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Posts Tagged ‘Brian Wilson’

Interview: The Sonic Executive Sessions

Saturday, July 5th, 2008
There are a few requirements I have for conducting a Songs and Sonics interview with someone. Beyond enjoying the artist’s music, an ideal interview subject should have most of the following:
  • An album to sell.
  • A real web site. (A MySpace page doesn’t count.)
  • A bio.
  • A history of interviews.
  • I recently stumbled upon The Sonic Executive Sessions, who had… none of the above. But after about ten seconds of listening to their music, my unwritten rules quickly evaporated. I had to talk with these guys!
    Despite the jokey appearance of their MySpace page (complete with Anchorman references and monkey pictures), upon hearing what they do, it’s clear that the Executives are a musical force to be reckoned with. This is seriously accomplished pop, in a Steely Dan sort of way, with a strong Beach Boys undercurrent. Jellyfish fanatics, Ben Folds aficionados, and admirers of the artists parodied in the Yacht Rock video series take note: The Sonic Executive Sessions could very well be your new favorite band.
    Christian Phillips (guitar, keys, vocals, and principal songwriter), Ryan Aston (drums, percussion, and occasional backing vocals), and Tim Hamill (recording engineer, guitar, and whatever’s left) are the studio assassins with the playing, singing, writing, and recording chops that even the most staunchly low-fi indie musicians secretly wish they had.
    The Executives don’t play live. They don’t even have an album. Instead, they cut their tracks when there’s down time at Sonic One (Tim’s impressive recording facility in South Wales), and post the results on their MySpace page. In an alternate universe where the lowest common denominator doesn’t rule the mainstream, these songs would instead probably be at the top of the charts.
    Christian was my contact for this interview, and he says that any plans to release an honest-to-goodness Sonic Executive Sessions album are up in the air. If an album does happen, I have only two modest requests to ask of the band: one, please get someone to build you a real web site with a good bio, and two, let me be the first in line to purchase your CD.
    Jeff: How did you get started doing session work?
    Christian: I got into session work purely by accident. Ryan and I were in a band (The Millionaires, and we were very Beach Boys-like) that got a lot of label interest. But instead of getting a deal, we ended up as a backing band for Sony. After that happened, the work just didn’t stop. But the writing stopped for a few years.
    Did you have any formal music training?
    No. I play by ear (my dad was the original bass player in The Ivys, who became the mighty Badfinger). I wish I could read and had more knowledge of music theory — it would come in very handy for some things.
    If you can’t read music, how did you record the harmonies on your acapella covers of “Danny Boy” and “The Nearness of You?” Those are very sophisticated parts…
    I’m just lucky that I’m able to hear and explode chord progressions in my head. But I’d much rather be able to write them out. I’ll record all the parts and give the separate lines to singers to learn. Some of them will write out their own parts.
    What are some typical sessions that you do?
    Lots of children’s television. That’s fun to write for. Most of my work is writing music for TV: signature tunes, incidental music, that kind of thing.
    Which instruments do you play? Do you have a “main” instrument?
    My main instrument is guitar, and then vocals I guess. Anything else is a bit hit and miss, but I’ll try and play it if you need it — unless its violin, trumpet, or bagpipes!
    What are some of your favorite sessions you’ve done for your day gig?
    Any time I’ve had the chance to work in Abbey Road. Studio 2 is a magical place. It still looks like the Beatles are there and have just popped out for a break. You won’t believe what it’s like to actually play the Mrs. Mills piano.
    Do you, Ryan, and Tim get requests to do session work online — where you never meet or speak to the client except via e-mail?
    That’s becoming more frequent these days. Of course, it works the other way around too, where people who may have been inaccessible before are just on the end of these wires. For example, Tim recorded an album a few months back and the band had Dio to sing a few lines for them. They did it in their home studio and sent it over. Exactly like the Alessi Brothers did for us.
    Are the Alessi Brothers singing the backup vocals on “Make Do?”
    Yeah, how cool is that? I love the sound they make, and to have that happen on a song you’ve written… Amazing.
    What are the best and worst things about being a session musician?
    Best: Making a living out of what you do. Worst: Some of the awful stuff you have to work on for some of the rudest, most arrogant people you could ever meet.
    How many songs have you guys recorded as The Sonic Executive Sessions?
    About seven, I think. Not many. It tends to be like, “Tim’s got a few days free — better go write a song!”
    Could you tell me about how you wrote “17 Over You”?
    I was listening to Born to Run. Somebody gave it to me and said, “You have to listen to this — it’s Phil Spector times ten.” Not being a fan of “The Boss,” I stuck it on reluctantly — and really liked it.
    There are some lyrics in the first song, Thunder Road, that got me thinking how you can write about a person or place, and it gets frozen in that moment. Whenever we go and listen to that song at five or fifteen or fifty, the song never changes… but we do. Pet Sounds, for example, I was born listening to that. It has so many reference points in my life like when I was fifteen and used to run home from school every dinner break so I could listen to that and Spilt Milk and then run back. So that’s what made me want to write that song.
    Could you tell me about how you wrote/recorded “Cold Front?”
    I wanted to write a song where the chorus was as for away from the verse key as I could get and then get back. And make it sound easy. I don’t know if I got the last bit. Brian Wilson did this all the time.
    So that was the idea — to write a Smile-type tune with some nice modulations which turned into a Steely Dan 70’s slice of Yacht Rock. How did that happen? I guess I got carried away with the chords!
    For the recording, we got Nigel Hopkins in to play Fender Rhodes and Pablo in on bass. I like everything to be real on our songs and there was no way I was playing those parts live!
    What’s Pablo’s last name?
    He has no second name.
    One of the things I like so much about “Cold Front” is not just the song but the feel you guys establish. It’s as smooth as anything Steely Dan ever did, and maybe even a bit more fun to sing along with. Were you, Ryan, Nigel, and Pablo laying down the groove at the same time?
    No. Ryan went in first with Pablo. Nigel came in later to replace my keyboard with the real thing. You have to appreciate that I’m spoiled when it comes to these guys. They really are amazing musicians, and I’m so lucky that they live a phone call away.
    Eventually, Probyn Gregory from Brian Wilson’s band will be playing the brass on it. Can’t wait to get it finished, but he’s kind of busy at the minute.
    How do you record your background vocals? Is it all your voice, or are the other guys singing as well?
    Nope, it’s all me triple tracked. Takes about one to two hours to do, but Tim’s a patient and fantastic engineer.
    How did you get those Queen-like background vocals on Swing Low Sweet Chariot?
    Ah. You really have done your homework. That’s a bit more involved. That’s more than me. You’ve got to have four of you to recreate that sound! It takes AGES.
    Could you give a bit more detail? Is it something with your vibrato, or…?
    OK, here’s the secret. Take a four part harmony. Start on the lowest notes you can sing. All (at least three) of you sing the first part in unison. Triple track it. Sing the next part and the next and the next and the next until you can’t sing any higher. You’ll have about sixty parts or so. Play them back and its Queen. Dramatic vibrato on some parts help with the sound, but not too much because the harmony will become a bit unstable.
    Oh, and try to do it with an English accent — something us Welsh guys struggle with!
    Very cool! I never realized that’s what they’re doing, but it makes sense now.
    So… what have you been listening to lately?
    The Gabe Dixon Band… and LOADS of John Williams soundtracks. I’m scoring a film at the moment — it’s a Christmas TV movie. The budget for the music is small, so it’s just me at the Mac trying to make it sound like the London Symphony Orchestra in Abbey Road.
    What’s your favorite Yacht Rock moment?
    Perhaps the Eagles/Steely Dan episode when Michael McDonald gets a rock chucked at him. They’re all VERY FUNNY. Please don’t make me choose, Jeff!
    Do you know of any other relatively new “bands” picking up the Yacht Rock mantle in a serious way?
    No, but I bet they are out there.
    I have yet to find them… You’re the first — and only — one I know about. I suspect there aren’t many because of the musical chops required to pull it off.
    Well, maybe. I guess Toto and their ilk were and/or used a lot of studio players. So if there is a thread, it would be there on tunes like Cold Front, where I had to get guys in who can play like that.
    But it was Roger Manning from Jellyfish who dubbed us ‘Yacht Rock.’ I was a bit offended at first because I didn’t know what it was. But when we went to find out what it was, everyone I loved was there, so it stuck. I’m glad we have a bit of the Yacht in us.
    Ten things which inspire Christian Phillips
  • The sun (we don’t get it much here)
  • Anything that makes we want to try harder (Rufus Wainwright does this a lot)
  • Anything that makes me think there’s no point — may as well give it all up now (Brian Wilson does this a lot)
  • A good biography by someone who’s old enough to write one (David Niven’s The Moon’s A Balloon is a good start)
  • The fact that there is music out there that I’ll never get to hear that’s probably amazing (so I have to find it and hear it)
  • Standing on the Empire State
  • A new chord
  • Singing harmony (There’s something very special about singing with people)
  • An old cliché, but you can learn something new every day
  • Writing a list about the ten things that inspire you (A cop out… Sorry, but I ran out of ideas!)
  • The Sonic Executive Sessions MySpace page | Christian Phillips’ MySpace page (contains a couple extra songs) | Ryan Aston’s MySpace page | Tim Hamill’s MySpace page (contains a couple more Sonic Executive songs) | Sonic One recording studio

    Interview: Testbild!

    Monday, June 16th, 2008
    Testbild!While MySpace is often a fantastic place for checking out new music, the Swedish band Testbild! can’t be properly represented within that site’s conventional ADD-friendly structure. Then again, there’s very little about Testbild! that’s conventional. (Yes, there’s an exclamation point at the end of their name, and no, they don’t show their faces in their band photos.)
    Testbild!’s latest release, Une Teinte Intense, is an atmospheric concept album about adventurer Isabelle Eberhardt. Sometimes the album sounds like a Middle Eastern Free Design playing lite jazz. (!) At other times it sounds like what might’ve happened if Pink Floyd recorded an alternate soundtrack to Lawrence of Arabia.
    But even those far-out comparisons don’t quite describe what Testbild! sounds like or what the band is about. The only thing that can probably be said is that Testbild! doesn’t make background music; this is most definitely art which demands and rewards attention, preferably with a good set of headphones. And there’s some pop thrown in for good measure. If you’re willing to go along for the ride on Une Teinte Intense, the experience is one you won’t soon forget.
    Petter Herbertsson is Testbild!’s mastermind, a polite yet slightly mysterious gentleman who prefers the shadows instead of the limelight. And as you’ll see in the following interview, he’s got ideas about art, sound, and making music that differ from the norm. And if you’re as taken with Testbild!’s sound as I am, you might be able to record your own Testbild! album one of these days. What does that mean? Read on. (Studio photos by Moa Andersdotter.)
    Jeff: What made Testbild! decide to center an album around Isabelle Eberhardt?
    Petter: Well, the short answer would be that we get inspired by artistic people, or visionaries, who do exactly the opposite of what society expects of them. Further examples would be Chris Marker, William S. Burroughs, Jorge Luis Borges, Bas Jan Ader, Mike Alway, Ferdinand Cheval (the French postman that singlehandedly built a fantasy castle called Palais Idéal in his garden), Delia Derbyshire, etc., etc.
    Isabelle Eberhardt was the daughter of Russian nobles, had an anarchistic upbringing in Genève, converted to Islam, and travelled around in North Africa in the early 1900s dressed as a man. She was elected to a mystic Islamic brotherhood called Qadriya, wrote articles for French and Swiss newspapers (but weren’t allowed to return to her home, since she was considered a dangerous and subversive character by the government). And as if that wasn’t enough, she drowned at Aïn Sefra, in the middle of the desert, at the age of 27. Her life was fascinating, as was her personality. She seemed torn between her Islamic religious ideal, and her at some times wild way of life with the cross dressing, lots of alcohol and kif, etc.
    And at the same time, she was an artist by definition; her descriptions of the myriads of colours in the North African sunset is totally unique. To make a themetic album about her is simply our way of paying our dues to one of our greatest heroes.
    Testbild! studioI read that you used to send a manifesto along with an early Testbild! demo CD. Could you share what the manifesto said? Do you still follow it?
    The manifesto said that Testbild! is a band wich doesn’t profess itself to a single musical genre, that one of the main assignments should be to investigate and dwell on the relationship between pop music and sounds that could be described as noise. Total honesty was also a key conception, i.e. the music could never have a commercial purpose, and had to come from our personal musical tastes only. These things are still followed, I guess, but if we were to write a manifesto today, it would be more developed in a way. But also more or less non-existing, depending on points of view.
    We strongly believe that it’s an artist’s (artist in a broadened sense) duty to avoid clichés at all cost, to at least try to kill your darlings every now and then, to never underestimate the audience and to create something that is far beyond the music business and the establishment. On the other hand, Testbild! should be a band based on ideas of any kind; in that case you could say that the only rule is that there are no rules.
    I started the band ten years ago, because I was fed up with playing with “normal” bands where you were supposed to stick to a genre, wear a certain type of clothes, write prefab songs that people could dance to, etc. Testbild! was supposed to be the antithesis to all that.
    Back then, it was just me. Today we are at least eight members, and we’re still growing. I want Testbild! to be around when I’m dead too. I want the project to be immortal. I have suggested to other bands that they could perform as us, and do more or less exactly what they want, but so far no one has dared.
    So you’re not worried about maintaining control of your vision? You mean I could release my own album and say it’s by Testbild?
    Absolutely. The thing is, confusion is something good in our opinion. You have to keep moving forward all the time to develop as an artist, and as a human being. I may have started the project ten years ago, but at that very moment I had to resign as a leader, since the whole thing was supposed to be idea-based. You can’t have a leader if you want to be a part of something that opposes authorities and the establishment, can you? If some people decide to “kidnap” the idea, and release an album under the same name, playing indie rock in leather jackets and sunglasses, that’s a good thing too, because there is always a small chance that reviewers or journalists eventually will find out that there actually is (or was) another band with exactly the same name, with a totally different approach. And then you have a discussion, a debate on the subjects that we’re interested in.
    I’m not saying that there ever will be a debate, but anyway… I know all this sounds terribly pretentious, but that’s something we just have to accept. There used to be at least one band from Sweden calling themselves Testbild, but I’m not sure if they’re around anymore. And I know for a fact that there is a German band with the same name; I think they’re into metal stuff. There’s also a Danish collective, but they’re concentrating on video art. I contacted them about six years ago, and asked them if they thought it was a problem that we had the same name, but they were just amused.
    Testbild! studio 2What’s your studio setup?
    At my place we have Fender Rhodes, piano, electric bass, acoustic guitar, a couple of analogue synths, lute, kantele, vihuela, glockenspiel, banjo, chromatic harmonicas, melodica, violin, oud, hand drums and other percussive instruments. At Douglas’s place there’s lots of guitars (both acoustic and electric) and analogue synths, a vibraphonette and other stuff, and at the rehearsal place there’s a Wurlitzer piano and drums.
    Where do you get your “found sound” from?
    We go out on excursions in the city or in the nature where we happen to be, and just record everything we can come up with on our mini disc. We keep these recordings in what you might call sound libraries at home, and whenever we need a special kind of sound, we just look through our files.
    What’s the craziest thing you’ve done to capture a sound or create an effect on a Testbild! song?
    We’ve done some odd stuff when it comes to our field recordings. For example, I borrowed a professional microphone from my stepbrother — he’s into filmmaking, so he has incredibly expensive stuff — that was rather long, like a forearm maybe. It had a pink angora cover to protect the recordings from wind sounds, and the handle was shaped like that of a gun. I walked around at the docks in Malmö last year, recording water sounds and sea birds, and people just stared at me like I was some kind of maniac. It was summer and very hot, so imagine a sweaty guy in sunglasses, pointing a pink angora gun at everything!
    We’ve also done stuff like breaking into abandoned buildings and attics to capture the inherent sounds. There are recordings of Pontus playing accordion to cows, of Mattias playing a satellite dish with a bow, of me sitting at an old chair and moving backwards and forwards all the time to get a creaking sound, of Siri picking mushrooms in the woods, of fighting cats, etc.
    How do you decide to structure your songs? I notice that sometimes in one of Testbild!’s more conventional songs, everything will suddenly stop and break into chaos (the street noise in “The Moorish Cafe” being one example).
    Once I had the idea that every song of mine should contain an element of chance, to get a mystery feel to it. You can hear traces of that on our second album, The Inexplicable Feeling of September, but we abandoned the idea rather quickly, since it tended to limit the possibilities rather than broaden them. It turned out to be just another type of musical straitjacket or uniform that we’ve always tried to run away from. So it’s not a rule anymore. But I think it’s sometimes just a way of reasoning when you compose, like, “Now let’s see, what does this song need after the chorus — an anarchistic noise part maybe?”
    I’m also somewhat fascinated with the idea of sound that suddenly stops and changes perspective, like a meta listening. We did that a couple of times on our unreleased “real” second album The Lolita Wagner Case (to be released some time in the near future on Radio Khartoum, it’s the second part of a thematic trillogy starting with The Double Life of Testbild!). First you have a proper song. Then in the second verse, you hear someone putting on a cassette recorder, and the song continues on the tape while you hear the person breathing in the background. There are many more layers than you think. You are listening to a record, but at the same time someone is listening to you, listening to a record, and a person listening to the person who’s listening to you, listening to a record and so forth. Very John Cage indeed!
    I like this idea… very clever!
    Oh, thank you! But getting back to song structure: it’s a very delicate matter and should not be taken lightly. The key word is listening, of course. You have to listen carefully to where a melody line or a chord progression wants to go, and then the music actually writes itself. It takes a lot of time and effort, and sometimes you don’t have the patience for it, but when it happens it’s the most wonderful thing. I think you can tell when you’ve been careless about a song, but usually not until after a while.
    Do you ever see Testbild! writing a conventionally-structured song and… just letting it stay conventional because that’s what the song seems to require?
    I’m not ruling anything out, but for my own part I’m through with writing conventional songs. I’ve done that so much in the past. I guess you can see that as part of a learning process. And I should stress that it does of course happen that we write conventional stuff every now and then, but these songs are always thrown away. I don’t see the point in keeping something anybody could do; you should listen to your own inner voice instead.
    How did you record/treat the French woman’s voice to make it sound like an old movie?
    Oh you know, just fooling around with EQ to get that old, fractured sound. There was also a great deal of voice direction; the way that Katja was supposed to read the text was in a kind of slow and half whispery tone to strengthen the dream-like atmosphere.
    Testbild! studio 3Would you say Testbild! is more influenced by music or movies?
    It depends on the circumstances. I personally have an indestructible passion for great songwriters, i.e. musicians that really treat the song like the work of art it is, people like Louis Philippe, Brian Wilson, Laura Nyro, Paddy McAloon, George Gershwin or Dorothy Ashby, people who are in love with the songs they write. I want to become one of them myself, and I hope that maybe I will some day.
    On the other hand, I get obsessed with artistic ideas all the time, and perhaps it’s easier to find those in movies than in music, I don’t know. I love directors like Andrei Tarkovsky and Victor Erice; they have the aesthetics and a poetic attitude that’s very close to my own, describing the beauty, the mystery and eternal sadness of the world and its inhabitants.
    When I get obsessed with something, I have to find out everything there is about it. My latest infatuation is French film maker Chris Marker, who is mostly known for a short low budget science fiction movie from the early sixties called La Jetée, entirelly composed of black and white stills. Apparently Terry Gilliam was very influenced by this when he wrote Twelve Monkeys, with all its time travel business. But La Jetée is something completely different, of course.
    Sans Soleil, a full length movie from 1983 that is a unique and puzzling mix of documentary footage, apocalyptic science fiction, meditations on what memory is, and a highly intellectual and essay-like voiceover, is even better. Chris Marker (it is said that he took his name from a Marker pen) is an enigmatic character who’s been around the business since the fifties. He rarely gives interviews and almost never shows his face. The images of him that exist has him most of the time standing behind a camera, and nowadays he’s been known to send pictures of his cat Guillaume to journalists who contact him.
    Speaking of never showing your face… Your web site, MySpace page, and latest CD are devoid of normal band pictures; if your faces are shown, they’re always hidden or obscured. The one live video (is it lip-synced?) from your MySpace page has the band behind a video projection screen.
    You’ve obviously taken a Residents-like approach to band photos, yet — correct me if I’m wrong — that’s your face singing in Testbild’s “ENIAC vs. UNIVAC” video. So the cat’s out of the bag, at least as far what you look like. Why bother hiding now?
    First of all: that’s not me in the video, it’s a friend of director Angelique Clark. I don’t remember his name, but I think Alexander Bailey (of our American record company Radio Khartoum) mentioned that he actually is Scandinavian, and I guess he was chosen to play the part because he looked like our friend Magnus Löfgren (the guy impersonating ENIAC and UNIVAC on the cover of the first album).
    You won’t find any pictures of me anywhere, not of the band with uncovered faces either, and there are no pictures of the whole band together. On the other hand, there are images of several of the other members out there (most of them have other musical projects on the side), so I guess you could cut them out and make little Testbild! collages of your own…
    We chose to have it this way for many reasons; one is to emphasize the fact that it’s all idea-based, and that no member is more important than the other. In our modern society, you tend to put focus on the artist rather than his or her work, which is a rather twisted way of looking at things. So that’s of course something we want to protest against. The fact that we sometimes use anagrams instead of our real names is another manifestation of these thoughts.
    What’s next for Testbild?
    We have an album coming up in September, it’s called Aquatint, and will hopefully be our most conceptual piece yet. Apart from the music and lyrics, there’ll be a movie and a short story. And if everything goes as planned, the nice digipak will smell of tar.
    Tar?!? How do you manage to get a specific smell manufactured into your CDs, let alone tar?
    Well, apparently we have to do it ourselves by hand, so it all depends on if we get the CD’s before they’re sent out to the shops or not, I’m not sure about these things.
    Anyway, we’re still working with Bed Stilt, our orchestral and apocalyptic third part of the trillogy I mentioned earlier, an album about Belka and Strelka (the two Russian space dogs from the sixties that actually came back alive) and other things. Oh, and we’re supposed to go on a small tour in Sweden and Denmark in August. We like to keep busy!
    10 things that inspire Petter Herbertsson from Testbild!
  • The seaside. Everything about it really, water, boats, lighthouses, sand, shaped rocks, fishes, the horizon, the smells and sounds.
  • Rain. The sound the raindrops make, and just the plain fact that there’s actually water coming down from the sky.
  • Coloured lamps hung in the trees on summer evenings (is it called Chinese lanterns in English?).
  • Shortwave radio. I can sit and turn the knob backwards and forwards for hours, the sound has a completely absorbing effect on me.
  • Used copies of The National Geographic Magazine, preferably from the sixties and seventies. Older copies is OK as well, but never newer.
  • Foxes. Red foxes, that is. It’s been my favourite animal since I was a child, and I used to dream of them all the time when I was in my early twenties, I even dreamt that I had this fox alter ego, called Kani. I guess you could call the fox my totem if you’re into new age mumbo jumbo stuff (god knows I’m not).
  • The night sky and the stars.
  • Dreams. I find it eternally fascinating that ones subconscious is crammed with poetic images and abstract art. I used to have this dream diary where I wrote down everything; many passages in the lyrics and stories are taken from there. I’ve been neglectful to it lately though, maybe I should start again.
  • Old libraries and dusty archives. I’m a librarian by profession, and have always loved the somewhat archetypal idea of a forgotten, hidden room somewhere in the basement of a public building, stuffed with old books and files with subversive information.
  • Tea. Preferably Lapsang Souchong or Russian Earl Grey.
  • Testbild’s web site | Testbild’s MySpace page | Buy “Une Teinte Intense” from Friendly Noise (Sweden) | Buy “Une Teinte Intense” from Amazon

    Interview: Margo Guryan

    Sunday, May 25th, 2008
    Margo GuryanIf you’re a late ’60s sunshine pop fan, you’re in for a treat.
    Margo Guryan was a well-educated jazz pianist in the mid-’60s when a friend played her the song God Only Knows, from The Beach Boys‘ (then) brand-new album, Pet Sounds. That one song altered her musical direction permanently:
    “I thought it was just gorgeous. I bought the record and played it a million times, then sat down and wrote Think of Rain. That’s really how I started writing that way. I just decided it was better than what was happening in jazz.”
    She became a full-fledged pop songwriter, and her songs were covered by the likes of Jackie DeShannon, Mama Cass, Glen Campbell, Astrud Gilberto, Claudine Longet, Julie London, Spanky And Our Gang, Dion, Harry Nilsson, and others.
    In 1968, Margo was given the opportunity to record an album of her own songs. The result, Take A Picture, is a collection of solid Brian Wilson-influenced pop, jazzy psychedelic grooves, and sweetly sung vocals. “I never thought of myself as a singer,” Margo says. But her breathy, multitracked babydoll vocals are made of the stuff that make men swoon, even 40 years after it was recorded.
    Unfortunately, because of Margo’s refusal to perform live, Take A Picture went nowhere. No followup albums were released. Margo eventually became a piano teacher.
    But about 30 years after Take A Picture’s original release, something unusual happened: Japanese record collectors discovered it. And subsequently went wild over the album.
    One thing led to another, and Take A Picture was reissued on CD multiple times in several countries. Bonus tracks were unearthed. A companion album of unreleased recordings, 25 Demos, surfaced in 2001. Accolades from modern pop stars, like Beck and Garbage’s Shirley Manson followed.
    And Take A Picture, the little album that hardly anybody paid attention to in 1968, is now widely regarded as a sunshine pop classic.
    A chance MySpace encounter led me to asking Margo if she’d like to do an interview for Songs and Sonics. However, just as I was about to send a list of questions, I stumbled across this excellent recorded interview which covered nearly everything I was about to ask! So, armed with this new information, I went back to the drawing board and promised I would ask her “different” questions which were not covered before. In the following interview, we cover both her ’60s work and her return to releasing pop music with her political 2007 single, 16 Words.
    Jeff: Why do you think your “Take A Picture” album resonated so strongly in Japan, some 30 years after it was released?
    Margo: I really don’t know. Take A Picture has been released three times in Japan, the latest being on Sony/BMG. The first release in the late ’90s came as a complete surprise.
    The reason I ask is because, culturally, Japan seems to have a strong appreciation for pop music. I’ve heard of bands who have larger fan bases in Japan than they have in their native country, but I have yet to understand the reasons why.
    I’d really love to know how this started. One day (1998, 1999) David [Rosner, Margo's publisher and husband] received a call from a guy at a small label called Distortions Records. He wanted to re-release Take A Picture because he catered to record collectors and said my album was a frequent request. He said, “Margo’s a star in Japan.” We thought it was pretty weird and David told him to get in touch with Arista (the former Bell Records).
    Sometime later, David received a publishing royalty statement from Japan and noticed that all the songs listed were from “TAP.” That’s when we found out a “pirate” version of the album had been issued. I was happy about that, because up until that time, I had only an old-fashioned LP of my record. Now I had a CD…. Wow! I wrote to the company to ask if I could purchase some copies at a publisher’s discount. They responded that they were all sold out, but would send me their last copy for free.
    That, to our knowledge, is how it started. Then Cornelius, a Japanese recording artist who had a label, wanted to release it. That was the Trattoria release.
    But, Jeff, that’s just how we found out. Though David has sub-publishers and other contacts in Japan, we have never been able to learn why it happened.
    You said that there’s a demand in Japan and Korea for unreleased photos and memorabilia from your brief recording career in the ’60s. You’re getting a lot of attention from what you accomplished forty years ago, yet you’re still recording the occasional song today. Do you feel like you’re living a “parallel life” with who you were in 1968?
    I don’t feel I’m living a “parallel life”… it’s the same one. I’ve always written words and music (and words & music) as ideas occur. There was a long period of time when I felt no connection with pop music. I began studying piano again, then teaching. I wrote just words then, or just music (The Chopsticks Variations is a piano piece I wrote for my “kids”.)
    You stopped writing pop music in the early ’80s. When did you start back up?
    I guess The Chopsticks Variations might have been the next thing I wrote (in the ’90s). In teaching Mozart’s variations on Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (Ah, vous dirai je, maman), I found that children loved to play something that was familiar to them.
    Anyway, I wondered what I could write that children would know and relate to. The easier variations, as written, have Chopsticks in one hand while the other makes it become a simple piece… Easy to learn!
    The impetus for 16 Words began, I think, while reading Joe Wilson’s Politics of Truth. Those words were also prominently featured in Frank Rich’s The Greatest Story Ever Sold. It occurred to me that that lie was representative of all the lies the Bush administration spouted to get us into the Iraq war, wire-tap Americans, torture, etc., etc. And I thought I’d write music to it.
    Have you experienced any controversy over “16 Words”? That’s a pretty gutsy song to write. (Catchy, too.)
    Well, look at the comments on YouTube. There are obviously some people who didn’t like it.
    You have a strong sense of craft in your songs — solid melodies, sophisticated harmonic structure, no false rhymes, etc. How did you learn to write songs?
    When I was a child, I “made up” poems. As I learned music (I began piano study at age 6), I “made up” songs. My models were the songs I heard, and the songwriters were usually good ones (Cole Porter, Rodgers & Hart, etc.). You absorb form and style (the words always rhymed) when you’re a kid. I was encouraged by my parents (there were only hand-made greeting cards in my home) in every creative field (took art lessons, dance lessons, etc.). But my father once told me, “Songs like yours are a dime a dozen.” He changed his tune after Chris Connor recorded a song of mine (Moon Ride) on Atlantic Records!
    Margo GuryanWhat’s your usual songwriting process?
    I think all writing begins with an idea… a thought, word fragments, a snippet of melody. I’d go to the piano and (more or less) let it happen.
    Where do you think your ideas come from?
    My father once asked me if I could make myself get an idea. I said, “No.” He said, “That’s God.” I thought that was interesting, but I don’t really buy it. You’d have to be some kind of brain surgeon to even begin to understand where ideas come from.
    What’s the story behind “Thoughts?” The narrator’s voice in that song is surprisingly direct — particularly the “ho hum” line.
    The “idea” for Thoughts was to write a song containing only two-word phrases. The answer section and vocal backgrounds in the bridge occurred while recording.
    Could the “makin’ love” line be considered risqué for 1968?
    I thought at the time that Sunday Morning was much more risqué: do what other people do on Sunday morning. But no one else seemed to think so.
    I didn’t recognize that line as risqué until you mentioned it… Now I’m trying to think of other dirty lines in your songs that I might’ve missed!
    Keep looking.
    Why is there that (bachelor?) party noise during “What Can I Give You?”
    Just for fun, actually. If you listen to that song in demo form (25 Demos) you won’t find the burlesque atmosphere. I wanted to write an old-timey song a la Harry Nilsson. I think the crowd was (producer) John Hill’s idea. Gave me a chance to invite some friends and relatives into the studio. The whistle belongs to GayeAnn, my cousin Peter’s wife. None of the guys could match her construction worker gusto!
    Do you recall how you wrote “Can You Tell?”
    Nothing mysterious or arcane about this one! It’s exactly what it claims to be: telling someone who was a good friend that a change had occurred. (I married him.)
    That’s great!
    Still is!
    Margo GuryanWhat have you been listening to lately on your iPod/CD player/turntable?
    Ooh…cornered. I don’t have an iPod. I listen to Thom Hartmann and Randi Rhodes and watch Keith Olbermann. I do check out some of the music posted on MySpace and have found occasional gems.
    Can you give a MySpace recommendation?
    There’s a song I love on the 20 Minute Loop page. I think it’s called Ambassadors.
    Your “16 Words” single was released last year. Does this mean there is a new Margo Guryan album in the works?
    This is “iffy.” I had recorded 5 tracks when the idea for 16 Words hit me. I wanted very much to finish that song first. While working on it, one co-producer left and John Hill helped finish it up. Then John left for the East coast. John had written some gorgeous string parts for a few of the other tracks and I didn’t want to proceed without him. I may decide to finish them up… and may not. Don’t know.
    What’s one thing that your fans did not know about you — until now?
    I don’t like rites! I never wanted to get married, I just wanted to be married. I don’t like funerals… gone is gone. A diploma is great, but graduations are a bore. Awards are nice, but earning the award is where the satisfaction is. I’ll do without the ceremonies, thanks.
    It’s been a pleasure chatting with you, Margo!
    Thanks, Jeff… You too! Good (and different) questions!
    10 things that inspire Margo Guryan
  • A child doing anything well.
  • Discovering a new Bach or Scarlatti piece.
  • Discovering an old Randy Newman song.
  • Barack Obama.
  • Learning a mystery’s solution.
  • Dreams. (But only good ones.)
  • Surprises. (But only good ones.)
  • Watching kittens play.
  • Seeing a great performance.
  • Silence. (Especially at the dinner table when I’ve prepared the dinner.)
  • Margo Guryan’s official web site | Margo Guryan’s MySpace page | Order “Take A Picture” or “25 Demos” | Order “16 Words”

    Interview: Louis Philippe

    Thursday, May 8th, 2008
    His career as a professional recording artist spans over 20 years, his Wikipedia entry calls him one of the “elder statesmen of indiepop,” and he’s worked with laundry list of distinguished artists, including The Clientele, The High Llamas, and former XTC guitarist Dave Gregory.
    Louis PhilippeLouis Philippe (real name Philippe Auclair) is a unique figure on the pop music landscape. He has the ear of a seasoned orchestral arranger, yet is musically self-taught. (Anyone with an interest in arranging should check out his excellent blog post on writing for strings.) He crafts sophisticated tunes which pay their respects to the shrine of Pet Sounds, but his music is gentler than anything on that album. And, as you’ll discover in the following interview, he doesn’t employ the methods that a typical pop songwriter might use when capturing ideas.
    Elegant is the word that most often comes to mind when listening to Louis Philippe’s latest album, An Unknown Spring. The songs are highly literate, delicately arranged, and supplemented with real orchestral instruments. Make no mistake — this is indeed pop music. It’s just smarter and a little quieter than what typically falls under the pop umbrella. There’s no screaming guitars, no trace of the modern loudness wars. Instead, An Unknown Spring boasts an intriguing mix of confessional songwriting, Brill Building-like pop craftsmanship, and cinematic but intimate orchestral arrangements. And then there’s Louis’s angelic vocals soaring over top of it all.
    Not only does Louis make great music, but he gives great interviews too.
    Jeff: Could you provide a little bit of context to “An Unknown Spring?” What were you looking to accomplish this time out?
    Louis: I’d become quite disillusioned, to put it mildly, with what I was hearing around me; most of it seemed very reactionary to my ears, beat-and groove-driven, with hardly any attention paid to melody and harmony in any sense of these words. I wanted to see if I could get closer to my ambition of writing pop lieder, in which repetition would be a device used with far greater economy that is the norm (including in my own work). By the way, this was not a choice as such; it’s the music I was hearing in my mind and that coming out when I walked in the street or sat at the piano. It’s something I’ve been atrracted to ever since Danny Manners and I worked on our album of Poulenc mélodies. When the songs started to take shape, I noticed that my writing had evolved towards more evolutive lines, more fluid harmonies. It was more a matter of going with a natural, ‘organic’ flow than a decision as such.
    The analytical process took place afterwards, if you see what I mean, when I had to build the record in Ken Brake’s studio. Another thing: the form of the songs, and the curve of the album were also influenced by a personal necessity: sing a body of songs which would have a common emotional colour, and a very tender one at that. There is hardly any place for tenderness in pop these days, whereas it is ever-present in the music I love. Nostalgia too.
    What made you use the weather as a theme throughout the album? Did you start off with that idea, or was it something that came about later on?
    I guess this is more of a constant in what I’ve done over the years than a “new” inclination. I couldn’t say if it is a theme as such… Maybe it’s an echo of Ray Davies’s obsession with weather in albums like Face to Face and Something Else (and Village Green, of course!). Do you think it has to do with living in a country where we experience four seasons in a day? And a clue — every time “spring” is used (and it is quite a few times), it is in all its meanings. What you said about the weather could also be said about water.
    What was the story behind “When The Love Has Gone?” That song is a stunner.
    Do you mind if I bat this one out of the park? It would be a bit like answering a question like, “How often do you have sex?” But there isn’t a line in this song that doesn’t come from very, very deep within me. “You’re a clock without a hand, a broken shell turning to sand” — when love has gone, death asserts itself.
    One thing that’s so appealing about this song is how it uses some very classic “pop” conventions in the way it’s written, yet on the other hand doesn’t feel like artifice. It’s almost as if the Temptations’ “The Way You Do the Things You Do” were twisted into an intensely personal statement of loss.
    This is a very flattering thing to say — so much so I’m not sure what to add to it. One thing I remember about writing this song is that I first “heard” the first verse in its entirety, lead line, chords and lyrics all together, something that is (alas) very rare… Don’t forget that the one dream I’ll never fulfill is to be a Brill Building songwriter, banging on the piano from 9 to 5 with the divine Carole King for a neighbour, and looking forward to present a demo to Jackie DeShannon (at which point I made my excuses and left).
    I’ve noticed that your arrangements are about as sparse as an arrangement can be, yet are very colorful, if that makes any sense. In your mind’s eye, do you see instrument sounds as colors? Do you have a general philosophy of arranging?
    Spot on as far as colours are concerned.
    Would you say that you have synesthesia?
    I most certainly don’t. I find understanding what Olivier Messiaen said about the purpleness of certain tonalities an impossible task.
    The reason I ask is because when I listen to something like “Fallen Snow,” the bright drum machine sounds (and the scraping, shaker-like sound in the background) have a white, snow-like color in my mind’s eye. In fact, it’s almost shocking to hear that sort of color at that point in the album. There are other examples on “An Unknown Spring” where it seems that the instrument choices and combinations were almost illustrating the lyrics.
    That is different. Yes, the combination of the two CR78s is actually meant to reflect the “snowishness” of the snow, the precision of the crystal structures, with its peaks and radiating spikes. As to the adequation of sound and instruments to lyrics, absolutely — very much the arranger’s prerogative. Are we sounding a bit pseud-ish here? Who cares? I’m trying to think of another example… You’d have the french horn on Wild-Eyed and Disheveled, a very sylvian instrument, which seemed appropriate when thinking of the America that Scottish crofters discovered when they landed in Nova Scotia; and the “surf” organ in the same track, a sonic hello to God, i.e. Brian Wilson.
    The sparseness is out of fidelity to one of my guiding principles as an arranger: economy. The arranger’s work should consist of taking out as much as needs to be done; ideas can be like weeds, and proliferate to the point when they negate each other’s beauty. I was listening to Ravel’s L’Enfant et les sortilèges a couple of nights ago — and I defy you to find one note that is not “needed” in this luxurious score. As Poulenc said, “I’m not Ravel, unfortunately”; but what was good for him (and how) has got to be good for a minor craftsman like me.
    The other thing is: I hear my songs in orchestrated form, not as lead line/chords compounds. It’s a great asset — until you realise to need to work like mad to unravel what is played in your mind’s ear. As an arranger, I do not have a philosophy as such; the work I’ve done for bands like The Clientele or, very recently, Humbert Humbert (a very good Japanese “psych-folk” duet) bears little relation to the way I work on my own material. With other artists, my role is to enhance colours (sometimes find some when there are very few), to enrich the harmonic patterns, draw out the most arresting lines, embellish, whilst remaining in the background; a matter of technique as much as anything. With myself, as songs do ‘come out’ in already-arranged form, it’s a question of finding means to execute what’s been found. In any case, one priority doesn’t change: less is definitely more.
    On “The Hill and the Valley,” how did you record the background vocals? They kind of float in midair in a very pleasant way.
    All background vocals on that particular song were recorded part-by-part with three singers singing in straight octaves or unison: Alasdair and Mel of The Clientele, plus me. Each of the four parts was triple-tracked, using a very transparent reverb. There was no use of Auto-Tune or any other gizmo… It’s just the way our three voices combine! We only used a “special effect” on two songs of the album: we put the background vocals to Fallen Snow through an old AC30, whacking the tremolo by hand as we were laying the tracks; and Ken processed the background vocals to An Unknown Spring (the song) through a reverse-reverb plug-in. Other than that, the sound of these harmonies was the result of coaching Al and Mel through their parts, and not just pitch-wise. I’m very pleased with the ghostly chromatic line you can hear, and not hear at the same time, in the bridge. It’s done entirely by multi-tracking my voice, but singing “as a trombone” (can’t put it any other way — a vocal technique I also use in Toi le coeur de la rose) — great fun to do.
    You’ve recorded — correct me if I’m wrong — 16 albums since 1985. Do you ever feel as if your songwriting ideas might dry up one day? Where do you find the inspiration for writing the next album?
    Is it 16? You’re probably right. I feel like this after every single record! It’s horrible.
    An Unknown SpringPaddy McAloon had a trick to get over this sense of vertigo you cannot fail to feel when you finish an album. “I’ll never write another line as good as this,” etc. He always kept 3 of the most striking songs he’d written in a kind of musical savings account, if you will! Like a greedy child who puts away the best bits of his meal to have a special mouthful to look forward to (Yes, used to do it). That way, Paddy knew that, should he stumble and have to face a bad case of writer’s block, he’d have something to lean on, a springboard for new songs.
    That’s terrific. I like that.
    I felt awful after An Unknown Spring, totally dried out, an old jellyfish stranded on a not particularly clean beach… My remedy against this type of hangover hasn’t changed: keep to the discipline of writing, every day, carry on, even if you come out with rubbish; at one point, it’ll click.
    Further than that… Arnold Schoenberg used to tell this story about a caterpillar who was asked by an ant: “How do you manage to move all these legs at the same time?” The caterpillar stopped and thought: “Yes, how do I do it?” And it thought for so long, and got so confused, that it never moved again.
    Ha! So is it dangerous for us to be talking about songwriting?
    It can be. Every song I write is an attempt to bring a particularly intense experience out of the memory, and give it a shape in the timelessness of music. It is already a very narcissistic process, you see.
    What’s your daily writing routine like?
    I’ll probably sit at the piano for a couple of hours every day, mostly in the evening. Playing through bits and bobs I’ve already “found,” refining the harmonies, and, crucially for me, the scansion (almost a lost art form these days). I’ll stand up and walk about, trying to listen to the mind’s ear, and find what I’m doing wrong in transcribing what I’m hearing. I’ll do a lot of work in the street too, walking, shopping, whatever. This may explain why the beat my songs have slowed down in recent years; I’m a more sedate walker than I used to be.
    How much do you keep and how much do you throw away?
    I hardly throw anything away, inasmuch I’ll keep a score of everything (I’ve never used dictaphones or portable recorders, and don’t own any form of recording equipment — pen and paper always), and rummage through the lot from time to time. It might just be that a 4-bar sequence, which was originally the first draft of a verse, and led to nothing, might provide me with just the bridge I was looking for.
    Did you know Roy Orbison combined three different songs to create Only the Lonely? And may I just add that I still haven’t got over what his death has robbed us of? This man was more than a genius, he was an angel.
    In another interview, you said, “I am part of a resistance movement within (a loose word) pop music; the values I stand for go against what I see around me.” What are some of the values you stand for, and who are some other artists you enjoy who share some of those values?
    The most important one is: do what you do out of a personal sense of necessity. Then here a few others: never underestimate your audience. Be daring. Don’t be afraid to be naked in front of your listeners, lay yourself bare, until it hurts. Have the spontaneity of a lover, the meticulosity of a craftsman. People like Sean O’Hagan and Bertrand Burgalat are brothers to me, if you need names. But the resistance movement is growing all the time. Think of Testbild!, the Swedish band, The Lionheart Brothers, King Creosote, Brian Campeau
    One confession: I hate ROCK. (love rock ‘n roll, though — the Burnette Trio, Buddy Holly, John Fogerty). I despise every single “value” which is attached to “rock,” in the Bruce Springsteen sense. We’ve just lost four readers.
    No, I’m pretty sure they can handle it.
    Good.
    Speaking of hating rock… On your web site, you list The Captain and Tenille’s “Love Will Keep Us Together” as one of your top 101 singles of all time. I believe you’re the first person I’ve ever talked to who feels the same way about this record as I do. Could you please explain what you see as the brilliance behind this track? I’m often at a loss when defending it to others.
    The drive of that track is phenomenal. Just phenomenal. That bass line, good grief… It’s just perfection. Born out of precious stone like Venus emerging fully-formed from the ocean. It has a certainty about it that is akin to the certainty of loving and being loved by someone. A statement that is irrefutable, undeniable, which makes you feel drunk.
    I first heard that song in 1974, in my father’s car. We were going through a forest in the Auvergne. I still remember the light of the sun exploding on the leaves.
    That song was one of the first 45s I remember having as a kid. I suspect everything I’ve done since then is subconsciously building up toward remaking that record — or at least attempting to recapture the joy in those grooves. I know from reading your other interviews that you love “Pet Sounds,” but are there any other records that you feel are a subconscious driving force in your own work?
    Yes, and there are many. Duke Ellington’s Perfume Suite. All of Ravel. Sibelius’s symphonies… then the Easybeats! Bobby Fuller (Never To Be Forgotten, wow)… Rock Bottom. I am haunted! But The ZombiesOdessey & Oracle has, in many ways, had a more direct impact of my way of working than Pet Sounds or any other album. Odyssey is almost something I could conceive myself “equalling,” if you see what I mean (I should be so lucky…), whereas Pet Sounds is a miracle that can’t and won’t be replicated.
    I’ve just realised I haven’t mentioned Burt Bacharach. Probably because his presence feels so natural that I don’t even realise it. Sonically, and harmonically speaking, no one, not even Brian Wilson, had had and has as much of an influence on me than Burt has.
    What are some of your upcoming projects?
    Christ — a book, which I need to finish by August. A track for a Joe Raposo tribute album (to be recorded), another for an album dedicated to the memory of Keith Girdler, the Blueboy singer who passed away so tragically a few months ago. Work on Stuart Moxham’s new album (the demos are pure gold); a gig at a festival in Bremen on July the 2nd; another one, hopefully, at the Rip It Up festival in Sweden later on in the summer; knocking into shape the 15-20 songs that will comprise my new solo album; kick-start my own label (Wonder Records) for good with a compilation; help Cathal Coughlan do a new CD; have some rest, some time in the future. A long way away.
    Hey — I’m going to be on that Raposo tribute album too! Could you share which song you’re covering, or is that a secret?
    Still a secret; in fact, I’m still hesitating between 3 or 4. And it’ll be an instrumental!
    What’s the book about?
    THAT is still a secret! Publication date is February 2009.
    What are the best and worst things about being a recording artist today compared to when you were starting out?
    The best bar none is the unbelievable flexibility, and cheapness of modern digital recording technology. An Unknown Spring hardly cost more to make than my first proper studio album for él/Cherry Red in 1986…and that one (Appointment with Venus) was one of the cheapest ever recorded. Then, the community web sites, MySpace in particular, thanks to which it is now possible to initiate collaborations with almost anyone you care for, and have brought about a tightening of the emotional bond between artist and fan.
    The worst… Where to start? The collapse of independent distribution networks, which was a catastrophe in England in particular; the disappearance of “mid-market” recording studios, and of the fabulous craftsmen and engineers who worked in this environment when I started out. There are very few “ears” left in the business today, believe me. The total utter bullshit that is mainstream “independent” music today, with its reactionary music, its vapid acts, its fucked-up obsession with “the new” which almost always turns out to be very old. The unavoidable death of the album format because of the MP3 downloads dictatorship; the cowardly attitude of 99.9% of the music media, or of what’s left of them. I need a drink.
    Thanks, Louis — it’s been great talking with you!
    It’s not every day that someone asks you about synesthesia. You certainly won’t read about it in Mojo. So thank you too, Jeff, it’s been an absolute pleasure.
    10 (or perhaps 11) things that inspire Louis Philippe
  • Love, and memories of love.
  • Memory, precisely.
  • The generosity of Francis Poulenc.
  • Pet Sounds, forever.
  • Odessey and Oracle, for as long as Pet Sounds.
  • Horace Silver’s piano playing.
  • Robert Wyatt’s voice.
  • The sea.
  • My hatred of violence, in any form.
  • The poems of Philip Larkin.
  • Love, again.
  • Louis Philippe’s web site | Louis Philippe’s MySpace page | Order “An Unknown Spring”

    Interview: Postal Blue

    Monday, April 28th, 2008
    Wait, they’re from where?
    Adriano RibeiroPostal Blue is proof that, in the age of the internet, it’s optional whether you sound like your home base’s music scene. Aside from the sole Portuguese track on their latest EP, Road to Happiness, if you close your eyes when listening to Postal Blue, you’ll swear that their chimey guitar pop is from some sleepy overcast town in the UK, not from the tropics of Brazil. Fans of The Smiths and Echo and The Bunnymen would be wise to check them out. Heck, it’s only a mouse click away! You can go right to Postal Blue’s Last.fm page and listen to almost everything they’ve officially released.
    Today I’m talking with Adriano Ribeiro, lead singer, songwriter, and one of the guitarists in Postal Blue. Adriano’s blog, Confessions of a Nearly Starving Artist, is a fine read about being a recording artist and making music. It’s one of my daily web visits.
    Jeff: Tell me a little about how Postal Blue got started, where you’ve been, and what you’re up to now.
    Adriano: I’d been in a band for many years with André [Costa] (our drummer) and former Postal Blue guitarist Alessandro. We decided to start a new band, and André brought in Ismael [Braz] to play bass.
    We teamed up around late 1997 or early 1998, and immediately started working on the songs that would later be our first ep (Postal Blue) on Drive-In Records. A couple of those early songs made the way into our latest EP. Those are I Took The Love You Were Hiding and I’m Glad You Know.
    After the first EP, we signed with Shelflife Records for another EP and an album, which were Weather Sensitive and International Breeze respectively. Even though Alessandro was in the band when we wrote the songs for the album, he left just before we started recording it, so Francinalto [Lacerda] filled his spot from then on. The album was followed by our last EP, released by Humblebee Recordings, called Road to Happiness.
    We’re currently on a break, gathering inspiration and recharging batteries for a new album, which is supposed to be our “White Album.” Lots of songs and plenty of experiments in pop. We also have a single coming out on Cloudberry Records pretty soon.
    I see that you’re releasing songs on your Confessions of a Nearly Starving Artist blog as Postal Blue, but you’re usually playing all the instruments. What’s the story? Is the band still together?
    The band is not officially kaput, and we might as well get together to rehearse and record next week, provided we can get the stars properly aligned.
    Having said that, I am putting up songs on my blog under the name Postal Blue because they’re mostly demo recordings of songs we are going to re-record and rearrange at some point in the future. But I am writing and recording them on my own. It’s mainly a way to force myself to produce something regularly, and to gain input from listeners while I’m still writing the songs.
    Where did the name Postal Blue come from?
    It’s my favorite color.
    How is Road to Happiness different from your previous releases?
    Postal BlueIt’s a more straightforward record with proper pop songs, as opposed to our album where we did a lot of experimenting with moods and song structures. Production-wise, it’s just us playing the songs as we do during band practice too, with barely any overdubs and not much in the way of synths and samples. The only exception is the last song (I’m Glad You Know), which called for a different approach.
    That track has a very different sound compared to what came before it. It’s much more pastoral, and you’re using string and piano sounds. Is this the start of a new direction for Postal Blue, an experiment, or…?
    It’s more of a look back into our past, when we did a lot of that kind of thing. I do like to do tracks like that a lot and it’s definitely not the last time you’ll hear me torture a piano.
    What was the process for writing songs on Road to Happiness?
    The songs that were written specifically for that EP were The World Doesn’t Need You, It Won’t Last, and Vou Deixar Pra Depois. You can tell that by the fact that they share very similar structures.
    The process was the usual: I’d come up with a vocal melody and chord progression, and we’d go from there. Words were added last, some during recording, like in Vou Deixar Pra Depois, which only I knew was going to be in Portuguese.
    Regarding lyrics — do you leave your lyrics vague enough to be open to interpretation, are you telling specific stories that you want to get across, are you throwing ideas together and seeing what sticks..?
    A bit of each. It varies a lot. I go from writing stories (I Know Where Your Dreams Go) to just using free association to see what comes up (Vou Deixar Pra Depois)
    Adriano RibeiroSome lyrics are very heartfelt, like in The World Doesn’t Need You, Asleep, and Weather Sensitive, while others, which I won’t name, are just vague lines that sound complimentary to the instrumentation. I get a little Liz Fraser-y sometimes.
    Where do you record?
    We record everything in my apartment. You can hear my place’s ambience on a lot of our records, and it doesn’t sound pretty, I’m afraid. I do all the mixing too, though I’m not very good at it yet.
    How do you manage to record drums and guitars in an apartment? Do you get complaints from the neighbors?
    Oh, I forgot to mention that drums are tracked at a friend’s studio, but the equipment used is all ours. I pack my computer and mics to the studio, and we do drums there.
    Guitars are tracked at home. I never got any complaints. I record at a pretty low volume by most standards, even distorted guitars.
    You capture some very nice clean electric guitar sounds. How do you do it?
    I never use dynamic mics. I always reach for a condenser to mic guitar amps. Either a large diaphragm condenser, when I want the track to carry the song or a small diaphragm condenser for most other tracks. It varies, though. I try a couple of mics for each track in each song to see what works best for that specific guitar sound and tone range.
    The intro to The World Doesn’t Need You was recorded through an MXL 603 small diaphragm condenser, while the guitar at the ending of I’m Glad You Know was done with a Studio Projects C3 large diaphragm condenser.
    It also helps to get the exact sound you want, so you don’t have to mess with it in the mix, adding eq and compression after the fact. The only exception is reverb.
    What’s next for Postal Blue?
    Besides the upcoming single on Cloudberry Records, we’re planning to self-release an album pretty soon. We already have plenty of songs, we just need to record them properly.
    If money and reality were no object, what would you love to do, musically-speaking?
    If money were no object, I’d love to record with an orchestra, and tour all over the world (not necessarily with an orchestra, mind you).
    If reality were no object, I’d love to collaborate with the likes of Brian Wilson and Tom Jobim, if anything at least to learn how they worked and pick their brain. And maybe go back to 15 years ago armed with all the knowledge I have now.
    10 Things that inspire Adriano Ribeiro
  • Good music
  • Good books
  • New guitars (not necessarily good)
  • Learning new things, be it music theory or recording techniques
  • Playing with other people
  • Rainy days
  • Happy days (yes, I’m a guy who actually likes to make music when I’m happy, not when I’m depressed)
  • Good movies
  • Bad music
  • Playing by myself
  • Postal Blue’s web site | Postal Blue’s MySpace page | Postal Blue’s Last.fm page

    Interview: Mister Fusty

    Thursday, March 27th, 2008

    Mister Fusty is not your ordinary electronica. The brainchild of UK-based Rob Gibson, Mister Fusty pulls sounds reminicent of ’60s sunshine pop and wraps it in glowing electronic blips and bloops.

    There’s a distinctly British sensibility to quirky, bouncy instrumental tunes like “Saturday,” “Mavis Enderby,” and “Tiger Jones.” The music is often reminicent of a peaceful vacation in the English countryside… That is, if the countryside were overrun by robots.

    Mister Fusty’s 2007 full-length, Sparkly Darkly, consists of twelve ethereal, slightly funky tracks sounding much like what the title promises. Sprung, a new, freely downloadable EP, stretches the Mister Fusty sound in different, intriguing directions. In this interview, Rob reveals his creative process in crafting his electronic pop gems, plus makes a surprising admission.

    Jeff: Tell me a little about how you got started as a musician and how Mister Fusty came to be.

    Rob: I used to be a drummer, many years ago, in a band with friends. The reason I ended up as a drummer was purely because my friends roped me in because they couldn’t find anyone else! We were around for a few years and played a lot of gigs locally - then I relocated to Liverpool, so that was the end of my drumming career! I was actually a guitar player, so it was a bit frustrating being sat on the drums! For a brief period, I was rhythm guitar in a covers band, playing Hamburg-era Beatles rock ‘n roll. The band is still going, but as the rest of the band came from another part of the country, it was hard for me to rehearse, so I gave that up.

    Ever since I got a computer about nine or ten years ago I’d always sought out bits of music software, mainly playing around seeing what I could come up with. It was always a hobby and I rarely played my stuff to other people. It wasn’t until the software got better, and I got more adept at using it, that I started impressing other people I played the songs to. I wondered what to do with the stuff I was making. I started discovering sites like MySpace, where it was easy for people to hear my music, and then sites like CDBaby, which made it really straightforward to put your own music out — even if you weren’t on a label. So I decided to challenge myself and do a whole album, mostly just as an experiment to see how easy it could be and to see if I could actually do it.

    Where did the name Mister Fusty come from?

    It was a nickname given to me by my girlfriend once on a holiday in Prague, although I can’t quite remember why she called me that! It stuck anyway and it seemed a good name to go under. I didn’t want to put stuff out under my own name, mostly due to being a bit coy, but also Mister Fusty doesn’t have to be one individual, it could be (and may even be) a band also. My girlfriend Andrea can also claim the naming of both albums too. She’s good at that kind of thing!

    Is that Andrea as the telephone operator at the end of “Antimacassar”?

    Well spotted! Yes, I coersed her into that. I thought it’d be a funny and a typically British self-depreceating end to the album. All Mister Fusty is good for is telephone holding music!

    That made me chuckle out loud the first time I heard it, because I thought that’s what you were implying. So who comes up with the song titles?

    I do. It’s a bit tricky to come up with titles sometimes because, as there are no lyrics, you have nothing to refer to and I want to avoid titles like “bouncy song” or “slow groove” that describe what style they are!

    Usually I will spot something that I think makes a good name for a song. For example, I saw a poster that had all the different breeds of cattle in the UK on it and I saw one kind of sheep was called “Castlemilk Moorit,” so I thought that would make a great title. Similarly, “Perpetual Spinach” is a type of spinach we are growing in the garden. Often, places that I have been to or know crop up.

    A lot of the titles on “Honest Blundering” were village names from my home county of Lincolnshire, like “Silk Willoughby,” “Temple Bruer,” and the Heckington in “Flipping Heckington,” they are all great names and people are surprised they actually exist! “Unter Den Linden” is a main street of Berlin, a city I have visited a few times. So places are very much an inspiration for titles too.

    I listened to a couple mp3s from both the “Honest Blunderng” and “Sparkly Darkly” albums before ordering them and was intrigued with what I heard. However, I found that Mister Fusty is most enjoyable when listening to the albums the entire way through. Do you intentionally craft your music to work well as an album, or does it just turn out that way?

    I do have a think about what order the songs go in, like what makes a good opener, etc. Also, I try not to bunc