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A Real to Reel Interview
Titus Andronicus

A Pitchfork Music Festival preview, and a talk with the fest’s most anticipated band (according to Dan anyway)

By Dan Ochwat

Officially a Chicago tradition, the Pitchfork Music Festival takes over Union Park, July 18-20. Eclectic and the epitome of cool, the music weekend is presented by the Chicago-based webzine Pitchforkmedia.com.

Here’s a brief roundup of who to see, along with an interview with the frontman of Titus Andronicus, a breakout band that’s tapped to play Saturday. Titus Andronicus is a smart, rollicking, modern punk band from New Jersey. Their debut album, “The Airing of Grievances,” is my early fave of the year. Below, read about the meaning behind the band’s namesake hit song; then, try to tell me you’re not interested.

 

Pitchfork Music Festival

Friday
Like last year, three acts will play their seminal albums live, front to back, headlined by the legends Public Enemy, who will play “It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back.” Sebadoah and Mission of Burma fill out the night.

Saturday
The lineup intertwines some heavy crowd favorites such as Vampire Weekend, The Hold Steady and !!! with nearly two headliners in Animal Collective (arguably the most influential indie band of the 2000s) and Jarvis Cocker (a Brit dynamo since the ’70s), and finally, sprinkles in industry-topping, new-age rock bands in Titus Andronicus, No Age, Jay Reatard and Atlas Sound. Other fantastic acts of note: the laid-back Sub Poppers Fleet Foxes, The Ruby Suns and the brilliant Caribou.

Sunday
A wild mix of acts take shape from easy listening M. Ward to the insanity of Wu Tang’s Ghostface and Raekwon to the even more insane Les Savy Fav. All three should put on a show, along with headliners Spoon and Dinosaur Jr. However, under the radar, the true easy-listening and brilliant Bon Iver is a not-to-miss performance, similarly The Dodos and Dirty Projectors. Japanese noise band Boris sneaks in on Sunday, as does noise band HEALTH. Finally, with horns and an old-sound flavor, King Khan & the Shrines should be an excellent show.

More than 40 acts play the fest, all bands touted by Pitchfork, including Titus Andronicus, who earned an 8.5 rating and a Best New Music tag. I couldn’t quantify this band. I can only say Liam Betson, Andrew Cedermark, Ian Graetzer, Eric Harm, Patrick Stickles and Dan Tews truly are riotous and wonderful, playing music steeped in tragedy that makes you feel so damn good.

I sent questions to Stickles over the internets.

Q: Have you guys played Chicago before?

A: We played Chicago twice last summer. The first was at South Union Arts with our buddies Hallelujah the Hills from Boston, Monster Everywhere and the Metroids. That was a lot of fun, particularly since it was in an amazing neon church, and the people were really nice. There was even an older couple spending their anniversary there for no obvious reason. Wonderful.

The second night was at the Town Hall Pub with the Daily Void, which was not as much fun because we had to put our drummer on a plane to Ukraine earlier in the day, leaving our third guitar player to play the drums, which he did not do very well, even though he is a nice guy. Also, we had to drive all the way back to Jersey for 16 straight hours the following day.

Q: Have you played outdoor festivals like Pitchfork before? My fear is how loud can you really get outside?

A: I share that fear too, although my buddies and I went to Pitchfork Festival once and The Walkmen were gloriously loud, louder than anytime I had seen them indoors, so it may be OK.

Q: Hanging out backstage with an unlimited supply of beer seems reason enough to play Pitchfork, but are there any bands in particular that you’re looking forward to seeing?

A: I am very excited to see Ghostface and Raekwon, because I have always really loved Wu-Tang Clan, but their concerts are always prohibitively expensive. The thought of seeing Dinosaur Jr. also has me quite tickled, as does the thought of seeing Jarvis Cocker. I guess I just love the ’90s.

I should say, though, that if I knew for sure that Les Savy Fav was going to play their cover of “Wrong” by Archers of Loaf, my answer to this question would be quite different. Also, we just played with HEALTH last night and they were really massive, so we shall see if lightning can strike twice.

Q: You read parts of Shakespeare’s play “Titus Andronicus” on the album. It’s a nice touch. Are you literary majors, actors, or is it just a cool gimmick — violent play, violent music?

A: Myself, my man VU Boots, and my man Andrew are all English majors, this is true, but we haven’t done any theater since high school. The thing is, I came of age listening to a lot of rap, and rap albums always had all manner of skits and monologues and samples from movie dialogue and stuff like that, which I always thought was the coolest, especially all that kung fu stuff on “Enter the Wu Tang.”

The violent element, though, is definitely something that makes our band name more appealing to us than, say, “The Merry Wives of Windsor.” “Titus Andronicus” the play is really not very good by Shakespeare standards, but it was certainly a serious throwdown.

Q: Do we get any live readings on stage?

A: Do rappers do their skits on stage? Actually, that is a bad answer, because it would be awesome if they did. Imagine De La Soul doing that game show skit from “3 Feet High and Rising”? That would have been something. So, simply, no. No live readings.

Although, we are playing in Los Angeles this August, where our friend Doug Johnson, who did the reading from “Titus Andronicus” on our album, now lives, so maybe we will see.

Q: With harmonica, horns and occasional background vocals, to me, it sounds like you guys play straight New Jersey rock rhythms but incredibly amped up. Why does everything sound better faster and screaming?

A: “Amping things up,” as you say, is something of a Jersey rock tradition. If you look closely at the music of Bruce Springsteen, you will find that none of his songs, at their core, both musically and thematically, are that far removed from “Louie Louie” or “Wooly Bully,” or whatever. But, they have been oversaturated and stretched far beyond their logical conclusions.

We are trying to do that same with punk, I suppose. I guess you could say we are trying to do for the Misfits what Bruce tried to do for Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Jersey rocks!

Q: The amazing accomplishment: You write songs that are mired in tragedy but make you feel good.

A: The idea is what they used to call “Existential Revolt.” Yes, our lives mean nothing, or rather, no one has provided meaning for us. We have all been abandoned, as [Soren] Kierkegaard would say.

OK, that sucks, but rather than mope about, it is our responsibility to create that meaning for ourselves. We all mean nothing, but we’re not going to take it lying down, so to speak. So, therefore, let’s party. Know what I’m saying?

Q: You’ve probably answered this countless times, but your voice does sound similar to Conor Oberst, albeit a screaming Oberst as if he just watched his parents murdered. What’s your answer to this?

A: You know, this used to bother me a lot more than it currently does. At first, it was very frustrating that Conor Oberst would come up in every single review of our album or whatever — not because I dislike his music, mind you. In fact, I used to listen to Bright Eyes a great deal back in high school. But, I mean, even Silver Jews got a couple of write-ups that didn’t talk about Pavement.

The more I thought about it though, I much prefer getting compared to him all the time than being compared to somebody who doesn’t clearly care as much about what he or she is doing. What I am trying to say is, I would much rather be criticized for really laying it on the line than be praised for being too cool for school, like so many bands I can think of. Kids today, they make themselves look so tough and hip and beyond everything, but really, they are just terrified of making themselves look vulnerable. Pathetic, I say, all this postmodern, hyper-ironic posturing that so many of the kids do. You are humans, I say — act accordingly! Have feelings!

Q: The anthem “Titus Andronicus,” is one I cheekily call the pregnancy song because of the lyrics: “No more cigarettes, no more having sex, no more drinking ’til you fall on the floor, no more indie rock ... your life is over, your life is over...” Realistically, it seems more like a tortured artist song. What’s the meaning behind it?

A: In the tradition of great TV fathers, I will answer your question with a story. Back in January, we played in Durham, N.C. with the world’s greatest band, Spider Bags. That night, we stayed with the greatest living American songwriter, Dan McGee, and in the morning, he played us a record by a band called Strapping Fieldhands, who I had never previously heard. Dan McGee is some years older than we are, and this record was from the mid-1990s, so I asked him how it was that I had never heard of Strapping Fieldhands. I assumed, and he confirmed, that there was a time when a good amount of people cared about them. He also answered by saying that, “There are no more Rolling Stones,” meaning that people no longer grow old with their favorite bands.

There inevitably will come a time in almost any indie rocker’s life that they are going to more or less forget about all the bands that they once cared about so deeply and likely abandon all the values that they have held so close to their hearts. Eventually, there comes a day when we all have to put on a tie and listen to, oh, I don't know, Norah Jones.

I wrote “Titus Andronicus” some years prior to that, thinking about much the same things — our band will certainly have a very short shelf life and be wholly forgotten before I am ready to fully forget. Thinking like this makes me wonder as to the purpose or the legitimacy behind what we are doing as a band, and what I am doing as a person — does any of it mean anything? Today, I am a punk, and I put my fist in the air and fall all over myself and bash around an electric guitar and I think to be very much “alive.” I care about things, you know? Or, I think that I do.

Sooner or later, though, the world is going to take all that away from me, and I will assume my rightful place as a cog in the machine. I will devote my entire existence to just being comfortable. I will profit from the hardships of those less fortunate than myself. I will become what Dr. King would see as the worst kind of scum, a good person who does nothing. I will likely turn into what we in Titus Andronicus refer to as “The Enemy.” I don’t want any of these things to happen, of course, but man, I feel more weary each and every day.

My old man likes to point out that when I try and get a job as a schoolteacher, they are going to Google me and learn that, some years prior, I said the “F-word” in a very public fashion. I am not convinced this will happen, but I worry and find myself second-guessing the things that come out of my mouth — even though I believe that human beings are entirely too dishonest and affected.

My arms are too short to box with God, friend, so where do I get off now spouting my punk rhetoric and engaging in all this rabble-rousing and sloganeering? I am just a man, and men, and women (and transgenders), were born to die — not the death where they put you in the ground (though that is waiting too), but the death where all the things that made you “you” get stripped away and you are just a walking corpse, just another vessel that the world uses to promote its warped and horrible agenda.

When we sing, “Your life is over,” the horror must come from the fact that your time on this earth is actually far from complete, and that you must wade through the muck and mire, robbed of everything that you love or care for, for all your remaining days. You will “live,” in the biological sense, but as I see it now, such a life is no better, and likely much worse, than death. Anyway, I am rambling, and Jeff Lewis explains these concepts a lot better in (the song) “Williamsburg Will Oldham Horror.” Sorry.

Q: What was the thought process behind the lo-fi production of the album? Many of the better albums recently share this, like No Age. It’s more of a raw sound.

A: The thought process went something like this — “All right, finished the record. Time to have it mastered. Oh, there isn’t any money left? OK, nevermind.” I like four-tracks as much as the next guy, but there was never the intention to make a “lo-fi” record. If there was, we wouldn’t have spent untold thousands recording the damn thing. I guess that isn't a very “cool” answer, but it is true. Let’s put it this way — I would have much rather made “Nevermind” than “Bleach.”

Q: The album has this chaotic energy. What can we expect to see at Pitchfork?

A: If anything, that album is too tame! We must look at every concert appearance as an opportunity to really rage. In reality, though, you can expect to see six guys who had just been up all night in Bloomington (Ind.) and are probably way too burned out to do anything remotely exciting.

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