Arcade Fire 04: Howard Bilerman

The final installment from the Arcade Fire vaults, interviews conducted for this story in Exclaim in September 04.

Howard Bilerman is a longtime leading light of the Montreal scene, primarily as co-proprietor of the Hotel 2 Tango studio in Mile End (the studio's initials comprise the first part of the neighbourhood's postal code). In addition to most of the Constellation roster, he's recorded people like Angela Desveaux (also drumming on her album), the Dears, Pony Up, and Thalia Zedek. Bilerman co-produced Funeral with the band, and served as their drummer for the year it took to record it.
At the time these interviews were conducted, his future in the band was in doubt. I'd been informed beforehand that he was likely not going to continue with the band, but no final decisions had been made on anyone's part. One of the main reasons he ultimately left is that he didn't want to abandon Hotel 2 Tango, which continues to thrive, and that was the official reason given.
One can also speculate that personality differences might arrive because Howard was ten years older than the group's strong-willed bandleader. But though Howard has outspoken political beliefs on the state of the music industry, and would likely be uncomfortable with some of the minor concessions Arcade Fire has made to the industry machine, the band has remained on Merge and turned down plenty of lucrative offers to retain their independence and integrity. To my knowledge, Howard has never commented on the record regarding anything Arcade Fire-related other than for this piece (whoops, and this piece, not by me, which is a gear geek article).
Despite the precarious future ahead, I deliberately treated Howard as a full-time member of the band in the piece, as I felt he was just as important to the album's realisation as the rest of the band, and without his skill as both an engineer and a drummer, Funeral would have turned out much differently.
Jeremy Gara (Kepler, Snailhouse, Jim Bryson, Julie Doiron), a longtime friend of Tim Kingsbury and Richard Parry, was one of several drummers who played the Funeral release show in Montreal; he's played every Arcade Fire show since, also serving as the band's road manager during the first several months after Funeral's release.

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Howard Bilerman

August 11, 2004

locale: Arts Café, Fairmount and Jeanne Mance, Montreal

Had you heard the Arcade Fire before they showed up at your door, lonely, in need of a studio and a drummer?

(laughs). When I was recording Molasses, Scott Chernoff, who works with Tim, passed me their EP and said, ‘Do you want to hear the next greatest band in the world?’ (laughs). I was like, come on. I listened to the EP, and it didn’t really grab me so much. I thought it was a band who did have more of an identity than others, but that hadn’t really found their sound yet. A few weeks later I got an email saying that they wanted to come to the studio to record two songs. I told them I’d like to see them play beforehand.

Do you normally do that?

No, but I had a suspicion that it would be more difficult to record than other stuff and I wanted to know what I would be faced with. I went to Win and Regine’s kitchen and the band played ‘Wake Up,’ and I was just knocked on my ass. It was such a huge leap from everything I had heard on the EP.

Who was there?
Everyone who’s in the band now, with Arlen of Wolf Parade on drums. And he played on the studio version too. We did a few days of recording, and then Win emailed me saying that they were looking for a drummer, and if I could recommend anyone. I had just recently picked up playing drums again after so many years of just recording bands.

Had you even been playing at home?

No, nothing. I played drums on one song on the last Silver Mt. Zion record. That’s what made me realise that I love playing drums and expressing myself that way. I told Win that the only person I could think of was me—that was available, anyway. I know tons of great drummers, but they’re all in 19 bands. I didn’t hear anything for a week, and we were recording the whole time. They didn’t say anything the whole time, and it was like asking someone to the prom and having them tell you, ‘Hmmm, I’ll get back to you.’ Even though the prom might be next weekend.

At the end of the recording session, they asked me if I was serious about my offer, and I said absolutely. We practiced the next day for an hour, and then I started playing live with them that September.

What was your last band before that?

[long pause] The last band I played in was the last incarnation of a band called Frog Machine, in 1996. By then it was called The Famous Meats. That lasted for a few months before it disbanded.

What other Montreal bands did you play with?
Oh no, you’re not getting that one from me! (laughs, before revealing all, off the record) Once the studio started getting going around 1997, I just had no desire to hear music outside of the time I was spending recording.

Do you record many pop bands at Hotel 2 Tango? Because it’s known mostly for the stuff on the Constellation roster.

I recorded more pop bands before I moved into the Hotel. My studio was called Mom and Pop Sounds in Old Montreal. I did the Paper Route, early Tricky Woo, Les Secretaires Volants. I think I’ve recorded about 200 bands, and about half of them would be poppy.

One thing that strikes me about this record is how big it sounds, yet how raw it is, in all the best ways. There are a lot of layers that could easily become overproduced, overly bombastic and bloated.

I had to put my foot down a bit. I can’t stand records that are more about production than songs. Reverb and delay and compression were used very sparsely. The recording of Funeral was a car crash of so many different influences. Richie loves Brian Eno-type production, and I don’t ever want to ever put production before the music. Win, for his vocal treatment, at the beginning was very uncomfortable not having his voice supported by effects. I tried to suggest more interesting ways than your standard reverb and delay. Plus, I also think that effects tend to date a record. That whole bombastic orchestral type of production from the past five or six years really bores me, and I think it’s been done to death. (off the record opinions on specific examples)

I especially love Regine’s vocals on “In the Backseat,” when she’s hitting the stratosphere. Other people might have the tendency to dress that up or turn it into a Celine Dion moment, but here it’s very raw and honest.

Richie recorded that vocal. I recorded all the beds, set up the mics and went away for a week and gave them the keys to the studio. They tracked a lot of the overdubs. Win had a heavy hand in setting up the initial mixes, and he was very good at it. It was a great way to work He would hear something in his head and set it up, and I’d say, ‘I think it’d be better if we moved this guitar off to the side, or add some EQ.’ He would have a breath of fresh air and I would get my hands in there, sometimes changing it drastically, sometimes not at all. Then we’d just ping-pong back and forth and at the end of the night we’d have a mix.

More so than a lot of other people I know, both Win and Regine have very high standards for themselves and the band and how they present themselves. They don’t want to settle for less at any point. Even after I’ve seen them play the most incredible show, they’re always self-deprecating about it. It could always be better. Did you see that drive in the studio?

I saw it instantly in Win that music is in his blood. And it’s always refreshing to meet a band—and I’m talking about all of them—who care more about making music than being successful at making music, who are working on music and living up to the responsibility that I think should be involved in putting out a record. I also definitely saw some impatience. Sometimes Win gets very obsessed over wanting things to happen right away, and I don’t think it’s a negative thing as much as it is he’s young and eager. The way he and Regine work together, they really do come from two opposite places and meet in the middle.

She was telling me that she never wanted to be the girl in a rock band playing keyboard and tambourine. How have you seen her drumming evolve?

I think Regine is an amazing drummer. What makes her an even more extraordinary drummer is that she plays open-handed. She plays like a left-handed drummer would, but she’s right handed. [demonstrates] She has so much fun, and it’s really beautiful to see someone discover their instrument and enjoy it so much.

I know that you have Merge connections going back a while. Did that play a role in how the record landed there? I was listening to the new Portastatic and noticed that you’re credited in the liner notes with ‘gear assistance.’

It’s true. I met Mac and Laura when Superchunk opened up for Mudhoney at Foufounes in 1991. Then they came back a few months later. I got to know them just because I’ve seen about 20 Superchunk shows and hung out with them. More recently, Mac was setting up his home studio and had a lot of questions that I helped him with, emailing back and forth. Did it have any effect? Yeah, I’m sure that opened a door for the Arcade Fire to be listened to ahead of the 100 CDs that get sent to Merge every week. But it certainly didn’t make them like it.

What was it like for you playing Mergefest?
It was weird! Because I’d spent 13 years in clubs waiting for Superchunk to play, hanging out with Mac and Laura. Then we went to Chapel Hill and hung out and it was my drum set on stage. It was surreal.

I’ve always enjoyed watching people’s first reactions to the band.

This is the most beautiful thing about this time for the band, and it’s a time that will come to an end when the record comes out. When we toured with the Unicorns or do one-off shows, 95 per cent of the audience has never heard an Arcade Fire song, let alone seen us. So there’s no expectation. By the end of the set, it’s beautiful to know that you’ve won over some people. Even now when we play Toronto now it’s all expectation and anticipation and there’s a bar that’s been set that we have to live up to. It’s already changing. It’s still going to be exciting, though.

There always seem to be so much invested in any given show, and the passion that comes off the stage always feel genuine and real.

The Arcade Fire has never made the decision to put on a ‘show,’ or to perform with a given amount of energy. That’s just what happens when those six people get on stage. I can’t see it any other way. It’s not put on. Which is not to say that it’s not tiring and taxing and you don’t feel like you’ve run a marathon at the end of the set. I just can’t see it being any other way. Nor would I want it to be.

Anything else I should know?

I have very little tolerance or patience for any aspect of this industry that isn’t directly involved with making music. I found it very difficult as soon as the Arcade Fire became quote-unquote the band to watch when parts of the industry came out of the woodwork to quote-unquote help us. It makes me very suspicious and uncomfortable and it almost makes me not like being in a band. Ultimately, it’s meaningless.

The help, or being in a band?
Definitely the notion that they want to ‘help’ us is meaningless. They want to make a dime off our buck. Which is their job, I guess.

That’s the record company’s job, too.

But at least Merge has shown over 15 years that they’re more on the artist side than the industry side. Knowing them and seeing how they work, they’re far more interested in their bands being healthy than selling tons of records—and that’s rare. I’m talking more about critical acclaim and acclaim from managers and agents and other record companies. To me, it seems meaningless and is a knee jerk reaction to someone, somewhere saying, ‘You must like this band.’ It’s more important that we like the record we made, and that our families and friends like the record we made, and that it touches people. It’s been difficult to navigate, I’ll leave it at that.

How does this cover story fit into that?

I’m well aware of the hypocrisy involved in, on the one hand, not wanting to partake in that industry, and on the other hand potentially having my face on the cover of Canada’s largest music magazine. For me, it’s more about the integrity of the people involved. It’s more about that … I think what’s really beautiful about the Arcade Fire is that we’ve never asked for press or attention, which is quite different from the way most bands operate. I know that it’s based on word-of-mouth, rather than a publicist or a press release.

Howard emailed me the next day to follow-up on some of our thoughts, for the record.

"music is very very important to me...i can honestly say it changed my life...became my life at quite an early age. i keep this in mind when making records & certainly when performing live with the AF. as musicians & performers, we must always remember that music gets people thru stuff...that maybe the whole day at school is alienating & oppressive, but that listening to your favorite record on the way home somehow makes you feel yourself...normal...happy...free. life for me wasn't the same after i heard the clash & the violent femmes...it was the first time i felt people were speaking directly to me thru their music....it's something i can only hope i can participate in from this side things."

"the only system i believe in is one that is 100% independent. major labels have such a bad track record with artists, due mainly to the fact that every corporation boils down to a dollars & cents operation. even if you & your bevvy of lawyers walk away from the major label table with some amount of a "head-above water" deal, you are still making money for an industry that does not really care for the health & well being of its artists. this is not some leftist conspiracy...it's a story that has been documented by decades of musicians. so, if this record makes money for merge, i know other artists will directly benefit from that...and that's a decision that i can sleep well with."

-end-

Arcade Fire 04: Tim & Richie

More Arcade Fire files from the summer of 04, just before the release of Funeral, all conducted for this Exclaim cover story. As always, I'd recommend reading that before diving into the ubergeek fest that are the unedited transcripts.

These conversations took place at a time when they had no idea who would respond to Funeral, or how or why. Opening a U.S. tour for the Unicorns was the biggest thing that had happened to them. There's a innocence to this time, before every interview focused on how they were dealing with their success, before every question focused on everything except the music itself. That said, even know I know them all personally, there's always a guarded hesitancy when the microphone is turned on. Much of what you read yesterday and today was accompanied by plenty of second guessing, qualifiers and long pauses. It makes sense that a band who puts great care into every little thing they do wants to make sure they get it right before they go on the record.

Having been lucky enough to receive a copy of Neon Bible today, it's immediately apparent that there will be plenty more musical discussions, not media ones, to be sparked in the coming months. It's just as dense, dark and joyous as Funeral, with mountains of sonic detail that make each successive listen more rewarding than the last. I'll hold off on saying any more until I get a full grip on it.

In the meantime, today's chat is with Tim Kingsbury and Richard Reed Parry. Both are multi-tasking instrumentalists, both deserve credit for helping rescue the Arcade Fire after it seemed like the whole project was in peril. Richard also leads the instrumental band Bell Orchestre, with AF's Sarah Neufeld and sometime AF sideman Pietro Amato. Before Arcade Fire, Tim and Richie used to play in a band called the New International Standards; Tim has slowly been working on a new solo project when time permits.

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Arcade Fire

Tim Kingsbury and Richard Reed Parry

August 10, 2004

Locale: La Sala Rossa dining room, Montreal

How did you both meet Win and Regine and get involved?

T: Richie met them first.

R: I almost lived with Win. I answered a roommate ad he put up, which read: ‘I found a great place above a bar which means you can make a lot of noise all the time.’ I called him, but it was too late. Later on I met him through his friend Josh [Deu]. At that point, Josh, Win and another friend of theirs were the Arcade Fire.

Did you ever see that incarnation play?

R: No, I kept missing them.

T: Didn’t you see them once in class, or something? And you were not that impressed?

R: Oh, that’s right. They played in my electronic art class, and I thought, who are these American assholes? It was Tim Kyle, Josh and Win. They were supposed to be doing an interactive electronic art presentation; Josh was in my class. Instead, he called in his buddies to sing a folk song, that I didn’t like very much, on acoustic guitars. The electronic portion was that they had these Christmas lights that blinked at a certain part of the song and a non-working video installation of a video Win had made. I was really unimpressed.

When did you become impressed?

R: We became more friendly when they came to see the band I had with Tim, the New International Standards, and one by one they told us they liked it. Then I saw them at a loft show, and it was great—really great, it kind of freaked me out how much I liked it. I was sick for a few days after that. It was a matinee show at a loft above Barfly.

Tim: The same thing had happened to me a few weeks before that. It was Win, Regine, Brendan [Reed], Dane [Mills] and Myles [Broscoe]. Anita [Fust] was playing harp when I saw them. I was totally shocked at how much I liked it. It was way quieter than it is now, and there was no real P.A. at this loft. Win was singing through his guitar amp. Brendan was really striking to me; he and Regine were really fun to watch. And Win was hard to ignore. [all laugh] And I had the songs in my head afterwards, which doesn’t happen often.

How long were the New International Standards around and who was in it?
T: That was about two and a half years. It was the two of us and Annesley [Black] and a rotating line-up of drummers, including Mike Feuerstack. This guy named Juan knew how to play Latin beats really well—all the Latin beats that the New International Standards ever needed to know. [laughs]

How would you describe it? At all similar to Arcade Fire?

T: Not really, no. It was mostly Annesley and my songs, a couple of Richard’s. It was pretty mellow, pop.

R: But not, also. [awkward pause, laughs] It was not unrelated to the Wooden Stars. We’d get that comparison a lot.

T: I was on tour with Aaron Booth and the New International Standards stopped being a band.

Were both of you there when Arcade Fire recorded in Maine?

R: Theoretically I was just there recording, but I ended up playing on everything.

T: Later that fall I’d wanted to get something together again. Royal City was playing at La Sala Rossa with Broken Social Scene, and I wanted to play the show. I emailed Lisa [Moran of Three Gut Records] to see if I could do a solo set or get a band together. I was talking to Win, and he had wanted to play it as well. We agreed that we would do it together, doing a few of my songs and the rest Arcade Fire songs. We ended up playing one of my songs. [all laugh] It was only because of lack of practice. It was way easier for me to learn Arcade Fire songs, which I already knew.

That was their first show in six months, wasn’t it?

T: Yeah, their first since the summer. About six months before the CD release when the band broke up.

R: After I got home from that summer, I took a break from hanging out with them. It was when Bell Orchestre started being more of a band. We had existed previously, just doing music for dance performances, but we decided to just be a normal band for a while. Then I saw that show with Royal City, and I’d forgotten how much I loved their music. Before that, my saturation point hit in the summer. The band was a mess in Maine, it was a total disaster. Too much intensity. There were two halves of the band that weren’t talking to each other, and I was the only one talking to both. It was not was I was expecting.

Was it a productive month?

R: In a way.

T: They ended up doing a lot of work when they got back, though. They did overdubs for two or three months and mixing and everything.

R: Compared to how productive it could have been, it wasn’t that productive at all. But we didn’t really have a plan, either. We cobbled together some gear but it wasn’t functional at all, like we didn’t have speakers to listen to what we were recording, so we ran it through guitar amps. It was technically half-assed, and the relationships were skewed and not very healthy.

Was the Casa show in March, 2003 the first time you played with them?

R: I think so.

T: That was the first time I saw you with them.

What do you remember about that show?

[nervous laughter]

T: Being scared, and feeling sick at the end. It was a pretty big deal how many people were there. There was so much tension in the band then.

Had it been building since the summer?
T: It was pretty complicated. I don’t know how much I should say on the record because it’s not my place to say.

What I remember was that the room was so full, that unless you were in the first 10 rows of people at the front, you probably didn’t see what happened. People at the back were all going nuts, and everyone at the front was stunned. I was talking to Win and Regine this morning about the state of the band at that time, and it seems like right after that everything started falling in place.

T: That was right when Will [Butler] got here. That was the first show he played with us.

R: So the three of us were the new band.

T: We played a few shows with Dane and Brendan, but it melted down. Win had already decided to dissolve the band at that point. We did a couple more shows, but Brendan and Dane didn’t make it to all of them.

Was there a point when you felt like things were in place?

T: Around then, Richie, me, Win and Regine felt more like a unit. We didn’t have a drummer, but after not too much longer it felt like there was a new base.

What made you both want to be in the band and commit to it, when you both had other things you could have done? Or were still doing?

R: I’ve always liked playing with Win and Regine. At the time when New International Standards were still happening, there were a bunch of times when me and Tim would just go over and jam. It was fun. It wasn’t consciously forming a band. It was more enjoyable just to dick around and play rock music. There were so many ideas flying around, and it felt good—which it doesn’t always, playing rock music. It can often be a fate worse than death, in some ways, trying to start a rock band from nowhere. It can feel so silly.

T: I found the Arcade Fire challenging in a way that playing with other people has never been. Often I’d play something and be happy with it and look around and no one else would be nearly as excited as I was. I’d just shrug and move on, and eventually I’d find something way better than what I would have originally settled on.

R: I felt the same thing.

Do you think it pushes you in ways that Bell Orchestre doesn’t?

R: It’s totally different. Bell Orchestre doesn’t happen if I’m not there. Arcade Fire will happen if I’m not there. It’s not my baby. I love it and it’s become a big part of my life, but I didn’t start it.

Something that’s always struck me about this band, and knowing you personally, is that Win and Regine have extremely high standards and are very hard on themselves, always pushing to be better.

T: Definitely. Musically, for sure.

R: All of us are aware of the lack of… I don’t want to come across as a dickhead, but there’s not much…

T: Careful, Richie!

R: Everybody really wants to be doing something really good. Everybody’s not just there to play rock shows for the sake of playing rock shows. Everyone really, truly wants to do something really special.

That comes through in the passion of the performance. You’re not a band who just sets up and plays and stares at their shoes, and there’s no ironic distance—‘hey, we’re putting on a rock show.’ Right from the opening notes, it’s always a real show. And I love watching the audience watch you, especially if they’re seeing you for the first time.

T: It is a spectacle. The band definitely has a unique physical presence: the tall red-headed kid with the wide open mouth beating his drum; the tall blond-headed Texan who is scaring the hell out of everyone in the room; the shorter Haitian-French girl who’s dancing around and being really intense… I don’t even think I stand out very much. I’m just the guy who looks like he’s trying to keep the bass line going.

R: You’re the least outlandish.

The choir boy who stumbled into the chaos.

T: The songs, too. We often start with ‘Wake Up,’ with this Atlanta Braves kind of thing, which we’re singing at the top of our lungs and it’s kinda hard to ignore.

R: It’s kinda like ‘We Will Rock You,’ really.

Is it draining?

T: I feel it’s energizing. When we start that song—and I know Win feels this way all the way through the set sometimes—but I feel like I’m gonna barf.

R: At Hillside I almost puked or cried during that.

T: But it’s fun. I love it. I hope it will energize people a bit. It’s easy to go to a show and watch it and be bored or think it’s nice. I’ve been to shows like Calexico, where the music filled me up and made me want to go home and create something. I’d love to be able to do that. [ed note: Calexico's horn section guests on Neon Bible]

R: The shows where the music is an emotional catalyst, that’s the best thing—when you come home from a show and feel like you can climb a building. If one person in the audience is super inspired to go off on their own and do something exciting, it would make my day.

I know some of you come from religious backgrounds, and the music has a stirring, spiritual side. How does that play into it, if at all?

[long pause]

R: Whew! Them’s deep waters.

T: From talking to Win, one thing that he feels strongly is that death is very real. He incorporates that into his songs. He’s pretty scared of the idea of sitting around and not doing anything, of following a spirit that will ultimately lead to nothing. That’s where a lot of the lyrics come from. Even the theme of the record—a lot of it is Win’s ideas.

R: On a conscious level I share that, which is part of the reason I’m in this band. I know that’s a big idea for Win, but it’s a huge idea for me. On a conscious or unconscious level, I’m sure it is for everyone. There was a specific point for me where you’re really engaged with the idea that you’re going to die, and now what are you going to do? It’s easy to go through life and not fully engage with that.

T: I think it comes across in everything you do. You can tell when people are on fire with something. For me, there have been points in my life when I’ve been writing songs but I didn’t feel like my heart was in the right place. It’s easy to get stuck in a routine or a habit. I think part of what this band is about is actively avoiding that state.

R: In terms of what makes the live show happen, this is kind of an obvious thing, but everyone in the band has specifically been very inspired by certain music, really inspired, and as long as you have had that little spark in the past, it’s almost a natural thing that you want to pass that on. You want to show that.

Is it hard to maintain that every night on tour?

R: Not really. I still feel like we’re coming from the same place at every show.

T: Sometimes, but usually it’s just due to tension in the band or some dumb thing will throw you off that’s discouraging. It’s not hard to get it back.

R: I think what I was trying to say before is that I think everyone in this band has been profoundly been inspired by a musical moment or another, enough that they have to make something special happen themselves.

It sounds a bit evangelical.

R: In a weird way, yeah. That’s the nature of any quasi-spiritual or inspirational moment. It doesn’t really let go of you. You have to put some of that back into the world.

Are you happy with the record?

Both: Yeah.

I got the impression that if Merge hadn’t imposed a deadline that you’d still be working on it.

T: I’m really, really glad Merge gave us a deadline.

R: I listened to it today all the way through, and thought, ‘Oh, god.’ There’s so much I wanted to change or do better. But I’m still happy with it.

What did you learn about touring with the Unicorns last month?

T: One thing that was inspiring to me was that the first time I saw them, I didn’t care at all. I thought they were an awful band! Musically, I thought, ‘What the hell is going on?’ I always thought some things were cool, and Nick and Alden have always been great. But touring has turned them into an amazing band. They play so well and have such a good energy, which I think came from touring, and that gives me hope for us. There are certain things about us that are unrefined, and could use some refining.

And you’re going to learn that from the Unicorns?!
T: I know, it’s pretty funny!

How was Mergefest for you?

T: Great. It was funny having Lou Barlow open up for us. I’m sure it was just because he didn’t have a band, but still, what the hell? He was really into it, really encouraging.

As the new band there, did you feel like the new grandkids crashing the family reunion?

R: We were like the new adopted kids from the foreign country, but everyone was extremely welcoming. I was really inspired by how family-like the whole thing was. Seeing the Superchunk show—seeing the hundreds and hundreds of people who love them and know every word and have clearly been there for them for so long, that was beautiful. And Superchunk being there 20 years later or whatever was really inspiring. Everybody there totally believes in what they’re doing and they love the music.

[only super geeky folk or official biographers dare read the rest]

I just have some final fact-checking questions. Tim, how long were you in Gentleman Reg’s band?

T: Oh, that was a long time ago. I don’t even know. It was me and Jamie [Thompson of the Unicorns]. I was still in high school. I think it was for a year or two. I think I only ever played one show outside of Guelph with Reg.

Then you moved to Ottawa and played with Clark?
T: Yeah, but before Clark was this band called the Killers with Geoffrey Pye. That was fun. Then Clark for about a year and a half. There were lots of others that no one has ever heard of. Stewart Gunn Band.

But Richie is on records that everybody owns, right? Weren’t you a child star of sorts?

R: I wasn’t a child star, I was in a community of people where there were a lot of records being made.

T: Come on, you were a child star!

R: I was on the Sharon Lois and Bram records, Eric Nagler and Fred Penner records. Me and my sister would oftentimes be in the children’s choir on those albums, and my parents played on a lot of them.

T: Are you credited on them?

R: Oh yeah. It was all Toronto people, the Mariposa Folk Festival crowd and their kids. My dad’s band was the Friends of Fiddlers Green, who were an infamous Canadian folk band on Stan Rogers’ label.

The mandate was any Canadian folk song over 100 years old, wasn’t it?

R: Pretty much. It wasn’t a mandate, but most of the songs were pre-1900. And my dad put out a couple of his own records which were pretty good. We were a musical family, but I was never taught how to play anything and we didn’t sit around jamming or anything. We were just ‘doing’ music. We had a Christmas show that we’d do at the Tranzac Folk Club in Toronto every year, the Parry Family Christmas Show.

You studied electro-acoustic music at Concordia?
R: Yeah, that and contemporary dance.

Were there other bands for you before New International Standards and Bell Orchestre?

R: Yeah, lots no one has ever heard of. I played in an Ottawa band called Big Fish Eat Little Fish for a little while.

So did you move Toronto-Ottawa-Montreal?

R: No, more like Toronto-England-Toronto-Israel-Toronto-Ottawa-Toronto-Montreal.

Did you two know each other in Ottawa?

T: No.

R: No, but I did see you open for Joan of Arc in Ottawa.

T: Really? Wow, that was my first gig in Ottawa.

Is there anything else I should know?
T: This band is a sweatshop. Get me out of here! I’M DYING!

-end-

Arcade Fire 04: Win & Regine

Like most people, I fell in love with the Arcade Fire the first time I heard them. Unlike most people, that was on a poorly dubbed, unmarked cassette that came packaged in a regular letter envelope that read "with love from the arcade fire," the word love replaced with a red heart. I'd bought it from singer/keyboardist Regine Chassagne at La Sala Rossa in Montreal on December 1, 2002, where they had opened for Broken Social Scene and Royal City (the latter band of bridesmaids were the headliners, which might be hard to believe today). I was in town scoping out apartments for my imminent move, but missed their set due to my primary mission. Nonetheless, everyone there was raving about them, and at $2, the cassette was hardly a gamble.

Their story since then is well known. The debut EP, featuring some of the tracks from that cassette, was released in March, 2003; the band almost broke up on stage at the release show. A new line-up started recording what would become Funeral in the summer of 03; it was released in September 04 on Merge Records. That same month, I wrote this cover story in Exclaim magazine, the transcripts from which will comprise the next few posts.

I've had the immense pleasure of witnessing the band in just about every conceivable concert setting: tiny venues playing to almost no one (but not the legendary London, ON show where they literally DID play to no one), endless shows where audiences stood wide-eyed in wonderment and discovering their new favourite band, CD release shows in tiny Montreal bars and huge churches, the Hillside Festival in Guelph, a tiny show at Mergefest in Chapel Hill, and Central Park in NYC with David Bowie. They never fail to thrill, even at their worst shows (like an afternoon set at Arlene's Grocery during their CMJ coming out party, where I found myself standing beside Merge's Mac McCaughan and Sire's Seymour Stein chatting away).

The new album is called Neon Bible and it comes out the first week of March. Two songs are now available: "Intervention" is for sale at iTunes, and "Black Mirror" can be streamed at their website here, if you click on "Win's Scrapbook." They put up a very amusing commercial on YouTube over the weekend.

I'll write more in later posts, but let's get to the meat, shall we?
Part one is with Win Butler and Regine Chassagne, the married couple who are the core of the band. This interview was postponed for about a month while they were on tour in the U.S. with the Unicorns, and we didn't have time to do it at either Hillside or Mergefest. This was squeezed into the only free morning they had before my deadline.
Interviews with Richard Reed Parry, Tim Kingsbury, and Howard Bilerman will follow in coming days.

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Arcade Fire
Win Butler and Regine Chassagne
August 10, 2004
Locale: Café Amandine, corner of St. Urbain/St. Viateur, home to the finest and most frugal eggs benedict in Montreal

It seems to me that you disappeared for a whole year to make this record. I remember hearing a version of “Wake Up” a year ago this week. Almost every day of every week whenever I’d bump into one of you, you’d always say, “We’re still recording!” Was it really that intense?
W: When we first went into the studio, we just wanted to record two songs—“Wake Up” and “Power Out”—while [his brother] Will [Butler] was in town, to put out on a single. We just did three sessions, three days, and we didn’t do anything else for a long time. We didn’t really start again until the winter, because we didn’t really have a band at that point. We taught [Wolf Parade drummer ]Arlen [Thompson] the song the day before we rehearsed it. Regine played drums on “Power Out,” but that didn’t end up working out. It wasn’t like we went in to make a record. Then we started playing with [producer/drummer] Howard [Bilerman] right after that, so we had to get to be able to play again.

Was it important to take a lot of time recording? A lot of people’s first record they want to do as quickly as possible, or as cheaply as possible.
W: We weren’t actually in the studio that much. The thing about this time was that we had to work around our schedules. Everyone was working, and I was still in school, and the studio was booked a lot. We were second priority fitting in whenever there were holes. There were five days when Howard went away and Silver Mt. Zion was on the road, and we got the keys and we were in there for 24 hours a day pretty much. It wasn’t a situation where we were a band for a long time before, touring the songs. We were trying to figure out how to play together and arrange the songs.

Would you still be recording if Merge hadn’t given you a deadline? You were still recording and remixing right down to the wire.
W: I wish we had more time and money. I think we did pretty good with what we had. Maybe we’ll have more time next time. But I don’t want to take more time, I just want to have more time in a row. We could have done the whole thing in a month if it was a solid month.

The more I listen to it, there are no wasted notes. Everything is very constructed and deliberate and layered. I can’t imagine going back and thinking of what you would change. It sounds fully realised.
W: I don’t want to ever mix a record again.

You’d rather hand it over?
W: Yeah. This was a weird situation because since we did a lot of recording when Howard was gone, we’re not good at labelling what track was what. It would have been impossible for a third party to come in, because it was so unprofessional. Like halfway through the tambourine track, Regine’s vocals might come in. We’d try to jam so much into the tracks we had. The mixing/mastering period was so hard. I hate it. You lose a lot of perspective. “Haiti,” which has turned out to be one of my favourite songs on the record, almost didn’t make it on there. We were so depressed with the way it sounded. We were so overloaded from working and thought it was such a piece of crap. Every day we were tormenting ourselves. Regine and I worked on it for five days, doing a completely different mix, stripped it down and got rid of everything. Then Richard [Reed Parry] and Tim [Kingsbury] came back after being away a while and said, ‘No, this is crap.’ So we went back to square one and redid it. It turns out that I like it a lot and I listen to it a lot. It was the same thing with “No Cars Go” from the EP.
R: We almost didn’t put it out. It was such a mess.
W: It sucked so bad. I just assumed that it wasn’t usable. When we were in Maine [where the EP was recorded] listening to it, we just thought, ‘Oh god, this sucks.’ After working on it for a while, I went back to it after assuming that it wasn’t going to be on the record, and I thought, ‘Well, it’s not worse than anything else.’ (laughs)

A song like “Haiti” was one of my immediate favourites, because it wasn’t one I’d seen you play live, as opposed to everything else here. But even the sound of it is very different than the rest of the album, different textures and instrumentation.
R: We were scared of that one too.
W: We did a demo of that on the computer, just to flesh it out. We had these two organs at my house and threw up a room mic and me and Richard just did some stuff on the fly. We ended up really liking it. And there was a percussion track we really liked too. We ended up using this electronic kick, the organs and this percussion track from the total rough mix as the backbone of the real song.
R: It was one of my favourite things. I had to go to work, teaching arts and crafts to kids at the school just over there. And I came back, and they had recorded this.

But you added vocals later.
W: That took fucking forever. That song didn’t have a vocal melody.
R: We had the words.
W: But we didn’t know how it was going to sound. Because the sound was so bizarre, the way it was recorded, it was really important to find the right vocal sound. We kept recording vocals, and the song would sound worse. It was better as an instrumental. We had to try and find a sound that would sit in the mix and actually make the song better.

I don’t know if you went through various sequences, but it’s paced perfectly. “Tunnels” opens beautifully, and “In the Backseat” is an ideal closer. It feels like a full narrative, and there even seems to consciously be two sides of a vinyl record.
W: There definitely is a side A and B. It’ll be nice to hear it on vinyl, because I think there’s a natural flow to the two sides, and that was intentional. But it was a pressure thing. We had to submit the artwork three weeks before we were done. We had to decide the order without having final mixes. We didn’t even know if “Haiti” was going to make it on the record.

Yet it bleeds well into “Lies.”
W: That was intentional. We knew it would sound good going into the other one.

Were these songs always intended to be a group? Because I know you have a stockpile of other songs I’ve seen live.
W: There were a couple of others that didn’t really work out or complement the others.
R: We did all the songs we chose to do. But it’s not like these songs were born to be together.

What’s your song stockpile up to?
W: We’ve been handicapped for the past six months. We’ve written a few things, but not much. We were so prolific for the first couple of years.
R: Then all the recording, and organization, and touring…

What was that period like? Were you writing a couple of songs a day?
W: Yeah, for a while there. I think we’re getting back into it again now. You have to slow down at a certain point, too. It’s a lot better with a song like ‘Rebellion’ that we came up with while we were recording, and without labouring over it too much. Fresh stuff is better in that way.

Ever since I’ve known you, since the first time I saw the band, you’ve always been very demanding of yourselves, of your performances. It’s not something you take lightly: the show, the way a record turns out. Are you happy with the record? Are you happy with your shows lately?
R: Oh no! I’m never content. For me, I’m always at square zero trying to get to square one. [food arrives] For me, I haven’t achieved anything yet. This is a start.
W: I think the record is an improvement over the EP. Some people might say the EP is better, but that’s a load of crap. The singing on this is a lot better, for both of us. I definitely think there’s progress, and that’s what keeps me moving. We’re figuring some things out. I don’t know if it ever feels like ‘Oh, sweet, we’ve done something really awesome.’ The only time I felt really free was when Will was around and I wasn’t playing instruments all the time and I could actually think about doing other things. I feel in a rut having to perform while holding a piece of crap and trying to make the song stay together.
R: Me too! I get so angry at my keyboards. I always told myself that I never wanted to play keyboards in a rock band—that would suck! If there’s a girl in a band, she’s always playing tambourine and a keyboard, it’s so annoying. But I end up doing that anyway and I get angry.
W: The guitar’s bad too, Regine.

At least you get to walk around [with a guitar].
R: It’s like I’m sitting at a desk, it’s really annoying.
W: At least you get to sing without holding an instrument once in a while, that’s more than I do.

How often have you been playing drums now on stage?
R: There are two or three songs now I play on stage.
W: There’s a bit more on the record.

When did that start?
R: I believe it was…
W: When we didn’t have a drummer!
R: I think it was end of last summer, exactly a year ago.

When did the dress code enter the band?
R: Oh, dress code is annoying.
W: It’s in flux.
R: I’m tired of wearing the same thing all the time.

Do you, though?
W: No, you don’t.
R: I change my socks.
W: Oh, everything’s annoying, Regine! Dress code, annoying. Playing keyboards, annoying.
R: Oh, what do you want? No, I love playing keyboards. I just want to dance too. That’s my problem.

Did you always want the presentation of the show to be theatrical?
R: For me, I don’t think about theatrical. For me, it’s not something that I put on. It’s not much of a game or a character. It comes out theatrical, but I don’t think of that way.

Maybe just compared to every other band.
W: Maybe. The clothes we wear is more for us than the audience. It’s important for me to put on clothes that I’m not already wearing. It puts you in a different mode. There’s a difference between playing a show and walking down the street. You have to appreciate your audience, which makes it different from playing in your living room. What we’re actually wearing is abritrary, and it will change. It’s more for our own headspace, to make it special. Also, I was a teenager during the grunge thing, which was a reaction to hair metal and glamourous crap, and everyone wore whatever they felt like. I think it would have been unusual in the 60s to see a band not wearing some kind of stage clothes. Maybe I’m wrong. Jimi Hendrix wore really weird, exaggerated clothes.

He’d also wear that on the street, though.
W: That’s true. He lived the part.

A friend of mine looked at a picture of Modest Mouse the other day and said, ‘How come these guys always look like they’re coming over to fix your plumbing?’ But I was remembering some early shows where you were quite demanding of the audience. Very intense, where you’d almost be staring down the audience. I’ve noticed that happening less since the band has had a more solid line-up. Is that because you feel more comfortable with what’s happening on-stage?
W: I don’t know. (long pause)

Do you expect certain things from your audience?
W: The audience has a lot of power as to how the show goes, almost as much power as the band. It’s impossible for a band to make something be there that isn’t willingly given by the audience. It’s annoying when bands are always saying, ‘Come on, people, dance! Come on! Dance!’ I wouldn’t say we’re expecting people to do something they’re not comfortable with or that they’re not naturally going to do, but I think we do appreciate that the audience has a lot of power, and we’re not going to pretend like they’re not there. We’re sharing something with them and performing for them. There’s some confrontation in that naturally.

Speaking of discussions with the audience, I though that the artwork in the album looks like a contract, that you all signed. It looks like this is something you’re promising the audience. Why did you do that?
R: I wanted to do that. It’s more personal.
W: For a while we were going to make t-shirts with Tim’s home address on them. (laughs)

Why?
W: I don’t know, it’s just really personal information! The whole t-shirt would just be his address.

Not ‘Arcade Fire,’ not even ‘Tim Kingsbury’…
W: Nope!
R: Also, this makes it seem like real people, who signed here.
W: Me and Will’s signature is quite similar. The last name is almost identical. Whenever we get a rental car and have to initial things it looks exactly the same.

The way the band sounds now—is that the way you always envisioned it, or does it have a lot to do with the people who ended up playing in the band? Everyone has very distinct personalities.
W: ‘Wake Up’ was written in reaction to the band breaking up. We wanted to do something that was louder than anything we’d done before, very bombastic. We wanted the first song we played after we started playing again to be very bombastic. At least, I did. It was written as an opening song. Some of the heavier stuff, like ‘Laika,’ came from me being sick of playing acoustic guitars…
R: And xylophones.
W: It will probably swing the other way eventually, because you get sick of playing loud rock music after a while.
R: It’s a phase.

What did you think would happen in March, 2003 [when the band appeared to break up on stage, at their EP release party]? Many people thought the band would be over.
R: We were a bit depressed, but we’ve never really known what’s going to happen with the band.

Wasn’t there one show after that with just the two of you?
W: Yeah, but it wasn’t supposed to be. That’s actually when we met Wolf Parade, that was their first show. We showed up and none of the drummers showed up, and we figured we’d play anyway. It was really depressing.
R: We got our friend Josh just to play kick on one song.
W: There weren’t many people there and we just thought, ‘what has this come to?’ But we’re just going to keep going. Not playing is never really an option. It always swings back and forth between being hopeful and being hopeless. We never know what’s going on. The one bright spot of that show was meeting Wolf Parade, because we really liked them.

How long have you known Richard [Reed Parry]?
W: He morphed into playing in the band. When we got back from that summer [he had recorded the EP], we had played together a lot and become friends. He played upright bass and some other stuff at the CD release. There was a while when he was considering learning drums for us.

I wanted to ask a bit about the very beginning. Was that you and some friends in Texas, or Maine?
W: Me and my best friend Josh. I was in school in New York and was really depressed. I didn’t have many close friends and didn’t know what I was doing. I was going to this really expensive liberal arts school and taking all these classes, but I spent all day skipping class and writing songs on a four-track. That’s all I did. I thought, what the hell am I doing? It popped into my head one day that I should play in a band with my best friend Justin, who was my best friend from boarding school. We were really close and he influenced me a lot. He had this mythical friend Josh, who was even taller than me and a really talented songwriter. I thought the three of us should be in a band. So I went to a pay phone, called Justin and told him, ‘You guys are moving to Maine this summer. My parents won’t be there and we’re going to start a band.’ From that moment on, I committed to playing music in a band. It was really clear all of the sudden that it was what I wanted to do.

That was well before you moved here.
W: After that I was in Boston for a year and then I moved here in 1999. I’ve been following that trajectory ever since.

You followed Josh here. Was he ever in a performing incarnation of the band?
W: Yeah, for about a year in Montreal. Then he left. Regine didn’t know what to do in the band at first, because there were three guitar players playing all the time and there wasn’t space to do anything. But we knew she had to play and we knew we had to play together but it wasn’t really clear. As that fell apart and Regine and I started writing more, there was a sound of the two or our styles coming together that became realised more. It was real, it wasn’t hypothetical.
R: At first it was really clashing, but then we started being influenced by each other and knew what the other one was going to do, learning to adjust to each other. It was very intense, because we were falling in love at the same time.

Did Josh not want to continue with the band, or did he not like Montreal anymore?
W: It was kind of weird, but Josh had this intuition that he needed to do something else. It’s not like we broke up or anything. He just felt inspired to do something else. He’s getting married this October and I’m his best man. We’re still very close. He did all the animation on the website.

Does he write all the ooo-ooo parts in the songs? That seems to be a trademark of all his co-writes.
W: (laughs) He wrote the bass line in “Power Out.”

The Cure-like one?
[they both sing it]

And the others are “Tunnels” and “Headlights”?
W: Yeah, he helped me write the vocal melody on that one. That’s about four years old.

So Regine, you were singing jazz and performing medieval music at the time?
R: I was doing medieval music and singing jazz. I quit the medieval band a year ago. I want to sing jazz still. I think there’s a lot of possibilities there. I don’t know. I’d like to do something different.

Did you have high school bands? Any rock bands?
R: No, this is my first rock band. Before I met Win, I was really not connected to the rock band world. I started meeting all these people in rock bands, and I thought, ‘What’s with all this rock band stuff?’ I wouldn’t ever have thought of it. I was mostly making music in my head. I had a piano in my house when I was six and I started playing. I took a couple of lessons but really, really didn’t like it, but I played the piano so much. The piano was my friend. In my neighbourhood there weren’t any friends my age. They were my sister’s age or younger, or way too old.

Were you learning songs by ear or by sheet music?
R: Oh no, no sheet music. I can read now, but I’m not the best reader. I would play everything I heard, whether it was a classical song on the radio or the Super Mario theme.
W: I’m lucky in a sense. It seems like people in your family must have missed that you were such an amazing musician, otherwise you might have been pushed into a total classical world.
R: [sings operatically]
W: Because you could totally do it, and they’d be idiots not to notice. You were picking up all these classical songs off the radio by ear, and if you’d done that in my family, my mom would have made you go to conservatory and really push it. You have such a natural thing. But luckily… untrained.

Did you always want to play music then?
R: I didn’t know any musicians around me. For me it was such a privilege to meet a musician, and I would grill them: ‘You play drums? You play music? Tell me everything!’ When I was young I would think that in the best world I would hang out with musicians. It was a very naïve way of thinking. I always took music very seriously, because it was not something that was obvious. I didn’t have a lot of CDs, so everything I heard was very important.

If not rock music, what were you listening to?
R: A mix of so much stuff. I listened to the Beatles a lot, jazz, classical. Every music that I don’t understand, I’m automatically interested, because I have to figure it out. That’s what happened when I was really young and I heard jazz. It was, ‘woah.’ I had to listen to it until I got it. My understanding of music is totally personal, because I remember those moments when I was listening to jazz and I had those little songs I would tape off the radio, like Charlie Parker. One day I heard the same song, but not Charlie Parker doing it, but I knew the changes and it all clicked. ‘This is the same song, but they’re just improvising over it!’

The floodgates opened!
R: Exactly.

When did you start playing in the medieval band, then?
R: In CEGEP [Quebec’s post-high school pre-university schools]. I was really interested in it, because it works on a completely different aethetic than any modern music, from the Renaissance up to today. It’s a completely different era.
W: I think a lot of people confuse Renassiance music and medieval music.
R: Yeah, it’s much weirder than that. [sings cartoonish version of Renaissance music]

Was that with people your own age?
R: People my own age. This girl wrote in the school paper, ‘Do you want to play in a medieval band?’ I thought it would be interesting, but I went and it was just a bunch of girls singing. I was about to quit, but we finally found some guys and it got a little better. Even then it was a bit, ech. Then we got more instruments and it got a bit more rock and I was happy.

You were playing what?
R: I learned to play recorder really well, by accident basically. (laughs)

Hmmm. Just like the drums, the piano…
R: We played this big show with my medieval band for New Year’s Eve, and I was playing recorder and everyone was dancing like crazy, almost like a rave. It never made any sense to me. For me, recorder was like in grade two, so boring.

So Win, before New York did you have high school bands?
W: I played in a band in high school with my best friend. Our shining moment was at rock assembly.

Rock assembly?!
W: Well, we had assembly once a week where high brow speakers would come. Once a year they’d do this rock assembly where they’d let student bands play for the other students. My friend Justin, it was his last year. I was in third year, he was in fourth. He was in love with this girl, our friend Hilary, and they dated for eight years after that. We played ‘Just Like Heaven’ by the Cure in rock assembly and it was amazing. That was the highlight of high school for me.

I’ve heard you talk about the Cure before, but I never noticed it in Arcade Fire until I heard the recorded version of “Power Out.”
W: I haven’t listened to them in a long time, but for a brief period in high school they were the band that got me into totally different kinds of music, it changed the kind of music I liked.

You both grew up in suburbs, yes?
Both: Yes.

Neighbourhood is a running theme of the record. How do you think your music relates to growing up in that experience, or does it at all? Is there something about the grand gesture of Arcade Fire songs that fits in there, in the same way Bruce Springsteen sang about getting out and dreaming of something bigger?
[uncomfortably long silence]

Maybe that’s a ridiculous question.
W: I think everyone tries to find some meaning in the situation they’re raised in. The music we make could only exist in a privilged kind of environment, but that doesn’t mean that the emotional experience or what you’re trying to find out about life isn’t profound or important. It’s kind of crazy that people in different social situations can have such a similar experience, but everyone’s just trying to understand their own experience.

Why do you think it exists from a privileged position?
W: Well, we own instruments, we have an apartment where we can play music in. It’s referential in a way that is an educated referentia. You know what I mean? It isn’t just folk music. There is a sense that it is part of a lifestyle, but it’s more complicated than that. I don’t know.
R: That made me think of something else. The audience for me, when I was playing with my medieval band, we had the weirdest gigs ever. Once we played in a mall, or people would hire us to play in front of a store, or in an old folks home. When we played, it was often just acoustic. We would show up and just play. I discovered a lot of things that don’t happen anymore, where you have bands that are so far away with a bunch of lights and it’s so loud. Sometimes we’d play in a restaurant no bigger than this. I would get so much out of that. We would play at parties and they would treat us like family. It was a really rich experience for me. That’s why every time, I really want to see the audience and who’s there. A lot of bands, sometimes you see people [on stage] and they look away: ‘where are you? You’re not in your living room! There are 400 people here to listen to you!’

Watching this band, which I have many times, I always enjoy watching people who’ve never seen you before. The first time I saw you was in Toronto, which I think was your first time there, with Jim Guthrie. Then the Nathan Lawr show at the Rivoli [their second Toronto show], or even last week at Chapel Hill: I always enjoy looking back at the audience, and it’s immediately moving them, they’re reacting very strongly right away. Mouth open, eyes wide open. Maybe it’s because the opening number is written for that purpose, as you were saying. What do you hear from people directly, what do they tell you after shows?
W: We’re in this mode right now, especially when we did the tour with the Unicorns, where people haven’t really heard of us before, especially in the States. That’s the performance mode we’re in. The last time we played in Toronto and Montreal, it was harder. We haven’t figured out how to play when people are familiar with your stuff and have expectations. I know this is a really limited time, but it’s a really great energy. I know it’s not going to be like that forever.

What did you learn from touring with the Unicorns last month?
W: We learned that we want to tour. And it’s hard to eat well.
R: Learn how to stay human after sitting in a car for seven hours, getting up, moving some amps, then ‘rrrrrawwwwr,’ then go to sleep.

What has it been like watching that band get so big?
W: Being in the States with them was cool. I think they divide audience a lot of times. I think it’s great, seeing what they’ve built for themselves down there just on the power of their personalities and their music. They’ve put a lot of thought into it.

You knew them when they were playing to nobody here.
W: They’ve come a long way. They’re a great band and play really well together. I think they’ll be around for a long time. They’re writing really great songs now too. They’re like a real band.

Like a real band?!
W: No, they’re a real band. Not all bands are real bands. A lot of bands are the idea of a band.

Going back a bit again, can you tell me about recording the EP in Maine? Was that a living/working arrangment and how long were you there?
W: Two months. We were, anyway, everyone else was there for a month.

That was a combination of Montreal people and high school friends?
W: Mostly Montreal people. There were some people on the island you played some of the orchestral instruments. But it was mostly Brendan [Reed, also Win’s roommate at the time], Dane [Mills] and Myles [Broscoe]. And Richard.

How many people were living there?
R: Me, you, Will, Brendan, Dane, Myles, Richard, Gregg [Davenport]. That’s it.

Was it an idyllic thing or was it intense being in closed quarters?
W: It was a little segregated. Even before we went, stuff was a bit stressed. I don’t know, man. Being in a band is hard. I don’t know how to do it yet. It’s hard to keep it together.
R: It’s hard to get everyone on the same page about what we’re doing and why we do it. Everyone has to have the same motivation.
W: You have to be united, but at the same time everyone has to be coming from a different place creatively or it will be really stale. It’s impossible to balance. You just have to balance it for as long as you can. Almost no bands stay together unless, like, huge sums of money come into play. It is possible. It does happen. But I’d say that the overwhelming number of bands break up unless some giant sum of money brings the Pixies back together to tour! (both laugh)

The ones that do stay together that long are like family and understand each other intrinsically. And family is a big influence on the lyrics. Is everyone’s family very supportive?
W: My family is very supportive.
R: My family is strange.

When did all the funerals begin, that play into the lyrical theme of the record?
R: There was Nancy my grandma, my mom—but that was before. Alvino, your grandpa.
W: Alvino was huge on a musical level. For me, he was very inspirational.

Did you know him well? How often would you see him?
W: I got to know him really well over the last five years or so. I spent a lot of time with him. He was so sharp, so there mentally. I’d ask him a lot of questions.
R: He was 95. I would speak to him on the phone, and there was no difference between him and any 20 year old. He was cooler than anyone I knew.
W: At the wedding he stood up and gave his speech and had everyone in stitches. He got the biggest reception. Great comedic timing.

Did he hear the Arcade Fire?
W: I don’t think he would have liked it. He doesn’t like jazz combos! (laughs)

And the Arcade Fire are a jazz combo?
W: No, but he played in the big band era, so I think he thought the combo thing was a bit of a rip off. So the rock’n’roll thing was even a bigger ripoff of jazz combos, and where the hell we are now is some post-modern monstrosity of the copy of the copy. I think he could have appreciated aspects of it. We played ‘In the Backseat’ for my extended family at the funeral one night, and they all really liked it. It was just piano, guitar, Will was there and my mom played harp. There are certain songs that we can play for our families that aren’t too weird.

Is that a hard song to play? Do you have to remove yourself from the lyrics?
R: It’s always a very intense song. That’s why I’m saying that we do looks theatrical, but it’s certainly not a Broadway show.

When you write lyrics, do you think in French or English first? There are some French lyrics on the record.
R: I’m sort of overwhelmed by English these days, because I speak it all day all the time. I’m kind of going crazy. I’m sure I’ll go into a rebellion stage soon and speak only French.
W: English works really well with rock music because of the rhythm of it, the accent is always on the first syllable. ‘Hey! You! Get offa my cloud!’
R: With French it’s always on the second.
(they both do exaggerated imitations of French singing)
W: That works better with cabaret than rock music.
R: I find it more difficult to include French in rock music. I’m trying to find a way that I’ll be okay with, that I personally will think sounds good.

The songs on the album that have French aren’t really rock songs.
R: No.
W: We’re conscious of the rhythmic aspects of it when we put it together. You can do it, and sometimes a song works that needs an accent on the second syllable.
R: Sometimes we’ll try it in both languages and it works better in French.
W: What French is amazing for is if the structure is a bit more free, like Jacques Brel style. Then it’s almost like the vocals are a drum, at least to me.
R: Know what? I listened to Jacques Brel recently, and realised how much it’s been ingrained in me and yet I’d completely forgot about it because it was all on records at my parents. All that orchestration. It was everything I liked, beautiful arrangements.

I love the sounds of the strings on this record. Even though I’m sure it’s only two or three strings multi-tracked, it sounds huge.
W: It’s two tracks of four strings.
R: Oh! (gasps) That day was one of the best days of my life, having all these strings in my house, in my living room. Because I played drums on that track, I knew when and how it was going to speed up, so I was conducting them all. I was in wonderland! I couldn’t have been happier. It was like my birthday times 1100. So fun, like a big party.

Finally, how did it feel last week in North Carolina [at Mergefest]?
W: There was one point after we played [on opening night, at Local 506] when they were doing Merge karaoke. [Win and Regine did Magnetic Fields’ “I Was Born on a Train”; Richard did a Lambchop song with Merge’s Christina Rentz.] A bunch of people who work there were singing a Neutral Milk Hotel song. I was so happy to be a part of what they’re doing. Can you imagine going to a Columbia records party, and having the entire staff drunk and giving it and singing the stuff in their catalogue? They were so into it.
R: You know they love their music so much.

I know that Merge was a goal for you for a while, or at least one of the labels that you really wanted to work with. I remember you giving the EP to the Essex Green when they were in town. Why did you want to work with them so much?
R: When I met the Merge people, they were really down to earth and looked at you in the eye. They were really, really nice.
W: I just don’t really like indie rock very much. The one time I was actually forced to listen to college radio for a long time, I was working in a store, and the Magnetic Fields and Neutral Milk Hotel were two of the only things I actually thought were real and had a lot of weight to them as records. A lot of times, people who record themselves and do the indie rock thing doesn’t really reach me, but that stuff really did. Both [Magnetic Fields’] 69 Love Songs and the Neutral Milk Hotel stuff was all done themselves, and it sounds as good as anything.
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