Stop What You're Doing: How Lorelei Transcended Its Influences And Produced The Undersung, Prescient Post-Rock Classic Everyone Must Touch The Stove

[By Edward Charlton / UPDATED] Time, place and personnel. These three elements proved to be everything for Lorelei, a misfit trio of adventurous indie musicians whose debut long-playing album, Everyone Must Touch The Stove, turned 20 years old in September.

The time was the early 1990s, when the so-called alternative ethos loomed over both the musical underground and overground, experiencing its first identity crisis when grunge penetrated the purview of high school dances and topped the pop charts. The place was Washington, D.C., where the narrowly realized punk idealism of the '80s had ebbed, giving way to a fertile and diverse scene whose possibilities seemed limitless in the minds of many of its players. And so it was with the band; Lorelei was a challenged and ever-changing project, which -- through a series of fortunate and formative experiences -- chanced upon the ideal combination of the three aforementioned factors to create an expansive, experimental and startlingly prescient indie rock album. Indeed, the long-player Everyone Must Touch The Stove foretold much of the coming post-rock movement, whose influence helped shape the next two decades of sub-popular independent music. Lorelei continues to perform live occasionally, and is poised to announce at least one special performance for the end of 2015. More about that below.

Following a series of terrific compilation tracks, singles and the beautiful Asleep EP -- recordings whose sounds closely tracked to the group's rapid development and lineup changes -- Lorelei committed 10 of its most refined and experimental pieces to tape at home and Geoff Turner's WGNS studios in Arlington, Virginia in 1994. Released a year later by the esteemed Slumberland Records, Stove was Lorelei's final statement until a 2006 reunion precipitated the 2012 comeback LP Enterprising Sidewalks. Slumberland calls Stove "a brave album, blending together a vast array of sounds into a bold statement of the possibilities of pop and rock, heading off in a hundred different directions at the same time, but still remaining a cohesive whole." Mr. Turner below positively assesses the record as "unyielding." Clicky Clicky does not disagree on either count.

Opener "Today's Shrug" sets the tone with shifting melodies, guitar feedback and the act's endlessly creative and sturdy rhythm section, all of which underpin evocative lyrics and uniquely emotive vocals. Throughout the album, highly technical, stereo guitar effects workouts ("Thigh For A Leg," "Throwaway," and the otherworldly centerpiece "Inside The Crimelab") mingle with power-pop rockers ("Newsprint," "Stop What You’re Doing") and polyrhythmic acoustic instrumentals and interludes ("Day," "Windmill") for a curiously wandering and dreamy listen that seems to exist both within and without the era in which it was created. Even now, Stove's terrific songwriting and artful textures intrigue new fans discovering the record for the first time. While it is Clicky Clicky's experience that we rarely encounter a musician that says they were directly influenced by the band (even Allmusic.com paradoxically has nothing to say about the record), it is pretty much the rule that every musician to whom we have introduced Everyone Must Touch The Stove finds it inspiring. To loosely paraphrase one of them, the time is right to reintroduce this exceptional record to people and give it the critical appraisal it deserves.

We had the honor of speaking this fall with Lorelei drummer Davis White, guitarist/singer Matthew Dingee and bassist Stephen Gardner, as well as revered engineer and producer Geoff Turner, about the creation of Stove, their thoughts on the Mid-Atlantic indie-pop scene of the '90s, and the legacy of the record today. Each of them gave highly considerate and detailed answers to our questions, for which we are very grateful. Our exchanges below transport us back to that hopeful, youthful and, above all else, inventive time two decades gone. Press play on the record and join us on our deep dive into Lorelei's 1995 classic, Everyone Must Touch The Stove.

Clicky Clicky: Tell us about how the band first began.

Davis White (drummer): Stephen and I met at an American University dorm party, in September of 1990. Our bands had played a show together earlier that summer and he recognized me. We hatched a plan to start a band faintly resembling Charlatans UK after Christmas break. Stephen was 14 and I was 29. Neither of us really belonged at such a party, so [it was] quite an unlikely meeting. For brevity and to avoid distraction, we will mostly ignore the myriad early line-ups [of Lorelei] from January to September of 1991 involving (original guitarist) Dave Cerf, Stephen and I. That is a story for another time, and I don't want to short-change all the other fine folks we played with. This period produced our first single "The Bitter Air," so it wasn't a total washout. But I would say Lorelei, as we know it today, began with this post-note from Stephen's mom, "Matt from the Lilys called." It has been folded away in my Boss tuner since that day in August 1991.

Matthew Dingee (guitarist/vocalist): I guess I shouldn't be shocked that Davis has this note. He and Stephen are excellent documentarians. I will say I was definitely formerly of Lilys by that point. [Lilys mastermind] Kurt [Heasley] had been squatting at my apartment while I was in Lilys, which was an awesome arrangement as far as I was concerned (my parents were less enthused). I learned a ton from him and enjoyed it. But that arrangement came to an end, and shortly after I was told by Archie [Moore, of Velocity Girl] that he was my replacement in Lilys. I only mention this because I cannot recall if it was Archie, Kurt, or Mike Schulman who suggested I call Stephen. Regardless, thanks to whomever pushed me in that direction.

DW: Stephen and I had seen Matt a couple of times in Lilys and enjoyed his playing style, recognizing a major The Cure influence. We were ecstatic when he expressed interest in joining us. Dave had moved away to attend his first year at CalArts. So Matt was thrust into playing our legacy material as the replacement guitarist. We played like this for a couple of months, but the old set wasn't sounding very good. By November we had whittled down to a more productive and satisfying trio. We quickly worked up a new set based around songs Matt had written prior to meeting us. The trio first played a fall concert prom at Stephen's high school. To illustrate the timeline, Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" was riding high on the top of the charts. Two or three of the high school bands covered the song that night. Matt observed that it was going to be "a hard fight for us to compete with all this grunge."

Stephen Gardner (bassist): I got an early start with music through my older sisters and the typical mid-'80s entry point of The Smiths, The Cure, New Order, etc., choosing to learn bass because one of them said it was "cooler than guitar." I followed them straight to the Dischord scene. People always ask us about being from D.C., and while the music [there] had a huge impact on me, it was the fact that there was this totally youth-organized, completely accessible, all-ages environment of kids doing their own thing that was the biggest influence and created a sense of perpetual possibility. Anyway, by 1990 I had played in a few short-lived hardcore bands and had a show with one of Davis's many other bands, Repercussion, who I had seen several times by then. He, sounding like Joe Jackson and playing a mandolin in a band that was somewhere between thrash and early [Elvis] Costello, was hard to forget. A friend and well-known D.C. photographer, Colby Caldwell, whose photos are on most of the Lorelei records, had gotten me into 4AD stuff and my discovery of a succession of EPs from Lush, Pale Saints, Ride, The Boo Radleys, Slowdive and My Bloody Valentine shifted my whole perception about what was possible -- that there was maybe a way to combine the vitality of Rites Of Spring with the harmonic complexity of The Smiths, all wrapped up in this new depth, texture and space I was hearing on these records. [I was] [c]onvinced I needed to start a new band to make that happen...

CC: What was your experience with the people and places of the Mid-Atlantic and D.C. indie-pop/rock scene from 1990-1996? How do you view that era now? In the context of the label's roster and also in hindsight, Lorelei "makes sense," but at the time did you feel like what you were setting out to do fit well within the regional scene, or did you feel like Lorelei was doing something new and alien?

MD: To us the regional scene boiled down to Dischord and then the labels behind Pop Losers: Slumberland, Teen Beat, and Simple Machines. Within that scene, I was staunchly pro-Slumberland and fairly anti- everything else. Slumberland grew into a tight knit family of friends. Mike and I listened to a ton of records together around this time. It was quite an education. It's hard for me to put into words just how important the relationships built at that time are to me. Slumberland is my tribe and I'm still happy they haven't kicked me to the curb.

Lorelei as a three-piece didn't start off too far afield from Lilys, though much less refined. We played with bands on other local labels and enjoyed that. But fitting in was the last thing I wanted to do. To Mike's credit, he didn't seem to worry too much about whether the roster fit together. He put out records by the bands he liked. He just happens to have inscrutable taste and so it all fits together in the end. For example, despite the fact that we sound nothing like Small Factory, I'd go completely mental when they played. They were so good and played with such enthusiasm. I wanted to do that.

SG: For all the freedom and self-expression that was happening in the punk scene in 1990, it was pretty clear that, sonically, there tended to be a pretty narrow universe of acceptable sounds and interests, particularly from fans of that stuff. I was always a bit confused about that contradiction, but it was clear to me from the beginning that Lorelei was not going to fit in there or find much following in those circles. But, through Vinyl Ink, the 9:30, and DC Space, the wider world was right there, and I think probably everyone involved in these "other" D.C. scenes has the same basic story of being turned on by D.C. punk and applying that energy and method to whatever else they were into.

We found our way to Slumberland right away through my job at Smash Records and trips to Vinyl Ink in Maryland. I had met Mike Schulman, who worked at Vinyl Ink, and learned he had a label and of his legendary knowledge of just about every genre and phase of modern music. I think the Jane Pow single was the first Slumberland release I heard and I remember being blown away by "Warm Room." On that alone, Dave, our first guitarist, and I walked to Vinyl Ink one day in the spring of '91 with a demo and handed it to Mike. He was the first person we gave it to and, luckily, he quickly helped us get our first show -- with the Lilys -- and the 7" followed thereafter.

From there on, the label and the people interested in it and the bands on it became our home base, both because of and in spite of the diversity on the label. Davis and I still stayed connected to our punk roots all the same, and living in Arlington, Dischord, Teenbeat, and Simple Machines stuff was always around. But, the other Slumberland stuff was surely the least popular of any of the scenes in DC. It's hard to know if we were facing explicit hostility or just indifference, but our entire career was mostly spent playing to 30 people in D.C. However, it's important to remember that despite all these labels and bands coming out of D.C. at the time, it was really a pretty small group of people locally that were coming out to see shows of this punk and indie stuff anyway, so the pot of people who might care was always small to begin with, so we are probably wrong to feel too slighted. Each label tended to have its own core of folks and we'd occasionally politely play together, but the only time I feel like this whole punk/indie community really shared a common scene was when everyone would converge at Fugazi shows.

CC: How would you describe the progression that the group saw between the "Bitter Air" 7", "Mimesis" from the ...One Last Kiss comp, the Asleep EP and then the full-length?

MD: You can hear the transition on Asleep. Seeing and meeting Moonshake and Stereolab really connected some previously unconnected dots. Specifically, the Krautrock motorik sound connected with "On the Corner," World Domination Enterprises, and Adrian Sherwood. Plus a heavy dose of Beach Boys and The Wedding Present. I was already listening to more aggressive stuff (The Birthday Party, Skullflower, No Wave) and playing with Mike Schulman and Dan Searing in a post-Whorl noise project. By the time we were working on the Asleep tracks, we were trying to accommodate all these disparate sounds and not rule anything out. Despite having the shoegaze label thrown at us, we were hardly staring at our shoes at this point. There was a fair amount of equipment destruction, blood, sweat, and tears. We practiced at least twice a week for several years and played out a fair amount. With the confidence that comes from playing all the time, we had grown more and more adventurous by the time Stove rolled around.

SG: This is when Lorelei starts to sound like ourselves, I think -- plenty of clear influences, but some weird strands of DNA mutating them into something else. All that was influencing our writing in 1993 and when we went to the UK that fall to promote the EP, we had started working on a few Stove tracks, like "A Thigh For A Leg" [and] "Newsprint."

Although the tour was a disaster in many ways -- proving again that I, all of 17, should not have been left to manage most of the booking and business affairs of the band -- it was crucial to the album in two respects. First, we got to meet and see some of our favorite bands on their home turf, which raised our own expectations of what our next release could and should be. Secondly, having met our makers, so to speak, we confronted the reality that we really didn't fit there, either -- we were too British for America and not American enough for the UK. This had the effect of pushing us away a bit from the Asleep songs and our past influences and making us more determined to follow our impulses and play to our strength -- our diversity of interests -- with more confidence.

CC: What was it like in the time and preparation leading up to recording Stove?

MD: It took what felt like forever for anything to come out. Both in terms of how long it took us to create new songs, as well as the length of time it took a release to reach listeners. Thus I didn't want to include anything from a prior release on the album. Lorelei is all about not repeating. We only started repeating set lists recently (because we have less time now to practice now than we did then). In fact, we had lots of songwriting... guidelines let's say... one of which was that Stephen and I very rarely, if ever, intentionally played the same chord or note at the same time. Repeating a track would have been heresy. That said, Stove, like the rest of our output, is hardly lacking in epics. There is a reason there is a track missing from the vinyl: It would not physically fit!

SG: Our first session for Stove was in February 1994, and we had spent the previous fall and early winter, after returning from our UK tour, writing the first batch of songs. Since we wrote collaboratively during practice sessions, the writing process usually took a long time, and I think we felt pressure to get into the studio, both to capitalize on whatever momentum we had gotten from Asleep, and because the clock was ticking on the band. I had deferred college a year in the fall of '93 to keep things moving with Lorelei and work some before hitting the books again. I think we all knew that the band's future was somewhat in question once I left for school, and that this was our chance to make a great LP. Our own expectations were set high, and having developed a better understanding of the recording process and done Asleep with Geoff Turner, we were anxious to try new things out.

Geoff Turner (engineer, producer): In that time period my studio WGNS was recording records for local independent labels like Teenbeat, Simple Machines, Dischord, Jade Tree, et al. Lorelei was a good fit for our place. They were all recording enthusiasts and had their own studio. They were also hopeless record-dissecting geeks. Listening back to the album 20 years later, I'm pleasantly surprised by how unyielding the record is, with odd song structures, abrupt time signature changes, and sonic bombast. It's really epic, but not an album with tons of what you'd call (in early '90s speak) "cross-over potential."

CC: What was it like recording with Geoff?

DW: I had known Geoff in passing from the '80s hardcore scene. A friend of mine had joined a Dag Nasty offshoot band and they were recording at WGNS. I tagged along. Sitting in the control room, the convenient Arlington location and equipment impressed me. "How do I get Lorelei in here?" I wondered. We had been using a studio in Maryland for "Bitter Air" and "Mimesis." Due to year-long bridge construction it required a very inconvenient drive to get there. The band were reluctant (to varying degrees) when I suggested using Geoff's studio for the upcoming Asleep EP — worried we would end up with an "American-" or "punk rock"- sounding record and wanting to remain loyal to our previous producer. Matt and Stephen were students; being the only full-time worker, I probably strong-armed them into accepting WGNS by refusing to pay for anyplace else. Conflict is how Lorelei works, something the other mates celebrate more than I do. More examples to come, dear interview reader! Geoff quickly won over the guys via a studio tour, and the recording and mixing sessions went well for these four songs.

SG: I was a big fan of Geoff's earlier bands Gray Matter and Three, particularly of Gray Matter's Take It Back EP. It's probably true that I was longing for a Guy Fixsen production -- which we'd eventually get to do on Enterprising Sidewalks -- and depressed that such a thing was obviously impossible when Davis brought up WGNS and Geoff. But from my recollection, I was excited about working with Geoff and secretly hopeful that he'd turn out to be someone from my early cast of heroes that was actually into what we were trying to do. He turned out to be just that, plus exceedingly patient with our strange band dynamic, relentlessly positive, open to trying just about anything, and full of good ideas. He really was a good fit for us...

DW: After [our] sobering tour of England for Asleep -- documented in Robert Salsbury's [tour film] "If You Don’t Try, Nothing Ever Happens" -- we agreed the next step would be an album. There was a feeling that if the band broke up without being able to produce even one album, it would render Lorelei a failure. My slacker job doing graphics at a print shop did not pay enough to record at WGNS again. We borrowed ADATs and microphones from my previous band and did most of the tracking ourselves. We recorded at Stephen's house in the woods of North Arlington. Committed to continue working with Geoff, we were able to do select overdubs and mix the album with him. The first session produced "Thigh For A Leg," "Newsprint," "Windmill" and "Stop What You're Doing." Geoff seemed to enjoy the freedom that came with not making a spartan punk rock record. His own projects Senator Flux and New Wet Kojak were very innovative and somewhat before their time. Geoff saw that we were game for complicated sound-effects and unnatural timbres. Nothing was automated, so the effects were done live during the mix, often requiring three sets of hands and 20 minutes of set-up. There was a look of joy on his face when he heard the finished effect. Trying to keep Geoff happy and hiding any major band dysfunction from him was my goal for a time.

MD: We mixed some of the tracks in Avalon Studio in Bethesda, MD, which was well-equipped. I very distinctly recall that Geoff used every single piece of equipment in the place for the climax of "Crimelab." He genuinely seemed to enjoy that we wanted to push what could be accomplished in a studio at that time. He was a willing and enthusiastic collaborator. Geoff also put up with a significant amount of in-band bickering, which I didn't appreciate nearly enough at the time. Thanks, Geoff! I'm not sure why he tolerated us, honestly. I'm not sure I would have had the patience if I were in his shoes.

WGNS was a comfortable place to record, which is crucial. We didn't have to explain ourselves to Geoff. He got what we were about. So in that way it was huge relief to not have to go into a hostile environment and record. It sounds stupid now, but at the time we really were concerned that if we went to Inner Ear, for example, that our record would come out sounding... not like us. Just getting someone to try what you wanted to try in a studio was not a given. There were plenty of places that would have happily taken our money and not helped us much at all. I can't recall a single instance of Geoff discouraging us from trying something. As Stephen mentioned, Geoff was infinitely patient with us and I'm eternally grateful.

DW: Yes, the second set of songs were mixed four months later at Avalon. Geoff had worked out a deal with owner Steve Murphy to use the studio during down time at a discount rate. Matt had borrowed Stephen's 4-track and composed most of the remaining songs in a couple of weeks. The arrangements were done quickly and recorded at Stephen's house while the songs were still fresh. I was barely able to make it through many of them during tracking, as the drum parts were trickier. "Throwaway" has a particularly bizarre, looping beat, but it wasn't jungle-inspired. The band had rejected my initial, simple 2-4 snare. On the spot I came up with the stupidest rhythm I could think of to appease them. The joke was on me, as it sounded perfect. Matt adjusted his part to fit the new syncopations and off it went.

Overdubs were done over the next two weeks. The heavily-layered guitars were tri-amped through a Danelectro 3x10 combo, Acoustic 4x12, and Fender Bassman, live-mixed to one track. Looking at the tracking sheet, we had 4-7 tracks reserved for guitar out of the 16 available tracks on the ADATs. The unusual instruments [borrowed] from the Woodlawn [school] instrument room for this session included a double bass, some tuned woodblocks, conga drum and the Gardner family piano. Through a fortunate error, a cheesy orchestral percussion track on "Crimelab" did not get transferred to the 24-track mixing tape at Avalon.

"Crimelab," "Today's Shrug," and "Quiet Staid Debt," were mixed on a Friday night and Saturday at Avalon. My insistence that we dial-down the excesses on "Debt" -- as I wanted prominent, uncompressed, crystal clear, jazz-drums -- well, it sure put me on the bad side of Geoff and the group. I left the session mid-day, after that track was mixed, having worn out my welcome. "Day," "Throwaway," and "Pillar" were mixed without me. This explains why (among other "innovations") the snare drum is panned 100% left on the last track. Snickering aside, when I first heard these mixes I was struck that the final product "didn’t sound like anything else." We had finally achieved a unique band voice. If it was unmarketable, so be it.

CC: How was the experience of recording the album? Fond memories and stand-out experiences?

DW: After transferring the ADAT to Geoff's 1-inch 16-track machine, we did a couple of overdub sessions for the first group of songs. I remember walking into his studio and Matt was flat on his back singing "Windmill" into the bottom of a piano. I knew it was going to be a weird afternoon. Stephen directed me to "help unload the car." We doubled-up on marimba, Matt played a dissected Hammond organ that Geoff was fixing, some group percussion was added, [it was all] totally spontaneous and enjoyable.

SG: I remember very little of the first session, but recall that we took over my house for the tracking, with different instruments set up in different rooms so we could experiment with additions once we got basics down. I remember playing the xylophone parts on "Quiet Staid Debt" on my bathroom floor. In those pre-Pro-Tools days, we spent a lot of time getting takes right or overlooking imperfections for the sake of overall sound or feel. Davis did all the engineering, which was a godsend, and I think Matt and I did overdubs separately with him. We had very little money for the band and almost always lost more than we made per show, so the fact that Davis was a good engineer with lots of his own and borrowed gear was a big advantage. If we had had to pay someone to engineer during the tracking phase, we would not have been able to spend nearly as much time as we did on those songs.

MD: I recall that we did the basic tracks fairly quickly because, again, we were playing often at this time, and so the songs were well-rehearsed. Then we spent forever and a day on overdubs because we were definitely in a "more is more" frame of mind. I can only imagine what we would have created if we had access to a tool like Ableton Live back then. We would have gone ballistic.

Then, vocals were also done fairly quickly. I was being petulant and wanted the vocal delivery to feel "live," or at least sound like one cohesive performance. So I think some of the tracks might even be one take. There was a fair amount of punk attitude in me at this time, and I suppose that's where it shows the most. It was like "Fuck it. Doing it in one take. Not worth the time. Let's mix again!" We did not scrutinize every line like we do now. If there is anything I would change about the record, it would be most of the vocals ("Crimelab" and "Windmill" are okay, but the rest could use some assistance).

GT: My memories of recording this album are almost completely fragmented. Obviously this album was mixed in a pre-ProTools, analog console world, so all of the dynamic and tonal changes, shifting effects, and fader moves were mixed down live by hand to the master tape. When I think back to the sessions, I just remember all of us sitting in close proximity over the board debating mix moves. I joined in these debates willingly. There were a lot of manifestos delivered during the sessions, but I don't recall much stress or hassle. They indulged in constant but good natured goading and ridicule amongst themselves, but that was all really funny and OK. I don't remember eating good food or going out much, [so] we must have been working really hard.

"Inside The Crimelab" still stands as one of my favorite mixing sessions and I’ve had déjà vu back to that day while working with other bands. We built this mix that was so geometrically crisscrossed with delay paths and wobbly instrument treatments that it was completely disorienting even to us during the mix. That song still has that temporal rift effect for me listening back 20 years on, the beat and stereo space just seems so bent by the mixing.

Matt would go out into the studio, actually I believe we sent him into the tiny studio restroom, to record these crazy emo-fueled shrieking freakouts, like cathartic vocal outbursts. These were overdubs and were mixed in low during the parts of the songs when the guitars detonated your speakers. I can't remember which songs had these screaming tracks, but on re-listening I'm imagining that I'm hearing them on every song all over the album, which is cool.

The band really acted as their own "producer" and by the recording of Stove they had devised an arrangement wherein each band member assumed the role of executive producer for certain songs. So Davis's opinion (for example) was given the most weight for the recording and mixing direction on that particular song and became like his mini-fiefdom. This worked out really well, brought variety to the album and cut the endless discussions and bullying to a minimum.

CC: There seems to be a lot of less-conventional recording techniques and details within the songs, including very uniquely panned tremolos, delay sounds and distortion effects. What’s going on there? What inspired that? How much of it was a reaction to other things happening at the time?

SG: Partly, this comes from just getting deeper into the recording process and listening much more for production. Davis entered the band already knowing what he was doing in the studio, but Matt and I both came to really understand production through recording in Lorelei, which in turn, changed the way we both listened to records and what we wanted from our own. As cliché as it may be, we had come to see the studio as another member of the band and wanted to put that new member to work. The other factor is that we had way more gear at our disposal than normal in the mixing process, so part of this is just the desire to use all the toys we had.

DW: Geoff and the band would ponder each of the 16 instrument tracks with a "what can we do to this" attitude. Sometimes, one simple change, such as "Crimelab's" distorted conga drum that Geoff came up with, would redefine the song. This would influence the next effect, and the one after that, until we ran out of patches. The bass guitar was spared any tinkering and had a simple chain throughout. It was recorded direct, then run through a Peavey tube preamp during the mix. Stephen didn't yet have his amazing Acoustic 360 bass "refrigerator" for much of the recording of the album, unfortunately.

MD: I believe Lydia Lunch said something along the lines of "Do anything but start a guitar/bass/drums 3-piece" in regards to the birth of No Wave. I became enamored with the idea that our setup was just done, cooked, over. That resulted in my trying to torture and mutate the guitar sound into something else. Mainly because I could not adequately play anything else, but also because we recognized that mutation in the bands we enjoyed. Look at Slowdive and Seefeel: guitars are certainly there, but they hardly sound like a guitar plugged into a RAT distortion pedal and then into an amp. [T]hat is essentially what most bands around us were doing and I just found that... underwhelming.

But the other thing to mention here is that Lorelei as a three-piece has always had alternately tuned guitars (inspired by Sonic Youth and Bailter Space). "Stale Houses" [from Asleep] is the last song I played a traditional tuning on. I use an open tuning (EAEABE), and that combined with distortion and EQ helps me generate this giant, full sound that lends itself to the effects and manipulation you hear on the record. That sense of experimentation, wanting to have a unique guitar sound, being inspired by noise, controlling and warping of sound is there from the very start and continues through all of our material.

CC: How was the public and critical reception to the album at the time of its release in your view? Was there a tour in support?

SG: We finished mixing the LP in June or July of '94 and it would take over a year for it to come out. Like all of our releases, the time it took to get the record out was a complete killer. These delays were always due to some combo of our incompetence, Slumberland's challenges with money, distribution, etc., and just the way things worked then. My recollection is that the release was essentially ignored. Part of that was our fault. I was already starting my second year of college, so we had really reduced the amount of shows we were playing, plus we had all started other projects to fill in for Lorelei while we couldn't play together. Of course, we didn't have a press or booking agent, and didn't tour for the record because, by then, time was limited and we could never seem to make touring cover our costs. So, it was pretty much destined to fail, but in addition to these self-inflicted factors, I'm sure we faced the normal hostility or disregard we had experienced from most of the US music press. I think The Ropers' All The Time, which was released together with Stove by Slumberland that same week, faced a similar response. While there was some solace in the fact that other great records [of that time] like Bark Psychosis' Hex and Disco Inferno's DI Go Pop... which seemed to be springing from the same well as us, were getting ignored, too, we struggled to understand what to do about it.

CC: So what happened next?

SG: We played several shows that summer and fall of 1995 and into the winter with the release of the LP, for which we had a single record-release show in D.C., being pretty sick of the songs by then since they were all more than a year old. We had written a new batch of songs during the summer of '95, most of which we recorded then but didn't mix until 2001, long after we had disbanded. Our last show was in early 1996 in Baltimore at a strip club that had occasional shows. One of my best Lorelei memories was of Matt taking a running leap, guitar-first, into the stripper'’s pole, with the pole working like a giant slide against the fret board. With me back in school in Massachusetts, everyone with new projects, and us with an LP we felt proud of but that failed to register with nearly anyone, it seemed pretty obvious that the time had come to pack it up. Luckily, the end was not acrimonious and, despite lots of challenges between us, I think we all left the band as friends, feeling like we had accomplished something important and with our respect and admiration for each other intact. This was obviously essential to our later work together.

DW: Band activity was next to zero after a brief flurry of shows to promote the album. Tired of dealing with the acrimony, I had adopted a "teamster" persona by this time, contributing only minimally to anything new. We limped along during Stephen's college breaks until Matt decided to move to San Francisco. I was sad to see him go, but relieved the band was over. When I heard the news, I gave out a dramatic 20-second exhale.

MD: We moved apart. I released a Lorelei EP on my label Textilesounds. Then I moved back to the area in 2006 and we made Enterprising Sidewalks, which we hope folks will also find and enjoy over time.

CC: One of my favorite music articles is Nitsuh Abebe's Pitchfork piece "The Lost Generation," which includes Stove as a defining work of the hard-to-categorize post-rock movement. What are your thoughts regarding that? Do you feel that there was "something in the air" during that time that led to the kind of innovations that he mentions?

MD: It’s nice to be included in the same breath as Disco Inferno, Laika, Pram, Main, etc. I'm not sure I would put Stove at the same level as Laika or Main. They are operating at a different level.

I do rankle a little bit at being put into the "Followers and Fellow Travelers." I don't know which one applies to us, but it feels a bit like the "also rans." I mean, we are American despite not being from Chicago. And if you look at when our record was recorded... there is no way we are a follower of any other American band that you would describe as post-rock. We were recording at the same time as those "Lost Generation" bands. So, for what it is worth, we were there. We were there in that same head space at that same time. You would have had to come to D.C. to see it, but it was here to see.

But in the end we're all quite pleased that the record has found an audience over time. None of the divisions in sound, place, time, [or] label matter as much any longer. At times it was frustrating, but for the most part it was an exciting time to be making music.

It makes sense that a band as forward-thinking as Lorelei would not take much time to pause and consider the nostalgia and historical context of the first chapter of its career. One could argue that this was exemplified quite effectively by its comeback record Enterprising Sidewalks, which further expanded the trio's sounds and philosophies within a contemporary context. This author was also, admittedly, unsure how to cap this interview following their sense that Stove saw little fanfare upon release. It's a shame, to be sure. But, in the weeks following our conversations with the band, a silver lining materialized. Lorelei has just disclosed that -- partially inspired by this interview -- it will play Everyone Must Touch The Stove in its entirety at The Black Cat in Washington, D.C. on Dec. 28. While more details about that special event are forthcoming (and we will be sure to alert you within these electronic pages), it is yet another important step toward ensuring that this special piece of art not only establishes its proper place in the pantheon of innovative rock music, but also bends the ears of a new generation of women and men who -- like the members of Lorelei 20 years ago -- enjoy the thrill of pure discovery. For fans in the market for a copy, Slumberland currently has the CD on sale for a ridiculously reasonable price. If you're not already listening to the record as you read these words, stream the entire set via the YouTube embed below.

Lorelei: Facebook | Interzizzles

I WILL WRITE A MYSTERY FOR YOU TO SOLVE: An Oral History of Lilys' Astonishing Eccsame The Photon Band

|| by EDWARD CHARLTON || [updated] This month marks the 20th anniversary of the release of Lilys' powerful and mysterious Eccsame The Photon Band, a unique collection even among the oeuvre of Kurt Heasley, the band's notably restless songwriter and only constant member. For our money, it is certainly one of the most engaging -- if underheard -- indie rock albums of the '90s. Like a lot of great music, the album's creation owes a debt to that rare and singular cocktail of youth: chance, environment and a positive open-mindedness shared among the four men who created it. "Behold and open to the light," translates the title -- a sentiment that seems to have guided the principals behind it from the foursome's very first minute together.

As we listened to Mr. Heasley, drummer Harry Evans and producer Rich Costey tell the story of the album, we found that Eccsame The Photon Band was a roughly month-long flash of exhaustive inspiration -- a gnawing, melodic, experimental expression that sprang into being so suddenly it felt as if it were over nearly as soon as it had begun. Despite that, the music and production contained therein has continued to resonate with those involved, as well as with a fanatical cult following attracted to its atypical dream-pop charms. Among those, cryptic lyrics, crestfallen textures, occasional moments of loud guitar and a spiritual and devastating silence all continue to stun. To mark the aforementioned anniversary, Clicky Clicky spoke with Mssrs. Heasley, Evans and Costey about the summer of 1994, discussing a wide-range of topics including the philosophies, drum sounds and even the studio weeping that birthed a rare and unique aural document.

"I can't deviate out of the moment -- you get into the game of expectations, then you get into the game of disappointment," Heasley tells Clicky Clicky from his present home in Los Angeles. The sentiment arrives early in our conversation about the album, and it quickly becomes apparent that Eccsame was (and is) something of a mission statement for just that mentality.

The genesis of that notion came two years prior to the creation of Eccsame, spurred by some of the negative reception to Lilys' magnificent and now-legendary 1992 shoegaze debut full-length, In The Presence of Nothing. "I had no idea people would listen to this," he says of that collection, "Much less feel so strongly [about it]. It was ultimately just a group of friends making something in a basement for a few hours. I took it as the most extreme feelings [from some in the scene] of being left out of their own party."

Disappointed, but confident in the power of his on-the-fly approach, Heasley began to see how the band's process might function in the face of more standard and predictable musical norms.

In the wake of the flawless, power-pop injected A Brief History of Amazing Letdowns EP that was released the next year, Heasley made some life changes that would further create the conditions for an experiment like Eccsame. "I had new urban experiences because I had moved from Lancaster [Pennsylvania] into Philadelphia proper, living with some incredible people," he said, "Joey Sweeney let me sleep on his girlfriend's couch for weeks. It was just this ongoing live/work/play space and the amount of literature, cinema and old records that I was being turned on to for the first time was great. There, I had the feeling of going from 22 to 23, and the prevailing wisdom that 23 is the best worst year of your life. Slowly, there were responsibilities creeping in and the realization that 'this is not a dress rehearsal.'"

At the same time, the alternative/grunge zeitgeist of the prior several years was beginning to breed bad vibes. Not only did Kurt Cobain's death in the spring of '94 mark a dramatic shift in the mood of rock culture, but recent records by Talk Talk's Mark Hollis and Pale Saint's Ian Masters alerted Heasley to the loss of fidelity and subtlety in those buzzing times. "Those gated drums in '92," he exclaimed with a sigh. A trip to a Broadway production later that year would also make an impression on him. "Listening to what a five-piece pit orchestra could do literally blew me apart. Working from that level where everyone plays their part and has mastered themselves revealed a new world."

In the winter following the release of A Brief History Of Amazing Letdowns, Heasley began sketching out some fresh ideas. Those recordings would ultimately be released on 2000's Tigerstyle Records split with Aspera Ad Astra. As a historical document, the four songs reveal a remarkably clear vision of the minimal, dreamy sound that would ultimately define Eccsame -- what Stylus Magazine writer Andrew Unterberger described as "Not influenced by shoegazing as a genre, but rather as a principle."

It was time to enter the studio.

That summer, spinART Records agreed to provide five weeks of time at Studio .45, a converted turn-of-the-century Colt firearms factory in Hartford, Connecticut. It was also at that point that Harry Evans of power-pop standouts Poole and producer Rich Costey entered the picture.

Evans had known Heasley for a few years by '94, and had played on every Lilys release beginning with Presence. The two first met due to being physically larger guys in the scene who looked similar and both showed up at the same music store. "I was shopping there and somebody called me (Kurt's nickname) 'Wally' and I was like, 'no, I'm Harry!'" Evan says, laughing, "We happened to be at the store at the same time eventually and recognized each other due to that mix up. We started hanging out and eventually he asked me if I wanted to play drums for him. He played me "February Fourteenth" and I was like 'What the hell! Of course!'"

Following the release of A Brief History and the subsequent shows for that record, Heasley approached him with an idea. "Kurt was like, 'I want to make a record, and I want it to just be you and me.' He booked a lot of time. I hadn't heard any of the material, but he said we could learn it in the studio. Having faith in anything Kurt does, I agreed immediately," Evans reflects. That summer, the two loaded up a van with gear and made the trek to Hartford. There, they met producer Costey and engineer Mike Deming. Costey had been chosen based on work he had done with scene compatriots The Swirlies.

"I was doing a few records for spinART around that time, and at some point I ended up on a phone call with Kurt," Costey remembers, “He was an interesting character on the phone, and I still remember my first phone call with him -- rambling on and on whilst puffing on cigarettes the whole time. We must have connected somewhat. I liked the psychedelic aspect to [Lilys'] music a lot, based only on the album they had out the year before, and given the general monochromatic, conservative landscape of American grunge at that time, Kurt's music struck me as being a total technicolor garden. I had worked with The Swirlies, whom I think he begrudgingly respected, but those two bands were actually quite different in approach. The Swirlies were fighting their own limitations whereas Kurt never saw or felt any limitations at all... [He] was inventing his own landscape."

Setting up on the first day, Heasley and Evans filled out Studio .45's large, single-room with their instruments. Beginning at dusk, the duo at first had a hard time connecting. "On the first day we set everything up, Kurt was going to guide me through the songs," said Evans, "We started recording really late, but it was just not clicking. The first song we were working on was "FBI And Their Toronto Transmitters." Eventually I got super frustrated. While I had told myself initially that I was going to be really sober and work as hard as possible during the session, we ultimately took a break and I got REALLY high. We went back in and nailed it in the first take. I was like, "Aw, this is really disappointing (chuckles)."

"For the first 10 days Costey probably didn't think they were songs!," Heasley added.

After these initial hurdles, the duo settled into a groove, with Evans adapting to Heasley's ideas and advice regarding drumming. "There was a methodical thought to the way that the fills were put together. He really helped me to curb my ego, and I was willing to say 'I will listen to your ideas.' Ultimately, they proved to be great ideas. I had to be open," Evans remembered.

The songs gradually came together over the ensuing weeks, and many of the album's iconic textures began to take focus -- specifically, the massive, roomy drum sound that many Eccsame cultists rave about.

Costey recited the technical details for accomplishing this with aplomb. "The drum sound was a combination of several things: the hard, open space that the live room at Studio .45 presented; a precisely placed AKG 414 placed in between the kick and snare drums, aimed at the floor... heavily compressed with a Spectrasonics 610 compressor; and also the minimal and incredibly powerful, tasteful playing of Harry Evans. Listening to it today, it seems a study in how a drummer should play to the sound presented to him or her, as opposed to the other way around."

Mike Deming is also credited by the other three as being instrumental to the presentation. "I’ve got to credit him for that drum sound. He was a twisted, evil audio genius. He was crazy and so into what he did on a micro level," said Evans, referencing at least obliquely the album's often overwhelming negative space, best heard in the long, faraway intro and subsequent eruption of focus on "The Turtle Which Died Before Knowing."

Other subtle, genius moments were entirely due to chance. On some songs, different takes were mixed together and the resulting edits created things that thrilled everyone in the control room. "A couple of those moments where the vibrato on the guitar shifts patterns -- we couldn't have planned that, but that's the thing! We were open not necessarily to it being correct, but to it being right for what it was," Heasley said.

Other moments betrayed the quieter vibe with sheer power. "The Hermit Crab," "Kodiak (Reprise)" and "Radiotricity" all rock in places, despite being composed mostly with clean, bass string strums. Costey explains that the amping of the guitars went a long way in lending huge power to a quiet source, "One simple thing Kurt was doing with his guitar sounds at the time was to run two different tremolo pedals into two different amps," he said, "It's really simple, of course, but it made for an off-kilter, drunken, gurgling guitar sound that completely shaped the feel of the record."

Elsewhere, such as on the down-tempo lullaby-pop of "Day Of The Monkey," Costey sampled Evans' drums to create a hypnotic loop, later adding room recordings of him playing along to himself to add to the overall sonic fantasia.

The collaborative aspect between the four also played a key role in the shape of the album. "He had done Swirlies records," said Heasley of Costey, "So I was like 'throw me whatever note you think should be in this melody.' I think you can only do so many records where that special and fun ability exists."

As the sessions wrapped up, it was also clear that the process of achieving the album's menthol-cool psychedelia had thoroughly exhausted Heasley. Much of the tracking came down to the wire, and many of his vocal parts had to be recorded at the end in a prolonged series of takes.

"I spent the final 18 hours of tracking in the vocal booth," Heasley recalled, "By the time we were working on "Hubble" I was completely drained by the process, from all these different drives that went into the album. You can hear me crying at one point. I couldn't even stand, I was propped in a chair." Costey, aware of the strain and the reality of the moment, let the tape run. What followed was personal, uncomfortable and brilliant.

It's apparent when Heasley talks about "Hubble" that the song is special to him, referring to it as the closing sequence of the booster of the space shuttle falling to Earth. More importantly, it's a fitting end to the hyper-productive sessions that produced a collection of songs that were not only spacey-sounding, but physically so. Costey took the tapes to Water Studios in Hoboken, New Jersey and Philip Glass' The Looking Glass studio in New York for the rest of the post-production. There, he added many of the synth textures and final mixing details. SpinART had the album out by the end of the year.

And then... it was over.

"Kurt moved to California, I believe, shortly after we made the record," said Evan. "I feel like nobody really got it, understood it or appreciated it when it came out." No shows were played to support the release, which somehow makes the recording all the more mythical.

Within a year, Heasley transformed Lilys into the mod-rock powerhouse that would define the next phase of the group, with songs like "Nanny In Manhattan" (a version of which was recorded during the Eccsame sessions but lost with the master tapes) broadening the exposure of the band and leading to a record deal with Sire. Evans would continue a successful run as the frontman of indie pop savants Poole, an act that also recorded for spinART. Lastly, Costey would use his resume with bands from the East Coast dream-pop and 'gaze scene to begin work in Los Angeles, eventually engineering and producing a seemingly endless list of big-name musical personalities including Sigur Ros, Fiona Apple, Nine Inch Nails, Muse, Foo Fighters and self-professed Swirlies fans Mew, among many others.

Despite the very abrupt end to the Eccsame phase of Lilys, and the scattering of its participants, it is apparent that the three remember the time in the studio fondly, and all have an unshakable faith in the final product.

"I felt pretty good about the album when we had finished it," Costey adds, "It seemed fresh, inventive, and colorful. Kurt's writing isn't miles away from Syd Barrett territory, but as opposed to Syd, Kurt's lyrics were open and personal. I had hoped that it would be recognized a bit more for what I felt was something pretty unique at that time: Psychedelic indie with heavy fuzz, samplers, and 808s -- but it seemed to never really get the attention it deserved. Kurt went straight to The Kinks' Muswell Hillbillies [as the template] for his next album and finally had his talent recognized, but in the process it had always felt to me that Eccsame was just overlooked."

Most importantly though, the sense of trust between the album's principals appears to be the most defining and memorable part of the era. Listening to Evans and Heasley, in particular, speak of their relationship during that time illuminates a connection between kindred souls, a pair determined to create and build as a unit.

"I could never have that kind of naive trust again. You basically get [it] once." Heasley added somberly.

At times during this reflection, it shows that both might harbor some desire to work together again. In the age of '90s dream-pop band reunions, with acts including Slowdive, Medicine, Ride and My Bloody Valentine thrilling audiences once more, it wouldn't be seem that unusual for an influential lineup of Lilys to get back together, hopefully even for new music.

"He knows that I'm willing to work with him anywhere, anytime. At the drop of a hat, I'm in," Evans proclaimed, ever the dedicated bandmate, ignoring the thousands of miles between them.

That possibility is a dream for this blog, at least, and it is dreaming big that brought together those men in 1994 -- hedging their bets on chance and understanding. But big dreams can live on in unusual ways, and funny enough, it is because of the Lilys that this scribe first spoke to this editor at Clicky Clicky some five years ago. And, because of all of that, it has ultimately brought you, dear reader, to what may not yet be the final chapter in the story of a very special and evolving piece of art.

"Behold and open to the light."

Currently, Eccsame The Photon Band is out of print (spinART folded in 2007), and both CD and vinyl copies command steep prices in the collectors' market. Heasley has been negotiating the reissue of In The Presence Of Nothing and two other unspecified titles, and also the release of new music, according to news we reported here in March. Through the murky magic of the Internet, you can listen to selections from Eccsame via the YouTube playlist posted below. -- Edward Charlton



SELECTED PREVIOUS COVERAGE:
In Bloom: Lilys Poised For Massive Resurgence; New Music, Reissues And Live Performances Planned
That Was The Show That Was: Lilys with Prefab Messiahs | Lilypad | 15 June
That Was The Show That Was: Lilys | Lilypad | 25 May
A N D I F O R G O T A L O N G T I M E A G O H O W Y O U F E E L : ten now acts perform selections from the early recordings of Lilys, 1991-1995
20: Lilys | In The Presence Of Nothing
Today's Hotness: Lilys
YouTube Rodeo: Lilys' Amazing "YCJCYAQFTD," "A Nanny In Manhattan," "Baby's A Dealer"
Footage: Lorelei Cover Lilys' "February 14th" | Slumberland 20th Anniversary
Today's Hotness: Lilys
Today's Hotness: Lilys
750 Times The Same Song: It's All About The Lilys

Turning Gold: The Clicky Clicky Interview With Golden Gurls' Andrew Mabry

[Photo Credit: Patrick McCann] Earlier this year Baltimore-based indie upstarts Golden Gurls seemed to drop out of the sky like a house onto a witch, sporting an inexplicably well-conceived and awesome debut long-player [review]. But shoot the breeze with fronter and guitarist Andrew Mabry for hours as we've done in recent weeks, and it is apparent that the excellent Typo Magic is the product of decades of music-making, music fandom and immersion in ancillary underground culture. Mr. Mabry has put in the hours: if Indie Rock was a Fortune 500 company, CEO Ira Kaplan would have given him a gold watch for his service years ago. From his early days in Michigan to his current turf in Baltimore, from clerking record stores and pursuing skateboarding to stints in bands including post-rockers Moscow Telephone and Left Channels, Mabry has done the band thing, the music thing, the life thing. His is a musical world view shaped by the greats, Unwound, Polvo, Seam, and on and on and on. And it's all led up to Golden Gurls and where the band is now, Van treads on Typo Magic but fingers stretched out in the direction of a planned sophomore set whose recording will begin later this year. The trio will be in Boston Friday anchoring a stellar bill at Radio in Somerville during the recurring Tiger Mountain dance party. We put a bunch of questions to Mabry recently to learn where his band was coming from and where it will go. We strongly encourage you to get out to see Golden Gurls this Friday, on an epic bill with Connecticut rockers Suicide Dolls and local heroes Soccer Mom and Infinity Girl.

Clicky Clicky: One thing I never really got to the bottom of when reviewing the record: where does the title come from? Is it just a reference to the misspelling in Gurls?

Andrew Mabry: Typo Magic is a reference to any typo that is just so magical you leave it in the text. I have done it so many times at work (I type like crap) and on my cellphone that I pushed for that to be the title, and, yes, I felt like it was only fitting considering how we're spelling the name of our band.

CC: So, kind of like painter Bob Ross' "happy accidents" then. Do you embrace chance in either composing or recording your music -- I'm sure I'm misusing the term here, but kind of like John Cage's "chance operations?" Or is your approach to songwriting fairly formalized?

AM: Well, actually we write our songs to be more open-ended, some of them are more set in stone like "Tidal," and others like "End Of The War" war are sort of ever-evolving in structure. We wrote "Double Negatives" in the studio, that song was just a riff I was playing around with that happened really fast and we liked it enough to put it on the record.

CC: Here's one I always like asking songwriters, because back when I was writing songs I felt like you could never tell whether what you liked would translate. So, the question: do you know when you've written a great hook?

AM: A great hook is totally subjective, [but] I know for sure when I have written something that I would have listened to over and over again at some point in my life. In a general sense, those are the songs I try my hardest to finish and use on our recordings. "Kid Tested," for example, I love that end riff, it really reminds me of so many other things yet none of them at all.

CC: I feel like between "The Wire," that show about cake, and acts like Dan Deacon and Lower Dens, Baltimore has been enjoying an unprecedented cultural relevance in the last five years. Is there any way to account for that, or is it just all serendipity?

AM: Well, this is a hard question to answer. I know a lot of people who play in other bands in Baltimore, this city has a lot of music in it. Lower Dens are just sort of on their own out there. Well, I suppose you can toss Wye Oak in with them. Both of those bands are super talented, but they are totally on their own in terms of sound and what they go after in songwriting. As for "The Wire," I don't know how accurately it portrays this city, as I was never that into it, [although] a good friend of mine's father was in the show. Ace Of Cakes? Or Cake? If there is a cake show that's news to me!

CC: Have you lived in or around Baltimore all of your life? Do you have any recollection of that scene comp Baltimore: The City That Breeds that came out in 1993? There are some great jams on there.

AM: I actually grew up in Detroit, where there were a lot bands influencing me all the time. I know some of those bands on the compilation, though. One of the guys from Next Step Up lives a block over from me. I see the guitarist from Candy Machine around my neighborhood from time to time. Liquor Bike, now that's a band I haven't thought of in years.

CC: What were some of the kind of street-level Detroit acts that inspired you to do what you do? You know, bands that maybe never broke out, but still made you feel like, hey, I can do this music thing.

AM: The bands growing up that really made me feel like anything was possible would be Versus (Teenbeat, Caroline, etc.) [and] His Name is Alive. I used to see [His Name Is Alive's] Warn [Defever] a lot, and talk to him whenever about just about anything musical, and he was totally kind. It's doubtful he would have any recollection of me, but still, what a nice guy. I think back on him in that era and how he was doing recordings with people from the Pale Saints, Ida, Retsin and so on, literally four miles from where I grew up. Another one that comes to mind is Fred Thomas from Saturday Looks Good To Me, seriously one of the nicest guys ever. Watching him take that project from just a solo sort of acoustic thing recorded on a 4-track to where it went was pretty amazing. I was also really into Eric's Trip, I am not sure that I can call them local to me since they were from Moncton, but I definitely saw them often and they left a huge mark on my idea of being in a band. Others I won't go into too much detail on [were] Windy And Carl, Mahogany, Majesty Crush, so on and so forth.

CC: Without going into all the details of how it all came together, I think it is pretty awesome that so many Boston bands were trying to get you on their show for the night you were in town, to the extent that two shows were combined to make it all happen. Is it possible Golden Gurls are more popular in Boston than in Baltimore?

AM: To be honest, I am not sure about that. Is it possible? Certainly. Our entire last year has been this uphill fight with personnel changes, finishing the record, playing shows, trying to have fun with it all.

CC: How much touring have you been able to do behind Typo Magic? Is the trip to Boston part of a set of dates, or is it a one-off? I know your personal life is about to get pretty busy for a while, but are you considering mounting a larger tour to support the record, or are you already looking forward to making the next one?

AM: We haven't played many shows since the record came out. For a while, in 2011, we played all the time, but it dropped off as we got more and more involved with finishing our record. It was a seriously labor-intensive project that took a lot out of us. When we finally put the record out in May we didn't have a bassist and that put a damper on things, not to mention our drummer lives about 2 hours away from where we practice, which is also always difficult to work around. We have an awesome bass player now, though, and we're really happy with everything he has brought to the band. We are playing a few more shows in October and trying to do a few dates in the midwest in the fall. [But] the Boston show is a one off, we have been wanting to play Boston for the better part of a year, but never could pull a show together. This show is exactly what we wanted. Infinity Girl and Soccer Mom are both so awesome. The next record is already scheduled to be recorded in November. I am not sure when it will be finished, but I know we will start it then. We're taking a more personal approach with the follow-up and doing a lot of it at home, but we're using the same engineer we used previously because he's literally the greatest guy we know of to work with. On top of that, he knows exactly what we want out of our recordings.

CC: I know you have a lot of material leftover from writing Typo Magic, because you've told me. Are you the kind of songwriter that will keep that stuff around and use it, or do you mothball stuff that gets stale in favor of newer, fresher stuff you're writing. Are any of the tracks on Typo Magic particularly old?

AM: Typo Magic has songs that span about a two-year period of writing on it. Some of the songs are older, for instance I believe "Kid Tested" is one of the first songs we ever wrote which would make it over 2 years old. Some of the other ones came later like "Tidal," "Excited" and "Providence." I don't like to let songs go unless they really don't fit our sound, that happens from time to time but in general I keep them and continue working on them.

CC: Typo Magic is one of my favorite records of the year, I'm psyched to see you guys play up here. Thanks for taking time out to talk with the blog, Andrew.

AM: Thanks for asking me to do this interview. And thanks for the kind words about our record, it really makes us happy to have it out there and that anyone even listens to it.

Golden Gurls perform at Tiger Mountain Friday night at Radio in Somerville with Suicide Dolls, Soccer Mom and Infinity Girl. Check out a live video of Golden Gurls' "End Of The War," captured in August at Ottobar in Baltimore. Typo Magic is available as a limited-edition CD or name-your-own-price download from Bandcamp right here.