rock

The Nerves: The Album They Never Got to Make — Paul Collins on lost tapes, Third Man Records and reaching a whole new audience

Posted on by patrickdonders

You wanted the best.
You got the best.
The coolest band in the world.
The Nerves.

Fifty years on, The Nerves somehow still sound urgent, sharp and impossibly cool. The Los Angeles trio of Jack Lee, Peter Case and Paul Collins left behind only a small body of officially released music during their original lifetime, but their influence and reputation have only grown with the years.

Now a new release from Third Man Records opens the archives and tells a much bigger story: 29 songs drawn from across the band’s brief but extraordinary existence, assembled from studio recordings, living-room tapes and live performances.

We spoke with Paul Collins about digging through 50-year-old tapes, the small miracles that made the collection possible, working with Third Man Records, and why new generations continue to discover The Nerves.

This is an incredible overview of The Nerves: 29 songs bringing together recordings from different periods of the band. What can we expect from this collection? Are there recordings or versions on it that you’re particularly excited for people to hear?

Yes I’m very excited for people to hear this record. It has the best recordings of the songs that we were working on from the time period of 1974 to 1977. All of these songs would have been a part of a Nerves album had we been lucky enough to make one.

They are all recorded versions either in studios or in living rooms but mixed properly, except for the songs that were recorded Live at The Starwood. The sound quality is just fantastic because we were able to find the source tapes to practically every single song on this record so it’s it’s really the very best of The Nerves.

How did the idea for this particular release come about? Who first had the idea to bring all this material together, and when did Third Man Records become involved?

Well it came about when we realized that it was the 50th anniversary of The Nerves and Jack Lee’s daughter Cynthia was managing his estate after he passed away and she really wanted to do something to commemorate her father’s Legacy.

I do believe that Jack had asked his daughter if she could try to get Third Man Records to put this record out for the 50th anniversary. He knew about the label and about Jack White. Cynthia was really very instrumental in speaking to them and when they heard that there was the possibility of making the record they asked if both Peter Case and myself would be involved and of course we said yes, at which point they said we’d like to hear what you guys want to do. When they heard the material they agreed to put it out and then it just snowballed from there.

They did an absolutely incredible job mastering all the the songs and organizing the archival material and they put together an absolutely stellar package. A double album on red swirl vinyl and it couldn’t be any better for a 50th anniversary release for this band.

It must have been an enormous job to put this collection together. How much searching and digging was involved in finding the original recordings, and were there any discoveries during the process that surprised you?

Yes there were a lot of Small Miracles involved with getting all these tapes for the record. Some of them were in storage bins in Redding, California there were some in Los Angeles there were some here in New York. We would find these boxes of tapes, some of them were marked some of them were unmarked. They have been sitting around for 50 years so we didn’t know whether the tapes would be completely corroded or if they would be usable. When we transferred them we were sitting on the edge of our seats not knowing, and finally when the transfers came back it was amazing the music was in pristine condition and it was just fantastic!

The biggest surprise was when I found a cassette that I had transcribed for a release I did a number of years ago called The Best of The Archives In Another World. On that tape was a live session done in the very beginning of The Nerves on a realistic tape deck of me, Jack and Peter playing I Need Your Love and Paper Dolls and One Way Ticket. You can really hear the band as we were in the beginning, how we worked up all the songs. I was playing drumsticks on a phone book, Peter was on his Hoffner bass and Jack was playing his Rickenbacker. That’s how we worked up the songs. It really gives you a bird’s eye view of how the band formed way back in the beginning. Also a friend of the bands sister had recorded The Nerves at The Starwood. She has the tape recorder in her purse! She left the purse with the recorder in her closet and found it 50 years later!

And then there’s Third Man Records. How did the relationship with Third Man come about? And what does it feel like to see The Nerves’ music given this kind of new life by a label like Third Man?

Like I said Cynthia is really responsible for the initial conversations with Third Man Records. Once they agreed to do it both Peter and I and Cynthia spoke with their head of production Dave Buick in Detroit and Dave orchestrated everything at Third Man and with with their art Department headed up by Roe and the mastering which was done by gentleman called Warren. It’s all in-house at Third Man. Everybody knows what everybody’s doing and there was a lot of excitement about the project. There was a lot of tender loving care put into every aspect of the project. The mastering and the artwork, it was all done with the utmost of care.

After all these years the little band that could, is, and Third Man is taking us to a huge audience. A much bigger audience than we have ever been able to reach. There will be a whole new world out there that will get to hear The Nerves and that is very exciting and very satisfying!

It’s almost incredible that, after all these years, there is still so much interest in The Nerves based on such a relatively small number of released songs. Young generations keep discovering the band. How do you explain that The Nerves have always remained so genuinely cool?

To me personally I think the reason why The Nerves has endured all this time is because we spared absolutely no amount of time or energy in trying to be the absolute best we could be. We aspired to be as good as we could possibly be, and we would not give up until we thought we had achieved that.

I learned so much in that regard, by working with both Jack Lee and Peter Case, and what it takes to try to climb all the way to the top.



The Release Date for Best Collection is October 23, 2026

Jeremy Porter: “It’s Important to Me to Keep Moving”

Posted on by patrickdonders

With Sell Their Souls, Jeremy Porter and The Tucos have made what may be their hardest-rocking record yet — but that doesn’t mean they’ve abandoned the hooks, twang and power-pop instincts that have always been part of Porter’s songwriting.

After close to four decades of making music, Porter still seems far more interested in what comes next than in settling comfortably into a particular sound. We caught up with him to talk about the heavier edge of Sell Their Souls, taking unexpected turns in the studio, the songs that proved hardest to crack, and why continuing to move forward remains essential.

Sell Their Souls has a particularly tough and swaggering sound to it. There’s a great mix of power pop, punk, rock and alt-country, but to my ears the balance feels a little heavier and rougher than on some of your earlier work. Was that something you consciously wanted to explore, or did the songs simply take you there?

Hey there – thanks for having me Patrick and thanks for those kind words! Yea this is probably the most “ROCK” album I’ve ever done. I’ve been into metal and hard rock since I was 9 years old, and my love for that stuff has only grown. We listened to a lot of metal and hard rock at my house during the pandemic, and I suppose it was bound to seep in a little deeper than it had before, but it wasn’t calculated.

I write constantly and it’s all over the place, as you sort of allude to, but the focus is on quality of song over genre of song. The feel or vibe – heaviness, twanginess, popiness, mellowness, whatever – that all comes into play when we’re deciding which songs to record, and especially when sequencing the record. That sequencing part is really important to me – that the album flows well from song-to-song and overall. This is when I start to think about things like “ok after these 2 heavy songs we need to take it down for the next track…” or “those two songs sound too similar to be next to each other…” stuff like that. So I guess, to answer your question, it wasn’t calculated, but it was something that’s always in play throughout the project.

Change the Rules really struck me as a tour de force. It moves through different tempos and moods, and the arrangement keeps opening up as the song progresses. How did that song develop, and did you know from the beginning that it was going to become something bigger and more elaborate?

Thanks! Yea that’s one of those harder-rocking songs that starts to get a little proggy, for us at least, and kind of sets this album apart from our previous work. It came together with that intro riff, that I think is sorta Drive-By Truckers-ish, then the hard-rock chunks in the verse, so none of that is a big departure for us, but I’m always looking to do something different, something we’ve never tried, and switching to 6/8 time for that middle section and especially hiring a real string section and composer to do that orchestration is WAY out of our wheelhouse. The idea for the strings came in the demoing stage, might have been Gabe that brought it up. So we did a primitive string arrangement with synthesizers on the demo, which was fun and helped us decide… is this cheezy? Does it rule? Do we care? Just one of those things to make the song stick out, get out of our lane and take new chances in the studio, and see what happens! I’m so glad you dig it!

The Real McCoy is my favorite song on the album. It seems to bring together so much of what I love about The Tucos, while your vocal feels particularly pure and direct. I also love the way the music seems to be all over the place while the relationship in the lyrics seems to be going in much the same direction. What does that song mean to you, and how did it come together?

It’s so fun for me to put out a record and hear what peoples’ favorite songs are. You’re the first one to even mention that song I think! I brought it in and we struggled with the arrangement and the feel of everything except the verse, which fell in very naturally. We had two big issues – it was too long, and the chorus wasn’t enough of a hook. Well, we cut a chorus out and replaced it with the bridge, so it was at a better length. Then at one point before we demoed it we were at The Loft, one of our favorite studios here in Michigan, working on something else and talking to Tim Patalan, the main guy there who’s been a big part of everything we’ve done, and I asked him about the chorus, told him we were struggling with it, and he just knew right off – “you gotta go full-STONES on it!” so we did exactly that, because Tim knows his shit, and it made the whole thing just work. It’s still the longest song on the record, and I get heart palpitations when songs approach 4 minutes, but I like how it turned out. Hope Jagger gets his ears on it!

You’ve been making records and playing in bands for more than three decades, and you’ve moved through punk, alt-country, power pop, solo work and The Tucos without ever seeming particularly interested in staying in one lane. At this point in your career, do you still feel like you’re searching for something, or have you reached a place where you’re simply comfortable being Jeremy Porter and letting the music take whatever shape it wants?

Closer to 4 decades bud! But yeah, that’s a loaded question, isn’t it? I’m always searching for something, always looking at what’s next, how I’m (or we’re) gonna make it different, better, fun, exciting… but I’m also always just me, so it’s gonna have some hooks and it’s gonna have some lyrics that hopefully mean something to or provoke a response from somebody, and it’s gonna be guitar heavy and we’re hopefully gonna get out of the song and off the stage before we wear out our welcome. I don’t think the lane shifts are that drastic, they’re all on the same highway anyhow, though it’s a fairly wide swath of heavy/distorted amps and spacious/acoustic guitars, and all points between, I guess.

Id’ guess that most singer/songwriters and touring musicians aren’t particularly comfortable with their own self-image, in their own skin, or whatever. I’m not much different. Putting myself out there with lyrics, performances, writings, even social media posts – yea, I can’t say I’m comfortable with any of it, except probably the performance part, which, when going well, is where I am at the most peace. Or maybe “peace” isn’t the right word, because rock and roll isn’t supposed to be peaceful, but let’s say content. It’s a difficult line to tread these days, trying to get your stuff out there while presenting yourself the way you want. I’m so far from an expert at it.

You’ve said that Sell Their Souls is your favorite thing you’ve ever done — while also admitting that it’s probably too fresh to know where it will ultimately sit in your catalog. That made me wonder: after all these years of writing, recording and touring, what does a record have to do now to make you feel that you’ve moved forward? What are you hearing in Sell Their Souls that tells you you’re not simply repeating yourself?

Well, context is probably important here, because I’m not sure when or where I said that, but I think it was in the context of…the newest thing is SUPPOSED to be your favorite thing, and if it isn’t then you did something wrong, yea? But yes – these things have to have some time behind them before I and talk about them objectively. But I am proud of it, and I do think it’s good.

I think a lot of what we talked about above speaks to why this record isn’t just a repeat of previous albums, just like I don’t think Dynamite Alley was or Candy Coated Cannonball before that. I remember when we were making Don’t Worry…It’s Not Contagious, our bassist at the time Patty said he felt it was basically Above the Sweet Tea Line part 2 – not a big enough departure, not enough new ground. I don’t necessarily feel that way, but I did take it to heart and put more effort into working harder on doing new and different things from that point on. It started with songs like “Put You On Hold” and “Dead Ringer” from Candy Coated and remains with songs like “Real McCoy” and “Rosencrantz” and “Change the Rules” off the new one.

It’s important to me to keep moving. Existing in this rock and roll world is more or less my life, and doing it for so long now is – in itself – some level of success for me, but without moving forward – new ideas, new directions… it would just turn into work. I could probably make more money and get bigger accolades playing in a tribute band or doing covers gigs, but I’d just as soon wash dishes or work at Taco Bell at this point.

Nits: The Most European Pop Band There Is

Posted on by patrickdonders

The Nits have been one of the most innovative Dutch pop bands since the late seventies. Innovative not because they have spent nearly five decades chasing novelty, but because they have never stopped reinventing themselves. What began as a sound with strong echoes of Kraftwerk moved through New Wave and Art Pop and has, by now, arrived somewhere in a landscape of ambient storytelling.

In terms of creativity and carefully directed spontaneity, I sometimes think of Talking Heads and David Byrne, only without the funk. There is a similar refusal to settle into a recognizable formula, a similar sense that every album should somehow create its own little world. I could also point to Joe Jackson and his restless drive to explore new musical territory, but comparisons ultimately miss the point. Because what makes Nits so interesting is precisely that they don’t really sound like anybody else.

And perhaps that is because they may be the most European pop band there is.

Their music doesn’t have its roots primarily in American blues, jazz or rock & roll. Its foundations lie just as much in the European avant-garde, classical and art music, and, inevitably, The Beatles and The Kinks are part of the equation too, as they are the inspiration for all good pop bands. But even more than in the music, their European identity reveals itself in the lyrics. Nits songs are populated by people going to a play in Helsinki, taking a train to Switzerland, living behind the Dutch dikes, or discovering that in the Netherlands every little boy is expected to join a football club, including the ones who would rather not.

Those are just a few of the subjects that appear on In the Dutch Mountains, the 1987 album that marked the band’s commercial peak, at least here in the Netherlands, and perhaps its artistic peak as well. Because as much as I love many of their songs, I don’t think they ever made a better one than the album’s title track. Not necessarily because it is their most ambitious or adventurous song, but because everything that makes Nits unique seems to come together in those few minutes: the melody, the melancholy, the strangeness, the humour, the unmistakably European imagery and that peculiar ability to turn something very ordinary into something almost mythical.

This blog isn’t meant to be a complete history of Nits. There are plenty of places to find one, and after almost fifty years there would be far too much ground to cover anyway. I mainly want to share my enthusiasm for a band that, I am convinced, could appeal to a much larger audience than the one that currently knows them.

And I want to do that through three of my favourite Nits albums.

They are not necessarily the three albums I would recommend as an introduction to the band. If you don’t know Nits at all and have become curious, there is the excellent compilation Nits Hits. Better still, there is Urk, their magnificent 1989 live album. Start there and you get something close to a map of the Nits universe as it existed at the end of their most celebrated decade.

But my own route leads somewhere else.

TENT is the 1979 debut, and on it you hear a very different Nits to how they sound today, a band much more inspired by Kraftwerk than by the Sex Pistols. A few years ago, Nits decided to revisit their earliest records and perform the first few albums live in their entirety. During rehearsals they made an amusing discovery: it had seemed like a great idea, until they realised that the songs were considerably more complicated to play than they remembered.

And perhaps that tells you something important about TENT. The New Wave you hear on the surface may sound angular, immediate and relatively simple, but underneath it is music that is surprisingly intricate and layered. Nits were already thinking like arrangers rather than simply like a New Wave band. In that sense, TENT belongs alongside the records by those more ambitious bands that, while the seventies were still coming to an end, were already busy inventing the sound of the eighties.

And then, then comes Ting.

Released in 1992, Ting feels like the moment when Nits decided to remove almost everything that wasn’t absolutely necessary. Even the title sounds like the record. Ting: the sound of a raindrop, perhaps, or a bicycle passing by, but above all the sound of a piano key being struck.

The piano on this album is extraordinarily clear. On a first listen, its sound may occasionally bring to mind Keith Jarrett’s The Köln Concert or Philip Glass’s solo piano music. I don’t mean that Ting resembles either of them musically in any straightforward sense. It is the physical quality of the piano that creates the association: the touch of the keys, the space around the notes, the way every tone seems to exist for a moment on its own before disappearing.

And that space is essential to Ting. Where other bands might have filled it, Nits use it as an instrument. Songs seem to emerge from silence and retreat into it again. Small sounds suddenly matter. A note, a voice, a piece of percussion, a pause: everything has weight precisely because there is so little competing for your attention.

It is a remarkably restrained record made by a band that, by then, had already proved how much it could do. Ting is interesting because Nits chose instead to show how much they could leave out.

dA dA dA, from 1994, is probably Nits’ most solid album. And by solid, I mean solid in the way Crowded House’s songs and albums are solid: always good, always distinctive, seemingly effortless and built to last. If you stretch that comparison a little further, then Whales of Tadoussac is the album’s Don’t Dream It’s Over. But the difference between those two titles already tells you how limited the shelf life of that comparison is. Crowded House may be a useful reference point for the craftsmanship, but Nits remain far too peculiar to stay inside it for long.

That becomes increasingly clear in the album’s second half, where the band’s more adventurous, artistic side gradually takes over. The songs become less straightforward, the atmosphere stranger, and the record starts moving into territory that could only really belong to Nits. It is also here that Day and the Night, my personal favourite, appears, tucked away in the second half of what I consider one of the high points of their entire oeuvre.

For those of you who have somehow remained unaware of Nits until now, I wish you a very happy journey of discovery.
There is almost fifty years of wonderful, strange and unmistakably European music waiting for you.

Bleu: Finding Joy in the Shadow of Loss

Posted on by patrickdonders

On Sargeant Pepper Grinder, Bleu turns grief into something bright, melodic and deeply human. The album is both a tribute to friends who are no longer here and a celebration of the people, memories and small moments that remain. Wrapped in the kind of irresistible melodies and harmonies that have long defined his songwriting, these are songs that don’t shy away from loss, but refuse to surrender to it either.

We spoke with Bleu about writing through grief, the strange kinship between sadness and power pop, obsessing over songcraft, and why Sargeant Pepper Grinder has ultimately become a memorial to friendship.

Sargeant Pepper Grinder feels like a very personal record. You describe it as an upbeat meditation on death and a celebration of friends who are no longer here. Was making the album a way of dealing with those losses, or did the songs simply become the place where those feelings naturally ended up?

Making this album was definitely a way of “dealing with” (processing, mourning, etc.) several very deep losses. Writing songs for my own artist project has always been a form of therapy for me, but many of these songs were a particularly palpable example of that. The recording process then became a way to commiserate, heal, and deepen connections with my friends who are still here, many of whom were also very close to Ducky and/or Alex “Scootch” Scutro.

Power Pop has always had this wonderful ability to hide sadness inside bright melodies and beautiful harmonies. On this album, though, the emotions feel particularly close to the surface. How do you find the balance between making something musically joyful and allowing the lyrics to be genuinely painful or vulnerable?

That seeming dichotomy is a hallmark of some power-pop that I’ve always loved. Just as humor helps many of us get through painful experiences, exuberant and tuneful music can help lift us from the valleys of crushing loss. I’ve also learned through therapy that two conflicting feelings can legitimately exist at the same time, and I think that juxtaposition brings a deeper meaning to life. But the main reason this album contains so much of that kind of thing is because I wanted to write music that Ducky and Scootch would’ve liked, and neither gravitated to sad-sack songs!

You’ve always been an incredibly melodic songwriter, but on this album the melodies sometimes seem almost deliberately at odds with what you’re singing about. Do you ever start with the emotional weight of a lyric and then look for a melody that gives it some lightness, or does the music usually come first?

When I write for “BLEU” (“me songs”) I almost always start with lyrics, usually a title with a concept, starting with the hook and moving on from there. In the case of this record though, that was obviously in service of conveying some pretty heavy emotions. I think “melodic songwriting” is just part of my DNA, but there’s certainly plenty thought (craft) that goes into melodic shape and in particular melodic-rhythm, and these songs were no exception. Even when I’m writing something heavy and the emotions are flowing, I can’t help but work the songcraft.

You produced and mixed the entire album yourself. Did keeping that process largely in your own hands matter to you, especially with material this personal?

Yes and no. I’m very open to collaboration, and worked with many talented songwriters, musicians, engineers, and Atmos mixers on this album, most of whom I think would agree that they weren’t particularly “over-produced.” But there was no way I wasn’t going to obsess over these songs, and producing and mixing it myself meant I wasn’t unnecessarily bothering other people (haAa!)

Looking across the songs on Sargeant Pepper Grinder, there’s a real sense of finding joy in people, memories and small moments. Did writing these songs change the way you look at those things, or perhaps make you appreciate them differently?

I look at this record now as a memorial. I truly wanted to create a tangible and (hopefully) long lasting tribute to Ducky and Scootch, as well as a heartfelt and healing expression of grief for myself and others. But yes, working on this record was very much a path to creating joy, memories, and small-moments – with my friends and family who are still around.

Little Windows — The Corner Laughers on Concerns of Wasp and Willow

Posted on by patrickdonders


A Chiming Back interview, finding its new home at Sweet Sweet Music Blog.

Karla Kane describes her songs as windows. Small ones, carefully made — you look through them and find yourself inside a world that is unmistakably hers: botanical, seasonal, slightly haunted, and shot through with an unexpected warmth. On Concerns of Wasp and Willow, the sixth album by Northern California’s The Corner Laughers, that world feels more fully realized than ever. Released on Big Stir Records on March 27, 2026, it is a record that begins in a small detail and pulls slowly outward — like a camera finding its frame.

The band — Kane (vocals, ukulele), Khoi Huynh (bass, piano, guitars), KC Bowman (guitars, keyboards) and Charlie Crabtree (drums) — have been crafting their literate, handcrafted folk pop together since the early 2000s. Concerns of Wasp and Willow arrives five years after their pandemic-era Temescal Telegraph, and finds them doing something quietly courageous: releasing something tender and precise into a world that seems to reward neither.

We spoke to Karla Kane about windows, details, and what it means to let a record go.

Your songs feel built from very small, precise details — both lyrically and in the instrumentation. Is it a way of writing, or a way of seeing the world?

I suppose songwriting is a reflection of a way of seeing the world — songs are like little windows. Often my songs seem to start from a small detail and then expand outward, like a camera pulling to a wider shot I guess. We definitely do try to put care into the details.

Listening to Concerns of Wasp and Willow while the world around me seems to be getting louder and cruder — I wonder, how does it feel to release something this tender and precise?

With so much going on in the world, and so many important issues, sometimes it feels a bit silly to even spend time on something like this, or to hope it reaches anyone. But on the other hand, in terms of a louder and cruder world, we’re proud to release something more gentle and thoughtful, too. It might not get much attention but we hope those it does reach will feel it is worthwhile.


The artwork has such a distinctive, immediately recognizable language — it feels like it inhabits the same world as the songs. Is that unity between music and image something you consciously pursue? Or is it more that you tend to draw people around you who feel the same things?

The artwork was created by our dear and brilliant friend Jennifer Rae Atkins, who is currently based in the Netherlands, and I’m so glad you see it as inhabiting the same world as the songs.

I called the songs windows earlier on and I think of the album cover as a visual window into the sonic world of the album, absolutely.

It is something we consciously pursue — I shared not only some of the songs themselves with Jennifer as she was working on the art but also some ideas and imagery that I felt were key.

And then she worked her magic to bring it all to visual life!

Your songs feel like glimpses into the way you see the world. And then you bring them to the rest of the band. How does it go from there?

Yes, whichever of us is the songwriter (me in most of the cases on this album, but there is also a song by Khoi written with our friend Helen Luker and one written by KC) has a demo with the music, lyrics and any production ideas.

Once it’s in the studio with the band, it is further refined and evolves into something more, with all of our fingerprints on it.

The first reviews are coming in. Do they still reach you — or does a record feel finished and separate from you by the time it’s out in the world?

They often do reach us. We’re very thankful for the folks who take time to review and share our work and to Big Stir Records for doing so much to build community! It doesn’t feel separate from us at this point — later on we will get some distance from it, perhaps, but for now I feel very closely connected to it.

Warm Baths & Wide Eyes: Icecream Hands on Songs, Survival, and the Joy of Making Music

Posted on by patrickdonders

As published on the Chiming Back blog on December 1st, 2025.



For this interview with Australian power-pop treasures Icecream Hands, all five members — Marcus, Smiley, Doug, Dave, and Charles — joined in, each taking on one question. The result is a warm, funny, thoughtful conversation about songwriting, survival in a shifting music industry, and the stories behind their latest album Giant Fox Pineapple Tree.

Listening to Giant Fox Pineapple Tree feels like stepping into a warm bath — absolutely wonderful. How challenging is it to stay true to that sound and never compromise on the quality of the songs, the very thing that keeps the bathwater at just the right temperature?

MARCUS: To be honest, it’s no challenge at all really, because the song is everything to us. As a band we are remarkably agreeable about what makes a great song, and with the good fortune to have such incredible songwriters as Charles and Doug, we always have a stack of solid material to choose from and work with. Having played together for so many years now, we just naturally work to our strengths as a band. It’s fair to say the songs always come first, and then we build the sound around them. The sounds and details of production are also very important of course, and we do put a lot of time and thought into that part of the process. But there’s not much point in doing that if the songs are second-rate — that would be like lukewarm bathwater.

You’ve seen the music industry transform completely since the early days of the band. What’s the biggest change you’ve had to navigate — and successfully overcome — in recent years?

SMILEY: The biggest change has been the way music is consumed today. There was a time when you could realistically hope to make a living from record sales, and touring was mainly a way to promote your music — a way to get in front of people rather than your primary income stream. But with the arrival of music-sharing platforms and, ultimately, streaming services, the whole dynamic shifted.

Napster landed in 1999 and introduced the idea of getting music for free — or close to it — through MP3 peer-to-peer downloading. That changed consumer behaviour forever. What grew out of that is today’s streaming landscape. Services like Spotify offer little to no return to the artists whose music they rely on; that, and their unethical support of military AI, is why you won’t find Giant Fox Pineapple Tree on Spotify.

These days, if we want to keep making music, we need to sell out our shows and encourage our fans to buy vinyl, CDs, and digital downloads directly from us or through Bandcamp. We also now handle our own distribution, including international releases. The traditional record-store pathway has fallen back onto the artists themselves — it’s become a bit of a cottage industry.

That said, we’ve moved with the times, and the proof is in the pudding: our recent chart success, cracking the ARIA Top 40 Albums and the Top 10 Australian Albums charts. If I’m not mistaken, we were the only truly independent release in there. Sweet as!





“Now I hear the baby crying” in “Do Ya Feel It” is such a powerful line; it pulls you straight into the story. When you first write a line like that, do you immediately know it can carry the narrative, or does it not work that way?

DOUG: Thanks Patrick. Songs always arrive in different ways for me. It’s usually a melody or a chord pattern that comes along first, and I need to try to get a feeling or an idea into the music. I do tend to struggle to find lyrics that I think are good enough to carry a narrative.

I do tend to want to write words that sound good when they fall out of the mouth, and don’t worry too much about what they mean, as long as they can evoke a feeling.

Funnily enough, that particular line was the only real thing I had. It just kinda popped into my head and it felt good, but it kinda begged the question: “Whose baby is this anyway? And why is it crying?”

I often defer to Charles on these things and asked him if it was a dumb line — I didn’t really know what it meant — and he said, “No, it’s the best line in the song!” So it stayed, and I just had to imagine some kind of scenario in which it could make a little bit of sense.

At the end of the day the song is quite nonsensical really — it’s just about finding a bit of light in the struggle and knowing that better days can come.

Giant Fox Pineapple Tree has just been released and the first reactions are coming in. Do listeners still surprise you with the way they receive the songs — or do you surprise yourself when you revisit the record?

DAVE: You know that wide-eyed, joyous expression people get when you say “Here, try this” and they take their first mouthful of something absolutely delicious that you’ve spent a long time in the kitchen preparing? It’s a lot like that!

The reactions I’ve had from friends, fans, and countrymen have all been really positive and enthusiastically wide-eyed and joyous. One always hopes that everybody will enjoy the fruits of one’s labour, so the responses I’ve encountered to Giant Fox Pineapple Tree have been very satisfying indeed.

I can’t exactly say I’m “surprised” when I listen to this remarkable body of work, as I’ve known each of these songs since they were pups. And honestly, even the home demos sounded bloody fantastic to me! Having said that — Icecream Hands always keep the element of surprise up their sleeve. You just never know what’s coming next!!

I think “Don’t Let the Party Fade Out” has a touch of Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel’s “Make Me Smile” — and I mean that as a genuine compliment. Is that kind of comparison easy to accept, or does it get frustrating when journalists try to put you in a box or reference world-famous hits just to show off their own taste?

CHARLES: I love it when journalists talk about me! And you, Patrick, can show off all you want if you mention “Make Me Smile” and a song of ours in the same sentence. I love that Steve Harley song and the recording of it — as a kid that song had such an exciting “quick, drop everything and race to the radio and turn me up” quality about it. The intro, the pauses, the bup bup bup bup backing vocals, the guitar solo, the Dylanesque delivery — so I love the comparison. I think our recording is also exciting — the drumming, the chord progressions, the lyric, the piano and bass parts, the harmony vocals, and then the guitar stings at the very end. So, many thanks for the compliment; keep them coming, please.

“It Still Rings Completely True” — Rob Bonfiglio on The Over Under.

Posted on by patrickdonders


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.

Too Much Is the Point: The Cowboys on Captain Easy’s Downfall

Posted on by patrickdonders



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.

Fuzz, Hooks & Prescriptions: An Interview with Ram Vela

Posted on by patrickdonders

There’s plenty of ’90s alternative rock and power pop running through the music of Ram Vela & the Easy Targets. You can hear echoes of Weezer, Fountains of Wayne and The Replacements, alongside the loud, melodic guitar attack of Sugar and Bob Mould. But on their new EP RX, those influences are only part of the story.

Built around the theme of prescription medication and mental health, RX finds Vela writing from a very personal place. Anxiety, depression, medication and therapy all enter the conversation; subjects that can still feel uncomfortable or even taboo to talk about openly. We spoke with Ram about putting those experiences into songs, keeping the recordings rough around the edges, his love for a great Power Pop chorus, and where the Easy Targets go from here.





RX has a really rough-around-the-edges sound that I really like. How did that become such an important part of the Easy Targets’ sound, and how do you balance that rawness with the catchy side of the songs?

That’s awesome you think the EP sounds a little rough-around-the-edges, because I am self-conscious of our recordings sounding TOO polished. While working with Matt Parmenter at Ice Cream Factory Studios, we took a live-band feel approach to tracking these tunes and overdubbing additional instruments later. Personally, I like incorporating additional guitar feedback in some spots to give songs some extra depth and hearing what sounds best/makes sense for each individual track. A song like “Alprazolamania” comes to mind (especially during the verses). Writing a catchy melody to an uptempo song or lyrics you can shout/sing-a-along to has always been important to me. Taking that songwriting philosophy(?) and combining it with what Dan, Nathan and Rachel (aka the band) bring and “Baby, you’ve got a stew going!” (RIP Carl Weathers)

RX tells a concept story about using prescription medication to treat mental health. Is there a personal story behind the EP, and if so, what made you feel that this was a story you needed to tell through music?

Yes, this EP is loosely based on my own personal experiences taking prescription drugs to treat my anxiety and depression. In 2022, I started Zoloft and it has really helped me navigate the stresses of day-to-day life ever since. While I’m grateful to have access to these types of medications, I know there are so many out there that don’t have that same privilege. I didn’t take all of the medications listed in the song titles, but know several friends who have, and thought it was important to tell these stories in a creative way to continue normalizing mental health.



“Buspirone” is one of my favorites on the EP. The staccato guitar and punk energy give it this incredibly catchy Power Pop feel. Did you realize while writing or recording it that you had something special with that song?

First off, thank you so much. Secondly, this was an extremely difficult song to write because 1.) it’s very personal to me and 2.) delicate subject matter. I remember it starting with that guitar riff and just building from there. During the recording of this song, I was worried that the more sections we added, the more it would potentially drag. I am thankful we didn’t cut anything, because it flows so well! The outro is the sentimental cherry on top leading to the automated phone message.

How did Ram Vela & the Easy Targets come about, and did you know from the beginning what kind of band you wanted it to be and what you wanted the music to sound like?

Yes, we definitely had an idea of what we wanted to sound like. I’ve been playing in bands in Austin for 20+ years and with Dan and Nathan for 10 now, but it took a while to realize what style of songs I was comfortable writing and performing. I love bands like Cheap Trick, Marshall Crenshaw and The Replacements but wanted to add some 90’s alt-rock madness to the mix (Weezer’s “Blue Album,” Fountains of Wayne, Harvey Danger’s “Flagpole Sitta”). I think our band is a solid representation of those styles of rock/power-pop. Also, I just love choruses you can sing-along to, dammit!

Now that RX is out, what does the future look like for Ram Vela & the Easy Targets? Are you already thinking about where you want to take the sound and the story next?

Writing new music! It’s funny that I shared a voice memo of a new song on Instagram stories today and somebody already messaged asking if this next album is gonna be about therapy. As someone who sees a therapist regularly, I’m definitely not opposed to it! As for the future of the band, I would like to continue making music and collaborating more as a group. It helps that we’re close friends, so rehearsing/creating new material comes naturally and isn’t a stressful process. But yea, the future is still terrifying. In the words of Garth Algar, “Live in the Now!”

Radio Days: Still Chasing the Perfect Chorus

Posted on by patrickdonders


For more than two decades, Milan’s Radio Days have remained devoted to the timeless pleasures of Power Pop: sharp melodies, ringing guitars, big harmonies and choruses that refuse to leave your head. With their fifth album, Off The Record, arriving on September 4, the band sound as energized as ever, connecting their love of ’60s melody and late-’70s Power Pop with the renewed enthusiasm surrounding the genre today.

We caught up with Radio Days singer, guitarist and songwriter Dario Persi to talk about the making of Off The Record, how he knows when a song is really working, the band’s upcoming touring plans and why, after more than twenty years, the search for the perfect Power Pop song continues.

You’ve been making Power Pop for more than two decades now, and the sound you love is rooted very much in the late ’70s and early ’80s. What is it about that particular sound that has kept you inspired for so many years? Has your idea of what makes great Power Pop changed over time?

It’s true, time flies when you’re having fun! Haha!

Joking aside, we’ve always loved this music, and even though there have been some stylistic differences from record to record, we’ve kept playing it because it’s the music we love and the music we would want to listen to ourselves.

I think that, fundamentally, Power Pop is all about the songs. Without great songs, you can’t really go anywhere. So, for us, it’s about having a great, catchy but intelligent melody, some beautiful ’60s-style harmonies, and the energy and attitude of the late ’70s. That combination still feels perfect to us today.

How did Off The Record actually begin? At what point do you realize that you have enough new material to start thinking, “Okay, this is going to be a new Radio Days album”?

It was actually quite a planned and structured process. In mid-2023, we finished the tour for Rave On!, our previous album, and decided to take a break from touring to focus on writing a new record.

It took us about a year and a half, between writing the songs — which I mainly do at home with an acoustic guitar — and arranging them, which we do all together in our rehearsal room.

We wrote around 20 new songs and recorded pre-production demos of all of them. Then we selected 15 to officially record in the studio.

From those 15, we eventually chose the 10 that would make it onto Off The Record. The other five will be B-sides for some of the singles or will be released in the future!

Off The Record is coming out soon. When is the release date, and what are your plans for the rest of the year? Are there concerts, touring or other Radio Days activities we can look forward to?

Yes, we’re almost there! Our final single, “Another Lonely Night,” will be released on August 21st, and then Off The Record will be out on September 4th.

We already have a few shows booked in Italy, and at the end of October and beginning of November we’ll be doing a 10-date tour in Spain. We’ll be announcing those dates in the next few days.

After that, we’re working on a tour of Japan for April/May 2027 — exactly ten years after our first time in the Land of the Rising Sun!

“Flying High” sounds like the ultimate Power Pop song to me — immediate, melodic and incredibly catchy. When you write a song, how do you know when you’ve got something really special? Is there a moment when you realize, “This one is better than the rest”?

Thanks, I’m really glad you like it! It was actually the first song out of the 20 or so that we wrote for Off The Record.

Usually, I can tell pretty quickly if something is working when I come up with a good chorus or a good verse. I record it right away and send it to the others, and if they don’t shoot it down and everyone likes it, then I know we’ve got something!

It’s a strange process. Sometimes I can’t come up with anything for months, and other times I manage to write two or three good songs in a single week. It really depends on my mental state, my mood, my motivation… It’s not easy to figure out!

There seems to be a renewed interest in catchy, melodic guitar Pop at the moment, with bands like The Lemon Twigs, Mod Lang and others attracting a lot of attention. Do you feel that this new enthusiasm for Power Pop and ’70s-inspired Pop has reached Italy as well? And do you feel part of a new wave, or do you see Radio Days as continuing something you’ve been doing all along?

It’s great to see these younger bands getting into the genre. The Lemon Twigs have changed quite a bit compared to their early days and have become more Power Pop and ’60s-influenced, and I absolutely loved that change. Mod Lang have also made a fantastic record.

There has never really been a big scene for this kind of music in Italy, but I’ve definitely noticed more people becoming interested in it over the last few years.

I’d say we’re probably too old to be part of this new wave, haha! But we’re also really happy to see a bit more interest in a genre that we’ve been carrying on for so many years. I think it’s good for everyone.