forty-five minutes of the softer stuff, take a short break, and then come back and play the heavier material, where I’ll use the full kit.

It’s kind of an experiment – we’ve never done anything like that before. We’re excited about it because when you’re concentrating on a rock show, a lot of songs can get lost in the shuffle. And I’ve been playing two kits for quite a while. On the new record I used the big kit for all of the fast rock stuff, and I went to the four-piece jazz setup for some of the more straight-ahead, poppy songs.

Actually, I just got the big kit and I think it might be too big for me to play. I got a 24″ kick with this one, which raises everything in front of me, and my arms are cramping up from having to reach so high from the snare to the toms to the cymbals. So I might take the 20″ kick from the small set and use it with the big set and use my old white kit for the jazz setup.

Who knows, though? Anything can happen on the road. I actually came up with this tom configuration on the road. [Editor's note: Jimmy's rack toms are in a slightly different order, left to right: 14", 10", and 13"]. I just got sick of doing all my fills from the high to low toms, so I wanted to force myself to do things differently and use my left hand more on that lower tom. It’s straight out of the Billy Cobham philosophy.

MP: How do you feel about playing the same parts you recorded on some of the band’s older tunes in concert?

JC: I wouldn’t say I intentionally try to play them differently, but I try not to worry about it a whole lot and get locked into anything. I mean, most of my parts on the earlier records are things that just came out of me when the tape was rolling. If I’d tried to work out some of the fills that are on there before the tape started rolling, I never would have pulled them off and I would have driven everybody crazy, trying for the ten-thousandth take to get it right.

It’s funny, sometimes it seems like I’m a lot more free to play what I want when we’re recording than when it’s a show. Once you do a record and you start listening to it the parts get ingrained in your head and they become concrete elements of the song. There are songs like “Bury Me,” which has the rimshot at the end of it. I never planned it, but it’s become a signature part of the song, and now every time we play it I feel I have to play the rimshot right there. Some of the songs on Siamese Dream I can re-interpret a bit now, but there are songs like “Cherub Rock” where all the fills and flams are etched in stone. That’s one of the things I was thinking | about when we were making the new record. I went in telling myself, “Well, are you sure this is what you want to play? Once you record it, you’ll hear it on the radio, it will be permanently in your head, and then there’s no turning back.” That’s one of the good things about taking a basic | approach to my parts, which I did more of on this record.

MP: What impact did Flood have on your drum parts and sounds?

JC: Butch Vig [producer of Gish and Siamese Dream] really placed an emphasis on the drums, where the drumming had to be perfect. Flood isn’t a drummer, so he goes more for capturing a mood or feel. He doesn’t care if things are technically perfect; he wants it to be emotionally convincing.

Nothing against Butch, because he’s great and he achieved some amazing results for us. But with Flood, I could enjoy the moment more and it didn’t seem like the high-pressure gig that it was. We were doing three or four drum takes a day, and it took us about the same amount of time to do this record as it took to do Siamese Dream, which has half the number of songs. And with the technology – sample, loops, and keyboards – Flood also opened up another avenue for us to go down. I know that for me, personally, it has really expanded my vision. I have a drumKAT at home now and I’m toying with different sounds and coming up with ideas for playing on top of the programming.

MP: Are there any songs on the new record where you really feel you broke new ground for yourself in terms of performance?

JC: If there are, it’s definitely among the slower, softer songs. “Take Me Down” is the first time I’ve ever really been able to do any cool brush work in this band, and I played congas on that tune as well. I really saw that song in a jazz combo vibe, which really takes me back to my early days of drumming. Another different song for me was “1979,” which is a drum loop with me playing over the top of it. That’s the first time I’ve ever done anything like that.

It seemed that since we were introducing a lot of different concepts and sounds on the record, everybody had ideas for the drum parts. It wasn’t just lonely ol’ me back there, left alone while everybody else worried about the music. The drums were treated as an integral part of the music, and we approached the drum parts and sounds from the angle of how they would enhance and blend into the feel we were trying to achieve with the songs.

MP: Some songs on the new record are very typical of your playing style, but I’m really surprised at how straight you play on songs like “Love.” It almost sounds like someone else on the kit.

JC: “Love” was a nightmare to do because we used a drumKAT for the “kang, kang, KANG, kang…kang, kang, KANG, kang.” Since I didn’t use a click, I had to go back and match it on the drumkit. It was really tough. We didn’t try anything like that for any other song. But the spirit behind that drum part is something you will find throughout the record. It wasn’t anything intentional, but it’s more of an honest representation of where I am as a musician. Even though there’s some really great whack-off drum shit on the record, at this stage of the game, I don’t think I have anything to prove on a technical level. It’s true for all of us. Billy’s probably played as fast as he can play – and so have 1, for that matter. It sounds almost cliche to say this, but it really came down to playing what was necessary for the song. In terms of maturity – musically and personally – you learn to play songs for the betterment of the material and not simply to wow your contemporaries. And what can I say, it only took me four albums to get it right!

To be honest, though, as much as I tried to change things up and throw some fresh fills and beats in there, I could probably take you through every song on every album we’ve done and tell you where it comes from drumming-wise – Paice, Bonham, Cobham, Weckl, Bozzio…. I talked to Buddy Rich a long time ago, briefly at one of his concerts, and what he told me was true: A great musician is someone who doesn’t get caught stealing.

MP: But watching you play, it all seems to come so naturally to you. There are fills on the record that sound so physically demanding. yet you make them look as easy to play as 2 and 4. If anything, you seem to labor a bit more at just playing the 2 and 4, like you’re restraining yourself.

JC: Maybe that’s just because you’re used to hearing me throw in a lot of ghost notes, accents, and fills. Before the new record, I’d never really challenged myself with this band to just play straight time. And as for everything else seeming so natural, that’s just because I’ve graduated from page 2 to page 40 of the Stick Control book. I remember thinking the same thing about Ian Paice. I’d listen to a song like “Space Truckin” and hear that unbelievable single-stroke roll at the end. Then I was fortunate enough to see him do it live, and his sticks were so even. And he was so relaxed that he looked like he could have been reading the paper. At the time I was like, “Man, there’s nothing great about that.” But that was only because it didn’t look great.

Speed and endurance are things that don’t come overnight. It takes years to hone those skills, and it’s all practice. If you want to learn how to do something correctly, you have to treat it with respect and give it the time and commitment it deserves. You almost have to treat it like an opponent. You can’t simply play drums for fifteen years and expect to wake up someday and have a blazing single-stroke roll. Buddy Rich didn’t, Billy Cobham didn’t – nobody did. You have to study and practice.

Even now, I meditate and practice relaxation exercises before shows. I go to acupuncture and I have a diet that’s really high in calcium and magnesium to give my muscles the ability to contract and expand. Drumming really takes the discipline of a martial art. Unfortunately, I think all of that is a sort of balancing act for me because I do smoke about a pack and a half of cigarettes a day. My doctor can’t believe it. He told me not to quit smoking because if I did I’d have too much energy.

Once I started doing all of those things, drumming became a lot easier. Natural talent and ability come into it, and I was blessed with some amount of natural talent. But I really believe that we all make the choice of how good we want to be. Still, I don’t feel I’m half the drummer I can be. I’ve grown very comfortable playing Pumpkins songs, but not much else. My meter has improved, but it’s still not my strong suit.

MP: But you’ve carved out a distinct style for yourself, to the point where I think people familiar with your playing can pick you out of a piece of music.

JC: Why, because you can hear the tempo speed up? [laughs] No really, that’s probably what I’m most proud of. I’ve received letters from people who’ve said that once they hear the snare drum, they know it’s me. Kids have written to me and told me they pattern their style after me – which is very flattering, but it’s also pretty scary. You almost start feeling a responsibility not only to live up to your own expectations, but to the expectations of others. But it’s a great compliment and I don’t take it for granted.

MP: When do you find the time to practice?

JC: That’s the problem – there is no time. If we’re not rehearsing, we’re either recording or touring, and as I mentioned we don’t have much down time. So I try to work on things in different parts of songs while we’re rehearsing.

For instance, I just copped this great little fill off of Zappa’s Roxie And Elsewhere album. Chester Thompson and Ralph Humphrey do this tom/bass drum thing during a horn line. It’s just 16th notes, but they’re doing it in unison, although it does “flam” a bit. To play that as one drummer, and get that effect, is pretty difficult. I try to sneak it in whenever we play some fast, whack-off song, like at the end of “Ruby.”

MP: I’ve heard that public expectations are one of the reasons you put out this double CD, that the band felt it had done all it can in this style and that any future Pumpkins records would be a vast departure from the style you’ve done in the past.

JC: Well, we knew from the moment we decided to do this that the critics would just rain down on us: “It’s so self-indulgent.” “It’s so ’70s.” “Nobody makes double albums anymore.” And it wasn’t easy for us to do it. I figured we’d either breeze through it or all have nervous breakdowns, and I know I straddled the line between the two many times.

But one of the driving factors in this was that we didn’t want to make another Siamese Dream, which would have been very easy for us to do. We didn’t want to restrict ourselves to the quiet/loud/ quiet/loud formula of songwriting. We’ve already mastered that, and there are dozens of younger bands out there now who do better imitations of us than we do.

We really saw the tunnel of creativity narrowing for us, and that’s one of the reasons for embracing Flood and all the ideas and technology he brought to us. If you look at the all-time great, bands, they were constantly re-inventing themselves to not only keep things fresh, but to keep themselves interested. And if we hadn’t done this, I don’t know if there would have been much of a future for us as a band. Sure, we could have intentionally made another Siamese Dream and sold five million records, but we have to make ourselves happy, too.

There’s a period every band goes through where they’re either going to self-destruct or overcome it and survive. That turning point for us, I think, was immediately after Gish. We were so overwhelmed with the success. We thought we were rock stars, and that affected how we operated. Band members would show up late for rehearsal or they wouldn’t show up at all. We went through our transition from starving and having no money to having some fame and money, and then going through our depressions, our nervous breakdowns, our drug habits.

I had an emotional breakdown during the recording of Siamese Dream, to where I had to leave the studio for five days. But what turned it around for me, personally, was realizing my love for music. I looked back on all the bike shops I worked for, all of the construction jobs I did, and all the drum lessons I took to get to this point, and I realized it wasn’t worth throwing all of that away on some star trip.

I’m really thankful that I’ve been allowed to go through my battles and still hold onto what’s important. And for me as well as the band, the war is over and we’re through defending ourselves. We don’t have anything to prove anymore. We’re at the point now where we should make the best rock record we can and then move on, and that’s what we’ve done.

MP: It must be scary, though, where you’re about to do what has been reported to be your last rock tour. Are you wondering what’s going to be coming next?

JC: I’m not worried at all about that. I’m sure that if and when the band ends there will be plenty of drum work for me. As much as I love this band, playing with the same people all the time can really be one-dimensional, and you can tend to be locked into a certain style of playing. I mean, it’s been seven years since I played a shuffle. I probably couldn’t play a decent shuffle now to save my ass! That’s why I’m really looking forward to the end of this tour, when we’re planning on taking a year off – which I know won’t actually happen. But at least if we plan on taking a year off, we’ll at least have two or three months off.

I’d like to use the time off to get away from this style of drumming and take some lessons from a good Latin teacher, or go to Trinidad or somewhere and totally immerse myself in a different approach. I’d also like to do some clinics for Yamaha and Sabian. But instead of the typical drum clinic, I’d like to bring along a stand-up bass player and do a jazz combo clinic.

I had a chance to do some other outside things, but I couldn’t make the time because of the band. Charlie Adams, who was my first drum teacher and who has been Yanni’s drummer for years, turned me on to this big band drum solo record that Ed Shaughnessy was doing. Charlie l knew what kind of big band guy I am at . heart, and it would have been a dream- I come-true to play some sort of Gene I Krupa-style solo on that record. But we were doing Lollapalooza and there was no way I could get away.

This tour will tell us a lot about whatever future this band has. I think Billy and I will a do something together, whether D’Arcy and James are a part of that or not. Billy and I have done some remixes together and we even wrote a calypso song once. I’d love to play a decent samba with Billy as the writer. I think he’d be brilliant at it. But if we do make another Pumpkins record I’d like to do it with a completely different kit, play a completely different style, and just turn some heads all over again.

Source: Starla.org

Jimmy Chamberlin says he’s never played in a more jazzy band. That alone might qualify Chamberlin as a bit “whacked” in some people’s eyes–mainly because few would equate crushing, pulsating guitars and acidic, unintelligible lyrics with jazz. But if there’s a hidden catalyst behind Smashing Pumpkins’ rise to the altar of alternative rock, its the exploratory, anything-can-happen aspect of their music. It’s the spirit of improvisation that links them with jazz.

While Smashing Pumpkins have embraced a seemingly free-form approach to performance, their business acumen is nothing short of calculated. A series of smart career moves steered the band out of the underground and into the exact position they’d idealized and worked toward for over five years. The Pumpkins sidestepped major-label pressure, turned down offers to tour on the last two Lollapalooza bills, quietly sold more than 300,000 copies of their hypnotic debut album, teased fans with a great song on the Singles movie soundtrack, and had industry insiders climbing the walls for a follow-up.

All they had to do in 1993 was make music. But that seemingly simple task nearly smashed Chicago’s answer to Seattle and sent Chamberlin and his bandmates individually and collectively into a tailspin. “We felt enormous pressure to make a great record, and it definitely got to us–and to me, personally,” says Chamberlin, now clean and sober after about with substance abuse. “Everybody was worried about the record. Everybody in this band is a perfectionist: We knew we had to make a great record–not for anybody else, but for ourselves.”

Much of singer/guitarist Billy Corgan’s lyrics are still intentionally dreamy and indiscernible, lacing the new Siamese Dream with the airy quality many fans latched onto with Gish, their 1991 debut. The album is actually a more subtle step in musically maturity than it is a sonic departure. If there’s and obvious difference, it comes from Chamberlin. His jazz influences again are apparent. But where he admits to “running amok” with the tempos in Gish, Jimmy consciously welded the meter throughout Siamese Dream, yet still retained much of the energy.

Alternative fans are hailing the Pumpkins as a guiding light. To nobody’s surprise, the new record jumped out of its first week at retail into Billboard magazine’s Top-10. Meanwhile, at twenty-nine, Chamberlin has clearly established himself, alongside contemporaries such as Stephen Perkins and Matt Cameron, as a drummer paving new directions in this genre.

MP: You obviously went out of your way to streamline your playing this time, as opposed to the real loose feel you had on Gish.

JC: I totally did, because I wanted to bring out both sides of this band. We have our anal-retentive, studio side, and we have our balls-out live show. The more the band matures, the more apparent those separate sides are. It was a conscious thing to keep the live feel that was on the last records, but to also take advantage of some things you can also to in the studio. We edited tracks, and I brought in new snare drums for the different verses.

I did all the drum tracks for Gish in four days, and then I sat around for a month and a half while everybody else screwed around with their guitar parts. This time we did two drum tracks and then got the bass and guitar parts down. Then we’d go on to the next song. We pretty much did it one song at a time, which was great for me.

There are a couple of parts where I used a click, like on “Mayonaise.” Its really slow and I wanted it to just glide. I’m still guilty of over-playing on Gish–maybe not over-playing, but the rambunctiousness–is very appropriate because it represents a very young band. I think the immaturity on there has a lot of charm.

MP: Were you happy, though, with the energy on this record?

JC: I think its a very cool-sounding record, and the best I can hope for is that its an accurate representation of my playing at this time and of where I am emotionally. Sure, we were a lot more careful with the record this time, but there are still places on there where I screwed around. I’ll play little fills that just come out of nowhere, like on “Geek USA.” Those are too hard for me to try and pull off again if I’m thinking about them. Then I realize I have to go home and practice this stuff so I can do it live every night.

MP: Did you do a lot of pre-production or personal planning before this record?

JC: A lot. I’d never even played some of the songs on Gish before going into the studio, which was cool in one respect; there was a lot of spontaneity and nervous energy on that record. But we totally went into panic mode before this record, because we didn’t have enough time to write in the two years we were touring for Gish. We found ourselves with five or six completed songs and people from the record company on our backs wondering when we were going to go into the studio.

So we ended up locking ourselves in a rehearsal space for six months and working on nothing but new music eight hours a day. That wasn’t such a stretch for us, though, because we’re very precise these days with our arrangements. We got to the point where we were eighty percent satisfied with the songs before we went into the studio. You can prepare twenty-four hours a day before going in there, but you can lose your objectivity. Some things are going to be different when you get there, and things will definitely change. When you hear things bare on the 24-track, you can tell if the drum track is too raw, if the drums need to be more driving in certain places, or if the vocals need to be pushed. “Geek,” for instance, was completely rearranged once we got into the studio.

MP: What effect did the producer, Butch Vig have on your approach and what you put on tape?

JC: He really keeps me from going overboard on drum production, which is really good, because when the guitars are being layered over for the twentieth time, I naturally want to reach for the reverb to add some body to the drums. Butch is a drummer himself, and he’s very much a purist and likes dry drum sounds. I always say, “Man, the drums just aren’t going to be loud enough.” Then I go away from it for a while, come back, and the drums sound great.

We did work a lot on the drum sound, too–not so much with the miking, but more in terms of heads and placement of drums. We went crazy with snare drums; I used a different one for practically every song. I had about fifteen snare drums next to me when we were recording, everything from a Yahama standard chrome to a 1939 Radio King. On the song “Today,” it’s really heavy, and then it dries out when it comes into the verse, with just the drums and bass. So what I did was play the heavy part with a Pearl 61/2″ chrome Free-Floating snare, which is really a kickin’ snare. Then I stopped the tape and matched up a click track to where I was playing before. We then edited in the verse, which is where i used the Radio King. The drum is so totally dry and crisp that you can barely hear the snares on it. In production, they kind of matched the sounds up a little, but it sounds like night and day on the dry tracks. We also used a click on the end of “Hummer,” where I changed my snare drum and ride cymbal. Instead of using a click arrangement. Then we’ll match up the click to whatever we recorded and use it for the intro and then pull it out.

MP: Doesn’t that kind of ruin any momentum or natural feel you might get if you’d played it all the way through?

JC: It can have that effect. It really depends on the day and how I’m feeling. Some days I can nail it right away, and other days I feel like choking somebody because I’m just not getting it.

“Mayonaise” is probably the hardest we did, even though it’s probably the simplest for drums. I was hearing this gliding sound in my head, but through two days of tracking it, I just wasn’t hearing what I wanted. It wasn’t happening for me. I wasn’t relaxed enough and I was over-thinking parts, but then I just sat down on the third day and did it. Now, listening to the record, I can definitely tell you which songs were recorded on a good day and which were done on a bad day, which ones were done on a Monday and which ones were done on a Friday. [laughs] I don’t think the drumming suffers anywhere, though. It’s just a more honest representation.

MP: But you went out of your way to tighten the tempo this time. All the songs seem to be more in-the-pocket than anything on Gish.

JC: There was the feeling that, “Hey, this is our first major-label record. It’s gotta be consistent.” We didn’t want it to sound helter-skelter. But I’m kind of scared, too, that people will think it sounds like a major-label record. I mean, everything I hear on a major label sounds like it was done to a click. By my own nature, i just hate click tracks and I don’t like to adhere to any set meter the whole way through a song. But I don’t want people to think I waver too much, either.

MP: You mentioned how you changed snare drums often for this record, which I think is kind of funny, because the snare sound on Gish was immediately identifiable. Even though it was your first record, all you had to do was listen to the drums, particularly the snare pop, and know that it was you playing.

JC: Well, I don’t want to become reliant on or known for any one particular sound. I don’t want to use tones to define my sound; I’d rather use technique. I’d rather have somebody hear the song speed up in an area or listen to the way the drums push the vocals–or maybe how the drums can be minimal at one point and blazing the next–and know it’s me and my schizophrenic personality. [laughs]

What I love about Gish is that it’s the result of four people with grandoise ideas about being in a rock band just telling the world everything they know in ten songs. That record stands on its own, but when you get older you want more out of yourself.

MP: What was it like when you first joined, stepping into a band that had only used a drum machine as its drummer up to that point?

JC: It was basically a process of me deprogramming them. I went in with the idea that if they wanted Jimmy Chamberlin to play drums, it wasn’t going to sound like a click track. They used to give me weird looks sometimes. [Bassist] D’arcy would be like, “Gee, could you speed up a little faster?” [laughs] They were so used to this flat tempo that it was hard for them to get used to the music with some movement behind it. But I’ll be the first one to admit that my meter was a problem, even through the last record and tour. It’s always been a challenge for me to not let my adrenaline get the best of me when we play live. We’ve gotten to the point now where D’arcy and I know where each other is coming from, and we can play together pretty effortlessly.

MP: How did being in this band affect your playing, since it was your first real rock situation?

JC: It totally stripped me down at first. At no point did I want those guys to think I was a jazz drummer. I’ve always considered myself a jazz drummer; I still do. But when I first joined, the songs were fairly jangly, and I associated that with 2-and-4 drumming. Billy and I were totally afraid to show each other what we could do. We both could riff out on “Third Stone From The Sun” if we wanted to, but we were pretty conservative. The daring approach came later on, and that’s when songs like “Tristessa” came along. If anything, I was a little more controlled on our earliest stuff then I was later on when we did Gish. You can hear a little bit of apprehension on our tapes from the early days.

MP: Your jazz influences obviously come out in a what you do with the Pumpkins, though.

JC: I don’t see jazz as a swing feel or a bebop feel. I see it more as an emotional representation of somebody through music. And that’s what the Pumpkins are to me. I can pretty much do whatever I want in this band and play to the utmost of my ability. And to me, this is the most jazzy situation I’ve ever been in.

The most obviously jazz-influenced things to come out in my drumming are the dynamics and how they really shape the songs. The songs will be balls-out, and just drop to nothing, and I’ll use things like ghost notes and left-handed ruffs, which are representative of a lot of jazz I listen to.

MP: Did you feel yourself having to play harder and louder then you had before in any other band?

JC: Oh, absolutely. A lot of my finesse really suffered at first, and it was a drag. Now we’re to the point where our shows are bigger and we have better monitors and I don’t have to compete to hear myself. But I still have to kick ass. I believe there’s a happy medium between trying to shove your bass drum down the throat of a concert audience and doing these jazzy, technical things that just get washed out in the mix.

MP: Because of your jazz interests, did you ever play traditional grip?

JC: I had to play traditional grip when I was in drum & bugle corps. But aside from that, I’ve pretty much been a matched-grip player. I have a tendency to play all my crashes with my left hand; I don’t have anything on my right side except my ride cymbal and one China. I do have a cymbal in between my rack toms that I can crash with either hand.

I think it all has to do with breaking my arm–a compound fracture–when i was twelve. I was really into a practicing regimen at the time, but I had to wear a cast for almost a year. Every time I wanted to practice, I had to shove a drumstick inside the cast. And I think it helped me a lot in the long run because I’m fairly ambidextrous now.

MP: How do you think your playing has matured or changed in the two years between records?

JC: I definitely think my tempos are more consistent now, where-as on Gish I really couldn’t play a 2-and-4 for the life of me! But then again, I didn’t really want to. I listen to classical music, and those tempos are always changing. I love that freedom; it’s so cool. But I’ve learned how to really play straight since the last record, and my snare drumming has improved. All I did for the last two years is play, though, so I was bound to get better. After six months on tour, you can pretty much set up you kit blind-folded.

I found that I was looking for things to challenge myself. So I consciously worked on stuff and picked on one particular area and worked on it on tour, before the show or between shows or when-ever–sometimes during the show. Sometimes it was just a matter of thinking about my technique. On the tour with the Chili Peppers and Nirvana, Dave [Grohl], Chad [Smith], and I would warm up in the bathrooms, just banging on the toilets with drumsticks before the show. Stuff like that is fun.

I also did a lot of research, I’ve probably got two hundred more CDs now, and I’ve listened to a lot of world-beat music, like the drummers of Burundi. I don’t think getting better necessarily has everything to do with reading George Lawrence Stone books. I think it has a lot to do with your mental interpretation of music, too. You can’t just work on Stick Control and Syncopation, because that alone will just make you sound like the next Dave Weckl.

MP: But it’s obvious from watching and listening to you that you’ve had formal education.

JC: I got all my technical education when I was younger, going through school and then when I was in college. My brother, Paul, has been a drummer since before I was born, and by the time I was eight years old, I had a record collection that consisted of Ian Paice, Cozy Powell, and a lot of other great drummers. I grew up listening to the best of the best drummers, whether it was rock, big band, or jazz drummers. I appreciated all of it because I couldn’t stand listening to just one style of music as much as I couldn’t stand playing just one style. I did have the rock ethic, though–I definitely wanted the chicks and the fast cars–but not necessarily the long hair and the twenty-piece drumkit.

When I was nine, I started taking lessons from Charlie Adams, who plays drums for Yanni now. He’s an excellent player who’s very much into rudimental playing, and I went through a few technique books with him. I took lessons from him for five years, so that gave me a great foundation, plus I played four hours a day on my own at home, listened to my brother, and went to shows. I used to come home from school at 3:00 and sometimes play until 9:00.

Then I took lessons for three years from a teacher who was Charlie’s protege and who was really into the big-band thing. That was really good for me in the way of technique. And since my dad was a clarinet player, I already had a good idea of what it took to move a jazz song.

Then I took lessons from a teacher named Hugh Wilson, which presented a 180 degree turn for me, because he was a timpanist who was just getting into drumset playing. What he was really into was Brazilian and Latin rythems, so the next two years were just sambas and stuff like that. It was really cool, but it had a really weird effect on my playing at the time. I used to tape myself on a reel-to-reel tape player; I still have all the tapes of me practicing from the time I was fourteen on. There’s this two-year period where my snares were off all the time!

MP: Have you always sat so high behind the kit? It almost seems like you’re standing up.

JC: I sat pretty low in the studio this time, actually. But now that we’re out on the road again, I’m back to being up there. It’s not for anything visual. It all started because my rack toms are long and I love to have everything flat, like a snare drum. Snare drumming is probably my strongest suit, and with everything flat, I’m pretty good at pulling rolls off that way. My snare sits pretty high, almost as high as my toms. And because my toms are mounted on my bass drum, they almost have to sit at the top of the post to stay flat.

MP: How does that affect your bass drum technique?

JC: I’m used to it now, and I think it makes me play a little more heel-up. When I was low, I used to play a lot more jazzy. Up high, I tend to push things a little more, like I’m trying to push the sound forward. I like to project when I play, and I think sitting high really helps me move the songs. I went low in the studio mainly because of my back, which starts hurting when I’m sitting there six hours at a time. I’ve tried stools with backrests, but they don’t feel right to me.

MP: When did you first apply the technique you learned early on into a band situation?

JC: That didn’t come until I was about fifteen. I was pretty much good enough at that time to smoke all the other drummers in my area, because I came from a pretty small town. But I didn’t really every play in high school bands. I played with this garage group called the Warrior Band, which played Pat Traverse-type music, and they were all about twenty-five and pretty good musicians. There I was, fifteen years old, playing Friday and Saturday nights, getting sloshed, and having to go back to school on Monday. At sixteen, I had a girlfriend who was twenty-three! But I was making $400 a week doing these gigs, and I was totally convinced at that point that music was something I was going to do for the rest of my life.

My dad, being a musician, was supportive of the time I put into practicing and getting better. But he had six months to feed and had to work at a railroad for steady income. So that hindered any career he might have had, and it made him think more practically about any musical career I might have wanted.. He started stressing education a lot more, and I ended up going to Northern Illinois University for about a year. I screwed around a lot, but it was good for me because I got to read some interesting charts and keep up my reading ability. I’ve been reading all my life, and I can still sight-read fairly well.

MP: When did rock music come into the picture?

JC: I’d been listening to rock practically all my life, but I didn’t really play in any full-on rock band until the Pumpkins. After the Warrior Band, when I was seventeen, I played in a wedding band and made a lot of money. Then I started playing with this polka band–Eddie Carossa’s–and his father had a local TV show every Saturday called Polka Party or something like that. I did that for about a year and a half. At the same time, I was doing a radio show. So every Saturday, I was playing on TV from 6:00 to 6:30, then from 5:00 to 5:50 on the radio every Sunday.

It really demanded discipline of me every weekend because these shows were done live. And a lot of people watched the TV show because forty percent of the population in Chicago is Polish–especially on the south side. We were stars! And it was like I had two totally different lives at the same time–going to school with my friends who smoked pot and listened to Sabbath records, not telling any of them what I was doing on the side–and then wearing this polka-dot shirt that looked like it survived a pigeon bombing and playing polka’s on TV! That whole time was totally strange, and one by one my friends started finding out. I eventually had to move on because I didn’t want to play polkas my whole life.

I got into this band called Razor’s Edge, which was the first original-music situation I was in, and we did about three shows together. On the third show, we played with a show band called J.P. & the Cats, which was the most amazing group I’d ever seen. They had a full horn section and four front singers–a revue band that did everything, from jazz to “Wipeout”. I was totally blown away. Their drummer told me he was leaving, so I auditioned. The first thing we played was the opening chart to “West Side Story”, which was totally cool, exactly what I was looking for.

At this time, I hadn’t even told the Razor’s Edge guys I’d quit, and, as it turned out, they showed up at the first gig I had with J.P.! I ended up staying in that band for three years, and there was a lot of turnover around me, so I probably played with fifty different musicians in my time with them. We toured all over the place in a school bus and made a lot of money. We were at the MGM Grand in Reno for a month. It was really like a Broadway production on the road. We had dancers with us, too, so it was important that my meter was sharp.

MP: If you were doing so well and enjoying the music, what prompted you to leave?

JC: I just got totally burned out. I got sick of the road and there was very little stability in my life. Theoretically, I could have played with J.P. for ten years and made a living at it. But I wasn’t going to get rich and I wasn’t going to get any happier in J.P. than I already was. I was getting bored and just wanted to get away from the live gigs.

So I started working in studio stuff with a guy named Dave Zukowski in Joliet, and I got a job as a carpenter, which I had done off and on over the years. I really like to build things; it’s my second passion. I was building custom houses with my brother-in-law, and the money was excellent and the hours were a lot more appealing than anything I had on the road with J.P. I was still playing–jamming with a lot of blues bands in town and working with Dave on his original songs. The beauty was that there was no road stress involved–just coming home from work, showering, heading over to Dave’s, and having a couple of beers and jamming.

Dave had already had a record out, so there was some light at the end of the tunnel for some success. I was still open to having a life in music. But at that point, if something didn’t ever come along, I wasn’t going to be a frustrated gutter bum. I was happy with my playing, and financial success in terms of music wasn’t important to me, mainly because I was pulling in tons of cash in construction.

MP: What opened you up to getting back into the musical grind again?

JC: Dave worked at a record store at the time, and a friend of Billy [Corgan] came in and said Billy was looking for a drummer for one show at the Metro. Dave told him his drummer, who was me, could go in and kick ass for him. So I called Billy and he told me about the situation, that he had all these original songs and was gonna get signed. And I said, “Yeah, right,” figuring I’d do this one gig and we’d talk more later.

So I went out and saw the band–Billy, James [Iha], and D’arcy–playing at Avalon with a drum machine. Man, did they sound horrible! They were atrocious. But the thing I noticed was that not only were the song structures good, but Billy’s voice had a lot of drive to it, like he was dying to succeed. So I ended up driving from work every Wednesday to rehearse with them. We played that show at the The Metro, and a lot of people were impressed, saying we sounded different from everybody else out there.

I kept on working construction, but the band slowly became a more and more important part of my life, too, but the thing at that point was that I finally had my own apartment, a really nice sports car, and a good job. I was making all this cash, but I still wasn’t feeling good, like something was missing. I figured I had to do something with this band or I’d never forgive myself.

So I quit my job and moved up to Chicago. When my money ran out, I sold my car. I worked at a bike shop for a while and lived with this girl, but I was basically in the gutter for three years just so I could concentrate on the band. I went from eating steak every night and driving around in my car to eating hot dogs and beans and trying to get enough money for smokes. But it really didn’t seem weird because everybody in the band had the same drive and determination.

MP: When did things start to look up?

JC: We played a lot of shitty gigs at first, but we made up our minds to play four hundred shows a year just in the hopes that somebody would see us. So we decided to only take shows we knew were going to be good shows. We ended up playing a sold-out show with Jane’s Addiction at The Metro, which gave us some credibility. But the show was just one in a series of wise career moves on our part.

One thing we realized was that good-time rock bands that drink and party don’t make it– we had twenty examples of bands in Chicago to teach us what not to do. We made up our minds to learn every aspect of the business so that when things did start to happen for us, they wouldn’t backfire and blow up in our faces a year of five years down the road.

We controlled everything, all the promotion, merchandise….I think the reason we come across as a care-free band is because we’re so comfortable with the business side. All the money we made in the early days went back into the band bank account–every cent of it. And we used it to record a thiry-song demo over the course of three months. The owner of The Metro got it into the hands of it Andy Gershon, who’s now our manager, and who gave copies of the tape to people. Suddenly there was this huge buzz about us. A lot of people in Chicago accused us of not paying our dues, but it was just a case of us being smart and not playing trash gigs. They don’t know I lived in the dumpiest part of Chicago for three years and got mugged three times!

MP: Did you, and a band members, orchestrate the deal with Virgin Records that allowed you to release Gish on Caroline Records?

JC: It was totally a conscious business decision on our part, thinking it would benefit us in the long run. We were scared to death to come right out of the blocks with a major-label record, because if it failed, that could be the end and we probably wouldn’t get a second chance. But on Caroline, even if the record only sold 40,000, that would still be acceptable and we’d still have our deal with Virgin.

We have a lot internal fears of failure. We’ll sit and tell people how great we are, and then we’ll worry backstage about making chumps out of ourselves. I think it’s gotten to the point where we’ve actually talked ourselves into being a great band.

MP: It seems like there’s nowhere to go but up for you. How do you like the prospect of living out of a suitcase for the next year and a half to promote the new record?

JC: I love to play every day; that’s where this all makes sense to me. We were in Paris to do some press before the record came out, and it felt totally unnatural. I mean, what was I doing in Paris without a drumsticks? We went through Europe just to do press; we had two acoustic shows the whole time, and it sucked! I’m in a band to play in front of people who love the music. And now people aren’t there to see the band we’re backing up, they’re there to see us. That’s the real payoff.

Source: Starla.org

Q: On Siamese Dream, the song “Spaceboy” has mellotron strings throughout it, which are WAY sharp…I actually love how it sounds. I was just curious if there was a story behind that? Was it a happy accident? Was the mellotron not cooperating that day? Or did someone decide they wanted it to be out of tune?

Jeff Tomei: Mellotrons were notorious for their tuning problems. This was actually a really good one and it had 3 or 4 different tapes you could put in. I hesitate to call them cartridges because they were so big. The tapes were really old and some had been broken so they had less time and some notes did not work all of the time. You had to get in and adjust where the tape heads come in contact with the tape. I do remember Butch was concerned with the tuning but Billy just wanted to get it done. Also the tuning on them was hit or miss with one knob that was hard to get in and stay in the sweet spot. As a side note, James Iha bought that one. It belonged to Triclops studio where we tracked the record.

Butch Vig: Is the Spaceboy mellotron sharp? It could be…it was a very tempermental mellotron! The cool thing about that song is that is has a really cool vibe…it’s kinda loose…but it feels really great. And I think Billy’s vocals are breathtaking. Billy played the mellotron, and I remember that at the time I thought some of the parts he played were quite odd (he’s not a keyboard player)…but now, they all make sense to me!

Q: Billy Corgan said it was a miracle that Siamese Dream was ever completed as it was a struggle at some points. Was this a fun record to make? Any standout memories?

Butch Vig: Making Siamese Dream was really hard, because we felt a ton of pressure, and the band was pretty fragile. But Billy and I made a clear decision to swing for the stars, and make an ambitious statement, and I think we nailed it. There we days were it was fun, days were it was tedious, and days where it was crazy! I think the album still sounds good today, it holds up really well!

It was one of the most difficult albums I ever made, and one that I am very proud of. After the success of Nevermind and Gish, there was immense pressure on us to deliver something special. I pushed Billy hard…and he pushed me. There WERE days when it was fun, but also days where we felt like we had gone into the abyss. At the end of the album, we were both physically and emotionally exhausted. Alan Moulder had to leave on the last day of mixing (after we had kidnapped him for 6 straight weeks without a day off!) and Billy and I finished the last song Luna about 4 AM. There was no champagne, no high fives, no cheering…we just looked at each other and said “holy shit, are we finished?” and dragged ourselves back to the hotel. I woke up at noon the next day a the Beverly Garland Hotel on Vineland with all the curtains closed, and listened to the album all the way through in pitch black. I couldn’t see anything, I could only listen…and I knew we had something special.

Q: How did you get the guitar sound on Siamese Dream? How many tracks of guitar were layered?

Butch Vig: Oh yes, there were a LOT of guitars! Because we were using analog tape, and had most of the guitars on the 2nd reel, we had to punch in different parts in different sections, sometimes submixing 8 or 12 guitars down to stereo…(this is before Pro Tools)…I remember some songs like Hummer and Soma had so many parts, I had to make “guitar maps” for us to remember how to approach the mix. Alan Moulder asked “what is a guitar map?” He knew what a guitar map was after he’d been kidnapped for 6 weeks!

Q: How did you record Corgan’s vocals on the CD. The just seem to…well work. Was there a weird technique used? Mics? Effects?

Butch Vig: I think we used an SM7 a lot…and I had an API Lunchbox that I used for vocals at that time for the pre…I would add a little air at the top, and usually cut a bit of mid around 800 hz…. And I probably used my Summit TLA 100 comp. But I seem to remember Billy used a large tube mic on a couple songs…hmmmm. Jeff will probably remember better than me!

Jeff Tomei: I do remember that we used a tube 47 on one or two songs but found that the SM7 was better for his voice. I remember the vocal comps taking quite a bit of time as all the vocals were doubled. Once we had the main comp, we then had to create the double.

Q: I was wondering about Billy’s voice, in Cherub Rock and Hummer for example. Do you use an effect? Or was that the room or was it overdubs that made his voice sound great?

Butch Vig: There’s very little effect on Billy’s voice, I think we used a little bit of Eventide harmonizer as a doubler, set to around 30ms. Alan Moulder might have added a bit of room in the mix, but Billy and I didn’t like reverb. We did dbl his voice and add harmonies when we recorded the song.

Q: Is there a story behind the cool sounds at the beginning of Quiet?

Butch Vig: The intro is 3 or 4 short guitar licks that we ran into the K2500 and processed heavily. We didn’t use midi, so I had to “fly” the bits back to tape pushing the trigger button…it was tricky to get the timing right.

Q: Did you literally sort of move up the frequency spectrum with successive guitar overdubs (ie, have a couple of guitar tracks with only low mids, then a couple more a bit higher up, and so on) or did you have a more full-range, “standard” starting guitar sound, which you then added to on a song-by-song basis? Also, was it all done with eq, or did you make use of phase cancellation between the different mics on Billy’s cabs, (and if you could give us an idea of the recording chain too — I read you used C414s and Sennheiser421s, but what else?). 

Butch Vig: We would usually record the guitars with their full sound, then filter them through and eq, sometimes the Neve, sometimes the API…ahhhhh, I think thwy had some pultecs there…and even some of the guitars went through my Akai sampler. I think we had 4 mics on the guitars…Jeff might remember…we’d make sure the phase was good, and then pick the best one or sometime 2 blended. I had this trick I would do when setting up mics…I’d turn the amp on full blast so there is a lot of static noise coming from the speaker, then I’d put headphones on and turn up the mic level to the headphone mix really loud. Then I’d get down in front of the speaker and listen to how the hiss sounded. You can hear the top, mids, bottom in the headphones depending on where you move the mic, and I would place it where I thought I found the sweet spot.

Q: I heard that Siamese Dream was tracked to tape but ADATs and Pro Tools were somehow involved as well. If this is incorrect and it was actually all tape, does that mean there was absolutely no sample augmentation of the drums or auto-tune in the vocals? Or were these tasks just accomplished differently (eg. drum head triggers to a module)?

Butch Vig: The albums was recorded to 48 track, using two Studers. There was one song Mayonaise, that had so many tape edits, we found a digital multitrack (mitsubishi?) and transferred the song to it as our new master, cuz we were afraid the tape would break! No auto tuning…Billy would sing until he got it right. I would usually do comps with Jeff, old school style, punching the best bits onto a new master track. It was time consuming! I think Alan Moulder used some triggers when we mixed to add ambience to some of the songs…but we never replaced anything, and if we did use a trigger on the snare, it was probably a 70/30 % blend.

I can explain why we did so many edits. In rehearsals, I was timing the band around 145 bpm (as far as can remember). When we tracked it, we used a click, and Billy though it sounded too fast. So we slowed it down to around 141 or so. After we recorded what I thought was the master take, I started to notice certain snare hits that dragged. So I measured where the kick landed with a china marker on tape, then measured where the snare landed. The bars that felt good to me, were in fact around 145 bpm. So Jeff and I went through and starting shaving any snare that dragged forward. And we went in kinda deep! There were probably 200 edits when we were finished! The song was recorded at 141 but ended up at 145! After 200 edits I looked at Jeff and said “Is it Sweet?

Jeff Tomei: I went through a few razor blades on Mayonaise.

Q: Is it true that Billy Corgan used as many as 13 guitar tracks on some parts?

Butch Vig: I think Soma and Hummer had closer to 40 guitar tracks. Not all playing at the same time, but there could be 8-10 overdubs in one section, then another 8-10 in a second section, etc. A lot of times we would bounce them down…like in the ebow part, I think that was around 12 tracks mixed down to stereo.

Q: Billy is obviously an immensely talented guitarist, and Today is one of the standout songs from this album, but my God that sounds like hell. Four notes, on four bars, for 12 hours? You deserve every bit of respect that you get.

Jeff Tomei: That amp was this old no name combo that Mark Richarsdon owned. I think it was something he put together. It had an old original Jensen 10″ or 12″ speaker. The speaker was later fried when, in a tired state, Mark hooked the power cable up to the speaker as he was doing some work on it. When he plugged it in…..zap, speaker gone.

Q: About the strings on the album:  If live, how many players were used (ie. violin, viola, cello)? Were they all tracked at once or separate? How many overdubs each, if any? What mic setup? If synthetic components are there as well, what were they?

Jeff Tomei: We had 1 violin and 1 cello player. We stacked them about 15 or 20 times and had to record to a “C” and bounce stereo pairs back to the “B” reel. I think we used a tube 47 or a Neumann fet 47 for the Cello and maybe a Sony C37A for the violin. Nothing synthetic though, just many, many stacks.

Butch Vig: The funny thing is, we originally wanted to make the strings sound like a quartet, so we should have only needed a couple takes. But after listening to them double the first part, we realized the song was going to sound much bigger and dynamic with a LOT of strings. In hindsight, we probably could have got a 16 piece or 20 piece string section and done it live, but hey, what did we know…we were making it up on the fly!

Q: I am almost positive that the reason they even chose Triclops Studio was that it was all analog/tube (at least according to Billy). In a sound on sound article, it stated that “Billy would sometimes spend up to 8 hours on 1 song trying to get the vocals pitch perfect.” 

Jeff Tomei: Triclops studio was used because of 2 main reasons, it was not LA and they had a beautiful sounding Neve 8068. I believe Butch sought the studio for the board and wanted to keep the band away from distractions like there would be in LA.

Butch Vig: Exactly, that’s why we chose the studio…that Neve was a kickass sounding, and we thought we would be isolated enough to keep the distractions low. However, within 24 hours Jimmy new every drug dealer, hooker, bookie, and nut case in Atlanta…so that part of the plan didn’t work!

Q: Was each one of those tracks actually played? Or were they different channels of the same take? (with different mics?)

Butch Vig: All the tracks were played individually!

Q: When you are layering this many guitars, do you use lots of different guitar amps? I guess I figure there are three or four but I can imagine with 40 tracks you could have 12 or more amp sounds on one song.

Butch Vig: We didn’t change amps a lot, most of the time we would change the mic for a different part. Billy also used a lot of pedals which would give each part a different tone

Q: How much you’d say the guitar sounds come from Billy’s playing per say and how much you’d account that to gear, recording techniques and technology itself? I know this might be a bit tough question to answer, but I was just wondering if Billy always sounds so damn good regardless of amps and mikes and stuff. Was he patient with finding sounds or was he wanting to move along? How much he had planned ahead concerning those guitar maps and armies or did you create it as you went along? How open was he to experiment in the studio at that time? Was Billy always ready to commit the 8 hour sessions to getting it right or was there some tension when things got difficult when recording vocals? Any special ambience/reverb treatments to get that special sound or is just Billy’s unique voice that’s working there?

Butch Vig: Billy has a really good ear, and he was just as opinionated about the sound as I was. Most of the time, he knew what he wanted, but sometimes it took a while to get the sound. A lot of experimenting. Sometimes I would suggest and idea, and it would take hours to get the right sound.

Billy is a GREAT guitarist….some of the parts came really fast, others were a struggle: the intro for Today took a LOT of takes to get the perfect sound and feel. Remember, this is before Pro Tools, and that guitar is naked at the start of the song…I think we worked on that 4 bar intro for about 12 hours!!!!

Vocals were time consuming. Billy would do a lot of of takes, I would give him feedback and keep notes until I was satisfied we had the right performance. Then Jeff and I woud do a vocal comp, bouncing the best bits to another track. We didn’t use auto-tune (it didn’t exist!) so I just went for what I thought had the best feel. There are spots on the album where the vocal is not pitch perfect, but that’s not the point…I was looking for an emotional quality in his singing….Billy has this ability to open his heart, so to speak, and sing with a vulnerability that draws you into the song. That was more important to me than technical perfection.

Siamese Dream is a very dry record, very little reverb used on guitars and vocals. And we seldom used ambient mics on the guitars. The one efx we used a lot on Billy’s voice was the Eventide harmonizer, to add a slight double effect. Usually 20 or 30 ms delay, with about a 10 cent pitch offset.

Jeff Tomei: I remember the intro guitar that James played (and he played very little on the record) on Mayonaise took even longer than Today. The main problem was the band was pretty insistent in playing their instruments. This guitar James had was a Kingston he got in a pawn shop. The intonation was terrible and we had to do a lot of tuning for the chords. The bridge was kind of like an old tele where each 2 strings share so you had to compromise on the intonation I seem to remember. The feedback guitar the you hear in the pauses in the song was a Kimberley. The pickups were so microphonic and we had Billy play in front of the cab. As a side note, it is also the guitar we used as a drum room mic on the song “Pissant” from Pisces Iscariot.

Q: Could you elaborate on this? I always assumed the BIG guitar sound of SP was the result of a dual Corgan and Iha attack. Are you saying Corgan did most of the guitars on SD? If so, why?

Jeff Tomei: It is pretty well known that Billy played most of the guitars on SD. He played bass on every song but “Luna” I believe.

My opinion as to why, is that Billy knew pretty much what he wanted. In all fairness to James and D’arcy, there is no way to get inside someone else’s head and play exactly what they envision. I also don’t think that they were as prepared for the record as Billy. Again this is just my opinion. I am sure Butch can elaborate more on this.

We did track all songs as a band with the exception of some “B” sides. Billy would go in after we had the final drum edit and put the bass, guitars and vocals on. I recall we would work on 2 songs at a time and get them to about 80% before tracking more basics.

Q: How was the acoustic tracked on “Disarm”? Was it doubled or just one layer? Stereo/mono miced and what mics? When bouncing down the strings, how did you pan? Did you hardpan doubles for width? 

Jeff Tomei: The Acoustic was Billy’s Ovation (not my favorite to record). I really don’t remember the mic, it may have been the tube 47 or even an AKG 414. I know we spent a long time getting the sound because Ovations just don’t record well for me. Billy actually got tired/frustrated because of the time issue that he had James Iha play for a bit. When we finally were set on the sound, Billy went back in the booth and the guitar sounded totally different. The thing I learned with that was because Billy is a big guy and James was not, the guitar resonated more with James. By Billy hunkering down over the guitar, it made it darker and less resonant. We had dialed the sound in for James’ playing style. Very frustrating in the end and I still don’t like the sound of that acoustic on the record.

I can’t really help you out with the string bouncing…I really don’t remember. There were probably 2 stereo pairs and 2 mono but I’m not sure. Though the record came out in ’93, we tracked it in ’92, so 17 years later, my memory of all details fails me.

Q: What I wanted to know was how you guys got the snare to sound so freaking amazing on this record? I know that Jimmy used a lot of different snares and that samples were triggered when mixing, but what specific effects were used on the snare during mix-down?

Jeff Tomei: Actually I remember we mostly used Jimmy’s Radio King snare. The biggest thing to the sound was how well it and all of the drums were tuned. Butch was absolutely amazing at tuning the drums. As far as the snare in the mixing, Butch can shed some light on that. I was not around for the mix.

Q: I heard Jimmy Chamberlin has quite light touch when he plays. Did this cause you any problems when getting the drum tones/tracking etc?

Butch Vig: Jimmy is a GREAT drummer, he has some amazing chops. He does not hit the drums really hard, but he has excellent dynamic control over the whole kit, and sort of mixes himself. We probably could have used 4 mics and he would have sounded amazing.

Q: I absolutely love the delicate yet aggressive snare sound you had going on Siamese Dream. Do you remember which snare(s) Jimmy used?

Jeff Tomei: It was a Radio King.

* According to Jimmy Chamberlin, the 1939 Radio King and Pearl 6.5″ Chrome Free-Floater were used on ”Today”.

Q: What console was the album recorded through and what was it mixed on?

Jeff Tomei: It was recorded on a Neve 8068. The history of that board (at least 1/2 of the board) is that it came from A&R studios in NY and John Lennon recorded on it. I have seen the picture of Lennon behind it.
As far as the mix, Butch would know as I was not there.

Butch Vig: The album was mixed at Rumbo in Los Angeles…the studio owned by The Captain and Tennille (the Captain used to practice fly fishing off the roof)….I think the console was a Neve VR. That board at Triclops was really big sounding!

Q: What mics/chain were used for the acoustic guitars (on “Disarm” especially)…any compression on those?

Butch Vig: I think we used 1176 or dbx160 on the acoustic…Jeff, didn’t you talk about Billy’s acoustic earlier? I was not crazy about how it sounded…it was kind of dark. It sounds good on the album, but we had to eq it a lot.

I also remember Billy wore a bracelet most of the time, and sometimes the mic would pick it up. I can hear it a little bit in “Spaceboy”…almost like percussion. I can hear it distinctly on Gish in “Daydream”.

Q: I was wondering what kind of tape was used on the album and what kind of noise reduction if any?

Jeff Tomei: Ampex 456 30ips no NR. I believe the Studer was set up at +6 @185. We went through 40 reels of 2″ between “B”Reels and safeties.

Q: Was Mike Mills playing piano on Soma something that was planned or did he just happen into the session? Also, can you tell us a little about the intro to Hummer; there is quite an unusual/distorted electric sitar sound. How was that achieved?

Jeff Tomei: Billy or Butch one, planned on Mike playing. The studio had a beautiful sounding Steinway that once was at the Fox Theater in Atlanta. Skynyrd used it on “One More From The Road”. The sitar was a coral sitar that belonged to a musician named Jeff Calder in an Atlanta band called the Swimming Pool Qs. We never recorded the real Sitar Billy brought in. I seem to remember Butch making a Loop in his Akai S-1000 but don’t remember the details much. I think Billy played it through an amp to get the distortion.

Q: Can you tell us a bit about the track Hello Kitty Kat? It turned up on Pisces Iscariot, but was supposedly originally intended to appear as an album track on Siamese Dream. What happened?

Jeff Tomei: I’m sure Butch knows but it probably just did not make the cut for the final. It is sometimes difficult to know what goes on and what does not. We tracked 26 songs I believe during that time. 13 made it on SD and 6 are on PI. One interesting thing is that we cut a “B” side song that was just Billy on Mellotron and Jimmy on drums. I remember asking Billy what the title was and he said “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness”. Somewhere on a 2″ tape box is that song title years before that actual record came out.

The video below has footage of the band recording Siamese Dream at Triclops Sound Studios in January of 1993. There is also an in-studio interview with Butch Vig.

Source: GearSlutz.com

What are your favorite Adore songs?
My fave adore songs: to sheila, daphne descends, ava adore (cuz when we play it live it’s all about me, haha!), behold the nightmare, blank page

And Gish?

fave gish songs: siva, rhinocerous, tristessa, snail, i am one

How much could be hard to play ‘Rhinoceros’, for example, with a drummer who continues to do annoying drum rolls like Mike, without accelerating the song?

why in the world would you post insulting comments on the personal page of someone who plays in a band you claim to be a fan of? i don’t get people like you. i mean to each his own, but i personally don’t get off being a negative nancy. that’s just me.

Is loveless one of your favorite stuck in the car in traffic records to BLAST or what??

agreed david. no i have not personally played snail with the band, unfortunately. would love to! and loveless slays my heart everytime, in a good way.

Hey that’s bullshit. But hell whose the dumb one asking for a request. Talking crap! Damn kids!

i mean i’m used to it. everyone is allowed to have an opinion, that’s why i won’t delete his comments. i just don’t get the point of being negative is all.

Why? Because I’m a fan of a band which never was a “real” band, in the classic meaning, neither in the 90s! I’m just trying to get a “musician chat”… but I’m glad to see that you don’t reply just to fans who licks your a**…

fair enough. again, we’ve all got our opinions.

Mellon Collie stuff will forever be the soundtrack to my high school years. It’s a beautiful thing to remember.

dont even get me started on mellon collie. just DREAMY. love, 33, porcelina, by starlight, muzzle, in the arms of sleep, stumbeleine, tonight tonight, zero. need i say more?

Make Billy play Bury Me and we will love you forever Nicole!

i can suggest, i can bat my eyelashes, but i can’t MAKE billy do anything. ; )

What songs from the SP catalog that you have not played live yet would you like to play the most. And, Say Billy said ‘For your birthday, I am letting you put our set list together.’ What would you choose?

songs i haven’t played and would love to: 33, luna, daphne descends, i am one, love, porcelina, quiet, mayonaise, with every light, muzzle, bodies, soma…i mean i could go on but it would take awhile!

Ok what about Machina and Machina II songs? what are your faves from those?

i really love heavy metal, sacred and profane, with every light

What is your favorite played so far off Teargarden?

as for released TBK songs, my faves are astral planes, tom tom, freak, fellowship. i have some fave TBK’s that haven’t been released too, but you’ll have to be patient on that info!

You definitely are in one of the best bands, you are very fortunate to have that opportunity and experience. But your talent is what got you there as well!

thanks pamela! i really am grateful for my job. and its a really good fit, we’re kind of a dream team the 4 of us, regardless of what some people may think. ; )

Nicole, Do You love to Billy? 

i really do, he’s a great friend of mine and i learn so much from him musically.

Nicole – Have you ever thought of eventually fronting your own band? Do you write frequently? And how’s Louise doing? Any chance of Veruca Salt coming back any time soon?

i’ve never actually fronted my own band. i’ve been in many bands and written with many people, but honestly i have no desire to be a frontperson. louise is great, shes in mommy land! i don’t think VS is done and if i have free time and louise wants to play music with me again i would. but right now SP is full time

Nicole, I always like to ask this of my favorite musicians… what was your first performance/concert like? What kind of music was it, how did it go?

my first show was with my high school punk band sweet 16. at a record store in westfield, ma. i think 5 people were there including my dad. i played drums for a few songs too!

How long have you been playing bass? Has being in the SP challenged you even more with your playing style? SP create some pretty amazing music! Not music that you hear everyday on the radio, but really thought provoking, intelligent music. I would love to meet you all someday, have waited many years. Tried last time but wasn’t allowed in : ( but loved being at the show!! Can you please say hello to Billy and the rest of the band to for me, I love you all, and appreciate your music very very much, SP music has helped me a lot in the past, and I will always continue to listen to SP! Thank you again Nicole, is nice talking to you : )

i’ve been playing since i was 14. SP has challenged me more than any band i’ve ever played in. especially in the respect that i am writing my own parts for the new songs. lots of pressure there!

Who was your absolute favorite punk band as a kid?

i loved rancid, bikini kill, lunachicks, dead kennedies. i was into poppier punk. i liked lots of local massachusetts band too, where i’m from

Do you have a preference between playing larger venues versus smaller, perhaps more “intimate” clubs and places?

it’s really intense to play in front of thousands of people at a festival, but there’s something about intimate venues that you can’t get with the large crowds. eye contact for example. i’m really big on that

A few times in the past, other band members have taken over the lead vocal duties. You have a very nice singing voice… if the band wanted you to, and there was a song that asked for a female lead voice, is that something you would be interested in doing? any plans of one?

i would love to sing lead on an SP song, there hasn’t been an opportunity but if it came up i would give it a shot

Is there any discussion in a break in format and releasing a full album CD?

we like to keep you on your toes

What band were you in in high school? I used to go to a lot of the Western Mass local shows in high school

sweet 16. used to play pearl st all the time. and flywheel

How do you feel about the younger generation of fans taking interest in SP? And what’s your favourite song to play? 

i am so thrilled to see younger faces in the audience. it’s like they get to experience their own version of SP. pretty exciting that they’re not just hearing old songs rehashed. we love the old school fans too! aside from mike byrne, we’re no spring chickens in this camp!

What has been your favorite song to play? What are your wishes for the future as the band continues to grow together, record more, etc…?

i love ava adore, fellowship, by starlight, tristessa, cherub, hummer, astral, stand inside your love, many others, i hope to continue making music with billy that is just as epic, dark, beautiful and magical as you all expect it to be.

Who or what are your main musical inspirations?

the cure, pj harvey, siousxie sioux, my bloody valentine, joy division, fleetwood mac

What are your three favorite Pumpkins songs?

luna, 33, mayonaise. so many more than 3 though

How much fun is it to play “Gossamer”?

gossamer rocks my world

Hey Nicole, interested in knowing what gear you have personally been using on the recent songs?

my 78 fender P, billy’s fender jazz (63 i think) and a thunderbird. reeves head and ampeg cab. also my touring rig mesa titan head and mesa cab

Hi Nicole. I can imagine that traveling extensively can be an amazing experience for the soul, but is it hard to remain grounded and creative in that situation?

it really can be. it takes a little getting used to and its not for everyone. i can see why people snap under the pressure. but i try to step back and remember why it is i do this. i adore music.

Any SP songs that you would like to play live that you haven’t yet?

lots: 33, luna, mayonaise, with every light, muzzle, bodies, quiet

Do u compose any type of music?

i was co-writer in several of the bands i’ve played with in the past. i write my own bass parts in SP and have progressively been contributing more and more as time passes. like i said to someone else, i can’t MAKE billy corgan do anything. ; )

Do you ever feel like you need to just step back for a minute and say “damn. I’m in SP?”

many many times, usually when i’m on stage!

Can you comment on any new instruments involved in the recording process? Stand up Bass??

dijeridoo. haha i don’t think tha’ts how you spell it. ; )

i don’t think anyone is going to change the setlist but billy himself. he writes them before a show. or so i’ve heard.

the band helps out

Are the upcoming songs similar to what has been shown so far, or is it going in a new direction musically? 

definitely a fresh vibe . i’m really excited about it

Hi Nicole, do you see yourself becoming involved in writing the lyrics of new SP songs?

doubtful but billy is very open to our ideas so you never know

What’s your favourite bass to play right now?

the new fender jazz we just got, but we have a 6 string coming that i’m really looking forward to!

How are you feeling today Nicole?

i’m feeling chatty. : )

How much of the new material is pre-written (via Billy or whoever) and how much of it is created via a jam or just rockin out?

for the most part whole band

What is your favorite candy? I want to know, so that if i ever get to meet you i can give you some!

chocolate covered pretzels, not really a candy though is it?

Dear Nicole: Which are the best memories of your participation in Veruca Salt? 

writing with louise for VS IV. shes such a gem to work with

Favorite Bass player? if you could be in any historic band (not currently playing live or recording) what band would it be?

fave bass player simon gallup from the cure

Had you ever been to a Pumpkins show before you joined the band?

shockingly the only time i saw SP was when they played amoeba record store with mark tulin on bass last year, right before i joined the band!

I was at a studio and recorded bass on saturday, and I was wondering if you double layer and pan your bass tracks to different sides? i’m always wanting to hear different techniques. any thing unusual you do at the studio when prepping or recording?

i have panned the bass before in a recording but not with sp. i’ve been experimenting a lot more with pedals and such, since billy’s such a pedal freak!

What’s the most fun SP song to play?

united states is a blast

What do you think about chemtrails?

i don’t think about chemtrails

What pedals have you been having the most fun with? Using any fuzz?

chorus and delay, fuzz is always fun too

How do you and the others come up with the songs? I know Billy must have a huge part in it, but is it mostly planned out (like, “Okay, this is what we should do, go for this vibe, etc.), or does it come spontaneously/from a lot of jam sessions?

it’s a little bit of both. really depends on the circumstance

What’s your favorite Muppet?

hypno the blond chick and beaker

Nicole, Do you like South America? And what is your favorite country?

i am in love with south america. my grandfather is from lima peru

What women in music inspired you in your younger years?

joan jett, go gos, bangles, madonna, bikini kill, stevie nicks, 7 year bitch, L7, veruca salt, lunachicks, etc

Before you go on tour do you rehearse a predetermined number of songs that you eventually choose from for each show, or are you supposed to know every SP tune there is and just roll with whatever the setlist turns out to be?

we figure it out at rehearsal, and change it up while were out on tour sometimes. he never said learn the entire catalogue, but i do know most of it at this point

I met the Lunachicks one time and got their autographs! They opened up for The Offspring in Springfield, MO.

my old band in high school opened for lunachicks!

What modern day bands do you like? i think the silversun pickups sound a lot like 90′s SP!

i love silversun, brian is a good friend of mine and i’ve been going to their shows since they were playing in friends backyards in LA

Not really a question, but Nicole you gotta know: you give bass-wielding girls a lot of hope the world over. thanks for doing what you do ?

kelly! thanks so much! that means a lot to me. ; )

What do you think the hardest SP song to play bass to is?

i had trouble with simpler songs like today and 1979. onlty because the bass is so basic that i just space out! and billy’s changes can be hard to follow. hes tricky that way

Nicole, What is your video music favorite of SP? And Is there video music in the future for Teargarden?

1979 was always a good one, not sure about video for us in the near future but i know billy wants to explore all media

Nicole, will you force Mike to add me?

yes

Hello Nicole. Do you think, actually (in this days) that is possible to create an album as important as it was the Siamese Dream?

i do think its possible absolutely.

You mentioned chorus/delay/distortion, any special ones stand out, or is it an all you can play buffet of pedals?

i’ve been using the line 6 m 13

What’s Mike doing here? He can talk to you anytime.

i guess he loves me.

Have you ever seen the archives? SP vault?

i’ve seen a lot of SP related vaulty type things

Nicole, what do you think about teargarden by kaleidoscope, is it better than other works of SP?

i am really attached teargarden. obviously since i am involved in it. but i do think it holds its own (especially the upcoming songs) with billy’s archive

Can you speak in spanish?

i took spanish in high school but i am really out of practice!

What was your first bass?

fender jazz white on white. (93 i think) it got stolen. i was devastated. ok love you guys! thanks again!

Billy Corgan: The complete Q&A - An in-depth conversation with Smashing Pumpkins’ perpetually outspoken leader by George Varga

This is our complete Q&A interview with Smashing Pumpkins’ leader Billy Corgan. He spoke with us by phone from Los Angeles last week. (To read our feature article on Corgan, click here.)

Q: Duke Ellington once was asked what inspired him to compose, and he replied: “Give me a deadline.” How important are deadlines to you?

Pretty important! (laughs) I’m the type of person who will procrastinate till the end of time. Pressure is good.

Q: So how are you at imposing that deadline pressure on yourself?

Right now, not so good, because I’m running my own clock. The last time we were in the studio we had three weeks before going to South America to record songs.

Q: From our last chat, way back in 2000, I know you’re a big fan of Duke Ellington, Charlie Parker and Howlin’ Wolf, to name a few. Have you ever thought about putting links up to YouTube performance clips of them on your Twitter page, the same way you have with “Plundered My Soul” by the Rolling Stones and song by The Electric Prunes?

Yeah. You know what? It’s really interesting you ask that, because for a while I was running a spiritual Web site (everythingfromheretothere.com) and I wanted to figure out a way to have a hub that would turn people onto different music, so that I could pick an artist and an album, and spend energy saying why that artist is important. The challenge is giving it an integral value. The problem is that most people build a network based on salacious celebrity (stuff). The challenge is trying to find a value system to relate to people on a value-based level.

Q: Could you elaborate on how that would work?

I had a spiritual Web site for a while and wanted to morph it into something bigger, which was a challenge of how to integrate different things from a value point of thing. As a kid, I would say: ‘I don’t like the blues, it’s too boring.’ It took people who loved the blues to get me into why it’s so fantastic, and then my listening to Led Zeppelin. Everything is moving so fast (technologically); I keep waiting for things to develop more integrity. The Internet can be very deceiving. We have 600,000 people on our Facebook page, it doesn’t mean they’ll all take notice, unless I rip Pavement a new (bottom) — then they’ll pay attention.

Q: So your spiritual Web site is defunct…

It was up for maybe four or five months and was sort of a precursor to a spiritual book I’m going to write next year. I was writing blogs, five or six days a month, trying to write about how spirituality intersects with daily life and culture. I never paid any attention how many people were visiting (the site); I just tried to communicate, peer to peer, and a lot of people took it the wrong way because celebrities aren’t supposed to talk about God.

Q: Did you consider doing the Web site anonymously, so people wouldn’t connect it with you as a “rock star?”

I think it’s a matter of context. If you come out as a celebrity talking about god, (the reaction is): ‘He has he lost his mind.’ Once I write the book, there will be a context.

Q: Do you have a name yet for your book?

“God is everywhere, from here to there,” which is the name the Web site was spun off.

Q: I remember reading an interview with Baba Ram Dass years ago, where he said something like: ‘The goal is to be nothing.’ I understood what he meant, in terms of ego. But it struck me as a much easier goal for an affluent or upper-middle-class, white American than for someone in the Third World, whose immediate concern was if they and their family would be able to get food to eat that day. What is the main message in your book?

I think what a lot of us struggle with are spiritual values, meaning: How can we interpret an incredibly material world. Like, for example, when you have to eat, how can you figure out a way to eat in a spiritual way? Not everyone has opportunities (to do that). Let’s say you’re a bus driver– and I don’t want to be singling out bus drivers. Is there a way you can appreciate your job and who you are, and approach life in a positive way?

I meet people all the time who say things like: ‘I’m just an accountant.’ You ask them: ‘How’d you become one?’ They say: ‘Well I loved math and am good with numbers,’ like it’s some kind of a failure. But I’d agree with your point about trying not to get stuck in that white, middle-class point of view.

For example, just to take it back to rock ‘n’ roll for a moment, one of the biggest issues we face in rock is the white, middle-class or upper-middle- class value system that gets put on people like me, constantly, about what integrity is. I grew up in a lower-middle- class home, where we didn’t have a lot.

So, survival in the old Pumpkins, including material things, was one of our focuses. It wasn’t our driving focus, but we wanted to buy a nice place to live and take care of our families, because that’s the way we were raised. Then you run into the snarky New York crowd and find out you’re wearing the ‘wrong’ clothes. And you scratch your head and find out most of those people came from more affluent backgrounds

Not everybody can sit on a mountain and say: ‘This is how it should be.’ So, it’s about: ‘How can you improve your life and the perception of it?’ And not feel you went to your grave not pursuing your passion. It’s not (a book about) ‘You should live like this.’

Q: Both my parents were born and raised in Hungary, and there’s an old Hungarian saying that goes: “Tell people the truth and they kick your head in.”

(Laugh uproariously). That has been my experience in life, absolutely! I’m a Pisces and we look at things from two perspectives. I get that people want rock’ ‘n roll to be a fantasy camp; by the same token, there’s plenty of room for a divergent set of opinions. Like, Lou Reed balances David Bowie, balances Neil Young, balances (Bob) Dylan. But not everybody needs to come from the same fantasy land perspective.

“It’s with great irony I look at people who criticized me in the ’90s (like Pavement), and see they are playing their old albums on tour, (while) I’m trying to make new music. And I don’t see anybody ripping them apart. For the snarks to rip them apart is for the snarks to reveal themselves as the poseurs they are. …

There’s an unspoken code in rock (that goes): ‘Hey, I won’t reveal your b.s. if you don’t reveal mine.’ I’m sure you’ve encountered people who have a very public image, but they’re really actors, very sophisticated actors, because people project on them that they are ‘the working man.’ It’s a self-perpetuating myth the media perpetrates. So, here I am, getting my ass kicked for being an honest guy and being imperfect. You definitely pay a price for telling the truth.

Q: But isn’t rock, ideally, supposed to be a forum for telling the truth?

It’s part of the fantasy. I talk to fans all the time, and I’ll say: ‘What do you think of this artist?’ And they say: ‘He’s a good guy.’ So, what they mean is: ‘I’m willing to listen his b.s., because he’s a good guy.’

Q: Does it matter? Pablo Picasso was, by all accounts, a total jerk who treated most people like dirt. Does that make his art less great or notable? Should we separate the art from the person who made it?

I think the art is the only thing that matters. I’m not saying the life of the artist shouldn’t be examined. But to put the life of the artist as the equal of the art is coming from the audience or the ‘perceiver,’ not from people who really understand art.

Let’s say you and I are taking a hike and I’ve just finished telling you what a horrible person I am. But at the end I tell you a parable that is the greatest parable you’ve ever heard. Does it diminish the parable because I’m a piece of (crap)? No. It might have more value because I’m a piece of (crap). The modern world is very focused on negative aspects of the artist, because it’s part of some marketing campaign. When the personality is more important, you have a problem — The work will not hold up with time, but you get what you pay for.

If you need to believe that Radiohead would hang out with you at Starbucks because they’re good guys – and I’m not picking on them — if that’s what you need (to believe), I won’t argue with it. But I don’t get that. I think it’s really juvenile. I’m in the Duke Ellington school of thought, that there’s good music and bad music. I don’t know what kind of guy Howlin’ Wolf was but I know the kind of guy I think he was.

Q: Turning to the songs currently on the Smashing Pumpkins’ Web site,“Spangled” sounds like it has an electric spinet; “A Stitch in Time” has a sitar-like sounding instrument; and the intro to “Tom Tom” has an instrument with a banjo-like quality. Am I imagining these instruments?

Very good. You’re pretty much right on. “Spangled” has a Baldwin harpsichord with Rickenbacker guitar and “Stitch” has a choral sitar.

Q: What about the banjo?

I think you’re hearing a keyboard (program) that sounds like a banjo.

Q: This might betray my age, but the opening riff on your song “Window Wake My Mind” sounds like it might be a sly homage to the opening of “25 or 6 to 4” by the band once known as Chicago Transit Authority.

(laughs) You are betraying your age! I actually thought more that it reminded me of mid-‘70s Dylan, when he went real simple with the “If Not For You” type songs, where everything got real simple. That’s what appealed about it to me — a good simple song, as opposed to a good complex song. People are used to me writing good complex songs and scratch their heads (when I don’t).

Q: Then there are the dual guitar lines on “A Song for a Son,” which evokeThe Eagles’ “Hotel California.” Is that accurate?

Totally. One thing I discovered in recording — and I didn’t realize it until I started recording these songs — is that I was sort of interested in how a film director would shoot a scene in black-and-white or put actors in period costumes. I was interested in putting some of the songs in period costumes, although I wouldn’t do it that way today, necessarily. So when I was recording, I’d say: “I want it to sound like 1975 UFO.” It had something to do with reconciling an idealistic period in rock for me, when I came of age with rock when I was 10 or 11.

Q: Are you familiar with the gospel group the Blind Boys of Alabama?

Yes. I have several of their albums.

Q: Well, years ago, I was interviewing the leader of the Blind Boys. The group’s guitarist had recently left and they were auditioning replacements. I asked the leader what the criteria was to be the guitarist in the Blind Boys, and he said: “You have o be able to play lead and rhythm simultaneously. You have to sing harmonies really well and listen really well. But the most important thing is, you have to be able to drive.”

(laughs uproariously)

Q: So, what’s the criteria to be in Smashing Pumpkins?

I think I get really offended when the (other Pumpkin members) are referred to as a “rent-a-band.” It’s not the kind of music you can just hire anybody to play. Without the perspective, from the ground up, that’s a key component to play this music.

Q: Is it mandatory that your bassist needs to be a woman?

No, never. I know it looks completely the opposite. But it’s always been whoever seemed like the right person at the moment. In the case of Nicole Fiorentino, the band’s current bassist), I’d said before that maybe it’s time to look at a man for this particular job. Not in a sexist way, but maybe a man would bring a different flavor. But I saw her play and was blown away. When you see somebody, you know they’re the right person.

Q: Your new drummer, Mike Byrne, was literally working at a McDonald’s when you hired him. That must have been a pretty amazing transition for him, thanks to you opening such a big door of opportunity.

Yeah, I’m certainly able to appreciate he is having a rare journey in life. That being said, that was small potatoes compared to (my concern of): “Am I going to get burned by this?” — pun intended. He’s a phenomenal talent. Do I pass on somebody (like him) for somebody who’s an established talent? Believe me, it was more self-preservation for me.

Q: What was the worst day job you had as a kid?

 Um. I worked at a Filipino restaurant for a week — that was pretty bad — cleaning the kitchen, and I got fired because I was eating too much food.

Q: Did you get a song out of it?

(laughs) No, I never got a song out of it.

Q: The guitar solos on “A Song for a Son” are pretty hot, and then there’s the nice harmony guitar lines that follow. Did you play both parts on record, and then have Jeff Schroeder play in unison with you?

No, that’s all me.

Q: How do you do it live?

Live, Jeff takes the first lead and me the second. At that point, I was just recording with Mike on drums and me doing everything else. Now, we’re recording as a unit. It changes . Back in the ‘90s, when I was working with (producer) Butch (Vig), it would be (recorded) in order — the drums, then bass the rhythm guitar and lead, and vocals. These days I’ll record a bunch of guitars first, then the other instruments.