I. Need. Truth. (eBook)

My Life and Times in Project 86

Andrew Schwab (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
428 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-8583-2 (ISBN)

Infos

I. NEED. TRUTH. is an exhaustive journey through the music career of Andrew Schwab during his time in the band he founded and fronted, Project 86. It examines each song, album, and chapter of the band in brilliant, vibrant detail. More than an autobiography, it is an emotional demonstration of the sacrifices made by modern recording artists, and the vindication which only can come from great disappointment throughout the journey.

Andrew Schwab has written twelve books and ghostwritten many others. He is the frontman and founder of the band Project 86. He currently resides in Southern California.

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I. NEED. TRUTH. is an exhaustive journey through the music career of Andrew Schwab, during his time in the band he founded and fronted, Project 86. More than an autobiography, it is an emotional demonstration of the sacrifices made by modern recording artists, and the vindication which only can come from great disappointment throughout the journey. Each chapter contains a detailed look at the influences, circumstances, and situations which coalesced to produce the music, and especially the lyrics, for every album. Schwab also reveals the intricacies of the business side of the industry as he shares both hilarious and sobering episodes from the road. This volume packs an unexpected emotional punch; you will experience the depths of his disappointment as well as the heights of his vindication. Known as one of the most enigmatic vocalists in underground heavy music from the past several decades, Andrew Schwab's legacy with Project 86 is cemented as a source of inspiration for hundreds of thousands of music fans across the globe.

Textauszug

I.
THE FIRST NOISE
(1994-1996)

“Check, one, two…one, two…one, two…” I said into the mic.

The sound of my voice-my actual voice-coming through the PA was shocking. It was the first time that I had ever heard it on an actual, professional, audio system. I sounded like a stranger, in the best possible way. When I shouted, I shook the room. Every time I uttered a syllable, I heard the snares on the drum kit rattle, some twenty feet behind me.

Once I finished dialing in the monitor level, the band began checking the other instruments. I drifted off, my vision blurred, and I stared into the empty room. I visualized the many people which would fill the venue in a matter of hours.

We finally made it. It was the day I had anticipated my entire life. I knew, in my bones, that my world would never be the same again after. It was the point of no return, and I could hardly quantify the moment.

My thoughts moved to the events that led to this moment, on the precipice of my own band’s first show…

If I am honest, the obsession truly began when I heard the very first moments of “Rhymin’ and Stealin’” by the Beastie Boys, way back in the sixth grade. It was the first time I became a fan of a recording artist. And when I say “fan,” I mean this in the truest sense of the word. I couldn’t stop playing the cassette of Licensed to Ill nearly every waking moment before, during, and after school for about two years after its release. It became my fuel for everything from backyard football games to choring around the house. Every Saturday during summer, as I mowed our gigantic lawn in rural western Pennsylvania with a push-mower, you could see me mouthing the words:

I’m never in training, my voice is not straining. People always biting and I’m sick of complaining. So, I went into the locker room during classes. I went into your locker and I smashed your glasses…

In the fall, while I raked leaves, I cranked my Sony Walkman to ten:

Now, here’s a little story I gots to tell about three bad brothers, you know so well. It started way back in history…

And when the snow fell, the Beasties shoveled right alongside me, no matter how deep the drifts were:

Most illinest, b-boy. I got that feeling. I am most ill and I’m rhymin’ and stealin’…

I sang as if I were performing for a crowd. Sometimes I yelled, sometimes I held an air microphone, and sometimes I headbanged. My parents asked if I had a screw loose. Neighbors would drive by and stare. I didn’t care.

When I wasn’t listening on my headphones, I watched MTV incessantly, waiting for clips, interviews, or news about the Beasties. I gobbled up every poster and magazine they appeared in. I dressed like them, rocking Adidas and Levi’s like they did. I even had dreams, almost on a weekly basis, that I was hanging out with Mike D, Ad Rock, and MCA in New York City. I wanted to BE them, and I actually believed I could become them someday, no matter how ridiculous that idea seemed.

It took a while before I could find another band that moved me the way the Beastie Boys did. For a time, nothing compared. Then, in mid-1987, just before junior high, I found them.

I’ll never forget the moment. I was in my neighbor’s bedroom when he pulled out a tape and said, “Dude. You HAVE to hear this.”

He tossed me the case as he popped in the cassette. It had a red and white cover, with a jagged band logo, and a picture of a graveyard with rows of cross headstones. An acoustic guitar began playing a slow, cryptic melody.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Just wait for it,” he said.

After a few moments of quiet strumming, the full band kicked in. The walls, the windows, and the books on his bookshelf quivered. The sudden sound startled me, and I almost fell off his bed. I definitely wasn’t expecting the power of the guitars and drums. Then, the band broke down and went into a fast, thrash-metal verse. Finally, I heard that voice…

Lashing out the action, returning the reaction, weak are ripped and torn away. Hypnotizing power, crushing all that cower, battery is here to stay. Smashing through the boundaries, lunacy has found me, cannot stop the battery!

My jaw flew open as my friend jumped around the room and played guitar on a toy lightsaber. Moments later, his dad came in and yelled. He pushed the stop button before the second verse even started.

After one minute and thirty seconds of “Battery” from Master of Puppets, my world was obliterated and rebuilt from the ash. Metallica instantly became my favorite band in the universe.

Whereas the Beasties excelled in angst-filled teenage rebellion, Metallica met me in a deeper place, where sadness, anger, and self-loathing lived. Along with Puppets, I also discovered Ride the Lightning and Kill ‘Em All. They became my escape during the long bus rides home from school, as well as the score to my homework-filled evenings. A song accompanied every shower in my boom box. I wore their t-shirts to school almost every day and drew their logo on every notebook in my backpack. During lunch, my friends and I debated where their records ranked, and which songs were our favorite.

My love for Metallica was so devout that it evoked a lecture from my parents–the only lecture about music from my entire childhood. I humored them and pretended to stop listening to the band after the conversation. Their concern only increased my hunger for the music though; I devoured them even more (only in secret) after that conversation.

Around this time, I realized I was inherently alternative in my tastes. The reasons for this are clear, in hindsight: As the only child of divorced parents living in a small, rural town, I always felt like an outsider. I was a thoughtful, but insecure kid who excelled in school but who was shy and awkward. Right or wrong, I always felt as if I was neither seen nor heard by those around me. I spent a good deal of my youth daydreaming about escaping to fantastic planets and assuming fantastic identities.

My junior high years came with heightened feelings of alienation and insecurity. Fueled by surging testosterone and all that accompanies the transition from childhood to adulthood, I became addicted to the search for sonic inspiration. I found it in Slayer, Iron Maiden, Anthrax, Public Enemy, and Run, D.M.C. This continued into high school, when I found N.W.A., Slayer, Geto Boys, Cypress Hill, Soundgarden, Nirvana, Dr. Dre, Smashing Pumpkins, and Alice in Chains. Each had their own, special place in my heart, and I have distinct memories and experiences attached to specific lyrics, songs, and albums.

I never had a very wide musical palette, unlike most of those around me. Some have called me a music snob over the years. All I can say is, I always loved a short list of artists deeply. To me, music was more than just something to listen to and enjoy; it had to take me somewhere, or I wasn’t very interested in it. If it transported me, I wanted to immerse myself in the song, album, or artist in question. The goal was to learn and understand every single lyric so I could perform the songs. Imitating the pitch, tone, and even the stage moves of my heroes became an obsession.

Then, after high school, around age eighteen, I discovered the four most influential bands of my life. These bands had a direct influence on my decision to start Project 86.

In the fall of 1993, I attended junior college in Mission Viejo, California. Inside the campus bookstore was a CD vending machine. It was a unique apparatus, because you could preview each of the records on display for thirty seconds before you bought one. One day, my friend Jason suggested I check out a specific record from a band I had never heard before. The album cover was hard to miss. It bore a picture of a burning monk.1 The text on the cover said four words: Rage Against the Machine. I pushed the preview button. It’s impossible to quantify what I felt in the moments that followed.

The first thing I heard as the music faded in was a high-pitched voice repeating a vocal line.

…now you do what they told ya.

The words were not sung, but spoken. The band echoed each line with syncopated stabs that sounded nasty. The singer’s energy built each time he spoke, increasing in venom and intensity. You could feel something monumental was coming. I was completely locked in, riveted. Then, the band kicked into the chorus and my mind, body, and soul completely melted.

Those who died are justified, for wearing a badge and they’re chosen whites.

I didn’t know anything could make me feel the way I felt in those moments. When the clip ended, I just stood there, motionless, shaking my head, smiling. More than the Beastie Boys, more than even Metallica, there has never been an introduction to a band like that one.

That afternoon I rocked that album for eight hours straight in my bedroom. Eight. Hours. Rage, to me, was a perfect balance of rock, metal, punk, hardcore, and rap-everything I loved and had been searching for. Up to that point, I heard a few attempts by artists to meld...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 17.1.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Kunst / Musik / Theater ► Musik
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-8583-2 / 9798350985832