Howlin Rain: Ghosts With Long Tales

Stream unreleased tracks from Howlin Rain’s upcoming album Magnificent Fiend at MySpace…

By: Dennis Cook

“The genetics of early rock ‘n’ roll and rhythm & blues is based on the ecstasy of the music and the creation of it. We’re not fighting against that. We’re trying to harness that stuff. But, I don’t want to utilize stuff that Little Richard taught me, though, like, ‘Wooo! Saturday is a killer night to go out dancing.’ That’s been done, perfected and I want the lyrics and poetry to speak to our historical moment,” says bandleader-guitarist-singer-songwriter Ethan Miller, the big brain inside the fantastically limber lumbering of Howlin Rain. “I’m trying to work things from a literary standpoint. When you open a book, say Lolita by Nabokov or any piece of literature or poetry that works, and read through it, even when it’s abstract and works in metaphor, you can find out something about that culture and historical moment. I’m trying to gauge things in that way. All the best art does that.”

So, what’s being said along those lines on Magnificent Fiend (arriving March 4 via a joint release by Birdman Records and American Recordings), the sophomore album by Howlin Rain?

“I wasn’t necessarily trying to make a grand statement or promote my own philosophical judgment. I was trying to open myself up a little more, lyrically, to channel a more metaphorical or fly-on-the-wall moment,” explains Miller. “If somebody opened it up from a time capsule, they wouldn’t think, ‘Oh, this guy hated George Bush like everybody else in his time. It says so here in this song called ‘Fuck George Bush’ [laughs].’ I wanted something closer to sci-fi or crime fiction, where you pull The Postman Always Rings Twice out of the time capsule and wonder, ‘What is the judgment on this time period in history?’ It does tell you something about its time, but also something deeper between the lines. You come away with a judgment call by the artist, a portrayal of the moment.”

Dancers At The End Of Time

The details will haunt us in strange ways
Like snow and smoke and skeletal leaves
Who will resurrect us jive, ass and teeth
Once we’ve all drunk our fill of fire?

Miller is also one-fifth of the holy cosmic tumult known as Comets On Fire, though Howlin Rain is pretty far removed from the inspired clamor of that group, which admittedly isn’t always a fun sonic ride.

“Howlin Rain has really focused my songwriting. It would probably sound more like a side project if it was another completely democratically run group. In Comets it’s not one person’s vision,” said Miller a couple years back when we first spoke about Howlin Rain’s self-titled debut. “Avatar is a little more fun to listen to but a lot of Field Recordings or Blue Cathedral was only fun if you’re a little nihilistic. I wanted to do something where the music was fun and sometimes simplistic as could be, and I could layer some nihilism and darkness in through the lyrics and guitar solos.”

Since then, Howlin Rain has become considerably more thoughtful and collaborative, and what feels like the final lineup appears on Fiend, where Miller (vocals, lead guitar) is joined by Mike Jackson (rhythm guitar), Ian Gradek (bass), Garett Goddard (drums) and Drunk Horse‘s Joel Robinow (keys, horn and harmony vocals). The music on Fiend is reminiscent of beloved cult records like David Crosby’s If I Could Only Remember My Name or The Pretty Things’ S.F. Sorrow fronted by the tough, agile, emotional singing of Lola Versus Powerman-era Dave Davies. It’s a catalytic mixture of heavy and beautiful elements that blurs the pretty acoustic bits with tumultuous rocking. Wind whipped and laughing at the sun, it’s a record that taps into the cultural upheaval around us on a spiritual level, transmuting despair and violence into something a good deal nobler.

“We kind of set these songs up to be mini-epics. There’s kind of multiple movements in each song,” Miller says. “We tried to bring in elements from jazz and ’70s soul music. Those infusions, in particular, do a profound job of mixing ecstasy and sorrow. They give you a jolt of ecstasy when you first hear that music and then give you something that cuts right to the heart.”

There’s also a more pronounced funky white boy vibe than the first Rain album.

“One of the reasons some of it comes across that way was I tried to write differently this time – use different keys and tunings, to use whatever I could to not write the way I usually do. Or to write the kind of songs that are natural to me with different mechanisms,” comments Miller. “For example, ‘Goodbye Ruby,’ which is probably the most expressly funky song [on Fiend], started off as a fast, finger-picked folk-y ballad. So I tried to transpose that to something I’m not used to by using a funk beat.”

This assortment of players really makes Miller’s compositions shine. Live, tunes from the first album feel more inhabited. Simply put, these are the right guys for getting across the things Miller has in his head.

“I wholeheartedly agree with that. It was a long, long writing process to get these songs on the table. Once I was happy with the music and brought them to the guys it was a very quick process to give them their breath and blood to their bodies,” says Miller. “I think that these guys are playing to the song. In Comets, we often play to the energy, and then the song is formed from that energy. In Howlin Rain, we try to get inside these songs, and if I’ve done my job right, there’s an inherent energy to the songs when I’ve brought them to the table. And a lot more of that energy is built trying to honor the song itself.”

Lord Have Mercy

I took your wild peacocks down to the sawmill
And ground their bones into dust and blood meal
A rainbow of feather and shame fell upon my wicked hand

There’s much barking wisdom in Howlin Rain, a wild mixture of light and dark that Ronnie James Dio would give his left nut to conjure with such alarming regularity. Miller’s tunes search for capital “T” truth but do so with a boogie soul that embraces poetry and allegory, shaking off contemporary inhibitors, stated and subliminal. Things that get overly specific invariably stay frozen in their moment and are unable to tap into a larger zeitgeist. As tempting as it is to scream, “Dick Cheney is a massive prick,” art loses power and longevity when it gets mired in details.

“If you get too literal, how can you paint a clear picture of reality, the horrors and the joys of our moment? How can I convey stories about the front lines in Iraq or some of the stuff that happens here in Oakland? How can I make something more beautiful than this incredible cathedral I’ve watched them build down the street by the lake for the past year? Those things are those things, and I just gravitate towards reflecting in my own way,” offers Miller.

There’s a reach to Fiend that reminds one more of Walt Whitman and his type of American spirit than other rock bands.

“[Laughs] I don’t know, man, that’s pretty high praise! The ecstasy of rock ‘n’ roll we were talking about, I’m not just trying to portray us as Americans or me as an American or us at this time as Americans as strictly a negative thing,” says Miller. “There’s also for better or for worse, our all-pervasive American mythologies: being pioneers, diggin’ for gold or riding into the sunset, or riding that missile into our neighbor’s backyard [laughs]. For good or for bad, for the power those mythologies have, they’re also representative of our times, and I tried not to ignore those things.”

Continue reading for more on Howlin Rain…

It’s a jolt to have this music hit Rubin’s eardrum, and his heart some, too, to the point where he wanted our band on his record label. Anyone who wants Comets On Fire or Howlin Rain on their label isn’t doing it for financial reasons initially. They have to love that shit. –Ethan Miller

Nomads

This old motel song
You dig when you’re stoned
But sounds like a cheap shot when you’re sober and cold
But if you’re as stoned as a ghost in the snow
Your eyes will be blue flames

In concert, Howlin Rain is an eloquent pummeling with the audience tied to the tracks as their Grand Funk Railroad chugs on down to the riverside. There’s more sweat and heart and sweet passion to their performances than most rock units will ever dream of, let alone achieve onstage. The mood shifts dramatically through the course of a set, frequently leaving the crowd blissfully befuddled by what they’ve just witnessed. Now, there’s almost always a storytelling vein, where the core ideas of a song aren’t lost in sonic haze, which has sometimes been the case in Miller’s past efforts.

“For eight or nine years with Comets, the stage has been somewhat of a battleground, in a positive way [laughs]. I’m not even talking physically, though that too sometimes, but sonically there’s no fucking way you hear everything that’s going on,” observes Miller. “For me to try and sing in key is almost impossible in Comets with all the loud amps. I can’t have any of Noel’s [Harmonson, vintage electronics sorcerer] stuff in my monitor because you can’t have all those sick tones running around in any key you’re trying to sing, blasting your face off. You can’t hear everything in its entirety, and react to it. In Howlin Rain it’s not the same exact assaulting circumstances. There are moments in a really good room onstage where you can hear everything that’s going on, and that’s a lot to play off of. It’s a whole different vibe where you pick up on all the nuances.”

“I do try to tear some bones out with guitar solos like in Comets but I also get to utilize my voice as that same type of thing, like here’s the level playing ground and here’s the sword we can wield to draw some blood,” says Miller. “I worked hard on the vocals [on Fiend]. It taught me a lot about singing in different ways, different ways to deal with my voice. I’ve had peers on the road tell me, ‘Get on that mic more and let that voice shine.’ Those kind of things really back you up. After living with the vocals in a fog for a long time in Comets, where you really need to turn in a rabid performance and call it good, this is very different.”

One of the other major differences between Howlin Rain and Comets is keyboardist Joel Robinow, who seems to enhance everything he touches.

“He is the secret weapon for Howlin Rain,” says Miller. “He has a profound handle on the artillery of music. When we work on the horn arrangements he can envision good places to start, good ending places, good complexities. I don’t know if an alto or baritone sax would sound better in a section but he’s got a great sense about these things. Piano, guitar, the guy can play anything with keys, strings or anything else that can run through a scale.”

Show Business

Legendary (or notorious depending on who’s talking) producer Rick Rubin took notice of Howlin Rain last year after hearing an early draft of Magnificent Fiend. He liked the band so much that he worked out a joint release deal with Rain’s existing label, Birdman Records. While the band hasn’t yet worked with Rubin behind the boards, it’s hoping to eventually.

“It was a process to get the business part of things together but the band hasn’t seen much change. I felt like we ‘made it’ when I got the first Comets album back from Europe and slipped the vinyl into the hand-silk screened covers and sent the first five copies out into the world and someone wrote back that it was awesome. It’s a jolt to have this music hit Rubin’s eardrum, and his heart some, too, to the point where he wanted our band on his record label,” Miller says. “Anyone who wants Comets On Fire or Howlin Rain on their label isn’t doing it for financial reasons initially. They have to love that shit [laughs]. There’s some matters of artistry that are going to test the financial gain potential. That’s the extra special thing we’ve had with Sub Pop [Comets’ label], Birdman and now with Rick. These people are the inner circle of faith in your music. They’re willing to put their time, their energy, love and money into it to try and get it to the world.”

One place Rubin did offer some advice this time out was on Fiend‘s track order.

“I had the record sequenced differently, and Rick sat me down and said, ‘Look, this is not good sequencing. You’re just doing something bad for the album, where it sounds boring when you do it that way.’ It was kind of the first moment of true honesty between us,” recalls Miller. “He didn’t say how to sequence it but he made me aware of the vibe and how to turn things around. Upon his direction, I got to the final sequencing. He just doesn’t bullshit. There’s no ‘Yes Man’ stuff with him. An honest group of people dealing honestly with art is always better.”

Calling Lightning

We are only slaves
To our distant youths
And coming graves
Let them say
I was a hard working stiff
And sand of the golden age

A genuinely open-hearted and philosophical cat, Miller muses about the future a lot, even as he puts his nimble fingers on the pulse of our shared today.

“I just always want to keep running through new water, keep climbing through the mountains, down one side and up the next,” says Miller. “I don’t dig, I don’t get off on or have any fun just sticking around, musically. Inevitably, even someone who’s trying to move forward will cover some common ground but I never wanted to be an artist that stuck around in one place trying to perfect this particular thing. Let’s make each thing the best we can make it, and put the mistakes we made towards the next one.”

Keep reading for Miller’s song-by-song commentary on their new album…

We kind of set these songs up to be mini-epics… We tried to bring in elements from jazz and ’70s soul music. Those infusions, in particular, do a profound job of mixing ecstasy and sorrow. They give you a jolt of ecstasy when you first hear that music and then give you something that cuts right to the heart. –Ethan Miller

Magnificent Fiend Song-By-Song With Ethan Miller

Requiem

Ethan Miller

If you listen closely, “Requiem” is simply the chord progression that comes into “Dancers” afterwards. Originally I thought it would be cool to do a little synth intro or something before that rocker comes in, but Joel took it to another level where someone said it sounded like a rave. So, we sat him down at a grand piano and then he laid down a really low turning Lesley organ, which gives it a mournful vibe. Then we went outside and Mike Jackson and Eli were working on a King Crimson song on acoustic guitars. Mike was playing Joel’s nice old Tacoma guitar, and he set the guitar behind me on the wall. I didn’t know it was there and I had all these beers in my hands. Everyone got around in a circle and we shotgunned the beers, and we were joking around and I hit the guitar and it fell over and the neck snapped right beneath the head. Joel was kind of in shock. He was kind of dazed and upset, and he started drinking whiskey pretty hard. We hung out for a few, listening to what he’d done on the intro so far, and then he laid the trumpet solo down on top. The original name of the song was ‘Requiem For A Fallen Axe.’ So, the sorrow in the trumpet playing is real. He was so drunk by the time he did it he didn’t remember playing it the next morning.

Dancers At The End Of Time
It’s an homage to Michael Moorcock and his characters in his trilogy. I was teasing out some of the things I saw in that series that have heavy relation to our times. He’s not laying down a black-and-white thing. He’s painting the end of a world with grotesque entitlement and unabashed joy, and finally some realization and guilt, but it all still swirls towards your eventual destination in the universe. That jives with my thing.

Calling Lightning Pt. 2
There are a few lyrics that are the same, a few chords that meet up, but it’s really a different jam [than Pt. 1 on Howlin Rain’s self-titled debut]. Maybe it takes up the narrative. The other one is definitely from a different narrative moment in the character’s life. After I did this, I’m thinking about doing more of this in the future. Artists do this all the time. You see it in works by Gauguin or other painters where they study a certain subject or color in 25 charcoal drawings and eight finished products that have been painted over again and again. There’s something about taking an old canvas and painting over it. I don’t listen to the old song anymore. I don’t play it or feel it. I like the idea of revamping, re-feeling a song. Once an album is finished, mastered and on the shelf it might as well have not existed in my mind. We still play them live, and it breaths life there, but other than going back to check out chord progressions or something I don’t like going back.

Lord Have Mercy
There have probably been a million tunes with this title. We borrowed some gospel moments, in our own way, but it’s really about toying with our own worst natures mixed in with a longstanding obsession with Faust – the character not the band!

Nomads
Both this song and “Calling Lightning Pt. 2” were recorded on the fly outside the Magnificent Fiend sessions for a single. It was the first time I’d played with Joel, and it might be the first time I played with Joel, Eli and Garett, who are the only musicians on those songs. Ian was in Hawaii, John Moloney [Sunburned Hand of the Man] had left the group, and I just didn’t have a group around and wanted to go in and do something. I played them a quick demo of the chord progressions and we went in. Both those songs were either first or second takes. The writing, like “Calling Lightning Pt. 2,” was an attempt to do something a little experimental for my usual thought process, to try and write a classic road song AND write a song about writing songs.

El Rey
There’s some Steely Dan and Curtis Mayfield homage in this one. This is a mixed tribute to Jim Thompson and our soldiers in Iraq. The great crime fiction writers use such rich language. That crime patois is so poetical and yet so economical, which is ideal for lyric writing – rich, super evocative, drenched in vibe and resonance. Yet, it’s the most pared down, sparse, engaging words you can get on a page, and slash-and-burn anything else, leaving you standing there bold as can be.

Goodbye Ruby
‘Ruby’ is probably the most experimental song on the album. Talk about Steely Dan! There’s like 10,000 chords in that song! Often I write riffy turnarounds, and I wanted to see if I could write something with a million chords that’s still funky and groovy and has a swing and a roll to it. I wondered if the chords would add a nice skin or texture. It ends up going a lot of places. It got out a bit from underneath my imagination and took on its own life outside my control. By the end there’s been a choir of electric guitar solos, Chicago style horns, tempo changes, mood changes. Goddamn, the whole kitchen sink is in there!

Riverboat
There’s a little Cormac McCarthy nod to this one, though The Road came out after I wrote it. It’s about the bond of love and protection in the face of apocalypse. I tried to write folkier than I usually do but it’s kind of Yanni meets U2 meets Guns ‘n’ Roses [laughs]. It’s weird but we didn’t think about this combination AT ALL while recording it!

Do yo’self a favor and catch Howlin Rain on tour now…

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