Grand Archives - The harmony of the provinces

However low-key he may be, Mat Brooke, leader of Grand Archives, is without doubt one of the leading figures on Seattle's current scene. After fifteen years of experience, always at the highest level, he stands as an older brother of sorts, a wise and shadowy figure to be regarded with a certain reverence. His music, from the days of Carissa's Wierd through the brief stint with Band Of Horses (in which he left an indelible mark), has in recent years found its footing with Grand Archives under the banner of the contradictions that have always followed him. Chiaroscuros that look out onto the blackest despair on one side and the most genuinely carefree Yankee spirit on the other, formal restraint alternating with intensity and power… Mat Brooke received us shortly before his show at "Casa 139" in Milan, which went ahead despite voice problems having forced him to cancel the previous date in Barcelona. 

Let's start with a simple question. "Keep In Mind Frankenstein" (the title of the new album, ed.): is it just a reference to the different souls that coexist on the record, or is there something more you're trying to tell us?

No… It became a sort of running joke among friends, while we were in the recording studio, about the idea of an Igor putting a song together by stitching different parts together. Whatever it ends up becoming in the end… That's all it is: a silly joke.

I read that you were at Index, in the mountains near Seattle, to record the album, and that a lot of funny things happened there. You wrote songs in the middle of the night with a ukulele, visited haunted places, built strange instruments with your own hands… Do you have a story to tell us?

It's nice, you know, when you're recording, to get out of the city, up into the mountains. You bring along air rifles, shoot at beer cans and have fun… Barbecue, every night. Sometimes we stayed up all night recording, until the sun came up. There's no interference from the outside world. If we want to stay up all night, we can, because there's no work waiting for us in the morning. A whole month of vacation to focus on the record.

About your work, I wanted to ask you about your bar in Seattle, the Redwood. It seems like something more than just a job… At the very least, it seems a bit strange that a musician would give up playing, at least in part, to open a bar. Am I wrong?

Actually, no. The only two talents I have are making music and running a bar. There was a place near where I live, it was up for rent, and I thought the time was right. I had a couple of other friends and we decided to team up and open a bar together. Nothing fancy, but yes, I like it a lot. It's definitely one of my favorite things to do.

I also read that you had some trouble with the neighbors, over the noise… I imagine that's pretty normal.

It is… It took a year, but now we're friends, the neighbors and us. They come to our bar.

Or at least they're not using people outside the place for target practice… Getting back to your record, it seems to me you've changed your sound a bit. Maybe you've gone back to the earlier stuff in your career, and at the same time, maybe you're moving closer to what you have in mind for Grand Archives.

We didn't actually go into the studio with the intention of building a particular sound. We recorded quite a lot of material, around 20 songs. A lot of them were upbeat, a lot were more "delicate". We were in the middle of winter: at that time, the quieter tracks sounded better to us. So we went to our label (SubPop, ed.), played them everything we had, and they told us: "We like the quieter ones". That's also where the fact that the first album was more pop comes from.

It was recorded in summer… A matter of season, then (he chuckles and confirms, ed.). Your first album was full of characters and, with them, particular stories. Like that of Louis Riel, the controversial Canadian politician, or George Kaminski, prisoner and four-leaf clover collector. The main character of "Keep In Mind Frankenstein" seems to be Topsy (who appears in the opening track, "Topsy's Revenge", ed.). His story, I imagine, is well known in the United States but not in Italy, as far as I know. Do you want to tell us about it?

Sure. It's a terrible story. We're in New York, Coney Island, a big carnival. They had these elephants that were being mistreated. One day, the trainer put out a cigarette on one of the elephants' tongues (Topsy, ed.), at which point I guess the elephant had had enough, so much so that it crushed him under its foot. The trainer died, and so they decided they'd have to put the elephant down. They tried to hang it, but that didn't work. Then they tried to poison it, but that didn't work either. At that point Thomas Edison showed up and killed it by electrocution. That's more or less the basis of the song.

When and how does his “revenge” happen (“Topsy’s Revenge”, ed.)?

A few days later. Mysteriously, something knocked over a barrel of oil and a few things caught fire. A lot of people like to think that was “Topsy’s revenge”.

The other character we meet is “the Oslo novelist” (from the song “Oslo Novelist”, ed.). Who is that?

I don’t know (laughs, ed.). Completely made up. I’d like it to be based on someone real, but it’s free association.

I noticed that, on your Myspace page, you’re listed as belonging to the “Grunge/ Grunge/ grunge” genre (laughs, ed.). Are you serious, in the sense of belonging to Seattle and all that, or is it more of a joke?

No, no, it’s just a kind of running joke in Seattle. The city, of course, spent many years living under the shadow of grunge, so now we look back on those times with a bit of sarcasm.

Speaking of the Seattle scene, you’ve been playing there for more than a few years now. What do you think of what Seattle is today, in the music world? Do you follow the bands? Do you think something new is happening? From your “vantage point”, I mean…

When you’re immersed in Seattle life, it always seems like something’s going on. There’s a whole army of record labels and clubs. It always feels like a dozen new bands pop up every week. Every now and then one of them manages to break through outside Seattle and the surrounding area, but it’s hard to keep track of who’s doing well and who isn’t.

Who’s “doing well”, in your opinion?

Oh, that’s hard to say.

Can I suggest a name?

I guess you’d say “Fleet Foxes”. They’re doing pretty well, yeah. Those guys work hard and I think they’re doing quite well, so… That’s cool.

I think all your records, over the years, have always had a strong singer-songwriter “pull” to them. Have you ever thought about picking up a guitar and starting a solo career?

Umm… I don’t think that would be especially fun. It’s a lot more fun to have your friends on stage with you and write through collaboration. It seems to me that doing it alone would get… boring.

So, I have a thorny question. Have you come up with an explanation for why Carissa’s Wierd (Mat’s first band, ed.) never broke through? Was it just bad luck? I ask because I find those records exceptional, so much so that chaos seems like the only possible explanation to me. What do you think, what was your feeling, back then?

We were young. We probably sabotaged ourselves, most of the time. At a certain point, some labels had shown interest, but we had a "young" kind of ethic. In the end, we shot ourselves in the foot every chance we got. Even so, it was a great time. Everyone who was part of the band has since gone on to do something else, musically. By the way, all the records (by Carissa's Wierd, ed.) are going to be reissued.

That's exactly what I wanted to ask you (with a lump in the throat, ed.).

Yes. A record label called "Hardly Art," a subsidiary of SubPop, will reissue all the records. This year.

That's wonderful, because those records are pretty much impossible to find... As for the fruits that the former members of Carissa's Wierd are reaping as a result of that experience: you all still collaborate. Jenn is here (Jenn Ghetto; with her project, S., she's opening for Grand Archives on this tour, ed.), you formed Band Of Horses with Ben (Ben Bridwell, singer and now leader of the group, ed.), Sera Cahoone appears on your recent records and vice versa... I see you all as a larger entity that's still solidly connected. Is that right?

Yes, definitely. With the exception of Ben, we all still live in Seattle. We probably see each other at least two or three times a week. Seattle is a pretty small city, as far as the music community goes. Whenever anyone from Carissa's Wierd has a new project going or is in the studio, we usually reach out to each other and collaborate. It's a really nice thing. Seattle has always been a welcoming home for us.

Will you be playing any of the old songs tonight?

You mean Carissa's Wierd songs? I'm not sure, we'll see if there's time left. Look, when the records get reissued, the first one will be out in June, and we'll be doing a reunion show in Seattle. That will be the first time (in a long time, ed.) we'll all be on stage playing together (Jenn will later confide that a full-on tour could follow that show, ed.).

OK, I think that's everything. Thanks so much, and have a great show.

Oh, thank you.

The Milan audience, though it doesn't fill the venue, gives Grand Archives a welcome that's not just respectful but genuinely warm, as befits a live show that's genuine and played with passion. The evening opens, as already mentioned, with a set from Jenn Ghetto: her project S. picks up and pushes even further the sadcore leanings found in Carissa's Wierd, with a stripped-down sound built around voice and two guitars weaving arpeggios together. What's surprising, though, is how engaging she is, putting together a varied live set made up of songs that keep struggling against themselves, often escaping the clichés of the genre she's working in. Grand Archives come on right after and present their new album with a heavy mix of the "hits" that filled their debut. Mat's voice is certainly not at its best, but his skill and experience let him mask problems that would stop others from performing at all. What stands out, instead, is the absence of the trusty Ron Lewis, who left the band for fellow Seattleites Shins - you really notice it when the vocal harmonies fail to land the way they should. All small imperfections that don't stop Grand Archives from being fun and engaging, moving between faithful renditions and interesting, more muscular reworkings, like the one of "Willoughby." A lovely evening: you'd sign off on it any day, if only they could all be like this.

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