Revolt of the Apes

ZAZA

“Zaza the Day – Zaza the Night”

We remain annoyingly noncommittal in regard to whether it is better to listen to Zaza in a darkened room, with dark shades covering closed eyes, or to listen to Zaza while staring straight into the blinding glow of the sun, eyes opened wide to not miss a single shaft of light. Listen to Zaza, however – that’s the important part.

Equally happily, we present this interview with the dynamic duo of Jennifer Fraser and Danny Taylor, the two halves that comprise the inspiring, ethereal whole of Zaza.

What are your earliest musical memories? Can you recall the first music that ever moved you as a child or adolescent? What do you believe it was about that music that had an impact on you? How do you feel about that music today?

JP:My earliest rock n roll memory is my mother pulling over her little red 300ZX to show me a Stones song, to talk about the meaning of it. She liked Bowie, The Cure, The Stones, but that was popular music at the time. The impact was I could detect the raw emotion immediately; since childhood that was my greatest interest. Music today is incredibly diverse. Technology is such an overarching aspect of the creation of it currently, but it’s still about the song, the raw emotion.

For yourself personally, how did it come about that you went from being generally obsessed with music (we’re assuming here) to actively being involved in making and performing music? Who were the people who provided the support, or the much needed glimpse into another world, that ultimately helped you find the confidence to make your own music?

JP: Danny Taylor acts for me as a muse/mentor/partner and producer, however, music to me is like any other symbiotic act in my life; it just found its way inside. Anything that consumes you initially feels preternatural. When I was a teenager music was communal; it was dancing, it was skateboarding, it was swimming in the ocean, it was the way we spent our afternoons. Music was in us.

Following up on the mention of confidence, one of the many things that we find so compelling about the ZaZa sound is that the emotion of your music sometimes teeters between something like utter confidence and something like utter dread (and we mean this only as a compliment) – it may be more simply described as a fusion of darkness and light. Do you feel this duality in the music you make? Is there a single emotion that drives the lion’s share of your musical output? Can you put yourself in the “right” frame of mind to make music?

DT: I like to think that a good song interacts with the listener – for as much as it gives it also takes emotionally. Nothing is formed by absolutes – everything is a fusion of light and dark, positives and negatives. Our lives are an unwritten recipe, the amount and mix of these ingredients … and so is our songwriting – we just grab what happens to be in the cupboard and hope the dough rises.

What music have you been listening to lately? Push comes to shove, what is your favorite Beatles song of all time?

JP: We just finished wrapping up the full length, so I’ve been mostly listening to that in recording and mixing. When I’m walking around the city I’m listening to audiobooks. Stories are one of my primary loves.

I didn’t grow up on the Beatles, so I have had a recent obsession with them. It never retires. “A Day In The Life”- it’s so imperfect in its perfection, two songs put together by an orchestral interlude. They made their own rules.

How did you first hear about Austin Psych Fest? Are there any bands performing this year that you are particularly excited to see either again or for the first time?

JP: I met Christian and the Black Angels when I was playing with The Warlocks in Austin in 2005. The B.A. threw a party for us after one of our shows that, if I remember correctly, included projected footage of Led Zeppelin, opium and a sugarglider – pure class. They also happen to be tireless players and adorable people. I’m looking forward to seeing The Black Ryder and A Place To Bury Strangers. It’s just an honor to be among such fine company.

How would you describe the ZaZa approach to live performance? Is there a particular sentiment you wish to express in the area of live performance that cannot be expressed through recordings? Who are some of the most compelling performers you’ve ever had the pleasure to see live?

JP: ZAZA as a collective follows the direction of playing our songs live differently than they are recorded for a few reasons: Mainly, we think it’s interesting to project the same feeling without replicating the song exactly. Also, live we are 3 people. We have a third member named Dru, who adds an element of live drums and electronics. So we all do our best with looping and technology to create new versions of our original songs.

Are you aware or unaware of the existence of an album entitled “Za-Za,” delivered to the world by the one-time L.A. hard-rock/glam metal band known as Bulletboys?

DT: Bulletboys have a six-album catalog stretching back to 1988 … you should be asking them if they are aware of us.

We, like many others, were completely blown away by the song “Distance Creator,” which you made available as a free download in advance of your upcoming full-length album. What can you tell us about this album in general? Were there themes that you set out to explore with the album, or did its construction occur more organically?

DT: I think the album crystalizes a lot of the frustration and disappointment we’ve felt climbing the ladder since our EP was released, both with our environment and ourselves being within it. It wasn’t intended, it just started to revolve around the mood. And not to cast the tracks as puddles of tears – there is a theme of resolution of purpose driving them … but there are definitely some daggers being thrown.

In her memoir “Minor Characters: A Beat Memoir,” Joyce Johnson says the following:

“The sixties were never quite my time. They seemed anti-climatic, for all their fireworks. Some culmination had been short-circuited. I saw hippies replace beatniks, sociologists replace poets, the empty canvas replace the Kline. Unenthusiastically, I observed the emergence of ‘lifestyle.’ The old intensities were blanding out into ‘Do your own thing’ – the commandment of a freedom excised from struggle. Ecstasy had become chemical, forgetfulness could be had by prescription.”

Your thoughts? What type of “blanding out” have you observed, if any, that troubles you?

DT: I dislike the tendency for generations to grow misty-eyed in reminiscence of some “golden time” that has been lost – as if the past was more valid and true than the present, the future holding nothing but increasing oblivion – front porch rocking chair talk … Draw from the the failures and triumphs of the past and build the future in the present. What other individuals have done, are doing and will do is what’s important – “scenes” and “movements” are what’s bland – infernos looking for fuel till they run out and all you’re left with is ash.

What’s next for ZaZa?

DT: Hopefully give something, whether live or on record, that sticks with people, no matter how many. That’s all we want – to stick.

Zaza

There is a word to describe an artist like Damien Youth. Unfortunately, we don’t know what that word is – though we’re willing to bet Mr. Youth does.

Searching our vocabulary to describe to vibe, the oeuvre, the je ne sais quoi – or even the “I ain’t know whuuut” – of Mr. Youth leads us no closer to said word. Rather, it only illuminates how under illuminating a single word can be. Literate? Macabre? Irregular? We would be comfortable applying any of those words to the music made by Damien Youth, so long as you are comfortable knowing that each word describes approximately three percent of the full story.

Words that we might ordinarily use to describe a singer-songwriter (and we’re not sure even that descriptor is quite right for Mr. Youth – “troubadour,” “minstrel” or “elect of himself, wizard of loneliness” could all be better fits) fail us in this arena. Lilting? Mellow? Good background music for dinner party chatter? Hardly. It takes less than a minute – less than a full verse – of his latest album, “The Citizen” to realize this.

“We are not citizens here, we don’t belong.
But we have always been here, this cage of bone.
Spirit glow through sprinkling flow of atoms,
a hollow hold of holy ghosts in mantra.
Spirit glow through sprinkling flow of atoms,
hollow hold of holy ghosts in mantra.”

– Damien Youth, “The Citizen”

Listen: For my money, Damien Youth succeeds in bridging the yawning musical canyon between “My Little Red Book” and My Dying Bride. Gothic psyche-haunted folk? Sure. I’ll have some of that. And for my money and your money, you can get the full-length album, “The Citizen,” from Damien Youth, and check out his other stuff, too.

Download “A Pauper’s Shrine” by Damien Youth, from the album, “The Citizen”

Listening to “The Citizen” makes this listener reflect on youth (and Youth, of course), especially as the chill in the morning air gives way to early glimpses of the sweltering Virginia summer to come. “The Citizen” is an album for autumn and winter, for cold temperatures and colder thoughts, and if there’s any disappointment in listening to this wonderful, wondrous, world-weary, word-heavy collection of songs, it stems only from the realization I didn’t have it on my radar during this past, trying winter.

Few artists, to these ears, express the ability to, yes, understand the appeal of whatever caused the youth of the past to wear paisley button-downs, have too much to dream and set their alarm clocks to strawberry – and in addition to that, apply that appeal to something more, something personal, something to share beyond the quarantine of genre. Damien Youth does that. It can’t be easy. Was he born too late? Was I? Were you?

Time marches on. We don’t belong, but there’s still time. Time for me and time for you, a hundred indecisions, visions and revisions, time for Klaus Schulze box sets, and books and bad decisions, and joy waiting for us. Or something. Let’s go.

“A man’s age is something impressive, it sums up his life: maturity reached slowly and against many obstacles, illnesses cured, griefs and despairs overcome, and unconscious risks taken; maturity formed through so many desires, hopes, regrets, forgotten things, loves.  A man’s age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories.”  ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wartime Writings 1939-1944

THE DIAMOND CENTER

“I’ll Be Damned – Here Comes Your Ghost Again”

The Diamond Center is a band that claims to be from from Richmond, Virginia, Georgia, Texas, Earth – we suspect more supernatural origins. How else to explain their other-worldly sound? Their rapid ascent from open mic night hootenanny’s to expertly executed live performances filled with shamanistic sturm und drang? Their ability to write and perform music that sounds and feels like it has lived before, like it is returning to haunt the living, like it is taking care of unfinished business?

It’s no exaggeration to say that The Diamond Center – whoever they really are – stand for many as one of the great musical discoveries of the past year. Their relatively short existence has been a highly productive thus far and with the impending release of two new seven-inch recordings (including this release on the Richmond label, Some Day This Will All Make Sense) and an appearance at Austin Psych Fest 4 , there seems to be no sign of these ghosts dissipating in the near future.

For that, Revolt of the Apes is extremely happy, just as we are pleased to present this extended chat with the center of The Diamond Center, Brandi Price and Kyle Harris.

“Psychoanalysis has taught that the dead — a dead parent, for example — can be more alive for us, more powerful, more scary, than the living. It is the question of ghosts.” – Jacques Derrida

I want to start with talking about where both of you come from, because I know both of you from here in Richmond, but neither of you are from Richmond, and The Diamond Center has only been in Richmond for a short period of time. So let’s talk a little about your backgrounds …

BP: Well, my name in Brandi Price and I’m from Texas – Texas blood, through and through. I grew up in Central Texas and I was born in Dallas. I grew up in a little town outside of Ft. Worth and lived in that area all my life, until I grew up and went to college in West Texas. I started playing music, started playing in bands – well, piano first …

Like, piano lessons and stuff? Or just messing around …

BP: No, I took some lessons from a lady at my church.

So at that time, at that age, taking piano lessons – what music were you listening to at the time?

BP: We had a rule in my house: You could listen to the religious station, or your could listen to the oldies station – you know, because the oldies station represented a time when things were still pure, still clean, safe. So I ended up listening a lot to the oldies station.

And when did you first start playing with what you would call a band?

BP: It actually wasn’t until after college, when I moved to Athens, Georgia, when I was, I guess, 23.

And all through college, you never played in bands?

BP: No, not at all. I started kind of playing guitar when I was in high school, but it wasn’t really … something my parents wanted me to be doing. They would have liked to see me playing other music, classical music, symphony stuff. So then when I got it college I just kind of let it fall to the side and didn’t really play in college. And then it wasn’t until after college, when I had some friends who were musicians who wanted to play and record, so …

Was being in a band something that you had given consideration to, or was it not something you gravitated to until being asked directly?

BP: I don’t know – what do you mean by that?

I mean, was being in a band something that you longed for, something you yearned to do …

BP: Oh, yeah, yes. Definitely. I guess for some reason I still thought it wasn’t even possible, do you know what I mean? I always felt that being in a band was something that other people did and I was just … Brandi Price from Texas (laughter). But I’ve always had a huge appreciation for music, listening to music, watching music, music being the driving force behind almost everything in my life.

How about you, Kyle?

KH: Well, I’m originally from Georgia. I actually was born in a small town called Dallas, Georgia.

You guys have a Lincoln/Kennedy thing.

KH: Exactly. It was a very, very small town, although actually now, it’s full of Targets and Hooters and whatnot. But I was pretty much obsessed with music and obsessed with rock and roll as long as I can remember, since I was real young. All of my early memories are of listening to my mom’s records. And my mom – she wasn’t necessarily always into the cool bands, but she was really into whatever she was into, you know? She was really into Southern Rock, and being not too far from Atlanta in the mid-seventies, she would see Skynyrd all the time, The Allman Brothers, whoever was coming through. Vanilla Fudge … she saw Janis Joplin at Georgia Tech, y’know.

Do you have memories of her going out to see live bands? Like, “Mom won’t be home tonight – she going to see …”

KH: Yeah, yeah, like, Leon Russell and Bob Seger or whoever, definitely. The story I got was that I was in-uterus when she went to see The Who in ’75, so I’ve technically been in the same room as Keith Moon [laughter]. But, yeah, my memories are definitely coming from my mom’s records, taking them, looking at them, cleaning them, listening to them, you know, sitting on the floor, giant headphones, curly cord.

What was at, say, age seven or eight, the band you remember thinking, “OK, they’re definitely my favorite”?

KH: Probably Styx. You know, that “Killroy” record was perfect for a kid, because it was robotic and weird. And the first record I can remember asking for specifically was “Thriller,” which I think was ’82, so I was, what, six? So I had my own little record collection was my “Muppet Movie” record, and my “Star Wars” record, and “Thriller,” and Culture Club’s “Color By Numbers,” and, I don’t know, Georgia Satellites …

That album is actually issued to everyone in Georgia, right?

KH: Yeah, once you cross state lines, they give you one. So then I started getting into guitar, and I got into Kiss, then I got obsessed with AC/DC, then I got obsessed with The Doors, or whoever. But always obsessed with playing. You know, I was the one where my brother would catch me playing air guitar with the broom, broom guitar or whatever when I was supposed to be cleaning the kitchen. But always had tapes, always had records. So then, I guess, it wasn’t until high school when I … I don’t know, I guess I never really conceptualized that I could actually be in a band, that I could actually get a guitar and get out there and do it. And then in high school, I came across these guys who were, you know, jamming “Sunshine of Your Love” in someone’s garage. So I asked my mom for a bass for Christmas, and we knew someone who was selling one, so I got a Peavey amp and a Peavey bass, and pretty much took right to it. It didn’t take long. And then I … I pretty much played bass exclusively from, like, ’93 to 2007, I guess.

Really? A bass player?

KH: Yeah, yeah. I love bass.

BP: Kyle’s a killer bass player.

Weird.

KH: Yeah.

That’s so weird. But when you say that you took to it right away, did you feel like you had musical aptitude, or was it more a matter of saying, “OK, I’ve been listening to enough music that I know it’s supposed to sound or feel something like this”?

KH: Both, both. I mean, I can remember started in like ’93 and I was listening to … I mean, I wasn’t Mr. Punk Rock or anything, but I was listening to Sonic Youth and Dinosaur Jr. and Husker Du and whatever else around that time, you know, Sugar – all those bands.

So the area of Georgia you were in, how far away was that from the closest musical scene that would be conducive to your involvement?

KH: Atlanta was the closest, and that would have been about an hour away. Atlanta had a great radio station that we used to listen to, 88.1, WRAS – that’s Georgia State, and that was my savior during high school, that’s what introduced me to so much music. So, by high school we would play our little garage shows, and play at the community center and beg for four dollars because nobody showed up, y’know? So I just started playing in bands. I went to college for a minute and then got out of that quick. I took a break from music for a little bit, just to experience some other things and, I guess, expand my mind a bit. Then I just joined another band out of the blue, joined a power-pop band, playing The Who and Cheap Trick songs and that was great. Played in that band for a bit, played in some other bands, got married, got divorced, and then I met Brandi and we started writing together in ’07, I guess.

So you guys met in Georgia?

KH: Yeah.

BP: In Athens, yes.

And how long had you both been there?

KH: Uh, I moved there in 2000 or 2001, so I had been there for a few years.

BP: I moved there – I guess I had been there about a year before I met Kyle. And I the way we originally met, we ended up playing in a band together. He was playing in another band, and I asked him to come play with my band. At the time, I was playing bass and Kyle was, like, my bass mentor. I love watching Kyle play bass, he’s a great bass player.

That’s so weird to me, because one of the things I wrote down was to ask Kyle about his guitar playing. And I was a little nervous about it because I couldn’t think of a way to say it without sounding odd … but I think Kyle’s guitar playing is odd. But now that I know you started as a bass player, it’s making a little more sense to me. But I think you just have … and odd guitar style!

KH: I like that.

It’s not … I don’t know. It’s not really riff-y, but it’s not … I don’t know, there just seem to be a lot of strange notes in there. Do you think your guitar style is different because you played bass for so long?

KH: I think it comes from playing bass for so long. I don’t think from the perspective of the guitar, really. I think about everything rhythmically and from the perspective of the bass. It’s not intentional, but …

But it’s the way you’re oriented.

KH: Mmm-hmm. It’s more about feeling things out and just … I mean, well, first of all, I never really wanted to, like, you know, play the blues or solo like crazy or whatever. I mean, I do some noodling around or whatever, but it’s almost like … I don’t really want to learn anymore, y’know? I feel like if I learn more …

It might interfere with that process of feeling things out?

KH: Yeah.

So then, does that make it difficult for you to find the right bass player?

KH: Very much, yeah. Luckily, with Will, I mean … well, you know Will.

Will is awesome. And this is still so weird to me, because when I watch you guys live, I find myself thinking, “Goddamn, this bass is fucking crazy!” The bass really feels like it’s at the center of everything. And what I don’t mean to sound so odd, is that when your guitar comes in sometimes, it just doesn’t sound like what you might expect the guitar to sound like.

KH: Yeah, I really do try to keep the bass … I mean, when I play bass, I play kinda note-y and all over the place, but with this band, with Will, I really like him to kind of hang on these single notes and just pound, pound, pound that single note. And I think it kinda grounds it. And then with our guitars coming in, with Brandi’s guitar and my guitar … but it really is a conscious thing to keep it centered on the bass and drums.

So you guys meet, you’re playing in different bands, you’re playing in the same band – and what point does it become, “OK, we definitely need to do something, just you and I”?

BP: I guess it was when the band we were playing in together just kind of dissipated, rapidly. And we were both kind of not doing anything, and we were both going through some separation and divorce issues, and I – I was basically in the middle of some really crazy shit. And Kyle was the one there saying, “Why don’t you just write and play music? That’s what you really want to do.” And that was really helpful, because without his input at that point, I really don’t know where I would have been. But it was really cool, because we had both been playing bass for awhile and then we started writing and kind of arranging these other songs. And when it got to the point where we started thinking about playing these songs out live, I was like, “I want to play guitar,” and Kyle was like, “I want to play guitar.” So we both did! The first playing out of The Diamond Center was just me and Kyle playing guitar.

Just two guitars and two voices?

BP: Yeah. And I think that was a really important step for both of us, at least as far as taking authorship and ownership of these ideas.

Was that a reaction to being in bands that fall apart and ultimately thinking, “What in the hell am I doing? Do I have my own ideas here or what?”

BP: Yeah, probably. And I think it’s also about being someone else supporter, and just always being there as support. And at that time, we were thinking, “You know what? I’ve got some ideas, I can do some things, let’s do this.”

KH: And it fell together really quickly. We started in early January of 2007 and played out first show after about a month, recruited some friends to play with us, and ended up recording a full-length in May of 2007. We did a couple of little weekend runs to North Carolina or whatever, started doing just a little bit of touring. Then at some point, we just decided we need a change, you know, get out of this small town. And I had never lived anywhere except for Georgia, but Brandi still had connections in Texas, in Lubbock, Texas, where she had done her undergrad, and she had a job waiting there for her if she wanted it.

BP: And my family was still there, my sister and brother.

KH: Yeah, so we just said, “The hell with it – let’s move to the scrub desert, to the flatlands.” And it was the best thing that ever could have happened.

Why so?

KH: Well, not only was it a total fresh start, clean slate, but we were also allowed to consolidate our relationship without any outside influences, any friends or whatever.

BP: We went from Athens, Georgia, where it’s incredibly social and we had a lot of friends and were doing a lot of things, to just kind of, being cut off from anything. There weren’t bars that we could just walk down to and see ten friends. We were just …

Your options become limited to each other.

BP: Definitely. And to writing. And that’s where we just did a huge amount of writing, there in Lubbock, because there really wasn’t much else vying for our attention. So we would just sit down and write.

KH: We quickly met people, though. We started playing out, we played like a little open-mic , and then started getting asked to play out more. And the great thing about moving to Lubbock – it’s such a weird place. I mean, in many ways it is stuck in the 50s, but there is a college there – Texas Tech – so there are young people around. It’s a really strange mix. And plus to me, it was really a total change in scenery, to go from the hills and pine trees of Georgia to this place that’s just totally flat, no water and totally flat. It was a big change – it really shook us up.

So when you started writing songs out there, what was the difference?

BP: I think one of the biggest differences for me was … I’m a big believer in the idea that everything you go through, everything you pass through, is an inspiration to the music whether you notice it or not. And I think especially the songs we started writing when we got there were really a reflection of that environment and the big sky, and that feeling of being in that space. That soaked in really fast and really changed what we were doing. I feel like when I listen to the first album we recorded in Georgia, it still feels very Southern to me. I can picture the trees and the kudzu, and the humidity and everything, y’know?

No, that makes total sense, especially having heard recordings from both periods. Kyle, did you feel that way, too?

KH: Oh, absolutely, yeah. It changed everything. I don’t know, there’s just something about it. It wasn’t conscious. We didn’t set out and say, “OK, we’re going to move to the desert and write these desert songs.” It just happened.

BP: My parents still live in Ft. Worth, which is about five hours from Lubbock, and the drives we would take to get there take you through just some of the most beautiful parts of West Texas, if there is such a thing. The plateaus, the desert, it’s just so open and you really can see the landscape change. Just the experience of moving through that environment, where there would be these storms, rain storms and dust storms, and you could see them for miles and miles while you’re driving, and then the stars in the sky at nighttime … I think about that drive all the time. And I think the music sounds like that, in the songs.

So this is all a very quick evolution, from meeting, deciding to do something, recording something, taking in a complete change, at least from the perspective of your environment, and then, what? About a year later you come to Richmond? How did that come about? Just looking for a graduate school?

BP: Yeah.

KH: The think about Lubbock is that it’s still basically a small town and it’s easy to get stuck there. We liked it there, but even when we were there, we were traveling, trying to tour a little, made a few trips over to California, trying to go wherever we could in Texas, travelling over to Austin, over to Denton, Dallas, over to Santé Fe, wherever. So we started to consider going somewhere new, and Brandi was thinking about going to grad school so we thought, “OK, that’s our way to get somewhere far away, that’s our reason to move.”

BP: I had gone to school in Lubbock, at Texas Tech, to I had lived there for seven years before moving to Athens and then moving back to Lubbock. So I was looking for that stimulation thing, of going somewhere new and just experiencing a new environment. And aside from Athens, which is way different, I had never really been on the East Coast, and it’s just a different perspective on things, the trees, the humidity, I don’t know. I think Kyle felt the same way, because Lubbock was already familiar to me. You know, I had a past there, and Kyle had a past in Georgia, and then we both had a past there, so we just wanted to find a place that was just new and different, for both of us, together.

KH: Yeah, it was definitely a fresh start. We had no ties here at all.

Was that a consideration at all, or was choosing the graduate school based solely on academics?

BP: Academics.

Exclusively?

BP: Pretty much. I know I wanted to go to grad school and I started the application process and I was like, “I’m going to apply everywhere! The best schools!” and then it’s, like, seventy dollars every time you submit an application. So I thought, “Maybe I’ll just apply to one out-of-state school,” you know what I mean? So then I applied to three Texas schools and then said, “OK, what’s the best school in the country for what I want to do, that’s a public school, that I can actually afford?” and that was VCU [Virginia Commonwealth University]. So we thought, “Hey that’s sounds cool.” So I got in and we said, “Hey, let’s move to Richmond.”

So what do you think, now that you’ve been here … what? Just over a year?

BP: Almost two years.

Oh. Yeah, it’s 2011, right?

BP: Right.

I’ll make note of that. But in those two years, how do you see your music changing? Is Richmond changing the music the same way it did when you moved to Texas? Or are you still dwelling in that Texas spirit?

KH: I think both, actually. Texas gave us this great foundation, and this basic idea of what we wanted our sound to be, but as far as the actual songwriting, yeah, it’s different. I don’t know if it’s just the heavy ghosts of Richmond, or … I was saying to someone after we moved here, I’m surprised by Richmond, because I think I’ve always had a lot of supernatural experiences, or at least been sensitive to supernatural things …

BP: He sees ghosts.

KH: I have a lot of recurring dreams, I see things and I didn’t feel as much of that when I moved to Richmond. And what she said was, “Maybe the ghosts are too thick in Richmond.” Like, it’s so old, there’s too many layers.

That’s actually a way some people describe Richmond, even people from Richmond – that it’s a city that’s just weighed down by old ghosts, old stuff, awful thinking and the awful things that happened here. It’s like a catacomb.

KH: Yeah, yeah. But all that being said, we’ve written some songs. We probably have enough for another album, but we’re intentionally doing these singles first. But to some degree, I guess because Brandi has been so tied up with school stuff, we haven’t done as much sitting down to write. I mean, we have written …

BP: Yeah, we’ve written, but I guess there hasn’t been as much conscious writing, I suppose. We’re more likely to just come up with something, but we haven’t had as much time to sit down and write. But that’s OK when it happens subconsciously, y’know? You can’t always plan it.

KH: But the sound is still there.

Standard question, but what type of stuff have you been listening to lately?

BP: My go-to stuff recently, for working or doing whatever, has been, like, Galaxie 500 and stuff like that. I don’t know. I guess the first six months or year that we were here, our turntable was broken, or the receiver was broken, actually, and then we got a new one off of Craigslist, and that was right around the time that Steady Sounds opened up, which was cool. There’s nothing worse than that feeling of having records but not being able to listen to them.

If you would have told me even three or four years ago that in 2011, there would be four good record stores in the city of Richmond, I would have told you that you’re out of your mind. I would have said there might be one – that there might be one.

BP: Yeah, well, it’s so cool to have access to so much cool music. I guess lately we’ve both been listening to a lot of psychedelic stuff. I don’t know. We went to ATP last year and when we saw White Hills, that was just, like … we were both, like, “Wow!”

KH: Yeah, that was like … that was … I mean, for our sound … Like, our first album sounds like a record store threw-up. Every song sounds different, y’know?

You could put a sticker on that album – “It sounds like a record store threw-up!”

KH: Yeah, yeah. I mean, the second one is a little more cohesive, not necessarily because the songs are that different, but the sound, I guess, overall is more cohesive. But I’ve always been a sound guy, I like just ridiculous amounts of … sounds, I don’t know. So going to ATP and seeing a lot of these bands live, bands that we had heard but not seen – bands like Bardo Pond were amazing, The Black Angels, who I’d seen before, but still … and like White Hills and even Kurt Vile. It was great. And then along with the, uhhh … extra-curricular activities that were going on, y’know? That helped the situation. But I came out of there, we both came out of there with our eyes wide open, like had been washed in the blood of the sound, y’know?

BP: Plus seeing what all the bands were doing visually, too. Like, every band had projections, but their own interpretation on what they were doing, visually – it was the coolest thing. And I liked so many of the bands, but man, the coolest thing? Seeing Sunn O))) and Boris do “Altar”? That was just … intense. It felt like you were being dragged somewhere to be buried or something. And lots and lots of fog.

KH: Yeah, that definitely, like, solidified what we were doing. I mean, I don’t know if there was every something like a direction for the band. We call it “psych-folk” because we write these songs on acoustics and then do whatever we do to them, so that works. But seeing ATP really made it clear to us what we needed to do for our live show, just really kind of amplify everything, like everything has to go up. Not just volume, but intensity, you know?

The last time I saw you guys play, in Charlottesville, afterwards I said to you, “When the hell did you guys become the world’s best krautrock band?” But it’s not … it’s hard to explain. I mean, go back to White Hills – how the hell can you even explain White Hills?

KH: Right, right.

So I don’t think “psych-folk” quite explains it.

KH: No, it doesn’t. I guess it’s good and it’s bad …

I don’t think it’s bad, it’s just incomplete.

KH: But as far people saying, “OK, what does your band sound like?” And we can say, “Well, you can put us with all of these different kind of bands.” But it’s different, our sound. And it’s not intentional, but it’s not unintentional either. Like, I have this steady diet of bands that I listen to and if I were to name them, you could say, “Yep, I hear that, yeah, that part sounds like that,” y’know? I mean, one of my favorite bands of all time is The Rock*A*Teens from Georgia. They have this weird, kind of heavy reverb thing that I guess now is kind of fashionable, but they were doing that stuff years and years ago. That band has definitely been a huge inspiration. And like, The Black Angels stuff, the new record is just …

Incredible.

KH: It just kills me. And I really like the new – well, I liked the one before, too – but the new Deerhunter album is just amazing. It so dreamy, so weird. But there are some others that are always in the mix, like Neil Young, I’m always listening to Neil Young.

BP: The Velvet Underground.

KH: Definitely. One of my more recent obsessions, and I actually got the record awhile ago and just sort of sat on it for awhile, but, man, Wooden Shijps, and then later Moon Duo. It’s just so …

It’s so good!

KH: It’s so good, and I was thinking about it, and what they do, to me, is they mix, like, Faust and Suicide and put them together.

It’s so dense, right? It’s like two rocks being smashed together and no air in it. It’s awesome.

KH: I dig that. So that band has been huge for me, not that I really want to sound like that, but just listening to it … man. Another band that has been a heavy-hitter for me in the last month or so is Sleepy Sun.

BP: They were another band that, when we saw them at ATP, we were just like … you know, at ATP there’s so much going on and so many bands playing, but when Sleepy Sun played, I was just, like, “I can’t move, I have to stay right here.”

So, have you guys been called The Diamond Center from the very beginning, like from the first show?

KH: Yeah.

So what does The Diamond Center mean to you?

KH: I guess I like that it has some duality to it, depending on where you put the accent. It can be The Diamond Center or The Diamond Center. But where it comes from is I was working in Athens at this picture frame shop and in the same shopping center there was this store called The Diamond Center. And so I’d be sitting there on my lunch break, eating my sandwich or whatever, and one day, I was just, like, “Wow! The Diamond Center or The Diamond Center. That would be a good band name.” And I always kept it in the back of my mind. And a few years later …

BP: Plus, he’s also obsessed with bling.

Oh, I know. It’s embarrassing.

BP: The diamond tooth, the diamond earrings …

It’s what’s holding you back from huge indie-rock success: too much bling.

KH: I like the name. It’s vague, but it’s also focused. And it’s just … I don’t know. Band names are always just so dumb. It’s a dumb thing. I have noticed lately there are a lot of bands with the word “diamond” in their name.

Like Neil Diamond?

KH: We came before him.

Diamond Head?

KH: Before.

Wow.

KH: And then the other problem is that when you go to look for the band online, you have to Google “The Diamond Center band,” otherwise you get a bunch of jewelry stores and whatever. But that’s alright.

I want to end with a quote from Kurt Vonnegut. I’m going to read this quote and then I’d just like to hear your reaction. The quote is: ““I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can’t see from the center.”

KH: That’s great. I love that. You know, that relates to something that we always talk about when it comes to the band, especially when it comes to playing live. There are a lot of bands that are really good and really good players, but for me, for rock and roll, there has to be risk. It has to be there. Roger Daltrey has a quote – “Give me a bum note and a bead of sweat any day.” And that’s what it’s about, y’know? And I’m not talking like I’m going to be Iggy Pop and roll around on broken glass or cut my chest open, but that was his edge, y’know? But to take it to that point where you feel like it cannot go any further – and then push it a little further. That’s what I like. That’s what it’s about for us.

The Diamond Center

“Damn These Shackles of Gravity!” is the title of the latest release from Portland’s DATURA BLUES – if we are counting correctly, their eleventy-hundredth release overall – and we are inclined to praise the strange, calming chaos of captivating inner-space rock contained within its two songs, alongside the sentiment expressed by the title.

If we define the “shackles of gravity” as all of the things that hold us back, that prevent us from reaching further, prevent us from extended exploration, the constraints – physical and mental – we both submit to and fall prey to, the triumph of the regressive, the dogma that weighs us down like so much ninety-eight-pound weaklings wearing million-pound Vans while attempting to traverse the face of Jupiter … then, yes, damn these shackles of gravity, indeed.

But then … gravity can be something more – something positive. Something that gives us the opportunity to stand upright. Something that keeps us close to the center of where we belong. In the words of writer, aviator and legendary psych-rock fan “Awesome” Antoine de Saint-Exupery “You could not liberate a stone if there were no law of gravity – for where will the stone go, once it is quarried?”

Download “The Draft Dodgin’ Cowboy – Buffaloydian Slip – Djrungle Djram” by Datura Blues

Listen: Something has kept us from orbiting too closely around Datura Blues – whose legacy of music and revolving membership and lack of gravity extends back to 1999 – until very recently. Now we are happily shackled to their shape-shifting soundscapes, and not to undermine the gravity of the situation, we have a lot of catching up to do. “Damn These Shackles of Gravity!” – soon to be released as a limited edition 7″ on marbled color vinyl – is a good place to start.

In the first thirty or so seconds, Datura Blues take us from calm waters to antsy synth stabs, after which their ambition is applauded by an imaginary audience, marking the core of their sound: the organic crest and crash of miniature waves of song, within an endless ocean of sonic possibility. It sounds something like the secular hymns of an alien race determined to outrun the gravity and ordinary expectations of their home planet in order to set up shop near Portland, Oregon, Earth, collect Guru Guru bootlegs and smuggle out schematics from the U.S. Air Force’s Special Projects Office, all in the service of providing you and I and The Apes with epic songs to listen to with the volume loud, the eyes closed. There’s also the occasional saxophone and wordless vocals. Shackling up and damning the past comes highly recommended.

“A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.” – Antoine de Saint Exupéry, “Flight to Arras“

CLOUDLAND CANYON

“Well On His Way, Head in a Cloud(land Canyon)”

Cloudland Canyon is a place where sound, song and sonic subterfuge stack atop each other much the same way as do the past, present and future – a persistent illusion. Listening to their most recent album – their third full-length overall, entitled “Fin Eaves” – is an invitation to get lost in a strange landscape, a landscape offering a thousand paths to move you from point A to point B, yet none of the paths are marked. It’s an ambitious, beautiful album and one we don’t hesitate to declare perfect.

Guitarist and cloud-man Kip Ulhorn was kind enough to give us a guided tour of the persistent illusion supplied by Cloudland Canyon.

One the more useless things one can know about clouds is regarding their make up of frozen ice crystals and masses of water – a bit away from our childish fantasy of reclining on the soft, floating island. In this way, the music of Cloudland Canyon can be similarly deceptive. Listened to at low volume and with low attention, the music has a subtle, drifting quality. A louder and closer listen reveals the music to be extraordinarily harsh. Would you agree?

Sort of. It’s actually funny that you mention this, mainly because “Fin Eaves” is supposed to be almost a paradox. First of all, it is mixed so that there is a different mix coming out of each side of the stereo spectrum. It’s like having two separate (but complete) mono mixes on either channel. Hopefully, this means that you hear something different each time, if you want to, according to how you choose to pan it. A long time ago, I went to La Monte Young’s “Dream House,” in lower Manhattan, which is a permanent installation. I guess the idea partially is that depending on where you sit in the room, you hear a different harmonic variation of the same drone … meaning that the listener is both listener and the performer. The mix of “Fin Eaves” could be heard a million different ways. Also, the other part of this is that while we were recording this, Kelly or I would actively listen to playback through the studio wall, on the outside. Our goal, I think, was to be able to hear only a drone (for lack of a better term) through the wall, but then listening close up unveiled pop songs. So basically the music could function either way. In short, that shit was hard to do. It took me every single day of two years.

Is a balance between the harsh and soothing something you have consciously looked to explore with Cloudland Canyon? What are the elements of “soft” music that appeal to you most directly? And harsh?

Honestly, no … not specifically. Even though in the question before this it seems like everything is over analyzed/scrutinized etc., I actually usually try to work by intuition as much as possible. I have very little classical training so I try and let things be as fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-ish as possible. I think I really learned a lesson, when I majored in photography in college but found that after 4 years of critical analysis, I had zero interest in that particular medium. I think it scares me to not let things develop naturally, subsequently.

I’ve no problem whatsoever calling your latest album, “Fin Eaves,” perfect – and if certain listener’s mileage may vary, they would at least have to concede to its consistency of vision. “Fin Eaves” plays not as a random collection of weird sounds, but as an album proper – indeed, a very deliberate collection of weird sounds. Did you have an overall goal in constructing “Fin Eaves” – anything close to a mission statement? How has your opinion of the album changed since it’s recording, or since its release?

Man … thanks! Honestly, if I could choose a way for it to be described … I definitely feel like you have come pretty close. As crazy as it sounds, though … I completely agree with you. It’s exactly what I wanted it to be, and I actually think it would be impossible for me to feel otherwise. I just lived those songs for so long, not to mention writing almost 60 songs for that record. However, in the interest of not sounding like a complete asshole, I think that if someone knows exactly how something is supposed to sound going in, and you decide that you won’t quit until every single note is exactly how you intended, then how could it not be? I mean, if you spend long enough on something … how could it not be? It’s almost more a product of functionality or cause and effect than talent, skill or anything like that. I just committed to it.

How did you first hear about Austin Psych Fest? Are there any bands you are particularly excited about sharing the stage with? Is there any value at all in seeking to define what “psych” music is? Should it be anything? Can it be everything?

Actually, I didn’t know anything about it until this year. However, The Black Angels are amazing! Totally exited to see them. Pretty much every band playing is amazing. Crystal Stilts, Black Moth Super Rainbow, Spectrum, Beaches, Pontiak (who we are touring down there with), White Hills … the lineup is amazing!

What music have you been listening to lately?

Ommm … La Big Vic, Future Shuttle, Pink Priest, a lot of DFA stuff – Gavin Russom related things in particular, Electric Sunset, the new Belong record, called “Common Era.” I saw Rene Hell not too long ago … amazing. “Get in the Van” by Henry Rollins – book on tape, the first Stereolab, new Sun City Girls … anything that involves a 303 or 808, I am obsessed with.

Legend has it that Ash Ra Tempel got their start only after buying Pink Floyd’s PA in London. If it were as easy as laying down a few dollars, what band or artist’s sound would you purchase as your own … on the condition that no one would be any the wiser about the transaction?

I guess I’ll just go with Ash Ra Temple … 70’s era.

One song that has been a focal point for our “Fin Eaves” obsession is “Pinklike,” which to these ears sounds like an obscure, sacred religious chant somehow being belted out of a 22nd century robotic hologram of The Ronettes. What can you share with us about this particular song?

Thanks! Ommm … not really that much except that song was written pretty early in the process, so I definitely probably over-worked the shit out of it. Part of me worried about making music that was more pop oriented. “Pinklike” was definitely one that I really liked immediately, but also seemed extremely poppy … almost too much so. However, a couple people have compared it to Brian Eno/ Bowie/ “Berlin” or “Low” era, which makes me really happy and definitely less worried about the pop aspect of it.

What are the challenges, if any, of recreating the Cloudland Canyon sounds for the live performance? How much are you comfortable with leaving to chance, or improvising?

Oh man … it’s impossible!!! We were trying to do it in a way that was true to the record for a while and then I just realized that we couldn’t ever sound like that. However, we have finally gotten to a point where even though the live performance is slightly different, it sounds probably better than if we played the songs 100% accurately. I guess we just learned that sometimes when you are recording songs prior to working them out live, that you are going to have to make certain adjustments for live, down the road. You can really drive yourself crazy, not realizing how different the two methods of presentation are.

On the subject of spirituality in art, Willem de Kooning said the following: “Spiritually, I am wherever my spirit allows me to be, and that is not necessarily in the future … Art never seems to make me peaceful or pure. I always seem to be wrapped in the melodrama of vulgarity.” Is the creation of your art a calming influence on you, all things considered?

Honestly, a lot of times I think that it’s not. Sometimes it completely drives me crazy. I am sooo completely given over to perfectionism at this point that it’s almost too much to deal with sometimes. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s true. Anyone who has been around while I am making a record knows that for sure.

What’s next for Cloudland Canyon?

I am putting the final touches on an 12″ Ep for Not Not Fun. A couple of singles, including a split with Wooden Wand on Great Pop Supplement. Another record for Trensmat. Some more things I can’t really mention right now. As far as shows … we are playing a few times at SXSW, The Black Angels’ Psych Fest in April and then some West Coast shows afterward. I’m about to start focusing a lot more time on Intercoastal Artists, which is my record label.

Cloudland Canyon

If you happen to find yourself anywhere near Richmond, Virginia, over the next couple of days, you owe it to yourself to have your wig flipped. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury …

1. If I were you, I would be checking out MOTHER SUN FLOWER tomorrow night (March 2) at The Canal Club. It’s not just that they share a skin-smashing maniac with The Flying Eyes … it’s also that they have riffs the size of tidal waves and prefer to concentrate on the finer things in life, like destroying your eardrums.

2. If you find yourself rolling fast down I-95 – supersonic, overdrive – then you deserve to stop by Cous Cous this Thursday evening to the man, the myth, the miracle of the modern age … GULL! In all honesty, Gull puts forward one of the most compelling and energetic live shows that I have ever seen in my life (and keep in mind that I have seen both King Diamond and Snoop). Missing him would be a crime, and you are the only victim.

We Have Signal: Gull from We Have Signal on Vimeo.

Some guy from some website called “Revolt of the Apes” is providing the live electric soundtrack for the evening, whatever that means. I heard that dude drives a car made out of old Jethro Tull albums.

RIVER SPIRIT DRAGON have this to say about their music:

“Recorded in the moment. Slow building, always moving.”

Yes. Absolutely.

Listen: River Spirit Dragon are offering their 2 song album (44+ minutes of music “recorded in the moment. Slow building, always moving,” we remind you) for just $4. Or if you’re insane, you can get the cassette. Either way, don’t hesitate.

But I hesitate to post an entire track from a two track album. So I give you this …

Download 9 minutes of “Blue Dream” by River Spirit Dragon, Mixed with Some Other Stuff (30 minutes total)

“Blue Dream” by RIVER SPIRIT DRAGON + “Rain” by MARBLE SHEEP + “Dragonfly” by THE PURPLE MINDS OF LAZERON + “Enjoy Yourself” by DRAGONFLY

But if you’re not into that, get into this. And if you’re not into this … I don’t know what to tell you.

ZAZA have been blowing minds left right and center, freaking you out with the electrified nighttime vibe, dense and weird, dance-y and wild. “Distance Creator,” a track from their forthcoming LP, not only has our expectations primed, but also has us contemplating painting a ZAZA mural on a bedroom wall. That means it’s awesome. Hypnotic. I bet this sounds like a five-dimension disco funeral live.

Download “Distance Creator” direct from ZAZASOUND.COM

“Every creator painfully experiences the chasm between his inner vision and its ultimate expression.” – Isaac “Bash-’em” Bashevis “Rock ‘n Roll” Singer

THE MORNING AFTER GIRLS

“Good Morning, Good Morning!”

What do we think of when we think of The Morning After Girls? Guitars? Australia? Melodies that seem to extend for miles and miles, disappearing into the horizon, where they are ultimately reclaimed, re-purposed and reborn for the next gorgeous song about falling, human nature and love?

Sure – all of those things. But also the Marquis de Sade.

Specifically, words spoken by de Sade in the Peter Weiss play, “The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton Under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade.” Specifically, these words:

“And now I see where you revolution is leading – to the withering of the individual man, to the death of choice, to uniformity … and so, I turn away … I step out of my place, and watch what happens, without joining in – observing, noting down my observations.”

Certainly, the straight-mackin’ Marquis knew a little something about pleasure and pain (as do The Morning After Girls). But what Weiss’ words bring forth is the notion of the observer, the watcher, the fool on the hill, if you will – the alone. Interested, invested, intrigued – but still alone. That’s the feeling I associate most closely with The Morning After Girls’ tremendous album, “Alone.”

Three of the boys who are Girls – Martin Sleeman, Alexander White and E.J. Hagen – were kind enough to answer our questions and help us to not feel so all alone.

For many American weirdos, our knowledge of Australian contributions to the world of rock and roll begins somewhere along the line with The Bee-Gees and AC/DC, then maybe continues along to Radio Birdman and … well, you get the point. In this age of instant Internet communication, why do you think Australia continues to persist as somewhat of an “exotic” locale for rock musicians to originate? What treasures of the Australian music landscape are we missing that we should catch up on?

Martin: I don’t think that Australia does “persist as somewhat of an exotic locale” really. I don’t think it’s something that any whole place can actually enforce, you know? I think that there will always be some spectators who enjoy drawing correlations between one thing and another in order to suck all the uniqueness out of an artist. All the artists you mention, and many more, have a uniqueness all their own, regardless of their origin. Nevertheless, for the sake of this question, I sometimes wonder whether what gives some Australian bands a commonality, are the ones which have moved away from Australia to spend a long period of time (or their journey) in another place, perhaps more often than not, 10,000 miles away. Most of the places, thoughts, ideas, experiences that people have never seen for themselves, gain more labels of “mystery” or whatever because they are simply unknown. It’s unfair for me to describe Australia as a country in a way that properly answers your question, so I can only say go there (when you can) and experience it for yourself.

Alex: As a non-Australian, I can tell you, from an outsider’s perspective, that Australia has been a bit misunderstood as a country thanks to goofy people like Paul Hogan, Steve Irwin (God rest his soul), and those wicked Outback Steakhouse commercials. But Oz is forging a new identity in the world — especially through music. A band like Tame Impala shows that an Australian band can make music that’s not geocentric.

EJ: Aussie bands? There was a band called Afterglow that I’ve always liked. They really wanted to be Ride in my opinion. Pretty dead-on vocally on a few tunes. Afterglow’s “Fall Behind” 7-inch, a “The Real Thing” 45 by Russell Morris, Bee Gees’ first, and a few Sugargliders and Easy Beats 45’s are the only vinyl of Aussie bands I’ve got that I can think of off the top.

Then again, The Morning After Girls are hardly an Australian band at this point – I believe the band currently resides in NYC. What was the reasoning behind the shift in continents? What advantages has the move provided? What has been the biggest unforeseen obstacle to life in the big city? Our limited knowledge on this topic suggests that visas and passports are, generally, a colossal pain in the ass.

Alex: I believe Martin, Sacha, and I moved to New York City for the same reasons—because we love the energy and opportunities, and also because of its location. It’s the ideal place to be if you want to travel the states, Canada, Europe and the U.K. without spending 21 hours on an airplane. Visas are an almost constant concern for musicians visiting from out of the U.S. without a Green Card. But rules are what they are and at the moment they are strict. You just have to have your papers in order and prepare to deal with immigration
officials. You have to play along with the game and hope you don’t end up in some USCIS dungeon.

EJ: Advantages of the lads moving nearby, for me, would be I still get to live in my house, hang in my locals with my mates when not busy, work on things I need to get done. I’m probably not the right one to ask.

Not to be confrontational at an early juncture in the interview process, but not only is this supposed “Australian” band not currently residing down under, but we also have it on good authority that there are currently NO girls in the band, whatsoever. Do you care to comment on these allegations? How can you possibly explain yourself?

EJ: There are no girls in the band? That’s false advertising, yeah?

Alex: Well, my only reply is that I think it’s a brilliant name, so it shouldn’t go to waste despite the fact that we’re all chaps. I mean, there were no monkeys in The Monkees nor zombies in The Zombies. Didn’t hear them get called on the carpet for that!

Continuing on a vaguely related theme … how often does the band’s website get contacted by confused girls looking for information about the morning after pill?

Alex: Never. We encourage them to contact the band members individually for counseling.

Martin: The girls who contact us are never confused.

EJ: I’ve never heard of this happening either. To quote a movie, “It’s such a fine line between stupid and clever,” isn’t it?

One of the things often commented on regarding the music of The Morning After Girls is the very dynamic nature to your sound – even the most prominent influences seem to be encrypted in a way that keeps listeners on their toes. There are shades of your influences (or what one might assume are among your musical influences). Is this variance in sound something the band ever discusses as a concept, or does it just happen organically, after years of practice?

Martin: Ever since myself and Sacha developed a relationship, there has been an unspoken understanding regarding what we are trying to convey artistically. We are both very passionate about our belief that the most beautiful facets of life are those which defy description. So, for us to discuss that which makes us “us,” would only serve to deprive our art of its uniqueness. I am influenced by life itself. The intangible nature of what always seems to be just beyond our reach. These things defy discussion, thus accommodating expression through music.

Alex: Well, to my knowledge, in the past, it’s always been an organic process where songs come from jamming out with no expectations. Expectations contradict art.

What does the path of your own musical evolution look like? What was the first music that captured your attention in your youth? How do you feel about that music now? What was the first live band that you ever saw, and which live band’s performance was so convincing that you thought, “Ok, I HAVE to do THAT”?

Martin: A path such as the one I think you’re referring to does not look like anything; it cannot be seen. I was brought up with classical music from as far back as i can remember. I used to get to my grandfather’s classical concerts every weekend. He played in an orchestra that did charity events for the mentally handicapped. These times I guess shaped my appreciation for the ways that music can reach so many people. My mother gave me an old HMV suitcase-record player when I was very young, and all she had was an ELO record, an Elton John record, and I was given “Electric Warrior” by T-Rex from my best friend of that time. Right now, the music that makes the most sense to me would have to be Bach, Rachmaninoff, Chopin. It’s retained an untouchable beauty that will always fascinate me. The first show I ever saw was Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Gondoliers.”

Alex: My first concert was The Kinks in 1993 at the Mann Music Center in Philadelphia. I know Martin’s first concert was Elton John, which makes me jealous. The first band I saw live where I said, “That looks like a good career,” was The Charlatans U.K., sometime in the 90’s.

EJ: Loaded question. A.) Great B.) 80’s hip-hop C.) Music now is a bit OCD. It’s hard to find bands that write songs instead of odd parts thrown together. I blame “OK Computer.” “The Bends” was brilliant. Very well written songs. D.) Teenage Fanclub in a high school gym in like ’89ish while I was in a very poor part of West Virginia fixing peoples’ roofs in a church youth group.

What thought does the band put in to the format and form of its releases? What tells The Morning After Girls that its time to put out an album, versus an EP versus scrapping the song all-together? Will you take the stand that vinyl is killing the MP3 industry?

Martin: It’s a necessary beast in today’s society that one must give thought to format, etc. Xemu Records give a lot of consideration to creating releases that convey a high level of stylistic beauty to suit a band’s music. That was one of the many reasons why we felt so comfortable in committing to them.

Alex: Exactly. A lot of thought goes into everything from the track listing to the booklet layout and packaging. Sacha and Martin have strong opinions and plan the releases in every detail.

EJ: Vinyl is really the only format now.

What music have you been listening to lately? Push comes to shove, what’s your favorite song by The Warlocks?

Alex: Personally, I’ve been listening to the same Beatles, Stones, Kinks trifecta I have since I was small. More contemporary bands I listen to are Dead Meadow, Doves, The Charlatans, Spiritualized, Telefon Tel Aviv, Bernard Butler, Zero 7, The Quarter After, Darker My Love and MGMT. I’m on a hiatus from Blur, Oasis, Suede, and The Stone Roses. I really dig The Warlocks, but I can’t choose a favorite because there are too many I like. “Shake the Dope Out,” “Baby Blue,” “Red Camera” and “Midnight Sun” all rank high. I watched The Warlocks play live almost every night when we toured together — so I’ve seen them some 30 odd times.

EJ: I listen to me and Alex’s other band Highspire to try to come up with video ideas and to hear what I don’t like. There’s not much I don’t like so I keep listening to try and find something. Also, a German shoegaze band called Malory I’m friendly with. When they’re hitting all cylinders they are about as powerful a live show it gets.

You’ve now finished recording your next full-length, entitled “Alone.” What can we expect from this album? What are the album’s distinguishing characteristics in your view? Is it true that you have sold your soul for rock and roll, and a true title of the album is “A Loan”? Johan Wolfgang Von Goethe said the following: “The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.” Your thoughts?

Martin: Beauty can only be experienced alone.

Alex: A Loan … that’s funny and more true than I can say. If it’s a loan, guess that means you eventually get your soul back, right? Rock ‘n’ roll is a cruel mistress and if you’re not careful, the ambition associated with it can ruin all the relationships in your life and make you into an opportunistic monster. When that begins to happen, that’s when you know your soul has a clearance price tag affixed to it. What to expect from the album is to let it grow on you because it reveals itself rather slowly. The vocals and guitars sound wonderfully pristine thanks to the work we did with Mr. Alan Moulder. But this album requires several listens through because the song melodies are more sophisticated than the “Evolve” album but they’re no less beautiful. People nowadays, myself included, tend to listen to new music the way record executives did in the l980’s – like, “You get 30 seconds to impress me or I’m throwing your demo tape out the window of my ostentatious limousine.” I’m asking people not to think that way when listening to “Alone.”

EJ: “Alone” is a great album. It’s why I joined up.

What’s next for The Morning After Girls?

Martin: We are finalizing plans to embark on a tour of the United States, followed by tours through the U.K. and Europe. As well, working on the next album.

Alex: Xemu Records released our album in North America on CD and vinyl LP on January 11, 2011. In the U.K. and Europe it’s being released through Cargo Records on March 14. After that, we hit the road. If we don’t tour soon I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die and take some people with me. Friend us on Facebook and you can see the announcement seconds after it’s made.

The Morning After Girls

PONTIAK

“He IS Heavy – He’s My Brother”

Praising Pontiak for their remarkable recorded output is an easy thing to do – we’re inclined to admire the intensity of any band who can release five albums in four years. Still, it’s of course a matter of quality over quantity – and as legendary rocker “Full Throttle” Aristotle once said, “Quality is not an act – it’s a habit.”

The good news for us is that Pontiak don’t look prepared to break themselves of the habit of quality song writing and sonic experimentation any time soon. Their most recent album – “Living,” on Thrill Jockey Records – is an indescribable joy, a blend of blade-sharpened hooks, threatening, dust-covered distortion and sub-atomic bass particles, vocals emitted largely in a state of stoic catatonia, all marbled by a drum sound that recalls nothing so much as a wooden bat smacking the back of your neck. It’s pretty great.

Brothers Van, Lain and Jennings Carney were kind enough to grant us just a peek into their strange and beautiful world.

The last remaining Pontiac dealer in the United States shuttered its doors on Halloween, 2010. Were you stoked? (We assume the whole reason for starting a band was the ultimate destruction of American automobile manufacturers.)

We own the name completely now!!

What can you tell us about your own musical path leading up to the formation of Pontiak? What bands first captured your attention as a child, and what bands first inspired you to make music of your own? What were your first forays into forming a band? Is there any music you made in the past that makes your cringe in retrospect?

We grew up listening primarily to classical and country music. Aside from that, I think in the eighties U2, the Fine Young Cannibals and perhaps the B-52s records were floating around the house.

It’s difficult to accurately categorize the music of Pontiak – which is almost always a good thing, and is certainly a good thing when referring the to the consistent vision portrayed on Pontiak’s albums. How do you describe your music when forced to do so? One thing that amazes this listener about the band is your ability to be heavy – from a very riff-centric point of view – even when the music isn’t necessarily … heavy. Despite the very real possibility that the preceding statement makes no sense at all, what do you think? Who are the riff-centric bands that have captured your ear in the past?

Currently? I think we approach what some call the riff as a sort of melodic structure. By approaching it that way, the options are endless. It can be heavy without being loud or too distorted and it can be light while being completely maxed out. But we certainly do not strive to be a riff-centric band.

What bands have you been listening to lately? If push comes to shove, what is your favorite Pink Floyd song of all time?

Lately, the I have been listening to the new Psychic Paramount album and it is absolutely awesome. John Prine, Glenn Gould … “Echoes, Part I.”

Would you care to comment on the rumor (the rumor that I am attempting to start right here) that Pontiak will open their set at Austin Psych Fest 4 with a cover of the “Judge GTO Breakaway” jingle, the song recorded by Paul Revere & The Raiders upon the 1969 release of the GTO Judge by Pontiac?

Hahaha … wow.

How did you first hear about Austin Psych Fest? Are there any bands in particular that you are excited about sharing the stage with?

We heard about it a couple of years ago just through talking with friends. We are excited to play with everyone; the lineup is amazing. Hope I can catch Dead Meadow’s set.

One song in particular from the most recent Pontiak album that Revolt of the Apes has been known to hit the “repeat” button on several dozen times in a row is “Algiers by Day.” What can you tell us about the origin of this track? Are we hearing correctly that, “the lemon lady is on the brain,” or is it time for another dozen listens? Would you care to elaborate?

Yes, that is the correct lyric. The whole album flows lyrically as one piece. Algiers is a beautiful city.

In the recent book, “Becoming Elektra: The True Story of Jac Holzman’s Visionary Record Label,” Holzman recounts his impression of working with Love’s Arthur Lee, saying, “Arthur was very difficult to work with. He was a downer, so super critical of those he worked with. He rarely had a complimentary word, because he considered himself better. But he couldn’t keep it together to show the world his true talent. Arthur is one of the few geniuses I’ve met. But genius needs focus and intent. Otherwise, it just discharges into the ground.” Your thoughts? How do you keep your own focus and intent when it comes to creating music – or do you at all? How do you balance the consuming creative impulse verses potentially being an asshole?

I think its easier to create a wall around oneself than it is to learn the hard process of collaborating with other people without making enemies.

What’s next for Pontiak?

We just finished recording an EP that is due out in June, and we are in the middle of recording an LP that will be released in September. We also have tentative plans to tour Europe in September/October and possibly a few festivals in Europe over the summer. Thanks for the questions!!

Pontiak

BAND OF THE WEEK: LAST REMAINING PINNACLE

We’re not saying that Brian Eno should do the world a favor by becoming familiar with the music of LAST REMAINING PINNACLE. We’re just saying that Brian Eno could do the world a favor by becoming familiar with the music of Last Remaining Pinnacle.

Perhaps the most oft-repeated (and unattributable) truism in weirdo music has it that the incomparable Mr. Eno once declared that the first Velvet Underground album only sold 1,000 copies … but each of those thousand purchasers then formed their own band. It’s a beautiful sentiment – one that speaks to the immediate impact of The Velvet Underground in particular and the transformative power of rock and roll in general.

But the math is changing, and this is a good thing. We imagine that, at most, only half of those thousand purchasers started a band (our own personal, most generous accounting has us topping out at #344). The other half just put on dark shades, smoked cigarettes and looked cool (yours is no disgrace – this too is important behavior).

And both the band-forming half and the cool-looking half became older brothers and sisters, roommates and record store employees, and eventually, mothers and fathers. The influence is unyielding, generational, an unending linear path that turns out not to be linear at all but rather a spherical, universal whole.

Which brings us back to Last Remaining Pinnacle.

Download “Students of the V.U.” by Last Remaining Pinnacle.

The Virginia Beach-based duo create their cosmic chaos with the full acknowledgment of the textbooks written by their predecessors, and they’re unafraid to scribble their own notes in the margins – not only on the Velvets, but the Voidoids, Void, Voivod and perhaps The Violet Hour, too. But as your thirty-third rotation of the track above will prove (and trust me, you’ll be spinning “Students of the V.U.” at least that many times), Last Remaining Pinnacle are enrolled in the advanced level courses as well. Among their studies: the use of power for power, adaptation and survival in the midst of tribal warfare and the relentless human desire to climb the holy mountain – indeed, to reach the Last Remaining Pinnacle.

Listen: Last Remaining Pinnacle will be releasing this song on vinyl, as a split seven-inch with fellow eardrum-assassins, Pan-Galactic Straw Boss, coming this April from Custom Made Music.

Custom Made Music is a very notable label for you, dear readers, as they’ve already released great music from Austin Psych Fest performers past (Screen Vinyl Image, Ringo Deathstarr) and will soon do the same for future psych veterans (an upcoming EP from The Sky Drops), in addition to lots of other amazing things (like the highly Apes-approved debut from Pete International Airport). It’s a great label with much to explore …

… but don’t take my word for it – take it from someone else! You should already have the great “When the Sun Hits” blog – your resource for all things shoegaze and dream pop, of course – on your reading radar. Just yesterday, the Sun Hits crew posted a great record label spotlight feature on Custom Made Music, including a five-song, label sampling download. Apparently, we’ve tapped into some sort of universal mind blog vibe … apparently, we’re all students of the V.U.

“But what I mean to say is that you can afford to expose yourself to uncertainties in art that you wouldn’t allow yourself in real life. You can allow yourself to get into situations where you are completely lost, and where you are disoriented. You don’t know what’s going on, and you can actually not only allow yourself to do that, you can enjoy it.

It’s part of the stimulus of being an artist. That has, for me, a powerful function. But it’s precisely because it is an unreal activity, and it’s an activity that eventually doesn’t matter. In the sense that if you fuck it up it doesn’t matter at all, nobody cares. It doesn’t make any difference to anybody, and whatever artists try to believe, that is really the measure of their importance: that their mistakes are often more interesting than their intentions.”
– Brian Eno, “Punk” interview, sometime in 1976