Pulse Niagara

Weeping Tile: At Home in the Funhouse

November 13-19, 1997
by Christopher Waters

"It's a weird thing, recording something for all time, but it seemed a fairly comfortable and relaxed way to do it," says Weeping Tile's Sarah Harmer with regards to recording the bands new album, Valentino, at Kingston's Funhouse recording studio.

Located a mere fifteen minutes from the band members' homes, the studio, which after five years operation has gone into winter hibernation while it searches out a new home, served to be as mush as a hang-out spot as a work place for the roots-rock-influenced band. Its friendly environment fostered a laid back feel that translated Weeping Tile's cozy sessions into a warm and personal record. The studio was a perfect match for the band's easy going nature.

"A lot of songs were written on acoustic guitar then brought to the band, and then we all worked on them together," explains Harmer, the principle songwriter, singer and guitarist. "The creative process is a nebulous one. We all get in that headspace where we don't have anything else to do and we don't have to be anywhere, so we can be comfortable, be at home, get some kind of routine going. Then we can just be inspired to write. We all like hanging out with each other, we're great friends, so the whole process is just and extension of the band onto tape."

According to Harmer, Valentino's genre gear-shifting - tracks on the band's second album range from quiet folk to punk stomps - can be attributed to the members' varied musical libraries. Guitarist Luther Wright, bassis Sticky and drummer Camille Giroux share many influences with Harmer, influences that the band's sound reflects in the shape of Weeping Tile's own image.

"We listen to all types of music, so [Valentino] seemed to be the music that came out of that. As a whole, the album is like a trip that takes you in and out of ideas. We're comming from the forlk-rock-country-acoustic guitar-singing song kind of genre," she sums up with a sly laugh. "They seem to be fairly related."

"The music is such a delicate thing, you don't want to look at it closely," she says, in hopes of clarifying the creative process. "It's one of those mysterious things - it's a confidence thing, just writing in general and not being too self-conscious. When you get a coupe of albums worth of material behind you, I think it's always good to stay ahead of it, so you don't start to think, 'this is our body of work, this is us, this is our identification' kind of thing because you can get pretty self-conscious. A better perspective is 'you make this music and you record these albums and then you move on from it,' I think."

"Sometimes I try to imagine what people will think about the song I'm writing, but I generally try to shake that off and continue on my own. For me, a song generally has its highest moment right after I've written it. After a while, when you sing it night after night, sometimes at different moments, it has a new level and it feels new and there's new perspective on it, so there's that new kind of excitement. But it's always the next song I'm thinking about, rather than the stuff that's already done. Writing a song feels kind of like paying the rent, I've done that for the month. I don't have to think about it again. It's a bit of a creative release."

The liberation of which Harmer speaks is ever present in weeping Tile's music. Most of Valentino's tracks came together through jam sessions, which helped to shape and define each song's rough structure. that organic structure was then reconstructed and refined to completeness during the band's month tenure at Funhouse.

Even in Valentino's quietness moments there's an unexpected, albeit different, kind of force. Compared to the band's more amped offerings, Harmer says the band's studio performances strengthened the impact of countrified songs like 'Goin' Out' and 'Old Perfume'.

"I think you can creat a lot of energy at low volume," the songwriter offers. "But you don't have to scream over the volume to hear yourself through the monitors. That's a different thing entirely. When we recorded songs like 'Unshaven' and '2 Inches,' we saved those songs for late night sessions where we could get that whole loud energy that you get playing bars."

The one constant Harmer keeps comming back to when she talks about Valentino is the highly-prized comfort level afforded the band by recording amongst friends and so close to home at Funhouse. To hear her tell it, the process that resulted in Valentino was unforced and unblemished by outside concerns.

"We didn't really feel any kind of deadlines from the industry at all," she explains. "It was really just the evolution of the band. We had toured Cold Snap for a year and a half and winter was a good time to take off and not have to worry about driving through the snow. we were able to get back to Kingston and chill out for a couple of moths. it's necessary to get back into a regular way of life. We had a bunch of songs and the idea was to record in the spring.

"There was definetly a lot of time to creat. We wrote a song, the last song on the album, "Goin' Out,' in the studio while there was some technical stuff going on and we had a bunch of hours to kill. Sticky had her flute and Luther started to play the bass and I was playing guitar. "Goin' Out' was inspired by an invitation I got to sing at an AIDS vigil/ I didn't know what to play, so i wanted to write a song and that song came about. It was nice to be relaxed enough to be inspired to write there."

Rounding out Valentino's homey picture is the support of Weeping Tile's record company, who is content to let the band follow its instincts. Warner Canada has been working with the band patiently, helping it gain a foothold in Canada. The receptive label has encouraged the band to pursue its artistic intuition explains Harmer.

"It's been nice. I think Warner is a real artist's label, they give a sense of cooperation. We'll see how long it lasts," she says, with another sly laugh.


Back Home