Column 28: An Irish Rover Returns
Finding a lump of gold in a pot of cheese.

There was no column here last week because, well, I wasn’t in the country. Instead, I was in Ireland for a week’s worth of boiled potatoes and cold Guinness, crumbling castles and jagged cliffs, bad hotels and tacky gift shops, and of course, lots and lots of St. Patrick’s’ Day-style music.

Other than the Cliffs of Moher, it was the pubs and music that made spending 35 hours in cramped jets and crowded airports worthwhile. You go to the pubs in Ireland expecting to hear the same traditional music that we’ve all come to know from Lucky Charms commercials and reruns of “The Quiet Man.” I never deluded myself into thinking that I was going to find Ireland’s hidden underground indie-rock scene.

Instead, I was content to find comfortable pubs and drown my nights in pints of Kilkenny, Guinness and Smithwicks (pronounced “Smitticks” — you best not pronounce the “w” if you want a decent pour). If you get there at 8:30, the place will be nearly empty, with only a handful of locals staring up at the live horse races televised from Newton Abbot, Folkestone or Naas and bet on at Ladbrokes booking parlors located almost everywhere. But by 9:30 — the unofficial starting time for all bands — the pubs are crush-full with camera-toting tourists looking for a “slice of real Ireland,” and a smattering of locals whose bane in life is putting up with camera-toting tourists.

On the first four days, there weren’t any surprises. The music sounded pretty much like what you’d hear if you venture out to our versions of The Dubliner or The Brazen Head on a live music night. Irish bands are essentially cover bands playing songs handed down from generation to generation, with the most popular ones eventually making it over to the states where they’re played every St. Patrick’s day for the beer-soaked masses. The tourists not only want — they expect to hear “Wild Rover” with its 4-beat clap-along or “Rye Whiskey” (“I’m a rambler / I’m a gambler / I’m a long way from home…”) or, god help me, “Danny Boy,” which is blared through every gift shop and Blarney Wollen Mills outlet from County Wicklow to County Clare.

And so it was in Dublin and Kinsale, groggy nights filled with drunken group singing and annoying banter from brogue-inflicted band leaders who know just what to say to please the needy tourists, all of whom are proud, chest-thumping great-grandsons of Ireland whose own brogues were worn away generations ago, replaced with nasal Boston accents.

Then, six days into the trip, came Killarney. As the evening began, my companion and I, worn down from the past five days of reveling, decided to stick close to the hotel and stumbled into a hole-in-the-wall pub called Paddy Murphy’s. Sitting in a corner right behind the front door was the night’s entertainers — a twenty-something accordionist, a banjo player who looked like his father and a guitarist/vocalist that was probably an uncle. Unlike the elaborate set-ups from prior evenings, there was no sound system or lights, just the trio sitting behind a table with three jars of Guinness.

Instead of playing the usual crowd-beloved standards, the lads performed traditional instrumentals I’d never heard before. How do I know they were traditionals? By the look on the face of the old man — a local you could tell by his clothing — who sat across from them and grinned with every satisfying keystroke and banjo pluck. It wasn’t until the third song that Uncle Guitarist took voice, and what a sad, lonely voice he had. His moan was drawn in layers of sorrow, singing stories of famine deaths, lost wars and broken hearts. There were no happy sing-a-longs; no clapping, unicorns or laughter. Ireland’s true song is one long, tragic dirge, a testimony to suffering and survival even if it means leaving your home behind forever.

The next night, also in Killarney, we found the usual barn full of drunken, happy tourists pleading for their “Whiskey in a Jar.” We snuck out early and found Courtney’s, a room so dark with 18th Century lighting that you could barely see your pint in front of your face. This time it was a banjo, guitar and harp — no vocals — playing intricate instrumentals augmented by chiming, syncopated plucking. Called Sliba Luchra (I’m sure my spelling is wrong, thanks to Guinness), the young trio’s arrangements were slightly askew, purposely odd and strangely sad and yearning. It was like listening to a Celtic version of Tristeza or Tortoise. I hadn’t found Ireland’s indie rock. I had found something better.

Two days later I was back home, with “Danny Boy” and Guinness still ringing in my head, but thinking about Paddy’s and Courtney’s and the music I left behind.

So I’m back from Ireland. I’ll fill you in on the “music scene” tomorrow when I put this week’s column online and talk more about the trip. I can tell you right now that the worst part was traveling there and back. Avoid Aire Lingus at all costs. Fly American or British Airways, it’s worth the extra jack. Believe me. Coming back was the worst overall flight experience I’ve had in a long time (I have had worse, though).

Incidentally, I would have gone to the Neko Case show last night had I known it was a no-smoking show. As always is the case when you’re in a jetliner for 10 hours, I picked up a chest-cold thing and didn’t want to make it worse. There’s no smoking allowed at any bars and restaurants in Ireland. The ban doesn’t seem to have had an impact on their bar scene whatsoever. The flight did give me a chance to write a dozen or so CD reviews, which will be going online over the next few days, so watch the reviews page and the matrix for updates.

What happened while I was gone?

— The hiatus is over. Saddle Creek confirmed rumors of the much-anticipated second-coming of Cursive. The label says the band will start working on new music later this summer, with possibly a new record mid-late next year in terms of release date. Does that mean the inevitable hiatus (or end) for The Good Life? Well, maybe The Good Life as we’ve known it…

— I’m told Homer’s has had a change in management, with Rick Galusha announcing his departure and Mike Fratt taking his place as the company’s president. Who knows what it’ll mean. I’m trying to track Fratt down to see. The story of Homer’s and its continued survival in the now-viscous, cut-throat business of music retailing needs to be told along with Fratt’s plans for continued survival (and prosperity?).

— Before I left, Fratt e-mailed to tell me that Bright Eyes’ I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning sales have surpassed 250,000, passing Lifted… by many thousand. Saddle Creek confirmed this. I figured Wide Awake would lift Lifted‘s sales. It has, but not to the degree I expected. At this pace, Wide Awake is on target to be the first Creek CD to go gold… Digital Ash sales are at 176,000, by the way…

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Lazy-i will be on hiatus for the next few days as I head to over the water for some well-deserved R&R. In addition to sleeping, I’ll be spending the plane-ride over catching up on reviews, so you’ll have that to look forward to when I get back, as well as my take on Dublin’s edgy music scene.

So what am I going to miss while I’m gone? All the hot action is on Sunday night:
— Kasabian w/Madaction and Rock ‘n’ Roll Soldiers at Sokol Underground. This could wind up being a classic “I-was-there” type of show, depending on what happens to Kasabian in the next couple years. $10adv/$12 DOS.
— No Things w/Rocket FM and Haywood Yard at Duffy’s in Lincoln. No Things is the new project by former Mercy Rule drummer Ron Albertson and Opium Taylor’s Pat Nature. After getting booted from The Liars (a band they formed), the duo rebounded with this new ensemble. This is a must-see show. $5.
— Anonymous American w/Sarah Bench and the Robbers at Shag. Shag is the former Funnybone comedy club which, like all business in that area, is doomed to extinction after the dreaded overpass is completed. $5, 7 p.m.

What else?

— Next Thursday is Pinback at Sokol Underground with Pit er Pat. $12.
— Next Friday is Little Brazil w/Clair de Lune and Fromanhole, also at Sokol Underground. $7.
— And then there’s a handful of shows at O’Leaver’s by bands I don’t know, starting tonight with io, The Atlas and Life After Laserdisc; tomorrow with Red #9; next Thursday with Valient Thorr and Rent Money Big, and next Friday with VCR, Life After Laserdisc and Fizzle Like a Flood. O’Leaver’s shows are somewhat tentative in nature, so don’t blame me if you show up and the bands cancel or you’re stuck listening to bad local metal.

See you when I see you…

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

My profile of Kasabian went online this morning (read it here). I had about five minutes to talk to the band’s guitarist/keyboardist/songwriter Serge Pizzorno, and considering his answers to my questions, that’s all I really needed. It was like interviewing David St. Hubbins of Spinal Tap. Anyway, it’s my sincere belief that Kasabian actually could be the next big thing out of bonny ol’ England. Their single, “Club Foot,” is a mammoth hit over there, and they’re selling out arenas throughout Europe. It could be awhile, however, until that reach that status in the colonies… if ever.

Tonight is Mary Timony at Sokol Underground with Medications (the other touring band that includes her drummer/collaborator Devin Ocampo) and Omaha’s own Bombardment Society. Can Timony pull it off with just her and Ocampo performing as a two-piece? We’ll see. I asked he why she didn’t have a full band and pointed out that two-piece outfits are becoming more common these days (The White Stripes and Black Keys come to mind). She said she hadn’t thought about it, but yeah, I guess there are a lot of two-piece bands. Why is that? “I think it’s just economical. It makes going on tour easy. Actually, I don’t know why it is.” The show is $8 and starts at 9.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Column 27: Behind the (Omaha) Music
Why is VH1 sniffing around town?

Just when you thought that every media outlet already had passed though our fair city looking for the Next Big Thing, out of the blue comes an e-mail from Eli Lehrer of VH1 Development.

Seems Lehrer had been sicced on Omaha by one of the powers that be at the cable station to find out all he could about the Omaha music world. Lehrer wanted to know if I, too, would be willing to share my breadth of knowledge with him.

Turns out I wasn’t the first person that Lehrer had contacted. Far from it. He’d already talked to a number of local scenesters and musicians, and they all wanted to know the same thing: What does VH1 want with Omaha?

Sure, the Omaha indie music scene is now world-renowned thanks to Bright Eyes, The Faint, Cursive and the rest of the bunch at Saddle Creek Records, but isn’t indie just a tad bit off the mark for a station whose prime demographic appears to be 30- to 40-year-old housewives? On the other hand, I admit that I watch VH1 tons more than MTV and its embarrassing menu of sophomoric “real life” humiliation plays, bling-bling-powered look-at-my-shit “Cribs” shows, and 24/7 T&A spring-break extravaganzas, none of which have anything to do with music. VH1 is now the closest thing to “music television” on Omaha cable — from the classic “Behind the Music” series to last year’s “Bands Reunited,” which I proudly programmed into my TiVo Season Pass list.

After a few back-and-forths, Lehrer and I finally met over the phone, where we talked for a couple hours about the Omaha music scene beginning back in the ’90s through the glamorous present. It quickly dawned on me that Lehrer and his unnamed VH1 Sith Lord had something different in mind than the usual New York Times/Fader/Spin magazine pieces that only looked at Omaha through Saddle-Creek-colored blinders. In the past, whenever a national journalist called for expert perspective, they weren’t in the least bit interested in anything beyond Saddle Creek. Every time I listed a dozen or so other great local bands, the writer would clear his throat and say, “That’s nice, but what’s Conor really like?”

That didn’t happen with Lehrer. In fact, most of our time was spent talking about Omaha’s incubator-like environment for creating unique singer-songwriters who seem uninterested in “making it big.” Instead, they’re busy trying to line up a gig down at O’Leaver’s, or figuring out ways to get studio time or buy a van for their next tour.

Like the half-dozen or so that spoke to him before me, I pointed Lehrer in the direction of a half-dozen others who I thought could add their own perspective to the Omaha story. Though weeks into his research he said he still hadn’t spoken to anyone from Saddle Creek — yet another sign that this wasn’t going to be just another Conor lovefest.

But what exactly was it going to be? The Fabulous Life of Matt Whipkey? I Love The ’90s Omaha-style? An Episode of Storytellers featuring Simon Joyner? Lehrer didn’t know and couldn’t even say if anything would ever come of the interviews.

But one thing’s for certain — the project isn’t over yet. Lehrer said he’ll be visiting Omaha sometime in the next couple weeks to put faces to names. When I told him I was writing a column about his research, he became skittish and quickly called me, imploring that I not make a big deal about it, emphasizing that the odds are good that nothing will ever come of it.

But, of course, something already has. Whether or not a VH1 camera crew ever lands at Eppley, the fact that the channel is interested in Omaha music — and not just Saddle Creek — is a pretty good sign that people are beginning to wonder what undiscovered treasures lurk in Omaha that Saddle Creek hasn’t discovered.

Just placed on the site, an interview with ex-Helium frontwoman Mary Timony (read it here). Timony talks about Matador’s round-about way of ending its relationship with her, and how she picked herself up and moved on. She can count herself among those who were at that label during its mid-’90s golden years, back when you bought whatever the label put out regardless of whether you even heard of the band (a status that Saddle Creek is approaching). These days Matador is a shadow of its former self. Sure, they still have Yo La Tengo, Stephen Malkmus and Interpol, but after that it gets rather spotty. I haven’t sought out a Matador CD since Interpol’s debut back in 2002.

There weren’t too many out-takes from the interview that didn’t make the story. Timony did talk about growing up in D.C. and following the local hardcore/punk scene and how it influenced her music. “I went to a lot of punk shows, I hung out at The Wilson Center,” she said. “I was aware of the bands and was a fan of the bands. They were so powerful; it was definitely a big influence in playing music and getting started. Then I was in a band called Autoclave that put out a record on Dischord in ’91.” In fact, Timony said she first met Fugazi’s Brendan Canty (who produced her new CD, Ex Hex) when he recorded Autoclave.

I threw this story online early this week because Timony is playing Sokol Underground this Thursday, and because I’m putting the Kasabian piece up tomorrow. It’s turning out to be a busy week. Yesterday the Omaha World-Herald reported (in this story) that the label’s Slowdown project is now slated for a downtown location — from Webster to Cuming between 13th and 14th streets, just as rumored last fall. Unlike the original, doomed Metcalf Park Slowdown project, this one is more than just a music hall, offices and bar. The latest proposal includes a two-screen art-house movie theater, a pizza joint and condos, with a targeted completion date of June 2006. An hour after the story broke Saddle Creek’s Jason Kulbel e-mailed to say that despite the World-Herald report nothing about the project was definite. “Still many details to be worked out and the city has not accepted our proposal as of yet, but the cat is fully out of the bag,” he said.

And speaking of Saddle Creek, tonight is the victorious return of The Good Life to Sokol Underground in what has been said to be one of their last local gigs for a long, long time. Opening the show are tourmates Make Believe and Zykos. I foresee a sell-out.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Last night was sort of a second coming for Criteria. Things change once you get signed to Saddle Creek. People take notice. You’re no longer “just another Omaha band (that’s not on Saddle Creek).” You’ve joined a fraternity of sorts, and with it comes the spoils in the form of larger crowds. Though The Nein were the touring band, it was Criteria that was the headliner and who most of the 260-something paid to see. And the band did not disappoint them.

I took my position along the wall adjacent to stage right, but this time it was somewhat crowded over there and I found myself further behind the stage than usual, providing a view mostly of the band’s corduroys and their adoring crowd leaning forward and upward. By god, there were a lot of them singing right along to songs off En Garde. And the young girls, well… Indie music is the exception to the old crow that rock attracts only angry, disassociated teen-aged guys. There’s always a lot of girls at indie shows, especially Creek shows, maybe because there’s a sizable percentage among the radio rock guys who think indie/Creek is waaay to fey for them to listen to. That’s their loss.

So far back was I behind the stage that the vocals got lost in the roar — what do you expect when you’re on the backside of the speakers? After the first couple songs, the guy next to me laughed and said, “These guys obviously grew up listening to the Scorpions.” When Criteria frontman Stephen Pedersen said he was “really stoked” about everyone coming out, I turned and said, “It’s the ’80s all over again.” My sideman left halfway through the set — I guess it wasn’t his thing. But for the most part, he was the exception to the rule. Criteria fills a void in the Creek cadre of bands. Other than maybe Beep Beep, no other act on the label is trying to burn the house down with their guitars — a characteristic that Cursive also used to have, and maybe still do, if they ever return from their hiatus.

The sound was much better in front of the stage (obviously), and it was in the back of the room that I noticed the small contingency of people in their 50s (and maybe 60s) who I assume were representatives of the Kutak Rock law firm checking out the wares of their prodigal son, thinking to themselves how far away smoky Sokol Underground is from the lacquered oak and leather chairs of their boardrooms. Were they wondering if they’d made a mistake by taking the path less traveled by? We’ll never know.

Shifting gears… It was true what I heard about Bunnygrunt. I actually found out that afternoon when someone e-mailed me that they were indeed going to play at O’Leaver’s Friday night. So I made it out and it was pleasingly crowded. Low-fi poppers Grape Soda was up first, consisting I’m told of some folks who work down at The Antiquarium. It was more folk rock than indie rock and for some reason reminded me of Celtic music, though I’m sure there was no reason for it. I asked a guy next to me if it sounded Irish and he said, “Yeah…, sort of.” It was sloppy fun.

Next was Lonnie Methe’s group Mancini’s Angels. I’ve seen Methe a number of times as has anyone who has seen Simon Joyner over the years — he’s the guy in the sweater playing the violin with his back to the audience. He’s also a member of Omaha avant-guard ensemble Naturaliste, with Chris Fischer, Simon and Josephine Joyner and Chris Deden, among others. That group has a reputation for creating low-fi art/noise pieces, summed up on a full-length released by (Omaha’s most unknown label) Public Eyesore, which I haven’t heard. Mancini’s Angels was far from avant-garde, instead bordering (again) on folk rock, with Methe handling the lead vocals, and quite well, I might add. Underlying every song were layers of structured dissonance that would drive any pop-music lover up a wall. In that context, it was arty and probably lost on the crowd that came to hear Bunnygrunt’s three-chord “twee-punk.” Still, if you looked, you found some interesting stuff hidden among the feedback. Methe told me after the show that he’s headed to Austin to live in mid-June.

Up next was a band that I thought was Bunnygrunt — three girls and a guy drummer playing the style of indie-pop that Bunnygrunt plays. The flat, female vocals even reminded me of the band. Turns out it wasn’t Bunnygrunt at all, but a side project by one of its members. So as I was about to leave, on came Bunnygrunt, sounding much more confident and aggressive than the previous, unknown-named band. The trio included two guys and a girl drummer, and the vocals were mostly dominated by the men — something I don’t remember from the Bunnygrunt of the past. Despite the crowd yelling out song names, the band didn’t play any of their “hits” during their disappointingly short 15- or 20-minute micro-set. Maybe next time (if there is a next time).

Lots of stuff coming this week, and the sched looks this way — Mary Timony profile/interview online Tuesday; Kasabian profile/interview online Wednesday, and the column online Thursday — if I get all of it written…

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

According to a mass e-mail sent to me and other members of Omaha’s elite music media by sometimes Simon Joyner sideman Lonnie Methe, St. Louis cuddlecore legends Bunnygrunt is playing at O’Leaver’s tonight with Methe’s own Mancini’s Angels and Grape Soda. I’ve been unable to confirm this with anyone including a contact at O’Leaver’s, who says scheduling is in disarray there these days, what with all that volleyball going on. Bunnygrunt doesn’t have a website. According to AMC, the band broke up in 1998. I know them from having seen them play with Frontier Trust sometime in the ’90s, and from their single, “Macho Beagle,” w/”Cry,” a cover of The Raspberries classic. I hope this is happening, and I’ll be down at O’Leaver’s to find out.

Tomorrow night, of course, is Saddle Creek Records band Criteria with The Nein and The Philharmonic at Sokol Underground. Meanwhile, Fromanhole is hosting a CD release show at The 49’r with No Blood Orphan.

A couple headlines of interest:

— The Bright Eyes/Faint saga continues with more of the same. This review of their Toronto show again goes out of its way to point out that The Faint is crushing BE in the popularity contest, at least with the critics. “All in all, a good show, but in the end Bright Eyes couldn’t muster up enough energy or enthusiasm to claim best band of the night.” Ouch. Says that Oberst rolled out a new song during the set — wonder how they did the video for that one…

— Rilo Kiley now appears to be using their defection from Saddle Creek Records as a publicity peg on their tour. In this item in yesterday’s Boston Globe, frontwoman Jenny Lewis talks about “struggling” with the concept of indie vs. major “every day.” “People make such a big deal about indie vs. major. But if you’re making the same music, what’s the fuss about reaching more people?” She then goes on to say that the band wanted to do things that Creek wasn’t comfortable with… involving radio. Who knows what that means, although I would bet it has to do with Clear Channel.

— Meanwhile, in this Detroit Metro Times story, Neva Dinova’s Jake Bellows talks about a couple things concerning Jenny Lewis that I’m sure she’s not comfortable with. “When we heard that she was a child star, we found Foxfire with her and Angelina Jolie. In it there’s this topless scene where all the girls are hanging out together, burning each other and touching their tits, and Jenny is the only one of the five girls who doesn’t take her shirt off. I was like, ‘This is fucking bullshit. I rented this movie because I thought I was going to see your naked tits.’ I talked to her about it and the first thing I said was, ‘We were all disappointed.'” Classic.

— Finally, Tim Kasher talks about his budding screenwriting career in this Omaha World-Herald story. Kasher says he’s working a play that that he hopes to score with music from The Good Life, and then goes on to say he and members of Cursive plan to work on a new album.

–Got comments? Post ’em here.—

Column 26: Heavy Rotation
Has The River changed its course?

It may be time to turn the radio back on again.

I turned mine off years ago, when all I could find on the dial was freedom rock, goon rock, C&W warblers and gansta hate-hop. Why should I devote even a scintilla of my time to that noise when I have a CD player and an i-Pod in my car? The irony about Omaha radio has always been that we live in the nationally recognized indie rock capital of the world and can’t hear a single indie band on a local station.

But then the other day as NPR was bringing me down with yet another report about third-world child rape camps or the extinction of another life form, I twisted the dial to 89.7 The River. On came the latest by none other than Omaha’s very own Bright Eyes. Was I dreaming? Moments later, up popped the new one by Nine Inch Nails, which was followed by a track by …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, which was followed by something from the yet-to-be-released Criteria CD.

What the hell was going on? Could this be the same 89.7 The River that I’ve known and loathed for its tooth-drilling metal and agonizing Cookie Monster grunt rock?

I asked station program director Sophia John if I was dreaming. We talked at Sokol Auditorium the morning of the station’s sold-out Mudvayne show, where John was busy wrangling a crew of young grips setting the stage for the night’s performance.

Seems Ms. John indeed has slowly been working indie tracks into The River’s regular rotation for months. And people are just now beginning to notice. “We’re trying to mix elements of rock, pop, indie and even rap into the playlist,” she said.

No, The River hasn’t turned into a CMJ station. You’re still going to hear grunters by Slipknot, System of a Down, Kottonmouth Kings and, yeah, Mudvayne. That’s where John’s job becomes a real balancing act, because indie shoegazers will immediately turn the dial when Slipknot comes on, just like metal heads will rifle straight to The Z rather than suffer through Tegan and Sara. Going too far either way could mean ostracizing a portion of the station’s listeners.

John knows this all too well. She’s been inundated by amateur program directors telling her she should be playing everything from 24/7 metal to 24/7 CMJ. “If I did that, I wouldn’t be doing what’s best for everyone,” she said. “I want to bring the masses what they really want while opening their minds to something different.”

She admits that even she doesn’t like every song on the play list. “If you understand the basic breakdown of music, there’s a pop element to everything, even hardcore and metal,” she said. “If you hear something you don’t like, it’ll only take two or three songs before you hear something you do like. If you don’t like The White Stripes or System of a Down, just wait awhile.”

Working indie into the mix hasn’t been easy. Saddle Creek Records’ spate of new releases last year helped her logically work the local label into rotation. But getting Trail of Dead on the air took sheer chutzpah. “We wanted to see if we could open doors to people who don’t know the band yet, and change the attitude of those that listen to bands like Trail of Dead but never expected to hear them on the radio.”

It seems to be working. John said The River has gone from having a 3.8 share when she arrived over a year ago, to a 5 share in the latest book, which equates to roughly 170,000 listeners at any given moment (and being ranked No. 7 in the Omaha radio market).

Sure, I’d be happier if The River only played indie rock, but I’m smart enough to know that such a severe program shift would only kill the station. And then we’d be left with nothing but freedom rock, goon rock, C&W warblers and gansta hate-hop. I can withstand a little Slipknot as long as I can have my Garbage, too.

I just placed online, an interview with Criteria’s Stephen Pedersen (read it here). Pedersen talks about leaving nationally respected law firm Kutak Rock where he’s an attorney, to pursue his rock ‘n’ roll dream with the help from his friends at Saddle Creek Records. The word limit for The Reader article was 1,000. Here’s some out-takes from the 2-hour interview that didn’t make the cut:

There’s already those who think Criteria could rise to become the second most popular band at Saddle Creek. Pedersen pooh-poohs those comments. “Every band on that label has earned it from years of touring and focusing full-time on music for the greater part of the past decade. I kind of dilly-dallied.”

He said he had no idea what he and the former members of White Octave are going to do with their last album, Menergy, now that they’ve acquired the rights to the CD from Initial Records. “I would be surprised if there was a label that wanted to release it,” he said. Interestingly, White Octave also owns the masters to their first record, released on Deep Elm who only had a five-year licensing agreement on the recording, which has since expired.

Pedersen said Saddle Creek’s 50/50 royalties split is a rarity in the business. “It’s about as pure of a partnership as you’re going to get in the music business,” he said. “While the front-end isn’t that great, the back end is incredible. It’s the difference between an 11 to 15 percent royalty and a 50 percent royalty. If you’re successful, the payoff for record sales is fabulous, but that wasn’t the reason I wanted to be on Saddle Creek.

“These are my friends, the people that kept me going. I’ve known them half my life. And it’s also a great label with an amazing reputation that’s well deserved. I like their business model and can totally trust them.”

It was here that Pedersen referred to the famous Spoon/Ron Laffitte debacle that was immortalized in Spoon’s Saddle Creek-released single “The Agony of Laffitte” b/w “Laffitte Don’t Fail Me Now.”

“The only reason to go to a major is to raid their coffers,” Pedersen said. “If there was a $5 million non recuperable advance dangled in front of me, that may have made things difficult.”

So how does one get signed to Creek these days? Pedersen said there are two possible routes. “Either Robb, Jason and the people at the office love the record and want to put it out, or you appeal to the greater community of bands — you get Todd and Joel from the Faint and Conor and Tim and Matt behind you. The artists in effect are like an appellant court when the district court denies you. Luckily it never came to that.”

Pedersen discussed the process of writing his music. I’ve always thought that he must have consciously gone out of his way to create the stuttering, waltzy lope that’s indicative (to me, anyway) of their sound. “I don’t know why I do that,” Pedersen said. “The music wouldn’t be talked about if it was in 4/4. When I was writing En Garde, it was the first time I had the chance to make the beats, but I don’t know where I got the beats.”

Like En Garde, much of When We Break was recorded in Pedersen’s dingy basement studio. There is nothing fancy about the set up, you almost expect the guitarist to be leaning against a washer/dryer while recording a solo. Amidst all the sound equipment is a bicep/curl bar and some weights, I guess to get pumped up with before rolling tape. Though the guitars and vocals were recorded there, the drums and bass were tracked at Presto! Studios in Lincoln. AJ Mogis did the mix.

“The reason the record sounds the way it sounds is AJ,” Pedersen said. “He is the engineer and producer and the wizard behind its massiveness. It doesn’t sound like a record that was, in a large part, made in a basement and that’s entirely because of AJ. He just captures sound, and is also an incredible musician. The guy shreds. I’m, like, the worst guitar player in the band.”

When We Break wasn’t the first name chosen for the album. “We were thinking of calling it Danish Soul or Rock and Roll Miracle,” Pedersen said, clearly joking. “There were some more serious considerations, too, like From the Dead Center, and Touché — sort of a response to En Garde. But that would have been too cute. When We Break is a lyric from one of the songs. It’s referring both to when a band breaks and gets popular, and as humans when you get hurt.”

Which brings us to the album’s “meaning.”

“Lyrically, it’s not about a break-up, it’s about a lot of things,” Pedersen said. “At the end of the day, I’m singing for myself, and if other people get meaning out of it, that’s great, but I don’t try to define my words.”

Just as important, he said, are the songs’ sound and tone. “The delivery can convey as much or more meaning than the words, and I’m all about delivery,” he said. “I’m a defacto songwriter because I write a lot of songs, but I don’t see myself as a songwriter.”

He said he doesn’t write lyrics down, or anything else for that matter. Everything is composed in his head, from the beat to the guitar to the vocals.

“I don’t quite understand it,” he said. “It’s just a combination of having a Danish father and a Sicilian mother. You have a very strict, structured, disciplined side of you and a very passionate, emotional just sort of a very-lucky-to-be-alive side of you. And that’s where the music comes from.”

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