Posted by Michael D. Ayers at 8:00 AM, April 29, 2008
Jolie Holland plays Union Pool this Wednesday, April 30th.
"The thing is, you’re not supposed to feed bears people-food, because then they’ll turn into garbage bears, and get shot."
We, and by we I mean New York, should feel lucky. Yeah, we got that Thriller re-enactment thingy last week, and sometimes the pizza is okay, but late last year our fair city stole the Texas-born belter Jolie Holland away from San Francisco permanently.
For years now, Holland has won favor with the likes of critics and Tom Waits, who nominated her for a Shortlist Music Prize. Similar to her own heroes (like, say, Daniel Johnston), she's been relegated to a small, devoted following. Maybe it’s because she’s not one for being trendy—her music has a certain timelessness to it, melding the best in vocal jazz, blues, and country traditions, her voice masterfully sliding between sultry and sweet, despairing and lonely. In a weird way, Holland's music might best be enjoyed five or ten years down the road—were you to revisit her work in a decade, I'd guess it'd be extremely difficult to place it in a time period.
We met in Williamsburg, at a place called Gimme Coffee, but that joint was way too packed on a Tuesday mid-day, so we went to a stoop and just sat there, chattin' and watching the traffic go by us. In person, there’s much more of a southern drawl to her voice than on record. She's quite charming and unpretentious, as well as gracious enough to not say “You’re an idiot” when I didn’t know what a Turkish Bath was or when I asked her to describe her own voice. She’s here working on a new record due this fall; I suggested two titles at the end of this interview: Feeding People Food To Bears and Really Famous In Canada. Alas, she’s already decided on The Living & The Dead.
VV: Springtime Can Kill You was my number two favorite album of that year. . . 2006.
JH: Oh wow. What was your favorite record?
I can’t remember.
JH: [laughs]. I think my two favorite records around that time, [one] was a record that no one has ever heard of called The Inferno—it was true stories based on Dante’s Inferno, true stories based on his life. And Freakwater’s Thinking Of You.
So you’re living here full time now? What prompted this change?
JH: I don’t know . . . I was just feeling shy or something; it was time to go somewhere. I was really considering going to Portland [Oregon], where I have a great pack of friends, but I ended up coming here.
Do you know a lot of people here?
JH: Yeah, I feel really lucky.
So you’re working here, on new material?
JH: Mmmhmm.
Who are you working with?
JH: You know Rachel Blumberg? She’s the drummer that has played with M. Ward and Conor Oberst some times. She plays on this record; she’s amazing. M. Ward plays on guitar, and he’s just ungodly at guitar.
He is a good guitar player. I’m not sure if people recognize his guitar playing as his best thing, but I’m not really sure what people recognize is his best thing.
JH: Right, he’s got an awesome voice.
Is he singing with you?
JH: No, just guitars.
So who else?


JH: Do you know Shahzad Ismaily? He’s on it, a New York guy—he’s this unreal bass player, a guitar player, and a drummer. He might be my favorite guitar player and drummer that I’ve worked with. He’s co-producing. M. Ward kinda co-produced the first part of the record, but he didn’t think I needed a producer, but I disagreed with him. But it was very nice of him to say.
What was reasoning behind that?


JH: He said it was like feeding bears people-food. [Laughing]
I don’t understand that.
JH: Okay, so have you ever lived around bears?
No. Well, I might have, but I didn’t know it.
JH: Good. The thing is, you’re not supposed to feed bears people-food, because then they’ll turn into garbage bears, and get shot.
Oh, okay. That’s right. The whole Yogi Bear sort of thing. Did you ever watch that cartoon?
JH: No.
That was the whole thing.

JH: He was a garbage bear? [Laughs] Yeah, I cracked up when he said that to me. I started writing it down, and had my journal open. Colin Stinson played on it a bit. Do you know who he is?
The name sounds familiar.
JH: Isn’t it that a fucking awesome name?
It’s not bad.
JH: [laughs]. So yeah, Colin plays horns on a couple of songs.
That’s one of the things that I was going to ask; the last record had such a brass / horn thing going on. It made it more weird, or interesting for me.
JH: I know so many great horn players, I feel really lucky. And Marc Ribot plays on this one too. I’m going to have a Turkish Bath with him on Thursday.
What is a Turkish Bath?
JH: You know, its like going to the steam rooms. So that will be fun.
Does he contribute vocals on this?


JH: No just guitars. But I do want to sing with him at some point.
Do you sing with anyone on this?
JH: I sing with myself, which is kind of a new thing for me. Carla Bozulich sang a bit with me, and she’s a good shot in the arm.
So would you say the record is bigger than the last time, or is it still sparse in a way?
JH: Quiet? Yeah, I think this is really different, because this is years after I fell in love with Daniel Johnston, and I really think Daniel has really brought me back to rock and roll the way that no one else has.
Really, him?
JH: Yeah, him. Because he’s so pure.
Did you see his movie?
JH: Yeah, I did. I thought it was kind of sad. . . if I had seen that movie before I knew about his music, then I would have had a hard time understanding his music—because there wasn’t any good music; just a few little snippets. I thought of it as him as a presentation as a caricature, then one of America’s greatest songwriters period.
I guess I can see that whole caricature part, when they were talking about the whole MTV thing. So anyways, you were saying . . .
JH: Oh yeah. Actually, it’s funny. There are a lot of lyrical nods. There’s a line that quotes “Cold Hard World.” There's lots of other tiny quotes of my favorite songwriters on this record. If you’re a Freakwater fan, then you know that there is a ridiculous amount of weird motifs. I have a line there where I reference the velvet tongue which they talk about. And there is another line where I say “Let love in,” which is a nod to Nick Cave . . .
Did you have a lot of competition around San Francisco? I mean, like around here, I think it would hard to get noticed.
JH: I don’t know. I don’t listen to anyone that I think sounds like me. But there are a lot of songwriters that I admire; I don’t think of it as competition. If I’m competing with anybody, I’m competing with…[pauses]
I was going to say something weird like “If I’m competing with anybody, it’s the TV.” Because in a way, I do think if you’re trying to get someone’s attention, that is what you are competing with—but someone’s attention that isn’t being moved by music.
Did you ever have any classical or formal training?
JH: No, I never had any formal training.
Self-taught?
JH: I was in orchestra when I was in thirteen. But my teacher was deaf, and she didn’t ever notice that I was never learning how to read, and just playing by ear. Which I guess is good training in a way. Which I liked it. But I was first viola. I couldn’t read but I was first viola.
How does that work, having a deaf teacher, teaching music?
JH: I don’t know. I mean I’m glad she had a job. She didn’t start out deaf, she was just getting old.
One of the thing I’ve been wondering, is how you would describe your voice? One of the things that you’re good at is controlling it, in ways that I don’t hear very often. It seems like you’re really good at controlling the pitch subtly. But maybe that’s me overthinking it, and you not even considering it.
JH: I mean one of my earliest influences was Blind Willie MacTell. He has so much passion and humor in his voice. Well, first of all, I don’t describe my voice—you know what I mean? I just don’t.
Do people ask you to describe your voice, like I just did?
JH: No, not that I can remember. But I think about phrasing a lot—that’s what I’m concerned with. Phrasing has to do with timing, force of tone, and what kind of breathe you are using. The way that the notes are presented in sound.
So, that would make me think, is that a challenging thing?
JH: I don’t know, but it’s just what I love about music. For me, my tiny, tiny differences in phrasing changes the meaning of something. I mean, that’s what I love about any musician I love—these tiny little ways they do things. For me, that’s totally where it’s at. If somebody is phrasing is fucked up, I can’t listen to it. If they have a bullshit relation to the beat, I’m not interested in it, I’m not drawn to it. And if they have a fascinating connection in their phrasing, it’s so magnetically attractive. And to me, that’s Thelonious Monk, that’s Marc Ribot, that’s all the great singers. And that’s it for me.
Jolie Holland plays Union Pool on Wednesday, April 30th.
Posted by Michael D. Ayers at 10:15 AM, April 1, 2008
Human Giant will appear tonight Tuesday, April 1st at the Paley Center For Media at 6pm for a measly $10.00.
Rob Huebel and Aziz Ansari: The ones with hair.
"One time, we were doing a festival, and we were supposed to open up for Peter, Bjorn and John. And Peter Bjorn and John got really mad at us. And they beat up Paul [Scheer], and then they raped him—in their tour bus."
This whole comedy mixing with music scenes is pretty new to me. You used to have your two-drink-minimum comedy clubs and Lollapalooza '92, which had Ministry. And Ministry; well, they’re no laughing matter. If memory serves me correctly, LP92 was the first time I saw a young girl with black eyeliner spit on someone, then laugh about it—clearly not “comedy” as we've come to think of it. The point is they were separate worlds.
In the Eugene Mirman-era, the funny ha-ha thing is regular on music bills, with sketch comedy troupe Human Giant—Aziz Ansari, Rob Huebel and Paul Scheer—having had success working music angles into their repertoire, most notably with last May’s 24-Hour MTV Marathon.
I sat down with Aziz and Rob earlier this month in Austin, where they were largely unimpressed with my 'revelation' that music and comedy are mixing so well. They were also largely unimpressed with my Lollapalooza recollection, but I didn’t mention anything about goth-girl spitting, so maybe it’s my fault. Presentation is everything.
I’ve been really interested in your careers over the last few years.
Rob Huebel: Are you being sarcastic?
No. This music crossover you’re having success with is very interesting; when I was in high school, and went to festivals, there would be no comedic acts.
Aziz Ansari: Well, I think Rob and I can both agree, for the past couple years there’s a huge crossover in comedy and bluegrass music.
Rob: That’s all we care about. Merging bluegrass with hilarious comedy.
Aziz: So many people who listen to bluegrass, like our comedy.
It makes sense.
Aziz: No, all these festivals—South by Southwest, Bonnaroo, Pitchfork, it’s so fun for us to go do comedy there, because there’s a lot of people that are into comedy, that are listening to indie rock music, or whatever.
Rob: Well, I don’t think that’s new . . .I mean I think that it’s new, that they figured it out.
Aziz: Yeah.
Rob: Of course, that makes sense. It’s like these are young, smart, hip people that like this band . . .might they also like smart comedy?
Aziz: It's good, and a little break from seeing music. Maybe you know us from Human Giant, but you don’t know any of the other comedians. It’s easier to get into comedy that you’re not familiar with, more so than music even. A comedian will start making you laugh, and you’re immediately like, “I like this guy, a lot. Already I’ve seen him for two minutes, and I know I like this guy.” That’s how we kind of came up too; I’d do a show with someone like David Cross, and it would be a great way for me to be introduced to people.
Rob: There is a bit of a . . . comedy definitely has its place at a music festival.
What is that place?
Aziz: A separate place. “This is a comedy thing, you want to see that, go see that.” What’s hard is, when it’s “Here’s a couple of bands, and before we bring on the headliner, here’s this guy, who a lot of you probably don’t even know who he is, he’s going to come and waste your time.”
Rob: Last year, here at this Fader Fort, we were hosting this party. And they were like basically you guys are going to introduce bands, and be funny, and come out and be funny some more.
Was that in the contract: “Be funny”?
Rob: Yeah [laughs]. So we went out, and for some reason they had given the audience a bunch of ping pong balls—here, where we are right now—they started pelting us with ping-pong balls. We were like “what are we doing?” Just have us do comedy, at a place where they are expecting comedy. It should be a little bit segregated.
Aziz: We’re pro-segregation, as far as comedy and music.
Rob: An hour ago, we were supposed to introduce this band, and they were doing their soundcheck right up until their set was about to start.
Aziz: Yeah, at that Pitchfork thing.
Rob: So, we were like “Do you want us to this bit? It’s like five minutes, and it’s really funny.” And they were like, “Well, its going to eat into our set.”
Aziz: And we were like “we don’t want to eat into you set time, when there are industry people here to see you. Of course we’re not going to come and do our dumb thing with a T-shirt gun.
Which I saw today. Which was pretty funny.
Aziz: We just fired them; you got see us do the bit!
Rob: We actually do a bit where we shoot out a bunch of T-shirts, then we end up putting pantyhose over our heads and end up robbing the audience of their T-shirts, and then we turn on each other and kill each other with T-shirts.
Aziz: It becomes a really dumb bank robbery situation. It’s like Point Break meets T-Shirt guns.
Those things flew.
Aziz: Oh, man, so hard. But you can’t wedge that in right before some band everyone is wanting to see goes on. One time, we were doing a festival, and we were supposed to open up for Peter, Bjorn and John. And Peter Bjorn and John got really mad at us. And they beat up Paul, and then they raped him, in their tour bus.
Rob: Which I always felt was excessive.
Aziz: And they whistled “Young Folks” the whole time, while they were raping him.
[Rob whistles “Young Folks”]
Aziz: I was like, that’s not cool.
It’s not.
Rob: As Paul was being raped!
Aziz: By Peter, Bjorn and John. Those guys, oh my god, they’re brutal.
Did you guys see your profile really raise after the MTV Human Giant 24 Hour thing, where you had bands integrated; it was a lot of good press after, as a “return to form.”
Rob: What it is really, is two separate worlds; it’s the people who watch MTV, and then there’s the people….
Aziz: Who probably hate MTV.
Rob: Yeah, that hate MTV, but watch our show. So it's two types of people; people who normally watch MTV, probably don’t get our show. We don't write stuff for that demographic, whatever that is. We just don’t try to appeal to them. We just try to write stuff that’s funny, what college kids would think is funny, that sort of…
Aziz: It would be impossible for us to cater to their audience.
Rob: It’s really mainstream. Gone are the days where they do a lot of cool stuff; they’ve just had so much success with really broad reality shows; more power to them.
Aziz: It’s like “Here’s a kid in high school. He’s going to prom. Let’s put that on TV.” We can’t do that; we just don’t know how to film a kids’ high school prom. And then edit into a television show.
Rob: For them to do this weird comedy show, it’s like…
Aziz: To MTV’s credit, it’s like them saying “It might not be fitting their corporate culture at our channel right now, but we think it's good, and we’re putting it on.” To their credit, they let us do whatever we want, and the creative freedom we have is a lot.
Rob: They literally have let us do whatever we want, which is crazy, because the show does not blend in with the channel at all.
Aziz: The deal we made with them was basically like: “Okay, you guys can have complete creative control here, as long as you film this season of Life of Ryan.” And we were like, “Okay, we’ll film this kid skateboarding.”
Rob: And I don’t even like skateboarding. You know, this kid goes to high school, he goes to his prom, and we’re there with him, 24 – 7.
Aziz: Filming it. It was easy. Rob actually hooked up with a girl at his prom . .
Rob: And I’m way too old to be hooking up with a high school girl. . . but I did, because I needed work.
Aziz: And now she watches Human Giant.
That’s good that they give you that freedom. Honestly, nothing ever good is written about [MTV], besides what you did…
Aziz: We think they may like hate us for that reason. . . they’re like let's not give press to those guys, because it's always like “They’re awesome. . .but!”
Rob: People will write, “I love your show, but I hate that channel. But I love your show.” To their credit, as we said, they’re smart enough to know that there are different audiences out there and not everything has to be straight up the middle. They can do stuff that appeals to the audience that they used to get; the audience that used to watch The State and Beavis and Butthead. Cool, weirder stuff. They know that those kids still exist out there; they’ve also figured out that more of those kids, like dumb stuff.
I was thinking earlier today…
Aziz: [Occupied] Sorry, my girlfriend is asking me where. . .
Rob: Let the record show that Aziz is texting his girlfriend to. . .
Aziz: I was sending her a PIN, if you really want to have it on the record. . .
Rob: He’s sending her a PIN for his ATM card, so she can get out money, to buy heroin.
It seems kind of randomly, that your tastes in music have helped your careers in ways.
Aziz: I think anytime someone has something in common with a performer, that makes you a little bit more likely to be into them. Take a look at Brian Posehn—he has a huge metal fanbase, cause he’s clearly a guy who loves heavy-metal music, and talks about it in his act. So those guys are going to be into that, there’s nothing wrong with that.
What’s the scene like at Bonnaroo? I’ve never been, but the YouTube clips I’ve seen of David Cross, he’ll just roll out there and start to rip on hippies. . . and it’s funny to me.
Aziz: Yeah, everyone goes there and shits on hippies.
Rob: It’s in the woods, in Tennessee, on this farm, and it’s a million degrees. But they do have good bands there; Radiohead’s been there.
Aziz: It’s like two festivals going on: there’s the indie rock kids and the hippie kids. I think at Bonnaroo, they have a separate comedy tent. So they’re at least coming there…
Rob: They’re there to see comedy, but also it’s the only air-conditioned place.
Aziz: At the same time, the lines now are so long for the comedy tent. You really have to want to see it bad . . .
Are these things are good gigs—are they financially rewarding in your worlds?
Aziz: Yeah, I think so. Being able to come out to South by Southwest or Bonnaroo, you can’t ask for a better deal than that. See all these bands, they treat you well, we never take it seriously. Like when we go to the artist thing, we never think we’re artists.
Rob: We’re the last people to be like “What the fuck man, where’s my VIP pass?” The truth of the matter is, most people don’t know who we are.
Human Giant will appear tonight Tuesday, April 1st at the Paley Center For Media at 6pm for a measly $10.00.
John Darnielle has been branching out lately. He's avoiding concept albums. He's wrangled producer / songwriter John Vanderslice to help him in the studio. And in one of the weirdest collabs of 2007, he lent his voice to Aesop Rock's None Shall Pass.
Over the last two decades, Darnielle’s band the Mountain Goats has not only garnered endless critical acclaim, but his rather confessional outpourings have inspired its own amount of fessing up, even in this very space. But now the always-literary, consistently prolific John Darnielle returns with his sixteenth release Heretic Pride on February 19th. Darnielle’s distinctly nasal voice is ever present as usual, but there’s almost an upbeat, optimistic feel this time around, even when he’s picking his guitar amidst a soft cello on “San Bernadino.” After exercising those personal demons during We Shall Be Healed, The Sunset Tree and Get Lonely, the obvious choice for subject matter this time around would most definitely be swamp creatures, Michael Myers, and religious oxymoronism.
Let's get down to business.
I noticed that parts of Heretic Pride were recorded in Fairbanks. How'd you end up there? I'm picturing some sort of log-cabin studio. What type of set up was it?
I only wrote some songs in Fairbanks ("In the Craters on the Moon" and "Autoclave"). The whole album was recorded at Prairie Sun in Cotati, California, where both Testament and Tom Waits have recorded. It would be awesome to record in Fairbanks in February though—you would get mighty focused!
I've always noticed and appreciated your frequent choice in rounding up Erik Friedlander to help your last few records. How did you first recognize his work, and develop a relationship with him? And in terms of his musical parts, how are they written? Are you writing them for him, or is it a collaborative effort?
I found out about Erik when Brassland released Maldoror, his improvisations based on Lautreamont. Brassland asked if he could open a show for us in Manhattan, and he did, and I was just blown away by how great he was, and also how cool he seemed in the dressing room—just enjoyed visiting with him. John Vanderslice was on that tour, too, and we knew we'd be making a record together, and I was all, "JV, we should get this guy on the next record, right?" and JV was like "Yes. Yes. Lock it down." And so we set it up.
I don't write parts for people—I think people do their best creative work when you give them all the freedom you can stand to give. So, I tell Erik "Here's the song," and sometimes he'll ask what I'm looking for and I'll say "something staccato and nervous" or "some counterpoint to the vocal melody," but that's as far as my input goes—I like to be surprised by what he comes up with. I'm not a micromanaging kind of collaborator, I'd rather play with people for the most part.
Another inquiry along those same lines: I really enjoyed St Vincent's / Annie Clark's Marry Me record last year; did you write parts with her specifically in mind?
No, we just brought her in because we liked the way she played guitar—again, it's like, "You're such an awesome musician, please put some of your juju powder on my record." I think it was my idea for her to play a descending scale on "Sax Rohmer #1" though, I'll take credit for that!
Your last effort, Get Lonely is a solemn record. But with Heretic Pride’s tendency to have more instrumentation on each song, it feels like a “bigger” album. Were you gunning for a "larger" sound this time around?
Get Lonely sort of willed itself into being—we knew when we went in that the songs were kind of quiet, but we didn't know just how far in that direction they wanted to head. But as the session went on everybody got this feeling that there was something distinct going on and we should just get out of the way and let the record go where it wanted to go. In a sense, Heretic Pride is the same way—I wrote the songs, and we practiced them some, and by the time we were done with the first day's tracking, it was clear that the record was leaning toward a sort of high-spirits-on-fire sort of thing. Once you catch that feeling, yeah, you think maybe some "bigger" arrangements are going to be best. But really a lot of the credit for the bigness is on Jon Wurster, whose drums are so great, and on Scott Solter, who really knows how to record a big drum sound.
One of the oddest songs on Heretic Pride (to me) is "Lovecraft in Brooklyn." [It's a rock song that seems straight-forward until the three-minute mark, wherein we find Darnielle's protagonist buying switchblades, and seemingly fired up about it.] Can you talk about that one a bit?
Yeah, weird evolution on that song. I got the idea for it on an airplane going to Stockholm. I was listening to Eddy Grant's Greatest Hits, and I got the idea to call a song "Eddy Grant T-shirt." That was all there was, the song title. I sort of had this image of somebody wearing an ancient faded T-shirt not for fashion reasons but just to have something to wear—maybe the guy wearing it doesn't even know who Eddy Grant is. So that was the whole idea until I was in my hotel room in Stockholm and couldn't sleep, so I got out my notebook and went to work on the song. Only "Eddy Grant" is hard to say at that tempo, so I changed the Eddy Grant T-shirt to a Marcus Allen jersey. I'm a Raiders fan and Raiders fans have this sort of outlaw image they like to cultivate so that changed the vibe a lot—now I'm thinking about outsiders, people who place themselves apart from others, loners. But not lonely people: just solitary people, maybe. So I thought about how when you've placed yourself outside of everything else, then everything else starts to look distorted or monstrous. And that's what the song's about: aggravated alienation and how it makes the world seem weird and threatening.
Your following is very dedicated, to say the least. My old roommate used to tell me how much she adored you, while simultaneously threatening me with torture/mental anguish if I too didn't become wise to your talents. Knowing such adoration, is there any added pressure when you sit down to write new records?
I wouldn't call it "pressure," no—if you take that angle you wind up writing the same records over and over. I feel, like, really stoked about the way people get super-into my songs; "honor" is kind of a flat word, it's more like: cool! Way, way cool! People are doing with my songs what I do with the songs of the artists I love: really getting inside their skins! So it's not pressure, really it's inspirational. It drives me to write songs people might want to wear on their bodies, if that makes sense.
You're rather prolific in terms of your output, but your work is also consistently substantial. Do you ever get writers block?
I go through times when I don't write much, but I think "writers block" is a self-fulfilling prophecy. I don't believe in it. I think the times when you're "blocked" are transitional times when your inspiration is sort of trying to re-direct you toward the place where you'll eventually end up. Thinking of this state as a "block" is really counterproductive, pernicious even: you're not "blocked," you're on a detour, and maybe the sights aren't as pretty, but they're still really valuable. That's my take, anyway. I mean, if you couldn't actually move your hands to make the pen go across the page, that's a legitimate block. Otherwise, sit down and work!
The Mountain Goats bring their own juju powder to Webster Hall on March 18th and The Music Hall Of Williamsburg on March 19th.
Posted by Michael D. Ayers at 2:00 PM, January 22, 2008
Laura Marling: like watching a young woman bare her soul for her cat
Live: Laura Marling + Lucinda Black Bear
Union Hall
Friday January 18
Last week, Laura Marling played four shows. As far as young, possibly sappy, possibly brilliant, singer-songwriters go, the 17-year-old from Reading, UK is possibly one of the best to come through these parts in a long time. She’s awkward, like your little sister was when she was going through puberty. You look at her, and think she’s still so innocent, still so naïve, sitting there in her red Mickey Mouse sweatshirt with stringy blonde hair pulled back. She could be studying Spanish because there’s a big test tomorrow. Or bitching about her parents’ lame rules.
Alas, it’s none of that. Well, it’s a lot of those thoughts running through my head, because her youthful looks probably remind me of my own fleeting youth, as well as the rest of the NPR contributors in the audience. But Marling manages to lure you in because she never focuses on you, or anyone in the audience. She just stares downward at the floor, looking a bit cross-eyed, as she strums—while her male partner, a nice enough seeming lad, plays along, adding some soft drum rhythms and backing guitars.
Her voice sounds like Beth Orton’s—if that’s your thing, you’d love Marling. Her songs are sparse and simplistic the way Orton’s early material was, but Marling’s a bit darker. Her tune “Night Terror” describes protecting her boyfriend from those who are haunting her lover; so much so, she’s willing to put up a fight. Yet she feels a bit more disturbed in a Nick Drake way; a bit more soul-baring than I recall Orton’s Trailer Park-era ever being. She took a few crowd jabs in stride when she mentioned she’d be “checking out Williamsburg” the following day, which provided a rare smile and acknowledgment that there were people watching her. But mostly watching Marling feels like you’re spying on some young woman who's baring her soul for her cat.
Headlining the evening was Lucinda Black Bear, a rock-noir outfit headed by C.Gibbs (a/k/a Christian Gibbs). Gibbs is neither awkward, nor young; in fact, he’s extremely confident in commanding this five piece he’s recently assembled, who're bolstered by a cello and a violin. Gibbs has been around the game awhile; he flirted with a major label release in 1999, and has subsequently released two records this decade. He’s received accolades over the years from high end places such as the New York Times and NPR, but seemingly has failed to catch on with those most likely be his fans—those who appreciate Okkervil River or Magnolia Electric Company / Songs: Ohia.
Unlike Marling, Lucinda Black Bear sing songs about fighting bears. Well, just one song, really, involves a throwdown: “Fought The Bear” is a large sounding rocker, a full-on assault of Gibbs crowing and crescendo’ing about a quick brush with death, something that fits his band's morose vibe. He passionately convinces us that this bear fight (with his bare hands) really happened, something that as we get older, we don’t even consider possible. There was a time, decades ago, that fighting bears seemed like a real possibility as did playing professional sports. Another one of the staples in Lucinda Black Bear’s catalog is “Kites,” a slow, twangy ballad that highlights Gibb’s abstract storytelling. It’s not a carefree kite flying song (although flying kites, is in fact, referenced) but instead comes off a bit bitter, a bit jaded, and dejected, as Gibbs describes coming to terms with losing a friend. Gibbs himself puts this into his performances, a downsized version of himself that the jaded and the heartbroken can appreciate—those with imagination, yet who were never rewarded for that quality.
Lucinda Black Bear might be just getting off the ground, and Gibbs has assembled a talented backing band. But his song arrangements (like on the album) would even lend themselves to a larger ensemble, maybe a piano here and there, and a banjo or mandolin would even sound appropriate—but for Union Hall’s tiny stage, a five piece was enough for the moment.
On your knees, you big booty bitch, start sucking. Ween fans love this line.
They love a lot of lines that they’ll shout out as often as Dean and Gene will sing em, but this one in particular seems to summarize what a Ween concert is about. Not a Ween album; as Rob describes here, Ween albums are complicated, ripe with parody at times, but sweet and sentimental at others. Oxymoronic, both in lyric and genre forms, but still something of value to the artists. But maybe one of the key elements within a Ween album for me is that I’ve tended to listen to them when alone.
So when you see a guy holding his girlfriend during “Piss Up A Rope,” a smile on his face as he repeats the aforementioned line, there is something utterly confusing, or sad, or possibly scary about this. Ween is wholeheartedly a dude’s band and they, Ween, knows this. And somehow, their shows transform into spaces unlike any other in rock: one’s filled with mostly sophomoric excuses to revert back to seventh grade locker room behavior. Jokes about poo become relevant and fresh; dissing and degrading chicks behind their backs is more than acceptable, and jubilantly shouting “AIDS!”— which are only one of two lyrics in “The HIV Song”—is not by all means weird. (The other lyric being “HIV” if you haven’t heard this.)
So I’m standing there, wondering, is this a bad thing? People are having a great time; they’re invested in spending their Friday night with 3500 other people, all forgetting about whatever it is they have going on in real life. I guess I can see that it’s okay to let one’s hair down every now and then and “act your shoe size and not your age” (I’m quoting my seventh grade gym teacher here). I mean after all, “Waving My Dick In The Wind” isn’t meant to be a plead for action; it’s a love song about missing someone.
So to get down to the music, Ween was touring to support their recent La Cucaracha, but to my disappointment, they only played three songs off it. The swanky, sleazy “Your Party,” in which Gene Ween sung as elegantly as possible; he swayed his hips back and forth at time, while trying to conceal a grin that suggested this cheese was pretty funny to him. The instrumental “Fiesta” showed up in the encore, and the other song that made it in was the bizarre, and downright creepy “Object.” Had the crowd sung the lyrics to this one in unison, of which Gene describes
you as being a "piece of meat," who presumably is killed and discarded, except for your sweater that "they found," I would have been full on scared. But they didn’t. I guess there are lines you don’t cross; either that, or the song is just too new in the Ween catalog.
Older tunes such as “Reggaejunkiejew,” the heavy guitar thrashing of “You Fucked Up,” and the jammed out, proggy “I’ll Be Your Johnny On The Spot” were well received (by me) but I preferred the slower, sometimes spacey ballads that if you’re a Ween veteran, you’re probably sick of hearing by now. No one cared too much about the distorted “Zoloft." And “Baby Bitch” was as tender as they claim they can be, despite another crowd pleasing shout together line towards the end that goes, “Fuck you, you stinkin’ ass ho.” I like to think that I’ve made amends with the baby bitches of my past, so yet again, if you’re not expecting it, it’s weird to hear people shout this all at once.
At this point, it’s probably even silly to overanalyze a Ween show. I came to realize, they’re not a band for the casual fan like me. I’ve listened to the albums enough to recognize most songs, and enjoy most songs, but in concert it feels like too much of an inside joke for me to identify with. That's fine. After all, this is a band with a song called “Poop Ship Destroyer.”
There’s no shortage of love for The Big Sleep around these parts; so when their second full length arrived in ye ol’ postbox, I jumped on the opportunity to get some more information on the surreptitiously titled Sleep Forever, due February 19, 2008 on Frenchkiss.
Oh, you don’t know much about them? They’re a three piece consisting of husband/wife team Danny Barria on guitar / vocals and Sonya Balchandani on bass / vocals, and new father, longtime Redskins fan Gabe Rhodes on drums. They’ve garnered a favorable following over the last few years, mainly due to a blistering, ear-splitting live show that teeter-totters between fast, hard-hitting guitar heavy instrumentals and swirling psychedelic-post rock. Post-post rock, if there is such a thing.
Sleep Forever, while still delivering more of the swirling, sprawling psychedelic goodness from before, shows a bit of their softer-side. Tender, and at times delicate. But they haven't gone all James Bluntified; there’s still enough hard-hitting jams to blow your socks off.
Full e-mail transcript below. . .
First, lets get down to the nitty-gritty: where was Sleep Forever recorded?
Danny: We recorded the basic tracks at this amazing studio called Shorefire in Long Branch, New Jersey. It has this great live room and the amps of my dreams all in one spot. It's not that far away, but it was just the right amount of distance from the city. It let us focus on getting things done, and this record is about nothing but taking care of business. Then we came back to Brooklyn and recorded all the overdubs and mixed at Stay Gold. The whole recording process took about a month and a half, which was lightning fast compared to Son of the Tiger.
Did you work with anyone?
Danny: We co-produced the record with Chris Coady, who's worked with TV on the Radio, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Blonde Redhead, Celebration, etc. He was the voice of reason and experience to all our amateur hour ideas, and he provided a lot of ideas of his own whenever we were trying to get somewhere and weren't quite sure how to get there.
Was there anything that the group wanted to do differently (in terms of recording) than what was done with Son of the Tiger?
Danny: We definitely wanted to do things quickly this time, to capture a sense of urgency and intensity, but not in quite the same "reckless abandon" way as the first record.
We did a lot of preparation for this record so we could make the most of our time in the studio, and knew going in that it was going to be a tighter, more focused affair.
Sonya: We wanted to capture some sense of the live sound, and to be a little less precious about things - to try to keep in mind the point of each song and focus on that coming across.
Gabe: Also, there's a depth of emotion in this album that was missing from the first one, so I'm glad that we found it and were able to capture it in the studio.
There seems to be some slower tunes this time around - near ballads that I don't recall existing on Tiger. Did you guys want to slow things down a bit. . . or at least dabble in more quiet arrangements? Slow might be a bad word choice.
Danny: Personally, I want every record to feel like we've grown or developed in some way, but it's not really a conscious choice to have quieter songs.
Sonya: There were a couple of slower/mellower ones on Son of the Tiger, and that is definitely a side of us that's there. It often doesn't come across live, mainly because of the songs we choose to play. We weren't trying to slow things down or soften things - it's more that's a part of what we do as much as anything else. We can be tender. In terms of the feelings those songs evoke, they are consistent with the rest of the material to me, just maybe executed differently.
Gabe: I don't think we have an agenda to slow things down; it's just where the mood of the band took us, I guess.
Sonya, your vocals seem to have a much more immediate presence, than the last one- maybe just because we hear you first. Was there a decision to get your voice into the record earlier this time?
Sonya: Not really. Danny and I each did a few sequences, and we ended up with similar ideas for it. So the order just felt right. We didn't really think about it in terms of vocals/no vocals, or Sonya singing/Danny singing. It was more about the feelings of the songs going into each other. But since I sing first, I guess I win.
Yes, you do win. And is that a drum machine I hear on “Chorus of Guitars?”
Danny: When Sonya and I first started playing music together, it was mainly a guitar and keyboard affair, and we went out and got the most basic, K-Mart style Yamaha keyboard. "Chorus of Guitars" was supposed to be me on piano, everyone else we could get on guitars, and I wanted a drum machine that sounded like a heartbeat. It ended up only having two guitars on it, but the title stayed. Anyway, I borrowed a few drum machines and tried a bunch of different things out, but it turned out that the drum sounds on this Yamaha just fit perfectly.
That said, how are Big Sleep songs constructed these days?
Sonya: Most songs started with Danny bringing in an idea, and then all of us building on those, arranging things together.
Danny: It gets put to the Sonya and Gabe test. We can usually tell right away if it's something we want to turn into a song, and I do a lot of self-editing, so I don't really come in with anything that is too outrageous for us. Then we go through a few different arrangements. While we're doing that, we also hammer out parts to add on top of that main basic idea. We demoed all the songs on the record before we actually went into the studio, which was really valuable in helping us figure out what worked.
And lastly, to get a bit sentimental on you: what are you all most proud of with Sleep Forever?
Danny: I'm really proud of the fact that we went in with pretty clear ideas for what we wanted, but were still open to spontaneity and input from our producer. It was a different experience for us because we did everything so quickly, so there wasn't a lot of time to deliberate, and it felt good to just pick an idea and know you were committing to it. I also cut out a lot of feedback guitars, which was my usual way of filling in the spaces. It was something new and good to let the spaces stay. The whole record just generally feels more adventurous and like it strayed from our "safety" areas.
Sonya: This record takes some listens to get, but I love these songs. I think there's a consistency to it, and a depth that I'm pretty proud of.
The Big Sleep play the Knitting Factory on December 3; admission is free. They’ll also ring in the New Year at The Mercury Lounge with Earl Greyhound.
Posted by Camille Dodero at 1:27 PM, October 22, 2007
A/K/A Sub Pop Had a Showcase
If the author had been one of the people snapping blurry photos, this wouldn't be a Band of Horses photo from McCarren Park Pool. Just sayin'.
photo by Rebecca Smeyne
The Brunettes + Band of Horses
Bowery Ballroom
Day 5: Oct 20
By Michael D. Ayers
By the fifth day, CMJ might have taken its collective toll on everyone; The Brunettes were playing a perfectly harmless set of New Zealand style jangle-pop (which is quite similar to all other jangle pop you might like), and I noticed in the corner a guy with a badge. Sitting down. Reading a book. It looked like a novel; there was no dust jacket, but the hardback looked new. He was devouring it, and seemed annoyed that he was working, or on call, or whatever it is that this particular badger was doing. Okay, I get that one would leave a show because he/she is really into a book, and the band on stage just isn’t doing it, but I had never seen anyone read during a band’s performance. At least not at the Bowery Ballroom. Yeesh.
Yet in a rather sad way, I think The Brunettes got the same feeling from a lot of everyone, just staring at them, probably exhausted, hungover, and generally tired of being out, surrounded by exhausted, hungover people such as themselves. Towards the end, they said something to the effect of “the band you want to see will be up next.” At least that’s what I think I heard; again I was in the back of the room, competing with other people’s various forms of not caring.
Okay, so The Brunettes really didn’t help their cause out, by doing band introductions to a reworked version of the “The Banana Song.” If you don’t remember, that’s the song you’re parents used to sing to you to bother you. The real name of that song, is “The Name Song,” so I guess it works with telling the audience who the band is, but, whatever. It was kinda dumb. I’m sure their core-audience, a.k.a. non-industry types would eat up that cutesy-pie diversion, but not us/them. Maybe that’s what made them sad, or at least have that realization that this gig might suck.
Cut away all that, The Brunettes are nothing amazing, but they have fun, they believe in themselves, and have a guy that will play the triangle for an entire song. That should be worth something, right? Standing there, I remembered that I had made a special point in 2005 to see them open for The Shins at Webster Hall. Incessant Internet chatter told me that this band was one to watch for, but I thought they were lame back then. They’ve gotten less lame since then, adding some relatively interesting changes within their song arrangements; the girl / guy vocal thing also works well, and they seem to be using a tradeoff mechanism more than I recalled. But above all, you gotta believe in the tunes you’re writing, and even before a crowd that seemed thoroughly annoyed at existing, The Brunettes plowed through anyways, hiding what was surely to be an exasperating *sigh*. I mean their music isn’t bad bad bo-bad, fee-fi fo fad.
Before I get into Band of Horses highlights, what has also been rather interesting to me about them was that video that circulated this summer of a gig where lead Horse guy Ben Bridwell went off on someone in the front row filming him to their somehow minor hit, “Funeral.” If you didn’t see it, don’t worry, he said he was sorry, but has pointed out the numerous instances of needing to document every little instance at a club concert, not to necessarily remember it (which is why you tend to record as an amateur), but instead use the documentation, that homemade media, for the spread to mass audiences- rendering the whole purpose of being at the show and capturing it for your own self, secondary. I get that, and to a degree, it does bother me when people are constantly snapping blurry photo after photo. How many times will you look at that? I often wonder.
On the other hand, I was interviewing Black Mountain a few weeks ago about their current tour, and how they’re playing songs from a forthcoming record. They told me how a lot of the people coming to their gigs are doing the same thing, but in essence, if they’re giving them free (and shitty) plugs, then maybe when the record does come out, they’ll be more motivated to buy the superior sounding product/recording/art work/data file. I see that perspective too, and had never thought of it like that.
So at a media heavy crowd such as CMJ, I wondered if ol’ Ben was going to be okay with cameras, both amateur and professional, being pointed at him for most of the night. And lo and behold, he was. Which means to me, that one Youtube video could carry a reputation with it that’s probably just an overly exaggerated form through hyperlinks and some embedding code. He definitely didn’t seem like the evil dude I saw this summer.
I thought a freak out could happen during the first song, the gorgeous track “Monsters.” He looked down at someone in the front row, bugged his eyes out a bit, and begun to flick his tongue in a way that, well, insinuates good oral skills. It seemed a bit crass, but maybe he knew the person and was just being silly. Or was suggesting a different sort of after party. Who knows. That was the only odd thing he managed to do, and for the most part, was very gracious throughout the night.
I was talking with a colleague, and we both agreed that above all, Band of Horses sounded very full. They’ve expanded their line up over the years, to include five or six people on stage. It’s grand sounding, moody, southern laced rock that has Bridwell trading off the pedal steel for a sweet looking double guitar, and his high, whiny voice sounds crystal clear with everything else going on around him.
So, they played about all the songs they could, dipping into both albums heavily. Their music isn’t revolutionary by any means, but it has the Bridwell’s southern charm that makes his sweet songs sound sweet, his rock songs sound fiery. Overall, he doesn’t seem like the a-hole that the Youtube video made him out to be.
Band of Horses plays Terminal 5 on November 4th. Guess you can bring your cameras?
Posted by Camille Dodero at 12:19 PM, October 19, 2007
Blackstrap + The Warlocks
Club Midway
Day 3: October 18
By Michael D. Ayers
If I had to do it all over again, I might somehow strive to wind up associated with Tee Pee Records. They seem to have their act together, but not in the conventional way we’ve come to think. Like I’m sure they don’t have a book keeper, and never have 401k’s in mind. They choose good artists and seem to have interesting, cool people hanging around them that talk about the future. Ideas, man.
These day parties sure have been fun to attend; no one is ever there, except the bands, their girlfriends / followers, and I’m guessing yesterday, the Tee Pee folks. A lot of them look like they just stepped off Grateful Dead tour, or are gunning to be extras in Almost Famous 2. Straggly hair, disheveled beards, jeans and t-shirt types. If you’ve ever seen the Brooklyn band VietNam, they’re the closest thing in look that I can think of at the moment, to what was mainly milling about.
Oh, and they seem to attract extremely good looking ladies; when I was in high school, the long hairs, the bearded ones, the dudes that knew how to change a distributor cap on a VW bus were not praised with attractive friends, so in some weird twist of fate way, I was happy to see this. Yet, Tee Pee caters to heavy, shoegazey, fuzzed out bands that draw on psychedelia bearing no resemblance to The Grateful Dead, Allmans, etc. Bands on Tee Pee probably get a “RIYL” The Velvet Underground and My Bloody Valentine more often than not, but I like those groups, so it doesn’t bother me that Tee Pee and crew are still digging drugged out distortion in 2007.
Blackstrap went on around 4:30, and I’d heard a track on Myspace that reminded me of who they say they like, the Jesus and Mary Chain. JAMC were tops in my books a long time ago, but after their lame excuse for a reunion gig at Webster this past May, I wasn’t that thrilled about seeing someone rehashing a band that recently annoyed me. Good thing is, they didn’t. There is one track I heard that does remind of JAMC, but live they were a whole other beast. The aforementioned reference points are there (you can add early Black Rebel Motorcycle Club too, if you want) but unlike the JAMC I saw in May, Blackstrap plays tight rock and roll, with hints of haze and atmospheric sounds in the background. Their bass guy looks like Jeremy Shockey, if Shockey was skinnier and didn’t have tattoos. I didn’t know any of Blackstrap’s songs, but I liked it. It was loud, and the band was adept at making quick, tight rhythm changes- just enough to keep you from getting bored. The droneyness of shoegaze bands can wear one down, but Blackstrap kept the energy up, even for the twenty-five of us scattered about.
They have a keyboardist who doesn’t seem to do much- she stands rather motionless and is no doubt easy on the eyes, but as the set wore on, I think I figured out that she was providing some sort of distant hum through her keys. Either that, or she was turned way down, so you couldn’t really tell what she was contributing. But she did sing at times, and her voice was high, sweet, and complimentary to the gruffness of her lead singer’s. I was left thinking that I’d like to see if a majority of their recorded stuff matched the powerful feeling of their live show. Nice work, Blackstrap.
Rounding the Tee Pee party was The Warlocks, a band that I haven’t thought about in awhile. I was really into their Phoenix Album a few years ago, but their subsequent releases failed to grab my attention. They took the stage at about 5:30 pm, and even though we know that it’s still very much daylight outside, the band turns off all the stage lights except for a soft glow in the back of blood red, hoisted above the drummer. You can’t see them, is what I’m getting at. Then comes the smoke. Fire, you think? No, the mass quantities of smoke that filled the stage, and also the tiny room, emerged from the smoke machine they were rocking late afternoon. So, they have a stage show. And because so much smoke filled the room, it started to get real difficult to see the person standing a few feet away from you.
Halfway into their set, they kicked in a fast strobe light that pulsated at the loud, end parts of their tunes, all the while, you still just staring at silhouettes. Yet, all of these “antics” forces you to focus on their music, and they’ve gotten better since I last saw them. They feel more melodic at times, and they’ve stopped relying on special instrument effects as a defense mechanism. They seem to have made a conscious effort to push themselves a bit, while maintaining their original feel they’ve cultivated over the years.
The Warlocks have a new record coming out this Tuesday called Heavy Deavy Skull Lover and are streaming the track they seem to be most happy with, “So Paranoid” at their Myspace page, as well as Tee Pee Records homepage.
Both bands play tonight at Luna Lounge, as part of Tee Pee’s official showcase. Warlocks will be back on November 6th, at Knitting Factory, and Blackstrap won’t be back for awhile.
Posted by Camille Dodero at 11:53 AM, October 17, 2007
Voxtrot at Fontana's; photo by Rebecca Smeyne
Jack Peñate and Voxtrot
Fontana’s
CMJ Day 1: October 16
by Michael D. Ayers
Maybe there were significant delays at LaGuardia or JFK. Whatever the reason for hardly anyone showing up to Beggar’s Group (4AD, XL, Matador) Party at Fontana’s yesterday was fine by me, as the Chinatown bar is spacious enough if you like boozing, but for bands, it can get a bit cramped in the basement.
One of their recent signings, Jack Peñate, who I’ve been told is blowing up in the U.K. right as I type, played the first of two performances. I’d heard one cut of his about two hours before, so while I’m no Peñate expert, he did remind me of a few things. First, he looks much like how I picture Sean Astin looking in those post-Rudy, pre-Lord of the Rings years. He rolls his checkered shirt up in a rockabilly fashion, and that’s fine, as he’s not skinny, so he can pull it off. Second, he often plays upbeat, bratty-punk pop songs in the vein of the Libertines and maybe the Arctic Monkeys. But it’s not nearly as over the top as the aforementioned, and his voice is more soulful (he likes to say “oh” a lot), and although his short set was rather upbeat, there was a lot of subtle ska sounds going on. So, I can see why the brits are currently loving him. He’s heart-throb-esque, and does that bouncy, guitar pop thing as good as the other guys who do the bouncy guitar-pop thing do.
Voxtrot played a short, five-song set afterwards. For some reason, Voxtrot is participating in official CMJ stuff, and this was a little warm up set to their Brooklyn Vegan sponsored showcase later in the evening. I get why older acts use CMJ and SXSW to “reintroduce” themselves to the industry folks that might have forgotten them, but Voxtrot is neither up-and-coming, nor forgotten. Whether they’ve peaked in terms of popularity, that I’m not sure of. I do know they seem to play nearly every month in this city, with two shows earlier this week at the Music Hall of Williamsburg. Over the summer, which was like a few weeks ago, they did a show at Webster Hall, which holds over a thousand people. Fontana’s basement holds about forty-five comfortably, or yesterday, around thirty. Aside from the bassist who sings/mouths along to the lead singer’s words, Voxtrot was pleasantly tolerable for their short set.
Voxtrot at Fontana's, photo by Rebecca Smeyne
They’ve suffered a bit of a “dude you gotta hear these guys” syndrome, which makes me not want to hear them at all, when everyone is saying that same line, but they’ve since recovered from their 2006 hype wave. Now that people are caring about bands called Black Kids and Vampire Weekend, Voxtrot has nothing to lose, and thus seemed happy to play their happy pop songs, even if it was for a tiny audience- a fraction of what they’re used to at most shows.
So was the Beggars kick-off party. Not annoyingly overcrowded and acts that sufficiently set the bar higher than normal for a CMJ week. Oh, and Jack Peñate likes to bug his eyes out in an attempt to emphasize lyrical points he’s trying to make. He gets them pretty big, and that’s fun to try and keep tabs on.
Posted by Camille Dodero at 3:39 PM, October 2, 2007
(left to right) Jeff Baron, Gary Olson, Ben Crum, Kyle Forester and Julia Rydholm
Interview by Michael D. Ayers
I wanted to address the elephant in the room right away, though I'm talking with Ladybug Transistor founder Gary Olson in more of a basement, really, situated in a 100-year-old house on a sleepy street in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn—the recording studio for all six of the Transistor's delicate, baroque-pop-heavy records. In April, longtime drummer San Fadyl passed away after a severe asthma attack; obviously, it hit the band hard, and I wondered if they'd thought about shutting off the Transistor for good.
Fishwrap only has so much space, so here's the rest of Ayers's conversation with Gary Olson that didn't make it into the most recent Voice. Highlights from the transcript as follow.
Did you guys think about calling it quits when San passed?
In some ways it brought us a bit closer; I think we probably would have felt worse, if we had been sitting around, at home, after going through all the feelings and everything. It felt like it might be a good idea to keep playing, as some sort of therapy. And it’s been hard, and if you’ve ever heard him play, his touch and feel is very distinctive, in terms of anyone we’d play with. It was really special, and he brought a lot of character to the band. We were really good friends. So it was a huge thing for us. Even though he had been living in Switzerland for the past four or five years, we were still really close.
So I was used to seeing him about every six months or so. Its funny, we’d all come from different places, and we’d be at the first show, and it was always just a breathe of fresh air to start those tours with him. So now, it is about that time, you start to feel…
It’s coming on six months.
Yes, exactly.
Has the incarnations and rotating casts, keep things fresh or hindered things?
After we did the self titled record, there was a point where the membership was lacking definition. I really had to decide. So it was really up to me, to decide whether we should keep doing it. So I got my toes wet a little bit; it was around that time I started to work with other people, especially live. We were offered a lot of European tours, and it seemed like a good opportunity to get other people involved. And it felt really good; it was the first time I had started to play with a very different line up of people, and they were already bringing something different to it. In the early days of the band, when we did the Arbernale Sound record, I guess it was the novelty. There were two couples in the band, and a brother and sister. That can only last so long. So we were doing that for two or three years. So after the last record, I started working with different people and it seemed to open up my mind a bit. And I think that’s a reason why there was such a delay between the two records—finding people to write with, and looking outside the band a bit more.
Eventually I found Kyle Forrester who plays a lot of keyboards on the record, he really helped a lot with the initial demos, and building things up. Last Spring, 2006, we started largely rehearsing and working on the songs.
So, with that in mind, how does Ladybug write songs these days?
For me, I’ve definitely slowed down a bit as far as ideas that have come through me. I like taking scraps of people’s ideas, if they have a basic tune, and give it some direction. Writing lyrics and melody for it. Kyle and Ben and Julia brought together initial ideas for songs that we all built up.
It seems like you’ve take a bit of the pressure off yourself then.
I mean its sort of like picking good songs, rather than ones that come originated 100% from me.
So within this four year gap, what’re the band and you doing?
Aside from a lot of touring, not so much here, but I did a lot of European touring. Spent a lot of time over there. The big thing that used up a lot of time and energy, was working on the Kevin Ayers record. That was a long term project, spread out over six months. Their management got in touch with us, about working together. They came over to Brooklyn, and they got him a loft over by BAM. He’d come over almost every other day, and had a bunch of demos for songs that we were building up. It was pretty amazing, and a surreal experience to have him in my home for so long. He was a pretty big influence on the early Ladybug stuff.
Was that out of the blue that they contacted you guys?
Well, along time ago, we were doing a theme record, that was French-themed. He had an old song he did in French, and by chance, we asked him if he wanted to do the vocal for it. But it was all through the mail, but that’s how he became aware of us. And when they were looking for someone to work with him on the new record, that’s how it came. It’s definitely the biggest production job I’ve had. And it was great getting the band together; I got to choose a lot of the musicians.
Bridgette St. John is living in New York- an early folk singer, that sang on one of his early records. And they hadn’t seen each other for like 30 years. And I knew she was around, and it was my dream to kinda get them together. So I’m glad she made it on to the record.
So you’ve been pretty busy then, and not just watching The Real World.
Yeah, it was pretty exhausting. We were away for like over a month in Tuscon, doing more recording, and when I got back, I really didn’t want to do anything for awhile.
You guys have been doing this for so long, but are still flying under the radar. Why is that?
There are some dedicated people, wherever we go. But they always seem to be apologizing, “Sorry there weren’t many people here.”
And we don’t really know what happened either. I don’t think our music is that strange, where it shouldn’t have a bit more of an audience. I think in a way, since we were never a hyped band, that may have contributed to our longevity in a way. Maybe if we have gotten hugely popular, there would have been more tension in the band and pressure to do stuff, instead of working the way we do. I guess that’s a romantic way of looking at it. But yeah I wish I knew why, because then I’d be able to solve that problem.
For “Another Day,” recording, what stood out in the process?
Since I’ve been here for so long, I have it pretty figured out. It’s a pretty small room, with low ceilings.
Do you do it all down here?
We have remote-control tape machines upstairs, and the piano if we need more space, but a lot of it is down here. It’s a funny little space.
Do you leave the couch here?
Yeah, pretty much everything is how it is now. We have little nooks and closets, that these little chambers around the basement to isolate things. We discovered on the last record that if we put the mic in the far far closet, with the door closed, we can get this huge drum sound, that we could leak into the mix. That’s pretty much the drum sound for “Here Comes The Rain.” There was a mic in a far off closet that’s pushed up a bit in the mix, and it makes it sound like a stadium.
rss feed
