High Watt Electrocutions Interview with Ryan Settee: “When things get too scripted, I eventually have to burn the script.”
This is the second interview I’ve done with Ryan Settee, who is the sole driving force behind everything High Watt Electrocutions writes and records. Last time, the occasion was the self-released sophomore full-length, Desert Opuses, which wholeheartedly took on the sandy aesthetic with which lovers of heavy atmospherics should be well familiar by now. As the Winnipeg native was no less brave in tackling instrumental studio experimentalism and hypnotic droning on his third album, The Bermuda Triangle, a follow-up conversation seemed the least I could do.
Though I think there are ideas on The Bermuda Triangle that could have been fleshed out further, there’s something about the solitary nature of the album I really like. High Watt Electrocutions is just Settee. There’s no filter of other opinions and nothing for him to fall back on. The entire mission of the band rests on his creative will, and on The Bermuda Triangle, just as on the moody debut, Night Songs, he proves that will can lead him anywhere at any time.
The album is comprised of smaller instrumental pieces — blips, some of them — that bleed and fade together and gradually emerge as an engulfing and hypnotic whole. It’s not an album you can skip through (literally or figuratively), but Settee‘s indulgences are the gain of those who would be as adventurous in their listening as he would in his writing. High Watt Electrocutions challenges drone and conventional definitions of “heavy” while also developing an identity all its own as a project. It winds up being as admirable in its mission as in its execution.
We covered generalities last time, so for this discussion, I wanted to get deeper into Settee‘s process as regards The Bermuda Triangle and see what in particular inspired him musically and conceptually for the album. He was forthcoming to say the least. If you consider yourself passionate about music on either end, just take a look at how much what Settee does obviously means to him. It bleeds into his every answer.
Full Q&A is after the jump. Please enjoy.
High Watt Electrocutions doesn’t seem shy about exploring different styles in the same project. Some people writing the songs would make it a new band each time. Is there something tying the three records, each with a different approach, together as High Watt Electrocutions for you? Does there need to be?
Ambition is probably the first thing that I consider. I like lots of different types of music and genres, but there’s always a few that I sort of want to narrow down to each record. On the first album, Night Songs, it was more probably like Spacemen 3/Suicide, on the second record, Desert Opuses, it was more maybe Godflesh/Velvet Underground, this one is probably more like a soundtrack to an unofficial movie about cool, bizarre, ambient and moody tracks on classic rock albums from the ‘60s and ‘70s… The ones that are maybe longer tracks at the end of side A or side B.
But ultimately, I don’t want to make the same album twice. I know that most artists say that, but it’s a bunch of lip service — most of the time one gets the impression that they’re saying that, but they’re really just kinda rehashing their previous stuff in a manner where it seems different. But I can respect that every band past their first record has some sort of expectations, and that those expectations can start to create an environment where you’re under an obligation to give the audience more of the same. Sometimes it’s really difficult for bands to branch out and really put an artistic statement out there, when they’re worried about shifting units and having it be a career or something like that. Though High Watt‘s stuff has been amazingly received in a critical sense, there’s something that goes over the majority of the audience’s head in the sense that it’s too cerebral, too out there — so why not run with it? Why not step out there and make the statement or record that you always wanted to make? We only have a certain period where we’re vital and able to create, so I’d hate to look back years from now and wonder what could have actually been.
I really want to step out of the boundaries and color outside the lines, but in a way that makes sense, spiritually, with what I’d done previously. The mellower tracks on Night Songs, if you take tracks like “Ascension,” “Into the Abyss” (without the heavy part), “Erosion” and “Sunrise,” they all sort of pointed to this one. It just so happened that the ethereal, sunnier songs got made for a whole record as opposed to it being one gear to shift to within a heavier and more mechanical backdrop that I’d probably emphasized on those last two ones. There was no room for stuff like this on Desert Opuses, because that was heavier and more consistently dark and the material didn’t fit in there, though I still liked it and wanted it to see released. This idea just seemed to have the right framework of doing that more cinematic, orchestral, stripped down album that I’d wanted to do.
I love drums, but there’s no drums on most of this record because once you put drums in there, there’s a tendency to make everything louder and more in your face, rather than just sort of gently making its entrance and exit. There’s often a comatose pace on this one, but it’s intended to at least be a consistently comatose pace in which it’s not just formless ambient soundscapes, while not being too overt or bombastic in a typical sense. That being said, it’s often still very bombastic in a quiet way. Instrumental music has typically been a hard sell for the longest time, but there’s always been some great instrumental bands — Earth‘s last few records, Dirty Three, Mogwai — all have a way of using music in a great way to suggest what you might feel like thinking.
What inspired you to work in this specific, pastoral feel for The Bermuda Triangle?
I really love soundtracks. I love the song behind the movie, I love the overall mood that’s created. When I’m watching movies, I’m usually paying attention to the directing and the music. Most of the time, there’s admittedly sort of a background music aspect to instrumental stuff, but I don’t think that music has to be that engaging in order to engage people, you know? Sometimes I like the music to just sort of be there without a real demand for vocals to tell you what to think and slam you over the head with visuals as described in an audio sense, but that being said, if you throw on the headphones with this one — like the last two — there’s another world that opens up, and it’s definitely not background music, because there’s literally layer upon layer where there’s 40-50 tracks on some of those parts.
But then there’s just an acoustic guitar or two at times, as well, and there’s a sense of build up, tension, release and plot flow. Plot flow to movies I really like, too — it’s cliché to have some sort of build up in a movie, but that’s for a reason — some sort of intro, rising action, apex, falling action, outro. The individual parts of The Bermuda Triangle taken as a smaller whole all sort of do that where things often build up on a central riff or melody and then add different textures and build up and down, but the whole pacing of the complete album is also following that arc, too. Or at least hopefully! A couple of people (even Jack Rabid of The Big Takeover, who likes the album too) have told me that either it’s put them to sleep, or they’ve fallen asleep to the record. And they pointed out that it wasn’t as an insult, and none was taken! It’s a sleepy album. If it lulls someone to sleep as some sort of aural hypnosis, that’s cool, too. It’s audio endorphination.
There’s something solitary in the music, but true to the album’s title, you get lost in it. How much of the material was written before you came up with that title?
Thanks! Some of the material goes back right to basically the end of the Night Songs days, through the Desert Opuses days, to various drafts/incarnations of this album which had all differed slightly. One part actually goes back to about 10 years back as a demo and was redone for this record, it was this weird tribal part that surfaces later on in the record. I used to hate redoing songs, but I’ve come to appreciate a different perspective on things after doing this for so many years. Sometimes in the demos, things don’t come out quite right, but there’s something there that warrants a revisiting. So there was and is definitely some songs or riffs or demos that I’d remembered from some time ago that felt right for this.
It seemed like an interesting idea to sort of have the aural equivalent to the Bermuda Triangle area. I mean, obviously some parts of the album were written and recorded before the overall concept came together, but the other songs that were done in this vein were finished to complete this overall concept. And I’m still not totally sure if I necessarily like the term “concept album” as it sometimes conjures up the wrong references, but I do like working thematically and towards an overall vibe, even if it doesn’t fit 100 percent into every angle or parameter that may otherwise restrict it. Some people pointed out that on Desert Opuses that the harmonicas and glockenspiels weren’t that Middle Eastern sounding, but that’s the point. Instead of using a sitar, I’d use something like a glockenspiel to convey that overall mood. In the ‘60s, it’s somewhat forgotten now, but when the first guys started using fuzz guitars, they were supposed to mimic trumpets and violins or stringed instruments. Sometimes the “wrong” sounds can create a totally different effect.
The interesting thing is that I didn’t really know that much about the Bermuda Triangle before doing the research and reading up on it. Like probably everyone, I knew that planes and ships and people would disappear for no reason, but I think that I probably thought that it was pirates or something. But after I read about it, some interesting theories came up, namely that there’s almost this Hawking thing to it. With no trace of those vessels, no wreckage, what happened? It’s like they exploded into dust in some cosmic explosion, or got sucked into a black hole or something. There’s weird electromagnetic activity that’s been proven to mess with compasses and aircraft gauges and things like that, and it’s sort of approaching the unknown into sci-fi or cosmic oblivion. As I don’t like to write about the typical things — Tolkien, Lovecraft, outer space — I thought it was a cool way to allude to those things without being trapped by them. Without lyrics, the listener can let it take them wherever they want, I mean, how many different ways can you suggest cosmic oblivion in an album without turning into Robert Calvert (laughs)?
There’s also lots of volcanic activity and tectonic plates shifting in that area (as in the equivalent over by Japan, the Devil’s Triangle), and that if enough volcanic activity and those tectonic plates shifted enough… I mean, that’s pretty heavy metal right there, that’s the heavy metal spirit coming out in a non-heavy album. That could be one of the 60 million possible ways of the end of the world (laughs).
How did the idea come about for the painted covers? Do you do each one as the record sells, or did you do 500 to start with?
They’re made as they sell, yeah. I like the idea of music being something that extends beyond mere entertainment. I mean, it’s entertainment in the end, but I think that’s probably what’s ruining music these days to a certain extent. Back 10 years ago, having a pro-looking CD was really something special, but now it’s got to the point where everyone can do it, and there’s really nothing exciting about just releasing something on disc. Which is cool, but it’s become more assembly line even on an underground level. This was to bring back some of that individuality to the music, that it’s not just some assembly line thing that’s a shot at mass stardom. If someone shoots me an email and tells me a bit about themselves, what I do is I paint the color to match the personality, or as best as I think I can!
The song titles are listed on your website, but not anywhere on the disc itself. Was there a reason you wanted to keep them hidden, a kind of Easter egg for people willing to look?
Kind of, yeah. They’ll know exactly where each part stops and starts, and each file is labeled. The thing is that I still had to make shorter clips as a promotional device online, because I it’s just more convenient for the listener to get an idea of how some of the album goes, rather than put up a 40-minute stream, which would take forever to buffer online with anything resembling audio quality (320kbps is my usual go-to online audio quality).
If anyone thinks that it’s lazy to just cram all the songs together instead of track labeling them like is normally done on releases, it actually took way more time and effort to crossfade them all together, to get the fades right to match up. Some songs got lumped together, simply because they were in or ended or started in the same key as the song before or after it, so you’d have the songs fading in and out on the same note, and often on the same beat — which took a lot of editing and work to get things to synch up correctly. Sometimes there was a slight atonality when the notes would match up. That was alright, because there’s a certain element of disorientation that works on this release, anyways. Some songs had to be faded out quicker or slower, so that they’d ease into the next song into a certain way. I’d never tried that before as a producer, so I thought that it would be awesome to just run with that on the whole record. I’d never crossfaded anything as extremely as I did on this one.
Is there a narrative thread to the songs that plays out through the different instrumental sections? If so, what is the listener supposed to take from it?
The fictional quote on the back sort of guides it in the sense that it’s supposed to seem like it’s calm and inviting, then there’s stormy weather, then maybe it’s subsided, and BOOM! Thunderstorm at the end. That was recorded right outside my place one night, this really, really violent thunderstorm where the rain would speed up and slow down creating a natural hypnotism. It was this rolling, pulsing thunder. That was edited down from about seven minutes to just a couple on the record.
As music has got more convenient and digestible these days, a lot of it has gotten more anonymous. Just a random track on a random iPod on eternal random shuffle. Most of the tracks on this release were sequenced together in a manner that had a good plot flow, like I’d previously mentioned. It’s also sort of like reading a book in a way. You don’t come in at chapter five or read the ending first, though it’s tempting to just fast forward to the end or the “good parts,” but really, you miss all the smaller parts that make for excellent continuity — otherwise actors are just acting in random parts, saying random things that only pertain to the main events in the story. If people do fast forward through this to a certain part that they like, that’s cool. There’s no rules, really. If they only listen to the first 20 minutes because like the first 20 minutes, that’s cool too. People can sort of determine where certain parts end and what constitutes a smaller song within the bigger song, because a lot of passages are pretty similar to each other on this record, though they differ enough that there’s some sort of evolution within it that it’s not just rehashing the same ideas within itself.
But at least the idea is there that it’s part of a whole. Some programmers have played it in its entirety on the radio, which is really nice. I thought the concept would be interesting in theory, but that no one would take the challenge on radio. Thankfully some of them have!
Which comes first, the concept or the material?
A little bit of both. I usually record a whole bunch of things, most of which never makes it to the records because it just doesn’t fit in a certain way — too happy, too bleak, too aggressive, too non-descript, etc. At this point, there’s been a real need for a side-project for my other stuff, because that stuff is fairly different.
How much of the music on The Bermuda Triangle was born out of studio experimentation?
Lots. I still don’t use an outside producer and likely never will, because although there’s definitely something that they could impart to the music — and often for the better — I like the idea of 100 percent uninterrupted vision, that people are getting all of what that is, even if some of it is perceived as wrong or “difficult” or whatever. If you throw a bunch of paints onto a canvas and that’s all you can do, that’s cool too. Sometimes you just need to throw the chips out there and let ’em fall where they may and then assemble something from that.
I’m in the middle of the punk rock versus the mainstream ethos — there’s a certain artistic expression that gets lost sometimes when you strip the rawness away from artists making their own records when you have producers come in, but as long as you have enough character in there, that’s what matters. But sometimes that character gets lost in the translation. And you know, I want to hear BIG-sounding records, but with maximum artistry, none of that lo-fi shit that passes for music these days. Some lo-fi can work well, but if it’s done a certain way. Other guys that try to do that just end up sounding like they’re recording on a Fisher Price boombox or something like that — there’s a way to get gritty right, and a way to get gritty wrong. It’s assumed that because it’s lo-fi, that it’s good lo-fi.
Most typically “big” records, if you listen to them, strip character away and sanitize things. In the ‘70s, you had these ultra-dry, choked-sounding records where there was no way that a snare drum sounded like that if you were in the band’s rehearsal room, and then in the ‘80s, producers swung the other way by overdoing all the bombast, but in a bad way — making things sound like they actually don’t.
Everything production-wise on this recording is clear and upfront and sparkling. But they’re all real, organic sounds, even when they’re effected. Even though the strings are synths, there’s a believability to them that they’re an old Mellotron or some weird, fucked up orchestra. Most people aren’t probably used to as many string section sounds from an independent album as there is on records like this — really cinematic and at least an attempt at grandeur. I’d got an old ‘70s synth called a Logan String Melody, and it’s basically a really great Mellotron-like faux string machine. I have some old ‘70s phasers, like a Maestro MP-1 — this huge pedal with a great sound. You can hear the old amps humming on the recording like they’re cranked up right next to you, you can hear those old synths buzz like they’re gonna die any given second. I like some discipline, but I like some element that’s out of control, some sort of legitimate chaos that happens when creative minds run wild. There’s really no wrong or right in a traditional sense, I just like the idea that the audience probably gets the sense that I’m pushing in all the chips, creatively, at the card table.
Do you see yourself being able to perform this material live? There are many layers in the music. Is it just a matter of setting up loops, or do you think something would be lost in a live setting?
It would be awesome to perform it live, but this one in particular would take a lot to do. It doesn’t sound that complicated, but it’s borderline prog at times. And some of the parts, I don’t even remember how to play (laughs)! Seriously, I’d have to go and relearn some of it, especially the multi-timbral guitar parts which are almost like orchestras in themselves. If it ever did go out live, it would have to be massive — maybe a big video screen with visuals, and some sort of event.
Do you know what’s next for the band yet? Any ideas for the next album?
The next one is a return to a more rock based sound, I guess, but with the vocals not in the background like they were on the first two records — quite upfront. There’s about a half an album’s worth of tracks done, most still instrumental, but with vocals to be added later. It’s still drone-based a bit, but a bit more straightforward and psychedelic blues, with lots of wah and fuzz again. When I’ve turned up the amps for awhile, eventually I want to turn them down and get more reflective, and once there’s been too much reflection, then it’s time to create music from that’s more physical where things aren’t over-thought too much. For this one there was a ton of coordination that I hadn’t really done before, where most of the ideas were thought out in advance, so it took a lot of pre-planning, even if there was looser guidelines in the individual, smaller parts that were based on a particular mood, key, or idea. Most of the leads on the first two records were improvised, whereas on this one, they were almost always rehearsed. When things get too scripted, I eventually have to burn the script. That keeps it fresh.
High Watt Electrocutions’ website
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Tags: Canada, High Watt Electrocutions, Unsigned bands, Winnipeg
