PAINT IT BLACK - JANUARY 2005

Originally published in: Chord Magazine, Caustic Truths, ??

Random thoughts: I had a complete obsession with this Philadelphia hardcore band for a few months after Paradise came out (okay, the obsession never really stopped) and ended up writing about them three times in a very short span. For the life of me, I can't remember which of these stories printed where, but I do remember a long, intense conversation with Dan Yemin in my laundry room as I fumbled with my backup tape recorder because we played phone tag and I had to the interview from home instead of my office. Still, despite the tech difficulties, it was rad to talk to the dude!

PAINT IT BLACK
Momma Yemin knows best

By Jason Schreurs

Paradise, the second album by Philadelphia hardcore band Paint It Black, is pretty much the polar opposite of their 2003 debut, CVA. Featuring lead vocals by ex-Kid Dynamite/Lifetime guitarist Dan Yemin, not only are Paint It Black’s new songs more developed and memorable, the messages are more hopeful, refining Yemin’s blistering condemnations on CVA into powerful rallying anthems on Paradise. And, according to the 30-something Yemin, the change is due in part to his mom.

“When my mom got the last record she was really upset. She said, ‘Do you really feel that everything is this dismal? Where’s the hope?’ And I hadn’t realized that the last record sounded so hopeless until she pointed it out. That shook me up a little bit. If you ask me on any given day, ‘Do you feel hopeless?’ the answer would be no. And I certainly didn’t mean to impart that on the first record, I feel like it was an accidental thing.”

So it took Yemin’s mom to set him straight on the lyrical path to Paradise?

“Absolutely, it took mom to remind me that there had to be room for hope, and it had to be somewhat more explicit. Just because you are hopeful doesn’t mean it’s coming across in the music.”

Explicit hope (for a seemingly hopeless world) is actually a perfect way to describe the ironically titled Paradise, which is a return to the positive energy perfected by the classic DC-punk bands (Faith, Minor Threat, Embrace, Rites of Spring, etc.), but also the kind of hardcore record that definitely isn’t generic or useless in 2005. In other words, although it is a personal and political record, this ain’t no “stabbed me in the back,” “fuck the world” batch of songs.

“I feel like it’s really self-indulgent to just wallow in darkness and negativity,” explains Yemin. “Yeah, things are fucked up, but then to embrace despair and use that as a way to justify nihilism is a cop-out.”

When Yemin’s previous band, the dynamic and vastly popular Philly act Kid Dynamite, fell apart in their positive hardcore prime in 1999, Yemin stepped away from the scene to pursue a career in psychology.

He was living a normal, 9-5 type life when, out of nowhere, he suffered a severe stroke and admitted himself to the hospital. After a full recovery, Yemin realized how much he missed being in a hardcore band and how important it was to his life.

He quickly grabbed a microphone and notepad and Paint It Black was born. So, nearly four years after a near-death experience, how’s he feeling?

“I got really lucky,” says Yemin. “I had no permanent damage from the stroke. I take blood thinners so I don’t have any more clots but, in terms of my activity, I still work out five days a week, I ride my bike everywhere, and I lift weights. And obviously I run around screaming at the top of my lungs [at live shows], and running into the walls, and running into other people, and that sort of thing. I’m pretty active, pretty hyperactive in a lot of ways, and I didn’t have to sacrifice anything.”

These days Yemin carefully balances his career and band, something he was never able to do while on extensive tours with Lifetime and Kid Dynamite. So does he consider Paint It Black a project that he can just put as much time as he can spare into?

“I don’t want to call it a project,” insists Yemin, “because we definitely tour, but we just have to do it in short bursts. I work for myself, so I can leave when I want to leave, but I can’t leave for long periods of time.”

Which kinda works out well for the other members of the band –- drummer David Wagenschutz (who also drummed in Kid Dynamite), bassist Andy Nelson, and new guitarist Colin McGinniss (ex-guitarist Dave Hause left to form Hot Water Music clones The Loved Ones) --- especially Wagenschutz who is also busy keeping the beat in Good Riddance and None More Black. Coincidentally, None More Black was formed by another ex-Kid Dynamite member, singer Jason Shevchuck.

But back to Paint It Black and Yemin’s rejuvenated love for writing and playing music. It’s a hard one to ask, but one last, important question looms. If he didn’t have that stroke, would he even be singing in a hardcore band right now?

“Who knows what would have happened if I didn’t have the stroke,” he answers. “It puts things in perspective and the awareness of your mortality is always kind of there in your peripheral vision.”

Paradise drops Mar. 8 on Jade Tree Records and, if they know what’s good for them, hardcore fans best line up for a copy of this one. Check http://www.paintitblack.org/ for mp3 samples, gig info, and more.

Paint It Black
Finding Paradise

By Jason Schreurs

It’s already being heralded as the best hardcore CD in recent memory (and not just by me), so how was Paint It Black singer Dan Yemin feeling when he put the amazing new album, Paradise, to bed?

“You’re kind of filled with doubt,” remembers Yemin. “I felt great about the songs, but we took a lot of risks and it wasn’t obvious how it was going to come together until it was all mixed. But when we started mixing, I knew it was golden. I haven’t been this excited about something I’ve worked on since Lifetime’s Hello Bastards.”

The ex-member of Lifetime and Kid Dynamite has always been involved in uncompromising hardcore bands, and his latest mixes old school sensibilities with a post-hardcore melody and vibrancy. CVA, Paint It Black’s 2003 debut, stuck to the tried and true, but Paradise is “a whole different animal,” says Yemin, with a sound that sticks out in today’s watered-down hardcore scene.

“To be honest, I’m almost considering just giving up on that word hardcore altogether, because it’s come to be associated with so many things I find limiting and disgusting,” says Yemin.

“Maybe let the fashion police and the metal people have the word hardcore and we can think of something else to call it. It’s aggressive, interesting, and political music, and there’s no place for that in what people are calling hardcore these days.”

When Kid Dynamite broke up in 1999, Yemin decided to leave music and pursue his medical career. But, after a severe stroke, he realized how important being in a band was to him and Paint It Black was born. So, with all that flip-flopping, does Yemin ever second guess his decision to return?

“Not for a minute, no. I think about what my life was missing when I wasn’t playing music and I don’t second guess it at all. Sometimes I second guess how the hell I allowed myself to slip out of it.”

THE BLACK HEART PROCESSION - APRIL 2006

Originally published in: Chord Magazine

Random thoughts: I barely remember this interview, but I do remember Pall Jenkins being a nice fellow to chat with.

THE BLACK HEART PROCESSION
A sad and beautiful world

By Jason Schreurs

One thing you can always count on from Pall Jenkins, leader of The Black Heart Procession, is a detailed explanation of his records. The San Diego collective’s fifth album, The Spell, takes listeners on another desperate yet hopeful journey, one that Jenkins is quick to divulge.
“The common thread is love and war,” begins Jenkins, “the idea of being captivated or feeling like you’re in a spell. You can read this record as a political record, or a love record. The spell is the concept of being helpless and feeling controlled. That’s why The Spell is a very appropriate title for the record; being tangled in things and not being able to move.”
If that sounds like aural punishment, it’s not. Really. The essence of The Black Heart Procession’s sound may be morose, dark, downtrodden… even haunting, but it’s hopefulness that always finds a way to peek through the despair, if only momentarily.
“I think we throw those elements into each one of our records. We look at our music as a journey where you go through a series of emotions and ideas,” explains Jenkins. “With each one of our records it gets really dark—it gets light as well…”
Jenkins hesitates, then adds, “Traditionally we’re not very light, we’re always on the darker side of things.”
The group, which began as the side project of Jenkins and guitarist/piano player Tobias Nathaniel after their other band, Three Mile Pilot, went on an extended hiatus, has swelled into a five-piece with the additions of drummer Joe Plummer (Modest Mouse), bassist Jimmy LaValle, and violinist Matt Resovich (both of The Album Leaf).
Although the songs on The Spell might create the impression that Jenkins and Nathaniel are coming full circle and returning to the style of their previous band, nothing is ever as it seems in the disturbed world of The Black Heart Procession.
In fact, it’s more likely their next album will see more lineup shuffling and a return to the bare minimum sounds of their trilogy of albums, appropriately titled One, Two, and Three, which were probably best known for using the melancholy sounds of a manipulated saw and pieces of sheet metal.
“I think our next record will probably be even more different. This one we wrote on purpose as a full band. I’m curious to see what our next record will be,” muses Jenkins. “Who knows, it might just be back to a two-piece and really eerie. This record we didn’t put the saw on very much because it just didn’t need it, and now I’m kind of itching to go back in this other direction where it’s the saw and all the spooky stuff.”
In the meantime, we have The Spell, an album that once again illustrates how this band’s music seems to come together in a séance of spirits from the musical netherworld. With melodies lurching and stumbling and piano keys echoing, it’s Jenkin’s pensive lyrics that complete the sordid lullabies.
“I try not to fight too hard against my words. I avoid really having to struggle hard to have the perfect lyrics. I just let the song start dictating itself and I’m there as a medium to the song,” says Jenkins.
As songs develop, Jenkins says the lyrics are added at different times, but only when he feels the mood is right. The analogy he makes is to a key unlocking a door, and he extends that analogy to its brink while explaining his unique writing process.
“A lot of it is about being patient and waiting for that time when it dawns on you. With every album and every song there’s a key, and you’re searching for that key and waiting to open the door to the song. Sometimes you have a bunch of keys on a key-ring and you’re trying different things, just to find the right vibe, or mood, or idea. Eventually it starts unfolding and you start opening all the doors and everything comes together.”
The analogies don’t end there. Jenkins also likens the band’s creative process to the making of an elaborate puzzle. “We don’t have a lot of preconceived notions and it’s kind of like making a puzzle. It’s not my fault; we’re just putting the puzzle pieces together,” he laughs. “We just opened this box from Toys R Us and this is the puzzle. Let’s put it together. That’s how I look at it.”
Ask most bands to describe their sound to potential listeners and genre names are usually thrown around, but describing The Black Heart Procession is nearly impossible, even for Jenkins. Luckily, he pulls out the perfect answer.
“I don’t like to think of us as one style of music. I like to look at our music as world music; it’s for the world and made by the world with elements of the world.”

FISHBONE - JUNE 2005

Originally published in: Monday Magazine

Random thoughts: I was talking to a fellow freelancer from Australia today and I realized I've been neglecting ye ole blog. And I've also been mentioning some of my favourite articles at work lately, and this Fishbone one kept coming up. Then I realized, "Wait, I never posted that one to the blog!" So here it is, in all of it's random glory. I love how this piece turned into a recap of Angelo Moore's shitty cell phone reception.

Phonin’ in the Phoneyard

Playing cellular tag with Fishbone’s Angelo Moore

Cell phones: The bane of a music journalist’s existence. It’s not uncommon for cell phone interviews to break up or cut off, but talking to Fishbone singer/superfreak Angelo Moore as he winds through the streets of LA is like trying to converse with an angry wasp circling its nest.
“Hold on, maybe I’ll drive over to the other side of the hills so we won’t get cut off…” yells Moore as our connection is lost for the first time. Notice I said the first time.
Without going into extreme detail, let’s just say I was working the phone lines like a maniac trying to get enough information strung together from Moore to find out about their upcoming headlining gig at Victoria’s annual SkaFest. Like, for one, do the longtime genre-busters consider themselves a ska band?
“No, we got a lot more than ska, but people know us for our ska,” says Moore. “But people will see high energy, well-oiled, badass musicians… lots of funk, lots of soul, lots of rock, some gospel overtones, you’re gonna hear some punk rock, too. And of course you’re gonna hear a lot of ska.”
Formed in 1979, Fishbone became notorious in the ‘80s for their spastic fusion (even scoring a minor hit with “Bonin’ in the Boneyard”), but the ‘90s found them oddballs out with a sound entirely too challenging for its own good. By the time the new millennium rolled around, Moore and bassist Norwood Fisher were the only two original members left, and they struggled to keep the band afloat with an influx of new players.
“Those guys don’t want to do it no more, too bad for them,” stings Moore about his ex-bandmates. “We’ve got new guys that are happy to be here and they want to see Fishbone carry on, so that’s what makes us want to carry it on, too.”
One of the new guys Moore refers to is none other than guitar hero Rocky George, who joined the Fishbone ranks in 2003, and is best known for his finger-licking work in the legendary metal/punk group Suicidal Tendencies. I grew up on this guy’s raging, non-stop guitar solos, so I gotta ask what it’s like working with one of my boyhood idols.
“You say something about Rocky George?” shouts Moore, obviously unable to hear my crucial question. Then the phone dies again. Frantically, I scramble to get Moore back on the line but, as soon as I do, it immediately starts breaking up.
“Hold on, man, I got something else to say,” bellows Moore for the last time, over perpetual static. “I’ve got this new solo project. It’s called…” The line goes dead again.
Don’t you just love technology?

-Jason Schreurs

JASON AND VOIVOD

Hey everyone --

Sorry about my lack of postings lately. I've been really busy writing news items for Exclaim http://exclaim.ca/ and web and print reviews and stories for Alternative Press http://altpress.com/

I hope to post more of my archived articles soon, but in the meantime, just to tide you over, here's a photo from last night of me with legendary Voivod drummer Away at the Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver. Voivod totally ruled, as did headliners Down.

Bye for now, JS

FANTOMAS - March 2005

Originally published in: Chord Magazine

Random thoughts: In celebration of Faith No More's recent reformation and killer set at the Download Festival, here's one of my all-time favorite articles--an interview with Mike Patton about Fantomas. Truth is, I was on cloud nine talking to Patton, but, like all of my "heroes," he was genuine and easy to talk to.

Fantomas
The mad genius strikes again

By Jason Schreurs

Fantomas leader Mike Patton has been in some great bands over the years. Need a list? Okay, Faith No More, Mr. Bungle, Tomahawk, collaborations with The Dillinger Escape Plan, John Zorn, Merzbow, not to mention a variety of solo projects. But none of these could possibly be as entertaining as Fantomas, featuring King Buzzo (Melvins), Dave Lombardo (Slayer), and Trevor Dunn (ex-Mr. Bungle). Stretching the ever-extendable boundaries of Patton’s overactive imagination must be a bundle of fun.
“It’s…,” pauses Patton, “ya, I would say that Fantomas is pretty fun. It’s also very disciplined, but I think the fun in it, for me, is watching these guys pull this stuff off. Writing something that is acrobatic, and insane, and full of twists and turns, and watching them pull it off, is very satisfying. Also knowing whatever I write, these guys can rise to the challenge and spit it right back at me; that is rewarding and makes me feel invincible. It makes me want to write a concerto or something for them.”
A fourth Fantomas album, Suspended Animation, on Patton’s own Ipecac imprint, is the latest entry in a sonic journal of the truly weird. Of course, the man has worked with some jaw-dropping musicians, but he must just look around at Fantomas rehearsals, astounded, and think, “This is the drummer for Slayer and the guitar player from Melvins!”
“I still have those moments, yeah,” admits Patton. “Especially on stage sometimes. The way we set up, I face directly across the stage at Dave [Lombardo], so I get to ooh and aaah at him…”
The myth surrounding Patton and his handpicked Fantomas crew is he is a slave-driver, constantly challenging them to the brink. Judging by their chaotic fury, in all of its experimental, strange glory, the demented ringleader image certainly fits. But Patton is quick to laugh off any dictator-like scenarios.
“Put it this way, I’ve got the Angel of Death on drums. Who’s going to slave-drive that guy? We’re talking about a guy who sold his soul to the devil. How can I compete with that?”
The truth is Patton did mastermind this bizarre group, and albums like 2001’s Director’s Cut (an homage to film) and last year’s Delirium Cordia {a 74-minute, one-song nightmare) were written entirely by him, so it’s pretty obvious who’s in control here.
“The only reason people might paint that portrait is because it’s my music and I know the way it should sound and…,” Patton pauses again, “I don’t have to crack any whips, really. I just explain to them what I want and we hammer it out.”
Make no mistake; this is not easy stuff to play. Even with perhaps the most loose-limbed drummer around (Lombardo), an amazing guitar player (Buzzo), and a workhorse bassist (Dunn), things can get a little complicated.
“Unfortunately, there’s no easy way of learning it. The only way we end up getting it down is by going over and over and over, through repetition in the rehearsal room. And we all make little cheat notes and have our own little tricks that we play in our minds to actually remember this stuff. It’s a real pain in the ass to play. Not that it’s technically difficult, but more-so it’s hard to remember what’s coming next.”
Themed around the wacky month of April, Suspended Animation also expresses an outright fascination with cartoons and children’s playthings. Samples of possessed toys and warped Saturday morning sound-effects are intermingled with Patton’s genius hardcore herky-jerk. If Barney the Dinosaur, Bugs Bunny, and Elmo got in league with Satan for some death metal action, this is what they would sound like.
For such a bizarre choice of sounds, packaging for this release was going to be a difficult task. The solution? None other than Japanese pop art icon Yoshitomo Nara.
“I contacted [Nara] and told him what kind of a record I was going to make,” begins Patton. “I had no idea if he knew me from… Eddie Vedder, or anybody else. I just kind of wrote him out of the blue and said, ‘I think your artwork would be great for this record and I would love if you would create some original stuff for it. Whatever you want.’”
“And he wrote me back saying it sounded great. I sent him some of our records and he loved them. He gave me 30 drawings,” he marvels, “most of which are original to use on this thing. So I was overwhelmed. I thought I would get two or three.”
Patton took the Nara originals and worked them into a calendar for April, the month with the silliest holidays (“That Sucks Day,” believe it or not, is April 15). A limited-edition of the CD is a full-on calendar, ready to hang on the wall. One last thing though, how is Ipecac going to afford to ship those things out?
“Ya,” chuckles Patton wildly, “don’t ask!”

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NOTE - And another piece from the same interview for Caustic Truths Magazine.

Fantomas
Mike Patton invents another genre: Kiddie-core

By Jason Schreurs

I wish Mike Patton could witness my kids’ reaction when I crank up the latest Fantomas CD, Suspended Animation. I think he’d get a kick out of seeing them do this weird sort of interpretative dance while they make bizarre faces; perhaps the ideal reaction to Patton’s latest creation, a truly strange ode to cartoons and the wacky month of April. I’ll explain what this all means in a bit, but first Patton’s reaction to putting joy into the lives of slightly off-kilter children.
“Oh man, see,” laughs Patton, “these are the people I want to play for! Fuck all of these middle-aged hipsters; these are the real fans, man!”
For those living on planet Zyborg, Patton is the guy who once fronted Faith No More and Mr. Bungle, and now Tomahawk and Fantomas, as well as constantly creating solo CDs around his chronically experimental vocal chords. So with all of the musical genres Patton has invented (and often destroyed in the process), he must have ventured into the territory of children’s music before, right?
“Well, I sort of flirted with some elements like that,” he explains. “Mr. Bungle did a lot of fooling around with that kind of a thing, but I’ve never explored it deeply like I did on this record. I never incorporated it into a musical language, so to speak.”
Suspended Animation, a 30-track theme album on Patton’s own Ipecac Records, is built around each day in the month of April, extravagantly packaged and artistically rendered by Japanese pop art icon Yoshitomo Nara.
The songs are a sonic maelstrom of sampled kids playthings, like scrambled messages from the toy graveyard, egged on by the drumming insanity of Slayer’s Dave Lombardo, bass-work of Trevor Dunn (longtime Patton collaborator in Mr. Bungle), and King Buzzo, guitar god from The Melvins. Basically, the songs on this CD are like a gruesomely entertaining version of what parents have to listen to on a day-to-day basis.
“Dave [Lombardo] said that too, at a certain point when we were recording,” laughs Patton. “Because he’s the kind of guy that wakes up early, deals with his kids, and then he’d come out and rehearse for eight hours, or something ridiculous like that, and he’d say, ‘Jesus, I can’t escape! This is the soundtrack to my life. Every morning, now it’s in my rehearsal!’”
“It was driving him nuts,” says Patton with a demented cackle.
The new album was actually recorded during the same session as Fantomas’ last CD, Delirium Corda, a single, 74-minute track of challenging darkness and precision. With that particular piece of Fantomas weirdness being so moody and intense, it must have been nice to blow off some steam with the decidedly more wacky and way out there Suspended Animation.
“Well, it didn’t really work out like that,” laments Patton. “In fact, I think we recorded the cartoony, fun Suspended Animation stuff first. So it’s like we ate our dessert before the main meal.”
Back to the kiddies. I’ve gotta thank Patton, again, for doing one that the kids can enjoy. In fact, they adore it. They literally freak out when they hear any of the 30 tracks on Suspended Animation. And my kids don’t often like dad’s music, so it’s nice to be able to put on a CD and say, “Here’s one for you, kids. Go for it!”
“Very good,” says Patton with a sparkle. “I was telling the guys that maybe this time instead of playing sweaty, stinky rock clubs we should play daycare centres and comedy clubs [laughs]… Detention halls!”
Then Patton lets out a bellow: “Grown-ups suck! That’s the theme of this record.”

For more info, go to www.myspace.com/fantomasband

BATTLES - March 2007

Originally published in: Chord Magazine

_______________________________________

Random thoughts: Talking to John Stanier from Battles was awesome. Mostly because he used to drum in Helmet, but also because he was a smart, funny guy. Love his quote about the hard times in his previous band.

____________________________________

BATTLES

By Jason Schreurs

Describing New York quartet Battles to an unsuspecting fan of “average” music is almost impossible. Between the blips and bleeps, syncopated poly-rhythms, and high crescendo vocal emissions, this sentence might as well be written in Swahili. Listening to Battles’ latest, Mirrored, it’s hard not to wonder what the hell is going on. One thing’s for certain, they aren’t an “average” band.
“In a nutshell, we’re trying to have fun and do something new,” explains drummer John Stanier. “The cool thing about Battles is it literally was started with a 100 percent genuine blank slate. There were no preconceptions on what was going to happen or what we wanted to do. It was truly something from the absolute bottom up.”
Battles were formed by guitarist Ian Williams (ex-Don Caballero) and Tyondai Braxton (an avant-jazz solo musician who has worked with Prefuse 73), and were joined by bassist Dave Konopka (ex-Lynx), and Stanier (ex-Helmet, currently in Tomahawk).
Within a few years, Battles have astounded with heralded EPs and an undisputed live show. When Prefuse took them on tour recently they had already turned enough heads to get signed to the same record label—Warp Records—and it’s been a great pairing.
“Warp is the absolute perfect match for us,” says Stanier. “I could not be happier; it just makes so much sense. As a label they totally stick to their guns, even if it’s obviously, blatantly non-commercial stuff.”
As for the band’s evolution, it’s from a noteworthy recipe. “It was four different people from different backgrounds and age groups, and from different parts of the country, getting together and throwing all their ideas into this big pot,” says Stanier. “I use the words ‘musical economy’ a lot. It’s almost as hard to arrange the songs as it is to write them. We exercise control very well and we all realized it early on.”
Musical economy? The next stage of math rock? Like, taking mathematical musical ideas and instead of trying to punch them into constricted formulas, looking at the production, distribution, and consumption of those musical ideas? Or perhaps Stanier has a more straightforward explanation.
“Economy is just knowing what to play, when, and when not to play something,” he obliges. “Like when to stop painting, you know? That whole theory. Think about all the bands with four really good players, but it just sounds like a total wank-fest jam band. We all respect each other so much, so we’re all more interested in the end result, and every song has a life of its own. We all understood those credos from day one.”
Mirrored is their first full-length and they sound in perfect synch on its 11 tracks. But they weren’t always a well-honed machine. According to Stanier, when Williams and Braxton approached him, Battles were “very loose and unfocused.”
“It took weeks to even start tossing ideas back and forth, and then slowly and surely it started to gel. At first it didn’t seem like a real band, then the next thing you know we’re touring and releasing records,” recalls Stanier.
Hard to believe such a self-indulgent band could garner such adoration. Wait, back up… self-indulgent? “You seriously think it’s self-indulgent?” asks Stanier, leaving an awkward silence to hang in the balance. Well, these guys are out to please themselves first, and that’s what they set out to do. Just saying…
“Yeah, no, I know. You’re kind of right,” says Stanier. “I don’t know if it’s self-indulgence, but you can’t be concerned with who’s going to like your stuff. Luckily, we have elements of so many different kinds of music that we’ve been able to reach out to a wide array of people, and you can’t ask for anything better than that. That’s the ultimate goal, right there.”
A desire to create something interesting, new, and, let’s say, self-rewarding was the impetus for Battles, and Mirrored marks the apex of their work to date. After Stanier’s time in Helmet and Williams’ in Don Caballero, a collaborative and rewarding band was a necessity.
“To be honest, both Ian and I had pretty bad experiences in our past bands and I certainly don’t want to dwell on that, but everyone really wanted to do something totally new,” says Stanier.
For now Battles are stepping back to really look at the album they’ve created, and how they’ve progressed into something Stanier says “constantly amazes him every day.”
“And it’s not in a pretentious way, at all,” he’s quick to point out. “We’re not trying to do this new kind of music, or make it ‘progressive rock.’ We’re just doing what we do, we’re having fun doing it, and we hope people like it… And I know that’s a vague, stupid comment to make, but it’s true.”

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For more info, go to: www.bttls.com

LUNGFISH - April 2003

Originally published in: Monday Magazine

Random thoughts: I remember being exceptionally excited about this one, a rare interview with one of the Dischord Records bands.

Stickin’ to their Lungs
No giving out, or giving up, or giving in…

By Jason Schreurs

Music without compromise. For most bands slogging away under the music industry umbrella, this isn’t just a dream; it’s an unattainable fantasy. But for Baltimore’s Lungfish, the past 15 years have been spent making music own their own terms, completely outside the mainstream spectrum.
“It's really just in a different orbit,” says bass player Sean Meadows. “Our music isn't about other things, we aren't selling it at the same markets… so we don't have to compromise it in any way because we aren't trying to trade our music for something else.”
Must be nice. In an industry where most groups feel compelled to take blind leaps of faith into the music machine, Lungfish is content to remain underground. Since 1988 they’ve created nine albums of compelling, authentic, emotional indie rock. Their fans, as varied as the band’s nine albums (2000’s Necrophones is the latest), are eagerly awaiting a recently completed tenth record.
“There are certain people who hear Lungfish music and find a connection,” notes Meadows. “Other people have heard the same music and hear static and make no connection. Usually people who find the music are searching for it, since the records are put out on a small scale without all this media explosiveness that seems to be so pervasive in every aspect of our culture.”
Meadows logs time in other indie notables Everlasting the Way and Red House Blues, and was a member of the sadly missed June of ’44. He recently made his return to Lungfish (after an initial stint in ‘95-’96); a reunion he couldn’t be more thrilled about.
“I always felt like I was in the band and that we would make music together again. I was so delighted when they asked me to help them with the new record,” he beams. “It was a really amazing dream come true, and it came true twice…”
Behind every truly independent band is a supportive record label, and Lungfish have one of the best. Dischord Records exist to document the Washington, DC underground music scene and their relationship with Lungfish has been like family, says Meadows.
“There is a ton of respect in the Lungfish camp for Dischord; the way they operate, the individual people that they are, and the collective ideal within music that they represent. It's all been said before, but there really aren't enough good things you can say about Dischord. It's been amazing for me to have an opportunity to work with them making records...”

For more info, go to: www.myspace.com/lungfishmusic