Let’s talk about Betty, since you guys are playing that whole album here. Not only was it a departure for you guys, and metal as a whole, at the time, it’s become such a cult favorite and influenced so many people. How do you feel about it at this point? I love playing it, because it’s a challenge and there are songs on it that we never performed live. “Sam Hell” had never been performed live before. “The Silver Hawaiian” was on the back, back, backburner. “Biscuits for Smut” was only played on the original Betty tour in ’94. So, bringing those songs back in with the songs that get played all the time, like “Tic” and “Milquetoast” and “I Know,” has been really cool. [And] I didn’t know that people held the album in such high esteem. We’ve sold out all the shows, 900 people in London and 1,200 in Brussels. I was like, “What the f*ck is going on?”
At the time, fans of Meantime wanted that record again, and that’s just not the kind of band we were. I guess maybe in the back of my mind I wanted to rattle people’s cages a little bit. I thought, “Man we just sold 650,000 records; we can do whatever we want!” (laughs) So we did, and I don’t think they we’re reluctant about any of it.
Is there a danger of becoming a nostalgia act with tours like this? That people will only want to hear Betty and Meantime? I’m not afraid of it, because I couldn’t possibly do that and live with myself. We’re always going to play songs off Betty and Meantime, because those are our two biggest albums, but people who love Helmet are incredibly loyal. I think Helmet fans aren’t disappointed if we don’t play “In the Meantime” or “Milquetoast” or “Just Another Victim.” This time we’re playing Betty, so they know they’re gonna hear those songs, and that’s been cool.
When people request a song I’m amazed. We’ll play for two hours and someone will say, “ I can’t believe you didn’t play ‘See You Dead’,” and we’re like, “Really? We just played for two f*cking hours—we just did 35 songs.” So, you’re never gonna please everyone, but I think 95 percent are gonna leave happy with what they heard.
How do you feel about your place in the history of hardcore and post-hardcore music? I don’t feel like an elder statesman. I mean, I kind of felt it a little bit on the Warped Tour in 2006, when people would come up to me in the catering line and say, “Mr. Hamilton, can I talk to you?” But it was kind of cute in a way. Joan Jett was on that tour, too, and she’s a year older than I am, so we talked about that a little, seeing fans from 6 years old to 60 after you’ve been around for 20 years.
I’m always flattered when guys in bands, like Dime from Pantera said, “I told you, you were going to influence me.” And when a player that great tells you you influenced him, you should feel some sense of accomplishment, right? Or Gene Simmons put his arm around me and told me I’m the future of music. But as far as being Grandpa Hardcore, I guess I don’t think about it like that. As long as I’m performing at a high level I’m going to go out and play and do it because I love it.
You’ve collaborated with a pretty eclectic mix acts—House of Pain, Uberzone, Therapy. What do you look for in your musical partners? Stuff comes to me and I consider it. I turn down a lot of stuff, and I don’t mean offense, because some of them are bigger than we are, household names. I just didn’t feel like it was the right thing for me.
I feel like if it makes me say, “Oh this is interesting,” ... the hip-hop thing, for instance. I thought, “This isn’t going anywhere.” I guess that’s why I’m not an A&R guy. I did an interview for Rolling Stone, where the guy said, “This rap-rock thing could be huge,” and my response was, “No f*cking way man.” (laughs) Cut to Linkin Park selling Madison Square Garden out.
Another thing that’s important to me is if I get a good vibe from somebody, like Mike Shinoda from Linkin Park. He was humble and nice and enthusiastic, and they have a completely different approach to music making than I have. So I got to insert myself into their environment to see what I could contribute. Or going to New Orleans after we toured with Nine Inch Nails—Trent [Reznor] was extremely gracious and put me up in an apartment and showed me how to use the computer and let me write. I learned a lot from them and I think they learned some from me.
Anything that is somewhat intellectually interesting to me, or an artist that is important to me in collaboration. Finding someone that is working toward something. We chose this musical path or it chose us. I chose to be a musician because I knew I would never run out of something to work on. Solving musical problems is a lifelong pursuit. I will never master it, so it’s fun to plow forward. I think a mistake that a lot of rock stars make is that they want us to know that they’re an artist; they’re not just a pop star or rock star. You have to be willing to get up there and suck at something and be humbled and then get better at it. I’ve been working at jazz guitar for a million years, and I feel I’m a lot better than I was 20 years ago. I’ve done a couple shows with my hero-mentor John Stowell, who lives in Portland, Oregon, and I know I will never get to his level, but I feel I can play with him now, and it’s a rush.
Do you feel like your jazz and classical background has helped to keep Helmet’s sound unique? Absolutely. Solos are not, “Look I can play fast scales.” It’s part sh*t-sculpting, part guitar-playing, part mess. I’m trying stuff out, there’s a spirit of improvisation in the solo. I don’t necessarily sit around and try to develop something, because I’m not that smart. I just play—play a riff until it finally reveals itself, and the riffs come to me through that musical experience.
Helmet April 30, 8 p.m., $18-$21. Backstage Bar & Billiards, 702-382-2227.
