Early September 2001. New Zealand's greatest rock'n'roll band arrives in LA to fulfil a dream, to make their definitive fifth LP in the USA - just as panic slips its fingers 'round the nation's throat. 12 years of relentless progress, from a Wellington highschool to Australia's biggest arenas, and suddenly the end of the world is nigh. Timing or what?
"The impact September 11 had on us was immense," says drummer Tom Larkin. "It impacted on us so much we had to change our name. For a while we weren't even sure we'd get this album made. Everything was on the line. But in a bizarre way, it gave us the last push we needed to actually do this."
"For a week or so," says singer Jon Toogood, "if Phil (Knight, guitarist) had got a chance to fly, he would have gone. And I probably wouldn't have been far behind him. I'd never been that close to a war zone before. I wanted to get home to my family. That was all that mattered."
"In the end," says Tom. "It got down to 'Does anybody ever choose their own death?' No. You can get hit by a car in Melbourne. That was the point where we all decided we were gonna stand and deliver. 'Comfort Me' came directly out of the 9-11 situation and it was the opening of the door. Then it was 'OK, let's make the best album of our lives'."
'Comfort Me' is the first single from Pacifier - the Kiwi rock gods previously known as Shihad. In ballistic sound and nakedly personal content, it represents a quantum leap for a band already renowned for taking the world in giant strides, gig by explosive gig.
Recorded at LA's Pulse Studios with producer Josh Abrahams, Pacifier is the album Shihad always threatened to make - a glorious, melodic, metallic rock'n'roll beast with its heart in its hands and its hair standing on end.
Jon, Tom, Phil and bassist Karl K connected with LA's hottest rock producer way before his success with Orgy, Korn, Limp Bizkit and Staind. He'd remixed a couple of tracks from Shihad's second album of 1996, Killjoy, and like everyone who crosses their path, he was blown away.
"Josh always remembered us," says Tom, "so when he got to the stage of having his own label and everything his way, he said 'OK, who do I want to sign here? That bunch of Kiwis.' It was fate, 'cause we were playing LA at the time. He got The Label people down and they loved it."
The Label is the new record label formed by monster US management company The Firm (Limp Bizkit, Korn, Linkin Park). It only took one gig and the band soon to be known as Pacifier was signed to both. All concerned knew that Shihad's stunning fourth album, The General Electric, had taken Australasia by storm. Now it was the world's turn.
"Josh's thing was finding the right tunes," says Tom. "His technique is completely different to anyone else we'd worked with. Most of them concentrate on the sound, but he has this amazing engineer, Ryan Williams (Pearl Jam, Rage, Stone Temple Pilots), to deal with making the drums and guitars sound like hell. Josh is all about the big picture."
"Josh pushed me really hard," says Jon. "He encouraged me to write just with voice and acoustic guitar rather than jamming with the whole band. We tried loads of different approaches, like jamming with Scott Weiland, DJ Lethal from Limp Bizkit?" which resulted in two of Pacifier's stand out tracks, "Walls" and "Coming Down".
"The vocal approach on this album was sing your fucking guts out until you've given yourself a hernia," he says. "When you don't think you've got any voice left, that tended to be the time you'd get the best stuff. I told Josh early on, I don't want to sound like a computer. I'd rather be worked to the bone to get the right takes."
From the plain frantic "Semi-Normal" to the keening desperation of "Run" to the bare-boned emotion of "Home", Jon's urgent vocal delivery is the icing on an immaculately crafted cake, a work of flawlessly constructed, utterly committed hard rock substance and disarmingly heartfelt lyrics.
"Ultimately what most affected the vocal sound was how much I thought about the words beforehand," Jon says. "Josh was always saying 'What does this mean to you, right now? And don't be afraid to say it'. It was fucking tough sometimes, to face yourself like that. I'm not saying I didn't believe what I was singing on the last album, but this time it's so clear it brings tears to my eyes."
The 12 songs on Pacifier are the cream of a huge cache of tunes accumulated over the past two years, from the road-tested "Trademark" and "Nothing" to LA-refined balltearers like "Everything", the result of several songs rammed together at Josh Abrahams' suggestion.
"This record is about a journey," says Tom. "It's about us going somewhere musically and personally. It's only when you come to the end that you've really defined it. We took everything apart, glued it back together and the final pieces of the puzzle just went click-click-click."
"We argued like motherfuckers," Jon adds with characteristic candour. "We had days where we actually looked at each other and said 'Do we really want to be in the same room? Do we really want to make a record at all? Do we really want to be part of this business?'
"When you answer those questions truthfully it makes you realise, 'If we're gonna do this, let's not waste time talking bullshit or making music for any other reason than to make a fucking amazing album that we love'. It was a really honest and heart-wrenching position for me - and for everyone.
"If this record had to come down to a simple theme, it would be all about change," he says. "Shedding your skin and starting again, you know?"
Which makes a new name strangely appropriate. As Wellington teenagers, Tom and Jon misheard the name Shihad in David Lynch's film, Dune. Post 9-11, of course, the warlike connotations of the word 'jihad' were impossible to ignore. Pacifier was the title of the third single from The General Electric. Eventually, it stuck.
"It was an idea of Karl's that the band slowly warmed to," says Tom, "but it pushed us around internally for quite a while. We had two members saying 'We've got to change it' and two members going 'No way.' Then it got to the point where the word 'jihad' was on the news every 30 seconds so finally it was like, 'OK, we get it'."
"This record is so good," Jon says, "it's gonna surpass the whole having-to-change-your-name-after-12-years bullshit. Once people hear this record, if they love this band, they're not even gonna think about it."
Make peace, not war. Like the best rock ever made, Pacifier is the perfect release valve, made of the finest riffs and the sturdiest hooks by world class craftsmen. And it's built to last.
"Ultimately," says Tom, "I always imagine great albums as something you put on in the car, turn up too loud for the stereo, drive really fast and feel great afterwards. That's where we're coming from. Hopefully this is one of those point-in-your-life markers that people will come back to in 10 years' time. I want people to treat it as a soundtrack to their lives. That's what it is to us."
Source: http://www.pacifierband.com/default.cfm?show=profile