Let's play Who Named the Band?

Our guest this week is Garbage - which is so obvious for this it's surprising it hasn't been done before. Well, it was back when Garbage was fresh 10 years ago, but Garbage has never been to Edmonton. Garbage plays Red's on Sunday night. Garbage is new to us - but it may be the last time we see Garbage.

More on this in a moment.

Usual disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, it's just a name. What's in a name? Once an absurdly handled band becomes known, it doesn't matter what the name is. Pink Floyd? Led Zeppelin? The Band?! Get real. Silly band names are nothing new. However, the methodology of choosing a name for a beast - a rock band - that by nature resists naming can reveal much about the people behind it. As it does with Garbage.

Drummer/producer Butch Vig suffered a recent death in the family and won't be performing in Edmonton (Matt Walker will fill in), but he had this to say in a recent phone interview: "When we were looking for a band name, we bought the dictionary of rock band names and they were all taken except for two, Hootie and the Blowfish and Garbage."

That's the bogus answer.

"The actual story came when I was working on an early version of Vow, on our first record, but it was sort of industrial noise pieces, abstract sound. It was really loud and trashy sounding. And this friend of mine walked into the studio and said, 'this s--- sounds like garbage.' I said, 'I'm going to turn this garbage into a song.' And he goes, 'It sounds like garbage!' And for some reason, I kept yelling back at him, 'I'm going to turn this garbage into a song!' and laughing while I was saying it and somehow a lightbulb went off in my head. Hmm, maybe that would be a good name for a band. We can't take ourselves too seriously if we call ourselves Garbage."

At least they didn't call themselves "S---."

Such self-deprecation has marked the band's whirlwind career ever since Garbage formed. Once Vig - who produced Nirvana's Nevermind, among other landmark grunge-era records - and partners Shirley Manson, Duke Erikson and Steve Marker wrapped their heads around Garbage, there was no turning back. They ignored record company pleas to change the name and in fact self-titled their debut in 1995. Garbage and the sequel, Version 2.0, each sold four million copies and Garbage was suddenly gold ... er, quadruple platinum, anyway.

Vig says that while the name turned out to be tempting bait for critics to trash with one-word reviews like "yup" and "indeed," there have been no regrets.

"We knew what were getting into," he says. "We also knew that there was a damn good chance that nobody else had taken it. We didn't have to worry about a copyright search or anything and as it turned out, nobody had taken it before. I'm sure nobody had taken the Butthole Surfers, either."

Have we gone on about the name enough? Have we learned anything about Garbage we didn't know before? Maybe.

To the present, it's a sad irony that Garbage may be about to be tossed out just as it has released what Vig calls the "most cohesive" and "personal" album yet, Bleed Like Me.

As for live, he says, "I think I some ways we're playing the best shows we've ever played, in part, I think, because we know this might be our last tour. We don't know if there's going to be another Garbage record. The last record was so hard. We're going to see how things feel after this tour."

Vig - who's had his share of woes, including exhaustion-induced bouts of hepatitis A and Bell's palsy, both of which are curable - actually quit the band during sessions for Bleed Like Me. They weren't communicating, couldn't agree on anything and were all "miserable," Vig says. Not being able to afford a $40,000-per month rock band marriage counsellor like Metallica (whose Some Kind of Monster video was a watershed moment in rock band marriage counselling), they had to muddle through it themselves. Vig spent a month just "vegging." A chance meeting with a pair of young Garbage fans at the mall got the producer talking about the new music again. He called his bandmates the next day. They resumed recording shortly thereafter.

Coming back to a band after quitting it doesn't exactly foster a relaxed atmosphere, he adds, but "we realized that the band was still important to us." Getting old pal Dave Grohl in to play drums on Bad Boyfriend got the creative juices flowing again.

Vig says, "He brought in a great energy and great vibe that had been lacking from our sessions. After he came, a lot of new songs came out and we just felt inspired again."

It's apparent Vig wants to be a full-time producer again - he talks excitedly about a couple of different projects he's working on and admits that he'd rather be inside the control room than in the studio space - but there is little talk of the future within the band.

"The future is up in the air," he says. "We're all trying to enjoy the moment and play good shows. Like I said, it could be our last tour. We want to try to stay in the moment."