RISING FORCE: UP, UP, UP AND YNGWIE!!!

RISING FORCE: UP, UP, UP AND YNGWIE!!!

FEATURES

Sharon Liveten

It’s drizzling in Southern California, and the natives, most of whom have never seen rain outside of the Universal Studio tour, are panicking. Traffic on the highway has slowed to a crawl. It wouldn’t really matter, except for the knowledge that in a distant, nondescript rehearsal studio, Swedish guitar whiz Yngwie Malmsteen is waiting for me with an egg timer running. He’s halfway through a five day rehearsal blitz before hitting the road, and feels he has better things to do than interviews.

When I finally arrive, though, the impatient, tall (the red cowboy boots help) ax man is charming—except that he occasionally lapses into Swedish, and responds to protests with, ‘‘Don’t worry, you’ve got it all on tape.” Right. Anybody know a good translator?

Still, there are a few things about his latest projects that he wants to make clear, and in English.

“It’s kind of weird,” he begins slowly. ‘‘Because I was in Alcatrazz at the same time as I did the solo album. But then I left the band, and am doing this. I just did the solo album more or less as a side thing, but it actually became the thing that I am now. But it really isn’t now, because it isn’t released yet. This,” he says, gesturing at the cluttered studio, ‘‘is another album altogether. Do you see?”

It makes perfect sense. Really. The recently released Yngwie Maimsteen's Rising Force is his solo project. The band he’s taking on tour (and eventually to vinyl) also happens to be called Rising Force. (It turns out that every band Malmsteen has ever formed has also used that moniker.) But the solo disc, using most of the members of the current group, was completed while Malmsteen was technically a part of Alcatrazz, the metal band founded by Graham Bonnet. However, there was a delay in releasing the solo record. In the meantime, Yngwie got this Rising Force together, and wrote an album’s worth of material. That stuff won’t be heard on record until the fall.

All of the waiting has frustrated Yngwie, and he’s not one who suffers disappointment well, or often. At the tender age of 21, Yngwie Malmsteen is a legend in the making. And as one who tends to believe his own publicity, he likes to be in control. That was most of the reason he split from Alcatrazz last year.

With nary a trace of sarcasm, he states, ‘‘I’m not difficult to get along with, as long as people do what I tell them to do. But I couldn’t get along with the guys in Alcatrazz, and they couldn’t get along with me.”

Part of the problem was the matter of priorities. Bonnet was the voice of Rainbow and MSG. He’s used to being heard, and cares deeply about lyrics, sweating every syllable. Malmsteen is a talented and flashy guitarist who doesn’t give a damn about words. Therein lay the predicament.

“I don’t know,” admits Yngwie, between slugs of Swedish beer. ‘‘Lyrics are a pain in the ass. Most of the lyrics on my album were written about 20 minutes before we recorded. It actually only takes about three minutes to write a song.”

If those differences weren’t enough, there were other sources of tension within Alcatrazz. Like the fact that Yngwie is a good 10 years younger than any of his former co-workers.

‘‘One of the main reasons I left Alcatrazz,” he insists, ‘‘was our age difference. We could never agree on anything. Because their influences were like Buddy Holly and the Beatles, and stuff like that. I thought it was very hard to cope with, because I was not into any of that stuff. What I used to really listen to was Blackmore, Emerson, Lake & Palmer. Stuff like that. These guys,” he gestures to his band, all of whom are under 23, ‘‘they all have the same influences. And everybody likes classical music.”

It shows on his solo record. The disc is primarily instrumental, full of lacy guitar solos with classically-influenced melodies. Although Yngwie insists it’s ‘‘sort of free-form electric-jazz,” the music is closer to Bach-meets-electricity.

‘‘It’s different,” claims Yngwie proudly. ‘‘We don’t sound like anything else out there.”

He’s also pleased as punch with the way his latest Rising Force has shaped up. For one thing, they know exactly who is in charge. Bassist Marcel Jacob nods with a grin, ‘‘He’s really easy to get along with, as long as you do what he tells you to do.” The band was not picked solely for their willingness to obey orders, though no doubt it helped. Keyboard player Jens Johansson worked on the solo record, and recruited his brother, drummer Anders for the band. Marcel had played with the first, Swedish version of the band. Jeff Scott Soto, a vocalist with a David Lee Roth growl—and the only non-Swede—came aboard after answering an ad shown on MTV.

They’d all worked in bands, but only Yngwie had much experience in the recording studio. Apparently their first session was an adventure in learning, and surviving it was a test of endurance.

It helped to remember that Yngwie was the boss. And the producer. Malmsteen frowns slightly and protests, “I try not to offend anyone, but if I have an idea for a song, I don’t usually just write the chords. I write most of the parts, and I’m quite concerned with the way I want it to sound. I have very strong ideas of how I want each particular song to sound. I’m not totally close-minded. But if they play something that they think is better, but I don’t think is better—it’s not better.”

Even though Malmsteen wouldn’t permit an outside producer in his project, the mantle of authority isn’t always easy. There’s all of those decisions to make.

‘‘Sometimes it’s difficult being the producer as well,” he confesses. ‘‘You can always get things when you know exactly what you want. But when you get what you thought you wanted, sometimes you don’t want it anymore. That’s a very common thing, especially with me. I always have this goal, and when I get there, I want something else, ’cause that wasn’t good enough. You can go on forever, and P all you end up doing is spending too much money in the studio. So what I used to do was go with what I felt was the best thing right then. Even though I might not really like it to the fullest. Sometimes I’ll go with a track that has a more spontaneous feeling to it, rather than something that could be more technically perfect. You have to find a middle point where you aren’t so strict.”

Like on tour, for instance. Malmsteen and Rising Force are about to embark on a road trip that may keep them busy until Christmas. Yngwie, a veteran of a number of tours, is not exactly jumping up and down with glee. In fact, he looks troubled. ‘‘I don’t really enjoy touring all that much. It’s hard to be on a bus for eight hours, looking at the desert, or the cows. Just sitting there. And if you get bored, you can’t drink because you have to play. Touring is hurry up and wait. It’s the time that kills me. You travel for 23 hours a day to play for one hour, which I might enjoy, if the show goes well. I really look forward to the end of the tour. And then, what always seems to happen, is that you get to the end, and they hand you a piece of paper that says three more weeks. It feels like it never ends.”

“It actually only takes about three minutes to write a song. ” -Yngwie Malmsteen

Anders concurs, ‘‘It’s not the touring, it’s the traveling.”

Yngwie nods in agreement, and continues, ‘‘But the best times I ever had onstage were when I used to tour with Eddie Money. We used to play in front of 20,000 people a night. What felt so good was to be totally alone onstage—because then I didn’t enjoy playing with buggers—and then I’d stop, and the people would go crazy. That was nice too. But if it’s actually the playing,” he looks thoughtful, ‘‘if that’s all you really enjoy, you can stand here and play all day long. If it’s the audience, then you play live.” He brightens and adds, “Maybe we can get the audience to tour. We’ll stay put. All the bands will set up their own great stage, and play the same place every night. Just the audience will change.”

That’s one way of avoiding the airplane flights he dreads. Yes indeedy, the guy who claims to fear nothing is more than a tad wary of steel birds. Blushing slightly, he insists, “It’s not that I’m afraid to fly, I’m just always aware of what could happen, but everybody is.” He isn’t at all concerned with the future Rising Force has on the ground. The man has faith.

“I have a really good gut feeling that we might be one of the best appreciated young, new bands coming up. You can never really tell, but for the moment it looks very, very good. I wouldn’t doubt or be surprised if, within a year, we’d be very popular.”

If that means he has to do time as a guitar hero, he figures he can survive, although that isn’t his dream. But Malmsteen is a realist, and keeps his eye firmly planted on that bottom line.

“Making money isn’t one of our main goals,” he states. “But it’s also a very important part of being a musician. You can lie and say, ‘I don’t care about the money,’ but that is bullshit. Anybody who’s been in this business knows that you can’t play the music unless you make money. And you can’t make money unless you are popular and sell. In other words, you have to find a middle thing, where you really like what you’re doing, and make sure everybody else does too. That’s what this group is trying to do. We’re not prostituting anything for the simple fact of selling records.”

He takes a final swallow of beer, and stands up, to usher me back out into the drizzle. Before I go he whispers in conspiratorial tones, “We weren’t really practicing. This time maybe we’ll just go onstage and do nothing, to see if anybody’s listening.” It might not make him much money, but it would sure provide fodder for the legend.