Tracklisting:

Blizzardo – Acid Trash Mix by SUPMAG

Blizzardo – You Don’t Know Jack by SUPMAG

Daniel O’Sullivan has been a familiar face on the London music scene since the early ’90s from his work in über prog band Guapo. Weaving enormous sonic tapestries of immense complexity and power, Guapo floored audiences globally. Guapo later spawned the band Miasma & The Carousel of Headless Horses, a Victorian gypsy horror trip featuring Leo Smee, bassist of doom metal gods Cathedral, culminating with the album Perils (Mimicry, 2005). The most recent O’Sullivan offshoot is Mothlite, which saw him beginning to explore new realms, including writing vocals and singing them himself. From bit parts in SUNN O))) and a role in Norway’s Ulver, a further project emerged: Æthenor, which blends jazz improvisation with electronics and the heavy dynamics of metal. Æthenor brought O’Sullivan together with Stephen O’Malley of SUNN O)))), Kris Rygg of Ulver, and UK jazz percussionist Steve Noble of N.E.W. among others. Their album, The Faking Gold & Murder (VHF, 2009), also featured David Tibet of Current 93 on vocals and is typical of Æthenor’s experimental attitude.

Steve Moore, the other half of Miracle, is a founding member of US duo Zombi who turned a whole generation of metal and hardcore kids on to the esoteric delights of analog synths and complex polyrhythms. For Zombi, Steve plays synths and bass and his partner Anthony Perrera plays drums. Their trippy tunes have found homes on extreme metal stalwarts Relapse, who released Cosmos (2004), and HydraHead, who released Surface to Air (2006). The latest Zombi album, Escape Velocity was just released on Relapse this May. Residing now in upstate New York, Steve keeps himself busy scoring films and building his own synths and composing, but only when he’s not producing techno under the guise of Gianni Rossi, pop under the name Lovelock, or just releasing his own solo material.

When these two musical minds shacked up together, one had to wonder what would emerge. There was the possibility that new musical notes would be discovered, that banks of analog synths 50 deep would battle it out with cellos and grand pianos. Literally anything could happen. Who would have guessed that the result would turn out to be glorious, sing-along AOR pop music at its most swooning and beguiling?

I met up with Daniel and Steve to talk about the mysteries of their audio union in February, just as the first Miracle release, the Fluid Window EP (House Anxiety) dropped on an unsuspecting world.

I think it’s interesting, Daniel, how I’ve always thought of you as very much a musician, maybe even a musician’s musician, and I guess that could be applied to Steve, too. With Miracle you are moving further into electronic realms than ever before. Not to mention the fact that you are now singing! Did you have a conscious desire to move away from more organic instruments?

Daniel: I don’t think I’ve necessarily moved away from organic instrumentation, as you put it. I’ve certainly become more interested in programming and production in recent years. The new Mothlite sounds are also indicative of that. However, this is just one of many processes that I like working with. Æthenor is live improvisation using electric keyboards. I play various instruments in Ulver. With Miracle I have a different role, centered mainly around singing and production.

Steve: I’ve corrupted Daniel with my analog synthesizers and drum machines (laughs). I’m basically still working with the same sound palette I use with Zombi. But with Daniel’s vocals these sounds take on a very different form.

Perhaps in a similar way, this has to be your most pop work to date. Is that a result of you mellowing or is it more a desire to work within a different form with new constraints?

Daniel: Yes, I definitely see pop as more of an expressive vehicle than I ever did before. I don’t think I’ve mellowed. I would say quite the contrary, actually. Pop music often has a desperation and a sadness to it that more oblique forms rarely accommodate. I suppose I’m concerned with the language of humans now, whereas before I would probably avoid that for fear OF being cliché. Now I love clichés. (Laughs)

Its really interesting that you are experimenting with pop. Both of you are best known for music that has been much more extreme and certainly allied with what could be called extreme metal labels, like Relapse and Rise Above, for example. I can imagine loads of people being surprised by Miracle. Are you surprised by Miracle?

Steve: (Laughs) I’m definitely surprised. When we started working together I didn’t even know Daniel could sing!
I thought we’d just be making some esoteric electronic/experimental jams.

Daniel: It was like planting a seed without knowing what variety of tree would grow from it. I guess people know not to expect one specific thing from either of us by now. Personally I’ve never played in an extreme metal band, despite the associations. Or maybe I have, I don’t know. (Laughs) Is Sunn O))) extreme metal? I wouldn’t say so.

Steve: Zombi’s on an extreme metal label but we’re neither extreme nor metal. We’re more like new age post rock. And for the record, I’ve never played with the band Earth. [Ed. note: Steve has a namesake that has played with both Sunn O))) and Earth, as well as solo. Confusion abounds over this with press and public alike.]

How did you two meet to collaborate on something? Daniel’s in London, and Steve, you are in the U.S.

Steve: We met on the road actually. Guapo and Zombi did a short tour of the East Coast. All of us piled into the Zombi-mobile, sharing gear, sleeping on floors, cracking jokes for hours every day in the van. Tour friendships are like hyper-accelerated, condensed friendships. You kind of have to open up to people very quickly when you spend so much time together but also know that in a week or two, tour is over and you have no clue when or even if you’ll ever see these people again.

Daniel: Those mushrooms on the road to Tennessee cinched it, I reckon. (Laughs)

I can imagine that would make or break it. Was it always planned that you would spawn a beast such as Miracle?

Daniel: No, the name came after a couple of years of working over the wire, we literally had no big plan for this project. It’s only this last year that it’s gathered real momentum.

Right, so how long have you been working to get to this stage? How much material do you have now?

Steve: I guess it’s been almost four years since we first started trading files? We’ve just started exchanging ideas for a full-length, but as it stands we really only have the five songs from the EP.

Daniel: We’ve had a recent breakthrough with material for the album though, right? I think this material will come thick and fast now.

What’s your most beloved musical instrument or similar musical enabler in this project?

Steve: Probably my Sequential Circuits Pro-One. I think I used it on every track on the EP.

Daniel: I used an Arp Odyssey on a couple of tracks. Although, the most beloved would be this cranky old upright piano in my friend Robbie’s house.

Someone somewhere will understand what those all are when they read this! You got me back at the piano bit. I think musical labels, like ‘witch house’ ugh, are almost utterly obsolete these days. But what would you write on the File Under sticker on your record?

Steve: New age.

Daniel: Yeah. (Laughs) Or maybe ‘flawed idealism’.

I was just reading about some music that was described as ‘non-entertaining’, and that was its selling point. It got me to wondering, what is music for? What do you think your music is for? Do you think different projects that you are involved in are for different things?

Steve: I definitely get the feeling this music is for actual people. Most of the music I make is basically just for me, for my own sanity. My art keeps me sane.

Daniel: It’s a good question, and one that artists don’t ask themselves nearly enough. I think Miracle works on a few different levels, actually. It’s full of paradoxes, both musically and lyrically. Mainly it’s the problem of the transcendental versus the inescapable. Basic human condition stuff. Of course different projects fulfil different needs but there is a wider perspective and pertinence to Miracle that I’m enjoying right now.

The reason I bring this up is because many people believe that the American deviant scene has nothing more to offer other than an impolite rehashing of ’60s garage, ’70s hard rock, or ’80s three-chord punk. But in a climate as consistently bizarre and blended as the American underground, shocking, surrealist innovation is bound to occur as layer upon layer of material sediment is protected and deified. Dog Leather certainly echo tradition, vaguely, but their reinterpretation and blending of screwed-up hip hop, lewd wit, and – of all things – abstract noise, is easily classified as insanity. To wit: a recent evaluation of Internet reactions to a show in Williamsburg has as many “This is the worst shit I’ve ever heard” tweets as “This is the best shit going right now” ones.

Dog Leather is a collaboration between Baltimore-based (and somewhat counfoundingly pseudonymed) DJ Dog Dick and a wanderer – both location- and genre-wise – who plays under the name Sewn Leather. Their actual names are Max Eisenberg and Griffin Pyn, respectively, and I met them in the heart of downtown Williamsburg right before the aforementioned show, which took place at a venue called Monster Island Basement. Max is more gregarious. He had streaks of fading yellow dye in his hair, and he was wearing ripped jeans and the same flannel button-up that I’d seen in most of his Facebook pictures. Griffin is much more reserved. He dressed in black from head-to-toe, and his hood was always up. Later, when he took off his sweatshirt during the show, you could see that both of his arms were covered in stick-and-poke tattoos, down to the tips of his fingers.

Both men, however, are extreme performers. Someone told me they thought it was like Insane Clown Posse, but good. They are playing electronics on tables, doing tape loops and other things I don’t understand, in the service of scratching out beats that sound like they are being played through a metal garbage can. Max frequently sings melody and raps with his whole body. Griffin is also screaming in the mic with a snottier attitude.

Griffin is also almost violently physical. During that show, he climbed what seemed like a sheer wall to hang upside-down off of a pipe by his legs, while shouting into the mic. He fell on his head and got up immediately, unfazed. I’ve seen him spend entire sets on top of crowds, literally, including one memorable show at the Silent Barn in Queens where at one point there was a gigantic figure-eight coffee table, two other people, and a chair all crowdsurfing with him while someone threw frozen chicken chunks at the crowd (yes, there is video). Max tends to stand his ground, but he is no less dynamic. At Monster Island Basement, during a bit of technical trouble, he bantered, “My phone is broken. If you’ve been trying to reach me, put your fingers to your temples, and imagine I’ve died and I’m in heaven, enjoying my existence…” He went on for a while, until the problem was fixed. Dog Leather win Best in Show at the End of the World Music Awards, every time you see them.

So, I took these guys out to pizza as a ploy to get an interview. I brought ’SUP contributor Alaina Stamatis along with me to help ask questions because, honestly, I was nervous that they wouldn’t be easy to talk to. Predictably, the interview was a little bizarre. We began to chat informally as we walked to the restaurant. Appropriately, there were dogs barking in the distance.

Alaina (Pointing at a bar across the street): One time I was there, and there was a roach on the bar and I said ‘There’s a roach on the bar, give me a free drink.’ And it worked.

Max: I worked at a really fancy restaurant in St. Louis, and their specialty was Sunday brunch. One day I served a cup of coffee that had a roach swimming in it.

Griffin: Whoa! You saw it, and then you served it?

Max: I saw it when it was on the table, and then the person that I served it to saw it and I was right there.

Alaina: So that means roaches have no problem with intense heat.

Max: No.

Griffin: They can survive anything.

Ari: Nuclear holocaust, right?

Griffin: Yup.

Alaina: How far away do they need to be?

Ari: I don’t know. I think they just need to not be crushed by anything, and then they survive.

Max: And then they evolve to be roach people.

Ari: What do those people look like?

Alaina: You and me.

Ari: Like, you and me, specifically?

Max: Yeah (laughing). I was actually trying to think of a celebrity.

Ari: Dan Aykroyd?

Max: Oh yeah.

Ari: Poor guy. He’s a roach person.

Griffin: I thought he was an alien.

Max: Yeah, he’s an alien.

Alaina: Conehead.

Ari: Is he a conehead?

Max: No, he’s really obsessed with aliens, though. There’s this great YouTube video, it’s called “Dan Aykroyd – Unplugged on UFOs”. It’s just 40 minutes of him chain smoking Marlboro’s and drinking coffee and just talking about everything he knows about aliens and UFOs and government conspiracies.

(We turn the corner in silence.)

Max: Once, when I was in middle school, it was the end of the day, and right before all the kids were going to get let out this car burst into flames right in front of the school. Everyone just bum-rushed the front gates and all the faculty were desperately trying to contain the excitement of all the kids. They were trying to keep all the kids inside and the kids were like, ‘No way, school’s over, we’re leaving! We wanna see this frickin’ car!’ And the car is just billowing smoke and flames. Everyone was really going crazy. But the car went out, and then we went home.

Alaina: It didn’t explode.

Max: No, it didn’t. That’s what the faculty was really afraid of, that it would take some of us out with it.

(We arrive and get sorted with the pizza. Everyone but me orders a barbeque chicken slice, a commonality at weird Brooklyn pizza places. The place is lined with pinball machines. Except for one player, and the piazaiolis, we are the only people present.)

Max (Gesturing toward a themed pinball machine): My roommates all play this game all the time now, Texas Hold ‘em Poker.

Alaina: In real life?

Griffin: Yeah, they built a poker table.

Max: Yeah, they are so serious about it.

Griffin: I’ve been thinking about that today, the progression of [your roommate] just playing it all the time on his laptop in the kitchen, to them playing around the kitchen table, to them building the huge-ass poker table.

Max: Yeah, it’s kind of taken over the whole cultural environment of my house. There’s poker nights twice a week. When we have shows now they are just playing poker the whole time. I live in a place that has shows. I’m really trying to avoid getting fully into it.

Ari: Do they play for money?

Max: Yeah, they do.

Griffin: They just played for like 18 hours the other night, and [another roommate] won a hundred bucks.

Max: At my house they play a tournament, where you buy in for $5, and you get some chips. And you can keep buying in if you lose out. You don’t end up spending more than five or ten bucks, but one person wins the whole pot at the end.

Ari: I don’t know how to play it.

(We get our pizza from the counter.)

Max: I’ve never had barbeque chicken pizza.

Ari: It’s pretty good. So, what was the moment when you guys started to play together instead of just separately?

Griffin: It’s not instead of.

Ari: Oh, sorry, I know. In addition to, I mean.

Max: There was a big show in Baltimore that was coincidentally right after we were getting back after a European tour, and it worked out that we could have a set together, so we did it. And then this local cultural philanthropist guy, Stewart Mostofksy, he runs a label called Ehse, which is what our record is out on, said, ‘Oh, I’ve got to put out a record by you guys. A Dog Leather record.’ And we were like, ‘Alright, we’ll do it!’ And originally we’d intended that we’d just go into the studio and jam, it would be like a jam record, but once we started working on it—

Griffin: The night before we went into the studio, we got stoned and we jammed and we’re like, ‘Oh, we’re gonna make real songs!”

Max: Yeah, we started making real songs. And it turned into something more distinct than just DJ Dog Dick and Sewn Leather jamming together.

Ari: What do you think is distinct about it?

Max: The songs we make as Dog Leather, they’re similar to songs we would do on our own. And sometimes we’ll do a Dog Dick or a Sewn Leather song during our live set, but the songs we write as Dog Leather are just distinctly Dog Leather songs.

Alaina: They have their own flavor.

Max: Yeah, totally.

Alaina: How long have you guys known each other?

Max: Three years? Something like that.

Ari: Did you meet in Baltimore?

Max: No, I think we met in Chicago.

Griffin: We kinda met in Baltimore, I think.

Max: Oh yeah. I guess we met when you were, like, a teenager or something. But we didn’t really connect at that point. But pretty much right when we really met each other, we started going on tour together. So we got pretty, like, deep, you know? In our relationship. (Laughs)

Alaina: Do you finish each other’s sentences?

Max: Sometimes, maybe. Yeah, I’m sure that happens.

Alaina: Do you dream about each other?

Max: Sometimes, yeah. Griffin’s been in dreams of mine.

Alaina: What does he do?

Max: Nothing I can think of off the top of my head that’s different than just like your friends in your dreams. I haven’t had any all-telling mystical dreams—

Alaina: Like where Griffin tries to kill you?

Max: Yeah, or I see Griffin and then look in the mirror and all my teeth fall out.

Ari: Can you describe Baltimore?

Max: Well, Baltimore, aesthetically, on the outskirts of town where lots of people live, is really dilapidated. There are a lot of abandoned houses that are in rows together. There’s the Baltimore row house – that is how most of it is set up. A whole block is there, and all the houses are connected. It’s like townhouses but it’s more, I don’t know, linear, I guess. There’s open drug markets on the streets. It’s 80 per cent black people, but it’s really racially mixed-up. The poor neighborhoods have white and black people in them. I grew up in St. Louis and there’s a very distinct racial divide there. Where I live in Baltimore, it’s a gnarly ghetto, and I could not live in a neighborhood like that in St. Louis and survive.

Griffin: Oh, hell no!

Max: I’d just be killed or robbed instantly. But there’s an acceptance of all kinds of other people, I think, in Baltimore. It’s a jive town, you know?

Griffin: People seem interested in each other, you know?

Max: Everyone’s like, ‘Hey, what’s up!’

Ari: Do you think you could describe a texture of Baltimore? Does it have a textural feeling?

Max: Yeah. The texture of a landfill, or something. A lot of the houses that are abandoned, people will dump in them. They fill up with trash.

Ari: Like, to the ceiling?

Max: Yeah, totally. If you stand on my roof in West Baltimore and look out on the rooftops and the all the streets around it – we’re on a hill so you can see all over the place – it kind of looks like a third-world shanty town, in this way. There’s litter flying everywhere. A lot of the rooftops are kinda jerry-rigged, you know? There’s a lot of character. But that would be the texture. Just trash everywhere. Litter, soiled walls, peeling paint, wasted people. There’s people, like, totally wasted, walking around at all times.

Griffin: Nodding out.

Ari: Do you ever feel like you are being poisoned?

Max: I do, yeah. Like I said, I grew up in St. Louis, and when I moved to Baltimore I immediately started having regular respiratory problems. I got freaked out about it at first, but I sort of accept it now as a trade-off. It’s a really cool city to live in, for one. Two, you are kind of in the thick of things, culturally, in America, and it’s probably the cheapest. I pay very minimal rent compared to everyone I know. So it’s worth it.

Alaina: You guys live in the Bank, and that was an actual bank. When was it a bank?

Max: It closed down in the early ’90s. And when the bank moved out, it was abandoned, but I think some people were squatting there. But half of the roof had collapsed and it just turned into a rot pit. In the six years we’ve lived there, we’ve basically had to gut it out and rebuild it.

Alaina: There’s no marble?

Max: Naw. The bank façade was this retro ’60s veneer. It was so gross. There was carpet everywhere, and yellowing gray curtains. It was nasty, really nasty.

Ari: Do you think you might be writing poetry?

Max: Yeah, I definitely feel like I’m writing poetry. That’s kind of an excuse that I’ve used to keep being a rapper. As DJ Dog Dick, that’s the one way I’ve been able to keep from being like ‘What the fuck am I doing? I’m a white rapper, what the hell!’ and then I think, ‘No, I’m writing poetry!’ Hip-hop or rap is a good way, as a music performer, to be doing poetry.

Ari (To Griffin): What do you think about your words?

Griffin: I’m grateful when I come up with them.

Alaina: So ‘Ladies is trouble?’ (An allusion to a slightly infamous tattoo Griffin has on his hand)

Both: Yes (laughing).

Max: It’s cool when you are writing lyrics and stuff, you can build this narrative that’s not contrived. You’re not building it out of nothing, but you’re just interpreting your own life, and what you perceive around you, into your art. It’s one of the most direct ways of translating that. The words can be abstract, but you’re just relating.

The first time I heard Native Speaker, one influence after another kept slapping me round the face: female ’80s and ’90s singers like Björk and Kate Bush, krautrock stalwarts like CAN and Neu!, new school experimental acts like Battles and Animal Collective. While all these elements are unabashedly present in their music, BRAIDS retain their specificity by making sure that they rise above mere imitation, and firmly occupy a niche all their own.

When I finally caught the band play at Glasslands in Brooklyn, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. They had played NYC a few times before, and releasing a record on Kanine is pretty much a stamp of excellence around here, but I remained slightly skeptical. Surely it would prove difficult to recreate the lushness of their album at a small-sized venue with a, let’s face it, notoriously wonky sound system? But disappoint they did not, and tracks like Native Speaker’s opener “Lemonade” and much-blogged-about single “Plath Heart” shimmered with all the gloss I had hoped for. After the show, I hung out with Raphaelle and drummer Austin Tufts backstage while lead guitarists Katie Lee and Taylor Smith packed up their gear diligently in the background. They were really hungry, so I told them where to go for a hamburger before I asked my first question.

Your music has some really solid pop undertones, even though for lack of a better word, it’s somewhat ‘experimental’. Are you guys huge pop music fans?

Raphaelle: I definitely am. I grew up listening to Top 40 music. I was really big into Britney Spears and Myá, and I love Madonna. I love her so much! And I’m really into Lady GaGa. So maybe that’s where the pop undertones and coming from. Austin’s more into jazz, Taylor and Katie are more into like, alternative music.

Austin: I think a lot of the pop sensibilities in our music come from the fact that we’re always striving to have a strong sense of melody, and that’s the most important part of a pop song. Creating that melody, right? We always try to focus on every facet of our music, be it rhythmic, harmonic, or melodic. We try and focus on the melodic part and make sure that it’s not weaker than the others, thus we embed a lot of strong melodies. Even though there are a plethora of parts going on at the same time, each one is melodically strong. You can listen to it on many different levels, and still get a sense of melody.

Tonight was the first time I’ve seen you guys perform, and you get the impression – and I’m not sure if this is true or not – that the band is a very democratic, collaborative endeavor. Is that the case? How do you go about creating music as a group?

Raphaelle: It’s definitely all collective. I write the lyrics and the lead vocal parts, but—

Austin: Well, that’s the thing, even the lead vocal parts get picked apart and—

Raphaelle: Well, not too much on Native Speaker.

Austin (To Raphaelle): Well, not too much on Native Speaker, but I don’t want to narrow this down to just that one record.

Raphaelle: But even on “Candy Spills”—

Austin: Well, I wrote the melody on “Candy Spills”. For example.

Raphaelle: Well, yeah.

Austin: Everyone’s always taking part. It’s a very collaborative, very holistic process.

How did that process evolve? Did you just find the right people, and it clicked?

Raphaelle: It was very organic in the sense that we got comfortable around each other. When we first started, I was writing a lot of folk-pop songs, and so we were kind of doing the whole acoustic, folk thing. Then, as we got more comfortable, people felt more able to write and to share ideas. So now that we are extremely comfortable with each other (laughs) we all write very collectively.

(To Raphaelle) One thing that strikes me immediately is that, you have a very evocative voice. You all do, actually. I didn’t realize on the record how many of the harmonies were shared amongst the members of the band, and now that I’ve seen you guys live, I have a better appreciation of that, but specifically when I hear your voice I get a lot of different elements from other performers, while staying unique. Actually, I don’t really know where I’m going with this question, I guess I’m just complimenting you? (Laughs)

Raphaelle: Thank you! (All laugh)

Anyway, you seem very trained. When did you first realize you could sing? As a child?

Raphaelle: I would sing in the shower a bunch, and my mom would say, ‘Oh Raph, that sounded so nice!’, and I’d get really embarrassed. I guess I’ve always been singing, but not seriously until maybe four years ago, when we started the band. I started singing a lot.

Austin: She started playing acoustic guitar and stuff, and it was kind of a natural accompaniment for her voice, and I sort of urged her, like, ‘Raph! You have a really nice voice! You should try this.’

Raphaelle: All my songs at first were really, really dark and morose (laughs).

Austin: But you still had a nice voice (laughs).

Any specific subjects?

Austin: Your relationship with your mom, a lot.

Raphaelle: Yeah, my relationship with my mom—

Austin: Which isn’t that dark and morose (laughs).

Raphaelle: My mom’s made some funny decisions. Oh, and there was a boy in high school who got very addicted to cocaine, so I wrote a song about that. I dunno, I kept using lyrics like, ‘Going down’. ‘I’m going down…’, like, in every song (laughs). What the fuck does that mean? I was in high school, maybe depressed sometimes, so, you know. (To Austin) Are you mad at me?

Austin: No?

Raphaelle: Oh, I just thought maybe because of the lyrics thing.

Austin: No, not at all!

Raphaelle: Okay. I just wanted to make sure. I love you!

Austin (laughing): I love you too! (All laugh)

Are you guys gearheads? One of my current obsessions are bands that use a lot of gear. It sounds like you spend a fair amount of time in the studio.

Raphaelle: You mean like techies?

Yeah! Are you techies?

Raphaelle: Oh yeah. Big time. Taylor’s a huge techie.

Austin: Yeah, especially Taylor.

Raphaelle: Taylor’s the biggest techie ever.

Austin: The thing is, we have a lot of ideas when we write and compose, and its really hard to be bound by the physical limitations of instruments, and one of the easiest ways to get around that is to find gear and find really creative ways of using gear to push those boundaries and be able to move beyond the limitations of just a guitar, or just a drum set, or just a vocal. So yeah, we look to gear a lot for that.

I think there’s been a big resurgence in techie bands like BRAIDS in the last, maybe, five years, because bands like, say, Animal Collective or Battles are so much more accessible to people and popular than their counterparts were 10 or 15 years ago. And you can get that type of gear way cheaper than you could in the past, too. I think those things make for a consciousness among music fans that experimental music is more acceptable, in a way, because it’s more ‘to the people’.

Austin: I think it stems from computers becoming integrated into music-making. It allows very lush and multi-layered music to me made. Then there are still people that say, ‘I don’t want to make music with computers,’ so then hardware like loop pedals start to become very prevalent, and the companies that make the hardware are saying, ‘Well, people can do all of this on computers now, we can’t make these so expensive,’ and they lower the prices on effects pedals and loops and stuff, so that not everybody just goes to computers. We hate using computers on stage. We think it’s way more organic and way more challenging, and it pushes us as musicians and thinkers to have to create everything on stage. Everything you hear in our set is created on stage.

Yeah, there was a point during the show where Raphaelle was finishing a song and starting another one and—

Raphaelle: I pushed the wrong loop pedal! (Laughs)

(Laughing) But it was really cool! The fact that you can still make a mistake onstage while using electronics.

Raphaelle: Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean!

It’s just funny, because this has come up in just about every recent interview I’ve done with a band that uses electronics. The ‘computers on stage vs. no computers on stage’ discussion. Do you think that there’s really a difference musically, at the core, or is it just a performance aspect? Is there a difference between creating music with software and creating music with hardware, really?

Austin: Well, there’s definitely a difference creating in the two environments. For example, Native Speaker was completely created using hardware. We didn’t use any computers, but when we went to record it, we had to put it in the computer environment, which was difficult. But now, on some of our newer music, we’re definitely making music in a computer-based environment, because it’s limitless. So there’s definitely something to be said about making a very conscious decision about the environment in which you wish to create. We’ve already worked with hardware a lot, so now we want to try using software, and it’s breeding tons of new possibilities for us. Now we have to go back and try and recreate that in a live environment. I think that from a live perspective, it’s definitely a lot more stunning to see somebody play all the parts and manipulate them, for a band like Battles or something. They just push themselves so hard, whereas somebody that can just like, press play and move a couple knobs or whatever—I just really respect it when people actually play all the parts.

Yeah, I mean the only bands that can pull off the whole ‘just press play’ thing are people like Daft Punk—

Raphaelle: Yeah, or Aphex Twin. He needs to use software (laughs).

(Laughing) Could you imagine if he tried though? To like, do all the little sounds on a million different pedals.

Raphaelle: There’s actually this piece of equipment, oh, what is it called… (pauses) It’s a box, and it has all these buttons on it? Anyway, I saw this really cool YouTube video where this piano was hooked up to this box, and what the box does is take samples and cut them up, and this person was doing an Aphex Twin song, live. I think it was that song “April 14th”.

But so what as a band is more fulfilling to you? Writing the songs, recording them, or playing them live? Since
we’re on this whole ‘live-vs.-the-studio’ discussion.

Austin: The whole process is different. You learn so much from each individual process. In terms of immediate pleasure, it would be live, playing live, writing live and rehearsing live.

Raphaelle: I love listening back to the record though.

Austin: When you’re recording, it’s such a huge learning experience and such a slap in the face all the time that it’s like, ‘Oh, this is what I really sound like? Okay, I’m going to have to work on that.’ (Laughs)

Raphaelle: It’s not immediately rewarding because you have to constantly hear it back. Like, usually when I hear live performances I’m like, ‘Urrrgghhh. I have a lot to work on.’ But when I don’t listen to them, I’m like, ‘Yeah! That was awesome!’ Recording was really fun though, like when those songs were done, that was a really good feeling. That was like, nine months of work.

Like a baby.

Austin: Exactly.

Raphaelle: Like a baby.

Austin: One of the things that excites me about music is moving forward, and progressing, and getting better at what I’m doing. Getting closer and closer to being able to express exactly what I feel, and exactly the stuff that I have in my head. Both of those environments – the live environment and the recording environment – move me forward in different ways.

Cauldron combine the heavy, down-tuned sound of bands like Cathedral and Celtic Frost with the catchy traditional metal of Anvil and Exciter. The choreographed guitar moves and raspy, melodic vocals touch on the heavier spectrum of good time ’80s rock as well. Following the recording of the killer Into the Cauldron EP (New Iron Age Records, 2007), Earache Records swiftly signed the band and released their fantastic debut album Chained to the Nite (Earache, 2009). Having a legendary metal label behind them gave the journeymen an overall boost and allowed for some killer tours with Sweden’s Enforcer and U.S. thrashers Municipal Waste. However, securing a full-fledged multi-album record deal means you have to be prepared to put the rest of your life on hold. Being away from home, sleeping on people’s floors and eating cheap pizza seven days week would be sure to test even the most dedicated rocker’s resolve. Indeed, much of the material on Cauldron’s catchy sophomore album Burning Fortune (Earache, 2011) covers this very topic. ’SUP caught up with Jason on the eve of the next series of looming tours to promote their imminent new album.

How are things in the Cauldron? You have a Canuck tour coming up this week right?

We have like, 12 shows in Canada spread out through the month of February. We’re just waiting for the album to come out.

You’ll be ‘Burning Fortune’ road?

Well, it’s freezing road in Canada right now.

Is it crazy cold?

Well, it’s not so bad today. It’s only 0 degrees Celsius.

When I was a kid someone Canadian told me your skin literally freezes sometimes if you go outside?

Yeah it does, frostbite can happen very easily here. It was minus 20 here a couple of days ago. And we’re only in Toronto!

Whoa, that’s seriously cold, yeah. Your guitarist Ian lives somewhere else, right?

No, he used to live in Vancouver, but he’s been in Toronto for almost five years now. Vancouver weather is much more like London.

Ah yeah, that’s right he moved to Toronto to do Cauldron.

Our drummer Chris lives in Ottawa, it’s colder there.

Does the weather have an impact or anything? My theory is that Swedes are so good at music because they have 18-hour nights to play with or whatever.

Hmm, I don’t know. I guess in the winter it has an impact because people tend to stay indoors and jam more.

Canadian metal is pretty awesome, generally. I only recently realized how amazing and heavy Slaughter are, for example.

Wow, better late than never (laughs).

Ah shit, I guess I still have some classes left at metal school.

Check out Reckless’ Heart of Steel (Heavy Metal America, 1984) and Killer Dwarfs’ Stand Tall (Maze Records, 1986). Canada has had lots of great metal bands that never really got too much exposure outside of Canada. There are lots of hidden gems.

Hmm, and I guess we could include your previous act Goat Horn in that bracket?

Sure, if you want.

I definitely will. But Cauldron is picking up nicely now?

We’re doing pretty good I guess, I’m not complaining.

The second album is great.

Thanks, we worked pretty hard on it.

I really like the development. The mix is maybe slightly more balanced, but I like how it’s still the same Cauldron sound I loved on the first one.

We just continued to concentrate on our songs and performance. We just built upon the sound we’ve already developed. We tried to make it better where possible.

One thing that’s cool about your sound is that it sounds old and raw but still fresh somehow.

We want our record to sound like a band and we want our record to have real sounds that sound like they’re being played by humans. We try not to manipulate or over-process our sound but rather just throw some mics on the band and perform to the best of our abilities. It’s a real honest, sincere process. And it’s the kind of thing that we can be fans of ourselves. A lot of records these days have the life sucked out of them and they sound no fun to us.

Amen to that! Do you feel like you have more contemporaries around now who are trying to do things the right way again? It seems to be picking up.

Well, there’s definitely more like-minded bands popping up but it’s not for me to say if they’re doing it the right way or not. As long as they’re sincere about what they’re doing. There are definitely more records that I can be a fan of today than there were five years ago.

That makes sense. Heavy music has been pretty bad in the mainstream for a long time now.

Yeah, it helps to have like-minded bands around for sure.

Ian is one of the best guitarists to watch. His playing has amazing feel.

Yes, he’s very passionate about the solos he comes up with. And he’s pretty adamant about nailing it live. He grew up on a lot of Shrapnel Shred stuff.

Your drummer Chris shreds too. He’s a cool young kid.

Yep! We’re surrounded by talent these days!

You’ve had a few changes with drummers, including the other Chris going off to Crystal Castles after you introduced him to them. Classic Spinal Tap material, I guess?

Well, he is drummer number four, but he’s held on the longest and we have no plans to part with him.

Good to hear it. You have some suitably metal allusions to witches and so on in your songs. What is your take on the increasing wave of occult/satanic bands coming through? It is style over substance or just classic metal topics?

We’ve metaphorically referred to witches, but most of our lyrics are about real-life situations we’re dealing with. We’ve had to fill out some lyrical space – more so on the first album – with some fictional lyrics, but most of it anyone can relate too. I don’t care about dark or satanic lyrics just for the sake of it. I think it should have some meaning, or go somewhere.

What does the new album title Burning Fortune refer to? Does the cover with the girl and car relate to the themes?

The cover does tie in with the title. But the title itself comes from us dedicating pretty much everything to this band. It’s sort of like we’re gambling with our futures here because if Cauldron doesn’t turn into something sustainable we could wake up 10 years from now with nothing to show for it. We could even be dead as a result of pursuing the rock ‘n’ roll dream. It’s not a safe move, we’re fucking with fire here, hence: Burning Fortune.

I thought it might have been something like that.

If you flip over the record you’ll see that we’re sitting in the back of a limo. There’s no way three guys like us should be able to afford to live like that. It’s a short-term glimpse of the big picture we’re creating.

Do you enjoy being on the road at all, though? Would you recommend the challenge to others?

You have to really have a passion for the music and lifestyle that comes with it first. It’s almost all we know at this point. We love it. It’s what we do. But it can create some struggles at home, financially, physically and emotionally.

Which feeds back into the music?

I guess, yeah. It’s all one big thing she all comes with it and it goes together.

All power to you guys, you’re some of the realest dudes I’ve met in the scene.

Thanks, much appreciated.

As recording studios go, to say that of Edwyn Collins was akin to a living room would be an understatement. It is tucked away on a leafy residential street in North London. Upon arrival, Edwyn’s wife Grace greets me warmly, then shoos away their teenage son, who is slumbering on the sofa in front of a video game. She gets to work on presenting coffee and biscuits, then proceeds to launch into a story about Edwyn’s drummer going missing in New York on their recent U.S. visit, her rapid Scottish brogue going 10 to the dozen.

Grace has quite literally been by Edwyn’s side every day since his double cerebral hemorrhage in 2005. This caused aphasia, meaning the Scottish musician had to learn how to read, write, and talk from scratch. His speech is improving by the day, his vocabulary increasing with his confidence. Grace sits in on the interview and provides respite, but Edwyn himself is engaging and sharp-witted, dismissing Grace’s occasional attempts to step in.

Edwyn’s journey from the early ’80s Glasgow post-punk scene as former Orange Juice frontman and ambassador for Postcard Records is nothing short of astounding, and his solo career is still burning bright. His seventh album, Losing Sleep (Heavenly Records, 2010) has just been released in the U.S. Songwriting was a big part of his recovery, as was the sketching of birds. Although these illustrations were recently exhibited in London, they were only ever intended as a therapy tool. In a manner befitting of our afternoon together, he and Grace send me off with a hug and a signed copy of his artwork for my parents, who profess to being original Orange Juice superfans.

You’ve just got back from the States. How was it over there?

It was pretty full on, but it was fantastic. I played New York twice and Austin something like seven times, but they all went well, like a dream.

Nine gigs in a week is impressive by any standard. Where do you get the energy?

For me it’s easy, as I just turn up on stage, but not so much for Grace as she has to do all the organizing for me and get things flowing. She works on my behalf. But I maximize my rest. Have a couple of beers, then head straight off to bed. Basically by behaving myself.

Do you need to psych yourself up for gigs?

Not really. After my stroke I played Dingwalls in London, about four years ago. I was nervous, especially playing [early Orange Juice hit], “Falling and Laughing”, but it all worked out. Since then I’ve played about 70 gigs.

You seem to have a good dynamic with your backing band. How did you find them? Presumably it was an important decision, as you can no longer play guitar yourself.

I can play a bit. My right hand doesn’t work, but my left hand still plays the chords, but only offstage. On the song “Losing Sleep” I can play piano, but again, not onstage. The band are amazing. They all put their trust in me. I’ve known them for a long time so we already have good relationships. I’ve known them for donkey’s years. I basically have a small pool of people I can work with.

I saw you play at ATP in December. You pulled a lot of your collaborators on stage, such as Alex Kapranos and Ryan Jarman. What is it about these particular new bands that make you want to work with them?

I remember that gig. I enjoyed it immensely, everyone did. Ryan came on and sang the verse for a couple of songs, while I did the chorus. Then Alex and Nick from Franz Ferdinand came on. I know Ryan from producing the Cribs’ second album The New Fellas (Wichita Recordings, 2005). The Cribs are like family. They’re always popping into the studio. Through them I met Johnny Marr and started working with him. After my stroke, I like music that is fast-moving, and that which conveys a message of hope and love and all of that shit. Those bands encapsulate that, but really it’s all very laid back and informal. They were just people who hang around the recording studio. But it was good to have them all on stage at ATP, it was a good gig. My talking was still a bit dodgy to say the least, but my singing was okay.

I have to say it was pretty moving to see you struggle with your speech but then still have such a powerful baritone singing voice.

A lot of people do get quite upset at my gigs. It’ll be the first time they’ve seen me since my stroke and it’s hard for them. For me, I’m over that stage, but the fans are clearly not so over that. They become upset.

Does it bother you that people get upset?

No, I don’t care. It’s nice to see I have such an effect and that people can appreciate what I’ve been striving for. People don’t realize how much I’ve come on. If they could have seen me in the early stages of my strokes they’d understand. Interviews are really helpful for me to develop my speech. My interview technique is now much more fluent. Grace is sitting in now, but she doesn’t really need to, whereas a couple of years ago she would have to speak on my behalf. At first I had very, very little speech. But now it’s improving all the time, as I get more confident.

You say you like fast-paced music since your stroke. This must be symbolic in some way.

Yes, I like emotional and fast songs, and want to interpret this as best I can in the finished sound. I suppose now my music is simpler in the language I use, as well as simpler chords and song structures. It works for me well enough to convey the compassion. My collaborations since my stroke definitely demonstrate this. We work with the kind of unofficial shorthand language that musicians use between one another, especially when we know each other or admire each other. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not gushy or anything, it just makes for a very easy and happy time. They all get right into my head, and say, ‘We’ll just do whatever you want, Edwyn.’

At what point in recovery did songwriting return?

A couple of days before I left hospital I came up with “Searching for the Truth” while I was in the car. I just came up with the lyric ‘I’m searching for the truth, some sweet day, now I’ll always be lucky in my life.’ It’s a simple song but to me it’s effective and direct and the message is clear. It’s about truth and hope, and after my stroke it conveys meaning for me. It was weird as I had very little speech then, and I just came up with those lyrics, then absolutely nothing for two years. Then in 2008 I actually turned my mind to being a songwriter again. I wasn’t well enough at first. I was conscious – it’s hazy to recollect – but I wasn’t very clear on things. Nowadays I’m getting there. My songs are there but my talking is not so clear. It’s a long way from the first steps of my recovery.

How did you communicate at first?

I had no problem, but Grace had difficulty understanding exactly what I meant. Sentences were impossible; it would be one word at a time. A lot of ‘oh, oh’ sounds, and Grace would have to piece together what I was trying to say. Occasionally I’d come up with a beautiful sentence that was completely out of context that just floated into my consciousness. When it came to songs I’d mostly come up with a chorus idea. Then the verses were more complicated, as structure-wise it’s more difficult to convey the meaning. Before my stroke I always wanted to show off by using flowery language and big words in my songs. But now I throw a different slant on it and use more precise language. For instance, ‘What is my role? Sometimes I’m up, sometimes I’m down.’ It’s direct.

How about reading?

It was impossible at first. I had to start from scratch. But I taught myself using Ladybird books, books for children. Then I got to a level for teenagers, so novels but with simpler language. Grace stumbled upon some specialist books with large fonts, which helped. Then I remember progressing onto George Orwell’s 1984, which I’d read before my stroke, and tackling it with great difficulty. I don’t mind that I had to start with baby books. It had to be done to get on with my life. I’m not ashamed or proud. I’ve had to be practical.

You must have felt a lot of frustration.

Yes, I did. Grace would always get cross with me as I’d start trying to read, then I’d go, ‘Stop now.’ I’d get fed up with it and Grace would nag away. I’d never feel sorry for myself, I’d just want to jack it in and watch TV. Watch shit programs like Deal or No Deal. That and David Dickinson [Ed. note: A famous British presenter who is known for his bargain hunting TV shows], and any of that rubbish. I’d watch more highbrow things like Question Time too. But it was all good fodder for my brain. It’s good therapy for me to enjoy spoken language once more. I do feel lucky with how far I’ve come. All the doctors said that the active and adventurous life I led in Orange Juice gave me a boost with my recovery as I’d experienced so much. I compare myself with Frankie Miller. He’s a Scottish singer, he supported The Eagles, really old school. He had a stroke, poor guy. And he didn’t manage to get his singing voice back. He can understand what you’re talking about, but he has very little speech. I’ve been very fortunate.

You’re very open about the whole thing. A lot of other people may feel uncomfortable talking so frankly about illness.

I don’t see why. The music business is full of glamour and celebrity, people wanting to emulate this so-called perfect life. Everybody wants to be a rock ‘n’ roll star. What’s happened to me is the opposite of that. It’s real life and it’s a struggle. This is what happens in real life. It’s nothing unusual. I don’t shy away. I say, ‘Here I am,’ warts and all. People can take it or leave it. It’s not going to stop me doing what I want to do. I want to live life again. Playing in New York and Austin is amazing to me. It just shows how far I’ve come.

How about the illustrations? At what point in your recovery did they come along?

Early on. It was only pencil drawings at first, although now I’m using color. At first I had no control over the pen when it was put in my hand. Then I kept on drawing the same cartoon guy. Every day it’d be the same thing. Then after about 60 or 70 of them Grace interrupted and said, ‘Will you draw a bird please, Edwyn?’ This was about six months after my stroke. I drew a female wigeon duck and saw the possibilities. It was very simple, just lines at first, but then after three or four drawings I could see improvement. I have drawn every single day since then, always progressing. My drawings have become very elaborate since then. It’s now a very soothing process for me and comes naturally. After a day of running around with therapy appointments, I can come home and unwind by drawing.

Why birds? Is there a meaning behind them?

I suppose it’s just because they are the animals I know most about. I remember when Grace and I had first moved in together and I’d do bits of art. I said that when I retired from music I’d like to create a collection of drawings of British birds, as a complete set has never really been done before.

What was life like in Orange Juice? I heard you’d give out a cup of OJ on the way to gigs. All sounds very quaint.

Oh yeah, we used to do that. Mind you, I think that was our guitarist James Kirk’s idea. Like arriving at a wedding when you get a glass of champagne. I stopped it, as it was too expensive. We were a very polite band. Steven Daly, our drummer, his manners were impeccable. I think the point when everything took off for me was between 1980 and 1982. I spent all my time in London and lived in the Columbia Hotel in Bayswater. All the bands at the time were staying there. I used to call it the Class of ’82. Soft Cell, Simple Minds, ABC, the Cure. Endless bands. It got to the point where it was pointless me living in Glasgow, so I moved down. I lived on Hackney Road at first, which was considerably more dodgy than it is now.

What were you like as a person back then? I think of you in your coonskin hat being really flamboyant.

(Laughs) I never had that hat off. I eventually gave it to the music journalist John Savage after he stayed with me in Maida Vale. I got it from a terribly posh shop in Edinburgh. Back then in the Orange Juice days I suppose I was quite trendy. I used to have a whistle on stage, sometimes two bells. I used to wear motorcycle trousers and bootlace ties. I got that from the Factory guys, Andy Warhol. I put an enormous amount of effort into my clothes. I had about 12 immaculate ’50s suits from charity shops. I still to this day can’t pass a charity shop. I had 35 white shirts, all from Saville Row and the like. But I ruined all my clothes. I wouldn’t wear boxers and they’d rot at the crotch. I’d carry all these suits around in a bin bag on tour. They’re long gone now.

Do you have any messages to give to people who may be going through a recovery period such as your own?

Don’t give up hope. Keep on with things and stay positive. I did therapy for a long, long time. It has to be done and you have to keep going. Another thing that kept me going is my complete lack of embarrassment. After my stroke people would stare as ask, ‘What’s wrong with him?’ But it doesn’t bother me at all. I’ve always had a sense of superiority I suppose (laughs). I think the album Losing Sleep is a milestone, to say, ‘I’ve done it. What’s next?’

Rob has been Googling himself in search of a photograph from the Supersonic Festival in Birmingham last October, an image he remembers as flattering. He finds it on Facebook, and he’s right; in it he is pictured against a white brick wall, neatly bundled in a navy pea coat and sporting a bristly black beard. He is wearing a Fruit Stripe bow tie and a tweed fedora that lacks creases or feathers, and between these are his dark eyes, gentle and grave. The discovery is perplexing, as Rob doesn’t have a Facebook account. A fan has set up a “Like” profile for Lichens but has failed to include the disclaimer that Robert A. A. Lowe, the man behind the moniker, doesn’t know the page exists; in turn, friends and devotees assume they are contacting Lichens, uploading videos, seeking his opinions and his advice, and posting pictures of him dressed fashionably in the UK.

Robert has just made a large round of the Western world, performing in Portugal, Greece, and Finland, before travelling to California to play in Los Angeles and San Francisco, after which he stopped in Chicago for a show, and then came home to New York. This is the sixth year of Lichens, an at-once improvised and delicately crafted project, combining nimble finger-picking and electric guitar with synth drone and deep, ghostly vocals. On the previous evening, Lichens performed at the opening for ’SUP contributor Jesse Hlebo’s show at Chelsea’s Printed Matter.

How did it feel performing yesterday at Jesse’s show?

I felt good about it. The set up was a little weird, being in sort of a confined space at a bookstore but sonically I felt really nice about it. The volume was there and there was a physicality to the sonic information that was happening that people could actually feel, so that was ultimately the goal and quite enjoyable for me. Working with Jesse is always fantastic. I really like his sense of things, I really like his aesthetic, and it meshes well with my own. I think generally we see eye-to-eye on the things we’re creating, and in any sort of collaborative situation I think we can really trust our intuitions to make something special.

Who else do you enjoy collaborating with or look forward to working with?

I work with Hisham Bharoocha a bit on mainly musical collaborations, which is awesome. Hisham and I have been friends for many years and have collaborated off-and-on for quite a while, living in different cities. Now that we live in the same city it’s become a little easier. It’s really nice to be able to come together and do things. And it sort of falls into place when it needs to, which is awesome. I really also enjoy collaborating with Ben Vida. He and I definitely have similar sensibilities, and have also been friends for quite a long time. I’ve only collaborated with Lee Ranaldo once but I had a really great time at the performance. We both felt very good coming out of it.

Where was that?

It was at Monkeytown, which is no longer around, which is a shame because it was a wonderful space. I kind of look forward to collaborating with whomever. I know that’s really broad but I enjoy the idea of collaboration, it really helps the sense of community, makes it stronger, and I think that’s something ultimately important.

I have to tell you, I love your vibe. Do you get that a lot?

I get that from time to time. I just try to stay mellow, and I think that carries through in my general demeanor.

Would you say that you’re a mystic?

I would not personally say that I was a mystic; I have the tendency to be drawn toward mystic things, but I wouldn’t consider myself a mystic. Maybe a journeyman.

Do you believe in ghosts?

I do believe in ghosts. I absolutely believe in ghosts. I’ve actually done a fair amount of reading on EVP, which is Electro Voice Phenomena, which is ‘ghosts in machines’. I’ve had experiences throughout the years where something inexplicable happens, and I definitely attribute that to some form of paranormal activity.

Can you tell me a ghost story?

(Rob pauses for a moment and exhales in a deep, pensive sigh.) I think the only ghost stories I have are really long-winded and are not in any way associated to anything outside of my own sphere. It would be kinda hard.

Do you have really wild, imaginative dreams?

You know, I don’t know that I have wild, imaginative dreams. I would imagine that I have more than I could recollect. Often times the dreams I remember are really jarring – physically jarring to me, and sometimes violent, sometimes night terrors, that sort of thing. I guess you could attribute that to stress. But wildly vivid dreams? I’m sure I do. I couldn’t tell you what they were.

Where do you get your jewelry?

Most of the jewelry I have I’ve had for years, stuff I collected from junk shops and flea markets. Some in resale shops, thrift stores, and then, actually, some of the pieces have been made for me by friends. There’s actually this couple that do a jewelry line called Lulu, which is really phenomenal actually, this is one of their pieces here. (He gestures to a small, golden ram head that is hanging from his neck. It’s strung by its horns so its face is directed toward the floor.) They’ve made a few pieces for me. Their pieces are really architecturally sound and delicate. They pay a lot of attention to the design of each piece, so generally each piece is one-of-a-kind.

What is your accent?

My accent?

You have a, a drawl?

Do I have a drawl?

Yeah, where is that coming from?

Well, I was born in Kansas City, in Missouri, so I would imagine that it comes from there. Although, I don’t hear it whatsoever.

It’s very, very faint. Have you bought any records recently that you really liked? Or listened to any?

There’s a record I traded from a friend of mine that is an electronic record from 1977 by a composer Jürgen Karg. I’ve had MP3s of the record for quite a while and had been looking for an original copy of the record. It’s a beautiful album, two side-long pieces utilizing four EMS VCS3 synthesizers and an EMS sequencer, and they’re gorgeous and deep pieces. They’re very three-dimensional pieces, they’re very advanced.

How many guitars do you own?

Currently I own one acoustic guitar, one electric guitar, and two electric basses. I’ve been utilizing a modular synthesizer that I’ve put together over the past several months in live performance and recording. I’ve been really into finding new patches inside of the synthesizer and working with them and recording that, sort of on the fly, and then also using it in live performances, in improvised performances, with voice. And that’s been really fun and exciting, to really jump into an instrument that I haven’t—I have some knowledge of but had, before this brief period, very little hands-on experience with. It’s been exciting to open up the floodgate to something new and present myself with a challenge.

I think that’s a really exciting move. It seems like the natural progression.

I think it’s really important to do such things. With modular synthesizers, there are so many variables that you could play with it for days upon weeks upon months upon years and not fully realize everything that it’s capable of, which is a fascinating and wonderful thing.

Why was your last album in Esperanto? [Ed. note: The album is titled Spegulo En Fazo, which translates to “Phase in the Looking Glass”.]

It was the first album I had done that was all analog synthesizer music and Esperanto is a universal language. It’s there for everyone to speak. It has elements of many different languages. It was meant to invite anyone to be able learn it and speak it and utilize it as a form of communication. The reason I decided to use it for the titles of everything on the album was the idea of the world of synthesizers as almost the same thing. They’re very musical instruments that can be very harsh or cold, and it’s all based on electricity, as are human beings. And so the idea of this cycle of giving up and receiving back this sort of intangible information, which anyone can utilize. I thought it best to use a universal language as descriptors.

Since you’re going to be home for two months, are there any shows you’re excited to go to, in any realm?

I’m really bad about going to shows, or finding out about shows, I’m not that tuned in so I always find out about shows at the last minute, like day-of, because I’m not really an outer-goer when I’m home, which is nice. I enjoy actually being in my home because I travel so much.

What is ‘At Home with Rob Lowe’?

‘At Home with Rob Lowe’ is pretty mellow, just studio work, music and art. Occasionally listening to records, watching a little television.

What kind of visual art do you make?

Drawings mainly, pen on paper.

Are you working on any drawings right now?

Not necessarily. The last thing I was working on was album art for this new Singer record that will be coming out on Drag City in the early summer. It’s a group that I play with, with Ben Vida and Adam Vida, which is sort of a pop group. I’ve been commissioned to do some artwork for another artist’s album, which I’ll start working on soon.

How long have you lived in New York?

I’ve lived in New York almost two years now, and before that I lived in Chicago for quite a long time. I would spend a lot of time in New York, working on music, doing performances, so it only made sense to move here.

Do you like Bushwick?

I like Bushwick a lot. I think Bushwick is a gem that has been unearthed and will – who knows? Who knows what the future holds?

Do you have any daily routine that involves any of the establishments in Bushwick?

I tend to get coffee most days at a cafe called Little Skip’s, which I like quite a bit. They make a good coffee.

I hope they someday put in a bar.

I think that’s the plan. I think they’re planning to.

Then it’ll be like Cheers.

Who will get to be Norm?

You could be Norm, I see you there enough.

Many years ago, in New York’s Catskill Mountains, a boy and a girl meet by chance around a campfire. Kim was there already and Jonny just taking a break from touring with his former band S.T.R.E.E.T.S. They fall in love, get married and two years later they buy five acres of land nearby. On this land is their new habitat. Set against the romantic backdrop of moody sunsets, forest wood and fresh air these two lovers, husband and wife, hole up a little two-room log cabin to create music, breathe and soak in the vibes of nature.

With Jonny’s background making heavier music (also add Iron Maiden tribute band and NYC’s Children to the list), he learned how to properly shred – not just play chords, but rip it up. This skill and precision is applied to the music he makes with Kim in Family Band, but in a much more loving way. He caresses the guitar with his sweet touch, and Kim adds her haunting vocals and stylized aesthetic on top. Miller Path was self-released last year digitally and with a limited run of exclusive vinyl, welcomed warmly with open arms by fans and friends. (Check out the insanely beautiful and fashion-now video for “Children”, for which Kim hand-made all of the costumes, in addition to art directing.) This year’s EP, Cold Songs, was self-released earlier this year and the band recently wrapped up a tour with their friends, the gals in Warpaint. Family Band are a friendly crew, and their fans are their friends. Throughout the world, these fans have helped them support themselves with no help whatsoever from any kind of music industry nonsense. Some of their fans are in bands and they go on tour together; for example, their recent U.S. tour with Los Angeles’ Warpaint. Warpaint and Family Band have a lot in common – beautiful wispy, harmonics with an ethereal pop background, a fashionable sensibility that evokes natural beauty of maybe Big Sur or the Howe Caverns in Ithaca, NY (let’s stay geographically representative). Their friendship seems obvious.

This is what happens when Warpaint and Family Band meet backstage. Everyone likes a good love story. —’SUP

Listen:

The most obvious and, I’m sure, the most frequently asked question: How is it working with your significant other?
In comparison to working with others?

Kim: The real advantage for me is being able to trust Jonny wholeheartedly, with minor and major decisions. Though we have totally varied musical approaches and tastes, our intentions with the band are aligned, and they support our long-term goals as a couple and as artists. Knowing this puts me at ease, it makes me feel like we can grow into something really cool and unknown together. It feeds the dream. Then there’s the flipside, when we get lost in the muck together, and that’s where the other band members become crucial – to help us get away from the crutches, both artistically and personally that any relationship can get you stuck in.

Jonny: I really like the idea of a ‘family band’. Before we started this project we were having a hard time balancing my touring life with our family life. Then Kim wrote this awesome batch of songs, and it became simple: make the family the band! The only bummer is it can be very hard to find time for romance on the road.

What mood do you find it easiest to write in?

Kim: I like to write in transitional times, or when something feels weird or unresolved. Unfortunately, I don’t find the epic fun times in my life to be related to artistically prolific times. One can feed the other but they don’t happen simultaneously.

Jonny: I just need time and a guitar and I will usually noodle away some new instrumental. I feel generally inspired. I am really more into a process than moments of inspiration, especially in this band. Kim usually brings me a close-to-finished song and I am, like, the workshop guy.

What are three goals you would like to achieve with Family Band in the next year?

Both: Tour Europe! Make our next full-length record! Meet more crucial people like you Warpaint ladies who believe in Family Band and can help to put it forward into the world.

This one’s for Jonny: Whassup bro? And knowing your metal – hardcore roots, how do you appropriate these patterns into the music of Family Band?

Jonny: I could actually see Family Band moving more into this direction, like me giving Kim more technical guitar parts for her to write melodies and words over. Our sound is definitely the meeting of two worlds of influences. After playing metal for 17 years I just play a guitar in a certain way and we never want to fight that. This band has been the biggest musical learning curve for me, just to be okay with quietness, not filling up every space. I am still getting used to playing on stage without a full-on attack, learning to sing without following the guitar line.
It’s super rad!

Any covers you’re itching to do?

Jonny: We used to play a mean live version of Dolly Parton’s “Little Sparrow”, but we haven’t done that in a while. We toss around ideas all the time, but it’s hard to cover a song when we usually would rather work on new material. “Nightbird” by Stevie Nicks, and “I’ll Be Here Where The Heart Is” by Kim Carnes are definitely on the list.

Who is your favorite MC/rapper?

Kim: I love listening to Eminem, because of his frenzied vocal style. Most other rappers are playing it cool 24/7 but Eminem lets you hear anxiety and desperation in his voice, which I think is pretty interesting territory in the realm of rap music.

Jonny: I am just gonna say that Ice-T’s Power was majorly influential on me as a young teen. Before I played guitar I would just try and make hip-hop on my Casio. My favorite rapper now is Shayne Ehman aka ‘KRUPS’. He lives in Toronto now, but I don’t know how you could find his music. It’s waaaay underground.

Who’s your daddy?

Kim: My dad is a truck driver in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. His eyes are even more intensely blue than mine. He used to race snowmobiles and cars. Now he ice fishes.

Jonny: My dad is a medicine man, he teaches herbalism, shamanism, Jungian therapy, Ayurveda, and is into a bunch of other super far out awesome stuff.

What activities, practices, or rituals make you feel most connected to yourself?

Kim: Tea.

Jonny: Coffee.

What is the first piece of music or movie/art that you remember stoking you?

Kim: Though there were lots of things before this that stoked me, Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation (A&M Records, 1989) made a huge impression on me. That record, plus the video with all the synchronized dancers dressed in industrial goth, that was reallllly cool. I loved the extended music video for Michael Jackson’s “Bad”, but as a role model Janet embodied the ultimate combo: so pretty and so strong. The overall “message” – fight racism and heal the world – also spoke directly to my eight-year-old heart. Dolly Parton was quite inspiring to me too. And Flashdance cannot be left out of the equation.

Jonny: The Rolling Stones were pretty major for me. “As Tears Go By” was my jam. I used to sing it so dearly when I was 10. I guess I have always liked sad songs. Also Dire Straits! When I was very young someone’s dad made us an oldies tape, like “Splish splash I was takin’ a bath” [Bobby Darrin]. I thought that was pretty rad.

What was your family life like, if you don’t mind sharing?

Kim: My family lived on a small farm in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and my sister and I were raised Lutheran. We had horses, cows, chickens, bunnies, one donkey, and lots of dogs and cats. I spent most of my time outside on the four-wheeler or playing Nintendo.

Jonny: I lived on a small island off of Vancouver, BC and basically played in the woods everyday. My parents split and I moved to Victoria, BC with my dad. My family life was and is very good but I wish I saw them more. The main thing instilled into me was find what you love, put your energy into it and the world will support you.

What is your earliest memory?

Kim: Standing with my dad in a vast gravel pit after he finished work. There was a big group of men gathered in a circle in the middle of the pit, they all had dark work pants on and it was kind of scary for some reason. I was holding onto my dad’s legs and then I looked up and it was some other guy.

Jonny: Me standing in the kitchen of the apartment I was born in, and looking into the living room. Nothing was happening but I feel like I was trying to understand the layout of our home.

What did you think about most when you were little?

Kim: I thought mostly about our cats and kittens – at one point we had 32 of them – the California Raisins, faraway places that I imagined when I listened to the Cocktail soundtrack, good snacks after school. I thought about Jesus, and spent a lot of time praying. I loved to pray when I was a kid. It was my secret magic power time.

Jonny: I thought about forts, and exploring, and adventures.

Interviewing Das Racist at a festival is kind of like dragging a bag of horny cats up a hill in a rainstorm, albeit infinitely more enjoyable. In the hour we had with Himanshu “Heems” Suri, Victor “Kool A.D.” Vazquez and hype man/indispensable extra member Ashok “Dapwell” Kondabolu, girls followed their every move, illicit substances were exchanged with random punters, fans stopped to take their photo (Heems, shying away from the cameras: “That shit steals your soul. Now when people take my picture I either cover my face or I’m on my BlackBerry.”), and I received a sort of intense phone call from their tour manager, saying they had to be on stage… right then. “Oh, is it eight?” Heems said, a bit deadpan. “Yeah, we have to go play.” “I wish we could be in a band without playing all these shows,” Dap added, grinning, but kind of serious.

Das Racist’s first official album (although both Shut Up, Dude and Sit Down, Man are full-length), Relax, will be released this fall on their own label Greedhead. The album’s artwork features the band standing in front of a burning couch (presumably the couch they’re sitting on on the cover of both mixtapes), Heems is wearing a Panda Bear T-shirt, and it’s probably going to be amazing.

Himanshu: So this is the first thing I want to say. I just bought a hamburger, and that’s a Hin-don’t. That’s fine. I eat meat, I’m a Hindu, I’m practicing or whatever, but they also used to sacrifice zebras when they were praying, so what’s the big deal about having a hamburger?

Would you eat a zebra burger?
Himanshu: Probably! Would you?

Yeah, hell yeah! I’m all about eating fucked up animals.
Himanshu: I had duck once. (Yells) Whaaaaat!

Wait, dog or duck?
Himanshu: Duck, dude!

Duck is amazing! Duck-over-rice is my favorite Chinese food.
Himanshu: I know, but I wasn’t fucking with duck growing up, man! You know what I mean? I had duck once – (Exclaims jubilantly) Wooooo!

My friend Wefald once went to this carnivore food festival, and had a kangaroo burger.
Himanshu: Where, in Somalia?

What? No—
Himanshu: In Australia, I mean?

(All laugh)

Isn’t it illegal to kill kangaroos in Australia? Like, if you hit a kangaroo with your car, you have to take its babies with you.
Himanshu: What? (To Victor and Dap) Yo!
Dan Wilton (laughing): You what? If you hit a pregnant kangaroo with your car, you have to raise its babies?
Dap: I would love to do that. But without killing the kangaroo first.

So, how’s the whole Das Racist Take Europe thing going?
Himanshu: Pretty good.
Dap: Better than last time. Definitely. Last time was boring. Swiss people are nice but very boring, and we did a lot of shows in Switzerland. Really nice venues, though.
Victor: Very pleasant and accommodating. They’d like, clap after every song, but they would just stand there like that (imitates a statue).
Dap: We’d try to fuck with them after, and they were just very confused (laughs).
Victor: They didn’t really want to joke around at all. I don’t know what they wanted, actually. It’s very hard to tell what a Swiss person wants. I guess you just have to start smacking and pinching them. If you start to pinch them a little, they start loosening up.
Dap: Yeah, they’ll just clasp their hands together (laughs).
Victor: They’re like ‘Hmmmm.’

Do you find that audiences like to joke around with you, generally?Do they ‘get it’?
Victor: Yo, Italians love to joke around.
Dap: Joke around?
Victor: Yeah, Italians fuck around!
Dap: Yeah, yeah, they do.
Victor: And they do silly dances with silly faces. I feel like I was doing a lot of the Mashed Potato, and the Twist. I was like, ‘Why am I doing this?’ (Laughs)
Dap: After a show, we got back onstage with like, 15 people, and just unabashedly danced for an hour. I was like, ‘This is stupid! What the hell am I doing?’
Victor: Then we bopped out a dude in blackface
Dap: Oh, right.

Wait, what?
Himanshu: This dude had blackface on!
Victor: Okay, so this dude showed up in blackface, one of the first dudes to show up and the show. I tapped the promoter on the shoulder like, ‘Get this dude out of here,’ and he was like, ‘Well, he’s kind of a friend…’ I was like, ‘What the fuck?! Fuck you, then! Get this fucking dude out of here!’ And then, apparently he didn’t leave, and I see him later and say, ‘Look, you either gotta wash that off or leave,’ and he was like, ‘Well, it’s a joke,’ and I go, ‘I understand that.’ Then he’s all, ‘It’s hard to wash off.’ So I was like, ‘Then leave, dude!’ (Laughs) So I walk away, assuming he was going to leave, but he didn’t. He shows up next to the stage, so a spit some beer on his face, and he gets deeply upset. Later, he finds me and throws beer at me, so I bopped him out a couple of times, and this fool (points to Dap) walks up and just (mimes punching someone several times). He bopped him about some more, actually (laughs)!
Dap: I was going to go and try to break it up, but then when I saw him I got so angry! I was like, ‘This is unacceptable!’ And then he complained to the promoter, and our tour manager had to talk to him on the phone for an hour.
Victor: How are you going to do that and then complain to the promoter. Like, ‘What, I can’t show up in blackface?’
Dap: Our tour manager, Flo, who is French, was on the phone like, ‘It’s not funny! Four hundred years of slavery!’ And we were like, ‘Flo, it’s cool.’ (Laughs) ‘You’re good, we already like you.
Victor: You don’t really need to do all that type of shit (laughs).
Dap: Then Vic got obsessed with the idea and just started punching out black people. Like, ‘One of these people has to be in blackface.’

(All laugh)

I saw you guys were at the Cannes Film Festival last week. I was curious of what your impression was of the whole ordeal, because I used to live there for a while.
Dap: So boring! It was the last day of the festival. We didn’t leave our Etap budget hotel. I just sat there on the Internet for nine hours. Literally, all I know of Cannes is the underground parking garage of the Etap hotel. But Victor and Hima said it was boring.

Yeah, that’s pretty much it.
Dap: The few blocks I walked were really boring.
Victor: A lot of luxury stuff.
Himanshu (rejoining the conversation): What am I going to yell about now?

We were talking about Cannes being boring —
Victor: And Blackface Guy.
Himanshu: Blackface Guy, I really wanted to grab him buy the neck and take him to a bathroom and wash his face. I feel like that would have been a better, more symbolic gesture than just like, duffing him out. But then I was like, ‘Oh, Victor is obviously going to duff this kid out so…’ (Laughs) Also, I had a nice suit on, and I didn’t want to fuck it up. And in Cannes, I just felt very poor, then entire time. I couldn’t get into any cool parties, where they were probably playing a song of mine. Nah, I’m just kidding. That one stupid song of ours they play at parties. Maybe some dubstep remix of “Pizza Hut/Taco Bell” (laughs). They’re like, five years late in Cannes.

Also, they don’t have a Pizza Hut or a Taco Bell.
Himanshu: Doesn’t seem to matter. We’ve been to a lot of places where people are like, ‘Okay, I guess a lot of people like this song on the Internet! I’m from… (pauses)’ Somalia? Or is it Australia? (Laughs) I always mix up Somalia and Australia!
Dap: They’re very similar. They’re right next to each other.

But so, you guys have totally disowned “Pizza Hut/Taco Bell” at this point, right?
Himanshu: Nah, we play it!

Really?
Himanshu: Yeah, fuck it. (To Dap) Are we gonna play it tonight?

Dude, the last like, 16 times I’ve seen you play you haven’t played it. I saw you at the Bell House about a year ago and you basically said you were never going to play it again.
Dap: I mean I’m fine with it, I just don’t want to do any extra work.
Himanshu: Should we do it?
Victor: (Pauses) Uh, yeah, sure, why not?
Dap: Let’s do it early in the set and get it over with.
Himanshu: We’ll change the words to ‘Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robbins’, or ‘FedEx/Kinko’s', or ‘best of times/worst of times’, and then we’re done.

I was under the impression that you had this vitriolic rage against this song you wrote as a joke and has kind of become an albatross.
Himanshu: Nah man, why would you bite the stupid song-hand that feeds you?

I guess you’re right. It would be kind of like how the Flaming Lips never do “She Don’t Use Jelly” (Ed. note: later that night, the Flaming Lips performed “She Don’t Use Jelly”).
Dap: I love that song.
Himanshu: We’ll figure out a way. You know how when MGMT would jus stop playing their instruments and just dance around and yell in microphones and stuff, and people would get angry? That’s the way to deal with that type of thing. (Pauses) We don’t play “Pizza Hut/Taco Bell” though. Mostly.

That’s what I’m saying!
Himanshu (laughing): I was just like, ‘Wait a second!’
Dap: Also, who cares? It’s not like we’re famous now or anything. We’re just over it.

There’s something that I’ve been noticing for a while, it seems like bands who have humor in their music do much better in the UK and Europe than in the U.S. I feel like in America there’s this weird mindset that you have to either be a novelty act or Bob Dylan. Like, there’s no middle ground of making good music that can also be seen as funny.
Himanshu: Well, when I used to write all the songs for Art Brut… (laughs)

But you know what I mean, right?
Himanshu: (Pauses) I dunno, man. (Laughs) I love you dude, but like…

(Laughing) Fair enough.
Himanshu: I mean, I listen to rap, ans rap is mostly funny, right? Rap is mad funny! Kanye West is a funny dude. Even if something isn’t legitimately funny, you always just be like, ‘Essentially, this dude is talking about this thing?’ and you can find humor in it.
Dap: And there were a lot of early ’90s rap groups that were incredibly funny.
Himanshu: They’re potheads, too. Potheads like making jokes.
Dap: Snoop killed it like, 20 years ago. Now he’s like, a caricature of a human being. (Laughs) He killed it, now he’s a cartoon.

Not that I’m complaining. It’s hard to keep the hairs on the back of your neck still when BSP launch into a loud-as-fuck version of “Who’s In Control?”, the scorching album opener from their new, quasi-flawless album Valhalla Dancehall (Rough Trade, 2011). In the years since their fêted debut release The Decline of British Sea Power (Rough Trade), all the way back in 2003, BSP have deftly mutated from woodland weirdos to the premiere purveyors of anthemic British rock, the anti-Kasabian, a band whose musical heft can be measured by how many grown men are yelling every lyric in unison while their eyes twinkle with nostalgia (which judging by this show, is quite a few). Keeping in line with Valhalla, the band then launch into “We Are Sound”, and its steamboat chug-a-lug propels the rest of the set dutifully onwards. Even if the band neglect to trot out oldie fan favorites like “Remember Me”, the emotional peak of the performance is brought on by “Waving Flags” lead single from British Sea Power’s Mercury Prize-nominated 2009 album Do You Like Rock Music? (Rough Trade), and I swore I actually saw people start holding hands a swaying, in a non-ironic fashion! In Williamsburg! That is the true strength of British Sea Power, and why the have survived so long as a band with no real competition: leave your hipster stylings behind, grab a taxidermied fox or something, breathe in the guitars and let loose your inner punk rock tree-hugger.