On Sunday, April 6, 2025, Paul Collins played at the new dBs here in Utrecht. He had promised “60 Minutes of Power Pop” beforehand, and that’s exactly what we got: in a blistering one-two-three-go rhythm, he blasted through nearly all the classics from the first two The Beat albums, along with a handful of gems from The Nerves. Collins was the undisputed King of Power Pop, urging his much younger backing band on with infectious energy, never letting the pace drop for a second.
Next to me, I saw my two sons, aged 21 and almost 23, watching it all with big smiles. During “Hanging on the Telephone,” a spontaneous family dance broke out, and for a moment, we found ourselves in Power Pop heaven.
What an amazing night!
That Utrecht show was just one stop on a unique tour in which Collins performed with different backing bands. The entire adventure has now been captured in a wonderful documentary, following the tour from rehearsals to performances around the world.
I spoke with Paul about how the film came together, what it was like working with so many different musicians, and why the project has already been attracting attention from film festivals. He also shared some exciting news about an upcoming release celebrating the 50th anniversary of The Nerves.
How did the idea for the movie come about?
Paul Collins: I was in Mallorca after I did that show for Paco, and one morning I said to myself, “I really want to document this. I want to let everyone know that I did it.”
I thought it was a tremendous undertaking, and I really surprised myself with how well it turned out.
I’d collected clips that people had posted about the different shows, so I thought I would use those as the basis for putting everything together. One of the clips was done by the filmmaker Tom Fleming, and it was of a very high quality. So when I got in touch with him, I thought I’d ask, “Do you want to help me make this into a film?” His immediate answer was yes, and I’m so glad that he did, because I think it turned out great.
60 Minutes of Power Pop is such a great concept. Did the idea come together all at once, or did it evolve over time?
Paul Collins: Yes, it all came together at the same time.
I was thinking about how I could improve the shows, which is something you’re always doing. How can I make it better? How can I get people to come out?
And it just came to me in a flash. Why don’t I just do the best songs by The Beat and The Nerves? There are so many, and that would be non-stop power pop!
Just one great song after another.
So that was the inspiration for everything. Once I had that, everything else just snowballed.
In the film we see you performing with a number of different backing bands, and it all seems to come together effortlessly. I imagine organizing that must have been quite a challenge. How did you make it work?
Paul Collins: I surprised myself with how easily it fell into place, although I knew each time I was taking a tremendous gamble that it might not work out.
I vetted the bands as best I could. Toyozo I knew from Japan, and I knew he was serious about this music. I had total faith that he would come up with two guys of the same caliber, and they were amazing. We really could have done it after one rehearsal. After the first rehearsal, I said, “Wow, it’s done.” But we did the second one just to be on the safe side.
It was more or less the same thing with every band. The Manikins, again, I vetted them. I saw that they were touring, and they were from Switzerland. The Swiss are famous for being very meticulous. Once again, when I showed up, they had everything locked down, and it was really amazing. I gave myself a number of days in their hometown. They put me up in a very nice place, so I got to hang out there. We had a buffer in case there were any problems, but we really didn’t need it.
It just kind of went on like that. The guys in France, The Sutles, were the same way. I did two rehearsals with them, and we were really ready to rock. We were supposed to do more shows, but unfortunately two of them got canceled. One of the clubs closed—those kinds of screw-ups.
I loved playing with them. I was really hoping we could do more shows, and hopefully we will in the future.
The same thing happened with the guys in California. That was another case where a club owner sent me a video of them doing “Working Too Hard,” and I got in touch with them. They immediately said yes, and I went out there. Again, I had a buffer. I think I was there for almost ten days, just hanging out with them.
That was really a lot of fun. I stayed with Dustin and his family, got to know his wife and his kid, and we did it Long Beach style.
We had time to do a couple of rehearsals, but basically I didn’t do more than two rehearsals with any of these bands, including the guys in Mallorca. We’re old friends.
The film is currently being booked for several film festivals, and there already seems to be a lot of enthusiasm from festival programmers. Why do you think it has struck such a chord with them?
Paul Collins: Well, it’s been a real eye-opening experience submitting to festivals because of the way they go about things. You have to submit, and then you have to wait a long time before you find out whether you’re even in.
So far, we’ve been lucky. We’ve been accepted in Los Angeles, Berlin, Paris, and, most recently, Tokyo, and we’re hoping for more.
We’ve also submitted to Barcelona, the Woodstock Festival here in New York, and the Long Beach Festival, so hopefully we’ll get some more acceptances.
To date, the only showing we’ve had in a movie theater was in Los Angeles. A bunch of my friends went, Tom Fleming went, and Softjaw went too. It was great. They saw it on the big screen, and everybody loved it.
That’s the caveat, though, because getting accepted into a festival doesn’t always mean your film gets screened. They can only show a certain number of films.
So the second tier is finding out whether they’re actually going to show your film, and we’re still waiting to hear about that from some of these festivals.
At a certain point, we’ll just turn it over to our own platforms and let everybody see it.
We have a two-year license to do that, and we will.
Looking back at the past few years—the touring, the recording, and now the film—what keeps you inspired and gives you the energy to keep going full throttle?
Paul Collins: That’s the easy part. What keeps me going is that I love it.
This last show, The Best of The Nerves and The Beat, is also coupled with the fact that Third Man Records is releasing the 50th anniversary edition of The Nerves on October 8, which they’ll be announcing soon. It’s a double album with all those great songs.
We included some of the Breakaways songs along with the Nerves songs—everything from the vintage 1974 to 1978 period. We found the source tapes, and most of it is studio material, so the sound is incredible. It’s a great document of the work that Jack Lee, Peter Case, and I did.
So it’s a great impetus to go out there and perform this stuff.
The last show I did here in New York was my best show in New York in many, many years. We played TV Eye, it was sold out, and the audience was just fantastic. There were people like yourself with their kids, people on first dates, young kids, older kids—kids my age. We’re all kids.
So it’s a very nice situation now. The people who follow this kind of music, and the people who follow my music, are great. It’s just wonderful. Without sounding corny, it’s a loving crowd, and I really enjoy it. It gives me a tremendous amount of satisfaction to be able to do it, and I’m happy with the place I’m in now.
I’m able to do what I do, and I have no trouble surviving these days, so it’s all good.
The Junior League has just dropped a new EP, Nattering Nabobs, and their latest full-length album, Our Broadcast Day, is set for release on October 4. Joe Adragna has evolved his sound to be “more Gram, less The Knack,” offering a delightful treat for fans of twangy power pop and roots pop.
You released an EP and will release an entire album in October; did the inspiration just keep coming?
I had 15 or 16 songs going. I didn’t want to make the full-length album too long. In the past, I feel like my records have often been two or three songs too long. Sometimes, those extra songs aren’t quite as strong as the others and should have been left off. In this case, I wanted to keep the full length as concise as possible—although it’s still 10 songs!
How did you decide which song went on the album and which went on the EP?
I felt like “Skinny Tie” and “Nattering Nabobs” fit together musically but didn’t blend as well with the other songs on the full-length album, which is called Our Broadcast Day. I had a song I wrote late in the sessions for this called “Kinda Lost” that I liked and that would have fit on Our Broadcast Day. It was a toss-up between that one and “Two Ways To Go” as to what would be on the EP. In the end, I felt like “Two Ways To Go” fit the record better all around and served as a good opening track.
Your sound evolved, didn’t it? More Gram, less The Knack?
Hahaha, yeah—there are still tambourines and jangle elements, but this record is a bit more laid-back than parts of Bridge and Tunnel, or certainly Adventureland. It has more in common with Fall Back, maybe—but I think this is a much better record. Hopefully, I’m getting a little better at this!
“Skinny Tie” will immediately catch the eye of every power pop lover. What’s the story?
Well, I think it’s a funny song. I wrote it with every power pop cliché I could think of! Hahaha. It was inspired by some very “passionate” arguments I had seen or heard online about what is (or isn’t) power pop. I can see how those terms might make people feel boxed in if they let it.
Both releases are so solid. You knew you had a truckload of good songs when you started recording? Thank you for saying that. I felt strong enough about the songs to release both the EP and the full-length. To be honest, though, I never know what I think of anything until it’s all over. I tried to be more selective this time—as I mentioned earlier, I’ve had one or two too many songs on some of my records. I might like a song, but it might not be the best song, if that makes sense. I think these are just right, he said hopefully!
A Talk with Jeb Barry on the Release of The Typicals: The 1980s-90s Power Pop Band’s Final Recording, Released 32 Years After It Was Recorded, Lost, and Then Discovered.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
The Typicals formed around 1986 as a four-piece band centered around Jeb Barry and Michael O’Neill’s songwriting. They wrote all their songs separately and then brought them to the band to arrange. “I never told anyone what to play when we learned a new song I wrote; we let them create their own parts. Mike did the same,” Barry explains.
Due to musicians moving on to other careers, by 1990, we were a three-piece with a new drummer. Our songs had gotten harder and less powerpop. We decided to record live at CBGBs on DAT tape for a future live album release of all new songs. Unfortunately, the sound engineer only recorded one channel, so it was a waste, although it was fun to play there (we had previously focused on the Boston area for shows).
Since I had a fairly expensive DAT tape, we booked an hour with a local studio where we recorded our first two self-releases (Popscreams and The Poverty Sessions). We recorded it live in one shot, except for one song we did four times but kept the first take.
We ended it all right in the middle of talking to DGC (David Geffen Company), who loved our stuff. But the band was entering their 30s, and the music business at the time was not a great place to be. People thought I was crazy to walk away. LOL
How did DGC get interested?
Before this, we had met and talked to a few major record companies and sent out dozens of copies of our album, but nothing came of it. In 1991, I saw that DGC was a new subsidiary that had signed a band I knew through college radio, Nirvana, for a million-dollar advance. I decided to stop sending out albums and tapes and created a small promo pack of articles and reviews of the band.
Cindy Peters from Gary Gersh’s A&R office at DGC called my house later. She told me to send her a tape of three songs and instructed me to put a special code on the bottom right of the envelope, or else it would be thrown away. I did that, and she called a week or so later, saying they loved it but thought we sounded like a band they had recently released, Nirvana. I had recently gotten the Nirvana CD and didn’t see the comparison, but she pointed out similarities like soft verses and hard choruses. She requested more songs, so I sent some new and some old, including rockers and acoustic ones.
She called again, saying the new songs reminded her of The Posies and requested more. This happened a few more times before I decided I didn’t want to travel around the country in a crappy van playing low-level shows for little money and walked away. I did not return the next few phone calls from Cindy.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
Probably the first time we played as a three-piece. I (Jeb) had to play bass on Mike’s song (except for “This Lonely One,” where I played bass on my own song) and vice versa. It made the songs simpler yet more intense compared to our older material.
The decision to seek opinions on your new songs is intriguing. When did you realize that external perspectives could contribute to your creative process?
I think that happens from the first time you play, especially performing original material. You seek input from others outside the band to gauge the impact of the material.
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
Our only goal when we recorded this was to give others an idea of how we sounded live as a three-piece and how the band was changing. This had nothing to do with the emerging grunge sound that was starting to become popular. As a three-piece, we needed to play the new songs more aggressively—and louder too.
Within this collection, do you feel that the best song you’ve ever written finds its home? If not, what distinguishes this record’s essence from your prior work?
As a songwriter (currently writing and performing under the name Pawn Shop Saints and doing Americana with some acoustic powerpop added in, e.g., the song “Diane”), I’m still trying to write that perfect song. That’s why I keep writing. But my favorite of this bunch is probably “This Lonely One.” It just stood out to me when I wrote it and when we recorded it.
As an artist, the act of baring your emotions to the world is profound. Does this vulnerability come naturally to you, or is it a constant journey of finding comfort?
Since all my songs are not written with any relation to me, I don’t really bare any emotions. All my songs are like films, where I create plots, scenarios, and characters to play out the song’s theme. Some people think I am writing about myself, or sometimes I’m writing about them, but I don’t do that. It’s all fantasy or fiction.
Imagine you could collaborate with three co-writers of your choice for new songs. Who would you select, and what qualities or dynamics draw you to them?
I have only co-written once, with Jason Isbell via Twitter (that’s another story). But in 1992, it would have been Tommy Keene, Marshall Crenshaw, U2, Elvis Costello, or Springsteen.
Today, it would still be Elvis, Springsteen, Isbell, and Steve Earle. I’d even include Taylor Swift since she writes very differently from me, and I love challenges.
Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds an indelible place in your memory and why does it stand out?
CBGB’s was cool, but probably our first show at The Rat in Boston or the frat party we played for hundreds of drunk college kids in the pouring rain. They had a big mud puddle they were jumping in right in front of the stage. It was cold and miserable, but fun.
Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?
I guess it’s different for all songwriters, but like most, I just know when something isn’t working and needs to be changed. If it’s a song I think is good, I’ll work on it until it hits that comfort zone. Recording is a different beast. I may have a sound in my head I’m striving for in the studio, but sometimes it just doesn’t work. I’ve scrapped and rerecorded several songs in the studio. Luckily now, I can do that in my own home studio.
Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?
Since I don’t have any goals to be commercial and never have, I just do what I like. In 1992, that’s what we did. We didn’t try to sound like anyone, jump on the grunge train, or try to be hip or popular. We just had fun. It’s the same today.
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
Every song could have a line that has meaning to somebody. I’m not sure any of them are profound, but listeners might catch a line or two that they feel speaks directly to them.
Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?
I feel I’ve written a lot of catchy songs that few people have heard. As for a hit, I’m not sure. I still think “This Lonely One” is a hit powerpop song. Since I don’t write in one genre and mix it up a lot, there could be hit country, pop, rock, Americana songs in my catalog. I’ve written thousands of songs—most are crap, but there are a handful I could perform every night. Usually, the simpler ones are the best for me, like “She Comes Along,” an unreleased Typicals song, which was always a crowd favorite and the first song of mine another band covered.
With the resurgence of cassettes, imagine curating your inaugural mixtape. Which five songs would be must-adds and why?
For The Typicals, they would be:
“She Comes Along”
“This Lonely One” (Mike’s guitar work/hook really makes the song)
“The Cold Shoulder” (another unreleased Typicals song, slower and groovier)
“I Could Be The One” (Mike’s song from the Popscreams album)
“The 4th Of July” (from The Poverty Sessions cassette)
I’d pick these all for the same reason: they are catchy. Mike, I’m sure, would pick different ones.
Performing music before an audience holds a unique allure. What aspects of this experience contribute to the excitement and enjoyment for you?
Just getting the interaction of the crowd, even if they are just listening. As a songwriter, it’s incredibly rewarding to have people actually listen to your songs, especially when doing a solo show. I did a solo show at the Bluebird in Nashville a few years ago, and there was no talking. Everyone just sat and actually listened.
While you can’t dictate how people interpret your music, are there specific elements you wish to highlight that set your songs apart?
For The Geffen Tapes, it was the hooks of the songs and the energy that we were trying to get across. Anything beyond that was a bonus. Today, it’s more about the lyrics and stories in the songs that I hope listeners pick up on.
If tasked with introducing your music through three songs, which ones would you choose and what story do they collectively convey to new listeners?
In 1992, it would have been “This Lonely One,” “Going Steady Still” (from Popscreams), and “This Lonely One” again since I think they are good, angst-tinged power rock songs.
In a hypothetical scenario where you could tour with two other bands, who would be your ideal companions and what synergies do you envision?
In 1992, it would have been Nirvana and U2 (my favorite band, and they’re Irish, so that’s a plus). I think The Typicals could have added a similar yet different sound to either band as a supporting group, which is actually what you want for a concert. Since we were all around the same age, that wouldn’t hurt either.
Studio moments often hold a touch of magic. Could you recount an instance that stands out as the most enchanting during your creative process?
For The Typicals, we never had much money, and there was no home recording then. If you wanted to record, you had to book time in a real studio, which wasn’t cheap. We recorded at Derek Studios in Dalton, Massachusetts, the only one around (another local, Arlo Guthrie, recorded there too). Since it was expensive, we learned to be well-rehearsed and record quickly. Our first album, Popscreams, was done live in the studio with vocal overdubs. We did it so fast that we had time to record four acoustic songs. The same was true for the second one, the EP The Poverty Sessions (named by Mike because the mixing took twice as long as the recording and was very costly). But the first time you listen to a final mix of your first recorded song and hold that album in your hands is unforgettable.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
We came close to something with DGC, but essentially we were a local original band that only did originals (all other local bands were cover bands) and put out our own music. One reason we did an album ourselves was because all the local ‘experts’ said it couldn’t be done and that you needed a record company. But since we had no management or money for promotions or tours, we were pretty restricted to being a Massachusetts band. But we showed a lot of bands that you could put out your own DIY records.
Envision recruiting three singers to provide harmony vocals on your next record. Who would you invite, and what qualities do they possess that resonate with you?
In 1992, it would have to be:
Susanna Hoffs—she has a one-in-a-million voice.
Robin Zander—he still has a powerful voice.
Scott Miller of Game Theory—he has a unique and standout voice.
With the record completed and the music released, do you believe the pinnacle of enjoyment has been reached, or is this just the beginning of an exciting phase?
Since it’s been 32 years after the recording, we don’t expect much at all. It’s hard to stand out in today’s mass-produced music world, but maybe someone will hear it, like it, and promote it to the right person to reach a larger audience. But if not, that’s okay. I really don’t expect to hear us on SiriusXM anytime soon or hear from a label looking to press the songs. We do have some more unreleased Typicals songs, mostly Tascam 4-track recordings, that will see the light of day in the next few months, and maybe some live show songs. It all depends on the quality of the cassette tapes. If they are lo-fi, that’s fine since we love that type of sound.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
The homemade album with the songs “She Comes Along,” “Cold Shoulder,” and “Oh Janine” from 1988 should see a digital release by Christmas. Plus, I may record another Pawn Shop Saints album or do a compilation of all the powerpopish songs the Saints have recorded—all for fun!
Can you take us through the creative journey of bringing this album to life? What were the key milestones, challenges, and breakthroughs you experienced along the way?
As described above, the show at CBGBs was a letdown on the recording side, but the live tape came out pretty well. The original DAT tape disappeared, and all I had was a cassette tape I recently found while cleaning out old Typicals cassettes. It’s not the best sound compared to the original tape, but after 32 years, it’s not bad. I tried remastering it, but it actually didn’t need anything, which is a kudos to the recording engineer, Greg Steele. I finally decided to put it out on the internet for free, especially since I don’t have the funds to press a record or CD. But maybe someday.
How would you describe the evolution of your sound in this new album compared to your previous works? Were there intentional shifts in style or themes?
Harder and rougher—not as pretty. Maybe our influence from The Clash or Dinosaur Jr. (who lived less than an hour from us in Massachusetts) was coming through, but who knows? I think we all just wanted a more powerful style, especially as a three-piece.
With this fresh collection of songs, how do you envision connecting with both your existing fanbase and new listeners? Are there specific emotions or messages you hope they’ll resonate with?
Since we’re releasing them 32 years later, most, if not all, of our fanbase is gone. So, we are starting from scratch three decades later. But these songs haven’t been heard outside of DGC, so maybe someone will randomly hear them, like them, and the sound. Or they might get lost in the modern music era.
Back then, if I hadn’t walked away from the business, I’m not sure what would have happened. Perhaps nothing. We might have stayed a regional act making no money and working crappy jobs.
Albums often involve collaboration with various musicians and producers. Could you shed light on how these collaborations contributed to shaping the album’s identity?
Greg Steele (who passed in 2023) usually just produced and left the engineering to others, as was done with our prior albums. This time, for the live recording, he did the engineering so we could get the best sound with no overdubs or fixes. It was all recorded directly to a DAT tape. The results didn’t need to be mastered or changed in any way. There were no other musicians—just myself, Mike, and Sean playing the same set we did at CBGBs a couple of weeks earlier.
In the digital age, visual elements are intertwined with music. How did you approach the album’s visual aesthetics, such as album art and accompanying visuals? How do they complement the sonic experience you’ve crafted?
I have an art degree but still appreciate the DIY look of many of the 1980s-1990s self-releases. Most of our posters and flyers were hand-drawn, and even our first album cover was hand-drawn since we couldn’t afford text paste-ups. For the cover, we went for a simple, time-period-appropriate look: a photo of us outside CBGBs and nothing else. If I had to design an entire album jacket, I’d keep with that theme.
If The Posies are one of your favorite bands, I’m sure you’ll love New York’s Yours & Mine. They’re that good! After releasing an EP in 2017, they’re back with this hit that sounds both fresh and mature. It’s my summer 2024 album! And luckily, there’s plenty of summer left to enjoy it!
Greg talks about how ‘The Shadow You Cast’ came about.
You can find ‘Pushing up Daisies’ showcased on the Best Power Pop of 2024 Spotify Playlist.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
This record has been a long time in the making. I wrote the majority of these songs between 2014 and 2018. I went through some ups and downs with a significant other during that time (which ultimately ended in breaking up and ending an engagement). Looking back, it’s all water under the bridge, but those songs serve as a well-documented timestamp in my life. I usually write my songs on acoustic guitar. If it sounds good on acoustic, it usually translates nicely to electric and full band arrangements.
As far as crafting the arrangements with the band and recording them, to make a long story short, life sometimes gets in the way (for better or for worse). Just trying to get by financially was probably one of the biggest factors (2018-2021). When you work a 40+ hour week, there’s just not a lot of time left to make music. Then came the pandemic, which pushed a huge pause button in everyone’s life. It really impacted the band because we all moved out of NYC. Kris (bass) moved to North Carolina, Dan (drums) moved to Rockland County, NY, across the Hudson River, and I moved way upstate. Lastly, my family welcomed two amazing children into our lives in 2021 and 2023. All that is to say, there has been a lot going on, and I’ve found pockets of time here and there to slowly chip away at writing and recording this record. We tracked the rhythm section (drums and bass) in 2018, and I soon began tracking the guitars and vocals. The more I tracked, the more frustrated I became with my own takes and sound. It really started to weigh on me… What I envisioned in my mind’s ear was not what I was hearing in the recordings. So I took a break from recording for a while, and that’s when life got busy. I’m thankful that Kris and Dan were supportive of me taking my time. Every now and then, they just gave me a gentle nudge to keep going.
It wasn’t until my wife and I moved to upstate NY in 2021 that I had the opportunity to build my own small recording studio. That’s when I finally had the time and space to reopen the sessions and begin to find the sound I was looking for. It took a few more years before I finally felt good about everything. I sent the sessions over to our bassist, Kris, who then mixed the record over the course of a month or two, then it was off to mastering… and here we are!
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
I’ve been in bands since I was 14, and my framing of “success” has changed significantly over the years. During my 20s, “success” became a numbers game. How many people bought/streamed our record? How many people came to our shows? How many reviews did we get? Those ‘number’ metrics can really consume you in a negative way. When I started Yours & Mine in 2015, I reframed “success” entirely. I’m lucky that I can make music independently with people that I love. If my only metric for “success” is that we can write, play, record, and distribute music, that’s all I can really ask for. Everything else is icing on the cake. You put your music out into the world and hope that it resonates with people. That’s a simplified answer; of course, there’s an effort put into networking and spreading the word via gigs, conversations, and social media. But at the end of the day, the success is in the music itself.
As an artist, the act of baring your emotions to the world is profound. Does this vulnerability come naturally to you, or is it a constant journey of finding comfort?
It really is a vulnerable process to write and release music. Oftentimes when I write, the lyrics come last. Melody and chords are crafted simultaneously, and I use mumbles as tentative lyrics. But once a particular lyric or phrase stands out, then I’m able to frame what the song will be about. My songs are not always autobiographical. Sometimes a story will emerge with fictional characters. “Wedding Vow” is perhaps the most vulnerable I’ve ever been. Many years ago, I was in a relationship, and we got engaged. As we were planning the wedding, we also happened to be growing apart. Our goals and future seemed to not align. Without going into detail here, we broke up and ended the engagement. I wrote that song while we were still together, and I remember thinking… There’s no way I can ever let this song see the light of day if we stay together. It turns out my instincts were correct, and maybe the songwriting process was a form of therapy for me to see it through and address some of those uncomfortable realizations! I think the sister song to “Wedding Vow” is “The Here & The Now,” which is my version of hoping it could work out (written around the same time). Even in that song, you can sense my uncertainty and doubt.
Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?
I think that songs actually blossom in the recording studio! Usually, I think a song is ready once I have lyrics, melody, chords, and we’ve rehearsed the most basic arrangement of it as a band. We’re a trio, so that’s quite simple. Once those basic pieces are recorded (rhythm guitar, bass, drums, voice), that’s when you add the layers of more guitars, harmonies, and percussion. Next to the songwriting itself, I think the arrangement and exploration of layers in the studio is my favorite part of what we do. All that being said, I think when you press playback and listen to what you have recorded and you’re not yearning for anything else, that’s when it’s complete.
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
I have a few favorite lyrics, for sure! Almost all of these songs have the common thread of uncertainty in a relationship and working through it (or out of it). It’s funny because these songs don’t have the same lyrical impact for me now (as someone who has moved on and is happily married with two children), but maybe someone is going through tough times in a relationship (or has before) and these lyrics resonate with them. I particularly like the wordplay in these:
I’m Not Ready to Go: “It’s the time of night that some call day depending who you see It’s about the time I made my way sleep”
Wedding Vow: “Maybe your words are wasted on a wedding vow Maybe those days are numbered for you anyhow You find the loosest lips upon a sinking ship You wanna tell her, but you don’t know how Maybe your words are wasted on a wedding vow”
Shadow: “Tell me what you’ve seen With your eyes of green Is it love, or is it jealousy that’s blind?”
Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?
It’s usually the songs that come quickly. I wrote “I’m Not Ready to Go” and “Wedding Vow” in an hour or less! The good ones just come off the top of your head (at least for me, personally).
In a hypothetical scenario where you could tour with two other bands, who would be your ideal companions and what synergies do you envision?
I’m a huge fan of PONY and Extra Arms. I absolutely love how both these bands blend pop, rock, and alternative (each in their own unique way). Both bands are also insanely good at creating hooks and catchy melodies. I haven’t met or interacted with either of them, but I’d love to be ‘band friends’ someday.
With the record completed and the music released, do you believe the pinnacle of enjoyment has been reached, or is this just the beginning of an exciting phase?
For me personally, the record is the timestamp. It’s the most accurate reflection of that collection of songs, so in a way, yes. Once the record is released, it feels like you’ve let it go (almost like a bird leaving the nest for the first time). I have many more songs in the vault, so now I’m already thinking about our next batch of tunes (which will probably come in the form of multiple EPs because consuming bite-sized music collections seems to be preferred in this day and age of streaming). Since the three of us live so far apart, we don’t have the opportunity to play live very often. We do have a string of shows lined up at the end of September that I’m very excited about!
On social media, it was evident that Superdrag was actively making music together again. So, I was surprised when John Davis announced a solo album. The first single, “The Future,” is fantastic—beautiful!
The album, JINX, will be released on September 27 under the Lost In Ohio label. This record stands out from Davis’ other solo work because it was initially intended to be a new Superdrag LP, which would have been the band’s first album in a decade.
Davis explains how this came about in an interview with the Sweet Sweet Music blog.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
It took quite a while. I started writing this batch of material in January 2021. Superdrag demoed most of the songs at Vibe City with Mike Armstrong, while I recorded some others on a 4-track in my garage with Brandon and Don. We took four of them into the studio, but things didn’t work out. From that point on, I thought of it as a solo record. I ended up making the album in Farragut with Stewart Pack producing, playing bass, and handling backing vocals, with his son Henry Pack engineering, mixing, and playing drums. I think we make a nice trio.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
From the moment we started getting sounds, really. I love the Strat sound. We approached the album as if that was the only guitar we had, except for a handful of Telecaster and 12-string overdubs. The amp blend was pretty much ideal— all Fender, all 10-inch speakers. It’s very “Fendery.”
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
Success, for me, looks like something self-sustaining that points toward the next project. Something that helps me, helps the label, and reaches more people than I could on my own. That’s why I’m so thankful to have the support of Lost In Ohio, Force Field, and Terrorbird.
Within this collection, do you feel that the best song you’ve ever written finds its home? If not, what distinguishes this record’s essence from your prior work?
That’s not for me to decide. The arrangements on this record are different; we were on a mission to trim any excess and avoid “circling the airport” while waiting for the next idea to happen.
As an artist, the act of baring your emotions to the world is profound. Does this vulnerability come naturally to you, or is it a constant journey of finding comfort?
It’s the only way I really know how to do it.
Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds an indelible place in your memory, and why does it stand out?
The night we jammed with Ray Davies from The Kinks at SXSW in 2001. He said we had a lot of good material. We lived on that for a while.
Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?
By finishing every idea to see where it leads. The ideas should always be in charge.
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
It’s really up to the listener to decide which lyrics move them or hold significance. I always strive to be honest and say precisely what I feel. I spent more time thinking about these individual songs than ever before, and I might never do it that way again. But as a result, I can honestly say I feel like they’re just right.
Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?
I had no idea “Sucked Out” was going to be a hit song. It’s a weird hit. But it’s a great feeling to write a hit song. We’ve been called one-hit wonders, but I guess that’s better than being no-hit wonders. Reaching people is the whole point, you know?
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
The one from Ray Davies stands out, as well as Robert Pollard calling us “good rock performers.”
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
Hopefully, just in my own lane, always following the ideas.
Envision recruiting three singers to provide harmony vocals on your next record. Who would you invite, and what qualities do they possess that resonate with you?
Brian Wilson, Carl Wilson, and Al Jardine— because they have angelic voices.
With the record completed and the music released, do you believe the pinnacle of enjoyment has been reached, or is this just the beginning of an exciting phase?
Hopefully, the record will resonate with someone immediately and then unfold over time with repeated listening.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
I plan to start writing for the 6th Superdrag LP.
Albums often involve collaboration with various musicians and producers. Could you shed light on how these collaborations contributed to shaping the album’s identity?
Having Stewart not only agree to produce but also play bass and Henry on drums provided a steady foundation of interlocking rhythm for each song, plus a good amount of melody from the bass. We spent about an hour on each song, getting the arrangement right before going for the drums.
In the digital age, visual elements are intertwined with music. How did you approach the album’s visual aesthetics, such as album art and accompanying visuals? How do they complement the sonic experience you’ve crafted?
Aaron Draplin of Draplin Design Co. did all the design. He totally crushed it. He listened to our feedback and nailed it. He’s a legend.
Billy Summer introduced himself to me by saying, “I think I’m Power Pop all the way through, but the metal and the soft rock keep me hostage.” On “Metal Detector,” the debut album of his band Florida, he proves himself right. Although the influence of metal is more evident in the album’s title than in its sound, I would categorize both the music and the artwork as “uber cool.” And as we all know, Power Pop is the coolest.
You can find ‘Away From The City’ 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?
Musically, I’ve spent a lot of the past years playing in a 10-piece soul band on the weekends and the rest of the time writing gooey stuff to shop to TV and films. Both of those things bring me joy and satisfaction, but when the songs for this album started to come into my head, I knew I had to write them the way I was hearing them, which was two ripping guitars played spontaneously with some intersecting melody. The songs came out quickly and were recorded over two weekends. I ended up getting sick for a week after that, which allowed me some time to work on my lyrics, sequence the album, and play some solos. I purchased a 1994 green Flying V, which did most of the heavy lifting on this album. My experience playing with the big band, my love of soft rock and heavy metal, and my sense of the place I grew up in totally informed what came out on Metal Detector.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
Sometimes while writing, I’ll hit on songs, or pieces of songs, that just urge me to write them, without judgment, without worrying about what others might think later. A lot of this record was like that. It felt like there was a theme coming through. It was an easy route to vent some long-kept frustrations through music. And it was incredibly fun, easy, and liquid. It just rolled out.
The decision to seek opinions on your new songs is intriguing. When did you realize that external perspectives could contribute to your creative process?
It’s easy to live in a bubble if you don’t solicit feedback. One of my most reliable muses has been toiling away in obscurity far away from any epicenter of cool music or culture. There really is no one here to judge you, and if they do, you don’t care because their opinions don’t matter. I don’t know if I’ve ever relied on outside perspectives to guide what I do, as I don’t expect others to like it the way I do. But to not share it seems counterintuitive to creating it. Even though I made it for me, I still have hope that it resonates in some way with a listener. I used to go to breakfast with my friend J and talk about making art for art’s sake, but then why put it out at all?
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
My expectations with public response are pretty low, actually. As much as I believe that the spirits will allow me to make more music, I equally believe that I can’t predict that my music will find “success” in any conventional way. Mainly, the success I find is a clear head to write again. Songs seem to torment me until I give them a life. Then they leave me alone and I hardly think of them again. It’s weird.
As an artist, the act of baring your emotions to the world is profound. Does this vulnerability come naturally to you, or is it a constant journey of finding comfort?
It’s totally uncomfortable. I want to be that person who really loves their work so much and goes around reciting their own poetry to anyone that will listen. I definitely know those people. I’m not one. I do find that playing guitar is something I can comfortably share with others in a live setting. I feel very at ease with that. With lyrics, I know the higher concept that I want to convey but get easily muddled by an unquiet mind. I write more music than I have words for, and so many of the same themes recur. And it’s not always from the heart. Sometimes it’s just an act. As life can be.
Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?
I’m an incompletist. There are two parts of a song consistently orbiting around my brain. And I’m guilty of calling it done when I should probably just be patient. Songs are journeys, and they end where they end. Some are short trips, some are fart rips. And sometimes they turn into better songs down the line. I love to record and we usually set it up and track stuff, listen back, and grow it from there.
Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?
I wrote a power ballad on this album that I thought would have been a hit in 1987. That felt great because I love the sound of 1987. Turns out it doesn’t totally translate in 2024, but when I was recording it, I could feel that it captured a higher concept than just the basic rock song that it was. It’s basic and simple, so it spoke right to me. I write and record a lot of different sounding songs, and they end up in one bucket or another. A good song can have more than one life, for sure.
With the resurgence of cassettes, imagine curating your inaugural mixtape. Which five songs would be must-adds and why?
If you condensed the current record into a ripping mixtape, you could do worse than this here.
Luxury Mane put out a cassette called Isn’t This Great, and I did a solo album on cassette called This Is Number One or something like that. I LOVE cassettes and miss my car with the cassette player so much. I’m into the idea if anyone out there wants to take this further. Here’s my pick for a ripper EP:
Decap
Lens Makes Ruin
Drifted
Sure Enough
Away from the City
Performing music before an audience holds a unique allure. What aspects of this experience contribute to the excitement and enjoyment for you?
When there are people who can share the energy with you, it’s just different. It’s spontaneous and interactive, and the excitement comes from living in the moment, and the enjoyment is all about sharing that moment with a bunch of people.
While you can’t dictate how people interpret your music, are there specific elements you wish to highlight that set your songs apart?
It’s the sounds I heard growing up in Florida. It’s heavy metal and soft rock influenced. I listen to a lot of ambient and synth music, but I play a lot of soul and older RnB with a band I’ve been in for a million years. I get a lot of ideas while I’m playing with them. The band has 10 players, so there’s a lot to listen to besides myself. I love the Budos Band and the Menahan Street Band. I don’t really write that way, so I’m not sure where I’m going with all that. But I wish I wrote like Phil Lynott, Elvis Costello, and Eddie Van Halen. I just write and write. Melodies will just invade my space. I’m not sure if because they invaded my headspace that they come out different than someone else’s. But maybe.
In a hypothetical scenario where you could tour with two other bands, who would be your ideal companions and what synergies do you envision?
White Reaper because they have the most ripping dual guitars, and Mötley Crüe because we each want our own bus.
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?
Definitely. This group of songs sits pretty far away from my previous work with Luxury Mane and even my solo stuff. Kyle, the drummer, and I had a band called The Semis some years ago that was similar to this. It almost feels like a continuation of that thread. And the song Decap off this album was a rework of a Semis song of the same name. I’ve always been a fan of harmony guitar solos, but this new record really brings that sound to the forefront without being hokey or ironic. Playing it live with Matt has been insanely rewarding. That guy is a monster on the guitar and just the coolest person, and he makes for a good sparring partner.
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 started doing digital collage a couple of years ago and had every intention of making record covers out of those. But we have a friend, Mikey Thompson, who approached us about taking some shots for the band. They turned out really great in that they capture four poseurs in a muscle car that looks like they love rock ‘n’ roll, which is really what this album sounds like. He is a wizard with the camera, and he got some really nice shots using the natural light of evening in the warehouse district of St. Pete. It’s a vibe, so we ended up using that as the album cover.
The Hollywood Stars are no longer just a legendary name from the past. After many years of silence, they released “Starstruck” last month, which was promptly voted the best Power Pop album of 2024 so far by Shindig. This accolade is well-deserved, as the eleven new songs are vibrant and high-quality, reflecting the class of a distinguished band.
George Keller, who joined as the lead guitarist in the spring of 2023, shared with the Sweet Sweet Music blog how “Starstruck” came to be.
You can find ‘Can’t Do It Right’ 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?
It involved a bit of magic and a lot of hard work. I joined the band in early 2023, and at that point, about half of the material for our new ‘Starstruck’ album was in place. Everybody in the band gets a songwriting credit on ‘Starstruck.’ I worked on a track called “Walking With an Angel.” We recorded the album in two marathon sessions, the first in March 2023 and the second in November. We recorded at Kitten Robot Studios in Los Angeles, and the album was produced by the band, our manager Loren Molinare, and longtime L.A. producer/musician Paul Roessler. We’re all very pleased with how it turned out and the reception from press and radio has been great.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
Yes, during the recording of “Shortage of Love.” The track was recorded live and we didn’t have an ending. We played what we thought might be the ending, and then Loren, who also played some guitar on the album, kept playing and we all followed his lead. The song ended up becoming this anthem-like extravaganza that none of us had envisioned.
The decision to seek opinions on your new songs is intriguing. When did you realize that external perspectives could contribute to your creative process?
It’s always good to check the outside “temperature.” 🙂
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 goal is to get as many features and reviews, and on as many radio playlists, as possible. So far, we’re accomplishing that goal. Of course, we would also like to play more shows.
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?
Every new endeavor has its highs, and my song “Walking With an Angel” comes as close to perfection as possible, with a great vocal by Scott Phares and wonderful interplay between the drums and guitar as the song fades.
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?
Naturally, and as a lead guitarist, I can be a bit of a showoff.
Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds an indelible place in your memory and why does it stand out?
It’s in the thousands and spans many years. In June, we played an album release party at The Viper Room in Hollywood. The place was packed and there were many folks that we have known for decades in the audience. That show was very special and stands out to me right now.
Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?
You have to stop before the energy dissipates. Three takes should be the maximum in my opinion. If you can’t get it in three takes, then it’s time to move on.
Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?
There is a formula but you have to be careful and not become cliched. It’s difficult to define so you have to “trust your feelings.”
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
This question makes me think of our track “Shortage of Love,” which is both a title and a message to listeners.
Performing music before an audience holds a unique allure. What aspects of this experience contribute to the excitement and enjoyment for you?
Seeing the smiles on the audience’s faces and their bodies moving. It’s an immediate sign that the band is doing something right.
Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?
Yes, a very well-known poet friend of mine said my performance was so captivating, he forgot he knew me.
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 ‘Starstruck,’ it was playing the lead guitar break to “Revenge” through a Marshall stack that was turned all the way up to the proverbial 11!
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
The Hollywood Stars create energetic, melodic, and memorable tracks. The band name has been around since the early 1970s so a lot of people have fond memories of this group’s music over the years. In the band’s early days, they were hit by a succession of tough breaks that derailed their career momentum. At this point, decades later, I think that the attention, and having the chance to still be making great rock ‘n’ roll is a wonderful tonic for all of us, but most especially our three members from the 1970s: vocalist Scott Phares, drummer Terry Rae, and bassist Michael Rummans.
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 cover photo was a happy accident and with a band called “The Hollywood Stars,” the name is synonymous with the film industry. Everything fits together nicely.
Rolling Stone once described the music of New York-based singer/songwriter Mark Bacino as “steeped in the sparkly, head-bobbing melodicism of classic mid-’60s pop.” He stays true to this style on ‘Top of the World,’ offering ten excellent songs that occasionally evoke a pleasant melancholy. Much has changed since the release of ‘Pop Job…the Long Player!,’ the Marc Bacino album I play most often. It’s time to catch up.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
The journey of bringing “Top of the World” to life was a long one. As with all my records before, a process filled with a combination of joy, hard work and heartache. Although this one took an especially long time to make and was crafted in fits and starts. Family and work responsibilities played a part in slowing the process, as did, of course, the Covid crisis. I’m always a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to making these things as well, so that never helps move things along. Also, the nature of how the album was recorded probably added to the lengthiness of the process. This go-around I worked with two different co-producers (Ron Zabrocki & Jay Sherman-Godfrey) in their studios as well as my own. We also did a lot of remote collaborations with many talented musicians, far and wide, via a lot of files floating around the interwebs. It all added up to being a bit of a complex production process, but in the end we got it done and ultimately all that stuff melts away when the record makes its way into the world, takes on its own life and folks begin to enjoy it. And really that’s the way it should be.
Within this collection, do you feel that the best song you’ve ever written finds its home? If not, what distinguishes this record’s essence from your prior work?
I always like to think the latest tunes I’ve written are my best but it’s really impossible for me to judge. And, ultimately, I’m not sure it’s my place to do so anyway. It’s always been kind of the same with every album I’ve made; you craft a record, a collection of songs, release it and those songs are really no longer yours, they belong to everyone that listens. Each person will have their own personal favorites and not-so favorites and each song will mean something slightly different to every listener. Some folks have kindly said that “Top of the World” holds my best songwriting to date. I’m flattered, but again, there’s really no way for me to judge, I’m too close to it all. I suppose if I had to choose one song that I’m most proud of from this new collection, I’d probably pick the tune “Shaky Hand.” Weird title and probably a weird little song, but I feel like I struck a good balance, lyrically speaking, on that one between the hyper-personal and the universal.
Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?
Truth be told, I’m probably not a very laid back person, but in terms of songwriting I would describe myself as such. I really don’t sweat or force the process. I try to let the songs form as naturally as possible and come when they want to come. That may mean that a song idea might sit around, geminating, for years or it may mean that a tune may materialize in half an hour. It’s hard to say exactly when a composition is complete but somehow I just know and I tend to trust that feeling. A combination of experience and instinct, I guess.
Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?
I can’t say I’ve ever really worried too much about striking that balance – probably much to my financial detriment – but I’ve always been a big music fan first and foremost, so as such, when creating music I’ve always operated from the position that if I like the music I’m making, someone out there will probably enjoy it as well. My musical tastes are not that odd or left-of-center. I also think that chasing the commercial dragon is a slippery slope. As a songwriter, at the end of the day, you can only really be you and it’s best to remain as such. It’s ultimately what makes your work unique and special anyway. You can try and shoehorn your creations into some sort of “commercial” box but I think that end-result just always comes across as forced or inauthentic. In my opinion, Taylor Swift writes commercially successful songs not because she’s trying to, but because her personal brand of songwriting just happens to currently align with the zeitgeist.
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
I think when I was a younger artist around the time of my first commercial release (“Pop Job,” 1998) I was most definitely looking to swing for the fences in terms of success and my definition of that word at the time. The world and the music business was very different then. The goals for me and many of my contemporaries in that moment were to get a indie label record deal and a manager, which, in turn, would lead to a major label deal which was supposed to lead to fame, fortune and a life of musical happiness. I was lucky enough to achieve some of the aforementioned, but I still felt like “success,” as I defined it at the time, eluded me. A few years beyond that, I think my idea of success morphed into the thought that if I could just do nothing but make music, not necessarily my own, and pay the bills, that would be my new definition of success. After launching a freelance music production business that basically allowed me to make music for a living, I soon realized that the grass is not always greener. Everything comes with a price. These days, with some age and some experience under the belt, I realize success is – and it might sound corny – really about being happy and healthy and having people around you that you love. I very much enjoy having the opportunity and privilege to make my art and offer it to folks out in the world to enjoy, that’s a real gift, and of course I’d like the music to reach as many people as possible, but that’s kind of secondary in terms of my definition of “success” these days.
Jacob Godbey contacted me, saying, “My name is Jacob, and I’m in a power pop band called Lo Fi Ho Hum.” This succinct introduction mirrors the compactness of their debut album, aptly titled ‘Garage Pop.’ The album features just 7 songs and lasts only 19 minutes. It’s not just short—it’s concise, direct, and wonderfully good.
You can find ‘Never Been In Love’ 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?
Garage Pop came to life under some very negative circumstances, which is unfortunate because I’m constantly trying to buck the “artists have to be tortured to make good songs” trend. Despite my best efforts, these songs wrote themselves through the isolation of living alone and working from home during a pandemic. I also went through a plethora of relationships, some good and some bad. Many of these are chronicled on the lead single, “Never Been In Love,” as well as the final track, “Maybe.”
Basically, I moved across the U.S. to begin a relationship but chose not to stay there and ended up living at my parents’ house. As luck would have it, my father was just putting the finishing touches on a new garage, so I got to record an album in it before it got filled with vehicles.
Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?
A bandmate from a prior project expressed how much he loved some of these songs in their demo form, so when I found myself essentially at “rock bottom” and living in my childhood hometown, I knew pretty quickly what needed to be done for my mental health. My grandpa kicked in some recording equipment, one of my father’s friends let me borrow a guitar amp, and the rest was recorded through pure gumption.
Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?
My definition of success has definitely morphed over my life. I used to perform sketch and improv comedy and had my sights set on SNL or movies someday. I also grew up fantasizing about becoming as omnipresent as bands like Good Charlotte and Blink-182. Success to me now is creating sustainability. I’d love to foster a community of creatives who push each other to greatness and can pay their mortgage with those results, if not their car payment as well.
Failing financial success, it would really mean a lot to me to look out into a crowd and see people singing my words back to me. I’ve never had that yet, and I just know I’m going to cry if it ever happens!
Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?
In the song “Boundaries,” there’s a line at the end that reads:
Now when I see a friend crumbling/ I scream, “You deserve better than that!”
That’s an important one to me because that song is about being emotionally abused in a relationship. I had SO many friends warn me while I was in it, but I really didn’t listen to any of them. So it’s a shout-out to them but also to everyone. Grab your friends by the shoulders and scream “You deserve better than that!”
If there’s a passage I could choose that encapsulates the album’s entire vibe, it would be the following from “Never Been In Love:”
There was one/ wanted me to tie her to my bed/ but I’m such a pacifist/ that I’ve never been in love
Yes, it’s a true story, yes, it is intended to be funny, and yes, it is tongue-in-cheek. If you can’t relate to that, then Lo Fi Ho Hum might not be for you!
While you can’t dictate how people interpret your music, are there specific elements you wish to highlight that set your songs apart?
If I could befriend every single one of our fans, I would. This music is a call to end loneliness and I think it works best if you know something about me, the person writing the songs and singing. That’s what sets our songs apart. They are entirely honest lyrically and musically. I love pop music, but I also love punk and new wave, and I think that shines through.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
I wouldn’t say I’ve ever participated in the music industry, but I hope this release changes that. I’ve always been a consumer, but these songs are already gaining me some entirely unexpected recognition amongst peers, so I’d like to continue that!
I really am obsessed with the creative process and I’d love to help other musicians and creatives find their best work. I’ve been lucky to have friends pull greatness out of me, and I’d love to pay it forward!
With this fresh collection of songs, how do you envision connecting with both your existing fanbase and new listeners? Are there specific emotions or messages you hope they’ll resonate with?
I really hope anyone who listens resonates with the themes of reluctant adulthood, male loneliness, but also not settling. In a world where we have so little control over the situations around us, it is important to take care of yourself and those you care for. Hopefully, that is communicated in the lyrics here! And if you come to a Lo Fi Ho Hum show, you will be taken care of. All are welcome and we like to foster a sense of safety not just for the fans, but also for ourselves.
Recognizing quality can be straightforward, and Dan Miraldi’s new release, ‘Ulysses‘, is a perfect example. You’ll quickly notice its excellence. With ten tracks that leave you wanting more after just half an hour, it’s a compelling listen. Fortunately, ‘Ulysses’ is the second installment in a garage rock power-pop trilogy that Miraldi is crafting, or so it seems. He delves into this project with Sweet Sweet Music blog, explaining how it all comes together.
You can find ‘Almost Sounds Sincere’ showcased on the Best Power Pop of 2024 Spotify Playlist.
Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?
I spent most of 2022 focusing on the release of my seventh album, Radio Friendly Darling, so recording for Ulysses did not really commence until January of 2023. A few months prior, I had moved to a new apartment and finally had my home recording setup in place. I had four songs fully written as my starting point. I knew that the title track was supposed to open the record. I also had two song fragments that I managed to complete once production began. Then, as often happens when I am recording, new ones start to come to me and I wrote four additional songs that ended up on the album. I wrote a good number of other songs that will likely be saved for an album next year as well, but I thought these ten songs for Ulysses made for a satisfying listening experience.
Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?
I recognize that I am a niche artist. I think my music is accessible and likable, but I have no commercial expectations. The music industry is an abyss. There is no meritocracy. I love rock and roll. I make the records I want to make. My first album came out fifteen years ago. I feel like I have been very consistent at releasing quality music. I have toured and gotten to play shows with some of the big kids, but my greatest musical blessings have been the support of some independent DJs in the Cleveland area as well as SiriusXM. I can get really existential, but for the sake of this interview, I will focus on the positive. I am proud of the records I have made and grateful to anyone who finds their way to my music.
How would you describe the evolution of your sound in this new album compared to your previous works? Were there intentional shifts in style or themes?
This will be a long answer unfortunately. I feel like my career and sound can be broken down into three phases with transitional records in between. My first three albums and four EPs are phase one. I was developing my sound trying to pull my retro rock and roll influences with garage rock revival and elements of punk. I was on the road, traveling in a van with my band, really trying to make things happen. Eventually, it was not turning out commercially the way I was hoping and I had to rethink my career and business model. My third album, Chaos Destruction & Dancing, is a transitional record. It was made when I knew I was moving from my hometown of Cleveland to try new things in NYC. It did not come out until a year after I moved to New York.
In phase two, you get to New York-era records – Love Under Fire and then the big one for me Alphabet City 2 AM. I had a period of creative doubt when I first moved here. I wondered if I had already written my best songs, but then I found my voice and confidence. The new city and the friends I was making inspired me. I wrote so many songs, that it provided material that has found its way on to multiple albums. In this second phase, I also made the acoustic Mood Music records and the proto-punk 15 Minutes of Fury which were important, because I was getting comfortable recording myself at home just as the pandemic hit and throughout it.
Coming out of the pandemic, I feel like this is phase three. I did not plan it this way, but I think I am making a garage rock power-pop trilogy. Radio Friendly Darling was part one. I was trying to make something upbeat and comforting as we all had been through a lot during covid. Now with Ulysses, I feel like it rocks a little harder, but it is still fun. Songs I did not get to during Radio Friendly Darling, provided the starting points for Ulysses. While making Ulysses, I wrote a bunch of new songs. I could have technically made a double album, but did not want to go that route. It is tough to get people’s attention long enough to listen to one new song, let alone a whole record. So I set those other songs aside and hope to finish another collection for next year. I am excited to share Ulysses and excited to know that I have another potential album up my sleeve. I am not delusional. I recognize that I have limitations in reaching an audience in these days of algorithms and the oversaturation of tens of thousands of songs being released daily to streaming services. Most people will never hear about it, but that is not what drives me. If I may be so bold, if people like garage rock and power-pop, I am making something special for them. I am going to throw down the gauntlet with this next record. It’s written and probably 75% recorded.
With the resurgence of cassettes, imagine curating your inaugural mixtape. Which five songs would be must-adds and why?
I am all about the deep cuts.
The Records “I Don’t Remember Your Name.” If you find a copy of the album Crashes by the Records, buy it. It is not available on CD or streaming, but it is great power-pop from the late 70s early 80s. “I Don’t Remember Your Name” has a great Revolver-esque guitar riff, but it has great lyrics about being at a party wanting to go home and not remembering the names of the guests you’ve been introduced to throughout the evening. I identify with it.
Kurt Baker “Anchors Up.” Kurt is a cool guy and I am only beginning to dig into his rich discography. I really enjoyed 2023’s Rock N Roll Club and “Anchors Up” is a highlight. I saw him play it live and it was killer.
Nathan Hedges “Times Are Changing.” Nathan played guitar on two of the Ulysses tracks and is one of my best buds. However, I am including him because he is talented and underrated. He put out his own EP last year in the Americana-rock genre. It’s excellent and “Times Are Changing” is a rockin’ highlight.
The Knack “Can I Borrow A Kiss.” The Knack’s “My Sharona” has my favorite guitar solo in all of rock and roll, but like I said, I like the deep cuts, so I am instead adding “Can I Borrow A Kiss” to the mixtape with the hope that you listen to Knack records beyond their debut. “Can I Borrow a Kiss” is perfect power pop. The song is thoughtfully romantic, but still an infectious listening experience.
Stephen Stills “Singin’ Call.” Stills is my favorite guitarist. I also love his voice. It’s a vulnerable song to be listened to late at night. Kids these days don’t know enough about Stephen Stills. Between 1967 to about 1975, he was on fire as a writer, producer, arrangement and instrumentalist. There are many songs I could point you to, but this has been my go-to over the last couple of years.
Envision recruiting three singers to provide harmony vocals on your next record. Who would you invite, and what qualities do they possess that resonate with you?
I listen to a lot of older rock music, but my favorite singer under the age of 70 is Grace Potter. She is one of the best rock and roll singers out there. I once played a festival she headlined and we shared a golf cart ride together, but I did not have the nerve to ask her to sing harmony.
Graham Nash is one of the greatest harmony singers ever. In his eighties, he is still great. Songs for Beginners is one of the most underrated albums of the 1970s. To sing with Graham would be monumental. I met him when I was 16 and he was very gracious. A few years ago, I reached out to his manager to see if Graham wanted to do a writing session together. The manager politely responded that Graham very solidly booked for the foreseeable future. Maybe I should follow up?
Paul McCartney, because the Beatles are the best and Paul’s work ethic has always inspired me. Assuming I could manage to talk in his presence, singing with him would be an honor. I do not have a Paul story, but I once opened for his son James. It was cool.
Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?
I celebrated the album’s release by performing at the International Pop Overthrow festival in Copenhagen a few weeks ago. I plan on doing more shows likely in the New York City area this summer and fall, both solo acoustic and full band. I will also be returning to my hometown of Cleveland for a reunion show of Dan Miraldi & the Albino Winos, my old touring outfit in September. We have not performed together in five years, but that will be fun.
I will also be continuing to record. I have that power-pop record I mentioned earlier as well as a folky collection that I am still developing into a potential EP.
In the digital age, visual elements are intertwined with music. How did you approach the album’s visual aesthetics, such as album art and accompanying visuals? How do they complement the sonic experience you’ve crafted?
The album art was one of the last things that came into place. I record at home and like to make the lighting vibey when recording. I lower the lights and have this “nebula projector” that puts celestial patterns on the ceiling. I was messing around with the projector. I pointed it at myself and then took a selfie. I thought it looked cool and used it for the cover. It was spontaneous, but once it happened, I knew it was right.
The other visuals are coming in the form of videos. My wife, Meaghan, works in film and directed a music video for “Unfollow Me” while we were honeymooning in Barcelona. She is in the process of editing the footage. It is looking cool. The music video is very tongue-in-cheek with the visuals matching the lyrical commentary on social media and how people present themselves. We hope to have it out in the coming weeks.
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