TRANSVERSO

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Chicago

Watch Fallow Land's New Music Video for First 'Pinscher' Single, "Faux"

New MusicWeston PaganoComment

"There is no god waiting for us," warns Fallow Land's Whitaker Fineberg over "Faux"'s reverb bed. "We're all alone and we're all corrupt."

The lead single is quite a dark harbinger for Pinscher, the Ann Arbor-based duo's debut EP due to be self-released June 30, especially following the comparatively sunny "Are All My Bad Decisions Rock And Roll?", which Transverso premiered back in 2015.

What inspired this heavier turn? As Fineberg tells Transverso, "Faux" was born out of a desire to strip oneself down and rebuild in someone else's image and the subsequent realization such a tactic was failed from the start. 


I wrote ‘Pinscher’ while making sense of a recent breakup. “Faux” was a failed last-ditch effort to make the relationship work. As we drifted apart, the term “incompatible” was frequently used as we discussed the relationship. “Faux” expresses my desperate desire to conform to someone else’s needs and the realization that the only way to do that was to change some of the characteristics that made me “me.” This, of course, proved to be impossible. Relationships that are predicated on a false understanding of self are ultimately doomed.

"Faux" sees Fineberg's haunting vocals deftly combined with bandmate Evan Veasey's searching guitar, set to a droning haze, and interspersed math rock-tinged bass and percussion fits and starts. 

Check out the accompanying grim video directed by Stephen Levy and Jordan Anstatt, as well as Pinscher's cover art shot by Andrea Calvetti, below.

Directed by: Stephen Levy and Jordan Anstatt Color by: Jacob McKee

If "Good Songs Make Ya Rich" The Orwells Prosper on 'Terrible Human Beings'

Music ReviewVincent BlackshadowComment

Even though they’ve only been around for two and a half records, it’s hard to deny that The Orwells have already earned some polarity. They’re not as controversial or divisive as, say, Obamacare or Passion of the Christ— but considering the plague of apathy that has replaced most record collections, they’re not doing half bad. Or maybe they are doing exactly half bad: Some people love ‘em, and some people hate ‘em.

It makes perfect sense that their most recent and decent contribution is titled Terrible Human Beings.

I’m no statistician, but I’m learned enough to know that the rowdy Chicago— sorry, Elmhurst— two-car-garage rock quintet is not always viewed in a positive light by their hometown music enthusiasts. Many local patriots lament the band’s popularity, claiming that their Letterman-induced “like-spike” went straight to their heavy heads. Other natives pounce on the opportunity to share rumors and unflattering stories starring the band members.

One thing is for sure, though— there are some fucking good songs here.

Recorded in a month at Steve Albini’s Electrical Audio (good heavens, talk about divisive), Terrible Human Beings doesn’t exactly pick up where 2014’s summery Disgraceland left off. Gone are the Strokesy “Who Needs You”s and the bright, youthful drum production. This record is just sonically deeper, tighter, and darker. However, partiers need not worry— The Orwells have hardly stopped having fun, and the new record expands on some of the better ideas expressed on their earlier stuff.

Relax. The band is quite literally all growed up, that’s all. 

"They Put a Body in the Bayou” opens, in all of its mod-revival glory. Band spokesperson and guitarist Matt O’Keefe can’t quite remember where it came from, but it fluently establishes the album’s theme of slightly fucked-up pop songs.

“Alright, make it quick—good songs make ya rich...”

Another stark contrast between Terrible Human Beings and the earlier ‘Wells output is singer Mario Cuomo’s surge in lyrical maturity. I mean, it’s not that we weren’t satisfied with his “gimme a smile, then take off your pants” shtick, but he’s far more effective here, celebrating new topics such as insanity and vengeful decapitation in the same slacker drawl.

Cuomo notes that his younger bandmates are partially responsible for pushing him out of his lyrical (southern) comfort zone. From the political hints in “M.A.D.” and “Vacation,” to the romantic mutiny of “Ring Pop,” and a tribute to one of America’s most underrated songwriters in “Black Francis,” the gangly frontman’s snarly sentiments cleverly stumble on the line between stupid and smart.

Sykoya Combines With RJ Pickens for an Enticing Remix Of "Shiver"

New MusicNic Ten GrotenhuisComment

Chicago-based producer RJ Pickens has linked up with the London's vibrant indie pop act Sykoya for a remix of “Shiver," which originally appeared on Sykoya's Strange Night EP earlier this year.

The eerily beautiful vocals of frontwoman Anna Marcella blend excellently above the synth melodies and constant drum pulse while the electronic samples pair with their organic piano and bass to bring out a refreshing twist that makes “Shiver (RJ Pickens Radio Edit)” a track that you can dance to and also relax with at the same time.

RJ Pickens has been active in shaping Chicago’s dance scene with over 15 years of live DJ and production experience, during which he's supported Eric Prydz, Hernan Cattaneo, and Jody Wisternoff.

“Shiver (RJ Pickens Radio Edit)” is out today by Vested Recordings. Listen below.

Transverso's Guide to Pitchfork Music Festival 2016

Music ListTransverso MediaComment

Chicago is no stranger to music festivals. From Lollapalooza to Spring Awakening, the city boasts such an impressive lineup of lineups that it takes a uniquely impressive roster for a festival to stand out.

But over the past 11 years, Pitchfork Music Festival has carved out a space as one of the most consistent and distinctive weekends of the festival season, and it returns to Chicago’s Union Park this weekend to protect that title with a lineup that’s as confounding as it is exciting. After all, what other festival would juxtapose the aggravated experimentation of Girl Band and Oneohtrix Point Never with the powerhouse pop of Shamir and Carly Rae Jepsen? What other mainstream festival inexplicably devotes a sizable portion of its lineup to intricate jazz acts like Sun Ra and Kamasi Washington? What other festival hears Sufjan Stevens’ pained folk opus Carrie & Lowell and thinks “Now THIS is headliner material!”?

Yet for all of Pitchfork’s idiosyncrasies, there are some unfortunate elements it shares with its summer festival brethren: oppressive heat, unruly crowds, and a mystifying undercard filled with bands you’ve never heard before. While we can’t help you with the first two, we can offer a carefully curated guide to this year's lineup that highlights who we're most excited to see, as well as some excellent acts you might not be as familiar with yet. If you saw two bands you love on the schedule and impulse-bought a weekend pass, this is your chance to do your homework before gates open. Eventually you'll be able to tell your friends, “Oh, I saw [insert buzz band here] before they blew up,” as you’re waiting to see them headline a much larger festival, and after all, isn’t that what Pitchfork is all about?

Fire up the playlist below and check out Transverso's staff picks for this weekend:


FRIDAY


Car Seat Headrest (Red Stage - 3:30)

In the recent avalanche of acclaim for his excellent Matador-released duo of LPs Teens of Style and Teens of Denial, Car Seat Headrest mastermind Will Toledo has been repeatedly praised for restoring dignity to that once-mighty staple Indie Guitar Rock. Whether or not “white dudes with guitars” is a genre that needed any help is debatable, but it is notable that CSH is opening the festival; after all, this is a band trafficking in a sound that once defined blogs like Pitchfork, and it’s a band that does it better than pretty much anyone else. Toledo is operating at the top of his game, both as a dynamic bandleader and a bluntly engaging songwriter, and you owe it to yourself to show up early and see him in action. (Julian Axelrod)

Whitney (Blue Stage - 4:15)

Buzz bands, man; they build and build into this ascendent phoenix, and at no point does anyone entertain any sort of demise (who would be liable for blame here... oh yeah, Pitchfork). Whatever the year, there's going to be one or two groups that materialize seemingly out of nowhere, and everyone believes "this might be the one." Which one, you might ask - no one really knows; it all seems vacantly aspirational. Following the Chicago locals' debut Light Upon the Lake, Whitney is 2016's buzz band du jour, but there's something about the former UMO man Julian Ehrlich-fronted melancholic machine that feels more purposeful than buzz bands passed. It's as if the mellifluous tones act as a misdirect from the calculated drive that "will be the one" to overcome the all too familiar buzz band descendent. Plus, they've got some dulcet guitar tones from Smith Westerns veteran Max Kakacek to go along with euphonious falsetto of Ehrlich. (Sean McHugh)

Moses Sumney (Blue Stage - 5:15)

There are some musicians whose make music so personal and achingly intimate that it seems almost perverse to see them perform in a festival setting (and many of them are playing Pitchfork this year!). But something about Moses Sumney’s music feels perfectly suited to a mid-day festival spot, where audience members can sway along as his ghostly falsetto dances around his hymn-like rhythms like an afternoon wind through the trees surrounding the Blue Stage. The California singer-songwriter doesn’t have much recorded output (he’s currently working on his debut 7” with Grizzly Bear’s Chris Taylor) but the opportunity to witness an astounding talent like Sumney before his inevitable ascent is hard to pass up. (Julian Axelrod)

Twin Peaks (Red Stage - 5:30)

Is scuzz rock a thing yet? Who knows? At this point, it seems almost certain there's going to be some reticent all-father of scuzz rock that will surely have a "sublime" rock-doc chronicling said public reservation, but for the time being, modern scuzz rock has been catapulted to the media-savvy masses due in large part to Chicagoans Twin Peaks. Lynch-ian name aside, the dudes in Twin Peaks will crush the grimiest hits only to turn around and slice you with a deft riff of garage punk wonderfully debased by scuzz pedals. Its a masterclass in punk rock sensibilities, with all five members likely to make a mockery of the pretension expected at Pitchfork. (Sean McHugh)

Mick Jenkins (Blue Stage - 6:15)

Let's be real here, Pitchfork is lacking heavily in the arena of hip-hop, rap, of urban culture in general. Feel free to attribute such a fact to manicured digits of Conde Naste, or perhaps this year was "thin" on "quality" rap artists. (Oh wait, it wasn't/isn't.) Thank goodness for Mick Jenkins - the bracket-ly inclined rapper from Chicago is bringing some swerve to a considerably emotionally, consciously, emphatically tepid lineup on the first day of Pitchfork. Expect to see Jenkins finally perform some tracks from his recently completed [T]he [H]ealing [C]omponent, along with tracks of the stellar [W]ater and [W]aves(Sean McHugh)

Carly Rae Jepsen (Green Stage - 6:25)

Is Carly Rae Jepsen an unknown artist waiting for her big break? No. Is she on an independent label? She is not. Is it weird that she’s playing this festival at all? Yes, it is very fucking weird. But put aside your preconceived notions about labels, genre, and fame and put on “Run Away With Me”. Listen to the opening saxophone wail, the breathy vocals and breathless crescendo, the heart-stopping beat before the massive chorus. Imagine experiencing that live in a giant park with a bunch of sweaty Pitchfork readers. Savor how weird and wonderful it is that one of the most prominent pop stars of our time is on a festival lineup with Sun Ra Arkestra. Pitchfork Fest only happens once a year – why not have some fun? (Julian Axelrod)

Broken Social Scene (Red Stage - 7:20)

One of the greatest indie bands no one seems to talk about, know about, or understand. At the very least, the Canadian collective has seen a revolving door of members that have gone on to become Feist, Metric, Stars, Tortoise, and Jason Collett. They've put out a handful of some of the greatest indie-records of the past two decades - You Forgot It People in 2002, and a self-titled LP in 2005 - and yet people still seem to have overlooked every last ounce of great music BSS has produced. While the complete lineup for BSS has not yet been determined (there have been times where only six members play a set, and nineteen the next), don't be surprised to see appearances from some of the larger names borne out of BSS (looking at you, Leslie Feist). So for the love of all that is good in the world, go pay your respects to your indie deities and see Broken Social Scene. (Sean McHugh)

Shamir (Blue Stage - 8:15)

Hi, Hi, howdy, howdy, hi, hi; Shamir is playing Pitchfork Friday night. This is going to be a dance party unseen by any other act sharing the Friday evening bill with Shamir. I highly doubt you're going to see any new-age Madonna vogueing mixed with Harlem Fela Kuti at Beach House or Twin Peaks, but you will definitely see it in one way shape or form at Shamir's set. Still running off the power of Ratchet, Shamir's sweet demeanor on stage mixed with the playful panache of his lyricism will undoubtedly make for a fun time while closing out the festival for the evening or finding some emotional respite before heading into the vibe-heavy Beach House set. (Sean McHugh)

Beach House (Green Stage - 8:30)

Rarely will you see a band perform so gracefully despite being so far out of their element as Beach House at an outdoor festival. In an interview with Pitchfork themselves, guitarist Alex Scally recounted how the 2007 edition served as a disastrous first festival appearance for the dreamy Baltimorean duo, as they failed to adjust to the conflicting noise and quick pace. Fast forward to 2016, and coming off the back of a one-two punch of stunningly gorgeous albums in Depression Cherry and Thank Your Lucky Stars, the pair are undoubtedly set to put in a far more veteran shift in their fourth Pitchfork appearance nearly a decade later. While the exposed stages of the outdoors will never offer peak conduciveness to the trancelike Beach House experience (and you do owe it to yourself to witness them at their best), having seen them at both ends of the spectrum from Bonnaroo's afternoon chaos to an intimate, dark theatre, I can attest even their lowest point is still swirling somewhere up in the loveliest clouds. (Weston Pagano)


SATURDAY


Circuit Des Yeux (Green Stage - 1:00)

Oh boy, here you go folks - if you fancy yourself an aficionado of good or "hip" music, or if you're one of those jagoffs that loves to say "I saw them before they were big," then here's your chance. Circuit Des Yeux is the work of Jackie Lynn, a highly prophesied Gemini out of Franklin, TN, that has since wandered her way up to Chicago to bring her femme fatale experimentalism to Pitchfork. Think if David Bowie met Roseanne Cash did tabs upon tabs; their vision quest brought them to Circuit Des Yeux. Its going to be a guaranteed weird old time. (Sean McHugh)

RP Boo (Blue Stage - 1:45)

One of the egregiously overlooked pioneers of Chicago footwork, RP Boo is going to bring some heavy grooves to Pitchfork to break up all that indie rock and brooding. Its probably going to be a small crowd at RP Boo's set, but that's fine by him, because Kavain Space is accustomed to being underrated and flipped over, but don't expect his music to be any sort of by-product of such an unfortunate reality. Be ready to dance your ass off at this set. (Sean McHugh)

Kevin Morby (Green Stage - 2:30)

You may know Kevin Morby from his stints in bands like The Babies and Woods (who also play Pitchfork this year), or you may know him from his excellent solo career. But you don’t have to know him from Adam to enjoy his warm, lived-in folk rock, which recalls the likes of Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen in its lyrical specificity. (Check out “Dorothy,” a love song so heartfelt and tender you don’t even notice it’s about a guitar.) If you’re trying to kill time on a warm festival afternoon, it’s hard to do better than Morby’s propulsive, sprawling Americana. (Julian Axelrod)

Royal Headache (Blue Stage - 2:45)

A gang of punks comes to America from Australia. They call themselves Shogun, Law, Joe and Shorty. They proceed to fuck shit up. If this sounds more like the plot of a Mad Max sequel than the backstory of a Pitchfork act, that’s because Royal Headache are not your average buzz band. Over the course of just two albums, the group has perfected their signature brand of tuneful, heartfelt garage rock, bringing the acidity and wit of '70s punks like the Buzzcocks into the 21st century. If nothing else, you should check out their set to witness Shogun’s throat-scraping howl in person. (Julian Axelrod)

Savages (Green Stage - 4:15)

Go to Savages' set, for the love all things that are punk rock and not indie, go to Savages' set. Jehnny Beth (who recently made non-news with her "feud" with fellow fest act Sufjan Stevens) and her cohorts in Savages put on one of the best and most impressive live performances in terms of bravado and pure wall of sound fury. There's no frills of "hey guys, we're so honored to be here," but rather an unabashed smash-a-bottle-over-your-head existentialism that is a right of passage brilliance. Savages are arguably one of, if not the best live band on the festival circuit in 2016, so consider their set to be a nice upper before you head into the smooth grooves and grinds of, say, Dev Hynes. (Sean McHugh)

Blood Orange (Red Stage - 5:15)

Dev Hynes, otherwise has known as Blood Orange, distills what it means to have a contemporary musical sensibility. Drawing from everything, whether it’s post-punk, '80s soul, pop, and funk, free jazz, or the Golden Age of hip-hop, Blood Orange isn’t afraid to take genre and obliterate it. Coming off his critically acclaimed 3rd studio album, Freetown Sound, Dev has mastered his craft and his message. If there was ever a time to see him, now is the time, and like Kendrick Lamar, Blood Orange’s music is dialed in on the current state of affairs in this country. Do your do-diligence a favor by seeing this artist perform. Also, the man can dance. (Andrew Meriwether)

Brian Wilson performing Pet Sounds (Red Stage - 7:25)

This will be short - it doesn't matter who you are, what music you prefer - go see Brian Wilson. He's playing arguably the most formative pop record in all of music, Pet Sounds, in its 50th ANNIVERSARY, its a modern masterpiece, and a relic of what led to all this indie nonsense we listen to now. Go see Brian Wilson, you dopes. (Sean McHugh)

Anderson Paak (Blue Stage - 7:45)

I’ve never scheduled a music festival before. It seems like a tough job; no matter where and when you put each act, people are going to be upset that two of their favorite bands are playing at the same time. That said, what were the festival organizers thinking when they scheduled ascendant singer-rapper-musician Anderson Paak to play opposite Brian Wilson? Did they not think these two polymath masters of California soul would have any shared audience? Regardless, Paak’s set is required viewing for anyone who couldn’t care less about the Beach Boys. On his sun-kissed opus Malibu, he gleefully skips between sounds and styles, displaying a disregard for genre that comes with knowing he excels at everything he tries. If you don’t want to spend your Saturday night seeing a legend’s last bow, you can spend it watching a legend in the making. (Julian Axelrod)

Sufjan Stevens (Green Stage - 8:30)

Let's be honest, if you read Transverso, you're probably a Sufjan Stan. So you're already planning on bawling your eyes out at his set, as you should. It's a no brainer, and if you skip it, you might actually be brain dead. (Sean McHugh)


SUNDAY


Kamasi Washington (Red Stage - 3:20)

Its amazing to consider the fact that someone who is likely to go down as the finest modern neo-afro-jazz performer of a generation keeps getting thrown into such shitty festival slots. Kamasi's 2015 release The Epic is already one of the greatest albums of the decade, and will likely continue suit to become one of the best in the first half of the first century of the new millennium. Expect to be torn about by torrid saxophone and heaving afro-beat fusion only to be rematerialized by neo-classical soul that only Kamasi could provide. (Sean McHugh)

NAO (Blue Stage - 3:45)

Hey you hipster dopes! Here's another artist playing Pitchfork that (if you're lucky) you'll happen upon and two years from now, gleefully gloat about having seen her before she blew up! Or you'll just lie, because you know she was on the bill, but you didn't go because you actually just listen to the same homogenized aesthetic of music! Neo Jessica Joshua is going to break onto the scene like no other electro-funk artist has. She encompasses the pure new age R&B revivalism that music counter culture has so willfully embraced, and will undoubtedly usher in a new era of pop and R&B sensibilities to trip-hop and the like. (Sean McHugh)

Empress Of (Blue Stage - 4:45)

The Chicago Reader recently published a piece criticizing the gender disparity of Pitchfork’s lineup, and while the festival is definitely lacking in female artists, there are plenty of incredible women scattered throughout the lineup. Take Lorely Rodriguez, who records thoughtful, incisive electropop under the moniker Empress Of. Rodriguez’s songs play with a subtle tension between listener and artist, from her frantic beats to her pained cries to the topics she addresses in her music, such as gender roles and class disparity. She's also coming off a recent feature in Blood Orange's impressive Freetown Sound, and you can see her on Sunday to prove that incredible artists can always draw a festival audience, regardless of gender. (Julian Axelrod)

Neon Indian (Red Stage - 5:15)

Here's one of the most indomitable indie-pop electro bands to cut their teeth in the post-Aughts era, and they just continually manage to get wedged in between other sets for one reason or another. But that never stopped Alan Palomo and co. from putting on a hella good show, and put on a good show they will. Their 2015 release, Vega Intl. Night School was criminally overlooked by many a mediocre media outlet, but look out for standout tracks from the record like "Smut!" and "61 Cygni Ave" in the live set to keep you more than just interested. (Sean McHugh)

 

Jeremih (Green Stage - 6:15)

Every year, it seems like the indie crowd decides it would be ironically funny, or charitable (get over yourselves) to randomly select an early-Aughts R&B stalwart and suddenly plaster the "cool" ascription upon them. 2014 it was The Dream, 2015 T-Pain, and it looks like 2016 has seen Jeremih receive the indifferent title. Whether you're up to snuff on your knowledge of early-Aughts R&B or not, you have got to see Jeremih for the deep cuts off of his self-titled and stay for the dark hour virility of Late Night as well as Jeremih's rumored collaborations with PARTYNEXTDOOR. (Sean McHugh)

Thundercat (Blue Stage - 6:45)

It’s rare for session players to attain solo stardom, and that feat is even rarer for session bassists. But most musicians don’t have the vision, talent and ambition of Stephen Bruner, aka Thundercat. Whether you know him from his work with Kendrick Lamar and Flying Lotus, or his own jams like “Oh Sheit It’s X,” Bruner is a force to be reckoned with live, wielding his four-string like a weapon and leveling crowds with intricate basslines. There’s a good chance you won’t see anything else like Thundercat all weekend. (Julian Axelrod)

FKA Twigs (Green Stage - 8:30)

Non-conformism has become a little overwrought with this current generation of "don't you dare put me in a category" generation of pop-artists, but they all inevitably wind up being pretty much one in the same. FKA Twigs, however, is unequivocally her own entity, to the point of which it seems almost as if Twigs' role as pioneer pop fatalist has seen the likes of Madonna and Beyonce try and mimic (and of course, fail). The former choreographer not only has sumptuous and tempestuous post-R&B beats to help fuel the live performance, but her falsetto is so enviable, its hard to picture anything other than a cherubim uttering at the same octave. (Sean McHugh)

Oneohtrix Point Never (Blue Stage - 8:45)

You're looking at one of the most acclaimed electronic artists in the history of the genre in Daniel Lopatin, and you're getting a chance to hear one of the seminal genre records in a decade live - what more could you need to be brought to the set? (Sean McHugh)

Cullen Omori Talks 'New Misery,' Tour Cancellation, and Life After Smith Westerns

Music InterviewSean McHughComment

If you’re an indie buzz band aficionado of the early twenty-teens, you likely touted Smith Westerns as one of the preeminent “buzz bands” in their class. As it seems is the natural course of most relationships, endeavors, and bands started in high school, the members of Smith Westerns began to develop divergent views when it came to their future direction, and subsequently disbanded.

Since the dismemberment of the band, former frontman and Chicago native, Cullen Omori, set out to grasp the realities of embarking on a solo journey, making demos initially intended as post-band-breakup coping mechanisms, that after some extended basement sessions, materialized into Omori’s sublime Sub Pop debut, New Misery.

In the midst of a cross-country move, Transverso spoke with Cullen over the Bluetooth speaker system of his Fiat rental as he combed the Hollywood Hills in search of his future Los Angeles homestead.

"Cinnamon" off the March 18, 2016 Cullen Omori album New Misery Order New Misery: http://u.subpop.com/1T4Nwo9 Cullen Omori Twitter https://twitter.com/CullenOmorii Facebook https://www.facebook.com/CullenOmoriMusic/ Instagram https://www.instagram.com/cullenomori Sub Pop https://www.subpop.com/artists/cullen_omori Sub Pop Records http://www.subpop.com Twitter https://twitter.com/subpop Facebook https://www.facebook.com/subpoprecords SoundCloud http://soundcloud.com/subpop MegaMart https://megamart.subpop.com/ VIDEO CREDITS   Director:  Abigail Briley Bean www.abigailbrileybean.com  Video Production House: Mitra


CULLEN OMORI: Let me just jump in my car real quick, it's air conditioned in there. So anyway… Alright. I’ve got like this crazy rental car… and it's like a Fiat. The little tiny Fiat thing, so it’s a super… it's got like a computer thing in it that I can use as a Bluetooth so I can talk to you over the car.

TRANSVERSO: Cool.

So what’s up? Lets talk. Fire away.

Alright. I guess I’ll start out with something general: How do you feel having New Misery out for a while now? How do you think people have interpreted it? Are you pleased, or are you kind of bummed out?

You know, it’s a mixed bag. I spent so much time making the record and, I mean, the record was done and mastered last August, but it took six months to come out and that was kind of annoying, and to have my “maiden” tour blow up the way it did with my van breaking down and the rental van that we got just to go back to the airport got broken into and my clothes got stolen.

That must have been rough.

I mean, it’s a story for sure, and it’s a crazy story, but it's like those things were all kind of real big bummers. I don’t know, I think right now, I’ve always been… with Smith Westerns, I’ve always had really good reviews and this time around its been mixed. I think a lot of people in the US haven’t been getting it in the same that all my European or UK reviews have all been like super super good. You know? Its kind of like people have been missing the point and, I don’t know, that’s kind of annoying. But I’m not trying to write for like critics. Usually, it just so happens that critical people tend to like my music a lot more than like a general audience. This time around it’s a little different, but at the same time… I don’t know. I guess I do. I’m a little annoyed because I feel like I made a record that sonically is really different, but still has a lot of complex, deeper things that people kind of take at face value. Kind of like, “Oh these are songs that some Millennial would write about,” like “Losing the indie spotlight” or “Falling out of some popular band,” when it wasn’t that. It was that was part of it, but there were so many other kind of themes of coming out a self-destructive thing and being so fucked up all the time on drugs, and just not knowing kind of what I was going to do next. And kind of just working through that and while working through that I wrote this album, and that was more what it was about, more so than like “Oh, I’m bummed that I’m not in Smith Westerns any more.” I could give two shits about being in Smith Westerns right now, and I also really hate that I’m getting pegged where people are kind of like “Oh yeah, this is like Smith Westerns,” and it's comparing it to it, and people will send me messages that are like “Can you make a song that’s like this Smith Westerns’ song?” and it's like “Shut the fuck up.”

Absolutely. That has to be irritating.

Yeah. So I guess it's mixed about how its been received.

Sure. I figured that’s probably the downside of once being involved in the “indie darling” or “buzzband” cycle. It seems like it might create this sort of undue expectation of anything that might come after whatever the initial entity was, and that sounds like something that you’re dealing with right now.

Yeah. Well the thing is Smith Westerns wasn’t Coldplay – we weren’t this huge thing – and I like to think of it as I can go on and have a life after Smith Westerns and it doesn’t have to be held up to it. You know? I feel like as the frontman of the band, I’m kind of unfairly labeled as whatever I make, when really it was this whole process of me and Max writing the songs. It wasn’t just me doing everything. So yeah. Also, coming out of a bad situation, Smith Westerns kind of just gelled together and all of us sort of were doing well, and the path was obvious that we would keep making music with it. But after I left, there was no path. It wasn’t like “Oh, I should go and write another record,” and one of the cool things in writing this record was that it was an exercise in letting myself know that for me personally that I can sit down and write an album start to finish all by myself. I could do all the parts that otherwise, Smith Westerns were too afraid to try, or they thought were going to be bad, or whatever.

So it's like an exercise in songwriting for me, and so I still like the record. It's not like anything has turned me off to how I feel about it. I still feel strong about it, I support it, I think they’re good songs that are smart. I think that unfortunately, it's not a record that people… well, you know, I feel like right now with indie music, if you play guitar, you go two ways with it – you can go shoegaze-y or you can go with this '70s light rock shit. Its like jingle rock, and I really wanted to make something different, so I thought at the time a year and a half ago “I wasn’t going to be playing jingle rock doing the '70s stuff,” you know? Everyone has been doing rip-off Todd Rundgren or rip-off Canned Heat or whatever, so I was like “Well, I’ll try something different.” I wanted to make a song with synth. I wanted to try something that has soundscapes that were these songs that could technically be, you know from the '70s or '80s. And I also really wanted to move away from the revivalist idea – I didn’t want to make something where you could be like “Oh, these guys are trying to hearken back to like some era of guitar rock” or whatever. You know? I wanted to make something that was more kind of “my sound,” and I felt like it was appropriate being twenty-something, well when I wrote this album I was 24-25 and I thought it was appropriate. Also, it was my fourth record, so I could really start trying to move away from my influences and starting to really do it kind of “off the cuff.” I thought there was something that – I’m not going to say its my “sound” now – but it was more kind of less leaning on a certain genre, or a certain sound, or a certain band to make it sound right. It was a different experience too, not working with a band; that’s always weird. You know, with Smith Westerns, you could split work together – me and Max would work a lot – having a sounding board to bounce ideas off and change things, which was great, but at the same time, it would become limiting when Max and I had different ideas of where the music should go, and what we should be sounding like and stuff like that.

Right. You mentioned there was a “weird” trend in “revivalist” sensibilities in indie rock and what not – at this point, would still consider it to be “revivalist” or would you just consider it to be “en vogue” or something to that effect?

I mean… I think its very much a trend right now. I think that there are always bands, for as long as I’ve played music, and for as long as I’ve been recording music and can remember – there’s band that will go off of a certain vibe, or a certain genre or whatever. I think that now, however, the attention those bands are getting is huge, and its just part of how things go. It's circular, you know?

Sure, most things are.

And for now, its going to work for people, but I feel like I made a record that kind of was three years too early or three years too late or something, you know? It was probably two year too early, because its not any of those things. And that’s the other thing, too – even if I fail at something I don’t want it to be something where people can be like “Oh, he’s ripping off that band.” I think I did a pretty good jobbing of taking all my influences and melding them into this record. You can’t be like “That’s the Elton John song,” or “That’s the Flaming Lips song” or shit, I don’t know. Its all kind of spread out.

Well what comparisons have you seen people try to ascribe?

The only comparison I’ve ever read about is when people say something like Tame Impala, but I don’t even listen to Tame Impala to be honest. I was singing in a John Lennon-y kind of voice in 2010, so it's not like any of my music is a reaction to current music. That’s not how it works for me.

Its stylized in a manner of which is unique only to you, but do you feel like people take the stylization too seriously? Like with the US audience, you said it doesn’t quite “mesh.” Do you feel that people are taking you having been in a band like Smith Westerns too seriously to be willing to open up to Cullen Omori?

That could be a possibility. I feel that when I was with Smith Westerns, I didn’t feel like I was this huge public figure or anything like that. So, I didn’t feel like if I was, it ever benefitted me. I don’t think I get a huge benefit from being the front man of Smith Westerns. If there are any connotations connected to me being in the Smith Westerns, they’re negative – things that I did when I was twenty years old. They think that I’m like bratty or I’m pretentious, but people forget that there were two other dudes in the band – my brother and Max – who were equally as bratty and pretentious as I was. I didn’t use my name because I wanted to go solo. People weren’t like “Oh yeah, Cullen Omori, check it out.” I used my name because we were mastering the record and they needed to have a name and I couldn’t come up with one that I didn’t hate, you know? So I just used my name. Its one of those things where there might be some bloated takedown when they can’t accept something like when someone [else] has a “clean slate” would - like a musician that they wouldn’t know anything about other than the music. I feel like people also form their own narrative about who I am, and what my music is about, and that’s literally formed people’s ideas – word of mouth – that’s formed people’s ideas of me on some things. It's still all over the place, but I feel like people are building their own narratives for me, and it's not a good one. Unfortunately, that’s how it goes, but I think in Europe or the UK, they don’t have that the same way here. I guess I just pissed off the wrong people when I was in Smith Westerns.

Why do you think that is?

Because at the same time, when you look back at music history or whatever, you these “coffee” guys or like the type of guy that only writes music because they couldn’t find the music they liked to listen to, because “everything sucked” and so they made their music or whatever, and people celebrate that. But I think now, with the internet, Twitter, and the press in general, there’ll never be a next level rock star, because they’re constantly tearing them down. The persona has to be this guy that’s always humble and they can be like “Oh, I want to get a beer with that guy.” There’s no longer the idea of being this presence on stage that’s larger than life. Its like this “cool” real vicious energy and people don’t want that – it makes them uncomfortable and they want to tear it down. And I don’t think that that’s how I am, but I think being a front man and having it all kind of be about me, I think that feeds into the concept that people have this idea of me being a pretentious asshole guy, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m making music that I want to hear, I love performing, I love the aesthetic. My favorite part of this album that you make, you have to create this interview around it, you know? You have your album artwork, you have your videos, and that’s something that I take a lot of pride in doing; I’m a part of that from beginning to the end. I don’t want to say I’m not getting a fair shake or try and complain about it or anything, but I feel like my past isn’t there to help me, it's only there to hurt me. For whatever reason its stuck to me more than anyone else, you know? Like I read about the dudes in Whitney, or whatever.

It sounds like you’re almost just experience this curse of being the frontman despite your main intent to just make music you want to make, as opposed to appealing to a larger mass that may have listened to something you made in the past.

Well, I mean the idea… the narrative that I had was “I want to make pop music,” I think that people go and see that I went away from a band to being a solo artist that wants to make pop music, they think that I’m trying to capitalize on something, or it’s a money grab. That’s not true at all. When I say “pop music,” I mean that I still make music that isn’t dead to a lot of music history, and people that know music know good bands, everyone from the '60s to now; it's all in there, its all in my music. Its not like I’m trying to become Selena Gomez, or anything like that. Its just that I can appreciate something that’s melodic and immediate and trying to work something that is so over the top – like when you think of pop at the top, you think that it's grasping to be as marketable as possible – and try and take that and warp it, like I do with all music that I’m interested in. Its kind of real representation for myself, and its something that isn’t selling out; it’s a cool thing. I think there’s something to be said about making music that a fucking six year-old girl can get into, as well as a seventy year old man, you know?

But [I'm] staying true to my principles, and not selling out in a musical sense, and I think that often goes with not trying to play into that retro-revivalist seventies shit that’s kind of being accepted into the “indie spirit.” I’m just going to do my own thing and play around with what works. Right now, I’ve just been listening to nothing but Ministry, and I want to go really heavy for the next record. I just want to play around do whatever the fuck I want to do. Luckily, I’m in a position with Sub Pop that I can do whatever I want – they are so behind me in every way – even when my van broke down, I went to their office and just hung out for two days, Jonathan Poeman drove me to the airport and made sure I had everything – that I had a hotel and everything after my shit got stolen – that’s something I’ve never had before with a record label. I’ve never had that kind of acceptance and kind of support. It's cool and it makes me want to create, and I kind of feel like this maiden tour that I did that ended up blowing up is just part of my story now. Nothing I’m going to do now is easy – its not like coming out of the Smith Westerns, make this record and coming out at a different place. That’s that. I think part of it not being easy, and part of it being bad luck hanging over me… when I’m backed into corner I think is when I’m at my best, its when I’m my most creative. I have the kind of ability to draw upon whatever kind of emotion or anxiety to really crush whatever comes next, so that’s kind of how I approach it. I kind of let it rip me apart, and that’s where I got New Misery, I was slowly in self destructive mode, and I did not care what was going to happen to me. For a while I realized that the only thing I’m even halfway decent at is making music; everything else, I suck at. Everything else, I am less that amateur at. The only thing I know how to do is put together some chords and write lyrics that people can relate to, and that’s a cool talent to have. Its something I didn’t really appreciate until now, until I made New Misery.

It sounds like you’re trying to maintain a positive yet stubborn rationale even despite your string of bad luck, did that reenergize you at all when it came to working on your demos?

Yeah, it took me a second. During New Misery I felt bad for myself for a lot of the time, I did for a second when all that stuff fell apart on that tour, and I had to clean house a little bit with different people that were working with me and try to really figure out how to do it again. I mean, I’ve being doing it now for seven years – being in the music industry – and I know that I fuck up. You know you’re going to mess up. Its like, what am I supposed to do.

[Cullen calls out “What are you doing?” to a passerby while driving.]

Hey, sorry there’s a guy in a wheelchair being a dickhead. Anyway… It does make me create but it also kind of… what’s the word? I don’t know, I’m a very pragmatic person – like while on tour, that’s why I bought a van rather than rent - but the one thing that doesn’t makes sense is that for me, is that its all stress. Not with the writing part, but everything else that goes into making an album happen. And touring, there’s so much stress, and there’s no guarantee that I’ll ever not be kind of looking at anything other than the next year, you know? I don’t really think any further than that, I still want to do it, but there’s a part of me that kind of just defies the logic of “should I take it easy?” but I say no, I’m just going to keep on doing it. That may sound kind of emotional, like… what’s the word? Like a fucking… motivational speaker, or something like that.

I think that’s conceivably the best attitude you can have facing the stuff that you’ve experienced. In a way, you’re maintaining an indomitable spirit about the whole thing – you’re not feeling sorry for yourself, but at the same time you’re not saying you’re going to go conquer the world in a day. There’s a realist approach to it.

That’s how I do it, and that’s how I’ve been doing it. Its stressful or whatever, but at the same time, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve grown into this role; I’ve grown up doing music my entire life. There’s no formula to follow – everything’s different. There’s no right way to get somewhere, but there’s a lot of ways to have missteps doing it. But I don’t know, I guess right now its like, that toured got fucked in the US, I’m going to Europe to play some shows, and then I’m going to come back to do some more tours. I also really want to start supporting some bigger bands – I think that I’ve been out of the music scene for so long, but back in the day, I had really good relationships with different bands. But now its kind of a different scene – Chicago only has a handful of different bands: Orwells, Whitney, me, and a couple of smaller bands. There’s not much of a scene. What I want to do with music is – I’m not sure what I’m going to do for the next record – but what I want to attempt is really go outside something totally different, you know? Like not have it be '70s guitar riffs and love song lyrics. I mean my mind is constantly going. I’m like manically going and so hopefully something will click and work. I think this record is good, I think New Misery is really good. Its like, I don’t know if the singles were the best representation of what the album was, but I think that for me, everyone that I showed it to at Sub Pop, everyone has a different favorite song on the record. There was no go-to “This is the single of the record,” everyone was willing to give an idea on what they think about it, and that’s awesome, because that means that the record is chalk full of real songs, and that’s something that doesn’t necessarily happen with other bands. But at the same time, I don’t exactly know what people like, there’s no formula. If there was, I would experiment and try to fuck it up.

You mentioned you’ve been listening to a lot of Ministry as of late – have you been leaning toward a certain album more than others?

I like kind of like With Sympathy. I like the stuff where they’re kind of new wave-y. I’ve been reading the Al Joregeson autobiography and its amazing – its so good. Its like he’s this out of control junkie, he’s crazy. I don’t know, that was a part of music I just kind of stopped listening to - something really heavy, like super heavy, trashy. But I’m starting to get back into Ministry, especially the stuff where it was kind of still super poppy, like the new wave stuff was really interesting. Its kind of like the category of music that I’ve been making. I’m a pretty anxious and angry person, and I don’t really present it in my music – my music is more cathartic than it is straight up in your face progressive, and I think that the next thing I want to get away from is how dreamy everything is and how smooth most of the songs are, to get [to a point] that makes it a little bit harder. I grew up around punk bands, and Smith Westerns was very much like a shitty punk garage band, and I feel like that would be a really cool thing to do.

Have you ever leaned over into any RevCo stuff yet?

I’ve listened to a few things, but I haven’t really gotten into. The autobiography is so good - if you haven’t read it, you’ve got to read it – all his stories are so fucking funny.

I’ll have to check it out.

I’ve always been like “Oh, I should read it,” but I wasn’t going out of my way to get it, and then one day I just walked into a place and it was there. One of the stories that he tells is every single time they played a show on tour as Ministry, I think there was a limit to anything over 90 decibels, and they would never do it, they would always play above it. They would get fined every night, and it was like a  $20,000 fine every night. And the label said they won’t pay, they wouldn’t do the tour support, so I guess Al jerked off into a Ziploc bag and sent it to the A&R guy and then the guy calls him and says “Did you send me drugs, what is that? That stuff smells like shit!” and he was like “No! That’s my fucking cum, if you don’t pay us, everyone on the crew will start sending you our cum,” and they got the tour support.

That’s insane.

I know! It was so good, it was so funny.