Nick Frater has demonstrated his ability to craft exceptional pop songs over an extended period. Take, for instance, “Aerodrome Motel” (from 2022) or “Earworms” from 2021. His knack for creating not just beautiful melodies but also for prolific songwriting is evident. In his latest release, “Bivouac,” released via Think Like A Key Music, Frater presents 23 new songs, all exuding the delightful essence reminiscent of the styles of Wings, Rundgren, and Lynne.
Frater delves into the creation process behind “Bivouac,” a project that assembled an impressive ensemble of stars.
You mentioned ‘Bivouac’ has a rich history. How did that come about?
The creation of Bivouac was a rather peculiar process. I accidentally reused a musical idea—specifically, the mellotron string section in both “The Town of Opportunities” and “Little Sister Moon.” Additionally, I had multiple approaches swirling in my head for the arrangement of “The Town of Opportunities,” so I decided to explore them all.
One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I had what you hear on the album. Almost every song seamlessly flows into the next. I also revisited some of my classical training, resulting in the record opening in Sonata form, with recurring motifs, ‘hero instruments,’ and structural and harmonic symmetry. Yet, I aimed for it to maintain a rocking quality throughout.
The story behind the lyrics is similar. I initially wrote about fifty verses for “The Town of Opportunities,” intending to craft a concept album around the decline of post-industrial Britain. However, I trimmed it down along the way, turning some songs into instrumentals. There’s a fine line between concept albums and musical theatre, and that’s a line I didn’t want to cross!
Your team is stellar. Did you plan it out or did the team grow naturally?
I’ve been fortunate to meet and collaborate with incredibly talented musicians! (Macca, if you’re reading this, give me a call!)
The sessions for Bivouac were quite adventurous, often involving 5-6 musicians tracking live in the same room, intentionally mimicking the process used in many of my favorite records. However, it requires skill; there’s no “undo” button working that way!
Playing at IPO Liverpool each year was a significant catalyst in forming a somewhat steady band. Meeting numerous great songwriters and musicians in person was fantastic—I even ended up playing nine shows in two days, with five different bands!
The echoes of The Beatles and ELO are unmistakable in your work. Is it freeing to showcase your inspirations so openly?
Part of the joy of making music is translating the sounds from my head into your ears. Given my extensive listening to The Beatles and similar artists, their influence naturally seeps into my work. I particularly admire Jeff Lynne’s productions, like Free As A Bird/Real Love.
In “The Town of Opportunities” (part 2), we actually recorded a Jeff Lynne ‘guitar choir’—his trademark approach to acoustic guitars—where several guitarists strum the same thing at once, double-tracking it. Try it next time with six guitarists in a room… instant ELO!
Moving to Think Like A Key Music for the release of ‘Bivouac’ must feel like a thrilling transition?
I’m still very much a part of the Big Stir family, and there are exciting plans for 2024. I usually create 2-3 albums a year—some self-released, some on a label. With so much happening in the Big Stir calendar, we couldn’t manage a 2023 release. I’m already about four albums ahead of Bivouac!
Interestingly, I had been recording with many artists on Think Like a Key recently, even playing keys for Ex Norwegian at The Cavern this year. It seems chance and fate conspired to bring Bivouac to the world through this route.
I’m thrilled to be label mates with Novelty Island, probably the most exciting band in the U.K. right now, and also with R Stevie Moore, which is mind-blowing! Now THAT is a collaboration I’d love to do.
Completing the backing vocals for ‘Boom and Bust’ must have brought immense joy. How did it feel when it was done?
Haha, that’s probably a question for Roger Manning! He’s an incredible person to work with, very supportive of musicians at all levels. I’ve collaborated with him on several songs in recent years, and he generously shares his expertise, especially on creating those Queen-esque harmonies. Apparently, my songs are more challenging than his big-name session gigs—a compliment I’ll gladly accept!
The landscape of an innovative movement within Modern Power Pop is taking shape with more clarity. Bands are increasingly citing figures like Mo Troper or Tony Molina as their primary inspirations. It’s intriguing to note that their influences lean more towards Chris Bell than The Knack, showcasing the distinctive essence of this movement. This isn’t about straightforward accessibility; these records often take listeners on an exploratory journey rather than providing a comforting familiarity, akin to a plunge into the unknown rather than a cozy bath. Craig Heed from Miracle Sweepstakes also draws inspiration from Todd Rundgren and Brian Wilson, adding further depth to this evolving scene.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
Ian had a bunch of recording gear his dad left him, and the process of making Last Licks was essentially learning how to use all of it. The irony of our band is that Doug and Justin have both worked professionally as audio engineers, but Ian and I have never really graduated past four-track demos, yet it was Ian and I who recorded the bulk of the basic live tracks. Doug came out a couple times to Ian’s basement in Long Island and showed us how to set things up, and from there, Ian and I would meet up on weekends and try to record his drum tracks.
There were times early on where we’d think we got a really good performance, but when we’d email it to the rest of the band, it’d turn out the mic placement was off, and it’d be back to the drawing board. Justin’s suggestion to use two mics on the snare drum smoothed out most of those issues, though. Once we had the tracks for drums and my guitar, we’d send it to Doug and Justin, who’d add their bass and guitar parts, respectively. Justin got really into adding “bells and whistles,” too – lots of guitar textures, synths, and auxiliary percussion – and when he offered to mix the album, it was kind of a turning point. We were just able to spend so much more time making mix revisions than we would’ve, had we worked with an outside engineer. I think the mixing was really what made the album sound the way it does. On the raw tracks, you could tell we were playing in a basement, or that I recorded my vocals in my bedroom. But the final product sounds like a record.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
My thinking going in was that we probably didn’t have the technical know-how, recording space, or gear to get really good raw sounds, so for this to work, the sound of the record would really have to come together in mixing. So my idea was to finish a pair of songs first, get someone to mix them, and if they came out well, then I’d be confident that we could make a whole album this way.
I chose “Ooh Ahh” because it felt like a single, and “Let Something Happen” because I had a clear plan for how to track it, having Ian play his acoustic kit for the choruses, and this drum loop we sampled from his electronic kit for the verses. Once we finished tracking them both, they were mixed by Michael DiSanto, who came highly rec’d from our friends in the band Gorgeous. I was pretty happy with how they came out, and that’s when it felt pretty attainable to home record the whole album. We put out “Ooh Ahh”/”Let Something Happen” in summer 2022, and spent the next year or so hammering out the rest of the songs in Ian’s basement.
The decision to seek opinions on your new songs is intriguing. When did you realize that external perspectives could contribute to your creative process?
In recent years I haven’t really been sharing my songs with many people mid-process. I’ll show rough ideas to my girlfriend, and her opinion is pretty important to me, but I think I usually just hear what I wanna hear. If a song I didn’t think much of elicits a really positive reaction, I see it in a new light, but if a song I’m excited about gets a tepid response, my attitude is, you just don’t see the full picture yet, and I stubbornly keep working on it. I can think of at least a couple times where the latter has happened and I was vindicated in the end.
I’m a pretty thorough demo-er, I have a maxed out SoundCloud page full of them, and I used to send them around to friends whenever I had a new one I was excited about. But when we were making Turn Heel I noticed everyone was getting “demoitis,” where they were thrown off by the studio versions of songs because they’d grown so used to the demos. So partly because of that, I’ve played things a little closer to the vest.
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
I think the infrastructure to be a true left field success, like a Clap Your Hands Say Yeah or a Broken Social Scene back in the day, just doesn’t exist anymore. The Pitchforks of the world aren’t looking to pluck The Next Big Thing out of total obscurity, they’re chasing clicks by focusing on established acts. There’s viral fame, but I think most of the artists The Algorithm chooses generally still have more initial momentum than we do. You’ll see someone referred to as being obscure, and they’ve still got magnitudes more streams or followers or whatever than we do. We’re really obscure.
So short of someone with a lot of clout stumbling upon our music, liking it, and setting off some magical chain of events, I think it’s probably pretty difficult to jump from where we’re at now to any level of legitimate success. But I think the process of recording this album ourselves, and not being sure how it’d all turn out, lowered our sights to where it’s just gratifying to have even made something we think is good. So success takes the form of being proud of the music, grateful for whatever positive response our friends have to it, and being able to make another one.
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?
I’d like to think the best song I’ve ever written is still ahead of me, but while it may be more grower than shower, I think “Nor’easter” is a strong candidate for best Miracle Sweepstakes song. I was really into “Before Meaning Comes” by Ian William Craig, and listening to a lot of Les Rallizes Dénudés, and wanted to write something that kind of combined the two, basically an ambient rock song. It’s the longest Miracle Sweepstakes song, and arguably the simplest– the chord progression is probably the most basic and ubiquitous one we’ve ever used. But I think it just works.
To my ears, it’s the one song of ours where if you put it on, it just colors the room. It’s got some of my best guitar tones, and really the first thing resembling a proper solo that I’ve played since “Private Disguise” off our first album. I’m pretty happy with the lyrics as well, they conjure pretty vivid, solitary memories – driving along Shore Parkway in Brooklyn, taking the LIRR – that encapsulate where I was at when I was writing all these songs.
Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds an indelible place in your memory and why does it stand out?
I used to work for a company that helped architects and engineers get their licenses, and one of our clients hosted an industry conference in Brooklyn that they wanted live music for. My boss threw our hat in the ring, and so we wound up playing the “cocktail hour” of the event in this big fabrication studio, where we were set up on the mezzanine level playing to the guests below. It felt like what I could imagine playing an Andy Warhol Factory party was like or something, except instead of it being some druggy bohemian loft, it was this corporate party.
We prepared a few covers to play, one of which was “The Killing Moon,” which we wound up recording for Halloween shortly after the gig. Towards the end of the set, we played our song “Bad Bee,” which has an extended noise breakdown that I feared had alienated the attendees. This was compounded by our next and final song, a cover of Radiohead’s “Creep,” during which I think I sang “fucking special” instead of “very special.” I worried we had offended the whole room, but when we came down from the mezzanine, everyone we talked to said they loved it. It was a great one-off experience, and we’ll probably never make that much money from a show ever again.
Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?
I wrote a piece for Talkhouse about what I called “the Goldilocks Zone” between accessibility and experimentation, and how I think the most compelling music toes the line between the two. Last Licks is our most experimental album in a literal sense– so many of the songs came out of experimenting with new methods and ideas. But every song has a pretty strong melodic sensibility, and as a songwriter I always try to give some payoff to justify the weirdness. The flipside is that whenever I offer up a killer hook or big chorus, I use it as carte blanche to do some weird self-indulgent stuff right after. One for thee, one for me…
If tasked with introducing your music through three songs, which ones would you choose and what story do they collectively convey to new listeners?
The guy who we were initially recording Turn Heel with wound up ghosting us, but while we were recording “Maker’s Script,” he was like, “you know, I really don’t know who this song sounds like.” He eventually landed on Queen, which was awesome, because it definitely doesn’t sound like Queen. But he was this hotshot Brooklyn producer guy, so he definitely knew a lot of music, and it was cool that we’d made something he thought was truly original. I’ll go with that one, but since it’s a little jarring and abrasive, I’d probably first lead with “Shoot the Blue,” which has been a staple in our sets since I wrote it, and is the one song that randos in the crowd respond to. It’s got one of my best choruses, a cool chord progression and structure, and I really like the production and arrangement.
For track three, I’ll pick “How True” off the new album. It came together so effortlessly despite being such a departure from what we’ve done previously, and I’m really happy with it. I think if someone showed me a band with these three songs, I’d be really excited that a band like this exists. And feeling that way is really all you can ever hope to get out of making music.
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
Around the time Rorschached came out, I met this dude at a party at Justin’s old apartment who asked what band I played in, then busted out his phone and followed us on Instagram right there on the spot. I’d keep seeing him around, and he’d be really friendly but keep saying, “remind me your name again? Right– Miracle Sweepstakes! I follow you guys, been meaning to give it a listen!” It was this funny and illuminating microcosm of how many impressions it takes for someone to actually check something out.
Eventually, I’d see him and he’d be like, “love your guys’ stuff, man!” It all culminated with running into him and his girlfriend at a show at Baby’s All Right in Brooklyn, maybe a couple months before COVID. He introduced me by saying, “you gotta check this guy’s band out– Miracle Sweepstakes. They’re like, the Beatles of New York City! No one is doing what they’re doing!” But before I could blush, he continued, “And the craziest part is, NO ONE knows about them! They have NO fans!” It’s still my favorite thing anyone’s ever said about me and my music.
Studio moments often hold a touch of magic. Could you recount an instance that stands out as the most enchanting during your creative process?
Probably the opposite of enchanting, and this is more Ian’s story to tell than mine, but during the recording process a raccoon broke into Ian’s basement and had babies. She basically just squatter’s rights’d the place, and we couldn’t record for several weeks while her and her kits were down there. Eventually the authorities apprehended them, and took them all to some raccoon sanctuary or something. I just know they had to be taken at least 18 miles away from the house, otherwise they’d find their way back. Luckily, none of our equipment was destroyed.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
I wouldn’t consider us a part of the music industry since we don’t make money doing this, but whenever I send our stuff out I feel like we’re in kind of a sonic no man’s land. There are bands that sound like a perfect fit for a certain label, or bill, or that fit cleanly in a certain genre or scene, and we don’t. I’m proud of that on an artistic level, but I do think it makes it harder to connect with people.
Most music listeners are casual listeners– they don’t care how unique or innovative something is, they just want something they can put on and enjoy. So if something sounds familiar or is easy to get into, that resonates with people. The bands I’ve known who’ve gotten some level of success almost always involved people who used to be doing something more interesting, and when those projects didn’t go anywhere, they started new ones that were more on the nose, and those were the ones that connected. In fairness, they’re almost always done very well, so I do think execution matters. But listeners haven’t had to work for music in a long time. There’s no modern equivalent to buying a CD and having to learn to like it, and so I think acquired tastes are less of a thing now. If you can make someone say “this sounds just like Big Star!” that’s good enough for them. There are a million shoegaze or emo or post-punk bands who all sound interchangeable, and they’ve all got more going for them than we do. But there’s only one Miracle Sweepstakes.
With the record completed and the music released, do you believe the pinnacle of enjoyment has been reached, or is this just the beginning of an exciting phase?
I think the dopamine rush you get from an album is probably at its highest right when the music is released, because social media has poisoned our brains and that’s when you’re getting the most likes and whatnot. That stuff fades quicker than ever now, as music is increasingly worthless and disposable to people.
In terms of personal enjoyment of my own music, I think that’s at its highest once there’s some distance. Revisiting past albums with a fresher set of ears, once I’m no longer living and dying on how well I think they came out, I find I can enjoy them for what they are a bit better. The little imperfections or things I could’ve done differently still sting, but that’s life when you’re crazy.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
Not sure when this will run, but we’re playing a release show for the album on November 4th at Unruly Collective in Brooklyn, with Street Missile, Pleaser and Jeremy Good Job. Beyond that, we’re working on a video for “Bad Bee” that we’re pretty excited about. We’ll hopefully have more shows in New York, and we were trying to set up a little weekender in Boston.
Justin and I also have a band called Hit with our friends Charles and Cameron, and we’ve got an album in the works for 2024. It’s kind of like noise rock meets the Byrds. I just started working on a new, sort of conceptual Miracle Sweepstakes song project that I haven’t even told the rest of the band about yet.
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?
The biggest new element is Justin– he joined just after we finished tracking Rorschached, so while he’s been in the band for years now, this is the first album to feature him. He has so many great parts that I either wouldn’t have thought of or couldn’t have played– the sweep picking at the end of “O-Pine,” the almost neo-classical-meets-country leads on the choruses of “Bad Bee.” Even parts he lifted from my original solo demos are reinterpreted in such a next level way. My demo of “Last Licks” had this spooky, atmospheric overdub on the choruses that Justin took and turned into this mammoth riff that sounds like a dinosaur or something. It’s so huge it spills into the second verse, and it totally makes the choruses pop.
The other big thing was our approach to the drums. For “I Try” on Rorschached, Ian played his sampling pad instead of a traditional kit. We expanded on that for this record, using the pad as well as Ian’s electronic kit, and worked on arrangements where maybe one section of a song would be a sampled loop, and the next would be real drums, or the two would even overlap. “Rectangular Eclipse,” “Let Something Happen,” and “Nor’easter” all feature that approach.
We took things even further on “How True,” where the whole song is built on samples and MIDI tracks– we barely even play on it ourselves. It’s an approach I’d like to explore more on the next thing we do.
With this fresh collection of songs, how do you envision connecting with both your existing fanbase and new listeners? Are there specific emotions or messages you hope they’ll resonate with?
As we were working on the album, I realized there was kind of a linear narrative in the track sequence. It starts with “Last Licks,” which is this urgently pessimistic song, and ends with “All This Way to Come Back Now,” which is triumphant and almost anthemic, and kind of saying, “who cares about now or never?” Musical attention spans are nonexistent at this point, but I hope the album as a whole resonates with listeners because 1) I think it’s a pretty immersive listen taken in full and 2) “All This Way” is probably the catchiest song on the record, and I don’t want it to be completely buried.
In the digital age, visual elements are intertwined with music. How did you approach the album’s visual aesthetics, such as album art and accompanying visuals? How do they complement the sonic experience you’ve crafted?
The visual component to our music is almost as important as the music itself to me, and I spend a lot of time thinking about what the music looks like and how I can capture that. I do all the artwork for the band, and before this record, the through line for most of it was this loose sports team aesthetic, where we had a big MS logo and this tequila sunrise color scheme. My friend Alex Gowing, who’s done the layouts for the physical runs of all three albums, made it based on a sketch I did, and I created all these drawings that were kind of like the Warhol-Basquiat collaborations, where I was basically defacing Alex’s clean graphic design work with all these wild gestures. Turn Heel and all our early singles featured some iteration of that, and while we moved away from it a bit on Rorschached, there’s still the big yellow “M” in the foreground.
For Last Licks, I wanted to break from all that while still preserving the kind of abstract expressionist aesthetic. I had this weird little neon drawing tablet that had these random scribblings on them, and part of it looked vaguely like the handwritten Miracle Sweepstakes “M.” The colors also matched the darker sounding material we were working on– no yellow. I knew I wanted to overlay that with a screenshot I took from this dumb video I posted on Instagram, which was just of the lit up dashboard of my mom’s minivan while I sheepishly asked people to come to whatever show we were playing. I just thought it was a cool, stark image, and kind of reminded me of Ghost in the Machine by the Police.
I put those together and felt like it was still missing something, so I took some pictures of the street lights illuminating the trees across the street from my apartment, and layered those in as well. I just felt like the record had this dark, autumnal vibe, and even though it was June at the time, the pictures just had the right foreboding, nocturnal quality. I messed with it in Gimp until I felt like I had the definitive version.
I took a similar approach to the visualizer I did for “Rectangular Eclipse,” which was all just footage I got on my phone at Coney Island after a Brooklyn Cyclones game. It’s all double exposures and extreme zooms to get a lot out of a little, but the idea is the same– trying to convey the visual textures and palettes that are intrinsic to the songs.
The Blood Rush Hour is essentially Robert DeStefano and whoever he can persuade, coerce, cajole, or bribe into lending their exceptional talents to his projects. Their most recent release, “Sanity Fare,” distinguishes itself not just from their earlier work but also from the majority of contemporary pop music. Robert himself asserts, “I believe that the distinctive melodies, unexpected musical twists, profound lyrics, intricate arrangements, versatility across various musical styles, and innovative use of background vocals set my music apart.”
If you’re looking for a suitable genre to place their music, consider categorizing it alongside 10cc, ELO, Jellyfish, The Dowling Poole, and XTC.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
I recall feeling emotionally and creatively spent after the release of ‘Who Folds First’ in 2017. It took 18 months before I was ready to begin a new project. However, just as I was gearing up to start recording again, we ran into the pandemic, which brought everything to a grinding halt for over a year. This caused a real challenge for me because I compose in the studio. I will book, say, four days in a week and will arrive with absolutely nothing written. Tim (engineer/studio owner/bassist/guitarist) starts the DAW recording, and I sit at the MIDI piano and start working things out. Therefore, it takes a bit longer to complete.
As time ticked on, I wanted to get the album completed and released. Unfortunately, Tim was booked solid for months into the future with all the artists who were unable to record during the pandemic. So, I asked Willie Dowling (the Dowling Poole, Jackdaw 4) if he had any time to help me finish. Thankfully, Willie agreed, and I spent a few weeks in France at his home studio, where we completed over half the album. I then returned to Tim’s in July and August of this year to finish the remainder. WHEW!!
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
I think that would have been during my first trip to France in October of 2022. You must understand that I am a gigantic fan of Willie and his music. I knew that Willie was a fan of my music because we’d corresponded previously. But he seemed to shy away from any suggestion of working together. It was only after working together that I discovered why.
Willie’s studio is in an outbuilding on the grounds of his home. Willie also lives in a very rural area of Normandie. If I were to work there, Willie and his wife would have to put me up, feed me, etc. for a week. Having never really spent any time with me previously, he was loath to take the risk. Thankfully he did, and it was during that first week that I realized that we were doing something special.
The decision to seek opinions on your new songs is intriguing. When did you realize that external perspectives could contribute to your creative process?
I’d been wanting to work with Willie Dowling for years. When he agreed to produce part of the album, I was delighted. Usually, I am carrying almost all the weight. Tim adds suggestions every now and again, but usually, everyone plays to my direction. When Willie agreed to produce, it was such a relief to simply allow him to make decisions. I’d already recorded a large portion of the songs that he was going to work on, but I gave him permission to do what he wished because I trust his talent and vision. There were only two or three times that I can recall disagreeing with something that he wanted to do. For example, in ‘Fashioned Footsteps,’ Willie and I sang a backing vocal call and answer in the final chorus. Willie didn’t like it much and had originally mixed it out of the final mix. I asked him to put it back in. He was happy to do so.
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
That is a very interesting question. Like so many artists, I must earn my keep by means other than my art. In my case, I am a full-time psychotherapist. Therefore, I have neither the time nor inclination to devote to marketing and promotion. Still, it would be great if those who would enjoy the album had a chance to hear it.
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?
I think that if you ask most songwriters, “Which is your favorite of your songs,” they would reply, “The last one I wrote.” I believe that there are quite a few songs on this album that are amongst my best. However, this album is a bit darker in tone than previous ones. The melodies tend to be more pleading and longing, and the lyrics tend to reflect the very confusing and frightening times in which we are living. There is a track on the previous album called, ‘I Still See You’ that presages this album in some ways.
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 can appear to be more open than I actually am. If the medium is music, it is a bit easier to shield oneself from that vulnerability. Do I feel hurt when I send the album to, say, BBC Discovery Radio and I don’t hear anything back? Yes, of course I do. Do I feel annoyed? Yes, because I’ve heard what they’d been playing and much of it is, in my opinion, simply not very good.
But I don’t hold those feelings very long. Lyrics, on the other hand, are tougher to disguise. Let me ask you, Patrick, if I did not tell you, would you have guessed that ‘My Invention’ was my attempt to convey what it’s like for me when I feel blocked? Or, would you have guessed that ‘Billy Boy’ is my working through what happened to a relationship that had once been very, very important to me?
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?
Oh, my. When I think of the greatest songwriters of the past 50 years, there are far more than three on my list. How do I whittle it down to three? I’ve already worked with Willie Dowling, one of my favorite songwriters. Elvis Costello would be one. Randy Newman is another. If Pete Ham, Richard Rogers, Cole Porter, Frederic Chopin, or John Lennon were still around, I’d list them, but they aren’t. So, drumroll please, third place must go to Paul McCartney simply because he’s Paul McCartney.
Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?
As my compositions begin in the studio, I can revise until I am satisfied with them. This can occur during the entire process. For example, there is a track on the album called ‘Lost Girl.’ The penultimate chord was, originally, a Db7. I wanted it to be discordant, but that semitone between the Db in the harmony and the D Natural in the melody was more jarring than I wanted. So, as we were mixing, I asked Tim to allow me to replace the Db7, which I did with an Ab6 flat 5. I love that song.
Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?
LOL!! I obviously don’t. Every once in a while, during the making of my albums, I will have a listen to current Alternative, Indie, Pop, etc., to hear if there is anything happening that could add to my ‘sound.’ No matter how open-mindedly I listen, I rarely hear anything that interests me. These songs are getting a great deal of plays and are playlisted on various formats. It really saddens me because I so want to be excited by new music. I recall when The Dowling Poole’s first album was released. I was ecstatic. FINALLY!! There was a beautiful blend of emotion and intellect, tragedy and wit. But alas, even they did not enjoy the success they deserve.
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
I was recently speaking to someone who does a poetry show on his radio spot. I believe that song lyrics should be able to stand alone as poems. In that way, my lyrics usually make more sense in the context of the song. I wrote a song about my fantastical dream life on the second album called, ‘A Song That Some Sing.’ In it, I wrote that ‘Dawn’s waiting for the (pronounced thee) last version of the story, sated inside the choriambus of the wind sound.’
On the new album, I wrote about hearing a voice within me – “through morass I hear the call – ‘Can you hear me? Are you near me? No one’s there at all.’ In a ‘Song for my Father’ I wrote, ‘Was it love that redesigned the lines between us, times we had. Once I sensed you just behind me. Now I’m small and sad. And I miss you, Dad.’ I think most folks can relate to those.
Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?
That’s never happened to me. I’ve had the experience on ‘Sanity Fare’ of writing a song and thinking, “That’s really brilliant.” I’ve also had the experience of weeping after completing a song because I felt so moved by it. (‘I Still See You,’ ‘Lost Girl,’ ‘Run to the Roundhouse’)
While you can’t dictate how people interpret your music, are there specific elements you wish to highlight that set your songs apart?
I think that the melodies, sudden musical left turns, thoughtful lyrics, the complex arrangements, a propensity for writing in a number of different musical styles, and inventive use of backing vocals set my music apart.
A legitimate complaint that I have heard about my music is that a) there is simply too much going on, b) the melodic phrases are far too long, and c) the lyrics are too intellectual. These are legitimate criticisms. But I can only convey who I am in my writing.
If tasked with introducing your music through three songs, which ones would you choose and what story do they collectively convey to new listeners?
Wow! Tough question. Another legitimate complaint about my music is that it doesn’t stick to one style. On the new album, ‘My Invention,’ ‘Watching You Make Love,’ ‘Within This Tragedy,’ and ‘Lost Girl’ are very different in style. So the three songs would have to reflect that. Hmmm. How about, ‘My Invention’ or ‘Billy Boy,’ ‘Gone Where Nobody Can Find Me,’ and ‘I Still See You.’ These would convey versatility, humor, self-reflection, and loss/grief.
In a hypothetical scenario where you could tour with two other bands, who would be your ideal companions and what synergies do you envision?
Can they be acts from any era? The Dowling Poole because we have a lot in common and share values and humor, a love of philosophy, and a love of music. The other band would be the Smothers Brothers of the 1980-90s. No matter how often I see their clips, they still make me laugh.
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
Two of my favorite songwriters, Willie Dowling and Kristian Hoffman have told me repeatedly that I am an amazing songwriter. Michael Bjorn, the music writer, named ‘Who Folds First’ as the best album of 2017. I will never forget that.
Studio moments often hold a touch of magic. Could you recount an instance that stands out as the most enchanting during your creative process?
To be honest, there are so many it is difficult to settle on one or two. During the recording of ‘And Then…The Unthinkable Happened,’ I ran into an old friend, Fran Kowalski. Fran was a great singer and pianist, as well as being a fine songwriter in his own right. I’d not seen Fran for over fifteen years. He’d heard my first album and enjoyed and it, so when I asked if he’d like to sing on the new one, he agreed.
Unfortunately, most of the album was finished by the time Fran got to Wales. Still, he added his glorious voice on backing vocals on ‘I See Something’ and ‘Dancing By Yourself.’ We had a brilliant two days and agreed to work together on the next album. About two months later, Fran passed away while awaiting bypass surgery. Those two days with him in the studio are precious to me.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
I see the music industry sitting in a chair, looking around the room, and saying, “Robert who?” and then going back to whatever it was doing before. If I could make a contribution, it would be to demonstrate that it is okay to compose something that requires a bit from the listener – that art is not a one-way communication. Complexity is not frightening.
My goal has been to make the complex sound simple, and I believe that I have accomplished that now and again. I would like the listener to become a participant instead of a consumer of folderol without the need to consider what has just been consumed.
Envision recruiting three singers to provide harmony vocals on your next record. Who would you invite, and what qualities do they possess that resonate with you?
If Harry Nilsson were still alive, he’d be one of them. Andy Sturmer, PP Arnold, Jacob Collier, and Kevin Godley, perhaps? They all have a great range and a beautiful tone to their voice. Additionally, they can hear the interplay of different parts in multi-part backing vocals.
With the record completed and the music released, do you believe the pinnacle of enjoyment has been reached, or is this just the beginning of an exciting phase?
The most stressful part of releasing music is the post-mastering process, when there’s artwork to await and choices to be made about distribution between the lesser of many evils. Then, about two months after the release, I return to the album and listen for the first time. Even during the mastering process, I am listening, deciding the time between songs and cross-fades. So I do not actually hear the completed work for the first time until 45-60 days after release.
In the case of ‘Sanity Fare,’ I listened to it completely for the first time on Friday, November 2nd. That is the wonderful part. If I return to it in a few years, that also feels wonderful. But generally, I feel ready to make more music.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
Believe it or not, I am still dealing with Tim’s tremendous popularity! In all fairness, Tim is a remarkable engineer, and his studio is very, very well-kitted out (Sonic One Studio in Wales). Therefore, he is in high demand. I have some time booked in January when I will begin working on album number five. “Time With Tim” would be a great album title, but I fear it’s been used.
Can you take us through the creative journey of bringing this album to life? What were the key milestones, challenges, and breakthroughs you experienced along the way?
There were some issues that made the making of ‘Who Folds First’ quite exhausting for me. As I mentioned, this, plus the pandemic, made getting started rather difficult. It wasn’t until the Autumn of 2021 that I began to see something taking shape. At that time, I was aware that I still needed another two compositions to complete the album. There were two songs that I just wasn’t getting anywhere with, so I dropped them at this time. Over the next eight months, I managed to get some much-needed time with Tim and so finished the composing aspect of the album. The next push came when Willie agreed to work with me.
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?
Willie brought a sonic awareness to this album that I don’t think we had on the previous albums. While Willie and I share a taste for similar sounds and instrumentations, Willie likes to create moods with effects and choices of sounds. I can think of two examples from ‘Sanity Fare.’ One is in ‘Fashioned Footsteps’, where Willie took my Wurlitzer piano part and added an effect, a reverb that sounds backward. It brings an eeriness to the song during the first verse, where I sing, “I walk along kicking leftovers from the sands of Southerndown Beach.” Southerndown Beach is at the foot of a cliff that’s about 400 meters high. This is a spot where numerous suicides have taken place over the years, and I use that beach for that reason. The effect on the piano adds to the despair of the verse. The other example is in ‘Billy Boy’ during the second verse where I sing, “Past the wood into the neighborhood, there we are walking, talking, you to me.” This is obviously a memory that I am mentally seeing. Willie added a synth there that brings the feel of looking back through the haze of time front and center.
I also was aware that ‘Who Folds First’ was, in the words of Christian Philips of Sonic Executive Sessions, a “veritable chord-fest.” This caused my brother Jack to drop out of the project, complaining that he couldn’t get a feel for the songs and that they had “too many chords.” Most of the participants on ‘Sanity Fare’ would laugh hysterically if they were told that I tried to make the album less complicated. But I did.
With this fresh collection of songs, how do you envision connecting with both your existing fanbase and new listeners? Are there specific emotions or messages you hope they’ll resonate with?
I honestly wish that I knew how I might connect with new listeners. I get some attention in ‘Power Pop’ circles, but I’m sure that you will agree that I don’t nestle nicely into that bed. Prog has been suggested as another possible genre, but I don’t fit there well either. Add to this my propensity for having songs such as ‘Watching You Make Love,’ ‘Intermezzo,’ and ‘Lost Girl’ on the album, and, well, you see the dilemma. These days, people like to categorize, to place things in containers marked ‘X’ or ‘Y.’
How do I offer a song that gives a good representation of the Blood Rush Hour?
As far as listeners resonating with the album, I believe that there is much to choose from. I think most can resonate with struggling to move forward (‘Within This Tragedy’), self-doubt and self-recrimination (‘Fashioned Footsteps’), finding oneself back in the same or similar circumstances that we thought we’d be well enough to avoid (‘Here We Go Again’), emotionally floored by a change in our partner that we did not see coming (‘(No More) Happy Ending’), or meeting an ex a number of years after a very difficult breakup (‘See You Again’). I suppose these are all human experiences.
In my experience, Patrick, when someone listens to one of my songs, they tend to project their own meaning onto it, which is great. I recall receiving a message from a young woman in Canada after I released the first album. She couldn’t believe it, she said, that I would write a song that would capture her feelings so accurately. She was referring to the song, ‘Delme.’ She went on to tell me that she had a relationship with a man called Delme and that Delme had to return to his home country (the U.K.) and my song captured how she felt about her despair about losing him. I wrote ‘Delme’ about a friend who died unexpectedly while I was on holiday. But my Canadian friend got something completely different out of it. That’s okay by me.
Albums often involve collaboration with various musicians and producers. Could you shed light on how these collaborations contributed to shaping the album’s identity?
I’ve already commented on Willie’s contribution as a producer/engineer. Tim’s contributions are also immense. His engineering and editing skills are beyond belief. In effect, Tim is really my co-producer. With technology, as it is, people can make contributions from anywhere in the world. Unfortunately, circumstances and physical injury prevented Peter Tomlinson from playing or singing on ‘Sanity Fare.’ I was, however, constantly in touch with him during the recording, sending him rough mixes and asking for feedback. Peter is always willing to be honest. But his injuries meant that Tim and Willie did the lion’s share of the guitar work on the album. Todd Shuster (Cherry Fez) played on ‘Billy Boy’ and something else. Brother Jack played on ‘Watching You Make Love’ and another one or two. Most of the instrumentation was played by Willie, Tim, and me.
One difference between Tim’s and Willie’s engineering is that Tim prefers to use sampled percussion, such as wood blocks, tambourines, etc. Willie prefers to have me play them live. This is nowhere more evident than in the middle of ‘Billy Boy’ where I sing, “At the start of June time…” where you can hear the percussion is real. With the drummers, I chose to use Mal Limit again, but Willie wanted to use the drummer he uses, Darby Todd. Both are great, so there is no problem there. You can hear the difference in the snare drum. Darby’s is not as deep as it is tuned a bit higher. ‘Whap!’ Mal’s is a deep snare that produces a real ‘whop!’
I was joking with Scott Evans the other day that it seems as though over the past few years, I have given him the lead vocal job on songs that were the most difficult to sing. He does a brilliant job on both songs, which feature his lead vocal, ‘Here We Go Again’ and ‘Tunnel’s End.’ As an interesting aside, Willie is fairly adept at doing impersonations. When working on ‘Tunnel’s End,’ Willie decided that he really wanted to have a lead vocal harmony. Normally when we do this, we ask whoever sang the lead to sing the harmony with themselves. We tend to blend with ourselves much better than we do with others. But Scott was in New Jersey and Willie was in France, and Willie wanted to finish the song and the mix, so he did his best Scott impersonation for the lead vocal harmony. I think it is wonderful. Joseph J. Tobias, Jr. has a wonderful voice, and he used it to its full capacity in the two songs that he sang, ‘No One’s There (At All)’ and ‘Waves Set in Motion.’ Beautifully done.
I’m fortunate to have access to the services of Andrew Griffiths, the human horn section. Andrew played trumpet, trombone, baritone trombone, alto, tenor, and baritone saxes, and recorder on ‘Sanity Fare.’ I adore his trombone solo in ‘Watching You Make Love.’
In the digital age, visual elements are intertwined with music. How did you approach the album’s visual aesthetics, such as album art and accompanying visuals? How do they complement the sonic experience you’ve crafted?
There aren’t too many accompanying visuals, unfortunately. I wish that I had the time to do that. I hired a small company in Scotland who did the Dowling Poole’s last two videos to do a video for ‘Within This Tragedy.’ It uses the graphics from the CD cover and back cover to create the visual. I think that they did a great job.
The title came to me late in the process. Looking for inspiration, I happened upon the 100 books that everyone should read. This led to a giggle-fest with Willie as we went through the titles, changing them slightly, such as ‘War and Peas and Carrots,’ or ‘Crepes of Wrath,’ ‘Freight Expectations,’ ‘Grime and Furnishment,’ ‘The Sale of Two Titties,’ and suchlike. But then I saw ‘Vanity Fair,’ and the giggles left the room. ‘Sanity Fare,’ the price of trying to stay sane in this crazy world, suddenly began to glow inside my head.
My cover designs have historically been slightly or very humorous, so this was no exception. The crew on the right-hand side of the cover are ensconced in the culture. They watch as this man, naked and desperate, runs and flees his entrapment. The man doesn’t know where he’s going; he knows only that he must get away from where he has been.
Earlier, I mentioned that the melodies and lyrics on this album carry a great deal of longing, a desire to not end up “here again.” Such is the message of the artwork.
The enchanting jangle pop from the German band The Radio Field is a harmonious blend of bittersweet melodies with a subtle, at times, twangy undertone.
Sweet Sweet Music blog recently interviewed Lars Schmidt, delving into his journey of crafting new songs solo, occasionally with his eleven-year-old drumming son’s assistance, and the evolution of The Radio Field from a solo project to a full-fledged band.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
The Radio Field started as my home recording project during the pandemic. When the first EP came out last year, reactions were amazing, and among other great things that happened, my old friends, Mark and Christoph came up with the idea to form a real band. I had some of the songs for the album already written at the time; the rest was completed in a few days, using ideas I had collected when jamming at home with my youngest son (age 11) on drums. The overall approach to our music is to keep things simple and capture these first, unbiased ideas that jump at us when a song is new. So we started recording Mark’s drums during our second practice; other instruments and vocals were recorded individually in our home studios as we live in different places (Cologne, Berlin, and Düsseldorf), and so were the many guest musicians. Christoph did the mixing in his studio, and my bandmate Kai from Subterfuge did the mastering. I never completed an album faster or simpler.
If tasked with introducing your music through three songs, which ones would you choose and what story do they collectively convey to new listeners?
Clover, our album opener, is what came out of my attempt to write a bittersweet blueprint jangle pop love song to a girl. The Version is storytelling indie pop with a verve to have some fun in between all the melancholia. Love is the grant opulent final of the record, a homage to love in all its shapes and sizes.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
Frankly, we do not see ourselves as part of any industry. We do whatever we can ourselves (recording, label, video production, artwork), and almost everyone we collaborate with are DIY people. There are no profits involved for anyone; it’s all for the love of this kind of music and to have some fun in our spare time. The best part is that there is an International alliance of like-minded folks in bands, blogs, venues, and radio stations that keep the ball rolling despite what the zeitgeist may be at any given time.
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?
Writing music is a great outlet for me; it truly helps to deal with things more easily, write them into a song, and close the chapter. While the music, of course, is passing on a certain mood to the listener, I think it usually does not go much deeper. It’s my impression that hardly anyone gets into the lyrics, which helps to not feel very vulnerable in the end.
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
There was good press for the album, and lots of nice quotes that really meant a lot to us. My favorite ones would be from Visions (one of the largest print magazines for alternative music over here: “Music by The Radio Field is bigger than the sum of its parts”), Rheinische Post (our local daily paper: “Sounds wonderful, just like Teenage Fanclub with members of Slowdive and The Pastels recording for a resurrected Sarah Record”) and Daggerzine Blog (“makes you go to the top of a mountain and scream for joy. It’s that good”).
Envision recruiting three singers to provide harmony vocals on your next record. Who would you invite, and what qualities do they possess that resonate with you?
Recruiting completed. We have quite a few guest vocalists on our album, which was a wonderful experience; we will surely continue with future recordings. It’s always a bit of a gamble when you send away a song for another creative person to sing on it. In our case, it perfectly worked out, and each time the recording came back, it felt like Christmas Eve. Federica of the Phantom Handshakes elevated our song “Other One” with her heavenly, fragile voice; Robert Stadlober (a known German actor and old friend with his band Gary) sang 5 different, spontaneous, very anarchistic backing tracks to choose from for “The Version” and Stephanie Schrank invented a perfect new harmony line for the chorus of “Clover”.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
Excitingly, we will be playing in Bologna, Italy still this year. This is our first international gig and actually a premier for me in any of my bands to play in a non-German-speaking country. In January, we will start working on new songs for the next album.
Suddenly, The Jacks make a reappearance, offering five fantastic new songs in an EP released by Mega Dodo. All these songs were recorded between September 2021 and February 2023. However, if you told me they were recorded between September 1976 and February 1978, I wouldn’t doubt it either. In fact, it might have even felt more authentic. To any Power Pop enthusiast, this is the ultimate compliment.
Mitch Griffin shares the story of how one thing led to another.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
After the Jacks compilation had come out in early 2021, Walter and I began a back-and-forth about other songs we could look at recording. “I’ll Always Love You” was the last new tune we had in our setlist back in Cleveland, OH in the Summer of 1978 when we performed as Tulsa Jacks. Oddly enough, it was a song that was forgotten until we brought it up. The only existing performance of this song is by a post-Tulsa Jacks group, The Debonaires. Walter, me, and future Jacks bass player, Stan Lukken on Vox organ. John Bewley, who figures in the whole pre-Jacks history going back to 1971, plays bass. There is a raucous live tape of the performance from March 1979. So, that song became agenda item number 1. “Where I Should Be Now” was another “lost” tune from Walter. Now we had two whole songs! We then took a look at what we already had in the archive. That archive was built from the work on the Reminder Record label compilation, “Make ’em Cry.” The great Jerry Casey tune, “Help Yourself,” was then mixed and included. Another “lost” track was excavated, Walter’s “Touch And Go For Broke.” This was a song that had no vocals, just guitars, bass, and drums. I replaced the drum part and did most of the vocals. Fun song, kind of a windup! Thanks to modern technology, we were able to finish the song. The CD was not our first choice; we wanted to press a vinyl version, but we felt that getting the music out was foremost. That said, I felt that we needed a “bonus” track. So here it is. Tulsa Jacks with Walter on guitar and “heavy friends” from the “Walter’s Vacation” cassette. Remixed and mastered.
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
Well, this was some time ago when an instrumental version of “Let’s Lie” was included in the compilation, “Barefoot and Pregnant.” The Village Voice music critic, Robert Christgau, called our song at that time the “best post-Beatle instrumental.” This song eventually had vocals by the time the cassette was released.
Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds an indelible place in your memory and why does it stand out?
One of the most memorable gigs for The Jacks, at that time called Tulsa Jacks, would be in August of 1978 at the legendary club, The Longhorn, in Minneapolis, Minnesota. We were based out of Cleveland, Ohio at the time. We were there as part of a package featuring two bands from Cleveland, us and The Pagans. We played two nights, a Wednesday and a Thursday. What made it stand out was that we received a much warmer reception than the “headliner,” The Pagans. We found a readymade audience that appreciated our performance. Less than two years later, I would move to Minneapolis.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
Can you take us through the creative journey of bringing this album to life? What were the key milestones, challenges, and breakthroughs you experienced along the way? This EP was started in the throes of the COVID epidemic. The challenges are always many when the principals are living 700 miles apart. This, of course, is not unique when it comes to Walter and me. Our 1982 cassette-only tape, “Walter’s Vacation,” was created in some way the same. I was in Oklahoma, September 2021, where we did the guide track for “I’ll Always Love You.” It was very crudely recorded. Walter’s guitar and my 3rd drumset that I cobbled together and carted down to the studio of Jerry Casey in Broken Arrow. We did three takes. Take one was the “one”! Mind you, this was the first time Walter and I had played together since 1991. It was magical. Through the wonderful technology of today, I was able to eliminate my drum track and retain Walter’s guitar part. I re-recorded my drums in my studio in Minneapolis. This was the most successful in regards to being in disparate locales.
American abstract artist and Hawk bandleader, David Hawkins, is set to unveil his third album with the orchestral art-rock supergroup Be, titled “Here.” This captivating release draws inspiration from The Beach Boys’ timeless “Pet Sounds” and is a heartfelt dedication to Brian Wilson. However, listeners can also discern hints of mystical Beatles psychedelia and the intertwined hum of The Velvet Underground among its many influences.
The album “Here” features an impressive lineup of rock luminaries, including Morgan Fisher (known for his work with Mott the Hoople and Queen), Paul Von Mertens (Brian Wilson’s musical director), the legendary drummer Pete Thomas (renowned for his collaborations with Elvis Costello and Elliott Smith), and guest vocals by Gary Louris of the Jayhawks, among others. Notably, the album was mastered and co-mixed by Mike Hagler, who has worked with artists such as Wilco, My Morning Jacket, and Mekons.
David Hawkins shares the story of how “Here” came to be.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
I wrote most of the album in the fraught early days of the pandemic. Making music has always been kind of therapeutic for me, so when lockdown started I dove deep into recording – as a way to sort through some of those emotions, to go inside myself, and to get away from the news cycle.
I had been listening to Pet Sounds a lot (it’s always been kind of a balm and a place of refuge for me since I was a teenager) and I was moved to tears listening to it one day after reading all the terrible news. The yearning and emotion in Brian’s music was so powerful that it made me want to try to build an altar to it – with my own songs, but influenced by Brian’s arrangements and musical vocabulary.
I spent months crafting the songs – experimenting with different instrument combinations and honing the details. I really went down the rabbit hole – it was so engrossing and cathartic. I would do a lot of my musical parts first and then send it to my friend Randy Morris in Taos, NM to add drums and he would send it back and we’d dive into the next one. (As I went deeper into it, other influences, like the Velvet Underground and the Beatles Indian songs, became apparent.)
Once we had the basic tracks done, I would add more instrument and vocal tracks myself and then send the song to the others (Morgan Fisher in Tokyo, Paul Von Mertens (Brian Wilson Band’s Musical Director) in Chicago, Pete Thomas (Elvis Costello’s drummer) here in LA, Matthew Pittman and Regan Souders – with notes on what I was thinking, and they would record their parts, which I would then incorporate into the mixes as we went. Over time it evolved into a rich, orchestrated work. No one can make music like Brian, so I realize even mentioning him sets it up to pale in comparison, but it’s my way of honoring how much his music has meant to me.
And I’ve never spent this much time making – and mixing – an album before. My good friend Mike Hagler (Wilco, My Morning Jacket) co-mixed the album with me and mastered it. There were so many instrument and vocal tracks that it took us weeks to finally hone it down to a final mix we were happy with and master it. It was really a labor of love (in the best possible way), and it came right when we all needed something to focus on. The music kind of helped us get through that difficult time – and we had so much fun making it. I’ll never forget it.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
We knew from the feeling we had when we were making it that it was something special (at least to us – hopefully to others too). It was such an extraordinary time anyway, and I think the stress and isolation of lockdown made making music even more therapeutic than usual. It felt almost nourishing; like an emotional sustenance or something. The others felt the same way – it really gave us an outlet when we needed it most.
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?
When I started making music, it was purely a personal / spiritual thing; it wasn’t intended to be public. But my girlfriend at the time really liked my songs and ended up sharing them with (Chicago powerhouse) WXRT and some clubs, and it started getting played and I got asked to play live, so it just kind of started rolling from there. So yeah, it’s a journey of finding comfort with sharing it, for sure. I love making music so much and I guess I’m getting used to sharing it – vulnerability and all – because after every release I hear from people about how the songs have touched them somehow or made them feel something, and that makes it feel like it’s worth sharing. It completes the cycle somehow.
With the record completed and the music released, do you believe the pinnacle of enjoyment has been reached, or is this just the beginning of an exciting phase?
It’s all exciting to me, but I think the big moments for me are when I first write each song – that’s a sacred moment – and again when we finish mixing and mastering the album. By the time an album gets released, I’ve usually moved on in my mind – musically anyway – to the next project.
For me, the doing of it and the making of the songs and records is the thing. Sharing it is really fun too – and the completion of the process, but when I started making music it was mainly for myself, and it still is. Once I’ve captured the song and finished it, that’s the success to me. Like now, I’m in the midst of working on the next album. It’s fun to see everyone’s response, and to re-experience the record through them, but the writer part of me has already moved on.
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
I think one of my favorite compliments was one of the simplest & straightforward ones I’ve ever gotten. I was at Lollapalooza and this guy in the bleachers recognized me from a show we (my other band, Hawk) had just played at the Double Door (club) and he got really excited and started screaming really loud “Dude!! You ROCK!!!” And told his friends “that’s that guy I was telling you about!” You ROCK man!!! Everyone was trying to figure out who he was yelling about and it turned out to be ME! (laughs). My friends thought that was really cool. It was hilarious and it took me by surprise, but it made me feel good, like we were really getting through to people. Music is so powerful that way and I’m really grateful to be able to do it. Thanks for listening everyone, and we’ll see you out on the road!
Duncan Reid has officially entered the world of retirement. Just before embarking on this new chapter of his life, he graced us with a final musical gem, fittingly named ‘And It’s Goodbye From Him.’ This remarkable album serves as a poignant conclusion to a rich and illustrious career. Sweet Sweet Music blog recently had the privilege of conversing with Duncan, setting aside his extensive career, which could easily fill the pages of an encyclopedia, to focus on the resounding success of ‘And It’s Goodbye From Him.’
Could you please share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
During lockdown, I published a daily video diary where I wrote a song from scratch. It’s the most popular blog I’ve ever published, and it’s worth taking a look at here because it pretty much shows the process by which I write all my songs. I start with little snippets of tunes I’ve sung into my phone (if I don’t capture them right away, they’re gone forever), putting the clips together like a jigsaw puzzle, and then building them up in my home studio.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
Every album is a journey through insecurity; “Will this be good enough?” is my constant companion. But every time, as we get closer to completion and especially during the final mix, I’ve thought, “This is great,” and for a month afterward, it’s like a newborn baby that you can’t stop looking at. Even if no one else heard them, it would be worth making my albums for the enjoyment they give me.
But you don’t know until it’s out there whether it’s any good, and this time, the reception has been universally unanimous. Everybody loves the album and has said it’s the best thing to come out of my career. That makes me so happy.
The decision to seek opinions on your new songs is intriguing. When did you realize that external perspectives could contribute to your creative process?
Finishing the demos in my home studio is as, if not more, exciting than recording the actual master. So I love to play my new songs to friends and family. I think I’ve only changed a song once as a result though, which is when I played the precursor of “C’mon Josephine” to Andrew Matheson (previous singer in The Hollywood Brats and writer of the highly recommended book “Sick on You”). He correctly said, “No, no, no. The song’s too long, and the lyrics are miserable.” He sent new lyrics and told me where to cut the song. He turned the song into the uplifting success it is.
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
I’ve retired, so the record is already successful for me with all the praise it’s received. I don’t need it to build a career or anything like that, which is a very happy place to be.
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?
That is the classic “Which of your children is your favorite” question 😊 Really, it’s not for me to say. Everyone has a different opinion as to what is my best song, and they are all right!
But I’m very, very proud of “Would I Lie to You” because of its craft. It’s unlike anything else I’ve written – deliberately. A waltz inspired by 1930s German cabaret with an incredible arrangement. I feel it demonstrates that I can write anything if I want to.
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?
There’s been a long tradition of writers from Ray Davies through Ian Hunter to even Abba and Taylor Swift who have used their own emotions and life as the material for songs. I’m very much in that tradition, although I’ve also written songs like “It’s Going so Well,” which are made-up stories.
But my own life is a constant source of rich song material. It sometimes takes bravery and honesty to use it. When I first started playing my own songs live, I thought, “Are people going to find it soppy when I sing about my children?”
In fact, most of the audience has children as well, and they connect with it. I thought long and hard about “Lost Again,” the song that describes my thoughts when I discovered I’m autistic. Did I want the world to know that? But it didn’t take long to decide: “Why not.” It was life-changing for me, and hopefully, describing my journey will help others.
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?
Paul McCartney. I’m so in awe of his talent. There’s so much I’d want to learn from him: songwriting craft, backing vocals – the lot. But the man who once wrote stunning lyrics like Lady Madonna, Fool on the Hill, Eleanor Rigby, Penny Lane, For No One, Another Day…etc., hasn’t written a great lyric in years. I could do that for him.
Peter Green. “Man of the World” is the saddest song ever written, and, like Otis Redding, I feel Peter Green was on the edge of true greatness when his talent was ripped away. Imagine working with that guitar artistry and arranging ability if he hadn’t taken the fateful tab of acid which fried his mind.
Mutt Lange: from the Boomtown Rats through Def Leppard and Shania Twain, he’s had the ability to get the best out of writers and make their records sound amazing. It would be interesting to hear what he would do to mine.
Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds an indelible place in your memory, and why does it stand out?
There have been so many, but playing the Clash City Rockers bar in Montevideo, Uruguay, is one of them. We opened with “Montevideo,” and the place went wild. They never stopped. As usual, it was a late night there.
Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?
Can’t tell you. It’s a bit like an elephant. You can’t describe it, but you know it when you see it.
Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?
I don’t. I write and record for myself, doing exactly what I want to satisfy myself and not worrying about the rest.
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
My favorite lines I’ve written are the funny ones. Like from “To Live or Live Not”:
“Gonna catch the first plane to Caracas, why go somewhere that’s way too safe, gonna find a girl who plays maracas, gonna ask her out with all her mates.”
Or from “It’s Going So Well”:
“I had a bet on the horses, which all ran like tortoises” – I am so proud of that rhyme! 😊
But overall, I’m very proud of my lyrics, and I think there are many deep ones. Singing with the Beach Boys on the last album is touching and clever, I believe. “That’s Just the Way It Is” about the dancing man of Hamilton is another. There’s plenty for people to sink their teeth into.
Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?
No, I never have. The popular taste left me way behind years ago. I’ve written many songs that should have been hits but won’t be because I hate the modern “hit” sound. It’s soulless, but then I sound like my dad!
With the resurgence of cassettes, imagine curating your inaugural mixtape. Which five songs would be must-adds and why?
“God Only Knows” – The Beach Boys. So achingly beautiful with the Beach Boys’ backing vocals. The first hit to have God in the title. Revolutionary in middle America at the time.
“Wicked Games” – Chris Isaak. The reverb and atmosphere! I’ve tried to recreate it but failed.
“Happiness” – Goldfrapp. I think synths are great. This is a great tune and a great arrangement. I’d like to tinker with the lyrics. It could be much better.
“I Wanna Be Sedated” – The Ramones. Has to be one Ramones song at least, and this is one of their best.
“Mama We’re All Crazy Now” – Slade. Takes me back to when I was 13. What a live band.
Performing music before an audience holds a unique allure. What aspects of this experience contribute to the excitement and enjoyment for you?
It’s hard to explain, but I feel audiences, and when you are good, you can feel you are good from the wave of enjoyment coming back from them. It’s like nothing else. I’ve spoken to footballers who describe the adrenaline rush of the crowd going wild when they score a goal. It’s like a steady, longer, more drawn-out version of that. The feeling of a collective smile.
The other side of the coin is when you are bad; it feels like the air escaping from a punctured tire!
While you can’t dictate how people interpret your music, are there specific elements you wish to highlight that set your songs apart?
Someone today said my songs are dark but funny. I’m not sure I agree, but there is a lot of humor in them.
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
I only heard this years later, but TV Smith told my friend Vom Ritchie (Drummer with Die Toten Hosen) after I left The Boys, “You can replace a bass player, but you can’t replace a Duncan.” I was so touched by that, as we are all always seeking validation for what we do.
Studio moments often hold a touch of magic. Could you recount an instance that stands out as the most enchanting during your creative process?
Again, there are so many, but I remember one because it was recent. There’s a track on the last album called “The Gilded Cage.” While we were mixing it, producer Dave Draper stuck a single, low, huge grand piano note at the very end of the intro. It was like a thousand volts of electricity going up my spine. It transformed the part. I named it “the note of genius” and insisted he repeated it elsewhere in the song, including at the very end. Incidents like that are magic.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
There aren’t many who sit in that power-pop-punk space. Too pop for punk and too punk for pop. It’s lonely at times, but I like it.
Envision recruiting three singers to provide harmony vocals on your next record. Who would you invite, and what qualities do they possess that resonate with you?
Brian Wilson, Paul McCartney, and Freddie Mercury. Now, what would those backing vocal geniuses come up with? A total mess probably! 😊
With the record completed and the music released, do you believe the pinnacle of enjoyment has been reached, or is this just the beginning of an exciting phase?
It’s the end of the end. Maybe one day, a toilet roll advertiser will realize what a genius I am, and a song will be broadcast to the world that will make millions rush to Spotify to listen to more, and I’ll earn £25.49. You never know?
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
Last summer, while enjoying my holiday in Norway, I had the pleasure of rediscovering “Moonflower Plastic.” After countless listens, my craving for something new was at its peak, and my wish was promptly answered. “Demos And Outtakes 2” had just been released, featuring 28 unreleased demos, live recordings, and alternate versions of songs spanning Tobin Sprout’s musical journey from his first solo album, “Carnival Boy” (1997), to his latest LP, “Empty Horses” (2020). Tobin Sprout, the former Guided By Voices guitarist and co-songwriter, guides you on a mesmerizing, dazzling, and delightfully unpredictable tour through his musical history.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
The project began as a compilation of songs I had accumulated over the years. Some were newer ones that didn’t initially resonate with me, while others were discoveries from cassette tapes from my days with GBV and my early solo career, such as the Carnival Boy demo. I continued to stumble upon songs that had been shelved or forgotten over time, and I added them to this collection. I also included piano versions of songs. From time to time, I’d listen to them and realize they had a life of their own. I saw no reason to re-record them, so I started arranging them in an order that appealed to me, and it ultimately became “Demos Two.” I condensed it down to two LPs.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
There were moments, or I should say, there were moments. I distinctly recall revisiting some songs and wondering why I had discarded them, like “The Boy Who Knew Too Much.” It must have been written during a bad mood or something. When I rediscovered it and listened again, I was genuinely surprised as to why I had tossed it. Others were simply experiments that I didn’t feel fit or wasn’t satisfied with at the time, but later, I wondered why. Most of the piano versions were also experiments, exploring how the song transformed with just piano and vocals.
Success can take on different meanings as time passes. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
Initially, when I assembled this LP, I saw it as something akin to a bootleg. Consequently, I didn’t include much beyond the cover and LPs. However, I believe it has evolved into something more than that. I’ve seen people express interest and curiosity about the origins and history of these songs, such as how, when, and where they were recorded. Therefore, I plan to compile information about each song, accompanied by one or two demos that didn’t make it onto the album.
Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds a lasting place in your memory, and why does it stand out?
The performance in Toronto, Canada, on November 18, 2021, at The Monarch Tavern, stands out prominently. The entire tour had its share of challenges, with venues reopening after the Covid pandemic. Crossing into Canada required extra effort, but the show was sold out, and I heard it might have even been oversold. The venue was packed, and the energy of people emerging from lockdown lifted everyone’s spirits. The night flowed seamlessly, and we had hit our stride, being well into the tour. It was an incredibly enjoyable, warm, and exciting evening. The audience was fantastic to perform for—positive, responsive, and jubilant. Additionally, the room had excellent acoustics. I often reflect on that particular show.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
I’ve recently released “Demos and Outtakes Two” on my label, Petrified Fish, and in collaboration with David Newgarden’s label, Persona Non Grata. We are finalizing an EP of my daughter’s, which will also be released on Petrified Fish, and an LP of my son’s, also slated for release on Petrified Fish. Furthermore, I’m in the process of writing songs for a Bevil Web EP, which will be followed up by a solo LP at some point.
I’ve also reissued my children’s book, “Elliott.” The book had gone out of print with the original publisher, but I regained the rights to “Elliott.” I’ve given it a fresh look with a new cover and additional artwork. Alongside my musical pursuits, I’m still actively engaged in painting and other art projects. I’ve been experimenting with AI, incorporating my artwork and observing how it transforms and reinterprets it. It’s fascinating and somewhat unsettling at times, but AI is an enduring presence, so it’s worth exploring its potential and direction in the art world. Art remains one of the few realms where AI can’t replicate the originality of human hands on canvas, and that’s a testament to the uniqueness of artistic creation.
On November 3rd, anticipate the release of “In The Black,” the latest album by The Lunar Laugh, courtesy of Big Stir Records. Already gracing our ears is the enchanting single “Born Weird.” The band’s musical prowess has been on display across three albums, and this one, the fourth, stands out as their finest effort yet.
However, their consistent excellence across their discography has always been a delightful feast for the ears. Don’t take their talent for granted; The Lunar Laugh deserves your undivided attention. Mark November 3rd on your calendar and set a reminder to have “new The Lunar Laugh on Repeat.”
In a recent exchange, Jared Lekites shed light on The Lunar Laugh’s exciting new journey and what lies ahead.
With this fresh collection of songs, how do you envision connecting with both your existing fan base and new listeners? Are there specific emotions or messages you hope they’ll resonate with?
I would hope our fan base isn’t the type to expect a certain type of sound from us. I do think that our fans expect a certain level of quality in our work that we take the time to build from the ground up. Overall, I would hope what comes across in the new songs is that we enjoyed making them. Our last studio album was in 2019, so we also wanted to make sure it was an album worth waiting that long to hear.
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?
“Stranger Than Oz” is probably my favorite of the songs I wrote on this album. I would rank it among my personal best work. I also think “Born Weird” and “So So Long” might be the best co-writes I have had the pleasure of sharing.
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?
If we are talking in the realm of famous and well-known, I’d love to work with Annie Clark, AKA St. Vincent, because I love how she structures, or rather de-structures her songs. Harry Styles because I truly dig his songs, and I would be happy to help in his fledgling career in the music business. I’d also like to work with Willow Smith, who has a lot of talent and I am super impressed by. I am trying to stick with writers that I feel have more of a youthful appeal. But I’d also be up for writing with Paul McCartney in the worst way.
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
When we played a show in Burbank a while back, Stephen Kalinich happened to be in the crowd. I made it a point to go up to him and introduce myself after the show, and I, of course, told him how big a fan I am of his work, particularly with Dennis Wilson of The Beach Boys. I named “A Time To Live In Dreams” and “Little Bird” as two favorites. Without a blink, he was quick to tell me that he loved my song “Work In Progress.” That blew my mind. This guy is a genuine poet who has walked alongside giants in the business. I will never forget the grace he showed to me in that moment.
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
There are a few on this album, but there is one line in “Born Weird” that says, “Influencers you follow will fall out of style and wind up as dust collectors on a shelf.” It was actually a line that I had written in one of my older legal pads from around the time I was writing the songs that wound up on the Mama’s Boy album. I like it when you go back to something you wrote a while ago, and it has seemingly more significance now than it did then. That happened again in the song “Picture Perfect.” Campbell and I wrote that before the pandemic and before my father and brother passed away. But the lyrics took on a completely different bend by the time we reached the end of making the album. It was a bit prophetic in an odd way.
On November 17th, Stomp Records (US) and Beluga Records (EU) will release ‘Music That Humans Can Play’ by Autogramm, a synth-driven power-pop band hailing from Seattle, Chicago, and Vancouver.
A synth-driven power-pop band? Yes, you will hear influences from class acts like The Cars, The Go-Go’s, Gary Numan, 20/20, and Devo.
The release of the album was far from guaranteed; CC Voltage elucidates the process behind it.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
It was almost never meant to be. We had been considering ending the band in 2022. Jiffy had gotten sick of playing keys/guitar and being the lead singer, and we weren’t sure what we were going to do. We had kind of lost steam over the pandemic, and everyone was doing new bands or jobs, having kids, etc. The idea of bringing Lars from Bread & Butter into the band came up, and everyone got very excited again. Fresh blood! We shared about 12 songs with each other between Chicago, Seattle, and Vancouver and then literally learned all of them the week before we hit the studio. A couple didn’t make the cut, and a couple were written on the plane while Josh was flying from Chicago. We laid them all down at a great studio in Vancouver during a heatwave. I remember more about the barbeques, my newborn daughter, and our beach hangouts than I do about the recording itself!
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
I think we had the fear of looking like a tacky 80’s revivalist band, or worse just a crappy cover band. Our drummer, The Silo, has a couple studios and loads of vintage gear, so it wasn’t hard for him to dial in a very authentic sounding dynamic for us. We also started the band being very selective about the influences we tried to emulate. I feel like the moment we started doing shows and releasing music was the moment that I realized we were onto something. People really gravitated to it. I think we pulled it off our original vision for the most part!
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
Success has never meant more than a free vacation to me. I love to get out and meet new people anywhere in the world. If my band offers me that opportunity, then I think it’s totally successful. I guess as I get older, I start thinking about the royalties more, and those have been better with this band. I mean, it doesn’t put food on the table, but maybe a nice dinner out once in a while!
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?
Well, this is kind of happening right now. I have a project for a kids’ album in the works with the drummer of Tricky Woo (if you don’t know, you should listen to the album “Sometimes I Cry”) and the drummer from Bread & Butter. I’m excited to get this started, but it’s been taking a long time to actually put it in motion. Everyone is busy with bands and families, and side projects are getting harder and harder to commit to. Seems like the world is twice as busy as it used to be.
Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds an indelible place in your memory, and why does it stand out?
I think playing in Bilbao in 2004 was the high point in my music career. I had rejoined the Black Halos, and we were invited to play Bilbao Rock Accion just before Danzig on a Saturday night. It was INSANE. I can’t tell you the stories publicly, but I certainly got to experience the excesses of rock and roll on that trip! Haha. That was the last time I got to see Kike (RIP) of Safety Pin Records. He was a champ, and I miss him.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
We have a tour that’s being booked for March 2024 in Europe. Get in touch with Wild Wax Tours if you wanna see us in your town! wildwaxtours@gmx.de
Sweet Sweet Music Blog 