Jerry Cantrell Creating the Iconic Sound of Alice In Chains
Table of contents
- I collect riffs constantly, then sort through them when it's time to create something new.
- Music isn't just heard, it's felt—every riff, every bend, every note.
- Layering different guitar tones and amps can make a track sound massive if done right.
- Creating music with Joe is like playing in a room full of toys, finding the perfect sound for each song.
- Creating music is a journey of blending riffs and melodies, starting with raw ideas and refining them into something meaningful.
- Creating mixtapes and learning music by ear taught me to live in the moment and embrace the journey.
- Seattle's music scene in the late 80s and early 90s was a unique, vibrant, and collaborative explosion that changed music forever.
- Seattle's music scene thrived on camaraderie, each band's success fueling the rise of legends like Pearl Jam and Nirvana.
- Balance is key: in music, life, and everything in between.
- You don't win every battle, but you can win the war by staying true to your vision and embracing collaboration.
- Perfection isn't about being flawless; it's about capturing the right vibe.
- No matter how much the music industry changes, making a great record and promoting it remains the same.
- I focus on playing and creating music, leaving the tech and gear to the experts so I can stay in the moment and deliver my best.
- Rock and Roll isn't for everyone; it finds its people and creates a magical, real connection.
- A guitar solo should be as impactful as a vocal part, full of vibe and musicality, not just technique.
I collect riffs constantly, then sort through them when it's time to create something new.
Jerry, welcome and thank you. It's such an honor to meet you. I'm such a huge fan of Alice in Chains, your solo work, and your guitar playing. Your guitar parts are incredible. I've been listening to your new solo record, and it just has all these great riffs. How do you come up with them? Do you just sit around and think, "Okay, that's cool," and then put it on your phone somewhere? How do you even keep track of everything?
I probably consider myself a collector and curator of riffs. It always starts there; it always does. There are very few tunes that start any other way. Sometimes I'll hum it; I'll hear it in my head and hum it into a phone or a microphone. Back in the old days, I used a little tape recorder or four-track, but today it's easy to just use the phone. That's probably the easiest thing, like the old K Shack recorder that you talk into or Fletch. I've got a good ear for when I stumble across something interesting, and I don't want that to go away. If I don't put it down, it's going to disappear in the wind. I've had enough of those happen in the early years, so now I record everything.
I don't write all the time, but I collect all the time. When I feel like it's time to write, there's a collection of 200-300 riffs to cycle through, plus all the other batches from different records. Some good stuff is still laying there, and I will recycle some of those if I can find a place where they fit. For instance, the record coming out on October 18th took the better part of a year to write, demo, pre-produce, and record. We wrapped that up in April or May, and now I'm on the road. We're going to release the record and then spend another year or so touring. At this point, I'm not writing anymore, but I'm still playing. I'll be in the dressing room or sitting around and come across a riff, and I'll just keep recording them. When it's time to make another record, I'll go through whatever I've come up with and start cycling through.
How do you know when you've come up with something that's going to lend itself to a great melody? It's really just fooling around with the main riff and building out from there. Often, it's not just one riff; I usually have a good two-parter. I'll have a riff and then maybe a transition on where to take that into a verse, bridge, middle eight, or solo section. Generally, you're going to need about three or four parts to make a song interesting. Some of the coolest songs I've ever written are just two parts, and some of my favorite songs by other artists are two-part songs. But generally, you'll need a good intro, verse, bridge, and chorus. It's just messing around with stuff by feel. I'm not a trained or schooled musician. I took some choir in school and enjoyed that. I played a little bit of band, like clarinet. I was raised in a household of music; my mother and aunt played the organ. I've always been surrounded by and interested in music, but the last time I could read sheet music was probably sixth or seventh grade. So, mostly it's just by ear.
Check My Brain—that riff. Most people I know are like, "How is he playing that?" You play it on the second fret, first fret, first fret, first fret, bend into the second fret, bend, and then back down and then back to the bend. Let me play it here so people know what I'm talking about.
[Music]
That is so cool. How do you stumble on something like that?
Music isn't just heard, it's felt—every riff, every bend, every note.
Oregon and so did my aunt, so you know, I've always been surrounded by and interested in music. But, I mean, I think the last time I could look at a sheet of paper and read it was probably like sixth grade or seventh grade. So mostly, it's just by ear, you know? Yeah, check my brain. That riff, most people that I know were like, "How is he playing that?" Yeah, you play that. What is it? Second fret, first fret, first fret, first fret, first fret, band into the second fret, band, and then back down, and then back to the bend of the... Yeah, I want to play it here so that people know what I'm talking about.
[Music]
G, that is so cool. It is, yeah. How do you stumble on something like that? Now, I can understand other things, but that is... I don't know any riff that's like that. It's like slightly out of tune, not quite a full bend. A lot of my riffs have, you know, our big bendy riffs, and that's something I've kind of made part of my signature batch of riffs and stuff like that. And I probably get that by listening to, you know, like Sabbath, Tony Iommi, and Ace Frehley was a big bender, and I was a big fan of his when I was a kid too. So yeah, I remember just stumbling across that, and I thought it was weird. It makes me feel the same way every time, kind of sick, you know, a little bit of seasick. Right, and try playing it live and singing in key over that, it's pretty tough. That's another example of, like, I thought that was really interesting. I'd never heard anything like that before, and so I thought it was good, and I put it down.
I remember the first time I played that for, you know, we were kind of putting this material together for Black Gives Way to Blue, and we were considering taking a real big step moving on after Lane's passing and breathing new life into the band and deciding to continue on. So they came from that batch of writing, and I remember playing that for Nick Raskulinecz, and he heard that riff and he's like, "I'm in." That was it, "I'm in." So that's all I needed to hear was that riff, the opening riff of that song. So now, speaking of that, the way that goes into the chorus, because then it goes into more of the held chords for the chorus, you got to get some relief from it. Yeah, and then it's got this beautiful, huge musical chorus. You got to get a little relief from it, and then you go back to feeling sick.
This particular record has so many guitar layers on it. You guys did a really cool thing in that you filmed in the studio when you were making this. For those of you that haven't seen this, you can look it up on YouTube. You first put them out as a bunch of little, you know, couple-minute, what would you call it, like just documenting making the record, I guess, little vignettes of moments in time, documenting stuff. We like to keep the cameras rolling when we're working just to capture stuff. It was really fun, and it also, I think, gave a lot of insight into how you come up with the guitar layers of different amps. So you could see you had a Jubilee there, you had a Plexi, I think you were using, you had a bunch of different guitar amps.
The first track on here, All Secrets Known, that's a huge guitar sound by itself, but then you come in with the held chords. It's amazing how the vocals are clear. Did Randy Staub mix this record too? Right, Nick produced it. Yeah, that's right. Randy did the The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here, I think. The guitars are so fat in the beginning, it's like, okay, well, how can anything else fit in there? And not only do the other guitars fit, but then there's space for the vocals. It's really, and the drums and bass are massive. I mean, it's really a well-produced record.
That is one of my favorite riffs of yours too. Oh, thanks. I do like the layered tones and sounds. I gotta give credit to Dave Jerden, our first producer on Facelift and Dirt. He kind of opened me up to, you know, I was just used to using one guitar and one...
Layering different guitar tones and amps can make a track sound massive if done right.
Randy did the send the devil put dinosaurs here, right? Nick produced it. Yeah, that's right. Randy did the send the devil put dinosaurs here. The guitars are so fat in the beginning, it's like, okay, well, how can anything else fit in there? And not only do the other guitars fit, but then there's space for the vocals. It's really well produced. The drums and bass are massive. I mean, it's really a well-produced record. That is one of my favorite riffs of yours too. Oh, thanks. I do like the layer tones and sounds. I gotta give credit to Dave Jordan, our first producer on Facelift and Dirt. He kind of opened me up to recording different frequencies with different amps and guitar combos.
For instance, a high kind of Rockman with a more trebly guitar, something in the middle that's a little chunkier, and then something bassy way down below. This way, you're getting all the frequencies by the tracking. I'm pretty good at locking to myself, so if you do that right, it sounds pretty massive. If you do it wrong, it actually ends up sounding smaller than you want. The only way you can get away with doing that is by making sure all the layers are slightly different and blending together.
I'd like to take a second to talk to you about this channel. Believe it or not, 57% of the people that watch here regularly are not subscribed. So I would encourage you to hit the subscribe button now. This will help me get even more of my dream guests in the future. Thank you.
Dave did an interview in some recording magazine a long time ago, about 25 years or so. He talked about using three different amps: one for the bass, a Vox for the mid-range, and something else for the top end, maybe a Bogner. There was also an old Marshall modded by Bogner, which was the main amp I used probably on Facelift and Dirt. He mentioned splitting the signal between three amps. Instead of dealing with EQ on the board and all the channels, all your EQ is already recorded in a really pure raw form.
On this new record, I want blood. Joe Breezy is a mad scientist in his own right. I started and learned and made some great records with Dave, continued that with Toby Wright, and then Nick Raskulinecz fit right in with that too, and so does Joe Breezy. The reason I work well with all of them is that they are really well-versed in gear and tone. They are also musicologists and historians. They know details like Jeff Beck used this amp here and the BTO bag talk box. I wouldn't know any of that, but they do. So I can explain something to them that I'm going for, and they know what that is. We try stuff out and take time. We had early success as a band, which afforded us the opportunity to operate at a slower pace and be more free. We didn't have anybody over our shoulders telling us what to do musically because we had already proved ourselves.
Joe was a big fan of Jordan's work on those two records and was curious about recreating some of those scenarios. We whipped out the old Bogner Fish that I had, and I'm playing that live right now on tour. The Bogner Fish is a great amp. It's a noisy beast but a badass amp. It's a preamp, and in the old days, I used a VHT power amp. Right now, I'm using a Fryette, which is basically the same thing. A lot of people have moved more towards just straight-up heads, and I had too, with the Double J that I helped put together with Dave.
Creating music with Joe is like playing in a room full of toys, finding the perfect sound for each song.
We got that part handled, you handle that, and that's why we're in business with you. Joe was actually a big fan of Jordan's work on those two records and he was really curious about recreating some of those scenarios. So, we whipped out the old Bogner Fish that I had, and I'm playing that live right now on tour. The Bogner Fish is a great amp; it's a noisy beast but it is a badass amp. It's a preamp, and in the old days, I used a VHT power amp. Right now, I'm using a Fryette, which is basically the same thing. A lot of people have moved more towards heads, and I had too, with the Double J that I helped put together with Dave Fredman. That's a great rock and roll amp, but when we started, we got into the pre-phase.
Joe did what all of my previous partners had done, which is lay out all the toys. You lay them all out, put all the heads together, stack a bunch of cabs, try different mics, and use all sorts of different effects. You just start tinkering around until you find what works for the song. It's fun to actually get sounds like that with somebody like Joe. It's good working with somebody who gets me. Not everybody would, you know? I've been really fortunate to not work with a ton of people throughout my career. It's just a handful of producers and a handful of people. Most of the people in our management team, business team, and legal representation are pretty much the same. There are a few people that have moved on or passed, but that's kind of been the case.
This is my third record working with Joe. The previous two, "Brighton" and "Rainier Fog" with Alice, he mixed. On this one, I knew I wasn't going to have Tyler Bates in the way that I had him and Paul Figaroa on the previous album "Brighton." I knew Paul was out because he had projects, and Tyler was already committed to Manson, movies, and other things. He still was a big help in bouncing ideas and helping me mold the arrangements. He's just a really talented guy. But I needed somebody to go the whole way and build from the ground up. I think I played "Vilified" and maybe "Let It Lie" or something like that, but within a song and a half, he was like, "I'm in, I'm in." So, it was kind of cool to be able to go from the ground up with him all the way since we'd only previously done mixing.
"Vilified" starts in six, then it goes to seven, and then it goes back to six. You've always used odd time signatures, like in a song like "Them Bones." What makes you write in weird time signatures like that? It's just a feel thing; it's what comes naturally to me. I like surprises, you know what I mean? I like a good right hook out of nowhere, like "What the [__] just happened?" Or a shift from fourth gear to first to slow it way down. I really like doing that musically, and I love music that takes you on that sort of journey. I guess I'm kind of seeking to put some of that in there in a natural way whenever it feels right. Luckily, I've stumbled onto weird things that fit together in different time signatures. It's usually a person like yourself or Sean, our drummer, who asks, "Where's the one in that? What's the count on this? What's the time signature?"
I remember when I got "Dirt," I put on the CD and didn't realize how loud my stereo was. The first song, "Them Bones," comes on and I jumped because there's a scream. It just crushes from the beginning, but then the way it goes into four in the chorus, you know better than I do. I have to believe, say we're falling to the grave. I feel so alone, going to end up a big old...
Creating music is a journey of blending riffs and melodies, starting with raw ideas and refining them into something meaningful.
When discussing the process of creating music, it's clear that individuals like yourself, Sean, or a drummer often ask questions such as, "Where's the one in that?" or "What's the count on this?" or "What's the time signature?" I recall a vivid memory when I first got the album "Dirt." I put on the CD without realizing how loud my stereo was, and when the first song, "Them Bones," started, I jumped because of the scream from Lane. The song crushes from the beginning, and then it transitions into four in the chorus. The lyrics go, "I feel so alone, gonna end up a big old B," and it feels so natural, perhaps because I've heard it a billion times. The transition to four and then back to seven at the very end, where you chop a note and drop back into seven, is seamless.
The bass drum pattern changes, making it sound like it's just jammed, which is how we often work up a lot of our stuff in the jam room. Sean and I have been together the longest. Although I met Lane and Mike first, Sean was the first guy to come down to jam. We are a unit, and the way we play together is unique. He's an interesting player, and I think I am too, and we are both better because of our career together and all the time spent.
I don't know any tune that just goes half steps, yet the melody sounds so natural over it. Creating a beautiful melody over chords that change by just a half step is a good example, probably related to "Check My Brain." If the music is abrasive, jagged, and has much movement, the vocal needs to be fairly straight and simple. It's easier to perform with less movement on top and all the action underneath. Conversely, you can have simple music and take the vocals all over the place. Generally, the music comes first to me. It begins with the riff and develops into a piece of music that makes a great song. I start humming nonsense lyrics and melodies over it until I get a melody. The last bit is figuring out what you actually want to say, which is always the hardest part.
Back in the early '90s, I would use a cassette player to play stuff in the car and drive around singing along to come up with lyrics. I've been making demo tapes since junior high. I had a sound design stereo system that my cousin Kyle bought at a swap meet for five bucks. It had two speakers, a turntable on top, an eight-track in the front, and a guitar jack on the back. I could record eight-track tapes off the radio, play records, and plug in to learn and play along with them. I had a little studio early on when I first got interested in playing. I would make my own mixtapes by listening to local rock stations like KISW and KZ. I would buy old eight-track tapes, break the tabs off, and record over them. I spent nights with my finger on the button, recording songs I liked, and making my own mixtapes.
Creating mixtapes and learning music by ear taught me to live in the moment and embrace the journey.
I kind of had a little studio really early on, when I first got interested in playing. I would make my own mixtapes, listening to the local rock stations, KISW and KZ. I would buy old Atack tapes, like Share, Three Dog Night, or Canned Heat—stuff that I didn't listen to. I would break the tabs off, put them in, and record. I would sit up all night with my finger on the button, hitting record. Sometimes, I would already have "Cat Scratch Fever" recorded, so I would have to play it back and wait again. I would make my own mixtapes of stuff that I liked or wanted to learn and then spend time trying to learn them by ear.
There are probably boxes of tapes from back then, likely rotting away. When we transitioned to the digital age, a lot of that stuff still existed. We still have many tapes stored and laying around—both bigger tapes and smaller ones. I haven't really looked through any of that stuff. I don't spend a lot of time looking back; I try to stay in the moment and not look too far into the future or the past. One of the interesting parts about promoting a record and talking about your work is that it affords you a little time to reflect. By staying in the moment and dealing with things as they come, taking some shots and chances, I've come a long way. It's been a really interesting journey, and I'm still on it.
You have such an interesting way of harmonizing, like you did with Layne. That's you singing along with them, right? You two singing together? There's nobody that does the type of intervals that you would do in the melody together. Is that just something that you hear that way, that you like these kinds of parallel harmonies? Yeah, and then you'll split off into thirds in the choruses. We liked a lot of the same music but also had very individualistic tastes. He had an uncanny ability, like a miner bird, to mimic anyone's accent or repeat a line from a movie verbatim. He was also a fan of harmony, and so was I.
When we first started writing songs together, it was an organic process. You're just trying to write some songs and figure out what your language is. It took us probably a year or a year and a half of emulating other things until we started stumbling on something cool and thinking, "Hey, this might be us." It's the same for all bands; it depends on how long that gestation period is until you make your first record that feels really you. Sometimes it doesn't happen until the second or third record for some bands. For us, on Facelift, I think we were about 90-95% in focus on that record as far as whatever we are. There were still some remnants of stuff we were still yet to shake off, but we shared that in common and created it together.
It still makes me feel good to continue that tradition and think of him. I miss him to death, but I appreciate the time we had and the music we made together. I carry on the tradition that we started together.
Seattle's music scene in the late 80s and early 90s was a unique, vibrant, and collaborative explosion that changed music forever.
I feel like for us on FAFT, we were about 90-95% in focus on that record. It was all us, but there were still some remnants of stuff we were yet to see off, some old scan if you will. We shared that in common, and it's something we created together. It still makes me feel good to continue that, makes me think of him, and of course, I miss him to death. I appreciate the time we had and the music we made together, and I carry on the tradition that we started together.
Do you think that something like what happened in Seattle at the time could ever happen again? Sure, because it was an interesting time. There was so much great music, and music was already changing in the late 80s. There was a heavier, more aggressive element to it, not just in our town but across the globe. Things were changing, and it felt like the change was even bigger. There seemed to be an inordinate amount of people the same age who were receptive and liked all of this stuff. They had the crazy idea like, "Man, I'd like to do that too, that sounds cool. Let's get a band together." So, you put an ad in the back of the music paper or ask your buddies if they know a good bass player.
Seattle and the whole area from Olympia and Aberdeen to Spanaway, Bellevue, and up around the U District was just littered with bands. We were all like two to three years apart in age at most, so it was kind of cool. We also had a pretty rich history already with bands like Queensrÿche, Heart, and Hendrix. Those were the three big ones that preceded our class, if you will. It was a pretty vibrant scene, and music and the arts were celebrated there. It’s kind of out of the way, and I think that's a big part of why we had time to gestate and develop into what we became without any meddling from anybody. Nobody cared about the Northwest until we made them care about it.
Radio stations, especially local stations, played local bands. We had some good college radio stations too, really cool indie college stations around town that played great stuff. You felt like you were part of something, like something was happening, and you were actually part of it. That’s a pretty cool feeling for a young person.
Among the big Seattle bands, we were actually the third band signed. There was the Sub Pop crowd and the SST's Sub Pop bands, which we weren’t really a part of. That was more like the Nirvana, Mudhoney, Soundgarden, Green River, Mother Love Bone camp. Soundgarden was the first band to be signed by a major label, A&M. Quickly after that, Mother Love Bone was signed, and we were signed by Columbia after that. We were the first band to break MTV open and have a gold record. We had the first big bout of success, but you can’t look at it in that microcosm. Soundgarden’s records, their videos, and Mother Love Bone were really important bands. Mudhoney and even before that, Green River, were all little stepping stones. Even though we weren’t working together, we were all helping each other with all the success we kept having individually and as a group collectively, even though it wasn’t planned that way. With each one of our successes, it gave rise to a bigger thing until it gained critical mass, and then Pearl Jam and Nirvana happened.
Seattle's music scene thrived on camaraderie, each band's success fueling the rise of legends like Pearl Jam and Nirvana.
We had our first big bout of success, but you can't look at it in that microcosm. Soundgarden's records and their videos, Love Bone, Mud Honey, and even before that, Green River, were all really important bands. They were all little stepping stones, and even though we weren't working together, we were all helping each other with the success we kept having individually and collectively. It wasn't planned that way, but with each one of our successes, it gave rise to a bigger thing until it gained critical mass, and then Pearl Jam and Nirvana happened.
I interviewed Chris Novoselic, Kim Thayil, and Jack Endino together. What was fascinating was the camaraderie between the bands. It was genuine and went back into the 80s. People would get together, have beer parties, and play in their apartments. Seattle-Tacoma area isn't that big, so you knew everybody or knew someone who knew the other person. It was a cool time, and a lot of that music still stands today. I love seeing all those people when I get the chance, usually when we meet up on the road somewhere.
When asked how I know when a record is done, I always listen to my mixes in my car. It's fun listening in a studio where you can crank up the speakers, but when you're in the mixing process with someone like Joe Breezy, who listens at the lowest volume with tiny, crappy Radio Shack speakers, you realize if it sounds good on those, it'll sound good on everything. For me, it's always my car. I got a new car a couple of years ago and had to get used to the listening space because each vehicle is different.
When it comes to knowing a record is done, I know pretty early in the recording process. The blueprint is all there. We've never been a band with a lot of extra stuff. When we put a record out, that's all we had. There might be partial riffs, but no extra songs. For this record, I walked in with nine songs and had them in order, except for two songs in the middle that were flipped. I knew it was going to start with "Vilified" and end with "It Comes." I had a pretty good idea of what I was doing before I went in there. When all the boxes are checked—vocals, guitar, percussion, etc.—then the record is done.
Regarding mixes, I think it's got to be like a flat triangle. For Alice, we evolved into being a four-piece, with Lane picking up the guitar on a couple of tunes, and when we invited William into the band, he was a pretty significant addition.
Balance is key: in music, life, and everything in between.
When the work is done, it means all the boxes are checked: vocals checked, guitar checked, percussion checked. You have a big board of empty spaces, and when all of them have an X through it, then your record is done. The bass drum and bass guitar are crucial. When listening to a mix, do you prefer a bass-dominant mix or bass drum being dominant on a rock song? For me, it's got to be like a flat triangle. We evolved into being a four-piece with Lane picking up the guitar on a couple of tunes, and when we invited William into the band, he's a pretty amazing guitar player as well. Mostly, I approach things from a three-piece setup, like Van Halen: singer, guitar player, bass player, and drums. If you're going to operate that way, it's got to be a triangle where the drums, bass, and guitar are equally important. If you take the drums and bass away from the guitar, the guitar loses all its nuts. It's the use of space in songwriting and recording, but also in the mix of those three instruments. They have to be pretty equally balanced, maybe with the guitar just a little bit over the top, but not by much. That's what I mean by a flat triangle.
You guys toured with Van Halen in the early 90s, right? Speaking of Michael Anthony and Alex Van Halen, when those guys played together, it was otherworldly. Each band has its own flavor of otherworldly. There's nobody that sounds like Mike Starr, myself, and Sean played together, or Mike Inez, myself, and Sean. Those are two really unique threesomes. When a song would be a hit, we picked all our singles. We fought with them over a couple of early ones. For example, I don't think they were really stoked that "We Die Young" was our first, but we wanted to go with it, and it made sense. We had done a homemade hometown video with the local art institute, and then we reshot it for real with Rocky Schenck. That was a really cool video. Even the little club video we did was fun too. It just had attitude, and I'd never heard a guitar riff like that. The way Lane sang it was a mission statement song. Starting there, you can go anywhere you want.
I remember when we were picking "Man in the Box," they said it was too long and too slow. We insisted it was the single. We had "Jesus Christ, deny your maker." People said there would be picketing, but we didn't care. That song was a badass tune and became the next single. It was huge and got us a gold record. They did edit it for radio, taking out the explicit parts, but quickly after, they started playing the normal version. You don't win every battle, but you can win the war. Most of the time, we got our way. Compromises usually left a bad taste in our mouths, so we tried to do it as little as possible. We're human, though, and not immune.
When you have a mixer like Randy Staub, or "Stab Goblin" as we call him, would you go to the mixing sessions? Yes, I'm in on everything. I can't leave things to chance. I'm not that sort of architect; I have to be in there.
You don't win every battle, but you can win the war by staying true to your vision and embracing collaboration.
You don't win every battle, but you can win the war, and I believe we definitely won the war in that respect. Most of the time, we got our way. A couple of things that we made compromises on usually left us with a bad taste in our mouths, so we tried to do it as little as possible. But we're not immune; we're human. For example, when you have a mixer like Randy, who we call "stab Goblin," you have to be involved in the mixing sessions.
I am in on everything because I can't leave things to chance. I'm not that sort of architect; I have to be in there. Typically, Randy would mix about one song a day, maybe a day and a half. He takes his time and is a real craftsman. It might have been a little unusual for him to have me around, but mixing is like the baby being born, and I have to be in the room when it's being delivered. I don't want to miss out on that final moment where I can say, "Alright, I'm done, it sounds right."
Sometimes, Randy or Joe would ask me to come in later, maybe around 11:30 PM or the next day at noon, to allow them to do their job. I'm not a mixer, but I do have a pretty good ear, and I am the architect. I know how the thing is supposed to look and sound. It's a very personal thing. What might be important to Joe or Randy in the mix might not serve what I intend for the architecture to look like. For example, adjusting the harmony above the lead vocal might be a small detail that only I would hear because I've been involved from the beginning.
It's a collaborative process. I've been talked into some good moves by those guys as well. Sometimes, they'll show me the move I wanted, and I'll realize it doesn't sound as good as their suggestion. Making music is a collaborative thing, whether you're working in a band or on a solo record. It's not a solo effort; it's a group of people, a band, a village. It takes a lot of people to bring in a piece of work, and I like being part of a team. It's necessary.
Regarding recording with clicks on the early records, not really. Maybe for some sections if we were having trouble catching a transition. When tracking a new record, sometimes I record stuff at home that I bring in. Even if it's not recorded in the greatest way, with a bunch of noise and a shitty mic, sometimes you can't recreate the vibe. Catching the vibe is more important than perfection.
Perfection isn't about being flawless; it's about capturing the right vibe.
When tracking a new record, sometimes you can't recreate something even if it's recorded in a less-than-ideal way. It might be a bunch of noise with a shitty mic and not the greatest tone, but there's a vibe to it. The most important thing is catching the vibe rather than perfection. For instance, if you listen to tracks from Pink Floyd, Zeppelin, The Beatles, or The Stones, you can hear many imperfections like being out of key, out of time, noise on the amp, and tape recorded over so many times that you can hear other vocal tracks. However, when you put it all together, that's what makes the song as badass as it is. This teaches that it does not have to be perfect; it just has to have the right vibe.
When making a new record, there are always demos for everything. During the demo process, you try to get pretty close without beating it to death. You aim for a good basic drum take, the basic feel, the basic baseline, maybe some melodies, and a couple of color lines. You don't want to make it too perfect because you know you're going to rerecord it. However, you still try to make it pretty good to know if it's good. You don't want to finish it off at that point because you want to leave some room for it to grow, for some magic to happen, and for some surprises to come along. You can beat the life out of a track if you record it too much. So, you record just enough to get it in good shape and then move on to another one until you have a body of work that sounds like a record.
Once you have a body of work, you call up musicians like Gil Chiron, Mike Bordon, Robert Trujillo, Duff McKagan, Greg Pado, Lila Colette, Vincent Jones, and Tyler Bates to play the stuff. When mixing the record, you might add a little part here or there. For example, Joe might say, "I think it needs a little part right here." In the first two projects, he had to mix somebody else's stuff and would notice things like a chair squeaking on an acoustic guitar track. He would grab the guitar off the wall and replay it real quick. Even during the mixing process, he might ask for a better vocal take if he thinks it can be improved. For instance, the Afterglow vocal was redone in one take during the mixing process, and it turned out to be a better vocal.
Releasing a record in 2024 differs from 2009 or 1992 mainly in terms of methods, tools, media, and times. However, the essence of making a great record, releasing it, promoting it, and touring it remains pretty much the same.
No matter how much the music industry changes, making a great record and promoting it remains the same.
You know what, dude? I thought you had a good vocal on that, but now I'm not so sure. Get in there and re-sing it, like right now. I'm like, okay, we're mixing the record. He's like, I think you can beat it, do it. And we did, and I think Afterglow I did in one take. It was a better vocal. Yeah, it's really good what's there, but I think he can do better, and he was right.
How does releasing a record in 2024 differ from 2009 or 1992? I can't really think about it any differently. The methods, tools, media, and times are the things that change. Making a great record, releasing it, promoting it, and touring it all remain pretty much the same. That's where I keep my focus because that's the only thing I have any control over. Many things have changed over the years, but that really hasn't. First, you have to make a great record. You've got to do the work to promote it. You need to put together a creative team, whether that's a record company or individuals who have worked in the record business, to promote territories and get it out there. Partnering up with a company to distribute it and vinyl deals all pretty much remain the same. Having three or four songs that you hope can make an impact with people is crucial. I'm not saying it's any better than the rest of the material, but some songs are special. I think Vilified is special, Afterglow is special, I Want Blood is special, and Throw Me a Line is special. I also think Let It Lie is special as well. We'll see how many songs we focus on; it usually comes down to about three or four per cycle. We're going to drop another one this week, so we'll be through Vilified and Afterglow and probably hope to get another two that can make an impact with people next year. We'll see where it goes from there.
One of those things when I was watching Black Gives Way to Blue, going back to that, is you used a lot of different guitars for layering. This is something you've probably done forever, right? Yeah. How many guitars do you own, Jerry? Not as many as you would think. I've got a few. I probably have, I don't know, 100 to 150 guitars somewhere. Down at rehearsal, I surprise myself when I go down there once in a while, like, oh, I forgot I had that. But the core remains the same. It's the two OG G&Ls that I bought in Dallas, Texas, when I was working at a music store in 1985. I still play them: the blue dress and the no war, and the white drip Les Paul with the burns all over it. Those three guitars are pretty much on every record I've done. The G&Ls since the beginning, and that Les Paul probably made an entrance in the mid-90s and has been part of the process. I've been using Les Pauls layered with the G&Ls; that's pretty much my sound. Then all sorts of different amps: Marshalls, Bogner, Fredman's, back to Bogner, whatever. Those are the core, and then you fill in cracks with whatever color and brush you want to use, like different heads, cabinets, effects, and guitars. Throw in a V, give me a V, a Plexi, and a Big Muff, whatever, plug it in, go.
Now, will you use a pedal, for example, to tighten your sound, like a distortion pedal or anything like that? All the time. What are some pedals that you like? As far as what I use live, I'm not a big gear head. My tech, Brian Herb, runs all my effects. We'll set them up and create patches together, but he flies that side of the plane. I don't even want to mess with that. Joe Breezy does all the recording and gear setup. I don't want to mess with that either. I just want to play, write, be in the moment, and do my thing. There are other people who are good at those things. It's not that I couldn't be; I just gave up trying to be good at those things and focused on being good at this. That seems to be working out for me.
I focus on playing and creating music, leaving the tech and gear to the experts so I can stay in the moment and deliver my best.
As far as what I use live, I'm not a big gear head. My tech, Brian Herb, runs all my effects. We set them up and create patches together, but he handles that side of things. Joe Breezy manages all the recording and gear assembly. I prefer to focus on playing, writing, and being in the moment. There are others who excel at those technical aspects, and while I could potentially be good at them, I chose to concentrate on my strengths. This approach has worked well for me, allowing me to collaborate with experts I trust, and they trust me to deliver.
The only effects I personally handle are my crybaby, which is my number one effect, the talk box occasionally, and a roto vibe. I also use MXR phasers, choruses, and various other pedals. We have gates and EQs, but I'm not a detailed play-by-play guy—Joe can tell you every detail about the record. During the recording process, we experiment and sometimes stumble upon new things. For instance, on the record "I Want Blood," we heavily leaned on the talk box and crybaby, revisiting an old flavor of mine that suited the material.
We also used something new to me—the Boda bag, the Jeff Beck B bag with a tiny wood bead that he puts between his teeth. Joe introduced me to it, and it was an interesting, expressive talk box. You can hear it on the track "Vilified," just before the third B part, during the line "Oh my savior, our failure."
Playing the talk box is weird but fun. It doesn't feel like much in the moment, but through the mic, it sounds huge and distinct. I've always admired Joe Wallace, an excellent talk box player. I often go for dissonant notes in vocal melodies, which I believe contributes to the appeal of my music. This particular dialect of music is something I speak better than most, which might explain why people resonate with my songs. There are many great musicians and artists, but what makes each person unique is their individual dialect, and mine seems to find its audience, even if it's not for everyone.
Rock and Roll isn't for everyone; it finds its people and creates a magical, real connection.
The reason people connect to your songs is because of these unique elements. What works for me and my music is that I speak this particular dialect better than most. I like to think so, anyway. There are many great musicians and artists on this planet, but what makes each individual unique is the sum of their parts. It’s not easy to explain, other than to say that I speak this dialect a little better than someone else, or maybe it aligns more with a very small sliver of folks. Conversely, that's why it finds its audience. Rock and Roll is not supposed to be for everybody; it’s supposed to be for its people. It goes out there, finds its people, and speaks to them. That’s kind of magical and ethereal. You can't put your finger on what that is, but it’s a real connection that happens. It’s 100% real.
Regarding the technical aspects of a song, there aren’t as many tracks as you might think. There’s one guitar left, one guitar right, a bass track that’s probably a DI, and a SansAmp track. The drum tracks might have a couple of color things up the middle with the Crybaby Talk Box baritone and then the solo track. When I say "color things," I mean little melody lines, transition parts, and stuff like that. These elements layer in to create special moments. Historically, I would do just a main left and right track or use the Jordan method, which involves left, right, and then left, right, left, right with different frequencies and stacking. For this one, we pared it back to just left and right on most of the main rhythms.
When double-tracking guitars, I usually use a different guitar for each part to get a bit of variance. Sometimes it makes sense to use the same guitar but with a different amp. The pickup configurations can vary; it only matters what works. There’s no specific equation to it; it’s about trying things out. For example, in the previous song "Throw Me a Line," we didn’t start with the PAFs but ended up there because the G&Ls didn’t sound dirty enough. We went with the PAFs and the Juniors to get that attitude. It’s a process of experimenting to see what works, which is part of the fun.
Guitar solos have always been a staple in your music. Despite the misconception that grunge bands didn’t have guitar solos, every band had them in every song. For you, a guitar solo is as important as a vocal part; it has to have that singing impact. You’re a huge fan of Eddie Van Halen, but you knew early on that you wouldn’t be able to emulate his style. Instead, you leaned towards players like Iommi, Page, and the Young Brothers, favoring a more meat-and-potatoes approach.
A guitar solo should be as impactful as a vocal part, full of vibe and musicality, not just technique.
As a soloist, it's essential to understand that a solo is a significant part of a song, comparable to a vocal part. It needs to have a singing impact. I'm a huge fan of Eddie Van Halen, but I knew early on that I wouldn't be able to emulate his style. Similarly, I admired Rising Force and loved Yngwie Malmsteen and Steve Vai, along with Steve Morse, who are all incredible shredders. However, I didn't think I could follow that path. Instead, I leaned towards Tony Iommi, Jimmy Page, and the Young Brothers for a more "meat and potatoes" approach.
Solos are important; they need to be lyrical, musical, and take the listener somewhere the song hasn't been. When writing a song, after ramping up and coming back down a few levels, the solo should elevate the piece to another level before dropping it back down into the third verse, bridge, or final chorus. The solo must be memorable and have a vibe that is more important than technique.
When asked about amazing guitar solos, I mentioned that anything Eddie Van Halen did was incredible. Angus Young is a genius lyrical soloist, and Jimmy Page is also impressive. David Gilmour plays with a real fire in an understated way, occasionally breaking loose, which I appreciate. Tony Iommi would sometimes record two solos at once, placing them on different tracks, which is badass. However, picking one specific solo is challenging because there are so many great ones.
Touring with Van Halen and hearing Eddie play during soundchecks was surreal. Often, I'd walk into the venue and hear him playing through my gear, and it still sounded like Eddie. This experience reinforced that while gear plays a part, the essence of the sound comes from the player.
On this tour, I'm playing songs from my entire career. As a songwriter, I don't often get the chance to do this. I've done four records in my career, with two done back-to-back in 1998 and 2001, and the other two in a two to three-year window recently. This feels like a completion of a circle. While being a member of Alice in Chains has taken most of my attention and focus, there are times when you want to explore and create outside of that context. It's healthy for all members of the band to work on other projects or solo records occasionally.
It's been an honor to be here and share my music. I'm looking forward to the new record coming out and people getting to check it out. Thanks for having me.