Heavy Metal Mentor
Scott Middleton talks about Cancer Bats, apprenticing under A-list producers, the serendipitous birth of Bat Sabbath, working with labels, and teaching new artists about honesty and integrity
Scott Middleton is best known as the guitarist for Cancer Bats. His band’s music is an organic synthesis of metal and hardcore, and they became an international force on the heels of their sophomore release, Hail Destroyer, in 2008. Middleton is a founding member, and his experiences—including regional touring, being a visible member of his local community, getting recruited by an important area label, landing prime slots at major rock festivals, and signing with BMG/Chrysalis—have taught him important lessons about establishing, and maintaining, a career in music. But it was his years working with and observing A-list producers like Gavin Brown (Billy Talent, Three Days Grace, The Tragically Hip) and Ross Robinson (Korn, Slipknot, At The Drive-in), plus the production team of Eric Ratz and Kenny Luong, that put him on his current path producing and developing new artists.
Middleton has a strong entrepreneurial streak as well, and in addition to his residency at School House Studios in Dundas, Ontario, he mixes and masters albums, and helps coordinate tours—including booking, transportation, and even backline rental—for international artists first coming to Canada. It’s a line of work that grew out of friendships made on the road while touring the Far East with Cancer Bats.
“We headlined a festival in Nepal last year,” Middleton says. “There’s a band from Kathmandu, called Underside, and they’re the biggest metal band in Nepal. They started a music festival and invited Cancer Bats to headline. We hit it off with them, and invited them on tour with us. Our friends from China, Spill Your Guts, also played that festival. It’s amazing to go so far from home, and to see these amazing bands that no one has ever heard of. I see so many great bands when we’re on the road in other countries that don’t get a chance the way American and Canadian bands do. I realized we can work together, and bring new and interesting music to North America.”
I first spoke with Middleton in 2015 for a gear-centric feature in Premier Guitar. Here we spoke about getting signed, hobnobbing with metal icons at awards shows and festivals, establishing Cancer Bats as a successful long term venture, apprenticing under world class producers, developing new talent and teaching them about integrity and authenticity, and the humble origins—and continuing saga—of Bat Sabbath, Cancer Bats’ Black Sabbath-loving alter ego.
How did Cancer Bats get started?
Liam Cormier, the singer in our band, and I are old friends. He lived in Montreal and I lived in Toronto. We met through going to see local hardcore punk bands in Toronto and the surrounding area when we were a bit younger, so we had this connection through music. At the time—this was in 2004—I had a job working for the national railway company of Canada. I could travel for free, and I would visit him at times. At one point—we had always talked about starting a band, just joking about it—and one day he said, “I thought of this name for a band called Cancer Bats. Let’s start that band.” I said, “Ok,” but didn’t take it seriously, because we talked about starting a band a lot.
Were you already playing guitar at that point?
Yeah, I had been in several bands, and had done some regional touring—touring halfway across Canada and some shows in the northeastern U.S. since about 2000 or 2001—I had been playing in bands since high school. Liam called me and said, “I can’t stop thinking about Cancer Bats. When you come up to Montreal again, bring your guitar.” The next weekend I booked a trip. We started writing songs together, and we immediately had an awesome chemistry. He also plays drums, and that’s how we were writing songs. The band I was in was a semi-professional metal band at that point. We were really trying to take it seriously. We were touring, and things were pretty intense with that. Cancer Bats was a side thing and, unlike my other band—where our goal was to never repeat a riff in a song—I was purposely not writing melodic European death metal songs. I wanted to write something totally different, a bit more punk, a bit more riff-based, and with more of a rock ’n’ roll song structure. Once we had a few songs that we had written—and Liam decided that he wanted to be the singer and not the drummer—we looked for a drummer and a bassist. I knew a guy who played drums, and we had a mutual friend who we knew played bass, so we got Liam to come to Toronto, because that’s where the other three of us were, and that’s how the first incarnation of Cancer Bats formed. I had been going to recording school at that point—I had left over recording time—and we recorded our first four-song demo. That was the first thing I ever recorded on my own, which wasn’t a school project, and it was sort of the perfect storm. The metal band that I was in started having member problems—we were losing guys—and I was stuck with a van that we had financed under my name. That gave me a push with Cancer Bats. The metal band had canceled some shows. I talked to the promoters, and they were willing to let Cancer Bats play instead. Our first shows were filling in for my other band, and we had this band van to do it. From our first show, people liked it. We were so amazed by that, because we had all been in bands that struggled, where the first six months playing shows was embarrassing. But we had learned from our mistakes, and had things planned out a bit better. From the first show we played, we sold our demo CDs, and if people were interested in us, had something to listen to.
You pressed that demo as a CD?
Originally, we did it old school, and we had a CD burner. We did photocopied art of our own that Liam did, and we sold them for $2. Eventually, we ran out of those and we couldn’t burn them fast enough. We would sell them out at every show. What led to us getting signed was there was this local band called Alexisonfire, who I was really good friends with. I had toured with them before and had filled in on guitar a couple of times, and every year, back in the day, they would host a series of Christmas shows, and I would go to those. I had one copy of our CD in my pocket, and I ran into Greg Below, the guy who ran their record label, Distort. He was interested in my old band for a minute—he took us out to dinner—and I think he could see that long term, we weren’t going to last. But we got along, and he asked me, “What’s your band doing?” I said, “I have a new band.” He said, “How can I hear it?” I said, “Here’s a CD [laughs].” Soon after that he somehow tracked me down at the train station that I worked at. He said, “Scott! It’s Greg from Distort Records. How’s it going? I can’t stop listening to this demo. I love it. When can I see you play?” I told him about an upcoming show in Toronto, and he said he was going to bring out some people. It was our first show at a bigger venue, and a place where every Wednesday they would give the bands an open guest list to fill the bar on what was normally a slow night. We convinced all our friends to go to that show. The awesome thing was that no other band was able to bring more than 10 people, so we played, had a great set, and the second we were done, everybody left. It looked really good on us. After that show, Greg was even more convinced that he wanted to see and hear more of us. He made it clear what his intentions were, but hadn’t yet offered us a contract. He was also a concert promoter and he put us on the road opening for a few American metal bands that were coming through. He was impressed with how we went over live, saw that people were making connections to our songs, and that Liam was a really great frontman. It was what he was looking for. Eventually, we signed with him, and he got us in the studio almost right away. In 2006, we released our first record, and Greg really took us under his wing—he did a bit more than some labels might do for their bands—he helped us get a booking agent, convinced us to start and register as a business, explained things like royalties and how that works, and pushed us in the right direction.
How are you incorporated?
We didn’t actually incorporate, we’re a partnership. Business law is different in Canada versus the States, and forming a corporation has certain advantages in America that we don’t necessarily have in Canada.
What kind of deal to you sign with Distort?
It was a four album deal. We were nobody and had no leg to stand on, or any kind of clout, so we weren’t in the business of asking for an advance, nor was one offered. But the label paid for everything. They financed everything, but they didn’t say, “Here’s the money, spend it how you want.” It wasn’t a deal where the band could take the money and blow it all on cocaine—like you hear stories of bands doing—we weren’t in that position, and we’re not those kinds of guys anyway. The contract was for the records and the recordings, hiring a producer and studio, music videos, marketing, distribution—that was all paid for. It was a legit record label distributed through Universal Records. Greg used to be an in-house engineer for EMI publishing in Toronto. He ran a studio for them, took what he learned from being around all those people for years, and started releasing records he liked. He was also a big metal concert promoter. He did a lot of things, he did them really well, and it massively helped us. We benefited from his guidance in a lot of ways.
Did Distort put out Hail Destroyer?
Yes. That was our serious breakthrough record. We did well on our first record, especially in Canada, but world-wide that took us to another level. That got us on the cover of Kerrang! and we got album of the year nominations in a lot of magazines.
That must have been awesome.
It was surreal. Going to award shows that Metallica and Rage Against The Machine were at. All the bands we grew up listening to were around us. It was amazing. Getting to play big festivals we only ever read about in magazines, and touring with cool bands. It was hard to imagine, especially because we came from a DIY local music scene, and went on to getting our own fan base everywhere in the world. That was astonishing for us. We were living the dream in a lot of ways—not to say it wasn’t hard work or that it was easy—but there were so many rewarding things that we got to be a part of, and we really felt blessed in a lot of ways.
Did you stay with Distort for the first four albums?
Yes. It’s kind of a sad story—without going into darker details—Greg ended up getting Parkinson’s Disease. The engine behind his label and business, and his life, suffered as a result of that. We saw the writing on the wall, and as our deal came to an end, we started looking for another scenario. That’s when we did Searching for Zero. Our managers in the UK got us a deal with BMG Chrysalis. That was our first time dealing with a major label properly as the label, which was a whole other experience.
What was that like?
It was more traditional in that we did get an advance. They were also a big publishing company, so there was a publishing advance, too. All that was something we felt we had worked toward. They gave us a better budget. We did our record with an American producer, Ross Robinson, and went to California for a month, which was amazing. The hard part for us was that after the album was released, a lot of the staff that we had been introduced to in the UK and German offices were gone. It seemed that there was a fast revolving door there. Over time, we didn’t know anyone there other than the CEO—and she was great—but the day-to-day people are the ones that make things tick for a label. The scenario changed. The new people weren’t hired to work with us directly, and maybe the enthusiasm wasn’t totally the same. It started feeling more distant. It wasn’t that anything bad happened as a result, it just felt like—when you’ve gone from being the second major release your first label has ever put out, and feeling like very much part of that family, and invested in the decision making about your band, to something that’s a massive corporation with world-wide offices—I can’t say anything bad about anyone who worked there, they were all great to us, but it felt less like a family than Distort.
Did you release your last album, The Spark That Moves, yourselves?
Entirely ourselves. That was a conscious decision we made as a band. We didn’t know where we were with BMG, but we thought that maybe in this day-and-age, with an established fan base, you don’t need a label to do everything. We saw many record labels outsourcing PR, distribution, promotion, marketing—well, we could do that ourselves. We know all those people, for the most part, and maybe we could make money from selling records for a change. Our record sales weren’t making us direct income. Our sales went to pay what we owed the record label. The way a lot of this works—and why bands always complain about it—is, essentially, record labels will reinvest. If a record does well, they’ll reinvest in more marketing. The expense bill builds up and you still always owe that. It makes sense, but if you expect to get rich selling records, you should start a record label. In our world, the money is coming from touring, publishing, selling merchandise—and for many bands when they start out, all the money is merchandise.
Was Bat Sabbath a kind of merch thing?
Bat Sabbath was funny. Our manager’s best friend and roommate was a big concert promoter in the UK, and they put on a festival called Sonisphere, which was in Knebworth. We were already playing it, and they had a band cancel. Because we had a close relationship with the promoter, he asked us if we could do a cover set—to play a set cover songs—and they’d pay us to do a second set on the same day. He said, “You’ll go on after Slipknot closes the main stage. You’ll be playing for all the people camping at the festival at 11:30 at night.” It wasn’t something we’d ever done before. As a joke I wrote back, “We’ll do an all-Sabbath set and call it Bat Sabbath.” It was just a joke, but he said, “We have to do this.” It was a fun thing that was supposed to be just for that festival. Nobody knew we were doing it, and we didn’t advertise it as Cancer Bats. They just posted, “Bat Sabbath plays at 11:30.” Somehow a rumor started that it was going to be Foo Fighters. We thought that was funny. Our drummer, Mike Peters, made the Foo Fighter’s FF logo on his kick drum with duct tape to mess with people. As we were setting up, the smoke machine guy asked, “Do you want smoke?” Normally for Cancer Bats, we hate it. But he said, “I have Sisters of Mercy’s smoke rig here. I can go crazy if you really want me to.” So we had to do that. It was really funny. We played the set and people loved it. We were surprised how well it went over. It was great. We played to a huge crowd and it was awesome. After we did that, we started getting offers, because the videos started going around on the internet. People started begged us to play their town, and that turned into promoters booking us. The first tour we did with that, we did five or six shows in Canada, and half were good and half were terrible, because people didn’t know we were doing it yet. Half the shows were people who go to see tribute bands. Eventually people in other towns caught on that we did it, and the next time we did a tour, the shows were sold out and packed.
Do you play a Bat Sabbath set with Cancer Bats, too?
We did a double headliner tour just before we released Searching for Zero, which was an hour of Cancer Bats and then an hour of Sabbath. These days, typically, when we do Bat Sabbath, we’ll do an encore of Cancer Bats songs. People want to hear that.
It must also be good money maker for the band.
For sure, because for the most part, we’re playing shows either the same size or almost as big as Cancer Bats. People really like it. They have fun. It is a different vibe because the songs aren’t as fast, though we speed some of them up. Our thing with Bat Sabbath is that we’re not a tribute band, we’re playing Sabbath songs in the style of Cancer Bats. It was something we fell into by chance that turned out to be fun. Touring and playing shows is how we make a large part of our money as a band, so being able to do that in between album cycles when we’ve exhausted playing to our Cancer Bats audience, is a different thing and it’s worked really well for us business-wise.
You’re producing now—with your background in engineering, why didn’t you engineer the Cancer Bats albums? Were you too raw?
For sure I was. From the get go, when Greg first came to see us, one of the guys he brought was this producer named Gavin Brown. Gavin produced tons of big Canadian bands like the Tragically Hip, Billy Talent, Metric, and Three Days Grace. He was the guy Greg hired to produce our first record. We were this raw, noisy, hardcore band in our eyes, and he was a guy who produced bands that we don’t really relate to, but thankfully we took Greg's advice and went with him. We met Gavin and he’s an awesome drummer and a music nerd, just like us. He grew up playing punk bands, and he understood a lot of what we were feeling and thinking. Gavin is the guy who taught us how to write songs. His big thing is songs. We did pre-production sessions, and he would improve our songs and help us rearrange them. He taught us how to add space, and tension and release, and a lot of things that as young guys, or having been in a very insular music scene, that we didn’t pay attention to. Like I said, my previous band would never repeat a riff in a song. That doesn’t relate to pop song structure or things like that. We were trying to rebel against that. But we all grew up listening to rock music on the radio, and that has all those important elements that make songs really memorable. Gavin showed us that we can still be fast and heavy and play the music we want to play, but can structure it in a way that people will want to listen to it again and again. People will get attached to it and feel emotion. He polished us in a way that I don’t know if many other people would have. The other awesome thing was he had a really great team behind him, Eric Ratz and Kenny Luong, who were his engineer and assistant engineer. We hired them to do our next three records as producers.
Why didn’t you use Gavin again?
It wasn’t to knock Gavin, but we had spent so much time in the studio with those guys. Gavin is more of a Rick Rubin-type in the sense that pre-production and songwriting are very key, but he produces from above. Eric and Kenny were in the thick of it every day. We bonded with them instantly. The three of them taught us so much. I became a much better guitar player and musician because of those guys. It made me realize that I didn’t know what I was doing. I had gone to recording school, and I learned quite a bit there, but I learned how it’s actually done through those guys. I owe so much of what I do as a producer to all three of them. I can't stress that enough. They showed me what professionalism in a studio is like, and the level you’re expected to play at to achieve the results and to get there.
I was still learning, but around Hail Destroyer—and especially after that—I convinced the band to buy a Pro Tools rig, and to mic-up our jam space to record and document ideas. I cut my teeth getting better at engineering and mixing working on my own band—and learning from people who were incredible at it. Continuing on, and working with Ross Robinson, he’s a totally different kind of producer. He’s very physical and emotional. He’s not about playing tight to a metronome. It’s about passion and intensity and capturing that. He showed me the complete opposite side of a professional studio spectrum. He doesn’t do things by the book, he does them how he feels them. I really love that and was super-inspired by him. It was just before that, in between our last few records, that I started recording some of my friend’s bands. When we did Searching for Zero, that’s when I got good enough that I felt comfortable enough to start charging bands to be able to work with me. I started with bands I knew, guys I was friends with. Hounds was the first band I recorded and produced. They got signed right away, too, to New Damage Records.
You have a great track record.
That was exciting [laughs]. What went really well with attracting customers, was when I realized that I can definitely help these people. I can show them what I’ve learned along the way, especially in terms of making better songs. The underrated part of recording and making records is hiring a producer. A lot of people don’t know what that is.
What do you bring to the table?
I make sure we do pre-production sessions—either online with Skype, or if you’re local, I am going to your jam space. You’re going to play your songs for me. I am going to go through them with you and show you how I think they can be improved.
Key, tempo, everything?
Everything. A lot times, I’ll start with structure and then move over to drums. I find drums are often an underdeveloped part in a lot of bands. A lot of drummers, unfortunately, don’t know how to use dynamics and use the different parts of their drum kits in ways that make songs more exciting and interesting. Maybe it’s because I am so guitar-brained, but I try to write drum riffs. I try to get drummers to come up with parts that you can almost sing like you can hum a riff. Also, lyrics are another thing I really focus on. It’s one thing to have a nice melody and a good arrangement, but the next step is getting somebody emotionally invested and attached to a song. If the singer is singing lyrics to me that he doesn’t really believe in or know the meaning of, why is somebody going to buy into them and think they’re honest about what they’re singing about?
Ross Robinson is really big on that.
Huge. That is something I really learned from him. When we worked with him, while we were recording the drums, he would have a discussion about what the songs were about. He would start with Liam. “What’s the song about?” “It’s kind of…" “Nope. Don’t give me anything vague. Tell me exactly what inspired this. Don’t hold anything back. Nobody holds anything back.” When I get in the studio and do pre-production, I care about these bands that I work with, and I care about what comes out. If I read a lyric sheet and it looks like a bunch of BS to me, I am going to call them on it. I have to. I am there and I am getting paid to give them my honesty and tell them where to improve. They might disagree with me, and that’s fine, but I usually I don’t take statements like that lightly. I don’t say it if I haven’t really thought it through. And most of the time, I’ll give them examples of why they’re letting their songs down by writing lyrics that don’t mean anything, and it’s obvious. I encourage people to be storytellers in their songwriting. If you can’t tell me the story, how is anybody else going to? The classic answer is, “I am leaving it up to the listeners interpretation.” But that’s a cop out.
Did you recently start offering other services, too?
Because of Cancer Bats, I am able to connect to a lot of bands internationally. Bands that are touring with us and supporting us, I talk with them about what they’re doing, and look for bands that I might want to work with. I’ve realized that a lot of them don’t know how to book tours to Canada and the States. Because I have experience doing it, I can give them advice, and now I’ve gone the next step and hooked up with a team of guys. What we can do, for the right band, is not only record an album for them, but also set up their first North American tour as well.
What’s that called?
Right now it’s called South Paw Booking. We’re finalizing this as a proper business right now. I was producing a band from China that I had met when Cancer Bats toured there, called Spill Your Guts. They’re a bunch of expats from Canada and Europe. They took us around China and showed us an amazing time. I really bonded with them, saw what a good band they are, and their story is really cool. They met because they like heavy music, live in China, and became a big part of the local music scene in Shanghai. I started talking to them about making a new record, told them about what I did, and they came to me interested in working with me. One of the things that we figured out was that since they were in Canada anyway, they should also play some shows. My partner at the recording studio, School House Studios, is Nick Ginn. He’s a drummer in a hardcore band called Hellbent, and it turned out that the bassist in Hellbent, Matt Bresee, was old friends with Spill Your Guts’ drummer, Tyler, from years ago when he lived in Canada. Matt, as a side business, uses the Hellbent van to drive international bands across Canada. Also, through the collective gear collection we have between Matt, myself, and the studio, we can rent out backline to the bands that need it. They’ve got transportation—and Matt can be their tour manager if they want—and Matt and I can help book the tour. We road-tested that with Spill Your Guts. The shame is that I was just about to do the same thing with a band from Switzerland, called Cardiac. We had booked a whole tour as their first Canadian tour, and then COVID-19 hit, so everything got canceled. It’s sad, but the nice thing is that we’ve realized that this is a service we can offer for the right bands.