EASE DOWN THE ROAD

I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve driven three-plus hours to a show, waited in the rain for two hours outside the club, packed myself as close to the stage as possible and stood waiting for another two or so hours until the band finished their fruit tray. Most of my show-related conversations from age 19-24 were no more sophisticated than the following: “Oh, the show starts at 9 p.m., we’d better get there at 6 p.m., stand as close to the door as possible and get front row.” By the time I turned 25 I realized three things: 1. It’s not a coincidence that almost every show I’ve been to has started anywhere from one-to-four hours late; 2. Opening bands are often horrible, so as not to show up the headliner; 3. The people able to stand up front for eight hours are usually too drunk to feel the back and leg and foot pain. So many concerts have left me uninspired to the point that I chow down on White Castle on the drive home, if only to make it feel as though I accomplished something. I assure you, eating White Castle is never an accomplishment.

What I’m really saying is this: you can’t win ‘em all, friends, not even if you have thick-framed emo glasses and a different pair of Chuck Taylor sneakers for every day of the week. If we’re being frank (and what the hell, let’s be for one week), most shows, albums and artists don’t live up to the hype. Most shows you go to after the age of 23 – if you’re honest with yourself, that is – aren’t ever quite what you hope they’ll be. You’re usually going to spend a wad of bread on gas and parking (not to mention food and beer) and stand around a whole lot, waiting, looking at people’s instantly dated hair, shoes and shirts. Want a cool T-shirt of your own? Better bring the big bucks, as most bands are charging over $20 these days, with bands like U2 and The Police often charging around $40 (about double what you could buy either band’s discography for on half.com). Most of these big stage rockers – god love ‘em – will really let you down.

Speaking of rock n’ roll letdowns, Ease Down the Road recently landed two separate interviews with artists who released worthwhile albums this year. First is the Besnard Lakes, an indie rock band from Canada that I have supported – editorially and audiophilically (my word) speaking – all year long. Second is underground emcee Tim “Sole” Holland, an artist I idolized when I was 18 and continue to support to this day. Both artists are currently very busy, and thus, we agreed to do e-mail interviews, which are never ideal. Let’s start with the Besnard Lakes, who are currently on tour with Peter Bjorn And John (that’s right, no commas, capital A) …

Not knowing an incredible amount about the band responsible for one of the year’s best albums, The Besnard Lakes are the Dark Horse, I decided to go with a pretty generic approach: more or less “who the heck are you guys,” but not quite so plainly. My first question inquired about the Besnard’s just reissued debut album, Vol. 1. I asked for a little insight about the album (no one has really heard it yet) and in return received the following response from Besnard co-founder Olga Goreas: “I think you’ll like it. It was written and recorded entirely in a room about as big as a breadbox, and we just decided to call it Vol. 1 because the original title, Vol. 1: The Shrinking of its Inhabitants Has Resulted In a Psychic Interlude Between the Physical Objects and their Intermingling Thereforth with Negative Space Reality, couldn’t fit on the album. Well, the title would fit now in this time/space continuum, but at that particular juncture it didn’t. You know what I’m saying?” No, Olga, I have no idea what you’re saying. I’m 27 years old and long forgot the Youthful Code of Randomness Posed as Pseudo-Intellectual Irony. I’m not one to judge (okay, yes I am), but when someone asks you for an interview (an enthusiastic fan, no less) and you don’t feel like doing it … just say “no,” or better yet, ignore them. Her responses to my overly friendly and loose questions continued this way, and, frankly, I’m too stubborn to even consider giving them a second thought, let alone typing them out. (Note to people in bands: break your fan’s hearts in your songs and at your shows, not at their places of work.) That said, by all means, pick up Dark Horse if you haven’t yet. In common man’s terms, it’s an incredibly unlikely hybrid of The Beach Boys and Pink Floyd. Just buy it before the year ends; you won’t regret it.

As far as Tim “Sole” Holland goes, it’s no understatement to say that I worshiped the guy and his work in my very early 20s. He was the kind of rare idealist who could make you laugh while still almost inspiring you, a Bill Hicks of his time, really. When I heard that he had a fourth official studio album coming out, Sole and the Skyrider Band, I flipped. I rarely listen to hip-hop these days, but “I’ll always listen to Sole,” or at least that’s what I told myself. On the day his album was released I walked into Wooden Nickel and bought the disc from that nice fella who plays guitar for I, Wombat, a band known for being very respectful towards their fans. I listened to the disc, promptly reviewed it for whatzup and proceeded to request an interview with the man himself. I’d requested interviews with the guy before with no luck, and didn’t expect much this time. When Holland himself responded to my inquiry I was stoked, and thus came up with a batch of questions I’ll put up against any I’ve ever seen him face (and trust me, I’ve read dozens of Sole interviews). One question, for example, asked Holland about his influences and outside listening (sounds generic, but it wasn’t), citing a few artists he’s mentioned through the years. “I don’t know any of those things,” he said. “I’m not listening to music.” Again, if you don’t want to do the interview, feel free to utilize that special phrase to which all Americans are entitled: “No thanks.”

On Holland’s MySpace page there’s a video of him hanging out with Destructo, one of the long-forgotten founders of Sole’s record label, Anticon. Remembering that I used to talk with Destructo years ago, I asked Holland if that was indeed Destructo in the video, and, if so, how he is doing: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I asked about a long-discussed Anticon book: “I don’t know what’s gonna be written.” I asked if he had any plans to play in Indiana any time soon: “I don’t know if we’ll come to Indiana. I hate playing Indiana.” Had enough? I realize that publishing this sort of stuff makes me look like a chump, but trust me, I’ve learned to say “no” to e-mail interviews from here on out. In the defense of the Ease, I wrote thoughtful questions for both artists and offered phone interviews. I even considered doing both artists the favor of acting like they never tried to respond to my questions. Nope, cleaning up their punctuation is as much as I’m offering.

The point of this week’s column? Fans, don’t be afraid to tell your bands where to go when they’re asking for it. Regardless of what you may have heard, standing on a stage or getting featured in a magazine does not give anyone superhuman powers. If you buy the albums, it is the opinion of Ease that you have every right to turn off your fake smile and say something like “boo,” or “you’re lazy” when needed. Well, maybe don’t say the word “boo,” but go home and listen to something better. That’ll show ‘em. Special thanks to the countless artists I’ve interviewed over the years who have treated me with respect – you more than make up for the Soles and Olgas of the world.