Recording The Album in LA: The Sunset Sound Factory Sessions July 2001 - Dec 2001

Originally the sessions for the Vines debut album were scheduled to be held in Sydney in May 2001, with the principal recording to be done at Q studios, over a period of around two weeks. Another two weeks had been allotted for mixing, and the comfort of a home-based recording seemed like the perfect way to ease the band into their widened recording career. However, at producer Rob Schnapf's request the sessions were moved to Los Angeles, and time given for recording and mixing was extended to a more comfortable eight weeks. Among a host of reasons, Schnapf saw his access to his own collection of classic instruments and vintage recording equipment as an important factor, especially in attempting to achieve a classic sound. So to accomodate the Producer and persue what looked to be a good match on paper, The Vines boarded a plane on July 7th, 2001 for their most sought after endeavour yet: The classic album.

For those who do not know, the Sunset Sound Studio complex has an awesome history attached to it. Bands as varied as Led Zeppelin, the Beach Boys, Prince, Beck, and perennial Vines faves You Am I, have all recorded there. The studio is divided into two complexes, the Sound Factory and Sunset Sound, with three main studios being available. It is also, notoriously well equipped and decidedly pricey. At one point during the sessions, classic 80s pop-absurdists Devo performed adjacent to the studio, cementing yet another folk tale for the diary. It was even mooted that Elliott Smith, whom Schnapf had worked with on Smith’s previous two exceptional LPs, would guest on the record as well. A collaboration that sadly never eventuated. Ready access to talent-on-tap is one of LA’s great strengths, but quality control can often be dubious.

Living and working in LA was clearly going to be a double-edged sword.

Being in the heart of La La Land, living and working right near Sunset Boulevard, also provides direct access to sleaze, glitz, glamour and a sense of importance. The LA Way won't get any more in your face than there. The band were staying in relatively well-appointed bungalows a short walk from the studio, and they had access to a car, and were encouraged to use it to avoid any entanglements with dangerous locals. Aside from a side trip to Las Vegas, and shopping expeditions, life was pretty much centred around recording. As for the colourful street-life of LA itself, Schnapf once regaled the band with a tale of being mugged outside the studio. Aside from the proximity to violent crime, the move also saw to it that there was greater access to the band from industry people, and greater chance of exposure, and naturally less contact with their own friends and families. Whether this was a wise decision is now a contentious issue a year on.

The sessions themselves actually began very rockily. The solitary week of preparation and liaison with Schnapf proved to be difficult, and more than likely, a rushed affair. Individuals, for reasons best known to themselves, had been walking out of rehearsals in protest, and the siege mentality that Schnapf later reported as taking over the recording, had already taken root. Furthermore, Schnapf was determined to record the band's two core songs "In The Jungle" and "Winning Days" his way or not at all. The band had prized them from very early on, and even suggested that they might be the first and second singles on any debut album. A stand-off occurred between the band and Schnapf, and from the first rehearsals there was even talk of using a session drummer. This destabilised the band and the confidence of people within. Not the least of which was David. Eventually "In The Jungle" was recorded without Schnapf at the helm (much to his annoyance) - and "Winning Days" not at all - and it was decided as a compromise to proceed with some of the more straight ahead tracks and slower songs. Time had now been lost and it was only very early on in the recording. Unfortunately relationships between all major parties concerned had not been firmly established, and things were looking fragile.

At this point the band had also attempted a relatively new track "Landslide", that had been played at some of the handful pre-You Am I support shows, and a track recorded back in 1999, the Pavementesque "Drown The Baptists". The start was missed on an apparently perfect take for the former, and it was consigned to the outtakes pile instantly. "Drown The Baptists", soon to be given an airing on the Rex Records 7” was then also overlooked, seemingly due to the taste of certain individuals. It was soon realised that one person’s meat is another’s murder, and that the bulk of the power was perhaps not with the band themselves. Almost instantly, commercial imperatives were influencing the content and eventually the sound of the album. It seemed that things were more out their control than ever before, and at the most crucial point in the group's existence. Divisions were clearly not confined to band and producer, but internal conflicts, which had always hovered like a fog, burst through. These beginnings were to become characteristic of the mood of the recording. Also it had become apparent that people were hanging their hopes on one song in particular - "Get Free".

"Highly Evolved" was one of the first tracks given a shake with spectacular results. It’s bristling, spiky energy and brevity, gave it sufficient weight to be considered as a single, even in spite of the potentially gimmicky minute-and-a-half sting. It proved to be a sublimely abrasive smash and grab, and eventually their first UK chart entry. Both this and "Outtatheway" were recorded without click tracks, and shows the band’s natural chemistry and intuitions. It was also one of the next in the series that showed their knack for thrilling sledge-hammer rock, followed by the gorgeous "Autumn Shade", that feels like it blissfully goes on forever, but is under three minutes long. With this initial group of songs, and the engaging results, it could be seen that, relatively speaking, things were settling down, moving along and work was getting done. However, it was soon realised that the time set aside for recording was going to be overstepped. The only thing people couldn't guess was by how much, and this time, money was a big factor. This time, pressure was coming from other areas as well, but the results were also quite proving to be impressive.

One of the interesting elements of the recording was Schnapf’s insistence on providing a psychedelic atmosphere within the studio. He had fairy lights and spotlights hung around the live room and had an oil wheel projecting its liquid, coloured swirls onto the rear wall of the live room. Such ambience creation has been employed in the past, most notably on Talk Talk’s monumental Spirit of Eden LP. During the sessions the band had oil wheels, various lights, and sometimes even total darkness to evoke a psychedelic atmosphere and make the mood accessible and tangible. Eventually it hit the tape and the results were uniformly fabulous. Similarly, this is what one can assume Schnapf had in mind for the Vines. Interestingly both albums will be known for their protracted recording and hefty budgets. In the case of the Vines, no A&R representative has been known to weep upon first listen to the fruits of such an adventure into sound.

As the recording progressed, all the reports that filtered back voiced unanimous relief and excitement at the results of the album so far. Momentum had been established, drum takes were apparently being knocked out quickly and impressively, guitar sounds were being thoughtfully found and arrangements polished and bass ideas were being revised and enhanced. It is also important to note that although the band was playing live in the studio, only one part was recorded at a time, so the notion of the recordings being completely live and spontaneous is not actually accurate. There was also the issue of having access to technology such as Pro Tools, and the pros and cons of click tracks to negotiate. This approach was fairly at odds with some of the band's previous recording experience, and may have milked them of a certain vitality, and their big time naivete may have also made them sheepish about being more dogmatic about their own vision.

Those concerns aside a track like "Sunshinin'", clearly benefited from Schnapf's input. It's buoyant bass line and chiming guitars make it a classic Summer single, if people were so inclined to issue it at a seasonally appropriate time. The main track on the album that differs noticeably from the demo version, “Sunshinin’” takes the driving, grinding rock of the original and polishes it up with a funkier and poppier strut. The bass is buoyed with a bouncy, funk groove, and the performances were clearly outstanding. Craig’s guitar work and layering of guitar tracks basically renders the tune nearly impossible to replicate effectively in a live context. Generally, the songs were also proving to stand up to studio polish, although a certain energy could have been seen to be removed in the process. "Factory" was also given a going over, and although a slightly different feel from the album version, at it's heart, it had captured the feel of the demo that was being favoured by the UK press. That said, certain insiders mooted that it may have to bee re-done due to issues with the level of bass. It turned out that this was not quite the problem that was at hand.

"Outtatheway", as previously stated, was also another triumph. I once asked David whether the change into the build up was actually an edit, he replied in the negative, and remarked that it was simply a virtually flawless early take. Things were looking as if the initial difficulties were going to be surmounted. The interest in the band was swelling significantly. A&R reps were liasing with the band's representatives (a rough estimate of about ten labels, some more serious than others, were reportedly vying for their signatures), people were believing and perpetuating the hype and the band were trying to get on top of the recording. Things were however slow. Not unreasonably (from an artistic perspective) there was considerable overdubbing of guitars and vocals (at one point a seemingly excessive acoustic guitar tracks were used on one song), and David particularly was spending most of his time just hanging around, having completed ten parts for ten songs. Not including the four that were abandoned. There was even a trip to UCLA to see a Salvador Dali exhibition organised so as to meet and press the flesh with an interested A&R scout. One may argue that this is potentially a good way to spoil the appreciation of the genius of his work.

To get the band out of the claustrophobia of the studio, it was suggested they do some showcase shows in LA, New York and the UK. In the UK interest in the demos and the Factory 7" in particular was spreading like wild fire. The NME seizing upon them as a group worthy of intense attention. The band were excited with these developments, and it would provide necessary relief from the cabin fever of life in the studio and back at the hotel, and it appeared to be a welcome sign of recognition. The shows in New York and London never actually happened, and crucially, the LA show at the Viper Room went ahead. The group hadn't played live for months, and rehearsals for the recordings and the show had been sporadic and troubled. With 150 industry people being invited to the intimate venue, pressure was to be intense. Irish band the Future Kings of Spain were also on the bill, and a band that was best described as some sort of LA funk-rock kind of experience, also stepping up for a set in front of the industry movers and shakers. But there was only really one band they were there to see.

Ultimately the show, depending on who you talk to, was either a solid performance, a shaky one or the usual Vines nail-biting frenzy and lack of polish - but no doubt wonderful and exciting. As David admitted later on, he was alerted to A&R ill will towards his position in the band, and given that unbeknownst to him there had been clandestine moves made to remove him from the band for unjustifiable reasons, it proved to be a dent to his confidence. Regardless, fellow Engine Room signatory, singer-songwriter Carla Werner was wont to reassure David that he had nothing to fear, and that his drumming was great. Regardless, it was the show that would see the industry begin to fully take the band and carve its mark into its heart. Tim Rogers once confided, from personal experience, that in LA, interested parties, at the expense of the other members, protect the singer of any touted band. People were suggesting the rhythm section wasn't good, that changes had to be made whispers and evaluations were presented to the kingmakers. Someone obviously listened, and it began in earnest, the knives were out. The A&R people had cast a pall on the band's ability to do a major label's bidding, people were desperate to sign and be signed. Something had to give and it did. That, it would appear, is showbiz, LA style.

2.

Amidst all this wheeling and dealing and attention on the Vines, a record was being made, and being given a sometimes painful and slow birth. During the first three months in the studio, versions of "Sunshinin'", "Factory", "Homesick", "Mary Jane", "Get Free", "1969", "Autumn Shade", "Outtatheway", "Highly Evolved" and "Country Yard" were recorded and at various stages of completion or near completion. The recording of "Country Yard" was an unexpected diversion in the recording as it was a track the band was not prepared to record for this particular album. In fact since it hadn’t really been played since it was recorded to 4-track some years previous. It’s a little known fact that what has become Highly Evolved was once innocently sketched by the band to be a fourteen track response to the Beatles Revolver - track for track - called On Safari. Craig and David had even worked out running orders in one of their many State of the Nation pow-wows. This idea somehow mutated into the form that we now have. Not quite the product of idealistic ambition that it once was.

In terms of the make up of the record, certainly pre-LA setlists from shows indicate that "Country Yard” was never a starter for the debut Vines album at all. There was previously no discernible or strong interest from the band in bringing the track to a wider audience. It had already surfaced on the free Demos release that was circulated that year, but Schnapf appeared to favour the song greatly and encouraged the band to record it. Consequently it was given a great deal of attention, and the results were if nothing else, surprising. Maybe it was a case of cutting and polishing a raw diamond, that had previously failed to yield any real lustre, or perhaps this was the producer's attempt to showcase his skills by rescuing the tune from obscurity and going to town on it. Undeniably it gets the treatment, but the song never appeared to be one of Craig's strongest, and was perhaps fortunate to be realised through this process.

The arguably pedestrian first half of the song takes on a massive shift in the second half, where it becomes a soaring lift out of the "sick and useless" life of the protagonist. The self-deprecating and self-pitying lines like "Glueing my eyes together could be the right escape", requesting blindness from whatever horror or distractions that they see, tend to be erased by Craig's soaring vocals, and a slight shift in intensity from the simpler intro into the change and beyond. Craig spent a lot of time at home, often only venturing out to hang with band and friends. Such a solipsistic environment, fuelled largely by Cable TV, music and art, are at the heart of these tunes. Craig’s life is sometimes best articulated in song, where words may fail or seem pointless elsewhere. Here is one such example. From his bedroom he was conceiving a worldview refracted through popular culture, that he often criticised and lionised in equal measure. In the end, "Country Yard" was never in the original blueprint, and seemed to indicate further the band's lack of control of song choice.

Tastes and opinions of individuals were clearly in conflict if "Country Yard" is given preference to tunes like "In The Jungle", "Winning Days" and "Landslide", and even “Drown The Baptists”. Perhaps with the latter Schnapf was concerned of the response a tune with such a title may receive in the Bible belt of the USA, but Wal-Mart have refused to stock albums for less. If you consider pre-LA songs that featured on setlists on their tour supporting You Am I, a track such as “Fuck The World” or “TV Whore” had significantly more potential impact. Even despite the obviously offensive title, “Fuck The World” showed how their sophistication within the limits of rock music had developed, particularly with a certain psychedelic bent. A certain studio refinement could even place it amongst the band’s more exciting and powerful tunes. At the time they were conceived though, the content of the On Safari concept was considered a foregone conclusion, and the group were already starting to look beyond an as yet unrecorded debut. These two songs being considered for the second album. Even if there was no question of recording very recent songs in LA, there was always the chance of re-recording other songs that had been recorded at A#. As it turns out, that option never came into the equation. In fact that was opposition to the Q treatment of “Winning Days”, and a general attitude that those recordings were something to be ignored once complete.

One of the album’s many moments is "Homesick", which triumphs beautifully and is a strong indication of Craig's ability to write beautiful ballads as well as crunching rock bastards. There is clearly a yin and yang in the Vines that a number of groups might miss in preferring the safety net of generic homogeneity. It is a conscious balance between sensitivity and aggression that is almost equally represented. “Homesick” changed little, if at all, from the A# version the band had recorded two years previous, with Craig's Lennonesque piano phrasing and aching vocals capturing their real distance from home. I recall talking to the band on the phone while at the studio working on the track, and the mere mention of the title used to really put things into perspective. While Craig had never really been on an adventure away from home like this before, he had somehow captured the spirit of longing without needing to. Regardless of whether the song was touched by this reality or not, if there was any time for the group to totally nail the sentiment of this song, it had to have been in Los Angeles. The band’s arrangement allowed for great space and depth, and arguably echoes their interest in Pavement, more obviously their pastoral strum-alongs. As well as the other obvious touchstones like the Beatles, the entire band had been fervent Pavement fans for years, and Craig particularly held Stephen Malkmus in high esteem. Many of the Vines ballads follow similar proclivities to Pavement, particularly “Drown The Baptists” and “Winning Days”, not to mention Craig’s esoteric lyricism.

The album's epic closing track, a co-write between David and Craig called "1969", goes deep into the heart of one of the group's major inspirations: The Verve. The track was eventually conceived as a kind of response to the Wigan quintet's own "Come On", the monumental closer to Urban Hymns, and began as an acoustic song called "20th Century Blues". David had written the entire lyric and first half of the song in an attempt to comment on the plight of an American conscript to Vietnam in 1969. An individual forced to deal with the insanity of the field of war against his will, and consequently forced to cope. David's lyric is ambiguously personal, but framed within this context is a striking portrayal of war, mortality and hopelessness. Informed largely by the film Apocalypse Now and scenes of drug taking in combat, the lyric feeds into the group's own psychedelic instincts, as well as the obvious references to the Stooges "1969". During their regular song-writing binges together, Craig fused his outro to David's song, linking them together with the crescendo and freakout, electrifying the acoustic beginnings in the process, and held together by Patrick's thudding notes. There is an original 4-track version of the song performed by David and Craig that is basically the same song that appears on the debut. The LA version is big: Big sound, big rock, big power, but again the lack of spontaneity and live playing may diminish slightly from it's final version. Completing Craig's vocals apparently became an ordeal, and the song's production was drawn out. The results, however, are quite potent and satisfying.

"Mary Jane", another of the band's epic sonic adventures, differs from the A Storm In Heaven feel of the Q sessions version, but is still a grand, bobbing and rolling mellow-rock gem. Rather than tom fills there are rimshots on the snare, giving a more angular feel to the song, as opposed to the other spacier version, but Craig's vocals again soar, bolstered by the rising and sliding guitar shapes. Many will probably speculate about the reference to "Mary Jane" as being a tip of the hat to marijuana, and certainly it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that. However, while Craig is capable of the straightforward and direct, his ability to poetically shape ideas is unquestionable. That said, it may well be about spliff, absolutely. The keyboard and bass parts arrived at by Patrick deserve special attention simply because of how they enhance the song tremendously. The initial piano phrase provides a nice bridge between the vocal melody and the basic melody of the song. Combine this with his bass part also veering off into a slightly different direction, counterbalancing the main solo guitar phrase (probably employing a tremolo or chorus pedal, more likely a combination of both), you have a little psychedelic symphony. Patrick's keyboard phrase takes on a different hue in the outro section with a rising arpeggio now contrasting and complementing the acoustic guitar arpeggio. Overlaying this is more tremolo guitar, and finally sealed with wind chimes. The intricacies are delicious and beautiful.

At the centre of the general corporate interest of the band, is "Get Free" which was to many, the obvious hook that demanded people's attention, and consequently dragged them in. It was seen to have the same potential as "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and has thus been treated with a rather high degree of reverence. It is a source of a lot of agony, desire and infamy in Vineland, and while many of the reasons for this can't be dealt with, it is safe to say that had it not existed at all, things would be a lot different. The chief reason for the elevated position of the "Get Free" is simply its catchy simplicity and bulldozer aesthetic. Why anyone can't conceive of millions of teenagers connecting with "I wanna get free/I wanna get free/I wanna get free/Ride into the sun", buoyed by that brilliant riff, is beyond me. The Q session version of this song had everything: Space, drive, power, unbridled energy, but the version played on by the three founding members of the band, that was recorded in LA, may never see the light of day. The person who drummed on it nailed it on either first or second take, considering it his crowing moment on the record. Next to some of the album's other songs, this was some statement. By Schnapf’s own admission his decision to re-record it was purely down to his own taste and that view prevailed and was given precedence, nothing more. Tellingly Capitol had also had their input by now, Andy Slater having desired to sign the band on the strength of hearing the original Schnapf production of the song.

So why does REM, Elliott Smith and Beck drummer Joey Waronker play on it?

This is a question that many people know the answer to, but are clearly not keen on revealing, or in denial about. To go into the details now would probably risk a lot of things for a lot of people, so I choose to say only this. People made various decisions to effect who played on this version of "Get Free", it was not down to one person, no one was fired or quit. David’s departure from LA around this time was retrospectively made to look like he had left the band. The truth of the matter lies in a little corporation known to Australians as One-Tel, a gone-the-way-of-the-Dodo telecommunications company headed up by a character called Jodee Rich. When the company collapsed amid the huffing and puffing of corporate greed, underhanded deals and embezzlement, one of the major losers in the Enron-like affair was the Packer family. The Packers are one of Australia’s richest business dynasties, and the financial backer of Engine Room Recordings. They withdrew funding for the label, and hence the Vines, as a knee-jerk reaction to their not inconsiderable loss, and left the band high and dry in LA. One of Engine Room’s principal players eventually came to the rescue, personally backing the completion of the record, but in the intervening 8 weeks, following instruction that they should all go home and sit it out, David went, Craig stayed, and Patrick was asked to stick around with Craig. While Patrick was contemplating finishing off his Medical Degree, David, battle-weary and worn down by the process, packed his bags, got a lift to LAX, received a taciturn goodbye from his bass playing friend, and went home.

While all this had been going on, the terrorist attacks on New York occurred, America did not seem like the most sensible place to be. In fact Rob Schnapf had insisted they all continue recording in spite of the tragedy, recalling his times spent watching the Gulf War on CNN in the studio. He then procured map of Afghanistan, fixed it onto the wall and declared that the Middle East should be made into an ashtray. Tension, and sadness cleared gripped all concerned. How much more madness was to be endured? David had completed ten drum parts for the album by the time he left, and had begun working with session drummers including Joey Waronker, on various tracks that were deemed by some, to need work. He had walked through intense scrutiny, pressure, conflict and to some extent the fulfilment of his life's passion. Forget about what snide NME journo’s will tell you though, the process of removing David from the recording was not simple or straightforward. After a meeting - that he was absent from - was held, he was told of the decision. How no one could predict the reaction that such a betrayal eventually provoked is clearly beyond the rational individual. He simply ended up boarding a plane, and flew home to chill out and rest, and think about whether he wanted to be a Vine. It turned out he did.

3.

With David’s departure, the band were now faced with the prospect of finishing the already overdue album much later than anticipated. Not too mention the problem of navigating a chemistry-shift in the dynamic of the band. This presented itself as a catalyst for further tension, but may have also benefited the pursuit of certain ideas being imposed on the album’s final presentation. Before David left Joey Waronker had been brought in to re-record “Get Free” and “Factory”. Waronker had worked with Schnapf previously on Elliott Smith and Beck’s work, so any possibility of difference of opinion was immediately eliminated. Session drummers are generally instructed or directed to play, and then they usually comply and perform. Speed (as in the ability to rapidly nail takes) and accuracy (in doing what is asked) are usually what the session fee rewards.

Crowded House, the Beach Boys and even the Beatles (curiously all Capitol acts) have all used session drummers on their recordings at one time or another. On a couple of tracks on Crowded House’s stellar debut, a complete dial-a-genius rhythm section was employed on the recording of “Now We’re Getting Somewhere”: Jim Keltner and Jerry Scheff. Collectively they had worked with the Beach Boys, Elvis Presley, Elvis Costello and John Lennon. It is also not unheard of (more so in the 80s) that a band’s drummer may be replaced by a programmed drum machine. As superb a drummer as Lindy Morrison of the Go-betweens really was, it seemed no obstacle to eliminate her playing entirely from the band’s 16 Lover’s Lane LP in favour of a drum machine. Midnight Oil’s Rob Hirst, a consummate player, technically and feel-wise, admitted to almost having a nervous breakdown over producer Nick Launay’s insistence the band use drum machine’s on 10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1. Far from being an aberration, this practice of displacing drummers from their group is commonplace in the music industry, often justified by the crucial role of the rhythm track in recording. Since all music made for sale is commercial, economic reality dictates the necessity for populist instincts at some level.

As it turns out, Waronker’s take on the songs tends to drift away somewhat from David’s more free and open style, opting instead for a slick rigidity that’s not entirely without merit. The second version of “Factory” is slightly faster compared to the more “Ob La Di, Ob La Da” meets “Come As You Are” hybrid of the first version. The feel of the different versions is markedly different also, even though they don’t essentially appear to be miles apart. It could be argued that it’s like a stylistic difference between ska and reggae. They are cousins, not brothers, but the same family nonetheless. The song itself may have been inspired by Patrick’s labouring in a factory while studying, often taking in late shifts, and working the band and academia around it. The banal practicality of such endeavours, and the affinity with the unspectacular, are celebrated with a kind of earthiness and charm that working-class travails can evoke. The second version is more up beat and jaunty, while the first is more languid and irreverent. Staccato piano was added to the second version, and the prominent and hooky bass line pushed slightly more to the fore. There was originally a suggestion that the first recording of the song should be sped up using the tape machine, a re-recording with a different drummer was considered a better option. The luxury of having such options is generally only available to those artists with the financial comfort zone to indulge themselves. For a first album the Vines seemed to be accorded the sort of status that bands further down the line of success might have earned.

This special treatment seems to be indicative of the burgeoning interest of the outside world and industry, and the strength and depth of the song writing and playing. It was almost as if success was considered a fait accompli, but the reality of life in entertainment is that it rarely is. Or it is fleeting. Great artists have failed to set the world alight and race up the charts before, and it’s almost as if people could see the same career trajectory that Nirvana experienced, about to happen for the lads from Sydney. At the time Nirvana conquered the world and blew the industry apart, people had no real idea that they would be that huge. Projected sales for Nevermind by Geffen were in the hundreds of thousands, not in the millions. There appears to be a strong belief, held by many, that with the Vines, lightning will strike twice. Therefore fitting them into some sort of preconceived formula for success seemed normal. Having session drummers knock off the edges of songs (often the edges that make them unique or exciting in the first place) makes sense to people with a commercial interest. No one denies the fact that almost all those involved with the band maintain a genuine love of the music, undoubtedly people who work for and around the group seem to love the Vines. Whether that love becomes misguided or motivated by other interests then becomes an issue, especially if it appears to go against the core ideals of the band and follows other agendas.

For example, the re-recording of “Homesick” is almost completely identical to the original version; a fact that may baffle anyone who hears the two different recordings. The question that must be asked then is this: What on Earth possessed those involved to spend time and money doing an almost perfect forgery of the original? Was it taste, a heightened perception of nuance, or was it a technical issue with mixing that was avoided by re-recording the track? Clearly the idea of re-recording a song almost exactly the same way as the one that was scrapped sounds absurd. As ever, there may well be a rational explanation for this that the world has yet to hear. As a humorous aside, Pete Thomas (drummer for Elvis Costello and the Attractions), who was called in to play on the re-recording of “Homesick”, did it partly because his teenage daughters loved the band. They urged him to play on it also because of the fact that they thought Craig was incredibly cute, and probably wanted to meet him. Whether this starry-eyed rendezvous actually occurred is currently a mystery, but the results would have been wonderful to witness. No doubt Thomas dug the band as well, and we could speculate that this is the reason he simply played it as it was originally performed and recorded - only a little harder and louder - as was his brief.

“In The Jungle”, which was one of the songs that had previously caused disagreement in the studio between band and producer, was eventually taken elsewhere and put down with an Australian resident in Los Angeles, Justin Stanley. Stanley was once a guitarist and keyboard player in the Australian group Noiseworks, who achieved some acclaim during the 80s stadium rock boom. Stanley also formed a production team and group with former Noiseworks bassist Steve Balbi. Dubbed the Electric Hippies they managed to gain a little exposure and score a hit with a track called “Greedy People”. It would seem that Stanley was the right man for the job. Able to understand his fellow countrymen and determined to keep it real (the studio where the guitars were recorded was located in his garage!), they cheaply and quickly got the tune down. At this point David was still with the band in LA, but time was a factor, so they drafted in session drummer Victor Indrizzo to play on the track. An older player, Indrizzo bonded quickly with David, and he discussed with him exactly what was required. David knocked out a couple of quality takes, but Indrizzo eventually stepped in to knock out a quick and nasty take that pleased everyone. The song itself is one of the group’s earliest tunes, and according to David perfectly realised on this version. Quite simply, in the same structure and form as the first A# session, it is awesome. The band had finally had their way, and were ultimately vindicated. Schnapf was later indignant that this version had been done without his approval or knowledge, but given his initial disinterest or opposition to it being recorded at all in their preferred manner, it seemed the only way around the stalemate.

An interesting digression is the emergence of a track from the sessions called “Jose Can You See”. Recorded post-September 11, it is a faltering, flippant yet sombre attempt at the American National Anthem that normally begins, “Oh say can you see”. “Jose” being a pun on “Oh say”. The voice is either Doug Boehm the engineer, Joey Waronker or possibly even Nate the runner in the studio, and resident Dr. Feelgood. Someone is heard to mutter something that sounds like “Joey you rock!” at the end. Unless someone wants to step forward and claim their rightful role on this bizarre piece of Vines history. It may be that “Jose” becomes that unlisted bonus track that echoes the famous “Endless Nameless” on Nevermind, or it may never even turn up at all. The piano accompaniment on the track (player unknown) attempts to play out the basic tune in notes, rather than chords (possibly with one hand or using single fingers), eventually losing ability or interest to finish the song, and finally breaking down. At this stage it is the only Vines track with a discernible and strong American accent on it, and is deeply symbolic not only of the political and social climate of the time, but the world within Vineland. It is painfully bittersweet, and listening to this not long after it was recorded gave one the overwhelming sense that the primary influence on the Vines at the time was overwhelmingly American. A lot can be said in 0.55 seconds.

Also around this time Craig committed to tape an acoustic version of Outkast’s “Ms. Jackson”. Now a legendary part of their live set, “Ms. Jackson” has since been recorded by the touring band, which one day may surface as a bonus track on a single. Craig’s love of hip-hop is long-standing and in some ways just as passionate as his love of rock music. He may not have as expansive a selection of hip-hop records, but he is a fan of the genre. Furthermore, over the years Craig and Patrick were both active in going to dance parties, exploring electronic music and the party scene. This activity might occur alongside a trip to see Supergrass, a Vines rehearsal or show, literary interests or an evening spent watching the comedy channel on cable. The Vines ears and eyes are, generally speaking, wide open. One of the more well known non-album tracks to emerge from these sessions is their contribution to the I Am Sam soundtrack, the cover of the Beatles “I’m Only Sleeping”. When David heard about the recording, he had been home in Sydney for a while, and the song had already been completed with Waronker playing drums.

Rob Schnapf contributed the acoustic guitar parts, while Craig plays the electric guitar for the solo parts, and naturally sings. As is Craig’s practice he normally sings his own back up vocals, while Patrick will occasionally provide backing as well. Here Craig does the lion’s share of the singing, sounding perfectly laconic and dreamy. The song itself is a wonderfully faithful rendition of a classic, although not featured in the film, as is the case with many film soundtracks these days. So how did they come to be involved? The president from an interested record company invited the to record the track, perhaps as a way to woo the band, and the band simply entertained the offer. Nevertheless, the band ended up with Capitol. The track was issued on the soundtrack and it ostensibly became the Vines first top 20 entry in America. A favourite part of the song, personally speaking, is found at 1.51 - a panned yawn. Anyone who knows Craig’s capacity for late nights and afternoon rising may find this a little amusing.

The recording of “Ain’t No Room” was basically an afterthought following the reaction to the song when the Factory 7” came out in the UK. Even though the song was more of a contender for the album than “Country Yard”, it certainly wasn’t in the minds of all and sundry when they landed in LA all those months before. Like “Country Yard” it was given the full treatment: Big shiny choruses, ragged punk swagger in the vocals, and an urgent drive from the rhythm section. Unlike “Country Yard”, “Ain’t No Room” does not seem to share the same excessive and polished treatment, managing to sound a little more ragged and vital. As it no doubt should. The actual mastered version for the album is different, with a chorus, probably cut and pasted, and added for a repeat into a section of the song before going into the extended outro. There is also a fade out of the outro rather than letting Craig strangle the song into submission. It would seem that the rearrangement of the song on the final version weakens rather than strengths it, trying to force it into some sort of palatable verse chorus structure without the long vocal-free ending. That said, so much second-guessing had gone into the album that even substantial 11th hour changes were not deemed ridiculous. It appears some people are prepared to draw a funny moustache, pointy beard and glasses on the Mona Lisa.

Once all of this protracted recording and drama had begun to wind down, talk turned to mixing. Craig had refused to go home until the album was finished, and there was talk of Andy Wallace being drafted in to remix the tracks. The Nirvana shadow still continuing to haunt them. His input to the final mixing of the album is uncertain, but he does not appear on the credits to the “Highly Evolved” single. Most of Schnapf’s final mixes were finished by the end of December, but little alterations were made at the mixing and mastering stages. In December Patrick returned home to attend a friend’s wedding, the same person responsible for putting on their first show back in 1996, with Craig arriving a couple of weeks later. For the first time in months the Vines were back together in the same locale again, but the drama was not over.