Email this article | Printer friendly page Secret MachinesBy Alex Rawls and Richard Giraldi |
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Secret Machines formed in Dallas, but the band developed and made its name while based in New York City, and it became an object of fascination when David Bowie and Bono expressed their affection for the band after it released its debut, Now Here is Nowhere in 2004. The band has brought a sense of spectacle to music, with a rich, involved light show accompanying songs that stretch out well past typical pop song lengths. That trend continues on the band’s second album, Ten Silver Drops, where vocalist/bassist Brandon Curtis, brother/guitarist Ben Curtis and drummer Josh Garza made lengthier, luxuriously textured music. According to Brandon, it doesn’t happen by accident.
The new album seems so refreshing right now because it’s so different from a lot of rock and pop being made these days.
Aesthetically I think, I see what we do as a reflection of the three of our personalities and the three of us in a room. I just hear it being more personal than it being some kind of reaction to whatever contemporary music. It feels more like us than some sort of ideal.
How do songs end up seven or eight minutes long?
I think songs need to be long enough to say what they need to say. For us, it’s kind of how we do it. I guess in some ways it’s like, what’s the rush? Why does it have to be done in three minutes? Historically, the reason why songs were that long is because that is how long a 78 record lasted. It is an antiquated notion that songs have to be three-and-a-half minutes. The idea behind a radio song being a certain length has to do with playlists and a number of songs per hour, and it tries to deal with advertising revenue. It has nothing to do with the actual point of music.
You could work within the limitations of the art, and say, “Well, we’re only going to work with and paint on 8-and-a-half by 11 sheets of lined paper” because that’s what everybody writes on. I think there is room for 11 by 17 paper, too.
I agree. I like long pieces.
There are some things you just don’t want to end. Like if it feels good and the mood is right, why you do you want it to be over so soon?
Long songs let a mood develop.
Yeah. With the staging and the presentation, we’re going for an immersive quality. My favorite films, my favorite books and my favorite music have the sense of being surrounded by something and not being able to see the end of it. Feeling like you’re totally floating. In psychedelic music, that’s the appeal for me.
I get the feeling you have a different notion of “psychedelic” from many. What are some records you think of as great psychedelic records?
I think the first Neu! record is really psychedelic. For me, it’s music in which the mood has a boundless quality or endless feeling. Tago Mago, Ege Bamyasi, Future Days (all by Can) are really psychedelic. Kraftwerk has really psychedelic moments in the timelessness and restrictiveness in the sound that they generate. It still has a psychedelic quality just as much as Gong.
Psychedelic music also can come from very thought out, methodical compositions if you have someone like Terry Riley’s In C or Steve Reich. Reich’s Different Trains is really psychedelic in a pure, classical kind of way. LaMonte Young writes really psychedelic music, even in it’s minimalist state. I have a really unconventional way of defining psychedelic music. It’s not just (Pink Floyd’s) Piper At The Gates of Dawn and a few things in 1967.
You guys tap into the beauty of repetition.
Yeah, I love that. I think it’s not just in music, too. There are really great paintings and really great sculptures by people who do things in series and sets, and repetition is something that creates the mood and makes a psychological impact on you. It simply could be psychedelic.
Obviously, you’ve connected that with your stage performance.
The thing is, when you play live you have to control all of the variables that you are given. Live you have control of the volume, you have control of the lights, and that’s you’re problem when playing live. How do you create an immersive experience? How do you do something and make an impact given the tools that you have?
You don’t talk much onstage.
No we don’t. For me personally if I felt like I had something to say, I would say it. It just never occurs to me to have anything worth adding.
Do you remember much about your experience at last year’s Voodoo?
Yeah, it was really cool.
Just being there within such a short time of Hurricane Katrina was a profound experience. Driving down the street and seeing the waterline on the houses, and talking to people there who were in a constant state of recovery. They were spending all their waking hours in clean up and salvaging state of mind. Then for us to come in and be a part of something that so pointless and ridiculous as music, it made me feel like it was an important thing to do. When you are dealing with issues of life and death and recovery and salvaging your life, the whole reason you would ever do that is to have pointless experiences like rock ’n’ roll concerts or art or music or film or whatever.
Did you drive in or fly in?
We flew in, then driving in from the airport we went around the city. We got a little bit of a tour.
It was remarkable how empty the city was last October.
What a horrible thing. I have friends that live there and people who lost their homes. It was an unbelievable, unfortunate situation. We stayed right downtown and it was such a shock. The guy who picked us up from the airport was telling us how he lost everything that he owned, and in the same breath he was happy and really looking forward to the show. And it was kind of fucked up, you know? But it was still great.
Published November 2006, OffBeat Louisiana Music & Culture Magazine, Volume 19, No. 11.
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