BIRDS OF PREY: Farmyard Firepower

By: Lord Randall

When the New Village People reform, “Boss” Ben Hogg of Relapse’s rumbling death machine Birds Of Prey will play the part of The Locksmith. Sure, he won’t look as fantastic as The Emo Kid or be as disgustingly appealing as The Tranny Whore, but he’ll be up there shakin’ his keychain with the best of ‘em. Having known Ben for longer than either of us would care to remember, this chat became less an interview and more a verbal deathmatch. Discussing new release The Hellpreacher, geography, and
late night locksmithery, the bell rings for round one…

Lord Randall: Most if not all of Birds Of Prey live within short driving distance from each other. Why did it take you so long to knock the shit out of this project? On another note, why bother, as you were all in a few other bands each back in 2006?

Ben Hogg: What the fuck are you talking about? You live up around Detroit, right? Is Milwaukee local for you? Chicago? Summer lives at least 8 or 9 hours south of Richmond, in Savannah, GA. Bo is 5 hours south, in some dump in South Carolina, I’m an hour and a half east of Richmond, and Dave is based out of Richmond in the loosest since of the word. Between time spent in Jersey and globe trotting with Municipal Waste and BBTS, this is hardly a marriage of convenience. On the other hand, if you’re being facetious, than I don’t appreciate the ruse. To your point of “why bother” with the project, if you were asked to be a part of something this cool, why not bother? I’m in it for the cash! I can’t wait for that ship to come in! My next home will be built with vinyl copies of The Hellpreacher as shingles and CDs as floor tiles.

Lord Randall: Granted, the sounds spewing from the Birdnest are more Wolverine Blues than Eyehategod, more Bolt Thrower than Black Sabbath. Actually, a friend asked me what you guys sounded like and I described it as “Bolt Thrower and Neil Young drunk on bathtub gin and running a train on that inbred “Dueling Banjos” kid from Deliverance”.

BH: Man, ain’t you clever! I like the description. I dunno how accurate it is, but I’ll take it as a compliment. The mission statement has never been spoken aloud. How fucking gay would I have to be to make a phone call to Larson like “I wanna sound like Autopsy”, then he says “Yeah, but I wanna mix in some Entombed”, or whatever. We plug in and the 3 records fall out.

Lord Randall: Everyone keeps referring to BoP as some sort of sludge/doom “supergroup”, but how accurate is that, really? Last time I checked, Baroness wasn’t doom, ATP wasn’t sludge, and Municipal Waste sure to shit wasn’t either. I’m even wondering if Beaten Back To Pure isn’t your way of riding that Great Southern Trendkill wave way too late.

BH: This couldn’t possibly interest anyone. Baroness are artsy, the Waste are party thrash, ATP and BBTP are/were mostly disliked, and Bo’s biggest band (Throtterod) didn’t blow up until after he left. Supergroup. ha!. What a joke! I’ll wake up tomorrow and go to work, just like today at 7am. How super is that? Not very.

Lord Randall: Must be Hell and a half trying to get together for even a simple jam session. All the same, you’ve cranked out an album roughly every 18 months since the start. What was your goal with The Hellpreacher?

BH: Initially it seemed fun, but the nuts and bolts of doing it are quite taxing on me. Writing words and shit should come easy, but I curl up and freak out about the prospect of doing it, or of letting people down, or simply being unable to make it all come together, then I buckle down and kick ass for a month or so. That’s how this album was done anyway. The first 2 brought about anxiety but this one had me on a whole new plane. I owed lyrics all over the place and all I could do was sweat it, but that’s my own pussy-ass neurosis. The overall goals are simple; rock the fuck out, enjoy the outcome, and wait for the shitty reviews. They’re coming.

Lord Randall: Have you run into any would-be thought police bitching about your lyrics? How is it that a true and touching romantic story like ‘Filthfarm Of Washington State’ becomes obscene.

BH: In the world of metal in which we all reside, people are pretty calloused to nasty/disturbing lyrical imagery, so I ain’t getting into a gross-out competition. I just want shit to be disturbing, like the Pig Destroyer guy. He does a great job. Sometimes he’s a little more esoteric, and I try to keep my shit straight down the line, so that’d be where what I do is different. The song ‘Overfucked And Underage’ is probably the one that I’ve heard some noise about, but, again, it is what it is.

Lord Randall: Let us into a little of the story behind ‘Juvie’.

BH: No, read the lyrics you lazy fuck. ‘Juvie’ is track 2 of a 10 chapter concept album, so it’s only a portion of one greater story. That’s what separates The Hellpreacher from the past two. Suffice it to say it has to do with a dude locked up in juvenile detention. The three dots at the end of ‘Where The Field Mice Play…’ and ‘…The Owl Closes In’ are supposed to tie the 2 interludes together, alas, no one was able to get it together and add the dots. In the future, I’ll deal directly with the art guy at Relapse. [There are] too many cooks in the kitchen. It’s something small, but the type of thing that eats at me forever. I hate when avoidable things are problems. At the end of the day, it’s my fault.

Lord Randall: Is there a lyrical theme running through The Hellpreacher, and what’s the concept behind the title?

BH: Yes. It’s the life story of the lead character from the song ‘Lice Halo’, off of Sulfur… Even if you only steal the album, find the lyric sheet and read along at least once. Please. That shit took some fucking doing. and took a lot out of me. It was not my idea. Larson runs the ship like it’s the Amistad, and he wanted a concept record. He beat it out of me. Voila! Enjoy.

Lord Randall: How involved are you guys with the packaging, “feel” of the albums you release? I mean, really why not just flatten manure, let it dry, and slip it into jewel cases?

BH: We give the lyrics to Orion at Relapse, and he hooks it up. He’s great. It’s a cost cutting measure but he does a fine job if you ask me. It’s a really shit hot layout – creepy and dark. If it was lavender with bunnies and flowers, I guess I’d say something, but his instincts are true. If I ran that label, I’d kick him a bonus. It saves some loot not having to farm out the art work. Some bands do, but the ones that have their art done in house, come out pretty fucking good if you ask me.

Lord Randall: Sure, all of America’s chock full of churches of every faith, but you seriously can’t throw a grenade in the South without hitting a handful of ultra-fundamentalist, fire-and-brimstone churches. Growing up in the South as you did, I think it’s exactly that type of upbringing, that “forced faith” as it were, that causes so many people to chafe so hard against it.

BH: Of course I grew up in a church, everybody did. Everybody. At 12 or 13 I quit going, but those first years of life will lock stuff into you. I raged against religion for years but when I’d get in a bind, I’d drop to my knees and I’m still here. I realize the lunacy of “faith”, but I can’t shake it, and honestly never could. At my advanced age (in metal terms, I’m ancient at 37), perhaps I’m just unwilling to face my mortality, but for whatever reason, the piece of religion I have retained fills a valuable spot in me. Fuck whoever doesn’t like it. It’s strictly personal between me and Whoever’s in charge.

Lord Randall: You work as a locksmith when not lounging by your pool on the grounds of the mansion in Rio you bought with those fat-ass checks from Relapse. What are a couple of the strangest stories you’ve come across, being the guy who lets people into or out of where they do or don’t want to be?

BH: Shit usually doesn’t get “weird good”, it gets “weird scary” at times. I’ll roll up on a job at night, some drunk lady wants me to lock out her old man by rekeying her locks, so I’ll be balls deep into the job, at a point where there is not a “good stopping point” and the dude comes home. Also anytime cops are involved. I saw a lady getting her laptop repossessed (a sheriff, the locksmith, and the repo guys all show up at once and break in if necessary), and she was screaming and attacking the lady cop and getting maced and shit. I’ve had to let family members into relative’s homes when they’re inside and dead. It can get pretty interesting. It’s mostly like any other job, but with occasional bursts of abject terror.

Lord Randall: Has BoP done any regional touring, and how feasible is it, what with the scheduling, price of fuel now, and all? That is, assuming anyone needs an opener for weekly Karaoke night or something.

BH: You haven’t paid any attention at all have you? We ain’t even had a 5-man rehearsal, much less played a show. We’ve contemplated a short run up the coast, but it’s tough when Baroness, the Waste and Parasytic (Larson’s new band) tour as much as they do.

Lord Randall: When touring, you and I both know things like, oh, real food, showers, money become true issues. Sometimes it’s like Survivor: Truck Stop, ya know? When funds get tight on the road and hunger takes over, what is one recipe for something dirt-ass cheap and filling?

BH: Man, any time I’ve gone out for any period of time, I try to pay off a credit card so I can incur expenses with a paid off credit card. I’m an adult with a job, and ain’t gonna put myself out there like that. Starvation is for the young. I tend to eat a lot of beer. As you know, beer can be food, but food cannot be beer. Write that down. Is that seriously the last question? Odd way to go out, but I don’t tell you how to run your business, because you don’t get involved with mine.