Photos and a PodQast

The past two weeks I have been working on a special set of photos. I set up my "studio" (I kicked the cars out of the garage) and my portable, loveable background, and invited some friends over. They primped (not so much) and posed (a whole lot) and generally either sweated or froze, but we all enjoyed the fun. And some really great photos came out of the experience. Red Monroe has already used theirs for a Quick PodQast, on which you can *cringe* hear me gushing and trying to act like I'm not just sitting in the British Rose chatting up my friends. Cindy Chaffin got me out of the woodwork to do this interview with her. We've only been planning it for a year. I'm glad that RM's nomination for a Grammy nomination finally got us in front of a mic.

Interview with Midlake

Midlake is experiencing enviable success. Tagged to play Coachella in 2005, chosen by actor Jason Lee for an appearance on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, and ferried along for European tours by the Bella Union label of former Cocteau Twin Simon Raymonde and for American shows by Rilo Kiley, the Denton experimental rock band is fast becoming a media darling. Five indie guys with a bunch of artsy videos, Midlake spins spacey melodies that flow with grace and ease. Discussing the recording of their eagerly awaited third album, Midlake outlines a departure from the lo-fi, '60s inspired pop of Bamnan and Slivercork. Moving into the next decade of musical influences, The Trials of Van Occupanther draws from '70s folk rock and is a new direction for the ethereal group.

Eric Nichelson, Eric Pulido, and McKenzie Smith sat down with me for a lengthy interview this past June. As we munched tacos at Pepe's & Mito's on Dallas' Elm Street, we talked about how they've gotten better at recording and just how much I didn't really appreciate Bamnan and Slivercork.

Kate Mackley: Ok, first of all, tell me about Van Occupanther, how that’s going.

Eric Nicholson: It’s been a relatively long process again. We started in early November had an original plan of May to be done, and we got around earlier this year where we were doing pretty well, you know but this was going to take a little bit more time to complete. And so now we’ve given ourselves until November…

Eric Pulido: November of 2005.

EN: …to finish it up, and it’s going well. We’ve recorded six songs that are in, we're over 50% on two more; we’ll have to go back and add some things here and there in mix and stuff. It’ll probably be a ten or eleven song album so we’re probably 60-70% depending on how you look at it, so it’s getting there. And we’re looking at probably an early 2006 release, so it’s going well. We’ve been learning a lot as we record more, we record in our home and get new equipment and learn how or find out new things and so it’s been a good learning process. Frustrating, but good.

KM: Why frustrating?

EP: Learning how to record. We know how to record, but then we don’t know how to record… it’s probably a lot of the charm of our recording on our last album is that we really don’t know what we’re doing. So we just make it sound as best we can, and same thing with this album. We have a bunch of new gear and we’re having to learn how to use that gear, never having worked like this before. Just the learning curve, getting through that, and making it sound the best we can. We know what we like and we know what we like to hear, and getting it to actually happen is the difficult part, the frustrating part. That’s where the frustration is coming in but it’s nothing abnormal.

EP: Well, that’s why there are studios and producers and engineers. We always talk about “Man, it’d be great to just push a button and this guy would appear or this robot would come to life that’s like, "Yeah, you record that and make it sound like you know, Beatle’s “White Album” on this track and that’s what I want the guitar to sound like.” But it doesn’t happen, so we’re spending 75% of the time trying to get that sound. Playing the part wasn’t the hard thing; it was getting the sounds to sound right, so we keep getting these new toys and stuff to figure out. There’s a learning curve to employ those into the recording process. We don’t take a long time just because we’re trying to make people wait or we’re lazy or anything like that. I mean, we literally work 40 hour weeks [recording] on top of the 40 hours weeks we work at our jobs. It’s quite a process to get there, you know. It’s frustrating but fun.

KM: And why aren’t you guys using a studio or producer?

EN: Costs too much money. We buy the gear, pay the same amount of money to buy your own gear and learn how to use it. It’s a wiser investment. Cause you’re going to spend the exact same amount, if not more, on studio time. That’s all it is.

EP: And also, you can just go record whenever you want. Your studio’s right down the hall, you can go to your room, go take a nap, you can use your bathroom, you can go make coffee in your coffeemaker, you can go get a beer out of your refrigerator. You know, we’ve gotten so used to it now, it’s just comfortable. The only deterrent that was ever there was can we get the same quality that we would get? And we found that in a lot of ways it’s just as good or better because of the time. If there was an engineer behind it you’re going to get his input as well and you just kind of like lean on him and be like “OK, I trust that that’s good, right?” and you know, that’s cool, we got to move on now ‘cause time’s a wasting. But now it’s five of us in there and it’s like, “Is that good? Is that good? Is that good? I don’t know, let’s see.” It’s meticulous, and hopefully in all things we get to a point where the most important thing is this part of this sound. Sonically, does this song evoke, is there something emotional there that you can’t really put your finger on? So that’s the goal. Hopefully we’ll get that. We’ll let you know if we got that. Or you’ll let us know.

KM: The last album was a concept album, almost like a film, but audio. Is the next album going to be like that as well?

EN: Not as much.

EP: We’ll still have videos with the songs live. It won’t be as united as the last one of this land and balloons. There definitely was a conceptual idea behind the songs and they were tied together, whereas there are stories and such in the new songs, it’s just not as interconnected.

EN: These songs are definitely in the same world, the same vibe, as far as the sound of the songs. It’s definitely moved on to something different from our last album, but it still has a cohesiveness to it, but as far as the style of recording, it’s a little bit different. Though the style of songwriting, the vibe, is still there.

KM: Many bands, on their sophomore album, say, “We’re on a label, we’ll let them pick up the costs for us.” You guys aren’t doing that are you?

EN: No… (laughs)

EP: I mean, we’d like to, but there’s a lot that comes with that, you know. When the label gives you money, they also want to own it, they want to own everything, and a lot of what we’ve done has been our own way. Financially, funding things, it’s been difficult, but it’s kept things central, and we don’t have too many…

EN: ...outside influences.

EP: We made our album, we funded our album, and we own it. Bella Union licensed it from us and they do a 50/50 split with us on sales. If a big label over here wanted to give you a bunch of money, they’d say, “Well, I own the album now and you’re going to get 14% of the money that’s made on it, and anything else you put your name on I’m going to own too.” We don’t want to be big that bad, and there are no guarantees. Why can’t we continue doing things the way we are, where we’ve already recorded most of the album on our own dime, why don’t we keep finishing it out, and own it? There will be a label that’s willing to license it and let us still own our music and still get the music out there and get reviews and get features and get good shows. Slowly but surely we’re finding people that don’t make you give them your first born.

KM: Do you find that the music world is changing, because of the ability of the bands to do their own recordings?

EP: Oh, yeah.

EN: Yeah, it’s very viable nowadays. You can argue it’s going to take forever, but you can make a living, or potentially make money recording and making music.

EP: It's not like we just wrote a song, thought "it's great," and then recorded it. That’s not what happens.

EN: Not Midlake…

McKenzie Smith joins us.

McKenzie Smith: The filter which it passes through now is just that much greater. I mean we literally compare everything we do to something that’s been done, that’s been great before. You have the task of finding something that doesn’t sound exactly like somebody else. If it does sound exactly like somebody else, then you hope that it’s something that nobody really listens to anymore or cares about, (laughs) but it’s almost impossible to find something entirely new. The other thing is, you don’t want to find anything that’s too creative and too bizarre that doesn’t connect with people. The filter is just getting smaller and smaller; that chance of going in there and sticking to what you actually want to do. Several years ago, before we ever even recorded our first EP, we’d been a rock band recording, rehearsing and practicing every night, five hours a night, playing the songs. But that’s never really like recording; looking back and asking that is the best it can possibly be? Figuring out every creative aspect. We did that for a year and a half before we played our first show. [When we went] into a rented studio we knocked out 13 songs in the three hour block and did vocal overdub. We did all the songs in two and a half hours, and Tim was expected to run through all 13 songs and hopefully get a vocal down in one or two takes, maybe, and we ended up rushing. It was very thrown together. It’s possible; you can make a record that way. If we had another couple of days to really work on it and finish it, that could have very well been an album that was released. But then again, it probably wouldn’t have been the greatest work we ever could have done. Now we have the opportunity to spend every night doing it, going, "Is this really the best it could be?" It does take a very long time. There are still things that take longer than you expect and what if it doesn’t sound good when you’re recording it? The mike’s not in the right place, the EQ’s not right, and then an hour and a half later, you finally solve the problem. And then you come back to it and you’re like, it's not right. (shaking his head, laughing)

EP: We’ve done that with whole songs….

MS: When we first started recording back in late November [2004], we spent an entire month recording a song, the first song we were working on… We chunked everything; a whole month’s worth and started over. So…

EP: … that’s why it takes us so long to finish an album.

MS: But when we talk about it, we struggle with it as well, because you know, we want to get it done, too. We want to be done. We want to get on with starting to develop the videos more and play live and put an album out. Even though we’re just this little indie band from Denton, we want to treat it like this is precious. You put out an album, you make it once, and it’s your baby. It’s a product of all your minds and your talents and your passions. Why would you want to put out shit? You want to put out something great and something you feel proud of and part of, so we keep reminding ourselves that…what’s a year, you know?

EN: A long time…

MS: (laughs) It is a long time, but I mean it’s worth it.

EN: You always got to keep that long-term perspective. That’s the only reason we’re still doing it, that’s the only way we’ve got through. We have to be thinking five years, ten years, fifteen years down the road. That you’re going to do this with your life; this is what you do. Luckily, we’re all able to come to terms with that. We talk to people and they’re like how do you get everybody on the same page?

EP: It’s a miracle how we got together…

EN: Yeah, you don’t get everybody on the same page… it just has to happen.

KM: Things are really starting to come together for you guys.

EN: It’s all about perception. I mean can we really be honest here?

EP: You’re always wanting more. I remember when playing a show was the goal. Then traveling somewhere to play a show, then making a CD, and then it’s people buying our CD and then it’s a label? I remember when Lift to Experience was on Bella Union and we had talked to them like “It’d be awesome to be on Bella Union and be like on a real label and tour Europe” and we talked to them, and it was just cool. It was the epitome of coolness for a band to have someone working with you, funding things, and getting you out there. Then we got on Bella Union, and all of a sudden we had a label and then a booking agent, and then it’s a festival, what would that be like? And then each thing comes and you want to keep pushing it.

MS: And the next thing is like, oh, man, a paycheck (laughs).

EN: Yeah, we don’t make any money. What it looks like on the outside, is not really what you would think it would be, and for us it’s not even… no way.

MS: And before we sound like arrogant jerks, these things are awesome, these things we’ve had happen are really cool. We’re not going to pretend they’re not cool. We have really cool people that like our band, or we can play some really cool stuff, and we can do some really great things…

EP: I didn’t come off like that, did I?

MS: No, I’m just saying that it could be taken the wrong way; if you print right there that oh it’s all perception, then there’s a million bands out there going “Those jerks. We wish we could have a record label, we wish we could do that” and it’s great, we’re very grateful we have these things. But at the same time, it’s always…we continue to work hard, to the next level and we just…we’re trying to make a career, we haven’t just arrived. Just because we have these things in place we finally feel like we’re actually sort of at the beginning now, OK, now we’ve got everything together let’s go do it, you know, let’s go. If we can turn on a thousand, OK, a lot more than that…a hundred thousand people in the world to our music, that’s kind of the goal.

EP: If a hundred people here in Dallas like our music…

EN: Getting a record deal, that’s not even the beginning, really. That’s part of it. It’s so hard just to do that, and then when you get that, then you have to make that work and that’s even harder.

EP: I don’t know…it’s a different equation for different bands, but I think the biggest thing that we’ve done, or the two biggest things—I guess they work hand in hand—but we’ve gotten, we’ve built everything in a very meticulous, patient way of getting people involved and getting entities or whatever. You get a label, you get a booking agent, you get friends, people in the media, you know a part of it. If you’re all the while working on your music and trying to create beautiful music and people connect to that, then ultimately they’re going to help move things along as well. It’s very easy to just crap out something and then be like, OK, now we’ll make it big. You kind of get ahead of yourself and it doesn’t really go anywhere. You wonder where you went wrong.

KM: Let me ask you about this, because I don’t get Bamnan and Slivercork. But, clearly, I’m missing something. A lot of people really love that album. Let’s put it this way, I tried so hard to listen to it and I make it through about 30 seconds of each song, and I’m like OK, next. Tell me what it is that I’m not getting?

EP: That’s a hard one. You have to go back to when you were growing up, what kind of music you listened to. Maybe pop music wasn’t to your liking.

MS: It’s difficult because it’s a subjective thing with music. I mean, if I looked at all the music I liked, there’s not necessarily this correlation where “Oh, that’s why I like Neil Young, and that mixes with this band.” There’s no doubt that there is in our music, particularly Bamnan and Slivercork, a quality to it that’s a little left of center.

EP: There’s a good chunk of people in the world that can get that album and it connects and says something to them. The lyrics aren't “Oooo baby, I’m so sorry I left you, I need you in my life right now” which obviously connects with a lot of people. The majority of the world buys that kind of record because that’s what they want to hear. People that don’t listen to that stuff, who are a little more off-the-cuff or whatever, they still haven’t quite gone into the world that our singer, Tim Smith, stepped into. [Bamnan and Slivercork] will never reach as many people as we would have hoped or liked to impact. I think it could reach a lot more than it did, but I still think it would take probably a certain kind of person that would enjoy that, and it is weird. But it’s not any weirder to me than a Beatles album that came out when they had a different lyric tone. They became weird but what they wrote about and how they wrote about it was still able to connect with a large group of people, obviously, but they already had set up a massive fan base anyway, so people were willing to listen to it. If the “White Album” had been their first record, they might not have had the success that they did. A band who has gone down a strange path like that, at some point early on in their career they’ve had more of a commercial success…

KM: Yeah. Because The Beatles' initial albums really were a commercial success.

EP: Yeah, so because of that, it kind of let them do [the later albums]. On our album, there’s a lot of imagery, some of it is kind of childlike.

MS: Some people come home, from the office—they’ve had a hard day, some people actually like that they can put on something that can take them to a completely different place like that. Some people say, no I want something I can relate to right away that’s going to help me get through my day in a different kind of way. Some people don’t even listen to lyrics and all they care about is this kind of weird band I like with these catchy melodies, whatever. People like music for all reasons. But I think honestly that a problem we had on our first album was that it might feel disconnected to certain people. I feel like the last album has taken great strides in fixing that.

EP: And you will like it…you might not get it, but you will like it.

EN: I think this music is way more mature. I mean, this album is not going to be put on by your average 15-year-old girl that likes New Found Glory or whatever…

KM: Ashlee Simpson…

EN: (laughs) It’s not going to be that kind of album, we’re not that kind of band. This music…I think the next album…I think it’s for adults. I think it’s very mature music.

EP: An older market.

MS: The influence in this album is different than the first one. The first one, we were still heavily into bands like the Flaming Lips or Grandaddy or Mercury Rev where it was a little bit more like ooh, we’re sort of weird, or quirky, and let’s throw some weird sounds in there. This album has nothing to do with that. There’s nothing on this album like that. It’s mostly like: here’s some acoustic guitars, and here’s some pianos and here’s electric guitar. It’s influenced by Joni Mitchell and Neil Young and Tim’s getting way more into '70’s folk. The recording process is different, the sounds are much different, the album sounds a lot different from the first one, just sonically. And then the songs are a lot different from Bamnan and Slivercork. The songs on Van Occupanther will connect with people in a more personal way.

EN: It’s the emotional connection, probably, even for yourself personally. It’s wanting to feel a certain way when you listen to music… you want it, you know. Even for myself, driving a car, sticking in an entire album, it might not grip on me; that’s just not the way I want to feel. It’s different for everybody.

KM: You’re right. It is all a personal, emotional connection.

EP: So hopefully, you’ll connect more with the second one. That way at our next interview you’ll say “I loved it.”

KM: Are you at all worried that you’re going to lose anyone who liked the first album?

EN: Oh, we might.

EP: All twelve of them.

MS: We had conversations about that…talking about the direction.

EN: I think it’ll open us up to many more fans, though.

EP: It’s just difficult because anytime we ever talk about something like that; it’s so hard to be objective about yourselves. When we finished “Roscoe,” we were confident that it was a good song, that it felt good, but what are people going to think about this? How will they think it compares to Bamnan and Slivercork? We let the label hear it, and Jason [Lee] heard it, and they really dug it.

KM: But what if they hadn’t?

EP: It would have been interesting, I mean…

MS: Rerecord! (laughs)

EP: Right. Well, it wouldn’t have been bad. No, because we felt good about it. If we were, if we would have felt bad about it…. Let’s not talk about it. (laughs)

MS: We showed Simon, who’s always been our greatest supporter. He loves it, you know. I know he would shoot straight with us if he heard it and was like “Man, I’m kind of worried about the new album, I’m not really digging this” - he would have told us that. But instead he was like, literally, "This is the best song I’ve heard in I don’t know how long, I can’t tell you!" He was freaking out about it, you know.

EP: The standard is if we all can sit back and all of us individually feel really really good and 100% confident, then at that point it doesn’t matter, you know. And that song that was definitely the case. I mean, this is good…

EN: And I don’t know if they would have felt the same if that would have been the first song.

KM: Can you actually describe your music? The new music.

MS: I think we used to use this description on our last album, but I think it’s actually starting to fit better now: "Influenced by rock albums, classic bands."

KM: Such as?

MS: Madonna, Huey Lewis and the News (laughs). No, such as anything from the Kinks, the Beatles, especially now the folk music stuff like Joni Mitchell, anything from Simon and Garfunkel, James Taylor, anything that’s got folksy or classic artists. Fleetwood Mac, right now that’s huge. Or Jethro Tull, anything like that. You don’t want to record an album that sounds exactly like it was recorded in 1973, and then everyone shows up at a gig wearing a jacket that everyone wore in 1973, because I think that’s novelty, that’s a throwback. That’s what most bands do right now. This whole '80s thing is so out of hand right now. I’m laughing at bands that that’s their whole shtick, because you’re going to be done. It’s over. It’s already on the way out. The '80s revival was cool and fun, but it’s going to die again. We’re not trying to be a '70s band, a revival. We’re actually just really in love with a lot of the records and a feeling in that time period. We’re trying to recreate that. There was good songwriting going on back then, which is not really present now. The feel of those albums and the songwriting and the personalities and the depth of the songs—that’s what we’re influenced by.

KM: But none of you actually remember the '70s…

EP: We were in there for about eight months.

EN: Yeah, you’re right, but from history, from looking back, we had this idea in our heads that "hmm…I bet it was like this."

EP: If you listen to the albums from then compared to the albums today, it seems clear to us, that there’s something going on there that’s not going on here.

MS: I’ve been listening to Duran Duran, I’m not going to lie, I think they’re an incredible band and they actually wrote really good songs, a little bit corny sometimes, but these really big, strong singers, great songs, and they all played their instruments really well. It had a good feeling to it, and you don’t hear that now. A lot of modern rock sounds so fake to me. I hate being the guy who likes strictly vintage, that everything vintage is cool, but there is some truth to that. We don’t want to be some like, trendy throwback band like the Kings of Leon. I’m not trying to dog on them, but when you look at them and you see the album artwork and it’s written just like it was, it has a shtick to it, like that’s kind of the vibe of it. We’re not trying to come out and dust off these 1970s characters and sport these massive handlebar moustaches, we’re not trying to be something that’s fake, we’re trying to be guys now in 2005 who happen to love stuff that’s older, from the 70s or whatever, and trying to make an album that sounds current today. All we want to do is make an album, that when people open it up, they put it in the CD player and go, "this is great," and they love it. When they come home from work, they put it on, and when they’re at work they listen to it, and when they’re in a car on a road trip with their girlfriend, they’re listening to it. That’s all we want to do with our music; we don’t want to be like some novelty act or some kind of trendy thing.

EN: Does that describe our music? Music that has been influenced by classic bands, classic albums, but we live in 2005 so we’re trying to make something that’s current. We just happen to be influenced that kind of stuff.

EP: We have no choice who we’re influenced by…

EN: That probably tells you nothing…

MS: It’s hard to place yourself in a genre. It’s hard to put words to what your music is because of perception. All you can really say is what you listen to and what moves you and what you’re trying to create. The only way you can do that, unfortunately, is say “With this song we’d been listening to a lot of Neil Young and that’s how it came out on this one.”

EN: It seems like the more you talk about it, the stupider we sound.

EP: Like when people describe the last album, they’re always like lo-fi psychedelic pop and I don’t know how to put those words onto the first album, either.

MS: Well, it’s lo-fi because we recorded it at our house, we weren’t really trying to be lo-fi, psychedelic because we used some weird keyboard sounds, none of us are on drugs, especially Tim, for sure, the singer, he doesn’t do drugs. It’s not like he’s writing this on some big acid trip, so I guess we’re psychedelic lo-fi music, I guess.

EP: Good luck with that one.

After the interview, the Midlake men treated me to a preview of their one kinda-finished (at that time) song, "Roscoe." We crammed into Eric Pulido's summer-hot, racing-red Mini Cooper outside the Café Brazil in Deep Ellum and cranked the volume. I made a bootleg copy with my iPod, but I swore never, ever to let anyone hear it. I haven't. The Trials of Van Occupanther will be out soon, and a non-bootleg version of "Roscoe" is available to listen to right now. It's on a Bella Union sampler, and the guys aren't exactly happy with it, even yet, so they'd rather you wait for the real thing. But I have to say, I do love it. I think I'll get this new album.

Originally published on www.dallasmusicguide.com

Interview with Levi Smith

Levi Smith Band

Levi Smith looks fifteen, sounds forty, and is twenty-one. Just old enough to redeem his drink tickets, he’s mature enough to write lyrics that span the gap from teenage angst to mid-life crisis. Smith finds the pith of emotions and zeros in without wasting words. His show-ending song, “Bitterness is Sexy,” is classic, destined for breakup mix-tape glory: “We can still be friends; that’s the consolation prize you gave me in hushed tones over gourmet coffee… I am lonely, but I need another friend like you need another compliment.” He’s a writer at heart, and chose songwriting as his creative outlet because it was immediately gratifying. As he puts it, “What are pancakes other than an excuse to eat syrup?” For Smith, lyrics are the pancakes to convey the syrup of his thoughts. What inspires a universal song like “Bitterness”? “It was my first break-up not because of me doing something wrong, being apathetic, but because of her. Before, honestly, I didn’t care. But this time, I had exhausted all the tricks in my 19-year-old book. I was younger and she just wasn’t interested.”

Taller than he seems, older than he looks, Smith is still awkward on stage. Toes turned in, boots scuffed, and cartoon shirt rumpled, he is mussed just right for the front row of smiling groupies. Evidencing his “god-given ladykiller” skills (per his MySpace and website) he plays up the emotions in the songs to good effect. More rocker than singer-songwriter, Smith’s set is consistant and backed by the bass and drums duely noted in the album title, The One with Bass and Drums. “Young emo chicks seem to like the music, and old men love our bass player- something about his tone...and his high cheekbones. I want to put myself in the place of old men, to write from experience,” Smith says.

Smith has tatoos on one arm only. “Feel.” (with the period) is written in script along his inner arm where he can see it as he plays. “When you play mainly in coffee shops you can't depend on dancing or distortion to cover mistakes,” Smith says. The tatoo is there to remind him of what’s important to his audience. A modified Mexican flag with the Lone Star instead of a Golden eagle in the center is on his upper arm, and a Stephen Crane poem over a music staff encircles his wrist. "If I ever lose the other arm, people will either assume it had just as much ink as this one. If I lose this one, I’ll be instantly clean-cut,” Smith explains about his unadorned other arm.

He began composing at age sixteen, but “began writing decent songs at eighteen.” He’s a prolific songwriter and stays up all night. “I love it when no one but cops are out at 3am, and that’s OK, ‘cause I’m a speed limit kind of guy.” Smith is from the Rio Grande Valley and calls Lubbock home, because likes the small-town feel of the city. “I’ve never been in a traffic jam there.” He has lived briefly in Denver, North Richland Hills, Roswell, Abilene, Wichita Falls, and Corpus Cristi, which was the inspiration for “What Are You Waiting For?” “I’m the ‘you’ in the song. It’s my potential talking to me.” His songs are literal expressions of his emotions, in the tradition of Country artists. “I like the straightforward honesty (of Country). You have to admire them for not being subtle--there ain't much guesswork,” explains Smith, “Even if you don’t like the song, you know what they’re singing about.” Smith says he’s mostly influenced by Ryan Adams, Cory Branan, Dave Matthews, and Tonic. He laughs. “Yeah, Tonic, because...I'm not sure. I suppose they're just one of those inexplicable habits like watching The Weather Channel for comfort.” Simon and Garfunkel were also an early influence. “Paul Simon wrote the first line of 'The Sound of Silence' in the bathroom as a kid and finished it when he was a grown man. I go through multiple drafts, and most of the time go back to the first draft because it was the best.”

Levi Smith has a new album out. He describes it as a departure from The One with Bass and Drums: “This upcoming CD is much more realistic, both thematically and musically. We've already played all the songs live as they are on the CD, minus a few guitar layers and harmonies. I seriously doubt we can ever accurately re-produce on stage the songs on the other album without a big budget and even bigger delusions. Lyrically speaking, The Songs That Might Take Us Somewhere is a more self-centered record. It's mostly self-loathing, but that's still narcissistic, it just looks better from an audience's perspective. Aggression and desperation are two main adjectives that cross my mind when thinking of the melodies and instrumentation. You never know when a CD might become my legacy; if I die, I want the last songs I recorded to sound like I knew it was coming. The lyrics are less playful, they may be come off more vague than I intended, but I know in my heart that I put more thought into them.”

Interview with Flickerstick

Flickerstick came back home to Dallas to launch their critically acclaimed latest album, Tarantula. DMG caught up with them backstage at the Lakewood Theater and chatted them up about airline price gauging, Ryan Cabrera’s hair, and casseroles.

Only six years ago, when Deep Ellum bands played to packed venues, when the music scene wasn’t fractured into cliques, there rose a band called ‘Flickerstick’ for no good reason. Then they got famous with their friends, Tripping Daisy, the Toadies, and The Spree, and took it all away with them. Back at the Lakewood Theater for their Tarantula CD release party, DMG sat down with Brandin Lea, Rex Ewing, Fletcher Lea and new drummer, Todd Harwell, formerly of Doosu. We even caught up with Cory Kreig a little later. Relaxing in the obscenely florescent lighting backstage, the guys of Flickerstick were mellow and looking forward to their hometown crowd, even if that meant sharing a couple extra beers with their friends.

Dallas Music Guide: Your music has been described as ‘accessible’.

Brandin Lea: ‘Accessible?’ You think that?

DMG: You tell me.

BL: I haven’t heard anyone say that. I don’t know if we’re accessible.

Rex Ewing: Maybe the first record, I don’t really think this new one is.

Tarantula is a little more intricate than the first record was. I don’t know. It’s nice that we’re called that, but I’ve never heard that.

DMG: Your fans want to know when you’re touring again.

RE: We just got back; we were gone for a month. We just got back a week ago. We toured the eastern half of the States in October and we’re about to do a few West Coast dates next week. Actually, until January we’re just playing regional, then Florida.

RE: Somewhere it’s not cold!

DMG: It’s mainly your U.K. fans wanting to know when you’ll come back.

RE: (laughs) Tell them to send tickets!

BL: As soon as possible!

RE: It’s expensive to tour the U.K., to get all the… It was easier before, before the restrictions with airlines, but as far as getting your stuff over there it’s hard. It’s not even your amps or anything. They charge you for extra weight now; ten times more than they used to, so it’s just phenomenal to get the equipment over there.

DMG: Tell me about Flickerstick as a band. Describe your sound.

RE: Uh, Brandin? What is your sound?

BL: Man! (shakes head) I have no idea. I know that’s a ridiculous answer, but… It’s melodic, it’s rock, it’s unique, it’s… got some theateresque parts.

Fletcher Lea: I’ll go with alternative rock.

BL: Mainly I write songs that are all over the place. I don’t really know. I’ve asked that question a lot and some bands can go ‘we’re metal’ or ‘we’re this,’ ‘we’re that;’ we dabble in a lot of different areas.

DMG: You have fans that run from hardcore to indie to pop. I’ve seen you listed on blogs where the other bands are all Foo Fighters or U2 or Skinny Puppy. Where do you put yourselves in that mix?

BL: I never considered us a pop band. The closest we’ve gotten called is psychedelic pop. I’m more for that term than just … Pop bands to me are like that Ryan Cabrera, that’s a pop band. To be a pop band, we’d need more dancers. You know, I never knew anything about that guy- the first thing I knew about him was how he did his hair. (laughs) That was the very first thing I got, then his guitar. He does have great hair. And the second thing was that his girlfriend was Ashlee Simpson.

RE: Nothing about his music.

DMG: Any local bands you’ve been hearing buzz about?

BL: Black Tie Dynasty, Radiant* -they’re playing with us tonight, Red Animal War.

DMG: Which song on Tarantula is indicative of the direction Flickerstick will follow in the future?

BL: Every album should be different, and this album as whole speaks for itself.

DMG: The future of music looks like no more radio. How do you think bands will get in front of fans?

RE: The radio sucks; all ClearChannel stations play the same song all day long.

BL: The internet is a positive for bands. So many are able to get heard. But young 14- and 15-year-old listeners have short attention spans; they buy four or five songs that they like, where we used to follow the bands that we really liked over years. We’d buy everything they put out. Now the kids are bombarded with so much music that a band’s shelf life is shortened. There are way too many bands you can dive into next week. The younger fans’ attention span is so short. There’s always something new.

DMG: Bands on the Run was a blip of popularity on your steady rise. Do you see it that way, did you expect more?

BL: BOTR was three and a half years ago, I don’t remember it.

RE: Christmas is my favorite time.

BL: We got word of mouth from fans that saw the show.

DMG: What’s the plan for the future?

BL: Making good music, continuing to play. The band is what it is; anything else is out of our control and it’s handled by people who help, or not. That’s how it goes. We’re a band that likes to tour and put out records. Any more than that comes from others and is out of our control.

DMG: How was working with Keith Cleversley (producer for Tarantula and Mercury Rev, Flaming Lips)?

BL: He’s good at what he does. It was an interesting experience, a battle, but that’s what producers do.

DMG: You’re shedding and adding musicians and crew, not to mention management and record labels. What’s up?

BL: With Dom, everyone knows about that. And we fired our manager and that was our decision.

RE: Blood sucking leeches! They should die and burn!

BL: I wish it wouldn’t be that way. Not everybody gets along together.

DMG: Your lyrics have been described as ridiculous.

RE: Yeah? Bunch of haters.

BL: Sometimes there’s a hint of that. No more than 90%. I’ve tried not to write clichés and something out in left field. “Catholic Scars and Chocolate Bars” is ridiculous if you don’t know the meaning behind it.

Fletcher Lea: “Milk Shake”; that’s not a good song.

BL: Though supposedly the reviews (of Tarantula) have been positive.

RE: Tarantula- you gotta buy it. Say to all fans it’s the best record.

DMG: Thanks guys!

Brandin, Rex, Todd, and Fletcher left after their early soundcheck and about an hour later, Cory Kreig wandered in, dressed in a German army jacket that was the rage of the 80s and old cowboy boots. We had a few minutes to chat backstage before he joined the rest of the band….

DMG: Is it good to be home in Dallas?

Cory Kreig: Yeah, it’s good, um, fun and nice. Good, fun, nice. (laughs) Great answer, right?

DMG: You’re having your CD release in Lakewood. It’s not exactly NYC. How do you feel about that?

CK: We technically had a CD release there as well. We’ve had a few. This is just the Dallas version.

DMG: Anything different about this one?

CK: Yeah, more people are backstage drinking our beer here.

Manager Troy Ostensen wanders in and surreptitiously stares at a little bald nick in Cory’s closely shorn hair.

TO: Do the mohawk yourself?

CK: Yeah, thought I’d make it easy with the clippers.

TO: You got a little close in a spot.

CK: OK, stop looking at it, dude.

DMG: Have you heard of any good local bands?

CK: Locals? No, we’re not around here very much, with touring. The only time we’re ever in a bar is when we’re paid to be. In ’98 we were playing our first shows and Tripping Daisy, the Toadies, bands like that were around. We were playing six years ago. Now what we’re seeing is that not as many people go out as used to, generally. We’re seeing that everywhere, all over country. Even well-known bands that open for us in their hometowns have no attendance. When we were here, everyone was playing Deep Ellum. It was packed every night of the week with good bills, good attendance. There wasn’t as much crime then.

DMG: What’s your plan for the next five years?

CK: Retirement? (laughs) No, I have no idea.

DMG: Your fans want to know what kind of casseroles you like. They want to feed you on tour.

CK: Yeah, people bring us a lot of food. They think we’re hungry; I don’t get that. (laughs) It’s not like we’re emaciated or anything. Anything’s great. You need to eat. As long as it’s made with love, that’s the most important ingredient in music as well as casseroles, right?

DMG: Have you grown as writers and what direction do you see Flickerstick going?

CK: As songwriters? I’d like us to be recognized, by the Grammies, the American Music Awards. If you don’t say that, what’s the point? You’re the next Richard Marx – he’s got a new album coming out- but I need to curtail my remarks.

DMG: I’ll ask you the same thing I asked Brandin and Rex before; your music has been described as ‘accessible.’

CK: Yeah? Well, not many people are accessing it. I mean, the internet is accessible; our music’s not so accessible.

DMG: You think that the internet is the future for music?

CK: The internet saves bands. Radio is owned by two companies and they pick what goes on it.

DMG: Do you consider yourselves outside of radio?

CK: Well, we’re not on it. I’d like for our songs to be on the radio, but that’s a crap shoot these days.

DMG: Is the internet how people get introduced to Flickerstick?

CK: We’ve moved beyond introductions, at least I hope so.

Cory headed off to find the rest of the band after passing along some tips about chicken tetrazini and lasagna. After all, touring isn’t just about chocolate bars, beer, and trail mix. Flickerstick, while preferring the warmer states this winter, will most likely be somewhere near you, sometime soon.

Interview with Ken Bethea, Old 97s

Ken Bethea, lead guitarist of the Old 97s, lives the life musicians aspire to: he doesn’t have a day job, can make a call and get his band on a Starbucks compilation, and not play SxSW because they can get better gigs. Life’s good these days for the “97s.” Even with half the band split between the coasts with bassist Murry Hammond now living in LA and lead Rhett Miller recording an album in NYC, the Old 97s are doing just fine. Solo projects and touring haven’t changed the band, though kids and wives may have. In a candid conversation with DMG, Bethea looks back on where they have been and gives some practical advice to new bands just cutting their teeth on the DFW scene.

DMG: You guys just had a DVD come out, right?

KB: I haven’t seen it, I don’t own a copy; it wasn’t something that we had a lot to do with. What I did have a lot to do with, is we have a song on the Valentine’s 2005 Starbucks compilation, Sweethearts. I was at the Casa Linda Starbucks last summer, and it was raining, I stopped in to get a cup of coffee. We’ve been on a couple compilations, but none in five years. I always liked those Starbucks compilations; I always picked them up and looked at them, to see who’s on. I picked one up and I saw all the usual suspects, but us, that are in this whole thing. You know; Lucinda Williams, Ryan Adams, and I’m like, ‘Why are we not on this? It’s stupid.’ It’s because our former management didn’t push. I went home that day, immediately sent an email to our current management and said, ‘We need to be back in the Starbucks loop.’ Of all the little one-of things you do, it gets noticed; people buy those things. By the end of that day, we were on that compilation. It took four hours and two months later, we’re over on lower Greenville and recording that song. And I was happy: you know what? Got something done!

DMG: Just from walking into the Starbucks at Casa Linda?

KB: Just from saying I want to get this done.

DMG: So how is that now? Does that feel nice that you can make a couple phone calls and get what you want to happen?

KB: (blows raspberry) Yes, of course! Compared to the beginning, when you didn’t have anything? The whole thing in the Old 97s has been amazingly cool. Every single stop along the way, from the days that we played for tips, to the days when we paid our own, did what we could do to go on tour, and just humped it and lived on people’s floors, to these days where we make money -we’re not rich, but we’re not poor- and we can live in a decent neighborhood and we don’t have jobs. I don’t have a boss. (under his breath) Well, my wife. (laughs) But I don’t have any other kind of boss. I haven’t had a boss since 1993. Feb 26^th, 1993, as a matter of fact. My anniversary’s coming up! It’s amazing to be part of the national music community, where you make two phone calls and you make something happen and not have to pander. When you’re in a band that ultimately can’t make somebody else some money, you always have to go, ‘Come on… Come on….’ You feel like you’re always asking for a favor. But when you can carry your own weight, even if it’s not the weight of Paul McCartney, it’s still weight. You don’t have to go, (dejectedly) ‘We’re having a hard time getting a gig in Austin…’ It sucks being in that position. We were in it for about four or five years. I’ve got buddies, like the Deathray Davies, and while they’re a great band and all, they’ve still never quite crested into that world where they’ve been able to have their own elbow room and just call somebody and bam, it’s done. It sucks. ‘Cause I know those guys pretty good. Phillip’s also the drummer in I Love Math, John (Dufilho’s) other band and I play guitar with them sometime, actually. But it’s nice to know where you stand.

DMG: What’s your advice to young bands?

KB: Promote your shows when you play ‘em. Make posters. Play as often as possible and if you can play for free, that’s good. Because when you play for free, you can invite all your friends, your friends can invite their friends, and you can actually have a scene. You can have forty-five people show and you won’t have to feel guilty, and you won’t have to deal with the guest list, and they can come. Everybody can come. And at that point, if your music is any good, they will become fans. If your music’s not good, you’re screwed anyway, doesn’t matter. But if it’s good enough… That’s how we got fans. We played at (ticking them off on his fingers) Chumley’s, the Barley House, Bar of Soap -constantly- for a year and a half, and became everyone’s favorite neighborhood band that was not a big band, just a little band. But the fact that all these people could come see us for free, instead of going, ‘well, you know, they’re playing at Trees, and that’s $6…’ That’s not good, because you have to realize you ain’t worth six bucks in the beginning. You’re just not. You’re worth free; you’re worth fifty cents or a dime. You’re worth the tip bucket. And then, promote your shows. ‘Cause songwriting and all that, the creative process is what is reality with you. You gotta deal with that yourself. You can’t do anything … if your songwriting sucks, it just sucks. I mean, you can go to songwriting class, or something (chuckles), work on that. But you can always make posters, book the gigs.

DMG: What’s the future of the Old 97s?

KB: Record every two years, touring every summer. Then a lot when records are out, occasional things like Starbucks. Right now the immediate future is a Christmas album to come out this Christmas and a live album to come out either in the fall or next winter. I just had a call on that Friday, so the wheels are in motion. I’ve always wanted to do a Christmas album, so hopefully we won’t screw it up, because I love Christmas music. We’re trying to do the live album recording in April or May. There’s a place called Green Hall, which is down in New Braunfels. It looks like Sons of Hermann, but it’s in a little town called Green. It’s very cool. If we could get two nights there, that’s where we want to do it. It would be spectacular. “Old 97s, Live at Green Hall”; that means something. That’s something to show your grandkids. Not “Live at some bar,” I mean, that’s OK…

DMG: You mentioned that Sons of Hermann Hall is your favorite venue in Dallas.

KB: That’s one of them. I like the Granada and Gypsy. And I like Sons. It depends; I liked the Barley House when we were playing there. I liked Bar of Soap. I don’t really have a favorite one here. I liked Barley House because it’s old, it is what it is. I’m sad that it’s moved. It was a great place, it’s always free. Lot of great bands play there. It’s always been kind of a hole in the wall, but we just have a lot of memories at the Barley House. We had three or four of our stickers on the wall, and they were old ones from ’94, ’95.

DMG: What’s your best memory from there?

KB: The night we played with John Doe from X and all the power went off. Us four and John Doe on stage, playing an X song and the power went off. It was great, I mean it was cool, it was so much fun.

DMG: So, what’d you guys do?

KB: Stood there, just like we always do. It happened four months ago in L.A., too, at a big place, 1500 people there: power went off for 20 minutes. And so we just dealt with it and Rhett and Murry sang a couple of songs with acoustic guitars and I sat down and entertained all the people in front of me. We got an email from our management via the promoter of the place and it was the nicest email saying “You guys totally handled it.” Stuff like that doesn’t bug us, but in the world of music you have people who, hey, they’d have left. They’d have went, got their shit on the bus, said (imitating a British accent very proficiently) “Fuck this place, we’re outta here, can’t get your lights on, you fucking pieces of shit, voom... Johnny is gone!” What else are you going to do? I felt stupider leaving, plus at least there was some light, it was all our sound that went out. But at the Barley House with John Doe, it was dark. Everything went out. It happens. It’s happened at least ten times in twelve years.

DMG: You write, on your website, that “Drag It Up” is your most personal album.

KB: Oh, yeah. Yeah. I would definitely think it’s more introspective. Different albums have a tendency to take on a little bit of a life or a personality. We’ve had some albums where we’ve worked on energy and lifestyle, like drinking and chasing girls and partying and all that kind of stuff, and we’ve had some albums where we worked on song technique and how to actually make cool songs, like good-sounding songs. It doesn’t actually make the fans like it any better, but from a musician’s point of view, we wanted to get to that. Which is what we did with “Fight Songs” and “Satellite Rides.” We tried to get some emotional depth recorded on this album. We let some vocal sections spill out a little longer, whereas we had to lop that off on “Fight Songs” and “Satellite Rides.” We had to tighten those songs down to three minutes, on purpose. Because that’s what pop songs are, like classic Beatles pop songs are, bam, 2 minutes 45 seconds, or whatever. We let the songs on the album exist, and tried not to cram them, either pump them full of energy and speed, or tighten them into pop. Just put more acoustic, strummy stuff on it, so it’s good. I enjoy it. I was real happy with it.

DMG: Do you feel like your songwriting style has changed since you’ve had a family?

KB: I think more than anything, our lives are so different. A lot has to do with family. Yeah, it has changed a lot. In the beginning you really are playing in your band, drinking, and chasing girls. I mean, that’s what you’re doing. We were all single, and it’s representative. You listen to our first three albums and that’s what every single song’s about. I don’t know if we’ll ever be musicians that are gonna write songs directly about our children, but the fact that your life is stable and you have a nice neighborhood… it comes out, you know. You’re not writing about hoping you can cover rent.

DMG: I work with a lot of bands that are just starting. In fact, I’ve been asked why I want to cover local bands. You guys are a little more popular than I’m used to.

KB: You know, most people equate a band they’ve never heard of with ‘music must not be good,’ or that local bands must not be good. That’s totally, totally wrong. I went to college at UT and got into that world of little indie local bands that it was a big deal if they sold 500 records. And when I got over that hurdle that they could still be good, that they were just as good as these [major label bands], it was totally liberating. You’re like, ‘Hey, it’s good music.’ It’s just better than Phil Collins or whatever was popular at that time, or Prince. Dallas has a good music scene. Most people don’t realize it who live here. Even a lot of the other musicians don’t. Most cities have non-existent, not crappy, but non-existent music scenes. I mean look at Houston. That’s just not a music town. There’s always going to be little, small, micro-scenes anywhere; like Tyler has a micro-scene. Dallas is definitely top ten; it’s close to top five. Chicago and New York, San Francisco. Seattle. Austin. But you know, you go to Cincinnati and I’ve never had any feeling there’s a local music scene that was producing, say, ten good bands. Like Deathray and Chomsky and us, Polyphonic Spree and pAper chAse; good bands. Bands that have a chance, you know. It may not happen, but they have an opportunity, it could happen.

DMG: Do you think that the music scene in Dallas has changed recently?

KB: Not recently. It changed in the 90s; it went from non-existent in the 70s, or very dinky in the 70s, to the burgeoning Deep Ellum community that started in about ’85, to mainstream in the 90s. But not any different between now and what it was ten years ago, I don’t think.

DMG: I get the feeling from other bands that there’s a little bit more of a momentum, just recently, just in the past year.

KB: Well, I think that maybe at the micro-level, you know, maybe if you’re down there and you’re sweating it out at the level of Deathray and Chomsky or whatever, or maybe a little lower than that, you’re much more in contact then with the ebb and flow. But from -for lack of a better term- from the top of the heap looking down, it’s still... it’s healthy. I think that maybe they probably thought it might have been worse three years ago, ‘cause in their mind maybe their band wasn’t doing as well. Whereas, now “Hey, man, a little more momentum...” and really it’s more personal. Most of the time when you’re measuring anything in life, it’s real personal. I talk to fans who tell me, “Your set’s the greatest thing I’ve ever seen” and you talk to the next one and they say, “You guys were a little bit off tonight” and if you really get down to it, one of them had a double espresso on the way in and the other one drank four beers and ate a giant burger and dude, you’re worn out, you’re done before you even got here!

DMG: So it’s hard to judge how you’re doing?

KB: In the beginning, you suck. There’s just no way around it, all bands suck. I sucked, I was horrible. My first band with Phil, it was beyond horrible. Just terrible. Rhett sucked when he was 15. That’s just part of it, you get better, and the difference between a good live band, like Deathray Davies, and Eisley is miles apart. Everybody does studio tricks. It’s not like somebody’s more legit than somebody else. It’s what you do in there. Everybody’s been cheating for years in the studio. But Eisley has potential to be a great studio band, ‘cause their songs are cool-sounding. They look great, so the potential for them to be big is bigger than Deathray. I don’t think they have any tour base at all.

DMG: Well, they toured with Snow Patrol…

KB: Doesn’t matter. That’s zero. If you’re opening for anybody, that normally is zero. No, it’s not zero, it’s point five. I mean, so what, so you’re opening up for some band, you go up and play there and five thousand people come? You go back a month later, you play your own band, your own gig, you’ve got two hundred people there. If they have fun, the next time you come, you’ll have four hundred people there. But if they don’t have fun, the next time you come, you’ll have 75. If that. It’s point five. Opening is completely nothing. We opened for big bands and not once has it ever made any real difference in anything. We sold an extra thousand records. It doesn’t change your life, normally. It’s rough, in the beginning. Like Dylan Silvers and [DARYL]; I’ll think well, they’re just getting started. They’re not. They’ve made four or five albums and been at it, and know what a tuner is. In the beginning, most bands are all like, ‘I don’t know what a PA is.’ It’s like one time, this band was opening for us at Sons of Hermann... normally, now we take control of who opens for us, but for whatever reason we didn’t, and the band that was opening up literally was a brother-in-law of somebody at Sons. We’d never heard of them, but what was very -in the band world- in poor taste for them, was that they’d never heard of us. That doesn’t get you anywhere with the headliners, to kind of walk in and go “You guys are from here?” and you’re like, OK, so you’re not really part of the Dallas music scene because hell, if you were, you’d at least know who the hell our band name was. Come on, I’ve heard of every band in this town, I may not know them but I’ve at least heard of them, of the ones that sell a few tickets. And then these guys were up there looking around, and the drummer asked Phillip something about his drums, and Phillip said “No, you’re going to have to set up over there, ‘cause I don’t want to strike” and then he goes “Strike?” and Phillip goes, “Move your shit after you get through.” We only strike if we’re playing with somebody we like, like Deathray we’ll strike, or Chomsky we’ll strike. But we ain’t gonna strike after the no-name Addison band, and it was just funny. They were so green and so…. You’re just like, “Guys, enjoy it. ‘Cause it’s going to be a while before you get to play for this many people again.”

The Old 97s are gassing up the blue van and heading out on tour again. Check their website for details on the summer schedule and more ‘97s site updates as soon as Ken finishes up doing his taxes.

www.old97s.com

© Dallas Music Guide 2005