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Broken Dreams Club Interview: Stuart Murdoch

Photo Credit: Stuart Murdoch

As the chief songwriter for beloved Glaswegian indie-pop group Belle and Sebastian, Stuart Murdoch has created some of the most memorable musical characters of the past 30 years.

Whether illustrating a teenager’s love for equines, speculating on the sexual orientation of a professional baseball player, documenting a trove of irreverent sinners, lamenting the lost potential of brilliant artists or cataloging despondent loners, Murdoch has long demonstrated a singular capacity for world-building in four-minute time frames.

So, it should come as no surprise that he’s written his first novel. 

Largely autobiographical the novel, “Nobody’s Empire,” captures the protagonist, Stephen, as he battles myalgic encephalomyelitis (commonly referred to as chronic fatigue syndrome), an ailment that Murdoch has contended with for more than 30 years. In the novel–named after a 2019 Belle and Sebastian song–Stephen befriends another isolated teen, Kira, before eventually setting off for a transformative trip to California–events that mirror Murdoch’s life.  

On Monday, February 10 at The Chapel, Murdoch will sit down with Slumberland Records founder Mike Schulman and local artist Nommi Alouf to discuss “Nobody’s Empire.” 

Prior to that, Murdoch spoke with Broken Dreams Club about the challenges of his illness, visiting San Francisco, transitioning into novel writing and what’s next for him and his band. 

For starters—how is this book tour going? How has the experience been so far?

It’s working out great—I'm really enjoying it. I mean that in a practical sense. I'm a bit under the weather at the moment, so that's the kind of downside. But then the upside is everything else. It feels like I’m just travelling around, carrying a suitcase full of stories with And with the format so far, it’s almost like an American football game, with four quarters. I start with doing readings and we play some music clips. Then we do the interview with the host and I then play some songs acoustically. And then we finish with a Q and A. It's a nice variety for an evening—everything moves quite smoothly. 

You’ve spent the last 30 years on tour, for the most part. What’s it like to be travelling now, by yourself? With no band and only a book in hand—as you say just carrying a suitcase full of stories? 

I’ve always been quite reticent since the band started to actually get out my guitar, and do something by myself, because, you know—I fought so hard to get my band, I don’t want to be without them. But I think this has been a perfect situation for me–to kind of combine a few things by playing music and doing the reading. It’s almost like, if you have that tool in your arsenal, then why not use it? If I was just supporting a book, and I was just going to visit book shops, it wouldn't be so much fun, and you also wouldn’t get that many people showing up. It’s been nice to mix things up a bit.

I don’t think anyone is in the least bit surprised that you’ve written a book, given your novelistic approach to your songwriting. From the very beginning, Belle and Sebastian introduced such rich, fully developed characters. You go all the way back to the “State I’m In,” which is probably the first Belle and Sebastian song many people heard, and there is this central character who feels so real and multi-dimensional. Where did that approach come from—was it the result of being an avid reader?

I think there's such a huge difference—it’s almost like a through-the-looking-glass thing. There are two sides of this endeavor—one of being a consumer of artistic things, and the other to be a producer. They’re so separate and different. Because I can remember trying to write songs in this era when I was consuming a lot of music and reading books all the time, and I just couldn't do it. It wasn’t until I went through this illness and disaster, and years of being in this kind of vacuum that I actually found my own voice. And there’s not many things I set out to do. It just kind of comes out that way, and that's genuine. We were talking about this last night in Toronto, and I think it all comes back to the illness. It all comes back to my life stopping when I was 20. I had these four, five, six years of very little happening. And instead of being part of the world, I had to just be the observer. And at that point, I started to romanticize about the people that I was observing. I could be sitting in a laundry, and somebody would come in, put their wash in, and leave, and I would write a song about them. There was so much that I extrapolated. I wondered what their life was like, because I was standing still. So, I put those thoughts and movements into my songs.

Back to “Nobody’s Empire.” You started writing this book in 2019, right? What prompted the decision to write a novel?

Yeah, it was a kind of lazy decision. I wanted to do something creative that wasn't out of the realm of the band. I thought I might do a comic novel, and it actually started like that. I was supplying pages to a friend of mine, Graham, who was illustrating them, but once I got going, it sort of quickly outstripped the pace that he could write. And I thought, I'm ‘I'm just going to keep going with this and see where it goes.’

How daunting was this task? You’ve been writing almost mini-novels your whole life in the forms of your songs—did they prepare you at all for this endeavor?

I think I was probably just naturally building up to this. I remember Stuart [David] from the band in the early days, he used to write novels, and I thought that was amazing. It was like the moon to me that somebody could just sit down and fill page upon page of thoughts and observations. But again, I'm quite lazy. I don't try too hard. It’s great if you're going to start somewhere, to do what I’m doing. Like “This Side of Paradise,” or “A Portrait of an Artist As a Young Man,” just this side-step from what actually happened. It wasn't this huge amount of invention.

And the novel shares the same title as the 2019 Belle and Sebastian song that opened “Girls in Peacetime Want to Dance,” which captures the struggles you’ve had with chronic fatigue syndrome. When you wrote that song, did you have any idea that you could expand it into a novel?

Not at all, actually. Even that song surprised me at the time, because although I've been writing inadvertently about ME for years, that was the first time that I'd really sort of captured it in the era and the time when it happened. It was actually years later when I did actually write about those initial experiences. I was doing some live readings of some of the passages before the book was fully written, and somebody afterwards on Facebook commented, ‘oh, you should call your book “Nobody’s Empire.”’ I immediately realized that that would be the obvious title.

You’ve been very candid about your struggles with chronic fatigue syndrome. When you were first diagnosed, what were those early periods like? I can imagine that must have been incredibly frustrating, since so little was known about the disease at the time.

It was a psychological nightmare. It's like the rug is pulled right out from under you and your life is stopped completely. And nobody can tell you what's going on. There is no road map to recovery–not even a road map to being ill. I remember going to see a specialist, and he was very nice and said, ‘look, we don't know much about this. You know more about this than we do.’ And then he sent me home, and that was it.

The main character in the book, Stephen, obviously shares so many similarities with you. Was there ever any thought of writing a memoir instead of a novel?

Again, I really didn’t think too much about it. The moment that I wrote the first page, it set the tone. I gave Stephen a name, and everything just felt natural to me. It wasn't really until I finished the book and my agent was like, ‘what is this? Is this autofiction?’ I didn't even know what that was. He said, ‘well, it's not a straight memoir,’ and I said, well, it can be whatever you want it to be. But in the end, I'm happy that they called it fiction.

In the book, Stephen meets Carrie, who is also dealing with health issues. I think people can make all sorts of assumptions about who Carrie might represent—is she based in real life? Or was that character completely made up?

She is very much based on my best friend, Kira. Kira is on the cover of “If You’re Feeling Sinister,” and she's my best friend to this day. The friendship is the absolute core of the book—I meet her on page two and that’s where the magic is. Everything just flows from there—that friendship. And there is a little bit of, ‘well, If they're so close, why aren’t they a couple?’ It’s definitely the central relationship in the book.

With a subject matter that hewed so closely to your life, did it feel liberating to write “Nobody’s Empire?” Or was it scary to be that open?

I don't find anything scary. When you've been through something like ME and you're still going through it, and you've had really bad depression and all that stuff, creativity and being open is actually almost a relief—it’s like the counterpoint. It's a consolation to be so open about this. It's almost like an excuse to be completely, well—not necessarily brave, but just out there. Kira is the same way—where it's sort of bred in us—this inborn sort of stubbornness and openness, because we know what life is. Life is too short, and we've wasted so much time being ill—so we’re just going to tell it how it is. Since the start of Belle and Sebastian, that's always been my driving thing. I have no qualms about it. I will never turn away from getting up on a stage because the alternative is darkness and that is no fun at all.

A central part of the novel and a central part of your life story is this journey to California. You’ve talked in the past about how transformative that experience was for you, and I know that you lived in San Francisco for a short while. Why was that moment in your life so important for you?

Well, it was an accidental thing to be honest. It could have been Melbourne, or it could have been Nice. In the book—and what happened in the book did kind of happen to us—the boys just picked a place to get away for the winter and be warm in a Mediterranean climate. In real life, we actually picked San Diego because we heard it had the best weather all around. But the thing is— the plane landed in San Francisco first. We were there for a few days before we continued our journey. San Francisco was really the first city outside of Glasgow I spent any time in. It got its hooks into me really quickly. And so we went down to San Diego, and that's written about in the book, but I was always getting pulled back to the Bay. San Francisco was such a contrast to Glasgow and there was an obvious liberation happening there. We started to literally feel better because of the weather and there was a lot of baggage that was lifted there. I know it’s a cliché, but when you come to a new city, especially one California, you can be whoever the hell you want to be. In Glasgow, there were a lot of people that still wanted you to stay in your place. They would look down their nose at you if you wanted to try and be a songwriter. It really did all happen in California for us.

And, like every novelist, you have to determine when the story ends. How did that process work for you? 

I remember the advice that a friend of mine, Barry Mendel, gave me. He was the producer in a movie I made called “God Help The Girl.” When I was writing that movie, he said, ‘whatever you do, before you start writing, just decide where it starts and where it stops.’ And so, I used that for the book. I did at least know that much when I set out to write it. I knew it started when I met with Kira, and I knew it was going to finish two years later, just when I came back from the trip. That at least was set in stone. But actually, it's funny, because the American part originally was only meant to be about the last 20 percent of the book. It contrasts nicely with the first half—where we really don't go out of our postcode area. Suddenly, the two of us are in California and more starts to happen. And I ended up writing much more than I thought I would about that trip.

Going back to San Francisco—you’ll be returning here on Monday, to speak at the Chapel. Are your experiences coming back to San Francisco always special moments for you? Anything you’re particularly looking forward to seeing here?

I just let it happen. Sometimes, when you're on tour, you don't get a chance to do all the things you want to do, but in San Francisco it tends to be different. There’s a character called Jeannie in the book, and I get to hang with the real Jeannie in San Francisco, which is great. She's remained a firm friend for years. Actually, the last time I was there, in May, we rolled up to Oakland, and I was, as usual, really sick. I got off the bus and I went for acupuncture, and it was like a Saturday morning, and the center said they could take me, but I would have to be in a class where I was part of a demonstration. I went into this kind of lecture theater, and they put me on a table. And there were like, 50 Chinese students learning acupuncture, and I was the subject. There was this very good healing vibe about, and they were all smiling and happy to be there. I was ‘like, San Francisco, you've done it again.’ I got out of the acupuncture and I thought I should really go back to the bus and rest, but then I just said ‘fuck it, I'm getting on the BART’, and I ended up in Mission Dolores Park. I made it there and met my friend Heather, and we just caught up and it was such an amazing day.

You’ll be speaking with Mike Schulman from Slumberland Records and Nommi Alouf. You mentioned these book talks as almost “American football games with four quarters.” What can we expect on Monday?

The fun thing about every talk so far—and I've done this in the UK as well—is that every night, it's a different host. Every day goes in a different direction. We don't know where it's going to go, and I'm really happy about that. This will be the first time that there's two hosts and Nommi is kind of in the book–she’s represented by this character called Sharon, who is a DJ that Stephen runs into. But I think it will be that kind of slightly misty thing, where it’s kind of hard to tell what will happen.

Looking ahead—any other novels in your future? Or was this a one-time endeavor?

I love storytelling and I guess music is what I'm best at. But I'm always just waiting for the next thing. My radar is on all the time. I think on the whole, I'll probably do less Belle and Sebastian stuff in the next 10 or so years, and try to do slightly different creative endeavors. I'm not sure if I'll end up writing another book, but I always feel very creative, and I know that time is short.

Belle and Sebastian played a bunch of shows last year, but nothing is scheduled for 2025. Do you all have any live dates in the offing? 

We’re going to wait until 2026 and we're going to some bigger shows. Usually, we start recording music right after we're done touring, but I wanted a little break. I wanted a chance to maybe think about doing something else. Those guys are all doing their own thing, I mean, Stevie [Jackson] is recording just now, Chris [Geddes] and David [McGowan] are writing together, Sarah [Martin] is writing. Everybody's doing their own thing.

What about new music? You all have been incredibly prolific over your career. “Late Developers” came out in 2023—can we expect new music soon?

Yeah--there won't be an album, which is what I was kind of hinting at. I personally want to put my creativity into a different project. I've been writing different music. I'm interested in writing for choirs, actually—more like a kind of spiritual music, this kind of gospel, churchy type music. This is just early days, and I really don't know which choir I'm going to do it for, but sometimes you just gotta swing the bat the other way and see what happens.

Show Details:
Stuart Murdoch “Nobody’s Empire Book Tour”
Where: The Chapel
When: 7:30 p.m., Monday, February 10
Tickets: $30, available here. 


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Will Oldham Fittingly Brings Tales of Grace to Show at Grace Cathedral

Photo Credit: David Kasnic

Tucked quietly near the end of “The Purple Bird,”—the latest album from folk-rock troubadour Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, aka Will Oldham—is an austere, finger-picked cover song of the 1980 gospel standard, “Is My Living in Vain,” originally recorded by The Clark Sisters.

A hushed and devastating testament to the power of the righteous struggle, the track acts as a serene call to stay strong despite all life’s challenges, and serves as a centerpiece of “The Purple Bird.” 

Prior to his graceful cover song, Oldham populates the album with his typical collection of absurdist characters and vignettes, ridiculing and lambasting the hypocrisy and selfishness prevalent in so many elements of our society while painting a portrait of a modern day culture that is both hilarious and horrifying.

And while the album has plenty of earnest moments, none quite touch the plaintive beauty of “Is My Living in Vain,” with Oldham delivering the chorus in a defiantly triumphant tone, stating eloquently, “No, of course not/It's not all in vain.”

“If anyone is questioning by the time they get to the 11th song on this album, how the hell does anyone keep their optimism, that track provides the answer,” said Oldham. “It’s because that optimism is born out of necessity. There is almost no other choice.” 

On Saturday, Oldham will bring those tunes to San Francisco, playing a Folk Yeah-produced show at the Grace Cathedral Church—a strangely fitting venue for an album anchored by beguilingly hopeful undertones.

Produced in Nashville, “The Purple Bird” contains all the classic elements of a record made by Oldham, who has recorded under a myriad of monikers, including the Palace Brothers, Palace Music, Superwolf and his own name. The album is filled with quirky Americana adjacent and gospel-tinged elements, bolstered at all times by Oldham’s soulful, quavering vocals and his unique characterizations of modern day life.

Never an overtly political songwriter, Oldham takes a more direct approach on “The Purple Bird,” writing painful laments on environmentalism (“Downstream”) while devilishly skewering the nation’s obsessions with firearms (“Guns Are For Cowards.”) The latter tune is a jaunty, lilting jig with shockingly direct lyrics (“Who would you shoot in the face?/Who would you shoot in the brain?”), offering a bracing juxtaposition for the strange acceptance we have for gun violence.

“There are some people who like to fight for something, and some people who just like to fight,” said Oldham. “There seems to be a significant portion of our population of our country that is just bred to fight. They’re the fighter ants of our colony.”

While “The Purple Bird” is filled with weighty themes, it’s still an Oldham production, so there are plenty of impish, ribald tunes, evoking the rapscallion nature of 70s outlaw country tunes. “The Water’s Fine” is a banjo-powered ode to the wonders of washing away your worries in the local swimming hole, while “Tonight With The Dogs I’m Sleeping,” is an uproarious recollection of drinking too much and having hell to pay from your old lady. 

With its familiar mantras (“Never liked sleeping out in the yard/But crawling up the stairs is too damn hard”) “Tonight With the Dogs I’m Sleeping,” feels like a lost B-side from a dusty cowboy bar single.

“There were four of us just sitting around the kitchen table and that song kind of just started happening,” said Oldham. “I mean, nobody spoke aloud the name Hank Williams, but we were all thinking it. Everyone was probably, consciously or subconsciously, aware that we were expanding upon the concept that Hank had tackled so well with ‘Moving on Over.’”

Although his twangy voice and his comfort with traditional American instruments (fiddles, slide guitars, mandolins) would make Oldham a natural for the Nashville scene where “The Purple Bird” was created, he’s never been one for conformity. A true outsider, Oldham grew up in the punk environs of Louisville (he’s childhood friends with the members of the legendary post-rockers Slint), and has always zigged and zagged throughout his career, departing from certain sounds, concepts and approaches right when listeners might have him pegged.

In many ways, “The Purple Bird,” is the latest example of that slippery nature. In these ridiculous times, when the baseline assumption is that music should reflect an angry and wrathful reaction to oligarchy, cruelty and bigotry, Oldham has created an album asking for grace. “The Purple Bird” is not an apologist tract for any of today’s loathsome behavior, but it does imply a somber plea for unity.

That sentiment is best captured in the understated beauty of the album’s opening track, “Turned to Dust (Rolling On),” an irony-free paean to the notion that our similarities are stronger than our differences. In that track, Oldham sings “If we rely on love to lift us higher/Things'll be all right for you and me.” 

It is simple and schmaltzy and saccharine and also undeniably true. When Oldham delivers that line, it really feels like has no option but to believe in that kind of beauty.

Show Details
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy with David Ferguson
Where: Grace Cathedral Church 
When: 8 p.m., Saturday, February 8 
Tickets: $58, available here.


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Broken Dreams Club Interview: Tim Heidecker

Photo Credit: Chantal Anderson

As the creator of programs like “Tom Goes to the Mayor” and “Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!” Tim Heidecker—more so than any other artist—helped establish the absurdist, surrealist comedy stylings that are ubiquitous today. His influences can be found in everything from television commercials to programs like “The Eric Andre Show” to the work of comics like Nathan Fielder, Julio Torres, John Early and Kate Berlant.

For the past decade, however, Heidecker has also cultivated a second career as a plainspoken and earnest musician, embracing the sounds of 70s’ Laurel Canyon singer-songwriters as well as troubadours like Randy Newman and Elvis Costello. Last October, Heidecker released “Slipping Away,” his latest collection of folk-inflected rock songs. 

On February 22, Heidecker and his Very Good Band will perform at Bimbo’s 365 Club. Prior to that show, Broken Dreams Club spoke with Heidecker about the inspirations for his new album, among other topics.

Your latest tour kicks off next week here at Bimbos’ here in San Francisco. How are you all preparing for this latest batch of shows?

We’re going to rehearse this week, but the San Francisco show is going to be interesting, because we’re not doing a warm-up show first in Los Angeles, like we normally do. We’re just jumping into the deep end. It’s a whole new set, and we’re going to try some new things that I haven't done before on the road, so it's going to be a scary first show for me. I'm sure we'll learn some things. It'll be interesting to get audience feedback from the Bay Area. I mean, it will probably make for a really fun, unique show. We might make some mistakes, but I always kind of like seeing that as an audience member—that human element of the performance.

You’ve been pretty prolific touring these past few years. You’re never taking more than a few months off between shows. How important is it for you to maintain this live music schedule, and how are you able to fit this in with all your endeavors?

Once I jumped in and put this band together it started this cycle, where my first tour led to a record with the band, and then some opportunities to play some more behind that. America is so big and there's so many places to play. You can do one route one year, and then a totally different route the next year. You get to go away and not always play the same places. So, we were able to do that for a couple years and then we were able to go to Europe. You have to plan these tours so far in advance—that’s sort of the scary thing. I think we started planning this tour a year ago, and so it's just been sitting on my calendar. It’s like this slow moving train coming my way. But I'm excited to play with this band, and to get out there and check in with the people of this country, and play these songs from the record. Maybe play some songs that I haven't played live before, and do some new stand-up comedy I’m excited about.

Obviously, you first made your name for yourself through your comedy, but you’ve been playing music for most of your life as well, right? What was your introduction to music, and have you been playing pretty much consistently since you first started? I mean, music was always an integral part of Tim and Eric…

I mean, in high school, I was a big classic rock fan, big music fan. My cousin played guitar, and some of his friends played in, like, hardcore bands and punk bands. And it was just the thing to do. I wasn't a sports guy. I was kind of into theater and music, before comedy. Really, I loved comedy too, but music was something you could actually do with your friends. You could make videos and stuff with a camcorder, but you really couldn't do much more than that with comedy. But you could put a band together, and you could rent a four track tape machine, and you could play shows. So that's what I did, and that's what most of my friends  did. And so, I kind of always maintained that part of my life. And I think in the past 10 years, it's been something I’ve taken a little more seriously. I find a lot of satisfaction in songwriting and trying to make the best records possible. 

“Slipping Away” is your latest collection of slice-of-life California folk that is composed of really pretty songs, and even more, it’s just a disarmingly earnest album. Tim and Eric basically set the template for the absurdist, ironic comedy that is absolutely ubiquitous everywhere now, but you’ve said in recent interviews how it took you a while to kind of emerge from that cocoon of irony. What did it take for you to arrive as this songwriter who is really devoid of that irony—whose songs are candid and honest and plainspoken?

I think it has a little bit to do with boredom with where I was at creatively. I'm very antsy and always looking for the next thing to do, and never really satisfied with where I am. And those kinds of tendencies have always been with me. I think I sensed that I was stuck in a creative place. So, it seemed kind of natural to me that, after 10 years of sort of very deep irony and disassociation with feelings, that the most interesting or most severe turn I could make would be to be very open and honest. And it's also just better for the music. My thing is to try to hold all these things together, or hold all these things at once, and it's sort of project based. If I want to make a record, I want that record to feel as well conceived and earnest and moving as possible. And if I'm making a season of On Cinema, I want it to be the funniest, craziest, sickest, stupidest thing you've ever seen. I just want the thing that I'm making to be the as pure a version of that thing as possible.

One of the things that makes “Slipping Away” so enjoyable is that your fears and insecurities are so damn relatable. For someone who has been so insanely prolific over the years, to hear a song like “Well’s Running Dry” is almost shocking in its plaintiveness. I would never imagine that someone like you struggles with creative blocks, but it also is a reminder that you’re a human like the rest of us. Is that something you confront a lot—finding moments where inspiration just doesn’t arrive? 

I go through periods of dry spells and this mix of maybe feeling uninspired or not very creative. And I also go through periods, where there are things that I want to do, but nobody else wants me to, or that there's no market for. You know—shows don't get picked up or movies don't happen or whatever. I have plenty of that—there is plenty of rejection in my life—me and all the people I work with. And then I have feelings of procrastination, or feeling not motivated to finish something that I started—just like everyone else. I do have nice periods of productivity where things happen. But in between all those, I wallow in that kind misery of not being always clear about what to do next. 

In that same vein, you’re very humble and grounded on this album. I’m not being hyperbolic when I say that you’re a titanic figure to so many people like me—the absolute pinnacle figure of creativity and comedy—yet on “Dad of the Year,” you seem to be coming to terms that your original dreams and aspirations might not ever come true. That seems almost a little unduly harsh, but also a reminder that we all face self-doubt. How do you cope with those feelings and are there moments when you can kind of indulgently reflect and realize that you have had a profound impact on a lot of people?

I appreciate that. The record came out really good, and I'm really happy with it and the feedback I get is always nice. People seem to really like it—but it's not like it was on any best-of list, you know what I mean? That’s sort of my career. I think that there is real appreciation. I hear a lot of nice stuff, but I think from the beginning, even with Tim and Eric stuff, there was always this sort of feeling of not being treated the way some other people are treated. We don’t maybe get the recognition that I think we deserve. And that that might not be your perspective, but it is mine. So, when I'm playing “Dad of the Year,” I do feel that way sometimes. 

The New York Times did a really nice story about you recently!

For sure. And not to get into the weeds of the media, but there is the kind of media where it’s like a profile or an interview or conversation, and those are always really nice. But then there's this other editorial side, that is maybe a little snobby or a little dismissive of me. And that’s probably because of the insecurity of them asking, ‘is this a joke?’ ‘Is he being sincere?’ I think there is a feeling of not really knowing. Like—where am I coming from, even though I'm very explicit about my intent.

One of the joys of your album is the commonplace things that make you happy. “Bottom of the 8th” is just a sweet song about enjoying a baseball game with your daughter. When you were in that moment, were you thinking, ‘man this would make for a good song?”

That one definitely was written on the road. It was a combination of things. My daughter is getting to the age where we can go and do things together, and it's really fun. And she loves baseball. I love baseball. We go to the games, and we can hang out like a couple of pals. You know, it's really a beautiful thing. I was literally in North Carolina in the summertime, down the street from where the Durham Bulls play. It was all swirling in my head. I sat at the piano and just started playing a song about taking my daughter to a baseball game. And it's probably because I was missing my family on the road. But yeah, it just felt like one of those songs where I was surprised it hadn't been written yet.

And then there is “Trippin (Slippin)” which is about as close as you get to the hedonistic rock n roll lifestyle. What was that experience like—eating some mushroom in a random hotel, right?

I had dabbled in that stuff years and years ago in high school, like probably a lot of suburban Gen Xers, and really hadn't returned to it in a long time. I felt very paranoid. I'm not a drug guy, and I don't do that kind of stuff very much. And I was nervous. But there is this sort of a mushroom renaissance happening the past few years and we had finished most of the tour. We had like two more shows left. We had a day off. We were in the desert, and I really had grown very close to the band and really enjoyed them, and we just got along so well. And we had a bag of mushrooms from a good, trusted source, and I thought, ‘I'll take a little bit’, you know, and that was the key. The dosage is so important. When I was 17 years old, I’d probably take, like, a whole bag of the stuff and then feel like the world was coming to an end. You find that little dose that makes you feel like things are cool and you can sit by the pool and just relax. So, I wrote that song coming from that earnest place of like, an embarrassingly honest drug song.

You have so many great contemporary musicians on Office Hours, and you’ve toured with indie rock heroes like Snail Mail and Waxahatchee. And your pals with Weyes Blood and the Lemon Twigs and Jonathan Rado. Still, a lot of your music seems drawn from that Laurel Canyon rock and Randy Newman kind of singer-songwriter era—are there any newer musicians who inspired or influenced this album?

I mean, first of all, all those people you mentioned seem to also draw from that era and that's probably why we all get along pretty well. We have the same musical language or whatever. But yeah, we had this guy, Christian Lee Hutson, on the show recently and he talked about This Is Lorelei. Do you know that guy?

Yeah—that album is one of my absolute favorites of 2024

Yeah. I don't listen to a lot of new music, but when I find something like that, I just listen to it all the time. I listen to it every day. And so that hopefully will turn me on to some other things. I've been listening to my own music trying to get ready for this tour. And I've been going back to early Dylan because I ended up really liking “A Complete Unknown,”—

which I was very surprised about. I thought it was going to be, you know, not good, but I ended up really liking it. I'm such a big Dylan fan. Yeah, so I started going back and listening to those early records that I hadn't listened to in a while, and kind of marveling at what just unbelievable well of creativity that was happening when he was so young.

Looking ahead to this show at Bimbo’s—are you excited to be coming back to San Francisco? Are you familiar with the venue at all?

Yeah—I'm excited. I've never been there. The past few times I've been to San Francisco, we played at the Palace of Fine Arts, which is not like my favorite room. Just kind of felt a little more like you'd see an opera there or something. But we’re happy to be playing in San Francisco. Ellie [Athayde], our bass player, is excited because her parents are from the Bay Area. She said her parents used to go to Bimbo’s when they were teenagers. 

And you’ve got Kyle Mooney opening! That’s amazing! What can we expect there? Will you be joining him at all? I know you mentioned to expect a little comedy alongside your music…

Yeah—Kyle's opening, and then I've been doing this routine. It's not my stand up character, but I've been doing this routine in LA that's really fun a little bit more for me. I haven't really talked about it very much, but I've been collecting YouTube comments and Instagram comments and Facebook comments and I've curated some conversations that I think are interesting to discuss. I've done that with a little slide show. I want to dedicate a good 20 minutes of the show to me goofing around to break up some of the music. A side of me that you probably see more on Office Hours. I'm still putting that together, but I'm excited—it will be a multimedia thing.

Is Kyle going to join for that? Or is he going to be doing his own thing?

We’ll probably overlap a little bit. It will be a new thing for this tour—picking up different, different openers along the way. We’ll have Neil Hamburger and DJ Douggpound. I’ve got this great community—not only of the audience, but of people like Neil and Doug. I’d rather just try to keep it in my little clique, and I think the audience is gonna love it.

And to transition just for a moment to some of your other endeavors. The latest season of On Cinema debuted on Christmas and it’s as epic as ever. Newman Heidecker seems to have a nice new sheen to his face.  When you and Gregg first started this, did you have any inkling at all that it would still be going 15 years later and not only that, but it would also evolve into this all-encompassing cinematic universe?

We had no idea. I mean, we started small, but it did occur to us early on that they're always going to put out movies, so we could always do this—there's always something to talk about. And once we got season four or five, we realized that you could tell some pretty interesting stories without spending a lot of money, because you can just talk about things. You don't have to really see them happen. It’s more like radio play or something. And so, it’s kind of compounded on itself, and the stories got more complicated and more involved. But at the core, there was always this grounding foundation of two guys, who hate each other, talking about movies. And every year, I think ‘does this still work?’ ‘Is this still funny?’ Even when we're shooting it, there's this uncertainty about it, but then the cuts start coming in, and we're like, ‘yep, there it is.’ I feel as happy about it as I've ever felt. And there isn't really any reason to stop, now that we're doing this paid model, the subscription model, which has been working. I'm always looking for it to expand, and we're working on getting an app and getting it so you can watch it on your TV and stuff like that. It's like running this small business that is not always fun, but it's great that we can keep doing it. Gregg still makes me laugh. I still make myself laugh.

Yeah, the last few episodes were as funny as any On Cinema episode ever. One of the things I think must be enjoyable for you is the evolution of the Tim Heidecker character. There’s a new look every season. I can imagine it’s fun to just embrace that ridiculous nature of the character. 

Sometimes the story drives that, and sometimes it’s just where I am at in my life. And yeah, We have a text thread that throws looks and ideas back and forth. I don’t think we thought this new look was going to be that great at first. And then when we started doing the hair, we all just started laughing. And everyone's running around, like, ‘you gotta come in and look at this’. Eric [Notarnicola], our director, when he first saw me, came by and was just like, ‘Oh my god. Wow.’ I mean, we still crack ourselves up like that.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask if you have any future creative projects planned with Eric. Anything in the works there?

Yeah, we are writing something that we've been planning to write for a while. We’re going to start before I go on tour, and then hopefully be writing when I get back. And it's a movie idea that is still in the early stages. But hopefully that will find its way into your lives sometime this year or next year.

Anything I missed here? Any other upcoming projects you’re working on at the moment? I’m finally catching up on What We Do in The Shadows and you’re great in that…

At this point, my life is just touring, and then Office Hours and On Cinema—and a little acting. So that's it, right now. I'm not looking to do more than that.

Show Details
Tim Heidecker and the Very Good Band with Kyle Mooney, DJ Douggpound and a special command performance from Tim “no more bullshit” Heidecker
Where: Bimbo’s 365 Club 
When: 8 p.m., Wednesday, January 22 
Tickets: $48.88, available here.


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Lucky–the latest brainchild of musicians Andrew St. James and Peter Kegler–to play at the Independent on January 11

The Lucky Horseshoe is not a glamorous place. 

A dive located in Bernal Heights—one of San Francisco’s less glitzier neighborhoods—the bar is a nondescript joint where locals can stop by for a few beers and a couple rounds of pool. The lighting is nice and dim, the drinks are reasonably priced, and the crowds are manageable. There is a small stage where you might hear a cover band playing David Bowie tunes or an old-timer riffing out the blues.

And on any given night, you might find Andrew St. James and Peter Kegler ponied up to the bar, nursing a beer and having a chat. The unassuming, yeoman nature of the Lucky Horseshoe makes for an ideal locale for the two veteran San Francisco musicians, which is why it’s no surprise that they opted to name their latest project—Lucky—after the venerable institution. 

Both have put in plenty of hours grinding it out as a working musician. While St. James still hasn’t reached 30 years of age, he’s been plying the trade nearly half his life, starting off as a teenage wunderkind recording under his own name while also performing in outfits like Juan Wayne, Fast Times and the French Cassettes. Similarly, Kegler has a lengthy resume of artistic ventures, playing with bands such as Half Stack, Babewatch and Share.

As a result, the pair have a unique view into the itinerant nature that’s inherent with being a working musician—the joy of playing raucous late-night gigs with your best friends in strange cities and the subsequent hangovers and uncertainties of the day after. That restlessness and wayfaring energy is captured gloriously in Lucky’s first collection of songs—a seven-song album that is due to be released in early 2025. 

“When Andrew and I became buddies and started working on this project, we were both going through some transitional times, which is kind of natural for what we do,” said Kegler. “It was almost like a molting phase—this shedding of layers. There were a lot of changes happening to both of us, and I think that’s clearly reflected in the music.

On January 11, Lucky will play those tunes of modern day drifters at the Independent as part of a support gig for the French Cassettes (St. James will be playing double duty that night.)

While both are stalwarts of the local music scene, Kegler and St. James didn’t actually become acquainted with each other until the tail end of 2022. St. James, who has been running a regular music booking residency for years under his Fast Times moniker, enlisted Half Stack for a gig at the Rickshaw Stop. He and Kegler hit it off while at the show and after a few drinks, committed to playing with one another in the future.

“Andrew can probably attest to this as well, but I’ve had that same conversation a million times before with other musicians,” said Kegler. “Like, ‘oh dude, I love your band, we should make music together,’ but then nothing ever happens. But this was the real thing—I think that’s a testament to how aligned we are on our approach to music.”

Prior to committing in earnest to collaborating together, the two had plenty of written material already in the works, which they brought collectively to the partnership. And despite existing in some forms before the band, the songs on Lucky’s debut album feel remarkably cohesive and natural—a testament to St. James and Kegler’s creative chemistry.

While both are Bay Area natives—St. James grew up in San Francisco and Kegler is from Orinda—there is a decidedly bucolic feel to the Lucky songs. St. James has an inherent twang that imbues his songs with a countryish vibe—more Bakersfield bard than Haight street hippie—and Kegler’s plainspoken approach has a similarly high-desert plains appeal.

Their album kicks off with Kegler taking the lead on “Falling Through,” a whirling, lilting jaunt about underachievement and disappointment that sounds like Merle Haggard injected with a high voltage shot of the Pixies. It sets the tone for a collection of songs that map out the highs and lows of relationships, the tenuous nature of being a creative person and the general volatility of post-pandemic life.

“Traveler” is a gorgeous, urgent Americana tune, with St. James extolling the virtues of wide-eyed wonder—a paean to the joy and discovery of not knowing what the next day will bring. Similarly, “Friends” is a gloriously raucous ode to hellcat living—a collection of blurry barroom memories and booze-soaked backstage reveries, with St. James highlighting the song by stating the obvious—“Believe it or not/I don’t think we’re too well/as far as minds go.”

“The lyrics in ‘Friends,’ are mostly me just writing things that I literally witnessed,” said St. James. “There is a lot of hassle in this kind of lifestyle, but there is also so much to celebrate. That song is about remembering what this is all about and that’s the people. Like, it's all about the people you do this with, and the people do you this for. This is a people job, and I love that.”

But the album isn’t simply an unflinching exultation to excess—far from it. Following the one-two roar of “Traveler” and “Friends,” is Kegler’s austere “Lines,” a beautiful ballad that captures the headaches and heartbreak that inevitably comes with a nomadic life—a mournful elegy about lost time and missed opportunities. In a related vein is “Colder,” a lamentation about dishonesty, shame and taking things for granted, made all the more sorrowful by St. James’ cracked delivery. It recalls the haunted majesty of Magnolia Electric Company’s Jason Molina (a noted inspiration for the album.)

The songs are rife with references to motion—whether it's barreling down highways, navigating city streets or feeling forlorn on the back of a bus. Those extracts are literal—so much of a musician’s life is in transit—as well as figurative—apt metaphors and analogies to relate a general feeling of disquiet.

“This is kind of the reality of our life,” said St. James. “Peter has had a lot of projects he’s worked on; I’ve had a ton of projects. You’re always finishing one thing and starting another thing. There is always an end and then a beginning—a changing of circumstance or focus. I’m sure, subconsciously, that bleeds into how we both write our songs.”

With that in mind, St. James and Kegler both seem realistically grounded but cautiously optimistic about the future of Lucky. They’re exploring label options for the release of their album (which is still untitled) and are committed to playing more shows in the future. They’re discussing the possibility of releasing a single following their gig at the Independent while also exploring other options to promote the project. 

Until then, the duo will continue to catalog and collect the moments that make their music so worthwhile—those twilit times in an empty bar or the epiphanic moments when the sun shines through on a California coastal highway. 

“We started this thing off just writing songs together and they were kind of an amalgamation of our styles,” said Kegler. “We didn’t have a lot of conversations about the future of the band at first, but I think we both believe in this project. This is a real band—this is a real thing. And we’re looking forward to seeing what happens next.”

Show Details
Lucky with French Cassettes and Tino Drima
Where: The Independent
When: 9 p.m., Saturday, January 11
Tickets: $20 plus fees, available here.



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Broken Dreams Club Best Local Albums of 2024

We are incredibly blessed to have such a vibrant music scene here in San Francisco. Here were my favorite albums from local acts in 2024 (in alphabetical order.)

April Magazine – Wesley’s Convertible Tape for the South: Languorous and soporific, the songs of April Magazine unfold humbly, slowly emerging from a hiss of lo-fi environs to reveal something eerily beautiful. On this latest collection from Peter Hurley and company, April Magazine sound ghostly and insouciant—like if Suicide was beguilingly hopeful. It makes for an unstoppable collage of atmospheric echoes.

Al Harper – The Analemma Observation League: A luminescent collection of Laurel Canyon style rock songs, the “Analemma Observation League” is an engaging and fruitful journey through the California heartland. Bolstered by buoyant, shimmering keyboards and Harper’s confident delivery, the songs feel like throwbacks to the polished studio albums of the 70s, evoking everything from Fleetwood Mac to Dolly Parton to Kate Bush. 

Chime School – The Boy Who Ran the Paisley Hotel: From the Broken Dreams Club archive: “‘The Boy Who Ran The Paisley Hotel’ features plenty of Pastalaniec’s penchant for buoyant earworm masterpieces, with singles such as “Give Your Heart Away” and “Wandering Song” feeling like lost B-sides to the debut album. There are familiar touchpoints for the record—80s UK rockers East Village and Glaswegian legends Teenage Fanclub, for example—but tracks such as “The End” and, in particular, album closer, “Points of Light,” offer a tantalizing new direction for Chime School, one imbued with melancholy and jagged dissonance.”

Cindy—Swan Lake: From the Broken Dreams Club archive: “No band has done more to draw attention to San Francisco’s nascent “fog pop” scene than Cindy, the brainchild of singer-songwriter Karina Gill. Characterized by hushed vocals, unhurried, ambling tempos and proudly lo-fi recording techniques, Cindy’s songs evoke that vivid, dusky moment when one first wakes up, still half-immersed in a dream.” 

Flowertown – Tourist Language: A combination of Tony Jay’s Michael Ramos and Cindy’s Karina Gill, Flowertown is unsurprisingly hushed and enigmatic. Like a whispered conversation overheard outside a bar on a drizzly, quiet night, “Tourist Language” hints at something deeper without revealing too much.

Tony Jay – Knife is But a Dream: Tony Jay’s Michael Ramos likes to dress up in Kiss clothing, but there is nothing theatrical or pyrotechnic about his outfit’s shadowy, lo-fi aesthetic. Like April Magazine and Cindy, Ramos strips down songs to their bare elements—skeletal outlines that resonate all the more because of their austere bareness.

Sad Eyed Beatniks – Ten Brocades: The founder of Paisley Shirt Records, the highly influential local label home to numerous bands on this list, Kevin Linn also fronts the Sad Eyed Beatniks. On “Ten Brocades,” Linn and company once again embrace the demo-style recording approach that’s so pervasive in the San Francisco scene, exploring elements of psych, garage rock and post-punk through a fuzzy, squalling lens. 

SilverwareOne True Light: From the Broken Dreams Club archive: “One True Light” is humble, yet ethereal—grounded in a DIY ethos but also uplifted by Wagoner’s boundless talent and technical expertise. It is secular spiritual creation, an ambitious concept album of sorts that combines Wagoner’s varied influences—everything from the experimental noise bands she played in college to her formative years spent in the church. Flitting between art-rock, synth pop and indie-folk, the album recalls acts such as Indigo de Souza, Bat for Lashes and Chairlift (Caroline Polachek’s pre-breakthrough outfit.) It’s a powerful statement from a musician who draws just as comfortably from Sonic Youth as she does from hymns.”

The Umbrellas – Fairweather Friend: Coming off their stunning 2021 self-titled debut, the Umbrellas somehow manage to elevate their game for their sophomore release. The hooks are bigger, the melodies sunnier and the songs catchier. Like their Slumberland Records brethren, Chime School, the Umbrellas mine the janglepop and indie-twee influences of 90s Britain to come up with a formula that is undeniably effervescent and enjoyable.

Yea-Ming and the Rumors – I Can’t Have it All: This outfit on Dandy Boy Records makes clear, sparkly Americana pop concoctions with distinct underpinnings of wistful sadness. Led by Yea-Ming Chen, this latest album recalls acts like Camera Obscura and Rilo Kiley, flitting seamlessly between fragile, delicate moments and defiant, vibrant ones.

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Broken Dreams Club 10 Best Songs of 2024

 

#10 Grandaddy – You’re Going to Be Fine, I’m Going to Hell: The bard of Modesto, Jason Lytle is never finer than on this gloriously self-deprecating, “You’re Going to Be Fine, I’m Going to Hell,” another example of his heartfelt, forlorn poetry belying his tough guy Central Valley exterior.


 #9 Porches – Music: What can I say, I’m a sucker for nostalgic ballads about the foolhardiness of loving rock n roll. Never change, Aaron Maine.

 #8 Been Stellar – Sweet: In which the youngsters from Been Stellar temporarily take a post-punk reprieve to indulge in a soaring Britpop number that would make Oasis proud.

 #7 Friko – Where We’ve Been: Few songs in the past decade have acted as a more appropriate album opener than this manifesto of an indie rock tune.

 #6 Cindy Lee – Government Cheque: A song ostensibly about living on the dole is transformed into a plaintive, haunting plea for desire and longing.

 #5 – MJ Lenderman – She’s Leaving You: Really, this could have been “Joker Lips” or “Wristwatch”—no one captures the existential angst of mundane living quite like Lenderman, who imbues a genuine sense of empathy into his lovable losers.

 #4 Christophe Owens – Do You Need a Friend: Owens channels the Beatles and his own past efforts with Girls on this orchestral tour-de-force about loneliness and heartache.

 #3 This is Lorelei – Dancing in the Club: Everyone who loves  this unstoppable piece of electronica can relate to Nate Amos’ defiant claim that he’s “a loser, always been.”

#2 Waxahatchee – Right Back To It: Almost a companion piece of “She’s Leaving You,” this snapshot of Southern-friend Americana is a glorious ode to the complexities of relationships.

 #1 This is Lorelei -- Where's Your Love Now: If he’s listening, The Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson would be proud of this cacophonous, lilting ballad of heartbreak, a treatise on rejection that doubles as Amos’ personal diary about his struggles with sobriety.

 


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Broken Dreams Club 20 Best Albums of 2024

This was another great year for music! Some old faces returned to the scene and a cadre of new artists unveiled thrilling debuts, but 2024 belonged to one act in particular. Read more about the Broken Dreams Club Top 20 albums of the year: 

#20 Mount Eerie – Night Palace: Listening to Mount Eerie is like trekking through  a dark, wintry snowstorm. Waves of dissonance and distortion knife through somnambulant tunes, creating gusts of staticky inference that barely part ways for Phil Elverum’s quiet, spoken-word soliloquies. “Night Palace,” the latest release from the Pacific Northwest’s favorite songwriter, finds Elverum once again confronting life, death and everything in between. It is haunting, sad and scary, but—like the winter sun that eventually emerges after a blizzard—ultimately hopeful.

#19 Nilufer Yanya – My Method Actor: Yanya manages to pull off a tricky tightrope act on “My Method Actor”—she has created a mature, adult album that is neither boring nor saccharine. Channeling acts like Rhye and Sault—and above all, the legendary songstress Sade—Yanya writes shimmering, smooth love and breakup songs, adding enough wrinkles and nuances to update classic R&B sounds.

#18 Porches – Shirt: After positioning himself as a maven of icy, dispassionate synth pop with Porches albums like “Pool” and “The House”, Aaron Maine has steadily gone about unraveling that pristine persona. Ever eager to explore aggressive, unchecked sounds, Maine has reached a zenith with “Shirt,” a grungy, unhinged collection of headbanging rockers. Maine does manage to squeeze in a quiet, wistful piece among the blown-out sounds: album closer “Music,” a soft and poignant ode to the artform.

#17 Los Campesinos – All Hell: I did not have a triumphant comeback from Welsh indie rock heroes Los Campesinos on my bingo card for 2024, but here we are. The giddy, dancefloor-ready tunes that populated their early releases give way to weary, mordant reflections on mortality, middle class drudgery and corrupt politics on “All Hell,” the group’s first album in seven years. It might sound macabre, but Gareth David and company capture all those travails with an endearing sense of empathy—a lived-in and honest take from a band still surviving, nearly 20 years into their existence.

#16 Vince Staples – Dark Times: A quick peek through the archives will quickly reveal that Broken Dreams Club is not your go-to repository for hip-hop coverage, but I’ve always been a fan of this Los Angeles rapper, dating back to his thrillingly murky debut, “Summertime 06.” “Dark Times” captures much of that same aesthetic, with Staples reminiscing about past memories while confronting his current conditions, all to hazy, noir-ish beats

#15 Jessica PrattHere in the Pitch: You drink in this record like a dirty martini in an empty nightclub. These are songs for the shadows—for people at the far edge of the bar, just beyond the dim overhead lights. Pratt channels 60s pop melodies and adds her own dusky, woozy inflections, singing whiskey-soaked lullabies for the closing time patrons. 

#14 Ducks LTD—Harm’s Way: From the Broken Dreams Club archive: “McGreevy’s laconic, dry delivery and tales of urban ennui offer an intriguing contrast to the propulsive, upbeat backdrop of the band’s musical output—every song feels like an urgent race to nowhere in particular. That arresting tension is prevalent throughout “Harm’s Way,” which is replete with chugging, skittering songs littered with sardonic observations.”

#13 Being DeadEels: These cheeky rockers had one of the best debut albums in recent memory with last year’s brilliant, “When Horses Would Run,” and their follow-up record is equally as engaging. Combining the restless ebullience of The Unicorns with the garage-rock scrappiness of contemporaries Dehd, Being Dead create chugging, propulsive indie pop nuggets that are perfect for the open roads of desert highways or the beer-stained environs of your local DIY club. The gang vocals of Falcon Bitch and Shmoofy (formerly Gumball—yep these are their nom de plumes) add a strange sense of gravity to their goofy tales of everyday oddballs.

#12 Japandroids – Fate & Alcohol: Every six or seven years, Japandroids emerge from their hibernation in Canada (or others part of the world) to bless us with glorious songs extolling the delight and delirium of drinking with your pals until you’re braindead. Sadly, that streak ends in 2024. The Vancouver duo have announced that this will be their last album and to add insult to injury, the band will not be touring behind their final opus. While Brian King and David Prowse have clearly grown apart over the years (a distance likely amplified by King’s newfound sobriety), the band still has a manic energy that cannot be replicated. While it doesn’t quite reach the heights of 2012’s landmark album, “Celebration Rock,” “Fate & Alcohol” is filled with spitfire anthems about love, loss and, of course, getting blitzed with your best friends. Japandroids will be missed.

#11 Parannoul – Sky Hundred: In 2003, Anthony Gonzalez of M83 set the bar for gauzy shoegaze standards with the release of masterpiece, “Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts,” but Parannoul has been steadfastly chasing that sound for the past five years. The South Korean musician—who somehow still remains anonymous—blends feedback laden guitar with lo-fi MIDI sounds–and on Sky Hundred he once again effortlessly melds the outputs to addle the listener on what’s coming from where—the sign of a true shoegaze practitioner. 

#10 Oso OsoLife Till Bones: Is there any current artist more consistent than Jade Lilitri? Every Oso Oso album is guaranteed to contain a litany of lean, pop-adjacent punk tunes that are as catchy as they are thoughtful. Never afraid to wear his heart on sleeve, Lilitri adroitly recounts tales of suburban heartbreak, reimagining Ted Leo as a perpetually lovetorn romantic.  

#9 Hovvdy – Hovvdy: Unassuming is probably not a band’s first choice for a descriptor but few words better summarize the gorgeous low-key nature of Austin duo Hovvdy. The vocals never rise much above a whisper on the band’s latest, self-titled, effort, recalling the quiet profundity of artists like Elliott Smith and recent Alex G. Whether acoustic ballads or piano numbers, the songs of Hovvdy envelope you like a warm summer breeze—a reminder of the importance of serenity and peace in turbulent times. 

#8 Been Stellar Scream From New York, NY: From the Broken Dreams Club archive: “Like their NYC forebears, Been Stellar are masters at creating atmospheric, lived-in moods— although their references are forgotten museums, vacant parks, grimy train stations and empty streets, as opposed to dank dive bars and seedy clubs. With their origin story and bristly, post-punk sound, the band inevitably carry comparisons to NYC royalty such as Interpol, the Walkmen, and the Strokes, but Slocum’s loquacious, rangy delivery hews more closely to Elias Bender Rønnenfelt of Danish rockers Iceage, and the group’s maximalist approach evokes the great Austin act …And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead.” 

#7 Christopher OwensI Wanna Run Barefoot Through Your Hair: From the Broken Dreams Club archive: Owens first solo album in nine years is the gorgeously emotive “I Wanna Run Barefoot Through Your Hair.”  A stunning achievement, the new collection of songs draw upon all the candor and self-reflection that made Girls so great, while also charting an intriguing new path forward for Owens.

#6 Wild Pink—Dulling the Horns: Few artists have been more consistently captivating than Wild Pink’s John Ross. Starting in earnest with 2018’s gorgeous “Yolk in the Fur,” Ross’ recent run of albums has never felt out of step, and in “Dulling the Horns,” the Wild Pink team once again puts forth a poignant and compelling compendium of heartland rock. Sharing M.J. Lenderman’s love for 90s sports arcana, Ross manages to find existential angst in very curious places. The most muscular Wild Pink album yet (“Cloud or Mountain” and “Disintegrate” both feel IMMENSE), the album is still anchored by Ross’ cooing vocals—gentle placation in a storm of big sounds. 

#5 MJ Lenderman – Manning Fireworks: This is an album for everyone who has a houseboat at the Himbo Dome, rents a Ferrari and thinks they can do a better job than the Pope. Essentially, every sad sack and deadbeat dude who has just a little bit of redemption in them. Somehow, MJ Lenderman—at the precocious age of 25—is able to eloquently capture the pain and pathos of these lovable midlife losers. Coming off his 2022 masterpiece, “Boat Songs,” Lenderman somehow elevates his formula of laconic indie rock nuggets again on “Manning Fireworks.” It’s a perfect combination of Jason Molina, Drive By Truckers and Archers of Loaf— all amplified by Lenderman’s trademark heart and greasy grit.

#4 WaxahatcheeTigers Blood: It wasn’t too long that Katie Crutchfield was rightly being feted as indie rock’s next best thing. Albums like “Cerulean Salt” showcased her peerless ability to match disarming words with crunchy guitar sounds. But she’s clearly found her footing embracing the Americana flavor of her Southern roots. A companion piece to her 2020 standout “Saint Cloud,” “Tiger’s Blood” builds upon the Southern Gothic mythos established by the record. Always a perennially gifted lyricist, Crutchfield outdoes herself on her latest album, deftly matching feelings of aimlessness with the rangy, vast settings of rural America on tracks like “Lone Star Lake” and the title track. And then there is her tour-de-force duet with MJ Lenderman, “Right Back To It,” a swampy, drawling testament to the twin natures of relationships—doubt and acceptance.

#3 This is LoreleiBox for Buddy, Box For Star: Nate Amos is on one here. The brilliant multi-instrumentalist has shown his talents in the past as 1/2 of the delightfully offbeat art rock group Water From Your Eyes, but the latest effort from his solo moniker showcases new facets of his outrageous range. A dizzying range of genres are explored here, from beers-in-your-teary country waltzes (“Angel’s Eye”) to Elliott Smith-indebted ballads (“Two Legs”) to slacker rock anthems (“I’m All Fucked Up”) to glittery synth pop bangers (“Dancing in the Club.”) At the center is the towering breakup elegy, “Where’s Your Love Now,” a Beach Boys-meets-Magnetic Fields masterpiece that is the finest song of 2024.

#2 FrikoWhere We’ve Been, Where We Go Far From Here: From the Broken Dreams Club archive: “On the Chicago indie rock band’s glorious debut album, this year’s “Where We've Been, Where We Go from Here,” it’s impossible to get comfortable. Austere piano ballads are followed by breakneck post-punk thrashers. Kitchen-sink indie rock anthems sit side-by-side with humble guitar numbers and multi-suite baroque chamber pop epics give way to crashing, blown-out shoegaze pieces. It's a truly dizzying display of the band’s talents—one that shows an endlessly inventive approach to sonic structures while tracing a lyrical narrative that grapples with regret, memory and the ephemeral nature of passing time. Each song feels singular, yet part of a bold, cohesive  mission statement.”

#1 Cindy LeeDiamond Jubilee: This is what it sounds like to capture the ghosts of 60s girl groups—a séance of the Crystals and the Supremes, refracted through the scratchy connection of a worn out FM radio tuner. These are songs to be heard from another room, a distant past—an entire lifetime ago. No record in the past decade has more unequivocally created a specific sense of atmosphere than this titanic triple album from the former lead singer of post-punk titans Women. Cindy Lee, the project of Patrick Flegel, incorporates elements of glam rock, power pop, doo-wop and indie, but all processed through an ethereal, phantasmic filter. There is an overwhelming sense of nostalgia on this album—but the cavernous, polar feel that accompanies each track makes that yearning feel all the more desperate and austere. Originally released solely through YouTube and a hilariously low tech GeoCities site, “Diamond Jubilee” plays out like a movie—a continuously cinematic and sweeping epic. Songs blend into another, bleeding from wounds pierced by Flegel’s masterful guitar playing and left weeping by their mournful wails. This is an album like no other—an alien, enlivening and thrilling testimony that proves music can still be an undefinable and glorious mystery.

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Alicia Vanden Heuvel: A Bedrock of the Local Music Community

Few community ecosystems are as combustible and volatile as the ones surrounding local musicians.

Even during the best of times, before artistic endeavors had been commodified and marginalized by ravenous market forces, eking out a viable living as a full-time musician was a perilous act—an existence seemingly always threatened by an unscrupulous landlord or one unexpected illness. Cities that acted as magnets for creative types also inherently drew in other outside interests—ones with deeper pockets and different ideas for urban living—leading to ever-increasing rents and gentrification.

San Francisco has long been viewed as a test case for such conditions, yet despite the ever-changing nature of the city, it has continued to host engaging and vibrant musical scenes throughout its history (it’s really not even worth entertaining the tired, hackneyed statements arguing the opposite.)

To sustain something so powerful, yet also fragile, requires a communal spirit. These groupings do not survive on happenstance. They require dedicated, selfless and passionate advocates—people like Alicia Vanden Heuvel.

A lifelong musician who’s played starring and supporting roles in countless bands, Vanden Heuvel is also a producer, engineer and label owner—the rare someone who can provide insight about both esoteric recording techniques and the byzantine nature of the music business.

Since 2022, she has been managing Speakeasy Studios SF, a record label that caters to local artists. It bears the same name as the recording studio that she’s operated since 1996 (with a few breaks here and there.) The recording studio is donation-based for the musicians who work with Vanden Heuvel.

“I try to be very intentional with my work—I really admire the idea of being of service to others,” said Vanden Heuvel. “It’s a very challenging time right now, and I’m just trying to foster some sense of hope by helping out other musicians. I want to be able to help—to make things just a little bit better and easier for my community.”

Running a label and recording studio seems like the logical next step for Vanden Heuvel, who’s been involved in music for nearly her entire life. Growing up in the small town of Desert Hot Springs near the Mojave Desert, Vanden Heuvel was raised by a musical family. By the time she was in high school, she was eager to share her considerable keyboard skills with the nearby bands, but since many of them were of the stoner metal vein (think Kyuss), she didn’t quite match their needs. 

In 1992, she enrolled at UC-Santa Cruz, and quickly found a more like-minded group of compatriots, which included Becky Barron and Stephen Vesecky. Together, they formed Poundsign, a wistful, dreamily lo-fi pop group. That outfit attracted a dedicated cult following, and helped set the template for so much of the sound that Vanden Heuvel would explore in the future. Employing skills that she was honing at the time as part of her film school studies, Vanden Heuvel took on production responsibilities for the band—her first foray into the kind of studio roles that would be her trademark. Poundsign also afforded Vanden Heuvel a precocious insight into what dynamics are necessary to make a band work. 

“I feel like what I really studied in college was how to be in a band,” said Vanden Heuvel. “One year we toured the States in Stephen’s Volvo and the next year we went in my Ford Escort. We would map out our tour based on wherever we were playing on college radio stations. We ended up playing with a lot of punk bands at that time, which was interesting, since we were a pop group. But it was an incredible experience to be doing that at such a young age.”

After graduating from college, Vanden Heuvel moved to San Francisco and linked up with AV Linton, a talented songwriter then playing in the noise group Henry’s Dress. With that act winding down, Linton suggested forming a new band with Vanden Heuvel, a group that eventually became The Aislers Set. 

Celebrated by luminaries such as British DJ John Peel, The Aislers Set acted as a staple of the legendary Oakland label Slumberland Records and evolved into a massively influential band. The group’s janglepop sound—shaped in large part by Linton and Vanden Heuvel’s’s production skills and multi-instrumental talents—still looms large in the San Francisco scene, with bands such as the Umbrellas and Chime School citing them as influences. 

With The Aislers Set going on hiatus in 2003, Vanden Heuvel continued to play in an array of different San Francisco bands (Dirty Ghosts, Brigid Dawson & the Mothers Network, and Magic Trick, to name a few) acting as a bedrock of an ever-evolving and shifting music community. She also opened the doors of her self-made studio located in the basement of her (rent-controlled) apartment, providing an oasis for bands looking for affordable technical insight and support. 

“I never wanted to charge anyone to use my studio,” said Vanden Heuvel, who mentioned that donations are always welcome, as they help with studio upkeep of the analog equipment. “I view this as an extension of my artwork. We usually have a conversation beforehand about how this is an artistic collaboration. It’s the same thing as painting a mural together.”

Over the years, Vanden Heuvel has lent her professional production skills to countless Bay Area artists, including Dawn Riding, Anna Hillburg, Yea-Ming and the Rumors, Andres Miguel Cervantes, The Telephone Numbers, Ryan Wong and Josiah Flores.

Since expanding those efforts to include the Speakeasy record label, Vanden Heuvel has moved beyond providing technical recording wizardry to receptive local artists. A bespoke operation, Speakeasy is a band-focused label that provides much needed one-on-one support for its roster, which includes many of the aforementioned names, in addition to acts like Jacob Aranda, the Lost Days and revered Bay Area pop master, Tony Molina, who is also Vanden Heuvell’s husband. 

As an industry veteran, Vanden Heuvel also educates her clients on complex business intricacies, urging them all to own their master recordings and to be aware of the various royalty groups they need to belong to in order to collect song payments. She’s also just a huge fan of music, and that dedication is not lost among her collaborators.

“Alicia's been a supporter of Galore since the beginning—just her presence in the front row singing along to our songs would be enough to encourage the hell out of us, because we're such a fan of her and her music,”  Ava Sayaka Rosen, guitarist and vocalist of local indie rock band Galore, who are set to release an album through Speakeasy next year. “To be able to work with her now on putting out a record is a revelation because of the way she guides us with full transparency and a true sense of care and collaboration through the process. She even demystified the 5 different royalty buckets using condiment bottles and saltshakers”

Ainsley Wagoner, who also plays in Galore in addition to recording solo work under the moniker of Silverware, offered similar sentiments.

“DIY music is such a grind, and those who have been at it for decades (like Alicia) can understandably get worn down,” said Wagoner. “But somehow, Alicia is incredibly positive and generous - alchemizing all her experience as a player, songwriter, engineer, and producer into supporting other people's projects whether it's as a band member, record label owner, fan, or mentor. She's the real deal, and there are very few who carry themselves with as much integrity, warmth, and love as she does.”

Despite all the joy it offers, music can be a slog for those who inhabit its professional universe, particularly in San Francisco. Fortunately, practitioners like Vanden Heuvel are around to help ease those burdens and ensure that everyone gets to revel in the wonders of the artform.

“I have been living here since the 90s and I have witnessed so many changes,” said Vanden Heuvel. “It’s important to recognize that it’s not easy to live here. I try to be as active as I can be to help people succeed in this city that I love. I don’t have all the answers, but I try to help where I can. And I still have so much hope for this place.”

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Dave Benton of Trace Mountains Coming to Thee Parkside on December 7

Photo Credit: Sam Soard

Dave Benton has never shied away from summoning up his indie rock forebears.

As one of the primary songwriters for revered cult rock group LVL UP, Benton famously penned the couplet, “’I feel insane when you get in my bed’/Is something sweet that the Silver Jews said,” for the opening line of “I Feel Extra Natural,” one of the band’s most beloved songs. Along with acknowledging the obvious (that line is sweet), it was also a playful way of paying homage to the legends that helped shape the shaggy and accessible energy of the band.

A decade later and now recording under the moniker Trace Mountains, Benton still seeks the guidance and direction of his DIY predecessors. On “Won’t Go Home,” the defiant, mordant closing track on his outstanding 2024 album, “Into the Burning Blue,” Benton wails about his formative memories, blaring out “Like a curious kid/burning ants on the pavement/making out in the basement/when you first heard the Replacements/’Bastards of Young’ and ‘Androgynous’ helped you make it.” 

The stanza acts almost as a righteous motivational call to action—an inspirational marker aimed directly at his own heart and brain. 

“I had this real angsty teenager thing going on at the time I was writing that song,” said Benton. “I was back living at home and just feeling very moody at the time, not being nice to my parents. It was just like being a kid again, and so those memories of the Replacements just came flooding back to me. I was kind of talking to my old self there.”

The reason for Benton’s adolescent angst (and for his unexpected move back to his parents' New Jersey home) was the recent end of his eight-year relationship with his girlfriend. “Into the Burning Blue” candidly chronicles the dissolution of that relationship, pairing that painful breakup with the larger existential challenges adults in their 30s face as they struggle to navigate  inhospitable economic, social and political environments. 

On December 7, he’ll perform selections from his stirring new album at Thee Parkside, with support from Vermont-based songwriter Lily Seabird. It will be Trace Mountains first headlining show in San Francisco.

Always a candid, erudite songwriter with LVL UP, Benton has peeled back even more layers on “Into the Burning Blue,” a confessional album brimming with emotional vulnerability, earnest introspection and alarming honesty. Benton crafted the album as he was going through the breakup in real time, so many songs he had already written took on new meaning—whether intentionally or through subconscious osmosis.

“At first, I would try to block out everything when I was writing songs,” said Benton. “I was rationalizing to myself that certain songs weren’t really about the relationship—it was almost like I didn’t want to know what they were really about. Ultimately—and I know this is kind of an overused statement—the process felt pretty cathartic. It felt really good to share the demos with my friends. The songs expressed things I maybe wasn’t quite capable of saying in a conversation.”

On the new album, Benton matches those deeply personal sentiments with a distinct sonic aesthetic. Drawing inspiration from mid-era Bruce Springsteen, in particular his towering breakup album “Tunnel of Love,” Benton leaned into the shimmering synth sounds that defined that 80s. Many of the songs on “Into the Burning Blue” are backed by a thumping drum machine and are rich with atmospherics, evoking a profound, spectral quality. You can almost see Benton walking solitarily down the street at dusk with a light mist enveloping him, playing these songs forlornly in his head.

Gone and Done,” a mournful elegy marked by a wailing slide guitar spitting through keyboards, is filled with the typical questions one faces in the wake of a breakup—“Where should I go/Yeah, I don’t even know.” On the sparse, austere “Cry Cry Cry,” Benton’s voice cracks and splinters, as he tries to assure himself that he’ll be fine over the tinkling of an acoustic guitar. Album highlight “Ponies” takes a different tack, as Benton processes his emotions through the gleaming shine of bright synths and shimmering electronica. 

While there is no doubt that “Into the Burning Blue” chronicles a relationship in its dissolution, the album also tackles larger, more universal issues. Like any empathetic, caring citizen of the world, Benton struggles to come to terms with a society that can be so cruel and callous. A lifelong musician—LVL UP formed when he was in college—he’s also been forced to deal with the economic uncertainties that unfortunately come hand-in-hand with artists whose craft has been commodified and marginalized by capitalistic forces. 

Those larger inquiries of identity and acceptance are tackled on the album’s titanic opening track, “In a Dream,” a motorikking, propulsive road-trip anthem. A catalog of observations collected during his various excursions across the country, the song is a sociological treatise—an endearing, heartfelt examination of how a country so fractured and hurt can possibly survive. 

In many ways, Benton’s own life is a riposte to those daunting visions. After enduring the heartbreak of breakup, Benton is now happily in a new relationship. When not out touring (he’ll be opening for jagged folk-rock superstar MJ Lenderman during a UK jaunt this spring), Benton splits his time between his partner’s place in Dallas and his home in New Jersey. He’s hoping for more solidity in the future, but his ability to move onward and upward bodes well for anyone dealing with the doldrums of personal and political depression.

“I’m still trying to figure out a lot of things—like I need to get an apartment and all that life stuff,” said Benton. “It’s a struggle out there for sure, being a musician. But even with all that going on, I still get to work with so many awesome people, who care about helping me make my music. And I still have so much fucking fun at my shows. There is nothing quite like that experience.”

A new year coming, a new relationship and a new album in tow. The future may still be in the offing for Benton, but he’s providing ample evidence that the burning blues don’t last forever.

Show Details:
Trace Mountains with Lily Seabird and Poppy Patica
Where: Thee Parkside
When: 8 p.m., Saturday, December 7
Tickets: $15, available here.

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