To celebrate the 20th anniversary of Queensr˙che's Operation:Mindcrime album, Blistering.com will be running a multi-part retrospective detailing the album's creation titled, "I Remember Now: The 20th Anniversary of Operation:Mindcrime."
Compiled by noted Queensr˙che historian Christa Titus, the series will feature interviews with members involved in the album's creation, plus perspectives from two other relevant sources. With topics ranging from guitarist Michael Wilton's initial displeasure with the album's mix and singer Geoff Tate's assessment of how TV helped sell "Mindcrime," to bassist Eddie Jackson's take on dealing with new-found success and drummer Scott Rockenfield's intimate details of the band's rehearsal space, "I Remember Now: The 20th Anniversary of Operation: Mindcrime" is one of the first complete and comprehensive looks at one of rock's most intriguing concept albums and the players involved in it.
Writing a concept record isn’t easy. Writing a good one is even harder. Writing one that becomes iconic? You have a better chance of lightning striking you. According to the National Weather Service, that’s one shot in 400,000. But when you consider that Seattle quintet Queensr˙che is one in a million, maybe it’s not so surprising that when the band rolled the dice on Operation: Mindcrime 20 years ago, it beat the fickle rock’n’roll odds.
EMI Records released Operation: Mindcrime May 3, 1988, when Queensr˙che was an underground touring attraction that had been building its audience by touring with royalty like Ronnie James Dio and Kiss. It was a band with a tendency to do things differently. Instead of waiting for a record deal, it formed its own label, 206 Records, to sell a 1983 self-titled EP. Their locks were starched with hair spray, but beyond a few trial costume runs, their image wasn’t extreme. The leap they took in production between 1984 debut album The Warning and 1986 album Rage For Order was sizable, trading English heavy metal influences for a romantic goth production that rocked the speakers. They knew how to handle their instruments—and their singer was one of very few on the scene that could actually wail.
This concept album, already risky by nature, also faced odds related to timing. Its story of political corruption, the stranglehold of the U.S. drug trade and international strife was ripped from the headlines, but that didn’t make it timely on the music charts. Multi-platinum pop albums gripped the top 40 of the Billboard 200 dated May 7, 1988. The soundtrack to Dirty Dancing and U2’s The Joshua Tree had been certified for at least 10 million sold; George Michael’s, Richard Marx’s, Tiffany’s and Whitney Houston’s respective albums had sold in the range from three to nine million copies. Metal was in its commercial heyday, but it wasn’t simpatico to the Ryche’s vision. Iron Maiden and Megadeth were more aggressive, established titans. Also riding the chart were hard-partying upstarts you would have hid from your parents (Guns ’N Roses), pretty boys you could take home to your mamma (Poison, Bon Jovi) and that guy your father always warned you about (David Lee Roth).
But we’d be remiss if we didn’t note that in a freakish coincidence (or perhaps a left-handed sign post from the rock gods), at No. 54 was an album by R&B act the Deele called “Eyes Of A Stranger”: the title of the very song from Operation: Mindcrime that broke Queensr˙che’s career wide open when its video aired on MTV. The clip that introduced the characters of junkie anti-hero Nikki, doomed Sister Mary and treacherous revolutionary Dr. X was a thunderclap that snapped headbangers to attention. Here was an intelligent, climactic song that packed a wallop in songwriting, performance and imagery—and there was a whole album where that came from.
According to singer Geoff Tate, the album went gold (500,000) a week after the video for “Stranger” made its video debut. Among new converts and fans already tracking the band, it became a heavy metal mystery story, an instant bonding experience that launched fierce debates and crack-pot theories about who killed Sister Mary—which, given the limited number of characters and plot lines involved, were delightfully ludicrous. The stark red-and-white lettering and Mindcrime logo, plus the images of the album and accompanying videos, inspired listeners the world over to create their own artistic interpretations. Acid-wash denim jackets were adorned with rote copyings of Mindcrime visuals. People painted or drew pictures that told the story. The band’s tri-ryche logo was becoming a popular tattoo, and the album provided a new gallery of body art. Fans had a ball with depictions of murdering junkies, whoring nuns, demented priests, needles, rosaries, candles and guns. By the time the band presented the whole album on its Building Empires world tour three years later, the crowds were so ecstatic you would have thought Mindcrime was the newer release instead of 1990 follow-up Empire
While it’s regrettable that the lyrics to Mindcrime read like nothing has changed (with another Bush in the White House and the sexual abuse scandal of the Catholic Church, it’s almost like coming full circle), the words show that Queensr˙che knew the difference between singing about something of relevance and riding the bandwagon of a trend. Albums that were constructed to satisfy the taste of the moment (see the aforementioned Tiffany and Poison) were treated like the light and cheap wine coolers being sold by the vat-full at the time. The production team behind Mindcrime —Paul Northfield, Peter Collins and James “Jimbo” Barton—deserve credit for handling the material like a good merlot, because it aged accordingly. The album was already sophisticated when it debuted, easily outlasted hair metal and survived the grunge wave that bowled over lesser siblings, then hung tough in the underground during the boy band/pop princess era. It celebrates its (ironically) platinum anniversary when rock is the genre that feeds the concert circuit, Guitar Hero and Rock Band are launching a new generation of wannabe players, and the mainstream media is slowly grasping the idea that the music never died. Kids who were born in 1988 are now among Queensr˙che’s audience, ready to carry the album with them for another two decades.
Since the music and libretto of Mindcrime have been as thoroughly and repeatedly analyzed as poor Nikki was after getting carted off to the insane asylum, this series focuses on the band members themselves and their recollections from that time. Their memories are clear, their perspectives balanced. As they give their accounts on writing the album, recording it and presenting it live, pride, gratitude, humor and nostalgia can be felt. They share some interesting facts related to the Mindcrime era, and while you follow the series, be prepared for appearances from unexpected but relevant sources.
When Queensr˙che returned to the studio to record Empire it continued its tradition of raising awareness about the struggles within society. The record’s final track demanded, “Is there anybody listening?,” as if asking if fans got the message on the last go-around. Two decades after Mindcrime first raised its incredible voice, seasoned fans and newcomers alike still heed its call to arms.
The first installment of Blistering's Queensr˙che's Mindcrime retrospective will be posted on Tuesday, May 6th and will feature guitarist Michael Wilton.
