Jerry Cantrell Offers More Details on Alice in Chains' New Album

When it was recently revealed that Alice in Chains had put the finishing touches on their sixth full-length album, the news was greeted with a certain amount of surprise—especially in light of the fact that nobody even knew they were working on new music at all. But as guitarist and co-vocalist Jerry Cantrell explains to Guitar World, “It’s not that we were keeping it a secret—we just didn’t want to say a whole lot about it until we had something to say. And we certainly have something to say with this one. It’s a fucking strong record.”

Cantrell is speaking to Guitar World from L.A., where the as-yet-untitled record is being mixed by Joe Barresi (Tool, Queens of the Stone Age). He’s relieved to be through the recording process but admits with a laugh that “I’m still in the last few weeks of anxiety about screwing up this record. The nitpicky and manic part of me keeps saying, ‘We’re not done yet!’ But we’re almost there. The finish line’s in sight.”

The road to get to this point has been a long and winding one. The band—which also includes co-vocalist and guitarist William DuVall, bassist Mike Inez and drummer Sean Kinney—first convened last year at Studio X in Seattle to lay down basic tracks with producer Nick Raskulinecz. According to Cantrell, it was the first time Alice in Chains had recorded in Seattle in more than 20 years, since tracking their 1995 self-titled album at the same facility back when it was known as Bad Animals. “It was cool to be back, because the studio is a part of our history,” Cantrell says, then laughs. “And Seattle’s always great—in the summer, anyways.”

From Seattle, the band moved to Nashville to record vocals and lead guitars at Raskulinecz’s home studio—though Cantrell says he had to take an unexpected break from work after “getting sick on a trip to Cabo for Sammy Hagar’s birthday. Then the doctor gave me something that made me sicker. So I was kind of out of it for a couple weeks. But after we got done in Nashville, I set up at my house and had our engineer, Paul Figueroa, come in and record a lot of my vocals and solos here. Then we finished up at Henson [Recording Studios in L.A.]. So that’s four stops for this one record.”

Gear-wise, Cantrell reports that he “used a lot of the old standard stuff. There’s always going to be a ton of G&L and Les Pauls with me, and there’s also a lot of my Dave Friedman ‘Double J’ amp that we put out a few years ago. Then we also used all sorts of cool, cleaner amps, like AC30s and Fenders. We even had a cigar box amp that Nick bought at the Pike Place Market [in Seattle]. We used that on about three or four songs with a baritone guitar and it sounded ridiculous.”

When it comes to describing what fans will hear on the record, Cantrell is considerably cagier. “It’s a record we haven’t done yet, I can tell you that,” he says. “But it’s also a record that has all the elements of anything you would expect from us. It’s got our fingerprint. And we’re really proud of the material that we wrote and the performances we captured. There’s some really heavy shit, some really ugly stuff, some real beautiful stuff, some weirdo trippy shit… it’s good!”

Cantrell says he expects the album to be out “probably sometime this summer,” at which point Alice in Chains will already be well into a new touring cycle, with plans to hit Europe, Asia and Australia, as well as the U.S. multiple times. “Touring is its own animal, and it’s really the best reward, because you get to stand in front of people that care about you and want to hear you play,” he says. “And to this day it’s still amazing to me that people show up to see me play. But somehow it worked out where we were able to, through a lot of life, a lot of ups and downs and a lot of records, make some music that people gave a shit about. And the cool thing is we give a shit about it, too.

“You know, it’s a lot of work doing a record,” he continues, “and I think it gets harder the older we get. But we just wait until we’re ready and until we have enough material that’s up to the Alice in Chains standard, and then we do what we do. This is just the racket that we make when we get together.”

Amazon UK just announced that they will have an exclusive autographed version of this album:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07FSY3DSK/?tag=imwan-21

ALICE IN CHAINS' JERRY CANTRELL TALKS COMING FULL CIRCLE ON "DEEPER" NEW ALBUM

"What you wrote before, or what you did before, doesn't mean shit because it's done. You're not gonna redo it. Songwriting always starts the same way, you're starting with an absolute zero."

These are the words of Jerry Cantrell, founder and songwriter of Alice in Chains, the alternative-metal hybrid group that rose to prominence as part of the Nineties' Seattle-based musical movement marketed by media outlets and record labels as "grunge rock." This counterculture upheaval — led by bands like Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden and Nirvana — killed the poofy-haired, spandex-laden, pop-infused antics of Eighties glam rock, and filled the radio waves with raw sounds and emotions that were mostly kept hush from mainstream audiences by the major-label corporate machine.

Though most Seattle bands found distaste in the "grunge" moniker — as soon as the powers that be got wise to the genre's profitability and began to commodify the hell out of it, signing a legion of watered-down soundalike latecomers — there's no denying that the movement as a whole inspired a cultural and musical revolution, sparking a flame that would ignite edgier content across all facets of entertainment. But that was then — and Alice in Chains are not the same band they were in the Nineties, nor do they want to be.

After dominating the airwaves throughout the Nineties with a trifecta of influential studio releases — Facelift (1990), Dirt (1992) and Alice in Chains (1995) — the band faced the unthinkable in 2002 when lead singer Layne Staley passed away from a drug overdose. The group — guitarist/singer Cantrell, bassist Mike Inez and drummer Sean Kinney — reemerged in 2006 with a new singer, William DuVall, and in 2009 with a new album, Black Gives Way to Blue, and new stylistically evolved sound that added a deep layer of groovy muck to their music's signature dream-like haziness. Their songs had a different energy, but not so much so that the band lost its identity. The Alice in Chains of today and the Alice in Chains we knew in the Nineties are two different, yet connected, entities that share the same essence, like Siamese twins with contrasting personalities.

"It's about all of the beauty and all of the ugliness, all of the strengths and all of the weaknesses, all of the achievements, all of the losses," Cantrell shares about the band's overall approach to songwriting. "The music is very human. I guess that's all I could say about it. That was kind of the goal, to write material that hit on a deeper level."

What initially attracted Alice in Chains to hardcore punk–turned–hard rocker DuVall was his unique perspective, and ability to add his own creative vibrancy and energy to the band's music — instead of attempting to mimic the inimitable Staley. Bringing DuVall into the fold was not about finding a ringer, instead it was the beginning of writing a brand-new chapter in the group's storied history. The latest entry to that catalog is their new full-length release, Rainier Fog, (due August 24th) which has connected the band's past with its present in a special way.

The bulk of the basic tracks for the new record were laid down in the band's hometown of Seattle at Studio X, formerly known as Bad Animals Studio. (The rest of the LP was completed at producer Nick Raskulinecz's studio in Nashville, with final sessions taking place at Henson Studios in Hollywood.) This marked the first time Alice in Chains recorded there since cutting their 1995 self-titled album, the third and final LP to be released with Staley. Coincidentally, Rainier Fog is the third album to be recorded with DuVall.

"We didn't intend this. We realized it after the fact," says Cantrell. "There was some kind of kismet lined up with that."

The album opener "The One You Know" kicks things off in grand style with a punchy opening that unleashes a hammering half-time riff, which is gracefully balanced with a classic Alice in Chains chorus melody. When questioned about the intention behind the song's lyrics — which begin with the cryptic lines "I'm a little alike/You before things have changed/In a compass I ride/All this feels rearranged/Tell me, does it matter/If I'm still here, or I'm gone?/Shifting to the after/An imposter, I'm not the one you know" — Cantrell keeps his cards close to his chest.

"People have such different interpretations of things," he says. "That's the way that we've always written in this band, some things are kind of direct, but more often than not it's a little more obscure and multilayered. Kind of like a collage rather than a straight storyline. What did you get out of it?"

I offer my interpretation of the song: that on the surface it's seemingly about the band's evolution, a statement that Alice in Chains is no longer the band they once were, yet something recognizable remains.

"I think that's a great explanation," Cantrell responds. "It may or may not be what I wrote the song about. It's interesting, the bare-bone nugget of it is hard to say sometimes because I'm not in that space where I wrote that tune anymore.

"A piece can evolve and so can your own perception. It's cooler when people have their own ideas about what stuff is about, that way it's more personal. I've always enjoyed material like that. Where there's no clear answer."

Like "The One You Know," Rainier Fog songs such as "Drone," "Deaf Ears Blind Eyes" and "So Far Under" deal in heavy grooves and dreary vibes, while the title track is a slap-you-in-the-face rock number and "Red Giant" is the album's perfect storm, combining queasy sludge with an explosive chorus reminiscent of the band's early sound. Alice in Chains balance all this heaviness with bright acoustic tracks like "Fly" and the angelic "Maybe." All told, Rainier Fog delivers something for old and new fans alike, and leaves listeners with a feeling of great anticipation, and optimism, about what the future holds for the Seattle band.

"I mean it, man: I'm completely proud of every fuckin' song on this record," says Cantrell. "They're all different but they fit together as a cohesive piece of work. It's a real album."

Cantrell offers one final reflection. "Making music is a difficult process," he says. "But it's very fulfilling to go through it and come on the other side with a body of work you're really proud of. To have millions of people on this planet fuckin' dig your stuff, to be affected by it. I think the older you get, the more precious that is. The more you really fucking appreciate that."

Alice In Chains' Jerry Cantrell on New Album 'Rainier Fog': 'We're Not Trying to Repeat Ourselves'

Jerry Cantrell is not exactly the most smiley guy in rock n’ roll, but after throwing what has been called a perfect pitch at the Mariners/Astros game in Seattle’s Safeco Field, his ear-to-ear grin beamed as brightly as that rainbow over Tiger Stadium in Detroit while the city paid tribute to the late Aretha Franklin.

Cantrell and the other members of Alice In Chains—singer/rhythm guitarist William DuVall, bassist Mike Inez and drummer Sean Kinney—were on hand for a night at the ballpark named in their honor. It was the beginning of a week long series of events that also included the creation of a special Alice/Mariners commemorative t-shirt, a pop-up shop and career retrospective at the famed Jet City haunt The Crocodile, and an acoustic performance on “The Loupe,” the revolving glass floor 500 feet in the air on the iconic Space Needle (which will be broadcast on SiriusXM’s Lithium channel at 5 p.m. on Aug. 31).

Such gestures of appreciation from the band’s hometown serves as a strong reminder of how much this band and their music have meant to people not just in Seattle but all over the world in the 31 years they’ve been an entity. Rainier Fog is the group’s third album with DuVall, with whom Cantrell met after DuVall's old band Comes With The Fall opened for his 2002 solo tour in support of the most excellent Degradation Trip (more on that later). And much like those essential three LPs created with Layne Staley in Facelift, Dirt and Alice In Chains, Fog showcases the gradual progression of an established sound. Cantrell's increased vocal presence and his tandem vocals with DuVall have made this “mark two” version of Alice such a vital force in the thinning field of hard rock acts on modern radio. And it's the long game Cantrell and company are playing by making each new album slightly better than its predecessor, making Alice far more than a catalog artist or heritage act for '90s nostalgia hounds.

Billboard spoke with the guitarist shortly before the Alice night at Safeco.

The video for “The One You Know” is so good. How’d the idea come about?

We had a meeting with the filmmaker early on, and he was interested in doing this film with a kind of sci-fi theme but also a societal deal, too. It sounded really cool to us, and he had pitched the idea of maybe doing a whole film and break it up with footage of the band. The two things are completely unrelated theme-wise, for sure. But the two ideas could fit together quite nicely, as they do with this first one. We'll see how the rest of them go (laughs). But he was really cool. He came down and shot the live stuff in our rehearsal space and put 'em together.

It's nice to see such a well-crafted video being made regardless of whether or not MTV is going to play it.

We've always done music videos. Those venues may have gone away, but these ideas that we've grown up with—that being making a complete work with an album and also creating cool visuals for the music—remain cool things to us and there's still a space for it now that it lives out there on the Web.

It was also interesting that you chose a song off Rainier Fog for the first single that sees you leading off on vocals.

Well, Will and I are pretty much 50/50. We always have been as the band has gone on. We're kind of interchangeable, ya know?

That seems to be one of the big appeals to this particular version of Alice in Chains is how much the vocal harmonizing is so accentuated. How important was that aspect in choosing William?

It was the only way the band could have continued on. We started as and continue to evolve more into a two-singer band. Layne was a classic frontman in his own right, but he gave me the confidence to start singing more myself. I wrote a lot of this shit; I did then and I still do now. So I carry that with me, the language that we came up with together. And I learned a lot from that. The band has a certain sound, so when we moved on we knew we weren't going to change much. When I met William when he did some tours with me and my solo band, we did some Alice stuff together and he always did a great job of it. Then when it comes to Mike and Sean and I, that's another reason why the band sounds so intact is the three of us are still here, too. Those guys are really important to it as well; it gets overlooked a lot. Everybody always wants to talk about William and me, but those guys are really fucking important, Sean Kinney and Mike Inez. Also, the identity of the sound, that's carried over as well. But back to Will and I -- it's a pilot/co-pilot situation, and either one of us could be in either seat at any time.

Where did that vocal approach originally stem from for you? Did it come from groups like Simon & Garfunkel and the Everly Brothers?

With me and I think with Layne as well, we both independently liked bands that had multiple fucking voices and stuff. I grew up in a pretty musical house. My mom always played songs on the organ we had, and I would sing with her. Then I learned a lot in school being in choir and theater and shit like that, which was another major step. We did a lot of four-part quartet type stuff and would do a lot of school competitions and shit like that. I had a really great teacher who was cool and liked rock records. She would play us The Police and The Clash in school. Both my parents were country fans as well. I was born in the '60s, so I grew up listening to all the classics, especially the outlaw stuff, and my grandmother would always watch like The Lawrence Welk Show and any sort of musical variety show. Anytime there was music on television, we were checking it out. My mom's side of the family always had a great appreciation for music. Everyone played something as well, whether it was a clarinet or an accordion or a piano or whatever. Then you had AM radio that was always on with Jim Croce and Gordon Lightfoot and Elton John and Fleetwood Mac and all sorts of stuff like that. Then, of course, I discovered rock started listening to AC/DC and KISS, Van Halen, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath. Mix that recipe together and it will give you a little bit of a recipe behind what Alice in Chains is all about.

These three albums you have done with William DuVall complement each other all so well. Was that a conscious evolution?

You know, man, it's always been a pretty simple formula from fuckin' Facelift on, and the tradition remains the same. We're just trying to make the best fucking record we can make. Usually a few years have passed between records, so it's a different time and different subject matter, and people are in different spaces. But while a lot of things change, the method remains. We're always trying to hit that fuckin' bar. And we're not trying to repeat ourselves, which is really tricky, but we also haven't gone so far off into left field that the fans will lose you. We never have done that, even though every fucking record is completely different than every other one. You know, you can't take two records and stand them up next to each other and say, this one sounds like that one. That's pretty tough, you know, to pull that trick. Three records that we've done in our "mark two" incarnation, they don't sound like each other either, you know, and so that's cool. It keeps things fresh for us. It's exciting, but the identity and the fingerprint of the band isn't lost.

By the time this interview runs, you'll have already thrown out the first pitch at the Mariners/Astros game at Safeco Field…

I think the record is going to come out the day we play Seattle, so that's the way we just kind of lined it all up. I think Will and I were supposed to do the National Anthem, but I think they double booked. We were gonna play it on guitar, but I guess they booked somebody they couldn't fucking move. So I get to put my glove on and see if I can still throw the baseball. The last time I did it was years ago with Randy Johnson, who’s a big music fan and we were big fans of the Mariners of that era. I got to throw the first pitch to Randy, and he's like 6'6". He's so gigantic and he squats down behind the plate and I throw a pitch that was reasonably in the zone. I don't know if it was a strike, but it was just off the plate if it wasn't. Let’s see how I fare this year.

Lastly, though we're talking about Alice in Chains, there are a lot of people out there who are big fans of your solo work. Especially 2002’s Degradation Trip, your super session with Mike Bordin on drums and Robert Trujillo on bass. What are your thoughts on that album now, over 15 years later?

I was just really fucked up back then to be honest with you, and you can totally hear it on that record. It was done right before I got sober, and it was also done right when I was dealing with the death of my band, and then the unhappy coincidence of Layne passing away right after I released that record. So it was not a good time in my life, and it totally comes across on that record. It does strike a chord with a lot of people. It's a record I don't listen to a lot anymore because of all those things I mentioned. And I sobered up a year after Layne passed. But it's a record that's important to me, and I'll see Robert and Mike every once in a while and they’re like, "We should do some fucking shows, man. Some Degradation Trip shows." (laughs) I tell him we'll do it someday.

Alice in Chains' 'Rainier Fog' Blows in at No. 1 on Rock, Alternative & Hard Rock Album Charts

Alice in Chains snags its second No. 1 on Billboard's Top Rock Albums, Alternative Albums and Hard Rock Albums charts, as Rainier Fog debuts atop the Sept. 8-dated rankings.

The set starts with 31,000 equivalent album units earned (29,000 in traditional album sales), according to Nielsen Music.

Rainier marks the second set that Alice in Chains has taken to the top of the three charts, following The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here in 2013.

Concurrently, the new album, Alice in Chains' sixth full-length, and third since the death of original frontman Layne Staley in 2002, bows at No. 12 on the all-genre Billboard 200 chart.

After lead Fog single "The One You Know" peaked at No. 9 on the Mainstream Rock Songs airplay chart in July, marking the band's 17th top 10, follow-up "Never Fade" debuts at No. 25.

The bow is Alice in Chains' best since "Get Born Again," which started at No. 17 and reached No. 4 in 1999.

Jerry Cantrell Talks New Alice in Chains Album, 'Rainier Fog'

It’s been five years since Alice in Chains released their last studio album, 2013’s The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here. Which might seem like a long time, but guitarist, co-vocalist and primary songwriter Jerry Cantrell says it’s really just par for the course for the band these days. “It seems we’re on about a four-or five-year window, and that feels about right,” he says, speaking to Guitar World from his home in Los Angeles. “It takes a couple of years to write and record one, and it takes a couple of years to tour it. Then you go and do it all over again.”

But, he adds, when you do, in fact, do it all over again, “it’s also completely necessary to start from an absolute zero. Because it’s more about making something of quality than just jamming something out every year or two.”

With that, Cantrell launches into talking about Rainier Fog, Alice in Chains’ newest studio album and sixth full-length offering overall. Recorded in five different locales — including, in large part, Seattle’s Studio X, which (back when it was known as Bad Animals) was where Alice in Chains tracked their 1995 self-titled album — the new effort is indeed, to use Cantrell’s own words, something of quality. From the stomping rhythms and dissonant chord stabs of leadoff track and first single “The One You Know”; the buoyant melodies of “Rainier Fog” and the wispy, layered acoustic and electric guitar of “Fly” to the dark, psychedelic swirl of “Maybe”; the soaring, anthemic rock of “Never Fade” and the churning doom-blues of closer “All I Am”; Rainier Fog showcases the various sides and shades of the Alice in Chains sound. And it’s all held together by the band’s now-trademark lush vocal harmonies and Cantrell’s distinctive guitar playing, which is characterized by thick, grinding riffs, wide note bends (for just one example, see the harrowing “So Far Under”) and moaning, languid lead work.

“It’s got our identity all over it,” the 52-year-old guitarist acknowledges about Rainier Fog. “But at the same time, it’s a completely unique record. And we’re really proud of the material we wrote and the performances we captured. There’s some really great shit on it, you know?”

In fact, since reforming in the mid-2000s after roughly a decade of inactivity (a period of time which saw the tragic passing of original singer Layne Staley), Alice in Chains — Cantrell, drummer Sean Kinney, bassist Mike Inez and co-singer and guitarist William DuVall — have done a lot of really great shit, releasing two well-received albums (2009’s Grammy-nominated Black Gives Way to Blue and the follow- up The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here) and embarking on multiple successful world tours. And while they probably could have comfortably done the latter without the former — playing to large crowds in sheds and on festival grounds year after year with a setlist consisting solely of hits from their commercial peak in the 1990s — the fact is that, almost 30 years since the release of their seminal 1990 debut, Facelift, Alice in Chains are still wholly committed to writing and recording new music.

“That’s always been the case with us,” Cantrell says. “Maybe there are a handful of artists that have had a great career and have 20 fucking hits and don’t want to make new music. But most of the musicians I know, they always want to make new stuff. And you know, we’ve only got two EPs and, now, six studio albums. That’s not a lot of records over 30 years. But we’re still making great music and doing it for the same reasons we always did. And if you do that, when you’re lucky, you’ll have an audience that will follow you wherever that road takes you.”

For Rainier Fog you went back to Studio X in Seattle, which has a lot of history for Alice in Chains.

Yeah, it was Heart’s studio, Bad Animals, at the time we used it [to record 1995’s Alice in Chains]. And you know, it’s basically the same as it was. These days, a lot of recording stuff is getting kind of left to the wayside because people just record on their fucking computers at home. So a real analog studio with all the cool gear — that doesn’t get used that much. Studio X, they basically use it for orchestras and video games and movie soundtrack-type stuff now. There’s not a whole lot of rock bands there anymore. And you can see that in pretty much any studio you go into nowadays. You walk into Henson [Recording Studios in L.A.] and the hallway is just lined with Studer tape machines that are useless now because nobody records with them. So when we rolled into Studio X, that place hadn’t really been rocked out in a while. And we like to fuck around with everything that’s in there. We actually had to shut down for a couple days and have them go through the board and get everything tuned up.

What was it like to be back there?

It’s a cool room. It’s the hometown room. The bulk of the album was recorded there, and then the next biggest chunk was in Nashville, in [producer] Nick [Raskulinecz]’s studio. Then I did a bunch of vocals and guitar here at my place, and then we finished it off at Henson. And we actually recorded a couple things at [mixer] Joe Barresi’s place during the mix as well — we added that little “Rocket Man” kind of steel guitar slide on “Deaf Ears Blind Eyes.” So technically the album was recorded in five different locations. But the bulk of it was in Seattle and Nashville.

Was there any particular magic that was conjured from being back in Studio X?

Well, you know, aesthetically speaking, yes, because it’s nice being home. Sean [Kinney] lives there, and I’m a part-time resident now. I split my time between Seattle and L.A., though I’m probably in L.A. more. I’ve turned into a lizard — I just wanna roll out of bed and lay on a hot rock and fall in the pool when I wake up. [laughs] Not so easy to do that in Seattle.

So it was a choice that we made. But it wasn’t some big, like, “Hey, we’ve gotta go home and find our roots and connect with the magic!” It wasn’t any shit like that. It was more, “Hey, you wanna record at home?” Okay, cool. “Studio X available?” Okay, cool. Done. It wasn’t any sort of mission to capture something we had lost. We’re good wherever we work. But Studio X is part of our story. It’s where we recorded the self-titled record. And it’s the last studio record we did with Layne, so I guess there’s some significance there, too. It’s not something we spend a whole lot of time thinking about. But it’s all in there. You know the album title, right?

That was going to be my next question: The title references the highest mountain in Washington state, Mount Rainier. Any reason for that?

It just seemed right. Just by circumstances of us making that choice [to record in Seattle]. That song is kind of an homage to the hometown and all of the folks in the area, and our lives and our careers. It felt like an apt title. And it’s a great song.

Let’s talk about some of the songs on the record. The first one I wanted to ask you about is the opening track, “The One You Know,” which is also the first single. The main riff is so abrasive.

It’s a bizarre, dissonant, stabbing riff. It reminds me of the music when Janet Leigh’s getting stabbed in the shower [in the movie Psycho]. Like whee whee whee! [laughs] It always makes me think of that.

That riff is very much in your style, but the guitar tone itself is a little outside of what we think of as your characteristic sound.

Yeah. Tonally, it’s a little more bright. I remember, when we were going through the mix process, we monkeyed with that riff a little bit to make it just a little bit more metallic-sounding. A little more cutting. It’s got an edge to it. It draws blood.

You’ve also said that “The One You Know” has a David Bowie influence. Which, admittedly, is a bit difficult to detect.

[laughs] I almost wish I’d never mentioned that. Because now that I did I have to talk about it! It’s not really an overt influence. But when I listen to music and it starts to become something, then I start making connections in my head to other music. And the connection I made [with “The One You Know”] was to “Fame.” I actually don’t think it sounds like “Fame” at all, but it did remind me of it in the sense of having that kind of spacey, powerful, dick-swagger kind of shuffle with a fucked-up guitar riff. And then in the verse it’s got that weird little creepy riff that is kind of reminiscent of “Fame.” But I didn’t sit down and intend to do that—it’s just a connection I made after the fact. Bowie had passed not long before I wrote the song, so maybe he was just floating around in there a little bit as far as the particular feel. But it doesn’t sound anything like that song. And really, I could go through the whole record and say, you know, “That’s a Jethro Tull moment.” “That’s AC/DC.” “That’s Ted Nugent.” “That’s Eddie Money.” There’s an Eddie Money moment on this record! But 90 percent of these moments no one would ever pick up on. I just know them in my head.

Wait a minute—there’s an Eddie Money moment on the album?

It’s in “Rainier Fog,” actually. There’s that guitar swell as it goes back into the third verse: wheeeern! It reminds me of “Shakin’” [laughs] I remember telling that to the guys in the studio. But these are after-the-fact things. Something reminds me of “Fame” and something else reminds me of “Locomotive Breath” and something else reminds me of “Stranglehold.” And you know, it’s okay to have your influences come through. Especially if you’ve already got your own voice. That shit’s gonna come through—it’s a natural part of the process. But you’re still gonna sound like you. So it’s cool making those connections.

Okay, I’ll throw out a connection I made in my head while I was listening to the album, and you tell me if you agree. Your solo in the song “Fly” — it has this very Southern, classic rock-style phrasing to it. To me, it’s very Skynyrd-ish.

Yup! That’s a good call. That ending riff [sings the last lick], that’s totally Skynyrd, for sure. So there you go.

When it comes to your solos, my sense of things is that you’re a guy who improvises your lines.

You’re wrong! [ laughs] I’m actually much more of a writer than I am a free-form-solo kind of guy. I will do some of that stuff for sure — for feel and for vibe and whatever. But I’m a songwriter, so I write solos, too. That’s probably for two reasons — one, technically I’m not that fucking proficient. I couldn’t tell you what notes I’m playing or what scale I’m using. I can’t tell you that. I just kind of fumble around until I find it. So that’s one part of it. And then the other part is I’ve always looked at a solo as a piece of the music that needs to sing, you know? I always look at it as a cross between a horn line and a vocal line, and stuff like that. So, more often than not, my solos are pretty constructed. But that said, the way I construct them is by doing a lot of improv shit. So, I guess I write solos the same way I write songs. I throw a ton of shit up against the wall, and then I pick out the best pieces and string them together. The early phases of solo writing are impromptu, and then I use what makes sense to me for it to be a really powerful and complete statement in itself. It’s got to be something that’s going to add to the song, and not just a bunch of wankery.

What about your vocals? Are the harmonies that you construct intuitive, or are you thinking in terms of intervals, majors and minors, and things like that?

It’s all by feel. Generally, the way I go about songwriting is that the riff is always first — that’s where it starts. You get enough riffs and you put them all together, and you have a body that sounds like it could be a cool song. Then you start humming melody lines over it, and then the lyrics pretty much come last. Once all of that’s constructed, I just sit and fuck around with harmonies and stuff — I just sing along. But again, I’m not well-versed enough to be able to tell you intervals or keys. I don’t know any of that shit!

This is the third studio album you’ve done with William as a co-singer and guitarist. How has your working relationship developed over that time?

We’ve settled into a thing that works. Vocally it takes both of us to fly the plane, so it’s just about which guy’s voice sounds better on something. If it’s in a range that’s difficult for me, William can cover it, and if it’s in a range that’s difficult for Will, I can cover it. Then some things are constructed for us to kind of meld into one. And others — on the new album, songs like “Rainier Fog,” “All I Am,” “Maybe” — we just kind of feel it out and work out whatever the fuck works. [laughs] So we have a way that we go about doing things. But it does take work. It’s a lot of repetition and sitting there and working it out.

There’s also a third guitarist on the record. Chris DeGarmo, who used to be in Queensryche, makes an appearance.

Yeah! He played on “Drone” — he did the acoustic part that comes before the solo. That picking guitar in the middle, that’s Chris. And then I’m doing the electric on top of him. He lives in Seattle and he came down to the studio a couple of times. I was talking to him one day and I was like, “I’d love to have you on this record somewhere.” And he said, “That’s fine, but I don’t really need to do that. You guys do your thing.” But I was like, “No, I’d really like to have you on it!” So, he agreed, and he came down one day and I just happened to be working on “Drone.” I hadn’t really planned on a part in the song for him, but that was the day he showed up. And the part I was playing has this sort of fucked-up spider chord in it — where your pinkie is kind of dominant in the middle of the fretboard… it’s difficult, especially on an acoustic — and if you wanna take that a step further, it’s even more difficult on a 12-string. It’s nearly impossible to do without fretting out, or buzzing or whatever.

Well, back in the day Queensryche was known for using those sorts of extended chord voicings. That was Chris DeGarmo’s thing.

Exactly. He was totally the guy to do that. So when it was time to record that part I was kind of fumbling around with it, and I was like, “Why don’t you try it?” [laughs] And he said okay. So the way we did it — and we did this on a few songs — was that instead of doing one 12-string pass we did two six-string passes. One take with a guitar with super-thin strings, and then one take with a regular acoustic. Then you get the 12-string effect by running them together. Chris did two passes, and he did a great job. And more importantly, he’s one of my friends and one of my heroes from my hometown. I fucking love Queensryche. So it was great to have him on the record.

What gear did you use on Rainier Fog?

It’s pretty much the same stuff we always use. A good dose of G&L guitars. A lot of Gibson Les Paul. We’ll use some different guitars here and there for different vibes. Some Tele. Some Strat. I think we always end up whipping out Nick’s Flying V and using that for like a break/middle sound. And my buddy Mike Tempesta [formerly of Powerman 5000] got me one of those Gretsch Malcolm Young tribute replicas — I used that on “Maybe” and I think on “Fly” and one or two other songs. That guitar has a great fucking tone. And then there were various acoustics —Gibsons, Gretsches and Martins.

Ampwise, I used a lot of my Friedman Double J model [the Friedman JJ-100 Jerry Cantrell] and some Bogner — we always use a bunch of that. Nick also has a Laney Klipp and an Orange head that we used quite a bit. I think we used a [Vox] AC30 on some of the cleaner, janglier stuff. Another thing that was cool—you know that super-heavy part on “Drone”? That dah dah dah da-dahhh… Nick went down to the Pike Place Market in Seattle and bought this little amp that was made out of a cigar box for, like, 150 bucks or something like that. We used that amp on a couple of songs and it sounded so fucking great. I mean, it sounded like dogshit on its own. [laughs] But when we recorded it and laid it over the other stuff, it just amplified everything in the most gnarly way. It’s the kind of thing where if you have it in there it’s not necessarily something you notice, but when you take it away it’s something you completely notice. Like, “What just happened? The balls just went away!”

Earlier you mentioned how recording studios aren’t used by bands the way they once were. What do you think about the changes the industry has undergone over the past decade or so?

Well, things like Pro Tools — all the computer software, the editing stuff — you can do things quicker than you used to. So those are all good things. But, if you live in that world all the time, I think you lose some of the weight and depth and richness of the analog way of recording. We’ve always tried to do an equal mix of both and be in this place where you’re not completely moving into MP3-land, but you’re trying to use the benefits of the technology of today. And you’re also trying to not throw away what’s really cool about recording on tape, and going through a Neve board, and using analog gear and effects and cool microphones. It’s great using the technology we have today — it makes things easier, and in some cases it makes things a little cheaper. But you don’t want to lose those elements that add quality. I think a blend of both is good.

Do you think it’s more difficult to be a rock band these days?

Well, I don’t ever recall it being easy, you know? [laughs] So it’s just different now. As time goes on and as different generations of music come and go, the industry itself goes through changes. Technology advances and there are just natural things you have to adapt to. You always have to adapt to something.

Rock music has gone through a few permutations since we first had our day in the fucking sun, you know? Then it’s on to the next thing. And that’s totally okay. Shit, things change. That’s just part of fucking life.

•GUITARS: G&L Rampage (vintage and Jerry Cantrell Signature models), G&L Superhawk Deluxe Jerry Cantrell Signature, Gibson Les Paul Custom, Gretsch G6131MY-CS Custom Shop Malcolm Young “Salute” Jet, Gibson SG, Fender Custom Shop Stratocaster, Fender Telecaster, Gibson Flying V, plus Martin, Guild and Gibson acoustics

•AMPS: Friedman JJ-100 Jerry Cantrell Signature; vintage Marshall 2550 Silver Jubilee; vintage Orange; Bogner Fish; Soldano SLO- 100; Laney Klipp; Vox AC30; cigar box amp

•PEDALS: Dunlop JC95 Jerry Cantrell Signature Cry Baby Wah; Ibanez TS808 and TS9 Tube Screamer; Dunlop Talk Box; Electro-Harmonix Electric Mistress; Electro- Harmonix Memory Man; Dunlop JH-OC1 Jimi Hendrix Octavio; F’Lon (Klon Centaur clone built by engineer Paul “Fig” Figueroa)