Twenty years and twelve albums into their journey, Smug Brothers show no signs of slowing down. Their latest release, Pinhole To Vortex, delivers another irresistible mix of crunchy guitars, jangling melodies, offbeat lyrics and infectious hooks. Recorded over several years at their own Fork Rock Studios, the album captures a band that continues to explore new ideas without losing its distinctive identity. We caught up with Kyle Melton to talk about the making of the record, the enduring appeal of guitar-driven indie rock, the bands keeping the scene alive and the satisfaction of releasing new music after two decades.
Pinhole To Vortex is your 12th album, and Smug Brothers have been making music for twenty years now. Looking back, how has the band’s sound evolved over that time, and what still defines a Smug Brothers record for you?
KM: Well, I think there are always the core elements we’re interested in: big hooks, slightly obtuse lyrics, and mix of crunchy and jangly guitars, and songs that have a way of sticking with the listener. In the early days, it was much more haphazard and scattershot. We tried a lot of ideas, and a lot of times we went with the initial spark of an idea rather than spending a little more time hashing it out and polishing it. These days, we have a bit more opportunity to flesh out ideas at our home studio, Fork Rock Studios, and add layers to the recordings that we didn’t in the early days. That said, we still try to stay as close to the spark of the idea as we can without working an idea into boredom for ourselves. As far as what makes a Smug Brothers record: it has to have some good hooks, there has to be a little weirdness in there, and some kind of throughline and flow for the listener from beginning to end. We want each album to be a complete and unique listen.
How did Pinhole To Vortex come about? Where did the songs and ideas for this album originate, and how did they develop into the finished record? Did you have a particular direction in mind, or did the album take shape as you went along?
KM: We started tracking for this album in summer 2024 and continued tracking until early 2026, but there were only a handful of tracking sessions with drummer Don Thrasher and I to get songs together. Some of the material was older, but I was writing a lot of new stuff as we went along, and slowly a coherent album emerged. There were 3 songs that ended up as digital B-sides, and several more that are still just in the pot for the future. It wasn’t until the very last recording session in fall 2026 that I knew what the last few songs needed to be to really tie the album together. That’s kinda the process of listening to what we have and figuring out what pieces complete the puzzle, so to speak.
Smug Brothers have been part of the independent guitar-pop and indie-rock world for a long time, and there’s a lively community of bands and listeners keeping that music alive. Do you feel part of a wider Power Pop or indie-pop scene? And are there contemporary bands you feel a particular connection with, or that you’re especially excited about?
KM: Oh yeah, there are a ton of great bands and fans in the guitar-centric indie rock world, and we’re thrilled to be a part of it in our own way. We’ve been good friends with The Laughing Chimes [Slumberland Records] for a few years now, typically doing a weekend of shows in Columbus and Athens once a year. They’re great and we’re looking forward to where they go in their adventures. We just played with Ex Pilots out of Pittsburgh a few weeks ago; Lavender Jets out of Cleveland are really great. And we’re big fans of Kiwi Jr., Sharp Pins, and Good Flying Birds. Lots of great music happening these days.
Has the response to Pinhole To Vortex surprised you in any way? Have the reviews, online coverage and word of mouth brought new listeners your way, or changed how people discover and engage with Smug Brothers?
KM: Well, it was exciting for us to get coverage in MAGNET this year, which has always been an important resource for all of us. It seems people are tuning in slowly to this new one, but that’s alright. We did a much shorter lead-up to the new album; one month instead of three from announcement to release. But we were able to get out to different cities with the new album, which we’ve not really been able to do in the past, so that’s helped a bit. It keeps growing at a glacial pace, which suits us just fine.
Pinhole To Vortex is out now, and the songs are no longer really yours — they belong to the listeners. After twenty years and twelve albums, what does it feel like to release a new collection of songs into the world? Is there a particular track on this record you’re especially curious to hear people make their own?
KM: Putting out a new album is always a buzz for me. Now that I’m handling all the recording and mixing, as well as doing the cover art with my own collages, it’s a new level of intense, sustained involvement for me with this album. But when it’s done and pressed and out to the world, it’s a great feeling that it’s alive, you know? I put so much of myself on the line and it’s great that there are people who are excited to hear it. I would really love to hear about people who are into tracks like “I’ve Seen Them Patch the Same Hole Trying to Get it Right” and “Drive Open in the Delicate Streams”. Those both have special meanings for me personally, so when other people can get into them, that makes me happy.
There’s a particular kind of record that only gets made once a band has stopped worrying about what it’s supposed to prove — and that’s the record THE MORNING LINE has made with STARS, out September 18th on Big Stir Records. Twenty-one tracks, twenty-plus years, and a back catalog stretched between a 2007 debut and a 2017 follow-up that a lot of fans never got the chance to connect. Rather than just slap a “greatest hits” sticker on the whole thing and call it a day, the band went back in and remixed the songs they cared about most, added two genuinely new ones (“90s Pickup” and “This Lens”), and rounded it out with the single “Anhedonia” — ending up with something that’s less a victory lap than a re-introduction.
I sat down with Stephen Smith, by his own modest insistence more melody writer than lyricist, to talk about what happens when you go back and remix twenty years of your own songs, what it’s like discovering your old lyrics are “not half-bad,” and why a two-decade-old band still bothers showing up.
A “best of” record usually gets made when a band’s looking backward out of necessity — end of a chapter, lineup change, anniversary. What was the actual trigger for STARS? Was there a specific moment where someone said “we should do this now”?
Gambling debt? No, I wouldn’t say there was necessity here, so much as desire. We wanted to hear the songs at their best, hence the remixing, and we wanted to have a document that collected a lot of disparate material in one place. In terms of sound, every single thing we’ve done has been recorded and mixed by Peter Craft, who also happens to play drums on most of the songs. His studio has evolved over the twenty-plus years he’s been recording, and he thought he could make the songs sound better. So that’s a part of it. Additionally, in some ways, I think of the band as two bands, not so much sonically as temporally. We put out our first record in 2007 and the next in 2017. So it seemed to me we had some fans of the 2007 record who may have been unfamiliar with our more recent material, and fans of the recent material who could be unfamiliar with the 2007 record. It made sense to have a single document to represent us, that the future (should there be one) can build on. It is a summing up, with improvements.
I credit my wife with the album including the new songs “90s Pickup” and “This Lens.” The record was originally envisioned as a purely retrospective collection. She said that we had to put a couple new songs on it to make it more compelling. Poets do this occasionally, releasing books containing “New and Collected” work. I’m glad we included the new ones because I really like them (obviously), and it does add variety.
Remixing old songs is a strange kind of time travel — you’re not just cleaning them up, you’re making new decisions inside old material. Was there a song where the remix changed how you personally feel about it?
This is something only a band member would probably notice, but the song “The Minutes” just seems more vibrant, more alive, than the previous version. It sounds like what I wanted it to be, but we weren’t able to do at the time. So the sound alone has taken me from, “that’s a good song,” to “goddamn, I love that one!” One of the more dramatic remixes is a song called “All Mine.” On our 2017 album, Smoke, we were delighted to have Paul Kolderie mix that song. He’s an all-time great, and he took some structural liberties with the song. We liked them, don’t get me wrong, but the remix revisits the original structure, makes it a bit longer, adds a chorus. So to me it becomes a bit of a new song.
Stephen, your lyrics get called literate and emotive — what’s a line from one of the older songs on STARS that still catches you off guard when you sing it now, for reasons you didn’t intend back when you wrote it?
Geez, Patrick, that’s going to require some thought. Well, let me start by saying I think of myself as more of a melody writer than a lyric writer, but going through this anthology assembly process has made me listen to the songs and think, “you know, some of these lyrics aren’t half-bad.”
This is not perfectly responsive to your question but, to again invoke the song “All Mine” that I just mentioned (which is not my favorite song, really!), it has a line in it, “we pay the cash and watch the gridded land pass by.” I always liked that line, because of the clarity with which I thought watching “gridded land pass by” captured the experience of flying in a plane. Today, however, the part of the line that delights me is the rhythm or cadence of it. So less the image it provides than the feel.
Is there a song on here that means something different to you now than it did when you wrote it — where age or distance changed what it’s actually about?
When I wrote “Spellbound,” I left a lot of space for what it was “about.” Mental illness? Self-harm? And listening to it today, I think, “Oh, maybe that’s just about growing up.” And it struck me as a theme in a lot of these songs. Getting comfortable in the world as an adult. Getting “credit in the straight world,” as Young Marble Giants sang. Yes, I’m an old man now, but I still have never felt like I know how to be a “grown-up.”
If a version of THE MORNING LINE from 2007 heard STARS, what do you think would surprise them most — not about the songs, but about the band that made them?
Well, I think an answer many people would probably give is “you’re still doing it?” But that doesn’t surprise me. We all love music and making music, and we are all close friends. If you love something, you do it, and who better to do it with than friends?
I think what would surprise them is that there are still a few people – not a lot – who care about what we’re doing. That there are at least a few ears that want to hear what we are up to. And I think they would be grateful. I know we are today.
STARS is out September 18, 2026 on Big Stir Records.
Rob Bonfiglio’s The Over Under has been out for a while now. I liked it immediately, but after listening to it for a few months, it has become one of those go-to records I return to when I need to recalibrate or reset. It’s the kind of album that reveals more of itself with time.
What makes it particularly striking is how personal it feels: Bonfiglio wrote, recorded and mixed the record largely on his own, following the songs that carried the most weight and trusting his instincts along the way. Months after its release, he remains remarkably close to the album and proud of how faithfully it captures what he wanted to say.
We spoke about the vulnerability of “Need You Know,” the sharper edge of “More Pure Than Gold,” the decision to make the record mostly by himself, and why connecting with listeners ultimately matters more than recognition.
How does The Over Under feel to you now that it has been out for a while and you’ve had some distance from making it?
I felt from the beginning that this record reached a lot deeper than my previous releases. I went into the recording process with maybe 20 or so tunes, and it became clear which ones carried the most gravity.
My recording and mixing process happened concurrently. I’d go on a hike or a drive and listen back to a day’s work to determine where to go next. It all added up to literally thousands of listens.
Even after completing the album, I can still listen through from beginning to end and feel a sense of cohesion. I can honestly say there are very few things I’d have done differently with this album. It still rings completely true to me. I’m really proud of the way it turned out.
“Need You Know” feels like the emotional heart of the album to me. It’s a beautiful, very vulnerable song. Do you remember where that song came from, and did you know while writing it that it could become such a special song on the record?
Thank you so much. “Vulnerable” is a great descriptive. My writing cycles happen in waves and usually bear five or six or more songs at a time. This came out of one of those batches. I don’t recall the initial inspiration beyond the riff that repeats throughout, which always had a Fleetwood Mac-ish vibe to me.
I do recall being satisfied with the simplicity of the form. The lyrics happened pretty quickly and seemed to really get to the point of how I was feeling.
“More Pure Than Gold” feels like the musical and lyrical opposite of “Need You Know” — it’s sharp, angry and quite political. What was your state of mind when you wrote that song? Was it something that came more from the heart, or more from the head?
Without expressly saying so, I think the sentiment of this song is pretty obvious. I like to think all good songs come from the heart, with the head to guide them along. Much of the lyrical content of this song came out in a free flow, and much still stands true, unfortunately.
You made The Over Under largely on your own, even though you have friends and family around you who are, to put it mildly, pop royalty and could probably have helped you make the record. What made you want to do this one by yourself?
I’m a textbook introvert. I really considered doing this album with a larger ensemble of players, but one thing led to another and I just ended up doing it all myself. It was easier to get from point A to point B quickly, and things just sort of snowballed from there. All creative decisions started and ended in my head.
That said, I did have a little help from my daughter Lola on “Blame This” and a great pedal steel player named Xandy Chelmis on “Fade Away.”
I’ve read some really nice reactions and reviews of The Over Under, and I’m sure you have too. Recognition must be nice, especially after putting so much of yourself into a record. Or is there something else that matters more to you when you look at how the album has been received?
I’m incredibly grateful for the kind words and genuine reactions to this record. Yes, recognition is important for sure, but maybe less so for the ego nudge and more for the acknowledgement of being able to share something that resonates on a human level.
There’s a glorious sense of excess running through Captain Easy’s Downfall, the new album by The Cowboys. Across 19 songs, the band brings together the extravagance of glam, the sharp melodic instincts of power pop and the restless experimentation of adventurous indie pop. It’s playful, unpredictable and occasionally chaotic, but beneath all that excess lies an impressive attention to melody, atmosphere and detail.
We spoke with The Cowboys’ Keith Harman about the band’s return, the creative process behind Captain Easy’s Downfall, embracing “too much,” and what might come next.
The Cowboys and Captain Easy’s Downfall
The Cowboys are a new band to me, so I’d love to start by going back a little. You’ve been doing this since 2013 — what has brought the band from where you started to where you are now with Captain Easy’s Downfall? And do you feel that you’re reaching a new audience with this record? I’m discovering The Cowboys through this album, and I’m wondering if you’re noticing that the record is opening the door to new listeners for you as well.
The chief element that has carried the band all these years is a combination of our friendship and my inability to stop writing songs. We never achieved any great success in our journey, so there is no demand or multi-album contract to fulfill. I wrote a large number of songs in a year or two and just asked the band if they felt it was time to get back together. They said yes, so we started working on a new album.
I wouldn’t say this new record has really opened any new doors or garnered many new listeners. I haven’t noticed that. But I think we are all very proud of this record and the work we were able to accomplish.
The creative process
When you started working on Captain Easy’s Downfall, was the excess itself part of the goal — 19 songs, all those layers, the unexpected turns and disruptions — or did it simply become a creative flow that kept giving you new ideas and you just kept following it? Or was it closer to the culmination of the sound the band has developed over the years?
It was definitely my goal to have an album of these more layered, technicolor songs. I didn’t expect the album to be 19 songs, and I didn’t anticipate Mark’s (guitarist, producer) long-gestating production being a part of the workflow. He kept adding and tinkering to great effect; he obsessed over the production.
As for the writing of the album, I was in a very good creative headspace at that time. I was tapping into a good flow and kept adding songs to the recording schedule. It was a nice experience.
Was there ever a moment when you thought, “Okay, this is too much,” or was “too much” actually the point?
There was definitely a point of “this is too much,” but that happens on almost every album. It was the point. There are moments on this record that can put me in a giggle fit. Just the music and arrangements, not even the lyrics.
When I listen to the album, I hear this kind of unique creative chaos — all these ideas, unexpected turns and disruptions — but at the same time, I hear an incredible amount of care underneath it. The sound, the atmosphere, the melodies and especially the lyrics all feel very deliberate. For me, that combination is actually what makes the album so exciting and ultimately such a great record. Was that something you were conscious of while making it — finding that balance between unique creative chaos and care? Or does the term “unique creative chaos” not resonate with you at all?
Unique creative chaos definitely resonates with me. It was always my goal to get there, but even on some of the wackier songs on this record (“Donzell’s Crystal Ball” or “Michelle Fleischmann,” for example), I followed my muse in regard to the writing and arrangement and never looked back.
Looking ahead
And finally, what does the rest of the year look like for The Cowboys? Are you hoping to take Captain Easy’s Downfall on the road, or are there already new ideas and projects taking shape?
We did a short tour of the American Midwest and East Coast in the summer of 2026 in support of Captain Easy’s Downfall, and it was a good time. I would like to do more touring next year, but it’s hard as the band is so spread out across different cities. I keep threatening a European tour, but it’s proven very difficult to make happen.
As for new recordings, it doesn’t seem likely that anything will happen anytime soon. I’ve got an album written that’s not very “Cowboys”-appropriate, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. The wish from the band seems to be not to recreate the creative approach of Captain Easy’s Downfall for whatever happens next. So it’s a mystery what happens next, even for me.
The Goods return this September with Goodbye Summertime, the follow-up to Don’t Spoil The Fun, one of my favorite albums of last year. Released by Dandy Boy Records, the new record builds on everything that made its predecessor so memorable: instantly gratifying guitar pop packed with irresistible melodies, but with an emotional depth that reveals itself the closer you listen. Much of that comes from Rob Good’s lyrics, which are remarkably honest, direct, and unafraid to be vulnerable.
Ahead of the album’s September release, I spoke with Rob Good about the emotions behind Goodbye Summertime, writing some of its most personal songs, and what lies ahead for The Goods.
Goodbye Summertime is such a melancholy album title to me. Was that the state of mind you were in when you wrote these songs, or is it more the atmosphere you wanted to convey?
It’s a melancholy album, really. It does have a lot to do with the state of mind I was in when writing it. A lot of the album is about change, and although change can be good it can also be painful, and you can mourn the loss of what you had to leave behind to get to a better place. But saying “goodbye” to something also means saying “hello” to something new, so it may be tinged with some sadness but there’s optimism in there too. To me, the title Goodbye Summertime captures those bittersweet feelings.
“Wing” is a song I keep coming back to, especially because of the lyrics and the line about asking someone to take you under their wing. It feels very vulnerable. Was that your intention when you wrote it?
“Wing” is definitely me at a vulnerable moment. The lyrics are very direct and honest. Sometimes in my writing I’m just trying to express a feeling that’s difficult to put into words, but in this case I was being more autobiographical. A lot of the songs on this record were written really quickly, in heightened emotional states, and then recorded right away. This is one of those songs. I don’t know about the intention because “Wing” just kind of spilled out – I think I needed to write it at that moment.
On parts of “Ginger Rose” you sing noticeably higher than usual. As a listener, that has a huge emotional impact on me—not just because it sounds beautiful. Were you deliberately trying to add an extra emotional dimension, or did the melody simply lead you there and require you to sing in that higher register?
When I’m writing, I just try to follow the melody where it wants to go. I don’t think I necessarily set out to write a song where I sang in falsetto, but as I was feeling my way through the chords it just seemed to take me there. I can remember around the time of writing “Ginger Rose” I was obsessed with several songs that featured a falsetto vocal – “Here There and Everywhere” is an obvious touchstone, but also “Tell Me Have You Seen Her” by the Chi-Lites and “How Deep Is Your Love” by the Bee Gees – so that influence must have crept in. I do love a falsetto vocal, and it was fun to explore that part of my voice.
“Waiting” feels quite different from the rest of the album. It’s just you and your guitar, I assume. Because it’s so brief, it feels more like a short story than a full novel—to use a slightly clumsy comparison. What made it such an important piece of the album as a whole?
I like that comparison! “Waiting” was just a song-fragment that was rattling around in my head, and that seemed to be all that it wanted to be. I think it’s okay for songs to be short. Sometimes you just have a snippet of a melody and it somehow feels complete – like if it were any longer it would somehow lose something. Tony Molina is obviously the master of this. I also love Pink Flag by Wire and of course “Your Majesty” at the end of Abbey Road. Not that I was explicitly thinking about any of that when I wrote “Waiting,” but I’ve just always found that short songs can be really impactful and beautiful. As far as its importance on the record, over the course of an album I feel like the little moments are just as important as the big swings, and “Waiting” is just one of those little moments.
When is Goodbye Summertime being released, and what do the next few months look like for The Goods?
Goodbye Summertime comes out on September 16, and our record release show is on September 11 at Little Hill in El Cerrito, CA. Then, starting September 24 we’re heading out for a European tour with Joel Cusumano. We’re currently looking at visiting Germany, Spain, France, Belgium, and the UK, and maybe a couple other places too.
When old heroes release a new album, it’s often unfair to compare the new work with what they created in their glory days. But because they’re heroes, you accept a new standard of quality—just as you do with autumn when thinking of spring. None of this applies to Mobtown: Splitsville’s new album sounds as fresh and exciting as their releases from the turn of the millennium. Maybe Cold Open isn’t the perfect opener, but after that, it’s nine straight hits—flawless, brilliantly executed, and perfectly produced power pop, with Perry Hall and I Hate Going to Hutzler’s as two random highlights that I was singing along to after just a couple of listens, coloring my day in bright tones. In all this excitement, I’m tempted to say it won’t get any hotter this year—but maybe it goes even further, and I’m ready to label it a Modern Power Pop Classic right now.
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!
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.
