Why What How & The Jibber Jabber

exploring my improvisational recording style and a preview of a new song.

A few months ago, I found myself in my good friend’s home studio in the English countryside, spinning around on a swivel stool, feeling lost and overwhelmed surrounded by gear that I didn’t even know how to turn on. It was time to make a new record —my fourth LP—but I didn’t know where to start. I cut ties with my longtime producer (a story for another time) and I was afraid nothing would come out of me without his influence and guidance. I was both terrified and exhilarated.

I toured with The Dandy Warhols and The Black Angels last fall, opening for them by myself. I played guitar and a tiny synthesizer and triggered drums and tracks with my feet. Before the tour started, I was losing my shit with anxiety. The only other time I toured as a solo artist was as a teenager when I opened for Nine Inch Nails, when people threw things at my head and screamed at me to get offstage. I wasn’t looking to repeat that experience…But with the high financial cost of touring now, I had no choice but to forgo a band. Fortunately, last year’s shows were a success and I ended the tour feeling wonderfully empowered by my self-reliance. I decided then that my next record needed to make me feel the same way.

photo: James Conrad

Years ago, I made an EP called Bad Lieutenant. I self-produced it in my cousin’s bathroom in New York City. With no microphone, I sang directly into my laptop. Despite the primitive setup, it became my most streamed work. Yet, over time, I began doubting my abilities, influenced by numerous men in the music industry telling me I was nothing without them. Producers, execs, agents, rockstars…Consciously, I shrugged it off and used it as motivation, but subconsciously, it eroded my confidence.

Throughout my career, being associated with famous male musicians has often overshadowed my own achievements. No matter how much I do, people seem to always want to identify me as an extension or result of a man. I remember a glowing review of my first record from a major publication that credited my bass and guitar playing to the men in my touring lineup (who didn’t play on the recordings at all). It wasn’t new for me—men taking or receiving credit for my work—but it was frustrating at best and damaging at worst. These experiences cornered me into a perpetual state of feeling as though I needed to prove myself.

When I record, I strive not to be motivated by proving anything to anyone. I also don’t try to pre-determine what the record is going to mean or what it’s going to sound like. My creative process focuses solely on the art and letting it be what it is. I approach it as though I’m taking a candid photograph: I want to capture an uncontrolled moment and whatever feelings are within that moment. Unlike most bands that write and refine their songs before recording, I don’t pre-write anything. I make everything up as I go along. I find a sound or a riff and I play it over and over again until I can create a vibe that makes me feel something. Then, I give myself a limited number of takes to come up with vocals and lyrics. The first take is usually jibber jabber but it determines the melody and sometimes a few words or phrases will come out that will inspire lyrics for the next take.

Here is an example so you can hear what I mean. This is a clip of the first pass of vocals on one of my new songs, aptly named Historical Hysteria:

While listening to this song, you can hear that there aren’t many lyrics. I’m mostly just going with whatever sounds comes out in the moment so that I can get a melody that’s aligned with the feeling of the song. But, if you listen carefully, I do say a couple words and phrases. For instance, I sing the words “tow the line,” “I see a crime,” “silver lining,” “she’s just like me,” and at one point at the end of the clip I sing the word “international.”

When the song gets released, listen for those words and you’ll hear how the final lyrics and vocals were shaped by them.

For the second vocal take, I remember these words and try to use them to influence more lyrics. Usually, by the third take, I’ll have a sense of what I’m trying to say and be able to improvise the rest of the lyrics for the entire song. And to be honest, if I can’t do so after a few tries, I usually abandon the song altogether and move on. It sounds extreme but this approach keeps me present and prevents overthinking, which I find stifles creativity.

I aim to write/record at least one song a day and then circle back to finish the best ones. Usually, I have a batch of 15 to 20 songs after a couple weeks and I release the best 10 or 11. This process isn’t for everyone. A lot of artists I know want their records to be the best versions of their songs. They attempt to get the songs as close to perfect as possible. This is totally sensible; however, it hasn’t worked for me. I spent years touring and playing shows before I recorded my first LP. I tried multiple times to record but striving for perfection killed my authenticity. Doing 100 vocal takes, multiple versions of guitar tracks, messing around with never ending tones and sounds and editing everything to death resulted in only making me feel disconnected from the material. Finally, I decided to commit to the imperfection and try recording live. I realized I’d rather make records that are the most honest versions of the songs rather than the most perfect.

What I like to capture in the studio is the feeling that sparked the song, the inexplicable force behind the flow-state. My first album, Get A Witness, isn’t an easy listen because it’s so improvised that it’s hard for listeners to know what they can hold onto. It’s also really lo-fi and sonically challenging. But, it’s probably me in my rawest form. I didn’t know what any of the lyrics meant in the moment but in hindsight, it’s some of the most meaningful material I’ve ever written. My second album, Love Me to Death, is more polished but still maintains that visceral emotional core. It’s a bigger, more straight forward, rock-driven record with lots of layers of guitars and live drums, etc. Even so, the closing song on the record, “Sun Of Life,” has unfinished lyrics because the first take of vocals ended up being the most emotionally honest.

By my third and most recently released album, Couples Only, I had the creative process of live, improvised recording dialed. It’s raw but it’s tangible. It expresses every emotion I felt during that period of my life — facing sickness, divorce, grief, self-reckoning, and renewal. The songs came very quickly as did the lyrics. A song called “Stanley RIP” was written and recorded in one take while the producer was taking a smoke break. You can hear birds chirping in the background because the studio doors were open. I struggled to do any additional takes because the song was too emotionally difficult for me to rehash. We left it as is because a more perfect sounding version of it wouldn’t have been as good.

When it comes to equipment and gear, I’m not precious about anything. All of my albums have been recorded at different studios, on borrowed instruments. I usually don’t even use my own guitar. This gives each record a different soundscape while still being played and performed in my style. This new record is no different. I’m recording on friends’ gear, using some instruments I’ve never played before. I remember when PJ Harvey released her record White Chalk, which was all played on piano despite the instrument being new to her. I was greatly inspired by this approach as it provides a chance to breathe new life into the songwriting. This keeps me from making the same record over and over again.

photo: Darian Zahedi

For those who have seen me perform live, you know that my shows are a separate entity. I play songs from the records but I never replicate the studio versions on stage; I let the songs evolve. After touring and playing them repeatedly, I fully understand what they mean to me and can perform them in a way that feels genuine and new every time. I’m able to snap into a flow state onstage, letting the songs come through me, influenced by the moment’s emotions rather than what I felt in the studio whenever the song was initially recorded.

As of now, I have about 6 songs that are ready to be mixed and mastered and another 5 songs in progress. I’m taking a break for the next month to get some other parts of my life in order, but I’ll be sure to keep this space updated with the trials and tribulations of the recording journey. I will also continue to post previews of material for my paid subscribers.

If anyone has any questions or wants me to elaborate on anything, use the comments section and I’ll reply.

c u next tuesday.

XX CARRÉ

ps: if you don’t use Spotify, you can find the above linked music on Apple Music and Bandcamp.