Lollipop Records has been a semi-revolutionary, multi-cultural conglomeration of punk kids, loveless teen dreams, and pop enthusiasts trying to change the world. When you hear Astrologer’s new songs, it’s no surprise that Andy and Candy feel right at home there.
Today, Friday, 8/16, their new single “Lighthouse” is released, with the highly anticipated album Astrologer Fleetwood Sprawl following on 9/3.
In this candid interview, Andrew Cline of Astrologer takes us on a journey through the making of the album. From the spontaneous songwriting process to embracing the raw, unpolished sound of their demos, Andrew delves into the creative process that shaped Astrologer Fleetwood Sprawl.
You can find ‘Out of Control’ showcased on the Best Power Pop of 2024 Spotify Playlist.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
I started writing the songs that ultimately became Astrologer Fleetwood Sprawl while we were mixing our last album, Eternal Friday, in early 2023. I don’t really choose when I write songs; it just happens. I go through phases where I won’t pick up a guitar for months, and then – BOOM – a dozen will come pouring out over the course of a week or so. In this case, the songs just happened to come pouring out. Because I was writing so quickly, we decided it would be smart to make demos; otherwise, I forget stuff.
Our whole band lives in the same apartment complex: the Fleetwoods. Downstairs from Candy and me, our guitarist Blake Garmon has an apartment where he keeps a Tascam 4-track plugged in. We started going down to his place to demo songs as soon as I would finish writing them, just to have them documented. This became a regular thing—hanging around at Blake’s, making demos. Eventually, over the course of several months, we had accrued a lot of material. We were enchanted with the sound of our recordings. Some sounded great, some sounded really loose and dirty, but they all hung together in a homespun, endearing kind of way. Blake said we should just make the demos the final versions of the songs, with some mixing, of course. At that point, I started remembering all the “albums” I made on my four-track growing up, and how I wanted to make an Astrologer album that way.
While we were recording some of the songs at Blake’s apartment, I recorded two in my apartment and struck up a friendship with Jaime Paul Lamb, a musician and astrologer here in Phoenix. He and I started spending evenings recording in the back room of his house as well. I did five songs there.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
What struck me as special about it came gradually over the course of 2023.
When we started looking at the album that seemed to be coming together, Blake pretty much insisted it would have to be a double album. I love double albums, don’t get me wrong. The thing is, when it’s your own music, it doesn’t come off fun and whimsical and complete, like The White Album. All the insecurity, all the mistakes—they’re not fun. I started siding with the critics of the world: “This could be a great single album instead of a mediocre double album.” That’s how I think. Blake brought up the excellent point that this double album is a complete document of how we spent 2023 and the first couple of months of 2024. And he’s right. That made it start to stand out to me.
Once we committed to the double album idea, it started getting wrapped up in my memories of being a kid and growing up in Phoenix. Candy said we should make the album feel like how it was to watch local TV back in the ’80s and ’90s, so I started seeking out old commercials from Phoenix that I remembered from childhood. Then it really started to take on its personality. It is a shambolic album, one that sounds like nighttime in a Phoenix of years past, replete with the sounds and sights of that city.
Within this collection, do you feel that the best song you’ve ever written finds its home? If not, what distinguishes this record’s essence from your prior work?
Yes, there are a few career-best tunes from me here: “Heart of Mine,” “Merry-Go-Round,” and “Lighthouse” are my favorites. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that Candy thinks “Never Let You Go” is one of my best songs.
As an artist, the act of baring your emotions to the world is profound. Does this vulnerability come naturally to you, or is it a constant journey of finding comfort?
I am embarrassed by my vulnerability, but I know that it suits me better than preening and leaning into “the act,” so to speak. I am profoundly uncomfortable when I am doing anything that doesn’t feel authentic or sincere. I love bands that can create a succinct image and act; I envy that ability. It’s just not me. I’ve tried, and it doesn’t work. What comes naturally to me is to be how I am, look how I look, write how I write, sing how I sing. Unfortunately, that approach doesn’t command mass audiences, but hey, I always wanted to be a difficult, underappreciated artist, and that’s what I became.
I used to sit back and wonder, “How come they’re getting big and I’m not?” or “I write better than they do; why do they get the glory? What’s wrong with me?” But in all honesty, I’m too entrenched in staying aligned with my own tastes and beliefs to be ambitious on that scale. I looked up to the Paul Westerbergs and Elliott Smiths of the world when I was a kid; it’s only natural that I’m at odds with myself. I want to be respected and recognized, but I don’t particularly want to play any games. In the words of R. Stevie Moore, “I like to stay home.”
Imagine you could collaborate with three co-writers of your choice for new songs. Who would you select, and what qualities or dynamics draw you to them?
Tough question. I don’t really co-write; it’s a personal experience for me. The people I’d love to work with are people I would NEVER deign to think I could equal in talent and skill.
That said, I greatly appreciate and would love to learn from Robyn Hitchcock, Gruff Rhys, Martin Newell, and Kelley Stoltz. The reasons are obvious—just listen to their music.
I’d love to write with Noah Nash and Reza Matin from the Uni Boys. Excellent pop writers, with a laser-focused understanding of their genre, its history, and where it could go.
Vanity Mirror comes to mind too. Brent Randall writes ethereal songs—songs I have an intrinsic feeling for that I couldn’t possibly replicate in composition. I’m much too messy and simple.
Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?
That’s always changing. On the last albums (Eternal Friday, Legerdemain L & R), I brought finished songs to the studio after poring over them for a few months. With Astrologer Fleetwood Sprawl, I recorded the lion’s share of the songs immediately after I would feverishly write them. To be honest, there are several songs that will appear on the album that I wouldn’t consider “finished” by any metric. But it is the way it is meant to be presented, and if nothing else, it’s real. The realest thing I’ve done, at least.
Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?
We don’t, haha! I make songs that I think are hits but are completely out of step with the world at large. When I write “commercial” songs, I typically do it with a sarcasm that betrays the approach. When I write “experimental” songs, I’m pissed they aren’t catchy or short. So, I suppose I’m still trying to navigate that!
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs?
Yes.
Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?
I’ve never written a hit song. My idea of a hit is wildly skewed.
Performing music before an audience holds a unique allure. What aspects of this experience contribute to the excitement and enjoyment for you?
I don’t like performing live, particularly. Especially the more vulnerable songs. I will say, though, recently, we’ve been getting a really moving response to our newer material. We played a bar a few months ago, and a lady cried and came up and told us how much she loved our music and that it really spoke to her. I write music in the hopes that people will react in such a way, so I keep performing live. We really are a testament to building our audience one person at a time. We will play to a room with 50 people, and it will speak to 5 of them. Ours is not an overnight success story.
While you can’t dictate how people interpret your music, are there specific elements you wish to highlight that set your songs apart?
My best songs aren’t singles. I’d implore anyone, especially outsiders, to listen to our albums. I’m an outsider, and I find we relate most to other outsiders.
If tasked with introducing your music through three songs, which ones would you choose and what story do they collectively convey to new listeners?
My inclination is to quote the late John Peel in regard to which Fall albums are essential: “You must get them all.” My music really only paints a picture when you listen to it in totality. If you judge us by our singles, you would probably see us very differently than you would if you listened to our albums, front to back.
Three songs that I think show a different side to us would be “Oblivion” from Legerdemain L, “Détente” from Legerdemain R, and “Lighthouse” from our new album. These are not the three most important songs in our catalog, but
the story I’d like to convey is that we are more eclectic than we seem.
In a hypothetical scenario where you could tour with two other bands, who would be your ideal companions, and what synergies do you envision?
Kelley Stoltz and Uni Boys. I love both their music! I’m fortunate to call Uni Boys acquaintances—we’ve played together several times. I don’t tire of seeing them play, and we get along well.
In Mr. Stoltz’s case, I view him as a kindred spirit to me, and I like to think we’d get along, though I don’t know him at all. I can hear the little cribs he does in his songs; it’s like a secret language. Candy and I saw him and (our hero) Robyn Hitchcock at Zebulon a couple of months ago; his set was great, and that’s saying a lot when you have to go on before someone like Hitchcock, an unimpeachable, singular legend.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
Like I said before, I’ve always idolized outsiders—difficult, uncompromising artists who didn’t get their due during their time. I presume that if we ever find a larger audience, which may or may not happen, it will be long after we have any vestige of youth left to give. I wish I’d wake up tomorrow and get sync placements and be a hugely respected songwriter, but I know that, in my heart, I haven’t been striving toward a material goal. I’ve only ever listened to myself and my own whim, at the end of the day. I became the type of artist I wanted to be, and people will hopefully come around to whatever it is I contribute to the world someday.
How would you describe the evolution of your sound in this new album compared to your previous works? Were there intentional shifts in style or themes?
This album is an exercise in non-editing. I am typically compelled to edit and omit things I don’t like from our releases. This time, it simply didn’t happen. We are including everything: the good, the bad, the ugly. Astrologer Fleetwood Sprawl is the sound of a few friends spending time, making songs for different moods. Some are the best we’ve ever done, some aren’t. Hell, there are a couple of glorified karaoke tunes, just for a laugh. It’s a document of how we spent 2023 at the Fleetwood apartments in central Phoenix, Arizona.
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