Mitch
Harris will turn 51 this Halloween, a fitting birthday for a member of Napalm
Death. Napalm Death’s latest material you
will definitely want to check out, but he also teamed up for a project called
Brave the Cold with Megadeth’s Dirk Verbeuren.
Their first video was “Hallmark of Tyranny” on their hard-hitting debut
album called Scarcity.
I got
to hear a lot about Mitch before talking to him for the first time, as he had
grown up with Tony Costanza, who I would talk to for hours on the phone for the
last 16 years of his life, meeting up with him whenever we were on the same
side of the country as the other. Before
his death, Tony and I had been working on book about him growing up in Las
Vegas, and Mitch was one of the characters he had told me about growing up
with, along with a few other of their mutual friends, including Ahrue Luster. It was interesting that these guys grew up
together and all made it in music as far as they did, independently of each
other, but still in touch.
Having
relocated to Las Vegas from New York when he was young, Mitch moved to England
for 26 years, but he made his way back to Las Vegas.
“Well,
I took a break from Napalm when my parents got sick,” Mitch explained. “I lost them both in a few years, but I was
there when it mattered. I’ve always been
writing music behind scenes, and Napalm Death had asked me to write music, but
I just write. Let it flow. No writer’s
block. I had enough for an album of material, and I didn’t want to let go of my
own vision. I didn’t feel comfortable
with anyone else playing my stuff. I had
recorded some songs, some from as far back as ’96 and Order of the Leach album.
“I sent it to Dirk, and
he’s such a nice dude,” Mitch gushed. “He’s
into the underground, and this is an underground old school band with a modern
twist. I asked him to pick some tracks
that he’d like to play with, and he chose 12 tracks. After I lost mom, I went to LA, came home,
and flew to England for the next Napalm, ‘Throes of Joy.’
“Two years ago, it was
hard for vocals in between tours, hard to find a label. The music industry’s upside down. I found transition from Victory and mine from
Napalm. We got the deal done, got happy
for Napalm. It’s all timing.”
With
Logan Mader, formerly of Machine Head and Soulfly, producing the album, I asked
Mitch how he had gotten involved.
“I took it home and
thought, ‘it sounds awesome,’ but I still needed to figure out what I was doing
vocally. Usually, I do a handheld mic,
but I was doing voices I haven’t done.
The way Logan had it setup made it easy.
We went through, selecting the ones that sounded so good, or the parts that
don’t sound quite so good, so we’d redo it.
It took three weeks all together, so quite quick. I sat on it for two years, thought of
releasing it myself, but I got them involved.
I’m so excited to have a team to help get it out with the pandemic. Nobody’s touring, so it’s difficult to get
people’s attention, with everyone worried about current state of the
world. Music is important, and I
appreciate spreading the message.”
His way of writing
reminded me of how Tony Costanza would record.
“Blind Eye, for example. I just record. Just record. Don’t
practice. I pick up the guitar and get a
part I like. If I have to put it down,
plug it in, and by time I did all that, I’d forgot what I was doing, so I just
push record for 20 minutes a day. If
it’s flowing, it could be an hour of part of material. I do not even use a click track. It seems boring if not playing with someone,
so I visualize what drums would be. I
don’t listen to anything for a while. If
playing, it’s more obvious where the next change and next part would be.”
That process had changed
for him over the years. “I used to lay
and not forget; it’d take me a year to finish a song. Have an hour of material to listen to, get
rid of the shitty parts, get it stuck in my head, get a magical feeling, and if
it was worth learning, I figure it out again, program drums, break it up how I
see it, open to interpretation. I’ve
been working like that since 2012.”
That way of writing can
be cumbersome, as the hours of recoding adds up quickly. He shared, “At one point, I had 17 hours of
material to go through, and it took me three months to arrange. It’s not just sit in a room and jam with each
other; I work alone. If I have
structured idea with someone, I’ll have a song finished in 20 minutes, because
it’s already prepared, so I work alone.
It gets lonely and frustrating, and it’s not how others work, but I
don’t really jam. I come in with finished
songs and get it done. It’s not a hobby
where it’s hang in the garage and have a great away time. That’s not overly professional. The fun part is playing live, knocking their
socks off; for writing, it’s more productive this way.”
When he was younger, his
writing process was a little different.
“In the early days, it was me and a drummer, jamming. It’s stress related. Me and Alan Strong jammed as many days a week
as we could, record stuff, come back the next day, remember what we did, and
go. Have another part for middle, and
that thing was a song. What is a
song? What’s considered a song? What’s the definition? I didn’t even care. We went into the studio, recorded, played it
tight, and now I write alone for the most part.”
He detailed the
difference when in a studio and keeping things organic. “In the studio, I want the most natural
feeling possible. You can punch in and
fix things, but sometimes mistakes are cool.
Leave the little things in, like a little noise, and that’s what gives
it character.” This is true in all kinds
of art.
“My favorite part is the
lyrics. I listen back to tapes and write a lot of lyrics. We had studio coming, needed to do it quick,
and wasn’t sure if it would work, but somehow it did. I tried to keep it as organic as possible,
like the olden days, but raw, in your face, with the song already
arranged. I had a book of 300 pages of
ideas printed out, spent a lot of times on lyrics of the band, and mostly about
the message of where humanity went wrong.
I had been following the downside of humanity, the elite, the control,
where we are going, post apocalyptic views, eutopia, not to be doom and gloom,
but historic account of where we are going.
In the last 20 years, it’s changed dramatically. It’s the good old days of 2019 already. WTF?
People need to that to get through what they are going through.
“To them, Napalm was a
way of life, a community, a shared vision.
People into Napalm Death are more intellectual than the average person,
but if you can understand the messages involved and respect it, then you’re a
higher level thinker. To some people,
it’s just a speck. It doesn’t convert
them to the band; it’s a love or hate it type of thing, but it’s more freeform. Freedom of expression, but it’s a tricky
situation what not to say these days. I
hope it gives comfort for someone somewhere.
It also gave Dirk a lot of pleasure having input. What do you think of this title? Should we
end here? What about the artwork? It’s
not a one man show. I like that
input. When there’s too many cooks,
everyone has their own vision, but this is fresh and new. Anything goes. It’s always exciting when hearing new vocals,
and that feels good.”
Brave the Cold’s sound
throws back to some of his early influences.
“The influences growing up, by the time I was playing guitar, was
Cryptic Slaughter, Death, DRI, Celtic Frost, Corrosion Of Conformity - the old
stuff and new stuff, Slayer, Venom, and Exodus came a part of that. Somehow, I never thought about it. Arhue (Luster), who’s in Ill Nino now, I sent
him the album, and he said, “it reminded me of stuff we loved in the 80s.” Somehow, it’s all in there, a little of
everything, but it’s own thing now.
People got into that music as a second wave. Before, there was thrash and metal, no
classification like grunge core. People
don’t have those older influences, so a lot of things sound similar. It doesn’t sound old. It’s pushing the boundaries of it.”
Of course, it’s hard to
be hardcore all the time. “Sometimes
I’ll almost whisper into the mic and save my screaming voice for when it
matters. It I like the way it goes, I’ll
write if it follows the drums, the melody follows the riff, or is its own
thing, but lyrics become important. On
the opening line of each song, it’s very picturesque, almost like Lord of the
Rings. They melted; where did they
go? It was a pandemic moment before the
pandemic, Dead Feed. Underlining theme
is poetic and scenic. I took the liberty
of editing videos to b-songs, the video with the lyrics, a story within the
story, superdeep, but made for each other.
Pink Floyd’s The Wall, it’s not just an album. Thankfully, I worked with directors that gave
permission to use their footage, supporting the arts. I wish more people would support the artists
these days, on the good days and the bad days.”
We talked about growing
in Las Vegas for part of the book that I was working on with Tony Costanza
before he died, and Mitch talked about an early project he had with Tony and
Brian Brassfield, explaining how Tony and Brian had often recorded together.
Tony had said, “We didn't know if we wanted to call ourselves
Afterbirth or Dead Fetus.”
Brian confirmed that they
had been about 14 at the time of the project.
“I think it may have been both of our first attempt at some kind of
music I guess,” he laughed. “That’s woodshed
right there. Drum throne in a cedar closet,
me playing through 1 x 12 practice amp.
Playing original guitar riffs.
Trying to do something, but we were clueless. And we knew it. But it was the idea; we both saw it. Hilarious.
I remember one song: ‘Torture
Murder Raping Killing.”’
Tony had also told me
that Mitch had borrowed a riff from his song ‘Arcade.’ Tony had said, “It was a funny song, because
even though we had long hair, we weren't stoners.” He added, ‘“Arcade’ was about taking your
girlfriend down to the arcade and letting her play video games. It was knocking on stoners that wore moccasin
boots. We were against stoners. It was a funny song to us.. Another line was,
‘put on your moccasin boots and your parachute pants...”’
When I asked Mitch about
this, he started laughing and singing the song.
‘“Take your baby down to the arcade, give her a quarter, and let her get
started…’ We needed an intro riff, and I
played that, which became ‘Misconduct.’
I asked Tony if he minded if I used it, and he said, ‘yeah, go ahead.’ It’s the same riff in ‘Scum,’ but in reverse,
in Napalm Death. Tony was in the mix.”
There are so many more
stories about the thrashers who grew up in Las Vegas, and I guess you just
might have to wait for my book to read more…
Marisa Williams earned
her Master’s in Writing from the Johns Hopkins University. She is the author of more than 100
books: www.lulu.com/spotlight/thorisaz
Follow her on Twitter
@booksnbling
