Trademark Issues is a long-distance band composed of Gary Hornseth and Mitch Armbruster. Despite their successful collaboration, they’ve only spoken directly twice. However, they’ve been creating great music together for quite some time. Their fifth album, Change This Face, kicks off with the aptly titled and irresistibly catchy track “Welcome To Album Five,” which is sure to be the funniest opening song you’ll hear this week. The album features eleven clever pop songs that draw comparisons to The Posies and evoke the pleasantly rattling style of The Front Bottoms. As they continue to evolve, their music only gets better. It’s time for a more comprehensive introduction.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
We’re a long-distance band in every way, living in Minnesota and North Carolina, 1,200 miles apart. We met at an arts event in Boston in 2019 and started collaborating through messaging and file sharing. This led to our first album in 2020, and we’ve since released one album a year, always on the anniversary of the first one — the last Friday in July. We’ve only spoken directly twice — once when we met and once as guests on a podcast.
“Change This Face” came together much like our other albums. Most of our songs start as unfinished fragments that one of us has lying around. Some are recent, while others are many years old. We send these fragments to each other, and the receiver turns the idea into a full song. Sometimes it resembles the original intention, and sometimes it takes off in an entirely new direction. Then we work together on the final steps — trading backing vocals, guitar accents, edits, or mixing suggestions. Sometimes one of us gets stuck trying to come up with a solo or a bass track and just throws it over to the other guy to try.
It’s an unusual way of collaborating, but it always results in something neither of us would have come up with on our own. It’s a 1+1=3 thing.
The decision to seek opinions on your new songs is intriguing. When did you realize that external perspectives could contribute to your creative process?
We suppose every artist at every level has misgivings about sharing their work. We sure do. Our song “Absolute Green” on our new LP is about that — the hesitation, self-doubt, and vulnerability that comes with hitting “send” to ship .wav files and artwork off to the distributor.
But five albums in, we’re so grateful for how supportive and constructive people are out there. The benefits of inviting opinions far outweigh the occasional sting.
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
For us, every new release feels a little like a ticket to an unknown play. We can never predict what will happen with it, but every time something cool and unexpected seems to pop up.
Our songs have ended up in independent films, we’ve had a song profiled on a talk show on the third largest radio network in Spain, we hear our songs backing social media videos internationally, we sell a few CDs and shirts to people we’ve never met, we get a few nice reviews, and we make new connections and friends around the world. And we get asked by cool people like you to do fun things like this!
Success in terms of big sales and large streaming figures will probably never be our thing, and that’s OK. We like being our version of a band and all the colorful stuff that comes with it. And we like to think that we’re growing and refining our sound with every album.
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
We both write a lot for our day jobs and enjoy the challenge of using words in this different way. We’ve always loved lyricists who delight in wordplay and wit — like Neil Hannon, Paul Heaton, Andy Partridge, Kirsty MacColl, Stephin Merritt, both of the They Might Be Giants guys, the Lucksmiths guys, and many others.
If we write a line that makes someone stop in their tracks for a second, or one that elicits a wry smile, that’s a win in our book. It’s genuinely one of the most rewarding things when someone tells us a lyric has connected with them in some way. It reminds us to tell the same to others.
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
Our favorite compliment is when someone we know is impressed by one of our songs without knowing it’s us and says with surprise, “Wait. This is you?” Family, in particular, can be tough to impress, so tricking them into a compliment can be the best way. :>)
And we love being compared to bands we love. We got a Posies comparison the other day, which will keep us going for the next month.
Studio moments often hold a touch of magic. Could you recount an instance that stands out as the most enchanting during your creative process?
We remind each other to embrace our constraints. You can’t really get more DIY than we are. We record separately in our homes (many of our vocals are recorded in parked cars; we like the sound). Our gear is simple and inexpensive. We’re neither virtuoso players nor especially adept producers. We only communicate through messaging and shared files. So, it helps to be open to welcoming the opportunities that constraints can create.
We love it when a mistake leads to something cool. For example, when we’ve accidentally nudged a harmony track during mixing and it threw it a few milliseconds off, it opened up a new sound for the better. Or when the gain on a vocal track was accidentally way too high and we liked the sound, so we kept it.
We care a lot about our final results and getting them to be the best they can be, but over the course of five albums, we’ve grown pretty comfortable with who we are.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
We’re glad and grateful to be a small particle in the big music universe. The wonderful reviewer Janglepophub recently described our records as “gloriously catchy and perfectly obtuse.” If that’s even a little bit true, and if some people enjoy what we do along the way, it’s about the best contribution we could hope to make.
A Talk with Jeb Barry on the Release of The Typicals: The 1980s-90s Power Pop Band’s Final Recording, Released 32 Years After It Was Recorded, Lost, and Then Discovered.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
The Typicals formed around 1986 as a four-piece band centered around Jeb Barry and Michael O’Neill’s songwriting. They wrote all their songs separately and then brought them to the band to arrange. “I never told anyone what to play when we learned a new song I wrote; we let them create their own parts. Mike did the same,” Barry explains.
Due to musicians moving on to other careers, by 1990, we were a three-piece with a new drummer. Our songs had gotten harder and less powerpop. We decided to record live at CBGBs on DAT tape for a future live album release of all new songs. Unfortunately, the sound engineer only recorded one channel, so it was a waste, although it was fun to play there (we had previously focused on the Boston area for shows).
Since I had a fairly expensive DAT tape, we booked an hour with a local studio where we recorded our first two self-releases (Popscreams and The Poverty Sessions). We recorded it live in one shot, except for one song we did four times but kept the first take.
We ended it all right in the middle of talking to DGC (David Geffen Company), who loved our stuff. But the band was entering their 30s, and the music business at the time was not a great place to be. People thought I was crazy to walk away. LOL
How did DGC get interested?
Before this, we had met and talked to a few major record companies and sent out dozens of copies of our album, but nothing came of it. In 1991, I saw that DGC was a new subsidiary that had signed a band I knew through college radio, Nirvana, for a million-dollar advance. I decided to stop sending out albums and tapes and created a small promo pack of articles and reviews of the band.
Cindy Peters from Gary Gersh’s A&R office at DGC called my house later. She told me to send her a tape of three songs and instructed me to put a special code on the bottom right of the envelope, or else it would be thrown away. I did that, and she called a week or so later, saying they loved it but thought we sounded like a band they had recently released, Nirvana. I had recently gotten the Nirvana CD and didn’t see the comparison, but she pointed out similarities like soft verses and hard choruses. She requested more songs, so I sent some new and some old, including rockers and acoustic ones.
She called again, saying the new songs reminded her of The Posies and requested more. This happened a few more times before I decided I didn’t want to travel around the country in a crappy van playing low-level shows for little money and walked away. I did not return the next few phone calls from Cindy.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
Probably the first time we played as a three-piece. I (Jeb) had to play bass on Mike’s song (except for “This Lonely One,” where I played bass on my own song) and vice versa. It made the songs simpler yet more intense compared to our older material.
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 think that happens from the first time you play, especially performing original material. You seek input from others outside the band to gauge the impact of the material.
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
Our only goal when we recorded this was to give others an idea of how we sounded live as a three-piece and how the band was changing. This had nothing to do with the emerging grunge sound that was starting to become popular. As a three-piece, we needed to play the new songs more aggressively—and louder too.
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?
As a songwriter (currently writing and performing under the name Pawn Shop Saints and doing Americana with some acoustic powerpop added in, e.g., the song “Diane”), I’m still trying to write that perfect song. That’s why I keep writing. But my favorite of this bunch is probably “This Lonely One.” It just stood out to me when I wrote it and when we recorded it.
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?
Since all my songs are not written with any relation to me, I don’t really bare any emotions. All my songs are like films, where I create plots, scenarios, and characters to play out the song’s theme. Some people think I am writing about myself, or sometimes I’m writing about them, but I don’t do that. It’s all fantasy or fiction.
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?
I have only co-written once, with Jason Isbell via Twitter (that’s another story). But in 1992, it would have been Tommy Keene, Marshall Crenshaw, U2, Elvis Costello, or Springsteen.
Today, it would still be Elvis, Springsteen, Isbell, and Steve Earle. I’d even include Taylor Swift since she writes very differently from me, and I love challenges.
Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds an indelible place in your memory and why does it stand out?
CBGB’s was cool, but probably our first show at The Rat in Boston or the frat party we played for hundreds of drunk college kids in the pouring rain. They had a big mud puddle they were jumping in right in front of the stage. It was cold and miserable, but fun.
Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?
I guess it’s different for all songwriters, but like most, I just know when something isn’t working and needs to be changed. If it’s a song I think is good, I’ll work on it until it hits that comfort zone. Recording is a different beast. I may have a sound in my head I’m striving for in the studio, but sometimes it just doesn’t work. I’ve scrapped and rerecorded several songs in the studio. Luckily now, I can do that in my own home studio.
Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?
Since I don’t have any goals to be commercial and never have, I just do what I like. In 1992, that’s what we did. We didn’t try to sound like anyone, jump on the grunge train, or try to be hip or popular. We just had fun. It’s the same today.
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
Every song could have a line that has meaning to somebody. I’m not sure any of them are profound, but listeners might catch a line or two that they feel speaks directly to them.
Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?
I feel I’ve written a lot of catchy songs that few people have heard. As for a hit, I’m not sure. I still think “This Lonely One” is a hit powerpop song. Since I don’t write in one genre and mix it up a lot, there could be hit country, pop, rock, Americana songs in my catalog. I’ve written thousands of songs—most are crap, but there are a handful I could perform every night. Usually, the simpler ones are the best for me, like “She Comes Along,” an unreleased Typicals song, which was always a crowd favorite and the first song of mine another band covered.
With the resurgence of cassettes, imagine curating your inaugural mixtape. Which five songs would be must-adds and why?
For The Typicals, they would be:
“She Comes Along”
“This Lonely One” (Mike’s guitar work/hook really makes the song)
“The Cold Shoulder” (another unreleased Typicals song, slower and groovier)
“I Could Be The One” (Mike’s song from the Popscreams album)
“The 4th Of July” (from The Poverty Sessions cassette)
I’d pick these all for the same reason: they are catchy. Mike, I’m sure, would pick different ones.
Performing music before an audience holds a unique allure. What aspects of this experience contribute to the excitement and enjoyment for you?
Just getting the interaction of the crowd, even if they are just listening. As a songwriter, it’s incredibly rewarding to have people actually listen to your songs, especially when doing a solo show. I did a solo show at the Bluebird in Nashville a few years ago, and there was no talking. Everyone just sat and actually listened.
While you can’t dictate how people interpret your music, are there specific elements you wish to highlight that set your songs apart?
For The Geffen Tapes, it was the hooks of the songs and the energy that we were trying to get across. Anything beyond that was a bonus. Today, it’s more about the lyrics and stories in the songs that I hope listeners pick up on.
If tasked with introducing your music through three songs, which ones would you choose and what story do they collectively convey to new listeners?
In 1992, it would have been “This Lonely One,” “Going Steady Still” (from Popscreams), and “This Lonely One” again since I think they are good, angst-tinged power rock songs.
In a hypothetical scenario where you could tour with two other bands, who would be your ideal companions and what synergies do you envision?
In 1992, it would have been Nirvana and U2 (my favorite band, and they’re Irish, so that’s a plus). I think The Typicals could have added a similar yet different sound to either band as a supporting group, which is actually what you want for a concert. Since we were all around the same age, that wouldn’t hurt either.
Studio moments often hold a touch of magic. Could you recount an instance that stands out as the most enchanting during your creative process?
For The Typicals, we never had much money, and there was no home recording then. If you wanted to record, you had to book time in a real studio, which wasn’t cheap. We recorded at Derek Studios in Dalton, Massachusetts, the only one around (another local, Arlo Guthrie, recorded there too). Since it was expensive, we learned to be well-rehearsed and record quickly. Our first album, Popscreams, was done live in the studio with vocal overdubs. We did it so fast that we had time to record four acoustic songs. The same was true for the second one, the EP The Poverty Sessions (named by Mike because the mixing took twice as long as the recording and was very costly). But the first time you listen to a final mix of your first recorded song and hold that album in your hands is unforgettable.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
We came close to something with DGC, but essentially we were a local original band that only did originals (all other local bands were cover bands) and put out our own music. One reason we did an album ourselves was because all the local ‘experts’ said it couldn’t be done and that you needed a record company. But since we had no management or money for promotions or tours, we were pretty restricted to being a Massachusetts band. But we showed a lot of bands that you could put out your own DIY records.
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?
In 1992, it would have to be:
Susanna Hoffs—she has a one-in-a-million voice.
Robin Zander—he still has a powerful voice.
Scott Miller of Game Theory—he has a unique and standout voice.
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?
Since it’s been 32 years after the recording, we don’t expect much at all. It’s hard to stand out in today’s mass-produced music world, but maybe someone will hear it, like it, and promote it to the right person to reach a larger audience. But if not, that’s okay. I really don’t expect to hear us on SiriusXM anytime soon or hear from a label looking to press the songs. We do have some more unreleased Typicals songs, mostly Tascam 4-track recordings, that will see the light of day in the next few months, and maybe some live show songs. It all depends on the quality of the cassette tapes. If they are lo-fi, that’s fine since we love that type of sound.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
The homemade album with the songs “She Comes Along,” “Cold Shoulder,” and “Oh Janine” from 1988 should see a digital release by Christmas. Plus, I may record another Pawn Shop Saints album or do a compilation of all the powerpopish songs the Saints have recorded—all for fun!
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?
As described above, the show at CBGBs was a letdown on the recording side, but the live tape came out pretty well. The original DAT tape disappeared, and all I had was a cassette tape I recently found while cleaning out old Typicals cassettes. It’s not the best sound compared to the original tape, but after 32 years, it’s not bad. I tried remastering it, but it actually didn’t need anything, which is a kudos to the recording engineer, Greg Steele. I finally decided to put it out on the internet for free, especially since I don’t have the funds to press a record or CD. But maybe 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?
Harder and rougher—not as pretty. Maybe our influence from The Clash or Dinosaur Jr. (who lived less than an hour from us in Massachusetts) was coming through, but who knows? I think we all just wanted a more powerful style, especially as a three-piece.
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?
Since we’re releasing them 32 years later, most, if not all, of our fanbase is gone. So, we are starting from scratch three decades later. But these songs haven’t been heard outside of DGC, so maybe someone will randomly hear them, like them, and the sound. Or they might get lost in the modern music era.
Back then, if I hadn’t walked away from the business, I’m not sure what would have happened. Perhaps nothing. We might have stayed a regional act making no money and working crappy jobs.
Albums often involve collaboration with various musicians and producers. Could you shed light on how these collaborations contributed to shaping the album’s identity?
Greg Steele (who passed in 2023) usually just produced and left the engineering to others, as was done with our prior albums. This time, for the live recording, he did the engineering so we could get the best sound with no overdubs or fixes. It was all recorded directly to a DAT tape. The results didn’t need to be mastered or changed in any way. There were no other musicians—just myself, Mike, and Sean playing the same set we did at CBGBs a couple of weeks earlier.
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?
I have an art degree but still appreciate the DIY look of many of the 1980s-1990s self-releases. Most of our posters and flyers were hand-drawn, and even our first album cover was hand-drawn since we couldn’t afford text paste-ups. For the cover, we went for a simple, time-period-appropriate look: a photo of us outside CBGBs and nothing else. If I had to design an entire album jacket, I’d keep with that theme.
If The Posies are one of your favorite bands, I’m sure you’ll love New York’s Yours & Mine. They’re that good! After releasing an EP in 2017, they’re back with this hit that sounds both fresh and mature. It’s my summer 2024 album! And luckily, there’s plenty of summer left to enjoy it!
Greg talks about how ‘The Shadow You Cast’ came about.
You can find ‘Pushing up Daisies’ 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?
This record has been a long time in the making. I wrote the majority of these songs between 2014 and 2018. I went through some ups and downs with a significant other during that time (which ultimately ended in breaking up and ending an engagement). Looking back, it’s all water under the bridge, but those songs serve as a well-documented timestamp in my life. I usually write my songs on acoustic guitar. If it sounds good on acoustic, it usually translates nicely to electric and full band arrangements.
As far as crafting the arrangements with the band and recording them, to make a long story short, life sometimes gets in the way (for better or for worse). Just trying to get by financially was probably one of the biggest factors (2018-2021). When you work a 40+ hour week, there’s just not a lot of time left to make music. Then came the pandemic, which pushed a huge pause button in everyone’s life. It really impacted the band because we all moved out of NYC. Kris (bass) moved to North Carolina, Dan (drums) moved to Rockland County, NY, across the Hudson River, and I moved way upstate. Lastly, my family welcomed two amazing children into our lives in 2021 and 2023. All that is to say, there has been a lot going on, and I’ve found pockets of time here and there to slowly chip away at writing and recording this record. We tracked the rhythm section (drums and bass) in 2018, and I soon began tracking the guitars and vocals. The more I tracked, the more frustrated I became with my own takes and sound. It really started to weigh on me… What I envisioned in my mind’s ear was not what I was hearing in the recordings. So I took a break from recording for a while, and that’s when life got busy. I’m thankful that Kris and Dan were supportive of me taking my time. Every now and then, they just gave me a gentle nudge to keep going.
It wasn’t until my wife and I moved to upstate NY in 2021 that I had the opportunity to build my own small recording studio. That’s when I finally had the time and space to reopen the sessions and begin to find the sound I was looking for. It took a few more years before I finally felt good about everything. I sent the sessions over to our bassist, Kris, who then mixed the record over the course of a month or two, then it was off to mastering… and here we are!
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 been in bands since I was 14, and my framing of “success” has changed significantly over the years. During my 20s, “success” became a numbers game. How many people bought/streamed our record? How many people came to our shows? How many reviews did we get? Those ‘number’ metrics can really consume you in a negative way. When I started Yours & Mine in 2015, I reframed “success” entirely. I’m lucky that I can make music independently with people that I love. If my only metric for “success” is that we can write, play, record, and distribute music, that’s all I can really ask for. Everything else is icing on the cake. You put your music out into the world and hope that it resonates with people. That’s a simplified answer; of course, there’s an effort put into networking and spreading the word via gigs, conversations, and social media. But at the end of the day, the success is in the music itself.
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?
It really is a vulnerable process to write and release music. Oftentimes when I write, the lyrics come last. Melody and chords are crafted simultaneously, and I use mumbles as tentative lyrics. But once a particular lyric or phrase stands out, then I’m able to frame what the song will be about. My songs are not always autobiographical. Sometimes a story will emerge with fictional characters. “Wedding Vow” is perhaps the most vulnerable I’ve ever been. Many years ago, I was in a relationship, and we got engaged. As we were planning the wedding, we also happened to be growing apart. Our goals and future seemed to not align. Without going into detail here, we broke up and ended the engagement. I wrote that song while we were still together, and I remember thinking… There’s no way I can ever let this song see the light of day if we stay together. It turns out my instincts were correct, and maybe the songwriting process was a form of therapy for me to see it through and address some of those uncomfortable realizations! I think the sister song to “Wedding Vow” is “The Here & The Now,” which is my version of hoping it could work out (written around the same time). Even in that song, you can sense my uncertainty and doubt.
Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?
I think that songs actually blossom in the recording studio! Usually, I think a song is ready once I have lyrics, melody, chords, and we’ve rehearsed the most basic arrangement of it as a band. We’re a trio, so that’s quite simple. Once those basic pieces are recorded (rhythm guitar, bass, drums, voice), that’s when you add the layers of more guitars, harmonies, and percussion. Next to the songwriting itself, I think the arrangement and exploration of layers in the studio is my favorite part of what we do. All that being said, I think when you press playback and listen to what you have recorded and you’re not yearning for anything else, that’s when it’s complete.
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 have a few favorite lyrics, for sure! Almost all of these songs have the common thread of uncertainty in a relationship and working through it (or out of it). It’s funny because these songs don’t have the same lyrical impact for me now (as someone who has moved on and is happily married with two children), but maybe someone is going through tough times in a relationship (or has before) and these lyrics resonate with them. I particularly like the wordplay in these:
I’m Not Ready to Go: “It’s the time of night that some call day depending who you see It’s about the time I made my way sleep”
Wedding Vow: “Maybe your words are wasted on a wedding vow Maybe those days are numbered for you anyhow You find the loosest lips upon a sinking ship You wanna tell her, but you don’t know how Maybe your words are wasted on a wedding vow”
Shadow: “Tell me what you’ve seen With your eyes of green Is it love, or is it jealousy that’s blind?”
Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?
It’s usually the songs that come quickly. I wrote “I’m Not Ready to Go” and “Wedding Vow” in an hour or less! The good ones just come off the top of your head (at least for me, personally).
In a hypothetical scenario where you could tour with two other bands, who would be your ideal companions and what synergies do you envision?
I’m a huge fan of PONY and Extra Arms. I absolutely love how both these bands blend pop, rock, and alternative (each in their own unique way). Both bands are also insanely good at creating hooks and catchy melodies. I haven’t met or interacted with either of them, but I’d love to be ‘band friends’ someday.
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?
For me personally, the record is the timestamp. It’s the most accurate reflection of that collection of songs, so in a way, yes. Once the record is released, it feels like you’ve let it go (almost like a bird leaving the nest for the first time). I have many more songs in the vault, so now I’m already thinking about our next batch of tunes (which will probably come in the form of multiple EPs because consuming bite-sized music collections seems to be preferred in this day and age of streaming). Since the three of us live so far apart, we don’t have the opportunity to play live very often. We do have a string of shows lined up at the end of September that I’m very excited about!
On social media, it was evident that Superdrag was actively making music together again. So, I was surprised when John Davis announced a solo album. The first single, “The Future,” is fantastic—beautiful!
The album, JINX, will be released on September 27 under the Lost In Ohio label. This record stands out from Davis’ other solo work because it was initially intended to be a new Superdrag LP, which would have been the band’s first album in a decade.
Davis explains how this came about in an interview with the Sweet Sweet Music blog.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
It took quite a while. I started writing this batch of material in January 2021. Superdrag demoed most of the songs at Vibe City with Mike Armstrong, while I recorded some others on a 4-track in my garage with Brandon and Don. We took four of them into the studio, but things didn’t work out. From that point on, I thought of it as a solo record. I ended up making the album in Farragut with Stewart Pack producing, playing bass, and handling backing vocals, with his son Henry Pack engineering, mixing, and playing drums. I think we make a nice trio.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
From the moment we started getting sounds, really. I love the Strat sound. We approached the album as if that was the only guitar we had, except for a handful of Telecaster and 12-string overdubs. The amp blend was pretty much ideal— all Fender, all 10-inch speakers. It’s very “Fendery.”
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, for me, looks like something self-sustaining that points toward the next project. Something that helps me, helps the label, and reaches more people than I could on my own. That’s why I’m so thankful to have the support of Lost In Ohio, Force Field, and Terrorbird.
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’s not for me to decide. The arrangements on this record are different; we were on a mission to trim any excess and avoid “circling the airport” while waiting for the next idea to happen.
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?
It’s the only way I really know how to do it.
Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds an indelible place in your memory, and why does it stand out?
The night we jammed with Ray Davies from The Kinks at SXSW in 2001. He said we had a lot of good material. We lived on that for a while.
Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?
By finishing every idea to see where it leads. The ideas should always be in charge.
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
It’s really up to the listener to decide which lyrics move them or hold significance. I always strive to be honest and say precisely what I feel. I spent more time thinking about these individual songs than ever before, and I might never do it that way again. But as a result, I can honestly say I feel like they’re just right.
Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?
I had no idea “Sucked Out” was going to be a hit song. It’s a weird hit. But it’s a great feeling to write a hit song. We’ve been called one-hit wonders, but I guess that’s better than being no-hit wonders. Reaching people is the whole point, you know?
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
The one from Ray Davies stands out, as well as Robert Pollard calling us “good rock performers.”
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
Hopefully, just in my own lane, always following the ideas.
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, Carl Wilson, and Al Jardine— because they have angelic voices.
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?
Hopefully, the record will resonate with someone immediately and then unfold over time with repeated listening.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
I plan to start writing for the 6th Superdrag LP.
Albums often involve collaboration with various musicians and producers. Could you shed light on how these collaborations contributed to shaping the album’s identity?
Having Stewart not only agree to produce but also play bass and Henry on drums provided a steady foundation of interlocking rhythm for each song, plus a good amount of melody from the bass. We spent about an hour on each song, getting the arrangement right before going for the drums.
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?
Aaron Draplin of Draplin Design Co. did all the design. He totally crushed it. He listened to our feedback and nailed it. He’s a legend.
Recognizing quality can be straightforward, and Dan Miraldi’s new release, ‘Ulysses‘, is a perfect example. You’ll quickly notice its excellence. With ten tracks that leave you wanting more after just half an hour, it’s a compelling listen. Fortunately, ‘Ulysses’ is the second installment in a garage rock power-pop trilogy that Miraldi is crafting, or so it seems. He delves into this project with Sweet Sweet Music blog, explaining how it all comes together.
You can find ‘Almost Sounds Sincere’ 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 spent most of 2022 focusing on the release of my seventh album, Radio Friendly Darling, so recording for Ulysses did not really commence until January of 2023. A few months prior, I had moved to a new apartment and finally had my home recording setup in place. I had four songs fully written as my starting point. I knew that the title track was supposed to open the record. I also had two song fragments that I managed to complete once production began. Then, as often happens when I am recording, new ones start to come to me and I wrote four additional songs that ended up on the album. I wrote a good number of other songs that will likely be saved for an album next year as well, but I thought these ten songs for Ulysses made for a satisfying listening experience.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
I recognize that I am a niche artist. I think my music is accessible and likable, but I have no commercial expectations. The music industry is an abyss. There is no meritocracy. I love rock and roll. I make the records I want to make. My first album came out fifteen years ago. I feel like I have been very consistent at releasing quality music. I have toured and gotten to play shows with some of the big kids, but my greatest musical blessings have been the support of some independent DJs in the Cleveland area as well as SiriusXM. I can get really existential, but for the sake of this interview, I will focus on the positive. I am proud of the records I have made and grateful to anyone who finds their way to my music.
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 will be a long answer unfortunately. I feel like my career and sound can be broken down into three phases with transitional records in between. My first three albums and four EPs are phase one. I was developing my sound trying to pull my retro rock and roll influences with garage rock revival and elements of punk. I was on the road, traveling in a van with my band, really trying to make things happen. Eventually, it was not turning out commercially the way I was hoping and I had to rethink my career and business model. My third album, Chaos Destruction & Dancing, is a transitional record. It was made when I knew I was moving from my hometown of Cleveland to try new things in NYC. It did not come out until a year after I moved to New York.
In phase two, you get to New York-era records – Love Under Fire and then the big one for me Alphabet City 2 AM. I had a period of creative doubt when I first moved here. I wondered if I had already written my best songs, but then I found my voice and confidence. The new city and the friends I was making inspired me. I wrote so many songs, that it provided material that has found its way on to multiple albums. In this second phase, I also made the acoustic Mood Music records and the proto-punk 15 Minutes of Fury which were important, because I was getting comfortable recording myself at home just as the pandemic hit and throughout it.
Coming out of the pandemic, I feel like this is phase three. I did not plan it this way, but I think I am making a garage rock power-pop trilogy. Radio Friendly Darling was part one. I was trying to make something upbeat and comforting as we all had been through a lot during covid. Now with Ulysses, I feel like it rocks a little harder, but it is still fun. Songs I did not get to during Radio Friendly Darling, provided the starting points for Ulysses. While making Ulysses, I wrote a bunch of new songs. I could have technically made a double album, but did not want to go that route. It is tough to get people’s attention long enough to listen to one new song, let alone a whole record. So I set those other songs aside and hope to finish another collection for next year. I am excited to share Ulysses and excited to know that I have another potential album up my sleeve. I am not delusional. I recognize that I have limitations in reaching an audience in these days of algorithms and the oversaturation of tens of thousands of songs being released daily to streaming services. Most people will never hear about it, but that is not what drives me. If I may be so bold, if people like garage rock and power-pop, I am making something special for them. I am going to throw down the gauntlet with this next record. It’s written and probably 75% recorded.
With the resurgence of cassettes, imagine curating your inaugural mixtape. Which five songs would be must-adds and why?
I am all about the deep cuts.
The Records “I Don’t Remember Your Name.” If you find a copy of the album Crashes by the Records, buy it. It is not available on CD or streaming, but it is great power-pop from the late 70s early 80s. “I Don’t Remember Your Name” has a great Revolver-esque guitar riff, but it has great lyrics about being at a party wanting to go home and not remembering the names of the guests you’ve been introduced to throughout the evening. I identify with it.
Kurt Baker “Anchors Up.” Kurt is a cool guy and I am only beginning to dig into his rich discography. I really enjoyed 2023’s Rock N Roll Club and “Anchors Up” is a highlight. I saw him play it live and it was killer.
Nathan Hedges “Times Are Changing.” Nathan played guitar on two of the Ulysses tracks and is one of my best buds. However, I am including him because he is talented and underrated. He put out his own EP last year in the Americana-rock genre. It’s excellent and “Times Are Changing” is a rockin’ highlight.
The Knack “Can I Borrow A Kiss.” The Knack’s “My Sharona” has my favorite guitar solo in all of rock and roll, but like I said, I like the deep cuts, so I am instead adding “Can I Borrow A Kiss” to the mixtape with the hope that you listen to Knack records beyond their debut. “Can I Borrow a Kiss” is perfect power pop. The song is thoughtfully romantic, but still an infectious listening experience.
Stephen Stills “Singin’ Call.” Stills is my favorite guitarist. I also love his voice. It’s a vulnerable song to be listened to late at night. Kids these days don’t know enough about Stephen Stills. Between 1967 to about 1975, he was on fire as a writer, producer, arrangement and instrumentalist. There are many songs I could point you to, but this has been my go-to over the last couple of years.
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?
I listen to a lot of older rock music, but my favorite singer under the age of 70 is Grace Potter. She is one of the best rock and roll singers out there. I once played a festival she headlined and we shared a golf cart ride together, but I did not have the nerve to ask her to sing harmony.
Graham Nash is one of the greatest harmony singers ever. In his eighties, he is still great. Songs for Beginners is one of the most underrated albums of the 1970s. To sing with Graham would be monumental. I met him when I was 16 and he was very gracious. A few years ago, I reached out to his manager to see if Graham wanted to do a writing session together. The manager politely responded that Graham very solidly booked for the foreseeable future. Maybe I should follow up?
Paul McCartney, because the Beatles are the best and Paul’s work ethic has always inspired me. Assuming I could manage to talk in his presence, singing with him would be an honor. I do not have a Paul story, but I once opened for his son James. It was cool.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
I celebrated the album’s release by performing at the International Pop Overthrow festival in Copenhagen a few weeks ago. I plan on doing more shows likely in the New York City area this summer and fall, both solo acoustic and full band. I will also be returning to my hometown of Cleveland for a reunion show of Dan Miraldi & the Albino Winos, my old touring outfit in September. We have not performed together in five years, but that will be fun.
I will also be continuing to record. I have that power-pop record I mentioned earlier as well as a folky collection that I am still developing into a potential EP.
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 album art was one of the last things that came into place. I record at home and like to make the lighting vibey when recording. I lower the lights and have this “nebula projector” that puts celestial patterns on the ceiling. I was messing around with the projector. I pointed it at myself and then took a selfie. I thought it looked cool and used it for the cover. It was spontaneous, but once it happened, I knew it was right.
The other visuals are coming in the form of videos. My wife, Meaghan, works in film and directed a music video for “Unfollow Me” while we were honeymooning in Barcelona. She is in the process of editing the footage. It is looking cool. The music video is very tongue-in-cheek with the visuals matching the lyrical commentary on social media and how people present themselves. We hope to have it out in the coming weeks.
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