B.F. Raid takes us inside Combat Zone, a powerful heavy metal portrait of Boston, exploring memory, survival, hardship, and the human stories that shaped the band’s music.
1.
“Combat Zone” is much more than a traditional heavy metal album, functioning
almost like a musical documentary about Greater Boston. What inspired you to
turn the city, its changing neighborhoods, and the people connected to them
into the central subject of the record?
The
connection became clear as the songs came together. I was drawing on people,
places, and experiences, and Boston kept appearing in the writing. We came up
right outside Boston, and the city was a huge part of our lives as musicians
and as people. The clubs, the neighborhoods, the relationships, and the things
you witnessed all stay with you. As those places change or disappear, you
become more aware of how much history lives in people’s memories. That gave the
record its direction. I wanted to give those experiences somewhere to live in
the music. Calling it an audio documentary describes that approach: different
stories that, taken together, give you a sense of the Boston we’ve known.
2. The
title Combat Zone refers to a specific area of Boston rather than carrying a
military meaning. What does the title mean to B.F. Raid, and what did you want
listeners to understand about the realities behind it?
Combat Zone
was simply the name given to that area of Boston. In the 1960s, when it was
given that name, so many military people were frequenting the dive bars and
strip clubs that the neighborhood looked like a military deployment. It wasn’t
meant to carry a military image or suggest that the album was about warfare. It
was a dangerous, seedy part of the city, probably one of the most dangerous and
seedy areas in Boston at the time. The name became associated with the
neighborhood itself, including the dive bars, strip clubs, and the people who
lived and worked there.
The title
gets your attention, but the record is really about the people and situations
connected to that world and Greater Boston in general. Growing up in that
environment in the 1980s gave a person a harder exterior, almost like a shell.
It’s a difficult thing to explain. Bostonians are some of the friendliest
people you could meet, but we always seem to have a chip on our shoulder. I
wanted listeners to understand the humanity behind the reputation—the
uncertainty, isolation, danger, and survival that can exist in places like
that. The record is about the people who lived and worked there, and about how
growing up around those realities shaped us.
3. Your
songs deal with addiction, isolation, damaged relationships, survival, memory,
and personal consequences. How did you approach writing about such difficult
subjects without romanticizing or judging the people and situations you
portray?
I try to
begin with the person. You can describe someone’s behavior very easily;
understanding what is underneath it takes more care. Someone might be looking
for relief, affection, or a place where they feel accepted, and the way they
pursue that can eventually hurt them or somebody else. Both things belong in
the story.
With
“Divebar Allstars,” for example, there is familiarity and escape in that
environment, but there is also the realization that years can disappear while
somebody keeps telling themselves they’re going to leave. That cost matters. I
want the listener to recognize the damage while still recognizing the human
being. The writing has to leave room for that complexity instead of handing
down a verdict. These were also the kinds of people and situations we
encountered while growing up, and they became part of how we understood the
world and ourselves.
4. The
album connects Boston’s former Combat Zone with the present-day area around
Massachusetts Avenue and Melnea Cass Boulevard. How have your own memories of
Boston changed as those neighborhoods have changed over the years?
I still
have a lot of affection for the Boston we came up around. The places we played
and the people associated with them are part of how I remember being young. As
I’ve gotten older, though, I’ve become more conscious of the difficult lives
that existed alongside those memories. Recording in Boston brought that into
the present again. Seeing what was happening outside the studio made the
connection between different eras feel immediate.
Recording
in an area filled with drug users and prostitutes brought me right back to the
1980s. That hard exterior, or shell, as I described it, came back immediately,
as if it had never left me. When you’re loading tens of thousands of dollars’
worth of gear into cars at midnight while every eyeball on the street is
watching you, that street-ready younger man inside you emerges and is instantly
on alert. You become aware of your surroundings, your equipment, and the people
around you in a way that feels almost automatic.
The old
Combat Zone was a dangerous and seedy part of the city, and the area around
Mass. and Cass has its own difficult reality. The neighborhoods are different,
but addiction, exploitation, vulnerability, and people trying to survive
connect parts of those histories. My memories now hold more of that complexity.
I can miss a place and still recognize that some people experienced it very
differently.
5. You
describe B.F. Raid as a true four-member songwriting unit, where a song can
completely transform once everyone begins working on it. Can you take us
through how a typical B.F. Raid song develops from its initial idea to the
finished track?
For me, it
often begins with a riff. I record ideas at home, and sometimes something sits
for a while before I find another part that belongs with it. What I bring to
the band might be fairly developed or still need a lot of work. In most cases,
I start working with our drummer Jamie first. He is always up for working and
has been that way since he was a teenager. This allows me to refine the riffs,
go home and work on the structure a bit more, and by the time Moose and Bill
come into the mix, we have a pretty good foundation.
Bill brings
songs in too; “On Causeway” and “Down But Not Out” started with him. Once we
begin working together, everybody can change the direction. Moose might find a
bass movement that makes me hear the harmony differently. Jamie might change
the rhythmic feel or the way two sections connect. Bill’s vocal phrasing can
show us where something needs more space. We work through those possibilities
until the arrangement feels convincing as a whole. Everybody has a say, and
everybody has to listen. That process is similar to how people shape one
another while growing up: you bring your own ideas and experiences into the
room, but the people around you change how you understand them.
6.
Bruce, your use of atonal ideas, dissonance, unexpected intervals, and
unresolved movement gives the band’s heavy metal foundation a distinctive
character. What attracts you to musical tension and dissonance, and how do you
know when you’ve found the right balance?
I’ve always
been interested in atonal ideas and the tension they can create. During the
time between Raided Again and Combat Zone, I did a deep dive into the work of
Olivier Messiaen. Studying his methods and his approach to composition helped
me take the music further out while still keeping it structured. His ideas
showed me that music could move into unfamiliar territory without becoming
random. There could be dissonance, unusual intervals, and unexpected movement,
but everything could still have a purpose and a framework.
That gave
me a better way to understand what I had already been drawn to instinctively.
An unexpected interval or a phrase that doesn’t settle where you expect can
create unease before anybody sings a word. That is useful when the subject
itself is uncomfortable or unresolved. A lot of musical weight comes from the
relationship between notes, and a small movement against the bass can change
the feeling of an entire passage. The balance becomes clear when I hear what
everyone else is doing. There might be a strong pulse, a bass line, or a vocal
melody that gives the listener something to hold onto while the guitar creates
tension around it. I keep asking whether the part strengthens the song. If the
musical idea starts distracting from the feeling, it needs another look.
7.
Matt’s bass often acts as the tonal center while also stepping forward as a
featured instrument, while Jamie’s drumming provides much of the movement and
dynamics. How important is it for each instrument to have the freedom to move
beyond its traditional role within the band?
It’s
essential to how we work. Every other week, Moose, Jamie, and I practice solely
on the music. Sometimes we focus on just two of us, or even work separately on
one person’s part. This is when we kick around ideas and get to try different
things. I’ll admit that during these sessions we push each other pretty hard,
but the hard work always pays off.
It does get
comical at times when one of us can’t get a riff or part over the top. One of
us will get stuck or frustrated on a section and look up to see the other two
laughing. That breaks the tension, and we remember that it’s only music and
that we shouldn’t take ourselves too seriously.
Those
sessions give each of us the freedom to move beyond our traditional roles.
Moose can establish a foundation that gives me room to explore, or introduce a
melodic idea that deserves to be heard clearly. Jamie has that same freedom
with the drums. The way he builds a section, changes the emphasis, or lets
something breathe can determine how the whole arrangement feels. Those
contributions are part of the composition. The freedom works because we pay
attention to each other. Sometimes your strongest contribution is a more active
part, and sometimes it’s knowing exactly when to pull back. That also leaves
Bill the room he needs to deliver the story. The song benefits from all four
personalities.
8.
Tracks such as “Divebar Allstars,” “Punchdrunk,” and “The Greatest Show in
Town” seem to capture very different sides of local life. Do you see the album
as a collection of individual stories, or as one larger narrative about Boston
and the people who live there?
I see
individual stories that build a larger picture. “Divebar Allstars” was mainly
written about a dive bar I grew up across the street from, but it could apply
to almost any dive bar in Boston, including the ones in the Combat Zone.
Whenever you walk into a dive bar, you tend to see the same old-timers,
barflies, and gamblers sitting on the barstools. Those are the characters we
grew up seeing, and eventually we found ourselves sitting on the stools next to
them. They were people we knew, so we wanted to tell their stories honestly.
There is familiarity and escape in that environment, but there is also the
realization that years can disappear while somebody keeps telling themselves
they’re going to leave.
“Punchdrunk”
is about our hometown, Malden, which is only a short subway ride from Boston.
It brings us back to that Boston shell and the chip on our shoulder I talked
about. Malden was, and still is, a tough blue-collar city. I’m amazed when I
meet a man who has never been in a fight in his life. I had my first street
fight when I was six years old, on the first day of first grade, and there were
many more after that. The guy I fought that day is someone I’m still very close
with, and I remain close with his family to this day. A fight back then wasn’t
necessarily about anger or hatred. Sometimes it was simply someone testing you,
trying to find out what you were made of. That song is connected to that kind
of upbringing and the relationships that came out of it.
“The
Greatest Show in Town” was born during the Raided Again sessions. I was looking
out the window at Mass. and Cass, and it reminded me of the Combat Zone forty
years ago—but worse. The pain and addiction were in full view. People could
barely walk or stand, and some were sleeping on the pavement. This was much
worse than the old Combat Zone. It didn’t have the bars and neon lights of the
old Zone; it was a stark, gray industrial area filled with warehouses.
The song is
a collection of thoughts about how I’ve seen Boston’s sex-work industry change
so drastically, while in many ways remaining the same. The title is sarcastic
because you can find many of these women listed in the adult-entertainment
sections of local newspapers. People should not use other people for their
entertainment. The song deals with exploitation, addiction, and the suffering
that people can overlook while watching someone else’s life unfold. Those are
very different experiences, and that range matters. A city contains affection,
disappointment, loyalty, loneliness, danger, and people trying to find their
way. Each song needs to stand on its own, but hearing them together gives the
record more depth. Someone who has never visited Boston can still recognize
those feelings.
9. You
recorded Combat Zone at The Record Co. in Boston with engineer Jamie Rowe,
while deliberately preserving the natural interaction and personality of the
performances. What did you want to capture in the studio that might have been
lost through overly polished or heavily edited production?
We wanted
the performances to retain the way we respond to one another. There are
differences in how we attack a note, sit against a beat, or shape a phrase, and
those details create the feel of the band. A section can build because of how
Jamie plays into it, how Moose supports that movement, or how Bill delivers a
line. If you smooth every variation away, you can weaken the reason that moment
worked.
Working at
The Record Co. with Jamie Rowe, the goal was to give the music clarity and
weight while keeping those individual qualities audible. Production matters a
great deal to me. I want it to help the listener hear the performance and feel
its movement. I also wanted the record to retain something human and lived-in,
because the songs come from real places, real people, and memories that have
stayed with us over time.
During the
recording of Combat Zone, Jamie Rowe opened his own studio, One Horse Studios,
in Waltham, Massachusetts. The final recording session took place there, as did
all of the mastering. The second I walked into One Horse Studios, I felt at
home. I’m excited to get back there as soon as possible. I love The Record Co.,
but Jamie is the common denominator between the two albums who makes things
work. Plus, there will be no more midnight load-outs in the middle of Mass. and
Cass.
10. Your
previous album, Raided Again, established the chemistry of the current lineup,
while Combat Zone appears to push the band into more ambitious musical and
lyrical territory. Now that the album is out, where do you see B.F. Raid going
next, and what would you like listeners to remember most about Combat Zone?
One of the
biggest things for all of us between Raided Again and Combat Zone was personal
development. We were all growing as musicians, and that growth directly
contributed to the writing and sound of Combat Zone. Bill built a home studio
where he could work, which gave him another place to develop ideas. I picked up
a seven-string guitar, and Moose bought a five-string bass. Those instruments
opened up new ranges and possibilities for the songs. Jamie also spent a lot of
time working with odd and funky time signatures, and many of those ideas found
their way onto the album.
I don’t
know exactly what is next, but I just bought an eight-string guitar and have
already started writing on it. I also have an electric violin sitting next to
me, so anything could happen. Whatever comes next, it will be heavy, maybe a
little strange, but definitely entertaining. That’s what B.F. Raid is.
Right now,
I also want Combat Zone to keep finding listeners. I hope people remember songs
that stayed with them, a sense of the lives behind those songs, and the sound
of four musicians who cared about what they were making.
Post a Comment