It's hard to know where to begin when trying to explain the problems I've had with recording the new album. Coming to the end of 2006, it's getting close to a year now of toiling in the studio with nothing more than erratic results to show for all of my efforts. I think once the recording is finally finished (if that day ever arrives), I'll be able to look back at it more clearly.

  Recording is emotional, and I think after all these years of doing it I've begun to despise the amount of emotions that I find myself having to pour into it because they simply take up too much mental space. For the most part, my methods and patterns for recording have changed very little since I made the first JE record. There have been variations of equipment I've used at different times, but the way I've gone about starting and completing songs has remained relatively unchanged. Unfortunately, it's just not working anymore.

  As I've gotten older, my ears have become more critical, and this can be a good and a bad thing. Good, because it means that I'm progressing in my musical and recording knowledge and am applying that more critically to my recordings. Bad, because sometimes it takes away that brash intuitiveness I first had when I wasn't so overly critical of every note. More than anything, I miss that intuitiveness, and I've missed it for quite a while. Of course, I know that doing this type of electronic sound will always have its drawbacks in terms of what I'm describing, but there are ways to make things far more immediate than how I've been doing them, and I'm determined to realize what they are or there's simply no point in continuing.

  My chief concern (in this overwhelmingly pretentious journey of mine) has been in rediscovering the joys of songwriting, and this has forced me to look back and try to remember and listen to just what I was thinking when I made some of those early JE songs, where that joy or idealism seemed to be a little more apparent in the writing. It goes without saying that songwriting has always been my priority, but I think I've taken it for granted for years now. I've always admitted that the musical side of what I do has been a struggle for me, and because of that I've devoted the majority of my attention in trying to overcome those struggles, but along the way I've ended up letting it take over completely. In my world, a snare sound should not be agonized over for a month on one song. Maybe in Steely Dan's world, maybe in Bob Clearmountain's world, but it cannot logically work in mine, and ironically enough, it was never my intention to begin with. My original intention was to simply write beautiful and memorable tunes and...oh yeah....put some sort of electronic backing to it because I happen to like some of those old synthesizer tones. Like most people, I have a habit of turning something simple into something complex, and I honestly despise that tendency.

  It's hard to explain why certain songs or albums become engrained in your consciousness or become closer to your heart more so than others. When I think about The Ministry of Archers, I don't feel a huge emotional connection to any of those songs. Even though I like some of the work on there as well as anything I've done in the past....Quite Quieter than Spiders and Most Terrible Archer are examples.....there's nothing in the nature of those songs that endears them to my heart on any level that other songs in the past seem to have. In some ways, they feel like songs that I didn't even write, and when I play them that feeling becomes even more apparent. It's hard to say why this is, and I'd rather not get into all of the psychological intricacies of what it might be, because it only matters that I decide to change whatever creates that disconnect.

  My point in all of this is to say that the songs I've written for The Otherly Opus somehow created a HUGE emotional connection that I haven't felt in years, which is a glorious realization and revelation. Now I knew before I began recording that I had an extra special set of songs to work with this time around, but I didn't realize until recently just how attached I had become to them. There's a certain euphoria that comes when you know you've written something that will stand that test of time, be it a melody or catchphrase that has all of the traits of something classic and memorable. It's like a runners high, a hole in one, a three point shot in the last second of the game...... where every movement just inspires another one, only with more creativity and intensity than the last one.. It's sounds indescribable, except that I know everyone has something in their life that brings them to this level of rapturous happiness (maybe it's what they call "joy").

  Because of this close relationship I realized I had acquired for these songs, it think it gradually created a sort of paranoia about doing anything to them that would take away their potentiality. I've always been honest about the fact that I think I've done more to ruin and muck up some of my finest examples of pop songwriting than anyone in recorded history. When it comes down to it, most of my tracks would do well to have nothing but the most basic pop music backing imaginable to emphasize the two things that everyone takes away when listening to a pop song: words and melody. Why not do it, then? Because it happens to bore the literal life out of me. I love clever and catchy production and I love things being a little out of odds with the status quo. Sure, a drum machine, bass line, strings and a lead could get the job done quickly, easily and complimentary every time, but I simply cannot stomach the thought of doing anything as mindlessly boring as that. The problem that comes into all of this, is just what do you do on a musical level that on one hand sounds interesting while on the other hand completely reinforces the actual song? It's probably the age old question that producers have grappled with for years and one that I'm trying to figure out for myself as I write this. What became apparent early on, however, was that I knew that what I was doing musically was simply NOT complimenting these songs I have grown so close to.....at all.

  So what now? I've gone back to the songs. Fully and completely. I gave myself over to the melody and the words. I went back to my original notes for this album, which told me to do the very thing I'm trying to do. More than anything, it's a life change. I spend a significant part of my life writing and recording songs, but the manner in which I've gone about it for the last 12 years had to change, because I'm in a different place than I was back when I started. But change is difficult, isn't it? The results can be slow in coming when you're trying to grow and develop in areas that are either new or have been a bit too neglected. Like most ventures in life, all of this is a continual learning experience, but I'm thankful to be able to continue to learn than to be too fed up to carry on any longer.

  Making music is not easy, and I don't know if it should be on certain levels. If it was so easy than anybody could make music and chew gum, but that's just not the case. At the same time, I think I put too much emphasis on things that has made the whole process much too miserable of an experience, when in fact should be nothing short of exciting and enjoyable. It's a little funny to write about, but after pushing the release date back for the third time, I thought an explanation was in order. March 20th isn't that far away, but I hope it signifies a little more in my life than just the release of the next album, and maybe you'll have a bit more insight into what some of those things are now. 

Not Busy,

ronnie.