articles
Silversun Pickups: The Uncarved Block
from volume 01 issue 10 // Michael Rabinowitz
Silversun Pickups
Interview with Brian Aubert
Words: Michael Rabinowitz
Photos: Courtesy of Ink Tank PR
A basic tenet of Taoism is P’u, the Uncarved Block. The essence of the Uncarved Block is that things in their natural simplicity possess their own inherent power that can be easily lost if that simplicity is altered. When a person removes arrogance, ego, and entitlement from their lives they will discover a state of childlike play that is the Uncarved Block. For Brian Aubert, lead singer of Silversun Pickups, an L.A. act experiencing the meteoritic rise of being the “it” band of the moment, living in a constant state of play and wonderment isn’t just a defense to the pitfalls of fame, such as performing on David Letterman or having their music video rotated on MTV. Being in a constant childlike state is the basis of how the band was formed.
Scoring a CMJ Festival spot from a boom box demo recorded on an apartment floor, the Silversun Pickups are the epitome of the Uncarved Block. Bassist Nikki Monninger picked up the axe with no experience with Brian kicking the drum kit to announce his intentions for a new chord progression.
Aubert recalls these early days with the same speed of a six year old reminiscing over his first visit to Disney World. He is living a dream in a bubble that is rapidly rising to the top. And when all you are is the Uncarved Block, these celebratory moments can cause you to question yourself. “We are as astounded as everyone else. Everyone is like, ‘Who the fuck is this band?’ We’re with you. I mean, who the fuck are we? We didn’t expect this kind of attention.”
This wide-eyed stupefaction scored SSPU an opening billing this past year with top national acts such as Wolfmother, The Shins, and The Raconteurs. “We’re so lucky. We’ve been touring and playing with really nice people that are great to be with.”
And what life altering principle has he learned from the experience? “I guess the only thing you really learn is . . . don’t be a dick.”
The Don’t-Be-A-Dick Rule being firmly trenched within Aubert’s core: “For some reason, by thinking you deserve it you are saying, ‘The audience owes me this.’ And, that’s bullshit. You should just feel lucky and happy that you’ve been able to make something that people respond to. In the same respect that you respond to it yourself.” Aubert then scolds an invisible rock star, “Take that chip off your shoulder!” (For some reason, I imagine Jared Leto as the scoldee.)
This lack of ego began when SSPU first formed. They were so into the frivolity of being a band they made the cardinal sin of band promoting 101: market yourselves. Of course, the LA hipster scene interpreted this to mean SSPU was intentionally exclusive. “We got pegged for being a band that was anti-commercial. At the same time, we are not from indie rock elitism, choosing your own fans and that kind of jazz. We just liked playing.” Mocking the kvetching of the scenesters back home, the singer adds, “Now, of course we sold out and you owe me 700.”
Humility aside, SSPU deserves the attention Aubert questions. This attention is the unexpected revitalization for a rock genus that many believed went extinct with the evolution of disciples Coldplay and Radiohead toward the larger, more cohesive sounds they are now famous for. Yet, despite its early demise, the age of shoegazer rock is still in its formative years.
One of the best records from the 1990’s (aside from Nirvana’s Nevermind) is widely considered My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless. Headed by Kevin Shields, the Valentines captured the beauty of feedback, the aural intoxication of swirling guitars, and the true delivery of Phil Spector’s vision of the “Wall of Sound.”
The result was the birth of shoegazer, founded on the psychedelic unfamiliarity of dreams though an avalanche of reverb saturated guitar chords. The sound was so adored by Chicago’s prodigal son, Billy Corgan, that he tapped Shields to produce the epic Siamese Dreams, cementing shoegazing as a profitable art form and not just a techno-geek’s wet dream.
Yet, like all revolutions, the fire required to build one eventually devours it. Corgan sought world domination while Shields unhealthily obsessed over expanding his innovation (with a little MDMA assist). But both gazed too long at their laces (and navels) to appreciate the raison d’etre of being in a rock band: To have fun. Another tenet SSPU adheres to.
“It is fun,” Aubert professes. “It’s fun to get this sad, dark shit out. It’s fun when people tell them the record changed them. It’s fun when you connect with these people.”
But Carnavas, SSPU’s first full-length album, is no Unformed Block. It is an intricate, well textured, deliberately hook-laden collection of driving space rock. From the opening hyperkinetic track, appropriately titled “Melatonin,” to the teenage angst of unrequited love in “Lazy Eye,” to the explosive circular dirge of “Common Reactor,” this is an LP that is so tightly construed it juxtaposes SSPU’s industry eye catching EP, Pikul. The former being more amorphous and spacious than the latter. It leads one to believe that producer Dave Cooley (Rolling Blackouts) attempted to carve his impressions onto the band when it came to studio time for Carnavas.
“We thought that would happen,” Aubert explains. “That is something that we now laugh about. The funny thing was, Dave ended up lengthening things. A lot of songs from Carnavas and Pikul were from the same era. We split them up. The EP was quickly recorded live to cover a bunch of years, more organic, more warmer stuff. While the record we wanted a little bit futuristic, colder.”
While fellow space rock contemporaries like the manga pop anime of Asobi Seksu or the ethereal Pacific Northwest neo-hippie ideals of The High Violets — both possessing spectral female vocalists — take the music literally and transport the listener into space, SSPU uses the genre to make your everyday environment feel alien.
“It’s a weird world to be making music. It’s weird especially if you make music that is moody, like we do. It comes off as a way people act to it emotionally, which is great,” waxes Aubert.
This moodiness enables SSPU to encapsulate the essential existence of a teenager, where every little moment is either an epic adventure or a cataclysmic pivot event in a miniscule life. Call it emo psychedelic, or emo-delic if you will. But, at the hub of this emotion is Aubert’s androgynous vocals, which spin out adolescent gloom and bewilderment that easily translates for today’s YouTube generation.
“A lot of my demons are out of me because of the band and the record. So when you get to that point, you can have a playful attitude with it. I think it’s necessary.”
A first impression upon listening to Carnavas is that SSPU went all Broken Social Scene on us—that there is a platoon of 6 to 8 guitars laying down the pallet for Aubert to croon upon. But, a quick glimpse at the “Lazy Eye” video reveals the band only fronting a bass and lead guitar. It is the digital wizardry of keyboardist Joe Lester who, behind the curtain, churns out the cyclonic tones.
“Joe is a mad scientist. It’s a beautiful experience to have a guy who is gracefully playing the keys. There are a lot of little nuances on the album that might be guitar that are attributed to Joe.”
Like Yin to Yang, Lester’s technics are minimalist by removing an instrument from the standard rock repertoire while at the same time creating an eclectic resonance unobtainable from the common Fender Stratocaster. “We wanted him to mess with certain sounds, make these big spackle-y moments. And, we knew we didn’t want just another guitar because things got too winky. Which is perfect because we don’t need another guitar.” Aubert adds with a laugh, “At least not yet.”
As all disciples of Taoism understand, leaving the Uncarved Block uncut is to accept the good with the bad. This is especially true for the creative process. “You start writing, and it’s almost nothing you can do about it.” After a brief pause, he explains. “It’s either fortunate or unfortunate. It’s just . . . there is.”
He adds, “At the end of the day we are playing rock music on stage and people are clapping.”
Spoken like a true Taoist.
Interview with Brian Aubert
Words: Michael Rabinowitz
Photos: Courtesy of Ink Tank PR
A basic tenet of Taoism is P’u, the Uncarved Block. The essence of the Uncarved Block is that things in their natural simplicity possess their own inherent power that can be easily lost if that simplicity is altered. When a person removes arrogance, ego, and entitlement from their lives they will discover a state of childlike play that is the Uncarved Block. For Brian Aubert, lead singer of Silversun Pickups, an L.A. act experiencing the meteoritic rise of being the “it” band of the moment, living in a constant state of play and wonderment isn’t just a defense to the pitfalls of fame, such as performing on David Letterman or having their music video rotated on MTV. Being in a constant childlike state is the basis of how the band was formed.
Scoring a CMJ Festival spot from a boom box demo recorded on an apartment floor, the Silversun Pickups are the epitome of the Uncarved Block. Bassist Nikki Monninger picked up the axe with no experience with Brian kicking the drum kit to announce his intentions for a new chord progression.
Aubert recalls these early days with the same speed of a six year old reminiscing over his first visit to Disney World. He is living a dream in a bubble that is rapidly rising to the top. And when all you are is the Uncarved Block, these celebratory moments can cause you to question yourself. “We are as astounded as everyone else. Everyone is like, ‘Who the fuck is this band?’ We’re with you. I mean, who the fuck are we? We didn’t expect this kind of attention.”
This wide-eyed stupefaction scored SSPU an opening billing this past year with top national acts such as Wolfmother, The Shins, and The Raconteurs. “We’re so lucky. We’ve been touring and playing with really nice people that are great to be with.”
And what life altering principle has he learned from the experience? “I guess the only thing you really learn is . . . don’t be a dick.”
The Don’t-Be-A-Dick Rule being firmly trenched within Aubert’s core: “For some reason, by thinking you deserve it you are saying, ‘The audience owes me this.’ And, that’s bullshit. You should just feel lucky and happy that you’ve been able to make something that people respond to. In the same respect that you respond to it yourself.” Aubert then scolds an invisible rock star, “Take that chip off your shoulder!” (For some reason, I imagine Jared Leto as the scoldee.)
This lack of ego began when SSPU first formed. They were so into the frivolity of being a band they made the cardinal sin of band promoting 101: market yourselves. Of course, the LA hipster scene interpreted this to mean SSPU was intentionally exclusive. “We got pegged for being a band that was anti-commercial. At the same time, we are not from indie rock elitism, choosing your own fans and that kind of jazz. We just liked playing.” Mocking the kvetching of the scenesters back home, the singer adds, “Now, of course we sold out and you owe me 700.”
Humility aside, SSPU deserves the attention Aubert questions. This attention is the unexpected revitalization for a rock genus that many believed went extinct with the evolution of disciples Coldplay and Radiohead toward the larger, more cohesive sounds they are now famous for. Yet, despite its early demise, the age of shoegazer rock is still in its formative years.
One of the best records from the 1990’s (aside from Nirvana’s Nevermind) is widely considered My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless. Headed by Kevin Shields, the Valentines captured the beauty of feedback, the aural intoxication of swirling guitars, and the true delivery of Phil Spector’s vision of the “Wall of Sound.”
The result was the birth of shoegazer, founded on the psychedelic unfamiliarity of dreams though an avalanche of reverb saturated guitar chords. The sound was so adored by Chicago’s prodigal son, Billy Corgan, that he tapped Shields to produce the epic Siamese Dreams, cementing shoegazing as a profitable art form and not just a techno-geek’s wet dream.
Yet, like all revolutions, the fire required to build one eventually devours it. Corgan sought world domination while Shields unhealthily obsessed over expanding his innovation (with a little MDMA assist). But both gazed too long at their laces (and navels) to appreciate the raison d’etre of being in a rock band: To have fun. Another tenet SSPU adheres to.
“It is fun,” Aubert professes. “It’s fun to get this sad, dark shit out. It’s fun when people tell them the record changed them. It’s fun when you connect with these people.”
But Carnavas, SSPU’s first full-length album, is no Unformed Block. It is an intricate, well textured, deliberately hook-laden collection of driving space rock. From the opening hyperkinetic track, appropriately titled “Melatonin,” to the teenage angst of unrequited love in “Lazy Eye,” to the explosive circular dirge of “Common Reactor,” this is an LP that is so tightly construed it juxtaposes SSPU’s industry eye catching EP, Pikul. The former being more amorphous and spacious than the latter. It leads one to believe that producer Dave Cooley (Rolling Blackouts) attempted to carve his impressions onto the band when it came to studio time for Carnavas.
“We thought that would happen,” Aubert explains. “That is something that we now laugh about. The funny thing was, Dave ended up lengthening things. A lot of songs from Carnavas and Pikul were from the same era. We split them up. The EP was quickly recorded live to cover a bunch of years, more organic, more warmer stuff. While the record we wanted a little bit futuristic, colder.”
While fellow space rock contemporaries like the manga pop anime of Asobi Seksu or the ethereal Pacific Northwest neo-hippie ideals of The High Violets — both possessing spectral female vocalists — take the music literally and transport the listener into space, SSPU uses the genre to make your everyday environment feel alien.
“It’s a weird world to be making music. It’s weird especially if you make music that is moody, like we do. It comes off as a way people act to it emotionally, which is great,” waxes Aubert.
This moodiness enables SSPU to encapsulate the essential existence of a teenager, where every little moment is either an epic adventure or a cataclysmic pivot event in a miniscule life. Call it emo psychedelic, or emo-delic if you will. But, at the hub of this emotion is Aubert’s androgynous vocals, which spin out adolescent gloom and bewilderment that easily translates for today’s YouTube generation.
“A lot of my demons are out of me because of the band and the record. So when you get to that point, you can have a playful attitude with it. I think it’s necessary.”
A first impression upon listening to Carnavas is that SSPU went all Broken Social Scene on us—that there is a platoon of 6 to 8 guitars laying down the pallet for Aubert to croon upon. But, a quick glimpse at the “Lazy Eye” video reveals the band only fronting a bass and lead guitar. It is the digital wizardry of keyboardist Joe Lester who, behind the curtain, churns out the cyclonic tones.
“Joe is a mad scientist. It’s a beautiful experience to have a guy who is gracefully playing the keys. There are a lot of little nuances on the album that might be guitar that are attributed to Joe.”
Like Yin to Yang, Lester’s technics are minimalist by removing an instrument from the standard rock repertoire while at the same time creating an eclectic resonance unobtainable from the common Fender Stratocaster. “We wanted him to mess with certain sounds, make these big spackle-y moments. And, we knew we didn’t want just another guitar because things got too winky. Which is perfect because we don’t need another guitar.” Aubert adds with a laugh, “At least not yet.”
As all disciples of Taoism understand, leaving the Uncarved Block uncut is to accept the good with the bad. This is especially true for the creative process. “You start writing, and it’s almost nothing you can do about it.” After a brief pause, he explains. “It’s either fortunate or unfortunate. It’s just . . . there is.”
He adds, “At the end of the day we are playing rock music on stage and people are clapping.”
Spoken like a true Taoist.
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