Sitting down at the Hyatt Hotel in downtown Toronto during the North by Northeast Festival, the band members – Williams singer/guitarist Lucy Campbell, bassist Tasman Strachan, and drummer Claire O’Boyle – discuss their (real) origins, what it’s like to play North America for the first time, a weariness of getting too political, and what the hell “guerilla-squonk-punk-garage” music is.

Their first EP, Panic, is out now and it’s getting very positive reviews. Just don’t call it “indie”.

Michael Raine: When did you guys form The Aves and how did it come about?

Lucy: We formed a few years ago and I was just looking for a band and I played, kind of, shitty guitar. I was just looking for people and we didn’t know each other before hand and we actually had a different drummer at the time. I turned out that Tasman and I knew each other from childhood and we ended up getting together. To be honest, I was pretty desperate these guys were the only people that answered the ad.  Like, I hated them quite a lot and I was like, “oh, you know, god I hate these guys but I’m going to have to deal with it.” No, I’m joking [leans to into the recorder and repeats, “joking!”].

Tasman: Actually, it was kind of like that. There wasn’t much waiting at all, was there?

Lucy: No waiting, it was just like, “I don’t care. I’m just happy.” My peak of happiness will have been reached if we can be in a band. That’s all I care about. So yeah, then we decided to go to London for a couple of months and when we came back the drummer left and we got Clair and we’ve been really happy. That was about a year and a half ago or so and now we’re here.

M: Because of the way you came together, was there any conflict musically?

Thomas: I think we all like different music and play different music and I think that’s what we sound like. I don’t think we sound cohesive at all, but apparently we do, we get told we do so that’s alright. I don’t think we even sound like anything that we would listen to.

L: Yeah, we do sound different and we don’t have any one band that we sound like. We all like very much different things, totally different things, and sometimes contradictory things and I think it works out well because we come out sounding like nothing [in particular] and we don’t try and force each other’s influences on one another, although we have influenced each other.

MR: Is there a common song writing process?

TS: Lucy does most of the riffs and lyrics and melodies and she brings it in and we jam it.

L: It’s always very spaced out and sketchy when it first comes. Thomas and I do a lot of stuff together now. I write the lyrics, although Thomas has written some of the lyrics, and then Thomas comes up with a lot of the chords or the general gist of it. It started off more with just me with the songs that I already had and now it’s become more of a collaborative thing.

MR: Is there a large music scene in South Australia?

L: Yeah, there is a bit of a scene there. It’s a really small scene because Adelaide is a small place and there are a lot of bands. They tend to be click-y and in the same circles so we tend to play with friends of ours. The scene tends to be pretty insular and it tends to be hard to get out of that small town mentality of just play in our own town and being a little bit shit but your friends come and see you every Saturday night. It’s really hard to get out of that and it’s something we’ve being trying to do from the beginning.

MR: In that case, do you think you’ll move the band to a more cosmopolitan place like Melbourne or Sydney or even leave Australia?

L: Probably not. Adelaide is a really great place to base yourself. The good and bad things about being in a small town are sort of the same things in a way. It’s good to be insular and stuff like that in some ways because Melbourne is a big place and there’s a lot of bands and it’s really competitive. We’ve played there a couple times and people are real nice over there but it is much more competitive.

MR: Are you guys still working jobs or in school and while pursuing music?

TS: I’m working odd jobs. I haven’t studied in a while.

CO: I’m doing social work in university and plan to be a social worker, hopefully, if I’m not famous. If I’m famous than I don’t really think I need to.

L: Yeah, no social work for you. No longer care about the people. I do a little bit of studying but I’m more into not much [laughs].

TH: I’ve done a bit of university and done a few jobs and nothing’s really stuck.

L: We’re all a bit wondering, a bit vacant, really. I think it’s quite easy to do in Adelaide, actually. It’s an easy lifestyle there. Very cheap rent, very cheap to be and exist.

MR: You mentioned that you were in Europe and I noticed you kept a travel log while you were there. Why did you go? Did you go to “break” Europe or for the sake of a trip?

L: When I think back on it, I have no idea why we went there.

TH: If we had broken Europe then we would’ve told people that’s why we went [laughs].

L: In all honesty, it was mostly a holiday and I think I always really liked London and stuff like that and we just went over there because it was cheaper if all four of went than if only me went, I guess [laughs]. I can’t remember. We played a few gigs in London and met a cool London band and stuff like that.

MR: Lucy, I noticed in one of the entries you took issue with the British government trying to shut down the protest that were going on at the time. Also, you list your influences as band like The Kinks and Velvet Underground; bands that could be quite observational or political. Is that something you could see becoming part of your songwriting?

L: I don’t know. Political is such a fine line, it’s such a hard thing. I think we’re all political in our own way and political in different ways. We have quite a few discussions about stuff. Claire and I had a discussion about feminism the other day; it was pretty cool [laughs]. I think outward politicism is being preachy and puts people off and is not very interesting. But some of the lyrics, like we have a song called “Tony Macaroni” which is, lyrically, a bit of a silly song about a politician, an opposition leader in Australia called Tony Abbott, for those of you at home.

So yeah, we do have a few political songs but I don’t like the overt, sort of Bob Geldolf-politicism, or Bono or whatever. It’s kind of too far.

MR: Why did you decide to make your first trip as a band to North America at this time?

L: North by Northeast. We were so happy that anybody would want us to play anywhere else that we immediately jumped on a plane. Not really, we didn’t have the money to do that quit yet. North by Northeast was kind of the catalyst and we ended up playing some more shows and stuff like that. Playing some shows in New York and stuff but it’s all been kind of a do-it-yourself kind of thing for us.

MR: I’d heard you’re going to do some recording while you’re in New York?

L: Yeah, we’re booked to do a single in New York so we have something to go home with. Then when we go home we’ll probably be looking at doing another EP because we only have the one EP [“Panic”] that’s our one and only recording really. It’ll be exciting. I think we have the songs that we want to do; I think we’ve decided on that. I can’t remember anymore.

MR: Are there plans for a full LP?

L: If there was some money there as well, yeah.

TH: We’ve probably got enough songs to do that, really, but it’s an investment that we can’t really afford quite yet.

L: It’s kind of like weighing, you know, what do you spend your money on? We’re at the point where we don’t have a lot of money to do much so it’s, what do you spend your money on? Do you spend your money to do an album, or do an EP and then be able to do the publicity for an EP with that extra cash. It kind of comes down to stuff like that.

TS: I don’t know if we’re ready for an album yet, either. We’ve got a bunch of songs written over a three year period but it doesn’t, to me, feel like one big collective album. EPs are pretty appropriate at the moment.

L: EPs are great. They’re a great little tool. An album, I think, needs to be very cohesive.

Claire and I were talking about writing some songs for a cohesive EP rather than just recording the songs that we have, our best songs, that are always a little bit different or not about the same things or whatever. [We’re talking] about having a more conceptual ideas.

MR: I read that you’ve shunned the term “indie” in favour of “guerilla-squonk-punk-garage”. What’s that about?

L: [laughs] Yeah, that was Thomas.

TH: I read that word [“squonk”], I read it somewhere and I thought, “Oh, I don’t know what that is so I would say that’s what we are.” I think that’s genuinely what happened. We don’t like indie, I personally don’t like indie music and I don’t think any of us particularly do. Since we find it pretty hard, given all of our different interests, to describe what we sound like it just seemed appropriate to just give a throw-away line instead.

L: Yeah, I think indie’s a bit of a catchall. Right now I have no idea what it defines. Like, indie hip-hop, indie… there’s all these different things that it’s kind of like, “Who knows?” I don’t know whether it’s based on the music or the fashion or whatever. I’ve got no idea. “Indie” is a shitty term, basically.

TS: I feel like it’s embraced a bit more over here. In Australia it’s a bit more “stay away”. Whereas over here people throw it around more casually and are pretty happy to use it. In Australia it implies that you’re a bit of a follower or something.

L: A hipster

MR: You’re right that is has become a catchall term for any band with guitar, bass, and drums.

L: Yeah, pretty much. It does end up becoming a little bit like that and the “hipster” label is kind of a weird one and I don’t really understand it.

MR: Have you noticed a difference in the audiences between the shows here and your shows in Australia?

L: Here they’re kind of younger, generally. In Australia we get a lot of old men that come to shows. [laughs]. Which is nice and they’re big fans and they come to a lot of shows and they buy the t-shirts and stuff like that, which is kind of really weird. It’s interesting that’s it’s an older bunch in Australia and here it tends to be people of a kind of generic age group. You know, 18 through to 35 or whatever. So far we haven’t got so many of the 50-year-olds here at North by Northeast but we’re waiting.

TH: I think people have been more receptive here as well. It’s been more fun interacting with the audience here. That might just be that there a lot of people who come to see us that haven’t seen us before. But yeah, I’ve enjoyed playing here.

L: They’re also more willing to come up to you afterwards and have a chat. Not just a “well done” or whatever, but they’ll sit down and have a chat. Even people on the street will just talk to you for no reason. Everyone seems much more outgoing, confident, and confident in themselves. Whereas in Australia it’s more of a British vibe, people are embarrassed about everything.

MR: Lastly, is there a long-term plan for the band?

L: I think the game plan is a little bit sketchy but it tends to be along the lines of making good music, music that we enjoy and hopefully music and that someone else enjoys and keep evolving as you go. Don’t just stay the same and just do what other people want you to do. And travel, traveling is always a good time.

We were just talking to someone the other day about doing South by Southwest and doing various festivals and stuff. So yeah, the U.S. would be an interesting place for us to explore more properly.

The post A sitdown with The Aves during their NXNE North American stop appeared first on Quip Magazine.

With three guitars, a keyboard, bass, and two drummers, there was no lack of noise emanating from the sound system.  Leaning heavily on their most recent album, Milk Famous, – which was released in March to near-universal critical praise – the band segued from one song to the other with almost no breaks, proving that a hectic tour schedule can make for a very tight group of musicians. Patterson’s soaring falsetto was in fine form, easily overcoming the huge racket from his bandmates that might likely drown out a weaker singer.

While newer tracks like “Heavy Metal” (which is neither particularly heavy, nor metal-y) showed that the band is more than capable of doing the synth-driven indie thing as well as any band, it was the more stripped back, percussive, older songs – like 2009’s aptly titled “Percussion Gun” – that really had the greatest impact. That may because second drummer Matthew Clark, banging away wildly on a partial drum set of two tom-toms, snare, and cymbal, is easily the most mesmerizing member of the band, at least on this night.   But therein laid White Rabbits’ problem on Thursday – when a guy with half a drum kit at the back right of the stage is the most entertaining part of the show, there has to be something missing. This is especially true for a band like White Rabbits, who are known for their high energy performances

Maybe it was the fact that The Mod Club was only half full, or the 9 p.m. start time, or maybe it was the abbreviated set list. Not to bring the band down, it was a fine performance. The sound was tight, singer sounded great, and everything went off without a hitch. But truly great shows have a sense of urgency and this wasn’t one of those shows. For a band that is known to be exceptional live, on this night they were merely good.

Luckily, the night’s second show, The Black Belles, playing a midnight set in the dungeon-like confines of The Garrison, did meet expectations.

A capacity crowd rapturously received the three black-clad girls like they were Jack White himself, rather than one of his his label signings. Undoubtedly, a lot of the curiosity and hype that currently surrounds The Black Belles stems from their connection to the former White Stripe (who signed them to his label, Third Man Records, and produced their self-titled debut album).

Oddly, normally a four-piece, The Black Belles were down one member as keyboardist Tina NoGood was conspicuously nonexistent (no mention of her or explanation of her absence was given). Regardless, the band’s roughly 40 minute set proved that these girls are far more than Jack White-coattail-surfers. Yes, White’s influence is apparent in both their colour-coordinated look and blistering goth-garage riffs, which is hardly a bad thing, since the Black Belles pull it off exceptionally well. Drummer Shelby Lynn appears to have a compulsive need to bang the shit out of the drums while singer-guitarist Olivia Jean plays and sings song like “Leave You with a Letter” with an aggression and attitude that wouldn’t be out of place on a Cramps album.

There are points where the Jack White comparisons become a little too obvious. Particularly “Honky Tonk Horror”, which Jean described as “our attempt to write a country” but it comes across more as a re-write of The White Stripes’ “Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine”.

From a critical viewpoint, the inescapable Jack White comparisons should detract from The Black Belles’ appeal. But when a 40-minute set feels like 15 minutes, what should seem like a good band then feels like an exceptional one. Kind of the opposite of White Rabbits.

The post White Rabbits & The Black Belles live at the NXNE appeared first on Quip Magazine.

Relaxed and charming, Robitaille took some time off during North by Northeast (NXNE) to sit down at the Hyatt Hotel in Toronto and discuss his career, art, and influences, past and present.

A couple days earlier Robitaille played the Go Folk Yourself evening in the cave-like backroom at the Cameron House bar in Toronto. Showcasing such well-crafted songs as Modern Love Song pt. 1, Winters Like These and Everything’s Broken Here, it was easy to see how his vivid lyricism, sparse acoustic instrumentation, and almost-spoken singing style has earned him constant comparisons to Montreal’s patron saint of songwriting, Leonard Cohen (although, truthfully, he sounds more like Bright Eyes’ Conor Oberst circa I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning, which isn’t a bad thing).

* * *

Michael: It seems your focus is on lyrics above anything else. Where do you find inspiration for songs and was there a running theme on the new record?

J.F. Robitaille: Definitely not a running theme on this record, although I think it seems like it because it was all written in a two-year period.

The inspiration, mostly, you know, I read books and films and all the usual creative inspiration. I try to make sure that my life is full of stuff like that.

M: So what books have you been reading lately?

JFR: Good question. I’ve been reading some Civil War histories. Kind of light reading, not heavy stuff. I don’t think this year I’ve been reading any heavy literature, more historical stuff.

M: Some people would consider that heavy.

JFR: Well, you know, heavy in that doesn’t make you think about life. Also, I’ve been watching some German films and stuff like that. I shouldn’t talk about this. [Laughs] You have to twist it so that I don’t sound like such an ass.

M: You were in two bands before you went solo. Rev 32 and…

JFR: How did you know that?

M: I did my research

JFR: Rev 32, wow.

M: And after Rev 32 you formed Social Register. How did your experience in those bands influence you as a solo artist and why did you decide to go solo?

JFR: I think with the Social Register it was basically me and a bunch of friends and most of the friends are still there and they’re on the record. It was just limiting being in a band and how you’re perceived. You don’t own it, really. I felt the understanding was that it was my thing and I did everything, but then it’s the “Social Register.” I didn’t feel personally invested in this fictitious name. So you put all that work into something, like you’re putting it into something that exists. So I thought I’d go do a solo thing so at least it’s my name and myself and at least it’s being honest.

And then some people think it’s a strange decision to go with my actual name, which isn’t the catchiest in the world. That’s another side of it; I’d rather invest in the reality of myself.

M: Speaking of, what does the J.F. in J.F. Robitaille stand for?

JFR: Jean-Francois.

M: Do you write songs differently for yourself than you did for a band?

JFR: Yeah, the next thing was, if you want to go solo, think of myself onstage with a guitar. It has to have some kind of resonance. I want it to be kind of conversational. Like you said about the emphasis on the words, well that’s pretty much all I have to offer. You know, interesting guitar is probably only interesting for 20 minutes or something like that. So yeah, I wanted it to be kind of a personal experience so that led to thinking about the words more.

M: Is the record all you or is it more of a collaboration with the producer and backing band?  

JFR: Definitely a collaboration in terms of the arrangements. Most of the songs fit into a classical structure, like a waltz or a ballad. So you make it a little more interesting, on this record Murray [Lightburn] came in and did a lot of stuff and he’s in The Dears, so it’s like the polar opposite from what I do. I think it kind of comes out in the middle, if that makes sense. But to answer your question, yes, it’s a collaboration.

M: At one point you moved to London, England and then to New York and then back to Montreal. What inspired all the moves?

JFR: London, I was always obsessed with British culture as a teenager. I got out of high school and went to San Francisco for a little bit, following another obsession. Some of my friends were moving to London so we all went together for about a year and a half. So yeah, I loved British culture and also the music scene is great, as far as coffee shops and such. You can play all the time.

Then New York, my girlfriend at the time was moving to New York so we kind of moved. So that was like a love decision. But you know, it’s a great place for music.

M: You recorded an album in New York that never came out. What happened?

JFR: I signed a record deal with a label called Rythmbank. Nona Hendryx from Labelle started a record label through Warner Brothers and I recorded an album and then they went out of business and didn’t give me the record back. They own it now, so it was like a lost record. But an EP [The Blood in my Body] came out that I think had the best songs.  There were 13 songs on the record and five are on the EP.

I wanted to tour so I was like, “Before the record comes out, can we put out an EP?” and after that they went bankrupt. I lost the record but it’s not as dramatic as it sounds and some people would make it out to be more. It was fine, I write a lot so I didn’t mind.

M: How long did it take you to move on from that experience and start making the latest album?

JFR: A long time because there was a lot of questioning of whether there was something I could do to get that record out. You hear things but my instinct was to just forget it and move on but some people would be like, “That’s crazy.

You have this record and blah, blah, blah.” But I moved on and I started to think about this record, [Calendar], about two and a half years ago. It just took a really long time to set everything up, find a new label, et cetera.

M: Did you consciously set out to write a new record or just went into the studio when you happened to have enough songs?

JFR: I definitely consciously wanted to write a new record. I wanted to write a better record than the one that I had lost, so that was my initial motivation. So forget those songs and I will just write better songs. So that was like the rule for this record; everything has to be way better than the one before.

M: In just about everything that is written about you, you’re compared to Leonard Cohen. Do you find that comparison frustrating or daunting?

JFR: No, maybe initially it was a little daunting, if I took it too seriously or something. But really, it’s sort of an obvious thing for someone to say. I think it’s really cool because there are a lot of bands and songwriters out there who are rootsy and folky.

The Leonard Cohen thing, hopefully, the best I can take out of it is that he’s not rootsy and I don’t play rootsy music either. He’s kind of an outsider too. He doesn’t get lumped in with, like, James Taylor and Jackson Brown; strum-y singer-songwriters. He has more of a European influence in a way.

I could hope that I could somehow be aside like that, in a weird category as opposed to rootsy singer-songwriter.

M: Folk music, rootsy music, whatever you want to call it, it has its ebbs and flows but it’s always around. Why do you think it has such longevity?

JFR: I don’t think my record isn’t following any trends and I think a lot of rock bands, especially these days… I couldn’t imagine if I was trying to sustain a rock and roll band in the commercial [world] or trying to exist outside of it. I don’t know how good Grimes is going to sound in five years. That’s a weird example because she’s not a rock band but I don’t want to name anyone because all the names popping into my head are friends.

But yeah, [folk] is not trendy music, at least if you stick to a template. I think a record like Calendar could’ve come out in 1970 or 1980.

M: Do you ever get the urge to go back to a rockier sound?

JFR: Yeah, I don’t think rockier, but more instruments and go back to my Beatles obsession. I don’t know, we’re talking about it now and there is more stuff going on.

M: You mention the Beatles obsession. You opened for Sean Lennon once. Were you able to meet him?

JFR: Yeah, he wouldn’t talk before the show, which is really funny. So I was all ready to have that story about, “Oh, what a dick” but he was preserving his voice and then after the show he was amazing; a really, really nice guy. I thought it was really funny because you know he’s a multi-millionaire but he’s touring in an indie rock band, or he was. I think the whole band was on a bus and he was flying. Hilarious, say goodbye to your band and they get on this shitty bus and he probably takes a limo and private jets.

M: Did you ask him anything about his dad or did you play it cool?

JFR: I played it cool.

M: Do you remember a moment when you knew you wanted to dedicate your life to music?

JFR: Probably when I was 14 or 15, I had the dreams that everybody has. You want to be in a rock and roll band and be in a gang and then be The Beatles and be massive. That goes away around 17, 18, 19 and that’s when I really wanted to take it seriously and be an adult playing music, which sounds lame. I didn’t want to be in a rock and roll band.

That was kind of a moment, that’s where you find inspirations in people like Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, people who are artists for their whole lives.

All I can say is that I love singing and writing music and recording so much and nothing else comes even close, so I’d really be cheating myself if I didn’t do it.

M: Certain genres like folk and the blues tend to lend themselves to longer careers than stuff like dance and indie. Is that something you’re looking for, to keep performing as you get old?

JFR:  Yeah, like Jonathan Richman – people know him from There’s Something About Mary, he’s the guy in the tree – he’s had a really, really great career, or someone like Tom Waits or Loudon Wainwright or even Rufus [Wainwright].

These kind of people who exist in their own little world and they don’t need… like Tom Waits has a famous quote where he says something like, “If you can go to any city in the world and play to a 100 people, or have 100 people come see you, you’ll have a career for life.” So that’s the goal: a modest audience that you can write for.

The post Interview with Montreal singer-songwriter J.F. Robitaille appeared first on Quip Magazine.