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The Gauntlet: Scum of the Earth |
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Longtime Rob Zombie guitarist Riggs didn't have to think too hard to come up with a name for his solo project Scum of the Earth. In the '90s, he carved the phrase into the body of one of his guitars and later tattooed the words on his stomach. He even named his publishing company Scum of the Earth Music.
"I always thought it was the coolest name for a band since I was a kid. There was that movie Scum of the Earth and I had some of these great 'Scum of the Earth' comic books I really liked."
And so the debut solo outing by the Zombie guitarist had a name to match its bestial sound. His debut album, Blah… Blah… Blah… Love Songs for the New Millennium, is built around high-propulsion riffs, mechanized beats, growling vocals and horror film soundbytes. If there are similarities between some of the carnivalesque cuts on the record and those of Rob Zombie, its only because Riggs worked with Zombie for six years, writing and playing guitar parts for hits like "Dragula" and "Living Dead Girl."
"I'm really proud of the work I did with Rob, so I don't mind being compared to him. As long as people don't say Scum sounds like something that sucks," Riggs jokes. "But I did want to do things a little different, so I threw on a couple of acoustic songs that I've had around forever, 'Little Spider' and 'Give Up Your Ghost' so it's not all in-your-face, bash, bash, bash."
Most of the songs on Blah… Blah… Blah… were written by Riggs over the past decade, and stored on his computer for a stormy night. Then, when Rob Zombie decided to put his music career on hold to focus on making horror movies, Riggs found himself with extra time on his hands. At the behest of a dedicated fan, he hooked up with some old friends… bassist Clay Campbell and drummer Seven and Powerman 5000 guitarist Mike Tempesta, and Scum of the Earth was unearthed.
"There was a girl who had a Riggs fan site that I had gotten to know over the years," Riggs says. "She called me to see what I was doing, and I said, 'Nothing.' Two days later, she sent me a list of all these record companies that were interested in what I was up to, so I just dumped some stuff off my computer in my room and sent it to them and they liked it."
What's not to like? Blah… Blah… Blah… is a raucous celebration of crunching guitars, booty-wagging beats and propulsive rhythms produced by Riggs and mixed by Frank Gryner (Rob Zombie, A Perfect Circle) and Brandon Belski (Velvet Revolver, Staind, Static-X). The first single "Get Your Dead On," one of two tracks co-written with Powerman 5000 guitarist Mike Tempesta (the other was "Altargirl 13"), combines syncopated beats, blasting riffs and gurgling keyboards to devastating effect. The track featured drumming by Rob Zombie drummer John Tempesta (who also guests on "AltarGirl13" and "Beneath the Living"), and marks the first album collaboration between he
and his brother Mike.
"I don't know why they've never done anything before," Riggs says. "I thought maybe they didn't get along and they'd fight, but they got on better than any of us. Basically, Mike sent me the song, and I just arranged it a little bit."
Much of Blah… Blah… Blah… bubbled out like lava from a volcano -- a force of nature that's beyond premeditation or control. At the outset of the project, Riggs had over 100 songs in various states of completion, so he pulled out the ones that seemed the most finished and messed around with them, adding new segments and guest musicians almost on a whim. Drummer John Dolmayan, who Riggs met while on Ozzfest, added tribal percussion to "Little Spider" and funky clatter to "Bloodsucking Freakshow."
"He's really on his shit," Riggs says. "When he came in he hadn't really heard the songs. But he just played them a few times, then packed up his shit and left, and they were perfect."
Also pitching in on "Bloodsucking Freakshow" were Riggs' six year old son and drunk rock groupie chick. "It's a simple song, so I was trying to think of ways to make it more interesting, and I said to my kid, "Hey, come in here and sing on this." I had to bribe him with all kinds of money and gifts because he was too scared to sing it. But he ended up doing it and it sounded cool. Then, really late one night, one of my cousins came over with a bunch of drunk chicks so I had one of the drunk chicks sing the other part on it. She was pretty wasted and was laying on the floor in the studio when she did it. She wants that song to do really well so she can meet some movie star and marry him. Her goal is to lure one of the little elf guys from Lord of the Rings."
Such spontaneity was pretty indicative of Riggs' creative approach. While he was recording "Give Up Your Ghost," for instance, Peggy Roman Jacobson, a violinist who was a friend of a friend, dropped by the studio, and Riggs asked her to record a fiddle part. "I just never knew what was gonna happen through the process of creating this whole thing," Riggs admits. "I just thought I'd just do some shit that was totally uninhibited, and see how it turned out. And it turned out the exact same as anything else I've ever done."
Maybe musically, but lyrically Riggs addresses the kind of personal issues and problems he sought escape from in his past projects. "Give Up Your Ghost," for instance," is about the recent death of his grandfather, one of the two people who raised and supported Riggs. And "Nothing Girl" is about the see-saw qualities of romantic relationships.
"A lot of these are towards-the-end-of-your-relationship songs, when you want
to fucking kill each other," Riggs reveals. "That's where I'm always at. There's never a beginning or a middle, it's just always the end for me. It's starts out at the end and goes on for years. And finally it ends, kind of."
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