The Telephone Numbers’ Great New Album Evokes a San Francisco Brimming With Artful Nostalgia
Photo Credit: Arvel Hernandez
The Hemlock Tavern always smelled like stale beer. There was an ever-present cloud of smoke wafting from the venue’s tiny side room, where bar-goers would huddle to pull off American Spirits and Camel Lights. Cracked peanut shells littered the floor and loud punk music filled the air, ever-presently.
It was a dump, no doubt about it, but for San Franciscans with a deep love for the local music scene, it was our dump. And for Thomas Rubenstein, a city native who grew up sneaking into dive bars to catch glimpses of the local acts—who spent his youth idolizing the outfits from Bay Area labels like Slumberland Records—the Hemlock Tavern was not just a legendary music venue—it represented a romantic idyll.
Rubenstein, who heads the great San Francisco indie-pop quartet, The Telephone Numbers, transforms the Hemlock Tavern from a seedy dive into an Eden of doe-eyed wistfulness on the band’s great new record, “Scarecrow II,” released last month (on Slumberland Records, of course, bringing things full circle.) On “Hemlock,” a standout track from that album, Rubenstein waxes poetically about broken bottles, police sirens, and seedy alleys, earnestly declaring that “on Hemlock Street/We took a chance on love,” to the chamber pop backing of sinuous strings and trebly guitar lines.
“Hemlock was my introduction to the local music scene,” said Rubenstein, whose band will play at the Make-Out Room this Friday. “I remember using our fake IDs to sneak in there, and just being in love with the place. Tony Bedard gave my old record label, Melters a DJ night and being able to be involved with the space blew my mind. There is something about the Hemlock that will always feel really special. And I remember wanting to write a sweet love song, and having it be set in the Hemlock just made sense.”
While the song details the meeting of two kindred spirits in the smoky shadows of the Hemlock, Rubenstein said the story wasn’t quite autobiographical, although he probably shared many special moments at the dive with his fiancée, Morgan Stanley, who sings and plays guitar for The Telephone Numbers. What the song does chronicle eloquently is the passing of a bygone era—the Hemlock Tavern shuttered its doors in 2018 and in its place stand drab, indistinct condos. That element of weighty nostalgia is found tucked into most of the songs on the album—an apt reflection from a group made up of artists trying to navigate the challenges of urban life.
Like most local bands, The Telephone Numbers are an intriguing amalgamation of members from various other groups, with Rubenstein contributing to The Reds, Pinks and Purples, drummer Phil Lantz playing for Chime School and the Neutrals, Stanley fronting the Umbrellas and bassist Charlie Ertola is part of Never Bored.
Leaning into the group’s San Francisco origins, Rubenstein enlisted seemingly every local musician to help with the recording of “Scarecrow II.” Chime School lead singer Andy Pastalaniec plays organ on several tracks, local post-hardcore/power pop hero Tony Molina contributes guitar and Speakeasy Studios founder Alicia Vanden Heuvel (who also produced the album) helps with piano and bells. Perhaps the most noticeable collaborator is K. Dylan Edrich, whose elegiac violin work provides an undercurrent of whimsical pathos to the “Scarecrow II.”
That melancholic, autumnal feel permeates the album, which artfully catalogs a changing city, relationships in flux, endless career challenges and other reference points that feel hyper specific to modern living in San Francisco. Among the many standout tracks on the record is “This Job is Killing Me,” an austere, gleaming observation about the insecurities and daily drudgeries of musicians who struggle to make ends meet in a city that’s prohibitively expensive.
“There are so many great songs about just eking out a living and I thought it would be interesting to explore that motif from the perspective of a musician,” said Rubenstein. “I’ve never had the pleasure of actually making money off of music, but regardless of our day job, I think most of us would agree that we spend most of our day thinking about music. And then to care about something so much and maybe not have it resonate with people like you hoped it would, you start to feel these feelings of jealousy and envy. Like, ‘why not me?’ You end up playing mind games with yourself.”
It's an insider's point of view from a musician who’s spent his life loyally dedicated to the scene. Rubenstein went to the same high school as Ertola and the two bonded early over their love of music.
“I knew Thomas because he was friends with some kids I grew up with in North Beach,” said Ertola. “We didn’t really cross paths much in high school because I was a few years older, but I could tell right away that he was going to be part of this next crop of cool rockers.”
Ertola and Rubenstein first started playing music together when they were in Los Angeles. Rubenstein was going to college at the time and discovered that Ertola was in the city as well, so he moved in with his friend, living for a time in his closet. They had a short-lived project called the Dripmen before they both moved back to the Bay in 2016, at which time they formed a new band, the Love-Birds.
Upon Rubenstein’s relocation to San Francisco, he started working at Amoeba Records, where he met Stanley. Eventually Stanley was enlisted in The Telephone Numbers, adding a female vocalist dynamic to the group. The group was later joined by Lantz, who was a fan of Rubenstein’s music.
“I was always a big Love-Birds fan and used to see them play a lot,” said Lantz. “I think I might have drunkenly said, ‘if you ever need anyone to play drums, I’m in!’ And Thomas actually called me up on that idea. I wasn’t expecting it, but I was stoked to hear from him.”
By virtue of their time working at Amoeba, Rubenstein was introduced to Glenn Donaldson, the creative force behind the Reds, Pinks and Purples. Donaldson mixed the first Telephone Numbers album, “The Ballad of Doug” and enlisted Rubenstein to play in his band. Donaldson, whose foggy dreampop has helped define a sound with roots in the Richmond District, added a few songwriting contributions to “Scarecrow II,”—as if the album needed any further proof of its deeply communal vibe.
But whereas Donaldson’s Reds, Pinks and Purples embrace purring feedback dissonance to create a soft undercurrent of white noise, the Telephone Numbers are defined by a skylarking clarity. The songs are vibrant and ringing, and unusually expansive for an album with such a homegrown feel. Strings, horns, whirling organs and pianos dot the track list, recalling the boundless baroque approach of mid-2000s indie rock groups like Broken Social Scene, The Fiery Furnaces and, especially, The Clientele.
Rubenstein’s voice rises and falls according to the emotional tides of the album, echoing ragged defiance (“Battle of Blythe Road”), forlorn resignation (“Ebb Tide”) and starry rumination (“Hemlock.”) Stanley nearly steals the show with her impassioned vocals on “Telephone Numbers Theme,” a jubilant rallying cry for the band.
The album is filled with love songs, although they feel less like observations on personal relationships and more about being enraptured in a specific time and place. Despite its stirring narrative, both Rubenstein and Stanley concede that “Hemlock” is not a direct take on their fateful meeting. Instead, it’s an homage to a piece of San Francisco history that acted as a warm embrace for fellow outsiders, despite its occasionally unappealing aroma.
The Hemlock might be gone, but in the starry recollections of The Telephone Numbers, its memory will persist.
Show Details:
Telephone Numbers with The Goods and Joel Cusumano
Where: The Make-Out Room
When: 6:30 p.m., Friday, November 21
Tickets: $15, available at the door
The Telephone Numbers new album, “Scarecrow II,” is available for purchase via Bandcamp and Slumberland Records.