there are no page numbers and there is no table of contents.
madi fang
JB: Hi – or, kia ora [traditional Māori greeting]. Is that right?
ES: Kia ora, yeah! That’s correct.
JB: [Laughs] I was afraid I’d butcher that, I’m glad I didn’t. So first I wanted to start by talking little bit about your home country, and what the music scene is like there. Obviously, just being so disconnected from the rest of the world, there are probably a lot of negatives to being a musician from New Zealand, but what are some of the perks of being in this little bubble?
ES: There are heaps of perks. The isolation is tricky, but I feel like the isolation also works in our favor in a weird way. Even within the states, I’m assuming there are music scenes that are far enough away from everything else that I feel like you have your own kind of thing going on. But the internet exists, so it’s easy enough to hear what’s going on in other places and to make connections. But New Zealand’s a great place to make music; it’s kind of small but, like, big – Auckland is a city of nearly 2 million people, but New Zealand as a whole is only 5 million people. The music scene across the country is small enough – there’s a saying that there are never more than two degrees of sep-
aration between you and any other person. It’s like a small town, but a country.
JB: Moving on to your music: when people bring up your music, or when I see people talking about it online, people often label you as “power pop.” One that I heard recently is “bubblegrunge,” I don’t know if you’ve heard that before. Do you ascribe yourself to any of these genres, or do you see yourselves as a separate thing entirely? Do you think you need to be labeled in any way?
ES: I see the use of labels, I get it. I think they’re fine; I think I see the music that people make – not just us, but any band that you like – I feel like it’s a series of Venn diagrams, even song by song. I feel like it’s fun to make those connections in your brain, and the connections usually come from things that you like; if you’re someone who’s super into 70s power pop, and you like The Beths, and you’re like “oh, it sounds like 70s power pop,” it’s probably not because you hate 70’s power pop. You like something, and you hear something that you like, and you’re just trying to make that connection to something that you enjoy, and that brings you happiness.
JB: Adding on to what you just said – who do you see as your main influences, from both older music and contemporary artists?
ES: This is a funny one – I feel like no one wants to answer it properly because it feels like plagiarism if it’s too obvious [laughs]. I really like songwriters, if that makes sense, I really like Cole Porter and that type of Tinpan Alley songwriting, where it’s like: the name of the song is also the hook of the song, and it’s also the last line of the chorus. When we first started the band, we were going for a Weezer kind-of thing, but I also grew up on a lot of emo; I really like bands like Death Cab [for Cutie] and Rilo Kiley that are really lyric-driven. And in later stages, someone like Courtney Barnett has been really inspiring. She’s not from New Zealand, she’s from Australia, but I feel like she kind of helped us –helped me – to get over the “cultural cringe” that a lot of New Zealanders have, and it was honestly just her being blatantly herself and making great music. I’m a big Alvvays fan.
JB: And you just played with [Alvvays] the other day, no?
ES: Yeah, that was kind of like my dream gig [laughs]. I felt like I was kind of in a daze the whole day. It was great.
JB: You were a music teacher, yeah?
ES: Yeah, for a day job I taught trumpet at a high school.
JB: Was there overlap between that job and The Beths?
ES: It was during, yeah. Once I finished studying – I studied music – there’s a program in New Zealand where if you go to a public school, you can sign up for music lessons, and they happen during class time so you go out of class for half an hour once a week, and you have a lesson with a small group or even a private lesson, and it’s fully funded. That’s how I started learning guitar and learning trumpet.
JB: Was it weird when you had Rolling Stone name your song the “song of the summer,” and then going in to teach students? Would you have students be like “oh my god,” or was it like two separate worlds?
ES: It was pretty separate. It was the start of 2018 when I quit my job and we started international touring. We were like, “we’ll just do one tour, we’ll spend all our savings and it’ll be fun, and we have this album, so we’ll give it a good go, and then we’ll come home and I’ll try and get some more teaching work,” but it ended up being a hard cut, and we just kept on going.
JB: Thankfully! Something that I think is so immediately obvious – and something that always amazes me whenever I listen to your music – is just how adept you are at writing hooks and catchy choruses that just stick in your head. When you’re sitting down to write a song, do those hooks come first and you build the song around them, or is it more of a natural process?
ES: It’s kind of different every time. But I feel like it doesn’t feel like a song until there’s a hook. The hook is the heart of the song; going back to that Tinpan Alley songwriting, if the song has a soul, it’s so nice and satisfying if you can sum it up in a really beautiful way, and a succinct way – which I can’t always do. But it’s important to find that part of the song, it’s something that I’m always searching for.
JB: Another thing about your music that I notice is that so many of your songs have a big, memorable moment. My favorite song of yours is Not Running, and there’s that great moment at the end where the male vocals come in, and you do the “oohs” up top. Moments like that, or other moments like when the tempo slows down on Whatever. Are those ideas that come like “ooh, we should incorporate this into a song,” or do you find those moments later in the process?
ES: There are tricks, right? We love those tricks – you get to the last chorus, drop out for a little bit, and then you come back in on beat 2. I really love that stuff, it’s the language of pop music that’s been around for such a long time in terms of making arrangements. Usually when I write a song, I’ll write the verses and the choruses and only sometimes will I write the bridge right then, mostly I’ll take it to the band and figure out from there where the song can go, and whether it’s going to reach a cathartic high point. Which I do enjoy.
JB: I relistened to [your 2020 album] Jump Rope Gazers earlier today – which I love – and it really struck me how on your first album, Future Me Hates Me, is so focused on really catchy and punchy hooks, whereas Jump Rope Gazers moves into a slower and subtle mood. Do you see that as reaching for two separate goals with your music, or do you see it more as a progression?
ES: I don’t know, to me it doesn’t really feel like a progression. [She makes a square with her hand] If this is Future Me Hates Me, then Jump Rope Gazers is a slightly bigger square. I feel like there is a lot on Jump Rope Gazers that is that same vibe of fast, uptempo, and trying to be hook-y, but since there are some songs that aren’t it feels like a huge change. But for us, it just didn’t feel like that big of a change.
JB: You have a new album coming, Expert in a Dying Field. Three singles have been released so far – I’ve loved all of them. That to me almost seems like you’re taking from all your eras. The first single you released, Silence Is Golden has an energy to it that I haven’t heard since Idea/Intent off of your first EP, whereas the title track felt like something from Jump Rope Gazers. What were the main inspirations behind the new record, both musically and lyrically?
ES: It feels like the same band that made that EP and those two albums, just a slightly larger square again. We feel really comfortable in our skin as a band with what The Beths sounds like. Singles are weird because it’s not like “pick your favorite songs from the record,” it’s like “pick 3 songs to come out before the album that fits for radio and might fit playlists well.” It’s tricky, to choose them, but the ones we chose were 3 different versions of our banger-est songs. But there’s more!
JB: I’m excited to hear it! You released your third single, Knees Deep, just two days ago, and with it came a music video in which you did a bungee jump. How
did that come about, and how was that experience?
ES: We had an entirely different video with a different director planned, but it kept getting pushed back because he was isolating because his partner had COVID, and finally we made a plan for Monday. Then on Saturday morning, he tested positive for COVID and we were like “okay, never mind.” So we had to get a new video and a new director in one day. Callum Devlin and Annabel Kean, who are so busy – we’ve worked with them a lot – and we were like, “I know you’re so busy. Can you help us? I have this idea - what if we all just went bungee jumping?” And they were like “okay, we’ll just make the video.” So we organized it and we came up with a silly concept, and we shot it all in a day, and we left two days later for this tour. And they did a great job, and it was terrifying [laughs].
JB: Not something I’d do [laughs]. Is there anything else you’re really excited for about the release? Any song you’re excited to see people’s reactions for or songs you’re excited to play live that you haven’t yet?
ES: I think it’s a good album. I’m looking forward to it being out. Releasing singles is so strange when you make something and you put these things out without any context. It’s nice to have the whole out, and I feel like that’s when the life of that music properly starts. There’s a song called Your Side that I have a real soft spot for. It’s a sweet one.
JB: Finally, what’s your favorite song to perform live? Or what song gets people the most hyped up, or one that means a lot to you?
ES: It varies, even place by place. Some songs just go off. Little Death is always fun because it’s such a journey that by the end of the song it feels like you’re rolling down a hill and you cannot stop. If something goes wrong, it will be a disaster. But it always seems to land in the end. And we’ve been playing Knees Deep, which is the song that came out just two days ago, and that’s really fun because it’s really high for me, it’s hard for me to sing. I’m not really like a “real singer,” and every album I feel like I write stuff that is harder for me to sing, so I have to get better, but I’m still right on the limits, so if I can finish that one I usually feel very relieved.
Tenderness is touch
firelight
soft-spoken praise kitten’s fur my library and the attic’s hush my skin
under a wool blanket light smoke light and smoke the smell of cinnamon whispered admissions open-hearted, open-eared–not listening, but hearing
Epitaph
I cry for pink hair and a mirror-bent form–so I clicked off my own face whose sunken eyes trace her underlined corners where little paws curl and a rainbow box catches her voice–so paintbrush out my hair with the same colors you used to draw my face under invisible eyesight for friday night laughter–so put the bottle back in your sock beside your colored pencils collecting dust in that dark, gray room missing its swirls and letters crisscrossing the sunsetting ceiling, I sink into its folded corners
Everett Davis
talking with
Carsen Codel
Dr. Iler
Argumentation 312
Fatherhood in a Municipality: Real Estate’s Days and a Conception of “Dad Music”
The smell of Pillsbury cinnamon rolls wafting up the stairs and the muted hum of the subwoofers through my bedroom floor gently pull my eyes open on a beautifully autumnal Saturday morning. I meander down to the kitchen to meet a plate set out on the table by my father, who is washing the dishes and nodding quietly to the music on the stereo. Grateful Dead and Steely Dan CDs are on shuffle, the psychedelic guitars of Jerry Garcia and company, and the tight, jazz-adjacent arrangements of Aja filling the room. It’s a quintessential morning, the perfect Dad breakfast paired with the standard music in my household when my father is in control of the playlist.
Now that I’m in college, I don’t have those Saturday mornings, nor the various CDs and vinyl records my dad put on after I come back from sports practices. But the music has stayed with me. Whether the Grateful Dead, Steely Dan, Electric Light Orchestra, the Beatles, Chicago, or the Pernice Brothers, certain artists have situated themselves in my listening habits, and something about them seems to stand out as separate or distinguishing from many of the other artists I listen to. When I’m on aux at a party or a gathering of friends, and an artist of that liking comes on, one that my dad would play, some of my friends nod in approval and say something like, “nice Dad Music.” I chuckle and thank them, telling them I indeed found the song thanks to my father.
As my musical tastes and Apple Music library grow, I find that I am pulled to certain artists that share a liking towards the music of my dad. But what is it about these artists and the music they make that potentially qualifies as “Dad Music?” In 2009, a new indie rock band, Real Estate, cropped up onto the music scene. Their breezy, languid, and reverb-rich music fits well within the indie rock genre, but I’ll use their sophomore album, Days, released in 2011, to define Dad Music and demonstrate how the band can also be qualified into that subgenre.
In order to qualify as Dad Music, the work must contain at least one guitarist – though bands will often have one lead guitar and one rhythm guitar – a bassist, and a drummer. Vocals are quite common, but certain jam bands that
fit into the Dad Music subgenre may not have any singers or feature vocalists in a prominent manner. Auxiliary instruments like keys, woodwinds, brass, or strings may be present but are not required. Real Estate’s Days meets these requirements. With Martin Courtney on rhythm guitar and vocals, Alex Beeker on bass guitar, Matthew Mondanile on lead guitar, and Jackson Pollis on drums, Real Estate’s lineup for the LP passes the instrumentation qualifications for Dad Music (Real Estate).
But instrumentation is not enough. Many groups across all genres have this composition of players on their roster, while not qualifying as Dad Music. Math rock groups like American Football or pop rock bands like Imagine Dragons have similar lineups, yet something distinguishes them as separate genres.
Perhaps there is something in the composition of the music that makes an album Dad Music. Many of the tracks on Days operate within familiar song structures of popular music, with triads (more simple chords) and a few seventh chords (more complicated chords that may sound jazzy or complex to the untrained ear) comprising most of the choices for songs. Progressions move in predictable ways within the confines of Western popular music. For example, the song “Municipality” sticks around on an A Major chord for most of the song, with the rhythm guitar part doing a walkdown line, a common feature in popular music (Real Estate). The chorus alternates between A Major, F sharp minor, B dominant 7, and D Major 71. As a music student, I can assert that Real Estate isn’t breaking any new ground here in their chord choices, aligning the quality of the composition with much of the rock paradigm. In terms of vocals, Martin’s melodies follow the instrumentation predictably and sound proper for indie rock music. Actual composition, then, doesn’t distinguish Days from other forms of rock to put it into the category of Dad Music. On top of that, Dad Music can range from a simple, single-chord song to the complex jazz construction of the music of Steely Dan. So, while certainly necessary that the music fits somewhere into the world of Western popular music, composition alone isn’t sufficient to qualify Days as Dad Music.
Musical content contributes partially to defining Dad Music. But, given the subgenre’s name, identifying who listens to Dad Music, and why, also plays an important role in creating its definition. The audience component for Dad Music is two-pronged. Not only does most Dad Music often have fathers
1. You don’t need to understand what any of these chord names mean. Just know that from Bach to Mozart to the Beatles to Harry Styles, everybody in the Western music paradigm uses them, sometimes even in this very order.
as a non-neglible component of their audience2 (or those around that age, I would say anywhere between those in their 30s-70s), but there needs to be someone on the receiving end in order for those listeners to be described as fathers. After all, when my Dad was following the Grateful Dead on tour during his collegiate years, he wasn’t a father, and he wouldn’t have referred to the Dead as Dad Music then – it was just music. However, now that I, as his son, observe him listening to the Grateful Dead, I begin associating that music with my dad, and with fathers more generally. What was “cool” music at the time, or popular among the demographic that now represents white, generally suburban fathers, has now become something they use to identify with their past, their sense of self, or just with their general music tastes. Dad Music becomes a sort of aesthetic component or an aspect of one’s identity. A work of Dad Music, then, must have some major component of it that aligns with the identity of fatherhood in some way, as well connect somehow to the possibility of a relationship or transference between father and child. In my own life, that transference occurred through my dad playing music on weekend mornings or during family game night, making a mix CD for a road trip, or loading up my brand-new iPod shuffle in 5th grade with songs by the Beatles, Jack Johnson, and Pete Townshend. My dad shared his favorite music with me and my brother, tying in stories of when he heard a certain group in concert, or what he was doing in college when he first heard a specific song. A deeper relationship with my father was then built around our collective conception of the music of his earlier years and the events that are tied around it – collegiate tomfoolery for him; golden, sunny picnics and contentious games of Settlers of Catan for me.
Real Estate’s Days doesn’t seem to fit into this scheme at first. After all, Days was released in 2011 and, while no demographics are readily available, I would surmise that their listeners are spread across age groups; I know many people my age who listen to Real Estate, and a few my father’s age that do as well (including my own Dad, who found the band before I did). Overall, then, one’s discovery of Real Estate isn’t necessarily predisposed to be vis-à-vis a fatherto-child transmission, compared to music that was released further in the past.
However, when looking into the lyricism, themes, overall mood, or even just the album cover of Days, one sees Courtney and his bandmates begin to
2. And, I should add, we’re mostly talking white, mostly middle to upper-middle class and working fathers. At least, this is the conception I have in mind.
Album cover for Days (Real Estate)
construct a world full of the tangled relationships between post-collegiate life, suburbia, nostalgia, and fatherhood. On the opening track, “Easy,” Courtney sings surrounded by a deceptively upbeat haze of guitars, “Around the fields we’d run, with love for everyone, dreams we saw with eyes open, until that dream was done” (Real Estate). From the first moments of the album, there’s a careful play between the buoyant rhythms of the band and the melancholy theme of the lyrics. Courtney’s story here feels akin to the ache that blossoms in my chest when I think back on my favorite autumn days in high school, running through the woods and the backyards of suburban Iowa, oblivious to the pressures of adult life. These themes crop up again throughout the album as Courtney reflects on his life in the past and ponders his future life, perhaps of marrying and starting a family, of which Courtney did right as the tour for Days wrapped up (Deville). In “Green Aisles,” Courtney sings to someone, reminding them of “aimless drives through green aisles,” a reference to an endless sprawl of suburban streets (Real Estate). He yearns, perhaps a bit earnestly, to go back to those days, “Our careless lifestyle, it was not so unwise, no,” (Real Estate). As one is confronted with a post-collegiate world and the responsibilities it holds, who wouldn’t occasionally reminisce in this way?
It is in “Municipality,” though, that the band’s vision is the most telling. The title of the song itself speaks of a level of adult domesticity that a word like “town,” “city,” or “neighborhood” just wouldn’t own up to. Of all the songs on the album, it’s perhaps the most forward looking, letting us peer into how Courtney views his upcoming future as he copes with a breakup:
Driving past hotels
In the night
Your words don’t sit well
How can I feel free?
When all I want to be
Is by your side in that municipality
Up in that farmland
Past the houses and gardens
Dozens of shade trees
Are waiting there for me
That’s not anything like my reality
To be by your side in that municipality
That’s not anything like my reality (Real Estate)
The narrator in “Municipality,” has an ideal future in their mind, one of being with somebody in a suburban municipality, depicted by the imagery of shade trees, houses, hotels, and farmland. However, a breakup prevents them from realizing the reality they’ve been conceptualizing in their head for so long. It’s Courtney’s way of sharing with the listener his desires to settle down, to make a new home in a place not too dissimilar from one you just can’t shake from your memories. As in “Municipality” and throughout the whole album, the themes in Days reflect a conception of incoming fatherhood that is pensive, reflective, and yearning, but that also emphasizes security and a sense of home. It’s one that many heading into the world of fatherhood might experience, or those that are fathers looking back on that liminal period between finishing school and starting a life for oneself could reflect upon. As someone who is still in college myself, but already thinking about such subjects as I contemplate my future, it is relieving to hear my thoughts echoed in Courtney’s gentle voice.
By strolling through the suburban streets of Real Estate’s Days and comparing its components to my conception of Dad Music, one can start to see how it fits into the Dad Music subgenre, despite its more recent release. The band’s lineup consists of two guitarists, a bassist, and a drummer, along with one of the guitarists on vocals. The musical content of the songs, by way of chords and melodies alike, fits in well with the Western music and rock paradigms. The audience consists of adults as well as adolescents, though its relation to fatherhood stems more from its lyrical and thematic content as opposed to the environment of listeners around the music. And the album’s pensive and nostalgic elements, showcased both musically and lyrically, depict a young man contemplating the potentialities of fatherhood along with their earlier years, allowing for a listener, father or child, to engage deeply with its themes.
This past weekend I was invited to play at the “JamBCue,” a neighborhood barbecue and band jam party put on by my friend Spencer’s neighbor at his house out in a suburb of St. Louis. Spencer and I both write our own music, and he and I, along with two of his band members, put together a setlist of some of our originals, as well as a cover of “Municipality.” Spencer picked me up on a beautiful Saturday afternoon that teetered on the edge between crisp and warm, and we got the other band members as we drove out into the winding streets filled with golden leaves and Halloween decorations.
Upon arriving at the JamBCue, we headed into the backyard, where we were greeted by the host and his fellow Dad friends, along with a full set of amps, drums, keyboards, and microphones that spilled out of the garage. We did a brief soundcheck with help from the dads, and soon played our set, the opening act for the day. Our original music is pretty indie and jazz adjacent, and while fun to perform, it wasn’t until we closed with “Municipality” that I really felt in the right groove.
After we packed up our instruments, the next band, a group of dads called “Kelly’s Heroes,” (I believe half of the people in the band were named Kelly, either first or last name, I don’t quite remember) took the stand and opened with a Grateful Dead song, followed by a few 70s rock tunes. As people trickled in and the barbecue buffet was set out, I sat back and let the music soak in. It just felt so right, in the same way that “Municipality” did during our set. Maybe Dad Music is the type of music that feels proper for a Dad Band to play at a
local family barbecue out in the suburbs.
As we listened, one of the dads from another band came up to us, a flannel on his back and a can of Busch Light in his hand. He smiled at us, looking towards the bandstand.
“Like it or not, this is probably gonna be you in 20 years,” he said with a chuckle. I wasn’t opposed to the idea.
As I think back to those Saturday mornings at home with my Dad, mornings of Steely Dan and cinnamon rolls, the music always comes to mind. As I sat at the JamBCue, the same feeling washed over me, a feeling of home, of place and purpose. As I think of my future and the possibility of one day starting my own family, I hope music will play the same role, and I’m sure Real Estate’s Days will be a part of that. Perhaps I’ll be in my own Dad band one day, playing Real Estate covers out of a garage, a beer resting on the guitar amp and a canopy of autumn leaves hanging high over my head.
Dad Music is, most of all, a potential aspect of one’s personal conception of what it means to be a father. What was cool or hip music back in the day is now something that one associates with barbecues and beer, with the suburbs and starting a family, with fatherhood as a whole. Sometimes the music is amazing and still holds up. Sometimes it’s a bit cheesy and dated. But it all reminds me of home, of family, of the connection I’ve built with my dad through music. And, in the case of Real Estate’s Days, it points towards a future home, waiting for me, in that municipality.
Deville, C. (2014, March 4). Q&A: Martin Courtney on marital contentment, guitar tabs, and Real Estate’s signature sound. Stereogum. Retrieved October 20, 2022, from https://www.stereogum.com/1666854/qamartin-courtney-on-marital-contentment-guitar-tabs-and-real-estates-signature-sound/interviews/
Real Estate. (2011). Days. Kevin McMahon, Jarvis Taveniere. “Real estate (band).” Wikipedia. Last modified 7 March 2022. Retrieved November 1, 2022, from https:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Real_Estate_(band)
Works Cited
Ray’s biweekly rotation^
ray
’,
neatly tucked away in Soundcloud’s digital archives, there’s a gem (i.e. a hidden gem). Take for instance the legendary Illegal Ke$ha Mixtape 2016-2019 Please Do Not Tell The Fuckin
her head is soooo rolling!! love her, Leroy’s quintessential Dariacore anthem. But these are besides the you might even find some of my music on there), but within their leable and vulnerable; I found myself falling back to the
Your Life Flashes Before While Fetty Wap Trap Queen Plays.
brain starts flashing back deep into ur subconscious while
feat, take one last gasp of air, and exhale, exhaling into yearning or wistful longing for something one cannot explain or does
. It’s the best way I can describe my reaction to
-
more from phoebe radke
the ethereal, uncanny, but deeply emotional Your Life Flash es Before While Fetty Wap Trap Queen Plays. For me, Fet ty Wap, the Trap Queen, and so on are nostalgic; it makes sense that the mortal jump accompanied by something carnal and formative, something in dulgent. The song almost felt too real, filled with too much longing, too much regret for everything that’s been lost (or left behind, or sacrificed, or selfishly cast away, or for got, or misunderstood, or taken for granted); the song is deeply mortal, a reminder of everyone (everyone you’ve hurt, loved, hated, envied, feared, and acquiesced to); mortal, a reminder of everything you are (scared); mortal (a hidden gem)
At the end of Your Life Flashes Before While Fetty Wap Trap Queen Plays, Fetty Wap’s Trap Queen fades, and a deep, yet consoling, voice ushers you to the end. Mortal, (i.e The song reminds you of everything you have) (now) (trees, birds in the trees, sunlight in the window, birds in your ears, water on your nightstand, breeze through your screen, wind in the trees, quiet in your ears, sunlight on your wall, water chilled on your nightstand, sheets on your chest, blanket on your chest, cars on the street, matted hair on your pillow, dew on the grass, plant in the window sill, leaves falling from trees, stepping in the leaves, sitting in the shade, sitting in the sun, head in the grass, walking on the sidewalk, looking at the clouds, breeze in the grass, listening to the ground, ants in the grass, nighttime in the trees, wind on your face, cracks in the pavement, noise from the port, trees with no leaves, snow in your shoes, stepping in snow, warm at the fire, warm in the house, blankets on your legs, blankets on the couch, watch ing the stars, falling in snow, falling in leaves, falling in water, falling in bed, falling in love, being in love)
https://soundcloud.com/user-177606669/your-life-flashes-beforewhile-fetty-wap-trap-queen-plays
listen to these three local new releases!!!!!!!!
- Josh V, Carps in the Mud
- Faced Out, Faced Out
- Non-Euclidean Geometry, Into the Midnight and follow @kwur_local_sucks for local updates, including upcoming shows and new releases and check out bandcamp for recorded live stacks sessions
andrew martin approves this issue
instagram^
