Street Eaters are a boy-girl, Berkeley-based punk outfit mixing passionate performance with political fire. The two-piece’s modus operandi comes from the legendary 924 Gilman Street music venue, whose Californian pop punk and hardcore scene was considered home by drummer Megan March and bassist John Mink. Or is it John Geek? 

“It’s ‘No’ right now,” says John. “I’ve narrowed it down to one word names now. Before, I went by things like Johnny NotJodieFoster Foster and Tom Araya FromSlayer. My name is much simpler these days. I’ve narrowed it down to keep it more focused and concise—even though it changes every six months.”

“You are such a moody guy,” teases March.

“I like the idea of constantly reinventing yourself,” he says.

Moodiness and spontaneity are what Street Eaters are all about: message-laden, politically charged melodic punk. The band is not afraid to share their beliefs.

“We draw inspiration from political and personal,” says No. “We’re avid readers and observers of things that happen on micro and macro scales. We care about what’s happening in the world, we take interest in the treatment of women and minorities. Taking a global view is part of being conscious. Our songs aren’t political in terms of advocating a specific bill, but we’ve been surrounded by war—”

“Oil spills,” March adds, “you see how the world is impacted, and it’s hard not to let it infiltrate your mind and compare the world around you.”

“We’re interested in framing,” he says. “Exploring a subject set in context of the modern world. Framing is paramount to interpretation.”

“Yeah,” she says. “For example, we have a song about women’s rights. I felt compelled to write it, to express myself through art and say what I have to say. People have told me the song was important; it was good to hear someone talking about it.”

“To be straightforward,” says No, “we’re living in the US in the 21st century, and the country is wealthy but home to profound injustices. It’s a deteriorating empire, and people need to write about the hard stuff.”

“There’s already enough escapist art,” says March.

“How many people in this country can’t afford health care, including me,” he says. “We write about sexuality—“

“Women in the workforce—”

“Toxic fumes. We could go on forever, you get the point.”

The group has pressed its message into their first full-length album, Rusty Eyes and Hydrocarbons, released July 12th on Bakery Outlet and Plan-It-X Records. No says listeners can look forward to “neat sonic textures, experience, great songs and melodies, awesome drum and bass tones.”

“But I don’t mean techno,” No jokes.

“It’s more grunge,” says March.

“It communicates what we do as a band,” he says.

Compared to their energetic live persona, Street Eaters’ recording method is quite meticulous.

“The irony of a studio recording is that bands want to go in and bang it out,” says No, “but we spend more time recording to bring out things to make our sound.”

“We record different batches of songs at different times,” March says. “We’ll record five songs in three hours; we don’t take much time to actually record, but we leave time between recordings.”

“For this album,” he says, “we listened to the songs to make sure they’re up to our stature, then picked the best recordings. We like to record songs when we’ve got them tight, but they’re still new. Then we put it all together, and make sure it makes sense as a cohesive whole.”

Even with the band’s precision in the studio, they acknowledge the road as their true calling.

“Live is better,” says March. “Making music in a studio is so final—playing live you have to make those quick decisions. It’s just a different way of making art. When you put out records, you get the artwork and the lyrics, and it’s a neat way of archiving things. Our struggle is to convey our live performance through vinyl.”

“Our sound is big and powerful,” says No. “That sense of community and catharsis comes across, especially on the new record.”

Street Eaters have been touring the country throughout June and July to support the album and deliver their message.

“Playing live is the fun part,” says March. “We’re community-oriented, so we go to towns where we know people so we can see friends. And we’ll go to new towns to meet new people.”

“We’re about serious, cathartic music and community,” says No. “The community aspect is when we play in smaller places, we like to talk to the audience and pass out lyric sheets before a performance. That’s really something bands don’t do anymore. We want people to understand what we’re talking about. It’s also about leaving a piece of the band behind.”

“It’s neat to play live because you get to let go and let your songs take life,” she says.

“You let the songs breathe,” he says. “We were brought up in the DIY touring culture, so we understand how important a big, good tour can be. Differentiating between making music from playing live is not in our genes.”

Street Eaters have toured with the likes of forgetters and Shellshag; March calls the latter tour a “double date.” No says their current June-July tour is the longest they’ve done consecutively.

“We’ll actually need a house-sitter this time,” jokes March.

In a typical Street Eaters show, audiences are treated to a more intimate experience than one would expect from a punk band.

 “We usually talk in between songs, to explain what they’re about,” says March. “Sometimes we play without stopping. It’s very intense and cathartic; the songs are about issues we care about. I have to play the drums while I sing, so performing for me uses the whole body.”

“We lose ourselves in the music once we reach a point where we can let loose and come alive,” says No.

“It also depends on the audience,” she says, “their energy and what they’re giving us.”

“What we’re saying in our songs is serious,” he says, “but even with the heavy subject matter the audience experiences this euphoria. Our melody is counterbalanced by the lyrics and high energy. It’s a way we express ourselves.”

Being able to wholly express messages may seem like a challenge for a band with only two members, but Street Eaters have overcome such suspicion.

“People will assume that a two-piece sounds less sonically full,” says No, “but we manage to quash that problem with multiple amps, interesting drums, our vocal harmonies.”

No and March have both experienced touring with larger bands, and they say that being a two-piece comes with its perks. Scheduling and transportation are much easier, and the group dynamic is simpler.

“With just two, decisions are made quicker,” says March, laughing. “With other bands there’s always a consensus. But that constant struggle can be exciting, to have personalities clash.”

“That we need to make minimal compromises is a huge plus,” adds No. “We sound how we wanted to from the beginning.”

But for two people so dedicated to the DIY lifestyle—which includes doing their own silk-screening and creating their own posters—being a duo has its annoyances.

“We only get two guest list spots,” says No.

“Merch production is a hassle,” adds March. “Since there’s only two of us and we do everything ourselves. Friends help out, but also there’s just the two of us to make sure everything gets done.”

“But the art is uncompromised,” he says. “It’s not watered down by five different views. March handles the artwork, I handle the outlook. We like these roles, but that means there’s less division of labor. But I’ve been in bands where only two people did most of the work anyway.”

Street Eathers’ strict DIY ethos stems from growing up at the Gilman, an East Bay music venue. Gilman is sacred to March and No, who volunteered there as kids. This notion made clear when No asks if Mapanare runs any corporate ads, least the venue’s integrity becomes compromised. No and March speak of Gilman as their punk rock Eden.

“Gilman Street is 25-years-old,” says No. “It’s an all-ages, volunteer-run collective space. It follows a Marxist philosophy, and no one gets paid.”

“It’s to provide a safe space,” says March. “It’s a punk club that doesn’t allow homophobia, sexism, or racism. The volunteers have meetings. It’s an amazing place, a place where people get into punk.”

March and No constantly express their gratitude to Gilman, whose shows converted them to life-long punk devotees. No was enamored with hardcore and noise rock acts, like Scratch Acid and Butthole Surfers.

“I was too young to go to big shows, so I went to Gilman to watch,” says No. “One of my favorite shows was Tilt at Gilman, and I was stoked at seeing Karp. My mind was blown.”

March’s Gilman experience, on the other hand, was more personal. She says that she would follow her older sister to the venue, where she was inspired by a new wave of West Coast women punk rockers, with female-fronted groups like The Need and Bikini Kill.

“Those local lady bands were a powerful influence on a young teen,” says March. “And groups from all over the place would come through.”

“Not many girls at the age of ten saw 7 Year Bitch,” says No.

“It was a strange, unique experience for me,” she says. “The 90s for me were probably different from most.”

The one aspect of 90s punk that resonated most with Street Eaters was the close interaction between bands and their audience. March and No disdain the modern separation, and try to return the personal element to performance.

“Our song Heavy into Nothing,” explains March, “is about how, with the internet, we’re staring at screens, and people impart information through a tube, and how audiences are told how they should think. You lose the communication. With our art and personal experiences, we take that and put it in our shows. No communication between the audience and the band is a loss, and so we use our lyric sheets to open a dialogue.”

“They’re more immediate,” says No.

“They’re a way of taking something with you,” she says. “I still have lyric sheets from 90s shows that I saw. There’s also artwork on the lyrics sheets. I would say that they bring back communication between an audience and the band.”

“They were immediate and tight-knit,” he says. “Their community wasn’t spread out and global with the internet. And because music is instantaneous and so democratized today, it could be alienating.”

No and March are no Luddites, however. They acknowledge how the internet has made their strict DIY ethos possible in the 21st century.

“The internet can be used for positive communication,” says No. “It just depends on how you use it.”

“DIY tours can be alienating because you leave your home,” says March. “But you go out and talk to people; that’s community, that’s the DIY attitude. And computers have been good.”

“Facebook is a lot easier to work with than a payphone,” he says.

“Before if they booked a show, we had to mail in a demo,” she says, “and maybe they’d call you and then your parents would answer the phone. It is so much easier now.”

No laughs at this and mentions a “club owner in North Dakota calling a 16-year-old girl.” March then tells the story of her first tour, when she was 18 years old. At the time she was volunteering at the Gilman.

“My first tour was a disaster,” says March. “The whole thing was booked by payphone. It was exciting and an adventure, but it’s better now since communication is easier. It was cool to show up in a town and play with any group, regardless of their genre. It was cool because we got to meet different people, but now they just go to your Facebook page and categorize you.”

While Street Eaters may be easy to categorize, their spirited manner, political edge and DIY dedication brings back the bite that made punk in the 90s fun but meaningful.

Perry Bax’s The Best Radio You Have Never Heard podcast sounds like a hefty promise and a major contradiction. How can a podcast be compared with radio, and is this really the best radio you’ve never heard? The latter question depends on your musical tastes, but rest assured Bax has brought one type of radio to the internet. The kind of radio Bax espouses, freeform radio, is almost gone from the airwaves today, but this lifelong music fan is using a modern medium to return to this classic format.

The heyday of freeform radio was during the counterculture movement of the 1960s and 1970s. The term refers to radio stations whose programming is solely controlled by the DJ. Bax, as DJ, producer, mixer, and arranger, is operating true to the classic freeform aesthetic.

“Being a podcaster has that DJ-aspect, but combined with the producing role—which is crucial,” says Bax. “For my show, it appeals to people and they dig it because of the production—it is the crux of what my shows are about. If you just look at it on paper, the show is me playing songs on the internet. But the finished show is more important than any one song. The stuff I play is not standard fare; I often play stuff like alternate tracks and covers. The key is to find a way to make all that work, to make sure there’s fluidity.”

Looking at a typical Bax playlist, accomplishing such fluidity, is astonishing. The latest episode, Bookend Goodbyes, takes listeners through 40 years of musical history. It opens with a song from Lovely Goodbye’s upcoming debut album. Later we hear a live duet of  Head Like A Hole by Trent Reznor and goth godfather Peter Murphy. After the entirety of the epic title track from Yes’s latest album, Fly from Here, the episode closes with a live performance of 4th of July by Bruce Springsteen & The E-Street Band. Filling the gaps are prog rock instrumentals, David Essex’s Rock On as covered by Garland Jeffreys, live renditions from Carole King and Harry Manx, and more surprises.

“I compare my program to 70s freeform FM in vibe, not material,” says Bax. “I have Death Cab for Cutie and Jeff Beck on one podcast. I can have genres and eras mesh together and still sound fine, because it’s all about the mixing and the context. There are supposed to be rules to making mixtapes, so says John Cusack in High Fidelity. But artists today are not flipping the finger to say ‘fuck you’ enough. So I say a small band from Chicago can get played next to Beck and Death Cab—there are no rules.”

Bax’s disdain for rules does not mean his show is pirate radio. Unlike some his competitors, Bax is licensed by SESAC, BMI, and ASCAP, meaning his playlists are legal. And while there are no rules to what Bax plays, he still creates his meticulously crafted playlists with a sense of balance.

“For each episode I have to mix music with comfortable material for the listener as well as new stuff, including songs you’ve never heard before and artists you’ve never heard before,” says Bax. “I’m not always forthcoming with what I’m playing. I’ll mix in artists you know, but play different songs by them, and I’ll play songs you know, but different versions.”

He also structures his episodes off one key message or idea. An example would be the recent Heat’s On episode, whose tracklist suggests the dangers of global warming.

“Does everyone get what I’m doing? Not necessarily.” says Bax. “Sometimes I’m not good at playing that end out. But subconsciously the listeners pick it up; the playlist is only one-dimensional compared to the show. When you hear it, you are just drawn in. Why is Richard Dreyfus stacking a mountain of mashed potatoes [in Close Encounters of the Third Kind]. He doesn’t know why, he just knows he has to meet up with that spaceship. Likewise, I am cryptic.”

Since the Chicago-based podcast started in 2004, Best Radio boasts 150 80-minute-long episodes with only 15 songs repeated. Bax says that this is his program’s major advantage over modern radio.

“The thing with traditional radio that people hate is fatigue; they’re tired of hearing the same track played over and over again,” says Bax. “Often people download our entire back-catalog. They can listen back and not hear the same song. That says something to the show’s longevity. But it’s not like, ‘well I played this in ’06 so I can’t play it again.’ It’s just that I haven’t had to.”

Bax landed his hosting job during the early, Wild West days of podcasting. He credits his fortune to very internet-worthy practice of networking.

“I had just wrapped up a director gig at db Sound in Chicago,” says Bax, “Working with groups like The Rolling Stones, The Allman Brothers Band, Metallica, Riverdance, and even a Barney the Dinosaur tour. I sat down for lunch with a guy I knew who came in with a plan. He said, ‘podcasting—that is you. This is what you need to do.’

“In 2004, podcasting was just getting off the ground,” he continues. “It was making strides, but it was still scary to some. The idea of subscriptions, and the commitment—it’s ubiquitous now, but they were adamant about it then. So I said to them, ‘who would listen to my shit?’ Months later they asked when the shirts were coming out, and my clever, belated punch-line was ‘who would buy my shirts?’”

Even in the beginning, Bax largely controlled the program, but he soon felt the need to move beyond his boundaries.

“They weren’t in control in terms of regulating the program, but eventually they put on the brakes and said ‘use your 5 GBs,’” says Bax. “After that I started becoming my own person. I got my own URL. We were originally hosted on Yahoo, and I needed my uploading speed raised to 2.5k.”

Best Radio is branching out its online availability. Along with the program’s website, a Best Radio subscription is available on iTunes, where it was once a part of their “New and Noteworthy” items. Also, Bax networks with the fans on the program’s Facebook page.

“Obviously, [that] is a place where I can post new shows,” says Bax. “People can listen to them right on the Facebook page. I want to make the path of resistance as small as possible. On the Facebook page, people who click play maybe won’t listen to the whole show, but they’ll listen to 10 minutes worth and then download it for later.”

And the Best Radio Facebook page doesn’t just feature podcast episodes. It hosts discussions on the songs Bax picks, YouTube clips, and general music news.

“I want the program to be a real full service—it’s not just about the show, it’s about the music,” says Bax. “The page is essentially an extension of the show.”

Still looking to expand, Bax is trying to understand the podcasting game, and figure out how to translate that understanding into growth. Bax is asking the question that all internet businesses ask; where do we go from here?

“There are lots of listeners that send Facebook messages asking, ‘why don’t you do the show every day,’” says Bax. “I want to tell them, ‘then buy a T-shirt.’ If we were to create a special membership with extra content, that would change the show’s format; I would have to hold back some content. Some suggest I broadcast in better quality, but given what I have, you show me a better sounding podcast.  Making a video version has been suggested, but I’m sure the viewers would rather watch paint dry.

“The listeners have urged me to get more into social media,” he continues. “They’ve asked, ‘when are you going to have an app?’ But that’s really cache, since I don’t know what I’d do with it. What functionality of an app would make the show more finger-friendly; that’s the kind of stuff we’re thinking about all the time. We want to keep the growth and get people listening and talking about it.”

Bax’s unique production stems from his lengthy experience in mixing.

“I was a club DJ for a long time. They have to do all their sets live and there are no second chances. It was a train wreck,” says Bax. “And I was a sound mixer for decades, ever since the seventh grade. All that comes together with podcasting and you’re looking at a more advanced medium. Now, I’m mixing with my eyes as much as my ears.”

There is a visual element to Best Radio and Bax himself. For a man so encased in the music industry, Bax layers conversation with classic movies references--Best Radio’s motto, “Accept No Substitute,” is a line taken from Risky Business. Each episode has a picture or illustration that goes with it and the frequent appearance of live tracks remind the listener how seeing the real thing is irreplaceable. Bax’s preference for live tracks makes sense, given his start as a wunderkind concert producer.

“I look back to that time and think, what balls on this kid,” Bax reminisces. “When Almost Famous came out, everyone said, ‘dude, this is you!’”

Bax became enamored with music as a kid growing up in the sixties.

“I played drums for this garage band when I was young, maybe in 5th or 6th grade,” says Bax. “I walked in for practice one day, and they gave me a strange look. ‘You’ve got to hear this,’ they said to me, and they were playing Are You Experienced, which had just been released. We tried to play Purple Haze the whole afternoon. We were playing some Rolling Stones and Doors stuff before. Like so many others, I just turned a corner one day watching Ed Sullivan in 1964.”

His thirst for music insatiable, Bax fell for concerts, going above and beyond the call of duty for any fan wanting to see his favorite act live. Too young to attend, he’d negotiate with the roadies to move their equipment before and after shows in exchange for admittance.

“I was so into music, and I knew the crews would be there before the show,” says Bax. “I was a big guy, so I’d be there hours before the show to help move the equipment. The crew was always blown away by me not weaseling out at the end of the show, and they’d give me a ride home. I’d hate to be the neighbor who, at 2 AM, saw some truck pull up in the neighborhood.”

He progressed from pseudo-roadie to concert producer, putting on his own shows and booking some major acts.

“The shows I used to put on were called ‘PB Productions,’ so people still call me PB,” Bax says. “I did shows with bands I wanted. The Park District in Chicago is good for shows; it has a natural amphitheater, so organizers used to put the bands on the top of this hill. But I was intolerant, and I thought that was stupid. I did the shows differently and they were like, ‘oh, cool.’ I was 16 when I was doing all these crazy things. I borrowed pieces of staging from my school. I would just ask a janitor and he just gave it to me. I even staged a Styx show; that was bizarre! But it bought me credibility.

“I look back on those days and cringe; I was a jerk,” Bax continues. “But I was blindly following what I wanted to do.”

The backbone of Bax’s program are older songs and artists, but operating with modern methods. Bax suggests the industry modernize as well.

“The music business is crazy,” says Bax. “They are trying to retain an old model that doesn’t work in current times. They need to stop thinking of selling CDs with 14 tracks each.

“On the other hand, the movie business has gone out of its way to adapt,” he continues. “Some people make the case that music is free, that people consume it and then want more. So money can be made from selling other merchandise, like concert tickets. The music business is killing itself: the old model no longer works, and if there were no file-sharing, the business wouldn’t last, so it’s a tough call. Spotify is crazy in Europe, because nobody stays with the free product. People pay for the full service.”

Bax’s unique program has earned him an expansive audience that can be broken up into two groups.

“The majority of my audience is older and does not pay attention to new stuff, since they’re busy with their kids and work,” says Bax. “Having an influence on what they do get a chance to listen to is cool. The best thing I hear from listeners is that I get them to buy music from bands they hate. That is, these are bands they think they hate, but they hear those bands in a new context and think, ‘hm, I like that.’

“The other group listening to my show is the 16-19 year olds that are just discovering new music, but are still curious about music from the past,” he continues. “I’m in a good place to discover new artists; I play music from the past 40 years. Why paint with some colors when you can use the whole palette? The younger someone is, the more adventurous they are in their music listening. My hope is that there are still 13-year-olds today sitting around with a Stratocaster trying to learn ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ If there are, then all is right in the world.”

Bax is forever a free-formist, comfortable in his role in controlling his program and his destiny. In fact, it is Bax who ends our interview.

“Now that sounds like a perfect ending.”

If you’re looking for a lesson in early West Coast punk, Dave Travis is your man. After all, before taking time off to edit his countless homemade videos of 1980s LA punk shows into a cohesive documentary, titled A History Lesson Part 1, he taught middle school and high school social studies.

“As a teacher I taught history, geography, and economics. I really like geography,” says the man who known to his students as just ‘Travis’. “I have a degree in geography. When I was video recording, I needed a source of stable income, so I got a position as a teacher because I like teaching stuff.”

Travis’s love for teaching shows. In conversation Travis can hardly contain his encyclopedic knowledge on punk and punk history. And with A History Lesson, Travis is able to share the rise of the West Coast punk scene from his own eyes with home movies he shot as a teenager in LA County. And there is no man more capable of assembling such a collection as Travis, who witnessed the punk emergence from different vantage points. Travis saw it from the venue floors as an audience member, he experienced it from the backstage as a roadie, and eventually he created it from the stage as a performer in his own right.

Travis got his first taste of punk after seeing an X concert at a venue called The Whiskey.

“Seeing X and getting exposed to punk really opened things up to me,” says Travis. “At the shows there were always 200 to 300 people, with no restrictions between you and the band and where you can be. X was the best band I had ever seen live—DJ Bonebrake is an amazing drummer. It made me feel at home, and it made me want to come back.”

Travis went back many times, as indicated by the sheer amount of footage he has acquired over the years. A History Lesson Part 1 is the first in a series of compilations of these homemade movies, and film screenings are taking place throughout California. The screenings are followed by performances from local LA punk bands—legend Mike Watt of The Minutemen, one of the subjects of the film, has even joined A History Lesson on occasion, as has Travis’s own group Carnage Asada. The most recent screening was at the Ninth Street Independent Film Center as part of a benefit to help save the KUSF is a community radio station at the University of San Francisco.

The film conveys a feel for the early 1980s punk scene in LA. Travis includes performances he shot of iconic bands The Minutemen, The Meat Puppets, Red Kross, and Twisted Roots. Travis was specific in his choice of bands for the focus of his first film. As the title implies, these groups have certainly earned their place in the history of not only punk, but also popular music for their influential experimentation.

“The psychedelic elements of the featured bands definitely influenced a lot of later bands and groups from that area,” explains Travis. “Redd Kross and The Minutemen were different from everyone else in hardcore punk. Their songs didn’t just use that one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four structure. They were more experimental; they were among the first punk bands to experiment and include different styles, not just hardcore.”

Like all good history lessons, Travis’s film acts as a link between the growing years of Generation X and its adult years.

“The Meat Puppets were a big influence on Nirvana, and they were one of the bigger acts who were able to travel outside the state,” continues Travis. “They played Washington, so they influenced those bands. The Meat Puppets just played wherever they could, just like The Minutemen and Redd Kross.”

Travis also picked those four bands for logistical reasons.

“I started chronologically. The first tapes I made were from 1983 to 1984, and the bands featured in the movie are from that early period,” says Travis. “They were chosen because they had the best quality video. Some of the bands from that period I couldn’t use because I couldn’t get permission.”

What separates A History Lesson from most rockumentaries is that Travis leaves his subjects’ performances in their original state: uncut and without voiceover. Furthermore, Travis’s film aesthetically captures the DIY ethic that is central to punk rock.

“The movie is really low budget. No one was hired, and I didn’t have anyone to help me,” says Travis. “The idea behind punk is that you do it yourself, otherwise no one else is going to do it, and that’s similar to what I did with this movie.”

In addition to live recordings, the film features interviews with members of each band.

“The interviews with Redd Kross, Twisted Roots, and The Minutemen are from 1994 to 1996,” says Travis. “That was when I was working with [Carnage Asada bassist] Dave Jones, who was working on a book about LA Punk. We taped the interviews for future use. For Meat Puppets, we just interviewed them when they were down here for a summer, that wasn’t too hard. Those weren’t the only interviews though. We interviewed whom we could; there were about 70 interviews.”

In the interview, viewers can see how the punk rockers compare to their onstage personas.

“The artists definitely become livelier onstage,” says Travis. “That’s common with the singers, like Jack Brewer and Keith Morris [of Black Flag]. It’s not that they become different people; they just become more energetic and livelier.”

Travis developed his interviewing style and learned the filming trade from his father.

“I worked with my Dad on shows like 60 Minutes and CBS News,” says Travis. “I worked on the sound, and while I was working on these news programs, I saw the interviews and that was how I learned journalism. I saw the questions they asked and learned how to interview. My Dad was the one who taught me the basic skills of using filming and video equipment.”

Mr. Travis never thought twice of how his son was honing his craft.

“My Dad just thought it was good that I was doing something,” says Travis. “He just wanted me to learn how to use the equipment, and the best way to learn is to practice. I was using hand-me-down equipment; I guess you could consider it on-the-job-training.”

Any editor, or teenager for that matter, would kill for the kind of training Travis experienced. The punk historian became a staple in the LA punk scene due to all the equipment he carried to live shows.

“I had on a VCR, like one you’d keep in a house, and I wore this lighting belt with motorcycle batteries and electrifiers that were used to power the camera,” says Travis. “It was not easy to shoot stuff and get around. The audience didn’t have any problems with me; at the shows I always saw the same people and they saw me. The bigger bands sometimes wouldn’t let me film them, but the smaller ones would want me to film them. My stuff would sometimes get messed up if someone would stage-dive on me. Now, people who want to film a show just use their iPhone to film shows, which I think is great.”

It is clear that Travis would have been grateful to have an iPhone for his filming his home movies, since technological constraints prevented his documentary from coming out sooner.

“Editing systems are so much better today, I was able to make the movie right on my computer,” says Travis. “Originally, you’d have to go from one VHS tape to another, and the tapes didn’t even have time codes, so you tracked your video by how the wheel was turned. This made editing very imprecise and you could cut off a fourth of a second of tape—but on a computer, you can get it really accurate, and when you need to try something else, there are different ways to edit a tape.”

All the equipment Travis had came in handy however, since the filmographer was able to participate in a southern California tradition: generator parties.

 “We would do these generator shows because when you’re under 21, it’s hard to get into some shows,” says Travis. “So we got our own generator and PA system and set up these shows. We’d go out on the beach in Malibu; we did a show in an abandoned missile silo; we also did one behind this restaurant. We put on these shows all around LA. One time someone suggested we do a generator show in the desert. So in the middle of nowhere we’d set up the PA and just jam. Redd Kross and Sonic Youth were doing that before I did any shows, but I saw how they did it and it was so simple. I was inspired, so I borrowed my Dad’s equipment and put on my own.”

Travis then explained the significance of generator shows to the southern California punk scene as a benchmark separating the true fans from the casual listeners.

“The shows were fun, and they are still done today,” says Travis. “Desert shows have a different feel from regular shows since select people found out that they were going on, and then not everyone was willing to drive to the desert and hike two to three miles to the show. There was nowhere to park, so that’s what you had to do, and the people who do that must be very dedicated. The shows would go on all night until sunrise, and you could get really close to the band. Or you could go off to the rocks and watch nature, and the since it was out in the desert you could see the stars so clearly.”

After gaining notice for his filming capabilities, Travis gained editing experience working his way from underground films to MTV specials. He worked closely with director Dave Markey, who started out with cult hits before moving on to documentaries. Travis’s first project with Markey was the punk schlock classic Lovedolls Superstar, done with Markey’s own studio We Got Power.

 “Dave had previously done Desperate Teenage Lovedolls, and for Superstar I helped with editing, shooting, and any other extra work,” says Travis. “I was still in high school at the time, but his friends had heard about me and they knew where I lived. When I was videotaping punk shows, it was not a common thing—not many other people were doing that. So word spread and Dave came to me.”

Travis’s work on the underground film showed the emerging editor how DIY was not just an onstage concept. Travis was able to see this DIY ethic in comparison to the work his father did for CBS.

 “It was different than working for CBS,” says Travis. “CBS is a corporation where everyone has one position and one job to do. At We Got Power, it was just Markey, Jordan Schwartz, and whomever they had to help them out with whatever they could. There are few people who do what they can. While shooting the movie, I saw that most of the lines were improvised, and it was really just a bunch of friends having fun making a movie.”

While with We Got Power, Travis was still working alongside family: his sister Abby worked on the Lovedolls Superstar soundtrack.

“The funny thing about that is, the movie was about a fictitious band called The Lovedolls, and then a real life Lovedolls band started up, and it included my sister. But, she wasn’t in the movie band at all; she just made a cameo appearance.

Also, on the soundtrack were Dead Kennedys and Sonic Youth. Even though Sonic Youth is from New York, they came to LA in 1985 and played at a desert party with Meat Puppets and Redd Kross, who did most of the Lovedolls soundtrack. They became friends with the guys in Redd Kross, and through them they met Markey, and through him they were able to get a spot on the soundtrack.”

On the other side of working with Markey, Travis participated in serious film work as well. The two were tasked with making a Kurt Cobain tribute for the 1994 MTV Video Music Awards.

“Making the tribute was heavy stuff,” says Travis. “We went through a lot of material, watching all their footage and interviews. Markey directed and I edited, and we were happy to do what the Nirvana people wanted. It was a heavy experience to being there with them and watching the footage, which they’d never seen before. They were good people to work with, even under those heavy circumstances. They were big stars, but they weren’t assholes or anything.”

It had only been two years since Travis finished working with Markey on the director’s magnum opus, the punk and early grunge documentary 1991: The Year Punk Broke.

“After Markey accompanied Sonic Youth on their European tour with Nirvana, he came back to LA with all this footage which I edited and transferred to video, using each song as a video and the live audio recording,” says Travis. “It was a good project, and it was fun since it let me listen to Nirvana and Sonic Youth every day.”

Travis is not just an avid listener and documenter of punk rock; he also creates it. His A History Lesson project has not only given new life to his home videos, but also to his psychedelic punk group Carnage Asada. Through Carnage Asada, Travis is living the life he witnessed through the lens of his handheld cameras, and he is able to be an active part in keeping the alive the punk ethics of DIY and camaraderie.

“With the groups I play with,” says Travis. “There’ll be a guy who plays in two to three bands, and the guys in those bands play in two or three other bands. It creates a web. You come to understand a band better because you understand the people in them and you’ve jammed with them.”

Carnage Asada, as a frequent follow-up act to a History Lesson Part 1 screening, is gaining greater exposure and more work.

“We’ve been working on our new album,” says Travis. “We recorded the songs back from 2003 to 2004, and we’re in the process of mixing it now. Hopefully this spring we can record some stuff with our new guitar player Tony Fate.”

Carnage Asada is not Travis’s first experience travelling with a punk band, however. Back in the 1980s, Travis knew the groups of his hometown well enough that he would tour with them, giving him a firsthand account of the spread of punk across the West Coast.

“I went on tour with Killroy in 1984 when I was just 16 years old,” says Travis. “For that tour we went to all these small towns, and their punk scenes were different compared to that of LA. In LA, punk had been well established, but it was groups like Killroy were bringing punk to these small towns.

 In 1985, I traveled with Redd Kross on their tour. They were a better band and they put on better shows, and back then there were no restrictions on driving for kids like me. In 1991, I went on tour with Celebrity Skin, working as a roadie and a soundman.

As for interesting stories, I remember when touring with Celebrity Skin, their drummer Don Bolles was eating at a Waffle House with us, and someone from the band put $5 in the jukebox and played Waffle House songs until he cried.”

Travis continued to tour in 1990s, only by this time he had made a name for himself as a musician. It was his time to observe shows from the stage itself. 

“In the 1990s I joined this band WACO and played cello for them; we went on a few tours. It was always interesting to see different places, and the experience certainly made high school more interesting,” says Travis. “There were a lot of punkers right in LA; there always were.”

There always will be too, as Travis has learned during his time as a social studies teacher.

“I taught in South Central LA, and while I thought there were a lot of punk rockers there, there were more than when I was in high school,” says Travis. “When I was in school, it was new; punk rock was still catching on. Now, almost 25 years later, the younger students knew certain bands that had different influences. I saw high school bands forming between friends with common interests who just wanted to play. I watched as they started out playing at parties to getting their own shows.”

Travis’s students have returned the favor by serving as audience members at his History Lesson screenings.

“I do see former students at the History Lesson screenings, and I go to talk to them,” says Travis. “They’ll come to my Carnage Asada shows—as a teacher I wasn’t antagonistic or anything. We’re always happy to see each other. To them I never was ‘Mr. Travis’, I was always just Travis.”

The historian known simply as Travis will continue teaching his unique history lesson, as he already has a second film lined up.

“We’re working on A History Lesson Part 2, and I’ve learned some things from making the first movie,” says Travis. “For Part 1, I edited all the interviews first, then I tried to get the clearances. I profiled 12 bands originally, but I was only able to clear four of them. For Part 2, I have to figure out who I generally want to use and get them cleared first.”

The only confirmed band for A History Lesson Part 2 was Saccharine Trust, and Travis has a history with the South bay punk band’s eccentric frontman.

“Saccharine Trust will be featured in Part 2; they were another SST band that worked with Black Flag,” says Travis. “I worked with their singer Jack Brewer on this poetry record he did. He’s really cool, and the thing about the record was that all the songs, they were live recordings we did at the Hollywood Christmas Parade. We recorded him reciting his poetry on Hollywood Boulevard as the parade went by. He has such intense words; it was all pretty interesting.”

Until them, the Part 1 screenings and Carnage Asada shows don’t look like they’ll be stopping anytime soon.

Being on the road is a key component in rock mythology and one of the staples and certainties of being a professional musician. It is out on the road that two groups can reunite, rekindle a friendship lost in the bustle of trying to break out.

Southern rock groups Ingram Hill and the Benjy Davis Project joined together for a tour of the college towns of the Southeastern Conference. Ingram Hill is made of University of Memphis friends Justin Moore, the group’s energetic and down-to-earth frontman, guitarist Phil Bogard, and bassist Zach Kirk. The sole constant members of BDP have been the band’s founders, frontman and namesake Benjy Davis and drummer Mic Capdevielle. With it being an SEC tour, though, it would be assumed that Baton Rouge-based BDP and the Tennessean Ingram Hill have engaged in some college sports banter.

“Ha, not yet!” laughs Ingram Hill frontman, Justin Moore. “We went to Memphis so, I guess, fortunately and unfortunately, Memphis is not exactly competitive so that we even need to clash about anything. At least we’ve got basketball!”

The fun-loving musicians are just as friendly as ever despite travelling different routes. Ingram Hill signed on to Disney-owned Hollywood Records in early 2000s, while BDP continued to release recordings with indie labels. During the practice session at the venue they are to play later, however, the musicians show no sign of needing to catch up. In-jokes are shared about their travels thus far, and Davis tries to get a consensus on where to grab a bite before the show while the others debate if The Dark Knight was better than Tim Burton’s Batman. Moore talks about what it is like to see his old pals again.

“Since we haven’t seen each other’s shows in so long, it’s fun to watch them and see where they are. And yeah, we pick up some little nuances, like even the way how Benjy addresses the crowd. I might think to myself, ‘hmm, I might need to store that one in my brain to use on a later day’,” says Moore. “And we’ve had the discussion about how much gear to bring, and how big our trailer is, how small their trailer is (laughs), how much better gas mileage they get. We need to downsize!”

BDP drummer Mic Capdevielle tells the story of how Ingram Hill helped his band get off the ground, ironic given that it is now BDP who is helping the Tennessee rockers readjust to the indie label lifestyle.

“Ingram Hill and us, we first started touring back in ’03. They were definitely in the scene and we were opening for them when we started out,” says Capdevielle. “They were the first band that we actually went out on the road with. That was a really cool thing, and then we sort of lost touch; they ended up signing, doing their own thing, going on their own path. We developed.”

Things then came full circle and they signed with Rock Ridge.

“When we heard we could go on the road with them, it was like, “heck yeah, dude, good to see the ol’ boys back!” says Capdeveille. “We’ve kind of matured since those days, we’ve gotten older. Well actually, I don’t know about maturing, but we’ve certainly gotten older!”

 It was Capdevielle and Davis who convinced Ingram Hill to sign with the independent label Rock Ridge Music. Moore tells how the idea for the tour came about.

“We have the same management, and we’ve been friends forever. I mean a long, long time,” says Moore. “When Benjy first got started, they toured around with us. And then after that we would see each other, just crossing paths, but we didn’t tour together. At this point, they had a record come out recently and we have one coming out; it just seemed like a good match, and it gave us a chance to roll around in the south for a little bit.”

The records Moore is referring to were put out this year. BDP’s Lost Souls Like Us debuted At #15 on Billboard’s Heatseekers Chart in March, while Ingram Hill’s Look Your Best reached the #12 spot in September.

BDP’s latest release includes contributions from notable guitarists Jason “Slim” Gambill of Lady Antebellum, Danny Chauncey of .38 Special, and Mark “Sparky” Matejka of the legendary southern rock group Lynryd Skynyrd. Capdevielle comments on meeting Matejka.

“Every guy had a unique draw about them, but meeting the Lynrrd Skynard guy was just retarded,” says Capdevielle. “It was very cool, very surreal. He just stepped in there real cool-like and kills, lays it down. There was this other guy, Ethan Pilsner, who plays bass. When we’d lay down tracks he’d voice these ideas. He was a big jokester, always known to crack open a beer. There was a lot of stuff to learn from him, for sure.”

Look Your Best is Ingram Hill’s first release with Rock Ridge; before that Ingram Hill was signed to the Disney-owned Hollywood Records label. While at Hollywood Records, Ingram Hill released two albums, June’s Picture Show in 2003 and Cold in California 2007. Moore weighs in on the pros and cons of switching labels and moving to the indie market.

“There’s a lot more freedom involved with indie labels, it doesn’t have to go through 25 people to get approved before it goes to prep,” says Moore. “And the people who work at an indie label, everyone has to do their job for it all to work. Sometimes at a major you’re not priority number one, y’know, so at different sections of the process people tend to slack off and it’s hard to hold somebody accountable.

At an indie label, they’re so much smaller, and the focus has to be so much more in tune, and it helps them make a more successful product, because everyone is working on the same side trying to make a successful record.”

However, Moore does feel the effects of the economic constraint that comes with leaving a major label.

“We certainly miss the huge budget, and lots of money,” laughs Moore. “Big budgets are definitely fun! Gosh, we spent ungodly amounts of money on photo shoots.”

While Ingram Hill was signed to a major label, BDP was becoming veterans of the touring circuit. They’ve played all over the country as well as made multiple appearances at New Orleans’s legendary music festivals Jazz Fest and Voodoo Fest. Capdevielle discusses his ideal venue for performing.

“Festivals are always good, just because, for some odd reason, I just feel extremely comfortable playing larger stages with larger crowds,” he says. “There’s a gigantic, diverse market that’s in front of you that you can reach to, verses you might spend one month touring and reach not even half the amount of people. There’s always good music to watch always, and I’m always able to learn from a lot of drummers.”

Capdevielle goes on to talk about the economic side of touring and the positive effects of constant travelling and taking chances on different venues.

“There’s good networking, y’know, you get to meet a lot of people when you sell your product, and you get to meet people from all over the place,” he says. “Like, we played Jazz Fest, which people attend from all over. So you’ll meet a couple that saw you at Jazz Fest, then three or four years later, you might go play a venue, and then the couple who saw you at Jazz Fest will say, ‘hey we saw you at Jazz Fest in ’04! And we loved you, so we came!’”

Ingram Hill will be going on an unusual tour come Jan. of 2011 when they board the eleventh annual Rock Boat. The Moore explains his anticipation for the festival-cruise.

“It’s going to be our fourth Rock Boat, which we are really excited about,” says Moore. “It’s been a few years since we’ve been on it, I can’t even believe how happy I am to be on it again.”

While on Rock Boat XI, Ingram Hill will be playing along with groups such as host band Sister Hazel, Nada Surf, and Needtobreathe. Moore goes on to explain how the Rock Boat works.

“The whole idea is neat. It is non-stop concerts from 1 in the afternoon until when everybody goes to sleep. It’s just like any other musical festival,” says Moore. “You’ve got stages on either side of the boat, you’ve got to pick what shows you want to see, and as the artist, we play one show a day and then we’re on a cruise! You play your show and then you can be irresponsible for the rest of the day!”

Moore, like the music-loving cruisers he will be entertaining, has his own wish list of artists he can’t wait to see.

“I’m pretty excited to see Green River Ordinance. Those guys have a buzz going on about them, and I hear them on XM Radio all the time, but I’ve never seen them live,” says Moore. “A lot of the people on there are already our friends: we’ve toured together and I’ve already seen their shows. That’s not to say I’m not excited about seeing them, but there’s a lot I’ve never seen before.”

BDP have also made an appearance on the Rock Boat. They were on the cruise-festival last year, where they met Lost Souls Like Us contributor Slim Gambill of Lady Antebellum fame.

“We were on rock boat, but we’re not doing it this year. It’s fun, it’s a good time, we had a good time doing it,” says Capdevielle. “It’s kind of, “whatever”; if we get to do it again, then that’s cool. I feel like there’s a curse though, like if you’re on there all the time, you just become ‘blah’, bland. Any fan who likes it goes back, so the same group just keeps going back to see you again and again and again. Sometimes it’s just fresh to do other things. I mean, well, truthfully, we weren’t even invited back. But, hey, I don’t give a shit. Yo, make sure you write that!”

 Both groups have tried to reach more fans through online promotion. BDP made a free “sampler” of their music available for free on Amazon back in July. Titled Paper Trails, the mix featured their greatest hits as well as one new song, Raining in Me, and a track from their latest album.

Ingram Hill has taken a different and more humorous approach to attracting online listeners. On their website, they have released their covers of chart-topping pop songs, including Chris Brown’s With You and Katy Perry’s I Kissed a Girl.

“I think it’s kind of fun. I mean, it’s silly,” says Moore. “To take a song like that, I think it’s necessary to totally deconstruct it, because there’s no sense in me trying to sing like Chris Brown. And believe me, the comments on those videos; I’ve been bashed for ‘ruining’ Chris Brown’s songs.”

While Ingram Hill’s fans may be pleased by their online covers, the group has earned its critics. Moore pays them no mind.

“Some people get very anti-cover; I think it’s a fun way for people to hear about you, if it’s on YouTube or whatever, and then maybe they can check out your other stuff. And if you’re playing a show, and then you break out a cover, people tend to get excited. If it’s a song everybody knows, then they’ll say, ‘oh, isn’t this cool!’”

Ingram Hill guitarist Phil Bogard then tells of Moore’s brush with greatest as a result of his web antics.

“After the Chris Brown song, Justin got contacted from this lady,” says Bogard. “She says, ‘Hey, I really like this. I have this guy who helps us on YouTube, he helps my son. If you’d like any help, he charges some, but he’s done some good things for my son. So Justin says, ‘Aw, this is just some crazy lady,’ and ignores her. And then it was Justin Bieber’s mom, without question.”

While Ingram Hill gets readjusted to the indie world they have been away from, it is certain that they have their Louisiana pals to count on. And though the toil of touring is best known as the cause of notorious band break-ups, it’s nice to see that musicians can be reunited on the road.

Experimental hardcore group Pierce the Veil has finally pierced the charts with their sophomore album Selfish Machines. First generating buzz with A Flair for the Dramatic in 2007, the latest album from the San Diego foursome debuted at #1 on Billboard’s “Heatseekers” Chart.

Despite their newfound success, the members of Pierce the Veil remain down-to-earth in their attitude and personality. The fun-loving, easy-going nature of the band is embodied in their frontman, Vic Fuentes. Fuentes founded the group alongside his brother Mike, the drummer for Pierce the Veil. The group is completed by bassist Jaime Preciado and guitarist Tony Perry.

The group received a lot of exposure this year on the Warped Tour, known for showcasing new talent in punk, ska, and rock. The group has become a staple on the hardcore travelling festival circuit, having previously performed on the 2008 Warped Tour and the 2009 Taste of Chaos tour.

At the time of this interview, Warped Tour had just finished playing in Wisconsin.

“Oh, Milwaukee was great man” says Fuentes. “It was a great show, awesome weather, the best weather of the whole tour. As for technical difficulties, every day one thing goes wrong, but it’s never a big deal.”

The band is hoping for further exposure when the music video for the first single off Selfish Machines, Caraphernelia, is made ready for television and internet. Fuentes is enthusiastic about the video and about working with director Robby Starbuck.

“It was cool; I was very surprised by the amount of production that went into the video. We shot it on a little set, and there was a crew and some pyro guys and we were like, ‘Wow this is crazy!” he says. “…It was really cool. Jeremy McKinnon, who did a cameo in the song, we wanted him in video but he was in Europe. So they actually shot his stuff overseas, the parts with him in it were done in Europe!”

Along with festival shows, Pierce the Veil has become well known through their extensive touring schedule. Playing festivals and headling tours, especially for a band still making their name, is a contrast.

“They’re so different, it’s hard to say. We love club tours; we are huge on playing live. The good thing with playing venues like Warped Tour is that it is an outdoor festival with tons of people and a larger stage,” says Fuentes. “Playing an outdoor festival as opposed to a club definitely changes it up. You have to treat each venue differently.”

Like most musicians lucky enough to have both experiences Fuentes cannot pick one over the other.

“I can’t really say. I don’t prefer either venue, I mean Warped Tours are just so crazy; so many people come out. We just love playing, so any gig we get is fun.”  he says.

Fuentes says the band has brought their touring experience into the studio with them, and this tour-influence can be especially heard on Selfish Machines.

“Our whole record was based off of that, that raw emotion and experience [of touring],” he says. “We toured for three years before we started recording, so the emotion that is such a big part of the record comes from inspiration from the fans.”

As much as touring another major inspiration of Pierce the Veil is their home town.

“San Diego is a huge part of Pierce the Veil. We all grew up on SoCal punk, we looked up to those guys,” says Fuentes. “That whole scene was so influential to us as a band.”

Regardless of influences Fuentes says the focus of the band is squarely on their fans.

“We always try to do a full-on show for the kids, so we put lot of effort into our shows,” he says. “We take time to decide what songs we’ll be playing, you know, what covers; make sure to include some sing-a-longs for the fans.”

Pierce the Veil is also known for an eclectic selection of cover songs. Showcasing their experimental nature at a recent concert in Pittsburgh, the group played a hard rock rendition of Michael Jackson’s 1982 pop classic, Beat It.

“It was fun, I love doing that stuff,” says Fuentes.  “It’s hard to take an old style and reconstruct it; you have to see how they originally did it and how they recorded it. This helps us as a band though, it really expands our style. It was fun to play it live; I mean everyone knows Beat It. We recently played ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ in a similar style, and the crowd loved it.”

Selfish Machines, made a 400% sales increase over its predecessor. The album also marks a change in the state of the band, in that all the members were actually present.

“The recording process for Selfish Machines was a lot different from the process for A Flair for the Dramatic. The first album was just me and my brother playing, but luckily Tony and Jaime were in the group this time around. It’s cool to have the band with us,” says Fuentes.

Even though they’re newcomers, the other members of Pierce the Veil have become acclimated with the band.

“The other members are totally integrated into the band. We’ve toured so much and grown super close. We’re like family; they’re like brothers to me. They are a huge help to the band, especially when we play in preproduction. They are huge to the process, and they are really good as musicians.”

Fuentes also credits location to improvements on the second release.

“Also, we were actually able to record in LA this time around, as opposed to Seattle where we recorded our debut. Sure, there was too much industry and people around, but the finished product came out really good,” says Fuentes. “It’s a progression from album to album, and hopefully we get better as we go. We really like the new record; both reflect different periods of our lives and our set goals at the time.”
 
Despite now being, themselves, part of a musical trend, they were never followers.

"People need to try not to go with trends; you need to go with what you want. You need to try and be happy with your band, you know,” says Fuentes. “You should try not to write about break-ups just because it’s what’s popular. I’d rather do my own thing than sound like everyone else.”

But it isn’t all wine and roses; Fuentes has some apprehension over the current state of the music business.

“The industry right now is confusing. It’s been around long time, and I still don’t understand it. I don’t like the business part of music, I don’t like dealing with it. I much prefer to write songs and play guitar. Dealing with the business end, it’s scary,” says Fuentes. “A lot of bands really get fucked over because of it. You have just got to find someone you can trust to take care of that aspect.”

Fuentes is known for his very emotional, personal lyrics that deal with such topics as loss, break-up, and heartache. Wouldn’t a frontman associated with the heavy hardcore music scene be worried of becoming too vulnerable to his fans?

“Not really, I’m not too concerned about revealing stuff to the fans. I have no problem writing about revealing stuff. It gets tricky when you’re writing songs about particular people and when they know it’s about them. Our song Caraphernelia is about my ex-girlfriend named Cara, and I had to actually talk about the song to her.” he says. “But it has to be real, songwriting can’t be fake. I hate bands that clearly made up the lyrics to their songs on the spot without putting any emotion into it.” 

And there is a personal benefit to this, beyond just a heart wrenching song.

“..The therapeutic factor is definitely why we play music; it’s what we love to do. Our studio in San Diego is my favorite place in the world; it’s huge for me. I especially love playing with my brother; it’s great to do this with family.” he says.
 
And how about playing with your brother in a rock band? That could be a dream or a nightmare.
 
“It’s amazing. We’ve played together since we were little kids, so there’s, like, this higher sense of connection that we have. It’s like, there’s a point where I can sense what he will do before he does it,” says Fuentes. “Our connection makes the writing process easier. I admire my brother, he’s a fantastic drummer and he’s very talented.”

Fuentes concluded the interview, in typical, Pierce the Veil fashion, with a shout-out to his fans; “We love you and always enjoy seeing you at our shows!”

Pierce the Veil will be bringing their unique heavy post-rock sound to Australia come September.

Silversun Pickups are on fire.

The L.A.-based indie rock band is enjoying headliner status after “paying dues” touring in the opening slot forthe likes of Muse and Foo Fighters (not exactly heinous dues-paying). The band’s summer tour is a big venue, big step up the group. They have been touring the US since June with opening acts Against Me! and The Henry Clay People.

“The tour has been a lot of fun and really hot,” says keyboardist Joe Lester. “It was really warm in Jersey today. It was like a jillion fuckin’ degrees in D.C. yesterday. It’s a good thing the bands we’ve played with have been really fun and really cool.”

In addition to adjusting to the lead-melting heat Lester and the band have also been adjusting to a new sort of venue.  

“The venues have been a trip,” he says.  “We’re more used to festivals, but these big venues are good since they allow us more production than past performances, as well as more control over the aesthetics.”

 The bigger venues and more high-tech shows are appropriate for the growing band. However, the group is staying true to their small-time origins.

“I always prefer to see bands in smaller venues; I’m personally not a fan of arenas,” states Lester. “It’s also more fun to play in smaller venues because we get to interact more with the audience and the crowd is usually livelier. The places we’ve played at on our tour are the exact size we need; bands should play in places that are a good enough size for playing proper shows while making sure their crowds are not out in the dark.”and hm well ask him about touring and what's it like. and ask him about their inspiration and maybe the stresses of band-life as well as the perks

Formed in 2002 in Silver Lake, Silversun Pickups is fronted by Brian Aubert, the bands lead singer, guitarist, and primary lyricist. Aubert is known for his distinct “nasally” voice, which has a desperately frantic, fragile presence. Aubert’s voice is countered by the soft backing vocals of bassist Nikki Monninger. The group is completed by drummer Christopher Guanlao and Lester, who help create the urgent but delicate soundscapes that made the band famous.

 The summer tour is just one sign of the group’s recent launch to stardom. They were also nominated for Best New Artist at the 52nd annual Grammy awards earlier this year. They were nominated alongside acts such as MGMT, Keri Hilson, The Ting Tings, and winners the Zac Brown Band.

“Wow, yeah the Grammys was a total mind-fuck,” Lester exclaims. “That wasn’t even on our radar, we were like ‘what the fuck are we doing here!’”

How did the band wind up where they are today? What was it that separated them from the great, unwashed mass of bands out there searching for a big break? What wisdom does Lester have for that great unwashed mass? If anything, he suggests they not emulate Silversun Pickups.

“If someone was writing a book on how to make a living being a band, (laughing) they should never use our example. God, it was terrible to do what we did,” says Lester. “We had no merchandise and we did no promotion; we just didn’t think that way. We would just play at any show and any opportunity given to us.”

Reconsidering, Lester decides that the band’s methodology may have actually been “the best way to get your name out,” yet not the best way to fund your band.

“We had no fuckin’ idea what we were doing business-wise. When we were first starting out, we were trying to figure out who we are, what we’re doing, and what it is we like,” he says. “We didn’t even think about putting out records until we did this show at Club Spaceland in LA. It was this local club in our neighborhood of Silver Lake, and we listened to these bootleg copies of our show. It was then that we decided we should record something because these tapes sounded terrible. This led to our first recording, which was for our own benefit so we could see how the recording process works. Eventually, our friend expressed interest in signing us to his label and we were convinced.”

A major factor to the group’s success was the internet, which, unsurprisingly, has been a big part of the band’s upward trajectory according to Lester.

“It’s really useful. We used MySpace, rest in peace (laughs), but it’s so much easier for small bands today; the internet is incredibly powerful,” says Lester. “You don’t need major labels anymore; bands get discovered all the time. The best part is that you don’t need to do anything special to harness the power of internet!”

Lester says that another important role in the band’s success was living in their Silver Lake neighborhood, which “worked on a practical level” when the band was first starting out.

“The neighborhood has since changed. Originally, living there was cheap, so practice space came cheap. We didn’t have to constantly make money to get by, and this definitely affected our ability to become a band, a community,” says Lester. “In Silver Lake, there are two great venues that take chances on new bands. This is essential to any band’s progression, playing live and focusing on what you want to do. We were lucky to be where we were; San Francisco is crazy according to our friends who play out there.”

 

Silversun Pickups follow a distinctive process when creating music and have experimented with their sound from album to album.

“On our debut EP, Pikul, we included songs from our first demo session plus two new songs, which we remixed to make the tracks sound like they made sense together,” explains Lester.

Two years later, the group released their first full length album, 2007’s Carnavas, which gained Silversun Pickups a following outside LA.

“We actually wrote half of the songs just for that record, and this was the first instance we spent time creating the songs in a studio. We took all the songs and recreated them so that we could come up with overarching mood for the whole album,” says Lester. “We took out the acoustic elements found in Pikul to make our new album colder in feeling. We found ourselves just taking songs and mucking with them until we liked them. The original version of [the band’s breakout single], Lazy Eye, was actually 13 min long, and it was much slower.”

Swoon was the first release by the group where all the tracks were original and written to fit an overarching theme.

“We started making Swoon immediately after a two-and-a-half year tour. We started from scratch,” says Lester. “This was a new thing for us, to shape our album while writing it. The first four songs on the album were written in the order they appear in, and then we came up with 17 or 18 possible songs to include. We whittled down the songs based and if they made sense in context with the album. Songs can be a fucking nightmare to make, but for Swoon it was all written at same time, so this is our most cohesive album.”

Though Aubert is the primary lyricist, the group writes their music together. And the music is written first.

“Brian…writes all the lyrics usually right before we’re ready to record. We write the music first in the sense that there was a lot of strife with our relationships due to the two-and-a-half year tour,” he says.” On tour you live in this bubble, and so our estrangement from our relationships made life stressful. So [Swoon] for us was cathartic; it sorted out tenseness we were all feeling. The angrier and sadder moments on the album definitely reflect the lives of everyone in the band at that time.”

Lester then shares an interesting fact about the hit single, Panic Switch. It almost never was.

“[It] was the last song created. Brian actually came up with it after we decided to stop, after we decided we had enough material. But it came together real fast, this song.”

 This afterthought, which was almost left off the album, would become the group’s first number one song on Billboard's Hot Modern Rock Songs chart, as well as the first song by an independent artist to reach this spot in 11 years.

The keyboardist adds that their hometown aids them with musical inspiration as well. Los Angeles serves as a huge presence in the music and process of the Silversun Pickups; it is where all their music has been written and recorded.

“I’d guess that if we lived somewhere else it would unconsciously change our mindset,” says Lester. “The area also had a lot of other bands and creative people, and it helps to be surrounded by such an environment.”

As for his own writing technique, Lester is something  of a homebody.

“…personally like to be at home. We just don’t write on road. I’m jealous of those who do that, those who are able to write road songs,” he says. “Being able to do that would be good since the best music is always written on the road. It’s ironic that we as a group find inspiration in the mundane; home life is where we are most creative.”

When asked if there were any downsides to working in their field, Lester is unequivocal.

“No not really. I mean, we make our living making music, so we’re really lucky. It’d be wrong to complain and sound like douchebag. Sure, we’re away from home a lot, but a lot of other jobs are like that,” says Lester. “You get better at maintaining your relationships long-distanced the more you [go on tour]. We make music for a living, there’s nothing to complain about.”

Lester then says that the group doesn’t even let the steel-faced, sometimes harsh comments from critics infringe on the creative process.

“Reviews are reviews; that’s just a part of it all. We don’t really read them, but we know people always make comparisons,” he states. “It’s understandable; they have to give a frame of reference to the reader. The comparisons are funny; it’s interesting to hear what people hear in our records.”

Silversun Pickups' sound has frequently been  comparted to various indie-rockers of the 1990s.

“We get compared to Smashing Pumpkins a lot, which is fine by me. Their first two records are amazing, and those are the ones people always compare us to. Fuck, we were just surprised to be compared to real band!” he says. “As for weird comparisons, I’m sure there has been a couple. There was one made during the original incarnation of the band, which consisted of Brian and Nikki and their significant others. This group was referred to as ‘the Fleetwood Mac of alt rock’ (laughs). It’s always interesting to hear what others hear in our music, so if someone hears, say, Public Enemy, then so be it.”

Lester gives a word of warning to bands aspiring to be critical darlings—“You can’t try to write music for reviewers; life would be stressful all the time.”

The band also embrases more than just the comparisons to the music of past decades. They even year for the days of analog.

“Oh yeah, I feel everyone in Silversun Pickups would say their favorite way of listening to music is with vinyl. It just sounds so much better, and it’s really making a comeback. I personally think digitization creates this longing for older formats of music,” he continues. “I’m this way with keyboards; I really miss those old analog keyboards. One thing about vinyl is that the artwork of an LP is so much more appealing, you feel like the record has an actual presence instead of staring at a meaningless screen of ones and zeroes. Vinyl is glorious; I’m a total sucker for records.”

Does Lester ever listen to the band's music? “I don't listen to radio much, so, no (laughs). I only ever listen to our songs after we finish rehearsing, just to figure out how we can orchestrate a live performance of a track. Live adaptations definitely require planning unless you have backing tracks, which is totally lame.” he says.

Silversun Pickups are on tour now, as they have been for ages You can find out tour dates and more at the band website.