“Wallher” was recorded at East Hall Studios in Fayetteville, AR. I used a 1995 Warwick Fortress Masterman five string direct into the board. Chris Moore may have run the bass through some kind of tube preamp to add to the growl, but for the most part that’s the pure tone of the bass. All the bass was done in one take except for a little solo section that I overdubbed. I originally had a longer solo, but it was cut. Mark Chiaro, who co-wrote the tune, played all that skanky guitar. He also did the deep-voiced vocal intro. Acid Jack did all the other vocals. Chris played Hammond as well as drums. Mark and I recorded the take to a drum machine, but Chris came back later and added the drums and Hammond. I think it grooved harder with the drum machine, but oh well I wasn’t the producer.

This tune was created by Mark and me in the studio while we were waiting for Chris to get back from wherever he goes to. It had been a very long time since I had played with Mark, and we had previously never had the chance to record together in a studio. “Wallher” just kind of came out as we were throwing ideas at each other. It reminds me of the type of playing we did together in a band called Brokin Hed. We just wanted to do some southern rock-bluesy-funky music, and I think we did just that.

This song got its title thanks to Chris’s dog, Sydney. You see, Sydney likes to roam around looking for dead things. The longer the thing has been dead the better. Once she finds this old dead thing, she wallows all in it. I suppose she thinks the funk coming off the dead thing is some kind of doggy perfume or something. Anyway, post-wallow Sydney feels so proud of her new fragrance that she is compelled to share. She either goes back into Chris’s house or into the studio (which is on the same lot) to spread her new stench. On this particular occasion she chose the studio. We just happened to be there recording this song.

I wish there was some way to convey smell through the internet. Until that technology is achieved I can only ask you to imagine. Imagine if an opossum had eaten rotten peaches and curdled milk then stood out in the rain and afterwards stepped in dog poop. Before the opossum could fully digest his meal or clean the poop off his feet, he takes ill and drops dead. Then his carcass bloats in the hot and humid summer weather of Arkansas for exactly one week, four days, three hours, five minutes, and four seconds. At the precise moment the opossum remains explode from the pressure of nauseous gases trapped within it, a medium-sized female beagle happens upon it and commences to wallow. Now envision four grown men wildly scattering once the foul smelling hound enters a studio control room. As the men flee exclaiming curses and wearing disgusted looks, the beagle sits on the studio’s couch completely oblivious as to why these humans would act in such a way. That’s what “Wallher” is about.

Hear a sample here.

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