"I'm like an excavator finding the shape of a song"
Edition 20: Interview with musician Brandon Wilde
Brandon Wilde playing with the band ‘Black Bunny’ at Rockwood Music Hall, New York (image courtesy of Brandon Wilde)
Everyone has a soundtrack, and if you’re like me — romantic about movies, prone to nostalgia, and a little narcissistic — you have probably daydreamed about what songs you might like to accompany a biopic of your trajectory from innocence to adulthood. (Richard Linklater has a lot to answer for.)
My parents are 60s kids; now Boomers with a healthy LP collection. We played a lot of music growing up. Before I saw their cover art, I thought Tina Turner was a man and MJ was a girl, and loved them both equally. I marveled at the psychedelic sleeve for Dad’s Cream album and the weird sounds it emitted. And, above all else, The Beatles were the heartbeat of my childhood — so ingrained were their melodies and lyrics in everyday life that I couldn’t comprehend how masterful they were at the time.
In turn, I came of age (whatever that means) during the height of Britpop* in the UK: watching weekly battles between Blur and Oasis on ‘Top of the Pops’, making out with boys at house parties with The Verve in the background, and jumping anarchically in village halls to Garbage and Kenickie. It was a heady, guitar-heavy time.
*For the purposes of completeness, I should say that Drum & Bass was also exploding, and Roni Size’s ‘Brown Paper Bag’ (which actually samples a live double bass) would most definitely be in the final ‘Amy Lee Biopic Soundtrack,’ in case you were wondering.
I’m not sure what the defining songs of this ‘parent of young kids’ era of my life will be (the theme song to Bluey?) but I remain wistful about music, and fascinated by the magical art of music making. Despite the heinous font choices in the opening credits, I was glued to the recent Beatles Get Back documentary: to witness iconic songs being made was at once revealing and totally confounding. Melodies seemed to tumble from them, even when they were struggling, and their command of their instruments and notes put this very average school level piano player (Grade 6, on the second attempt) to shame.
So, I was brimming with questions for musician and composer Brandon Wilde when we sat down to chat this month. Now settled in Kingston, NY with his young family, Brandon has spent his entire adult life as a successful musician, working both as a solo artist and in bands including Black Bunny and All Night Chemists. He spent a good portion of his younger years touring the US and Europe, including a stint in the UK when Damon Albarn and Liam Gallagher were running the country. His album, Songs From The Deep Sleep, was described by one reviewer as “Paul McCartney meets Elliot Smith,” and his original songs have been used to soundtrack various hit TV shows, including 90s icons ER and Dawson’s Creek.
Brandon is one of those naturally gifted musicians who thinks nothing of switching instruments when needed, and even roles — he moved from bass guitarist to lead singer when his career was taking off in NYC, and he’s been producing other people’s music in recent years. Over tea in his home studio, we explored the span of his career so far: including pivotal decision points like whether to choose roller skating over music, and such highlights as kipping above a famous recording studio in Liverpool, riding in convertibles with Rage Against The Machine in California, and rubbing Lauryn Hill’s pregnant belly in downtown New York. He’s proudly been “doing nothing but making music” since his early twenties — no mean feat in the ficklest of industries — and he still has a relentless urge to create.
Here’s more from my conversation with Brandon, where I tried to figure out how he conjures sweet and soulful music from thin air.
Brandon and Thisway bandmates circa 1999 (Photo credit: Catalina Gonzalez)
Amy Lee: Brandon, thank you for welcoming me into your recording studio. Let’s start at the beginning: Did you always know you wanted to be a musician?
Brandon Wilde: Ever since I was super young, I was making up songs, in the car, just singing stuff. My folks were very supportive — they are both artists, both teachers of art. I grew up in Manhattan Beach and got really good at roller skating and music; and one of them was going to be the path. The roller rink was in Sheepshead Bay, I loved it and got really good at dancing on skates.
Manhattan Beach was very different vibe back then — a real mix of liberal minded people. My school was right across the street from my house, so if I cut school I had to be very careful. I was always drawing, it was hard for me to pay attention; I didn’t relate to a lot of the older teachers, they seemed ancient. I got in trouble for drawing all the time. Then there was the Mark Twain middle school in Coney Island, where I was an art major. It ruined my art career! They squeezed the creativity out of me, the way they taught was very structured. But I still love to draw; I find it very relaxing.
It was a path of music from then on. I wanted to go to Berklee College of Music in Boston, a famous jazz school. They didn’t accept me on guitar, so I reapplied on electric bass and got in. It was amazing. You think you’re hot shit in your little town, then you see the best players in the world — it was sobering and inspiring.
A lot of people need bass players so I did a lot of gigs. I moved into a house with a band in this huge house in Brookline, a block away from where JFK grew up. We were playing parties, playing bars.
AL: I’m seeing a combo of both creativity and tenacity in your journey. So, tell me, how do you go from playing bars in Boston to recording albums in NYC?
BW: My girlfriend at the time wanted to go cross country and I chose love over the band, so I left Boston. We went all the way to California and back, driving. Then I moved back in with my folks. My mum did a great thing and said ‘we’re selling the house’ and they moved to Manhattan; I told her “don’t get an apartment where I can have a room,” because I didn’t want to get stuck.
Once I was in New York, a producer I met encouraged me to sing more — his belief in me got me on this path of going to record a demo. He suggested that I work with Chris Foley, a guitar player, saying ‘this guy would be great for your record.’ So, I asked him to be in a band that didn’t exist yet. He had a gig in Martha’s Vineyard, and I was going to see a dancer there — I was courting him the whole way there, playing him all these different songs on my guitar, like Sam Cooke and Ray Charles.
I was working two jobs at the time to pay for recording time — a temp at Gray Advertising during the day and at night in Chung King Recording Studios, where they recorded the Beastie Boys. It was when The Fugees were huge, Wyclef would come in recording his first solo record, and Lauryn Hill was pregnant and let me rub her belly.
I made a four song recording. I was very green about music, not jaded at all. Chris was really good at connections — we went to a party thrown by a guy who worked for Reprise Records; they were founded by Frank Sinatra, had Neil Young and all sorts. I give him a cassette of the songs. He calls me the next day and takes us out and says ‘I want to sign your band.’ We hadn’t played any shows yet!
Now the vision is I’m going to be the front man of this band, called Thisway. There were four of us by now: me and Chris, plus Len Monachello on bass, and Andy LaDue on drums. Suddenly Columbia Records and these other labels were checking us out. It was an innocent time in the late ‘90s. We played our first gig at the Spiral; and our first proper gig at Mercury Lounge. Every label comes to see us, it was super big and terrifying. Our drummer’s wife went into labor that night; my legs were shaking, but I was very optimistic.
Brandon recording in Parr Street Studios, Liverpool, England (image courtesy of Brandon Wilde)
AL: It sounds like a movie. What happened next? How did you end up in the UK at the height of Britpop?
BW: Soon after that gig, the head of A&R, David Kahne, flies us out to Cali to record some demos. We can’t believe it, they get us a convertible to drive around and Rage Against the Machine are there; it’s blowing our minds.
We record a couple of songs, and when he offered us a proper record deal we thought ‘why not?’ and signed a two record deal. But it really wasn’t a good fit — he was making us more commercial and pop. We fancied ourselves a proper rock band. We made our first record in LA, and you get a short window, two weeks, to see if the single works, otherwise it’s over. Then we got some songs on TV and commercials.
We decided to do our second album in Liverpool, England, to work with Ken Nelson, who worked with Gomez and Coldplay. We were his first American band, and a much better band by then. It was my dream to be in England — I love the Scouse accents, I love everything English. We were recording and staying in the Parr Street Studios, once owned by Genesis. We would go out to the local clubs, sometimes bring back a troop of people and get a little crazy. There was a cook who made us meals, we had beds on another floor, it was so dreamy. Echo and the Bunnymen would peek in on us and we ended up opening for them in Manchester.
We came back to mix the record — it cost more money to mix the record in NYC for two weeks than it did to live in England for four months. Then 9/11 happened right in the middle of our mixing, and the music just didn’t feel that important.
Our sound was very English, and the new head of Reprise was looking for bands that sounded like Limp Bizkit. We should have stayed in England like Jimi Hendrix did. The label dropped us and that record never came out, which is so sad. We went on a few more years, played opening for Ian McCulloch and Supergrass. That’s when I started going into solo stuff, and Black Bunny with Chris again. It was never again the big dream like back in the day.
‘Songs From The Deep Sleep’ album cover, featuring a photo of a young Brandon Wilde (image courtesy of Brandon Wilde)
AL: The music industry has changed beyond recognition since that time. As charts become less meaningful, where do you look for satisfaction as an artist?
BW: I feel good when I’m creating, so if the music gets out there and people enjoy it, that’s fantastic. I have to keep writing songs and making music or a part of me dies. Since the record deal I’ve done nothing but music. I parlayed into producing — somewhere in the 2000s — I learned how to engineer and record people, so I started to record artists.
If you measure [achievement] simply from “success”, you will be disappointed. My mum is constantly creating artwork and poetry and she’s a constant inspiration to me. I just have to keep trying to make good art and keep going.
AL: With your instinct for disarmingly catchy yet heartfelt melodies, you are regularly compared to Paul McCartney. Tell me about your influences.
BW: My folks would always play The Beatles, The Stones, and my Dad played a lot of classical music. I loved it all, it was so magical to me. I remember hearing ABBA, Dancing Queen, for the first time and thinking ‘how do you make something sound like that?” I had such an interest in the sounds.
I always wanted my voice to sound scruffy and scratchy — but I just don’t have that. Once in my twenties, I started to accept and believe in it, the more my writing started to be truthful. Hearing people like Jeff Buckley, Thom Yorke; I’m not trying to sound like them but it’s where my voice naturally goes.
More recent artists… hmmm… I really like Thao and the Get Down Stay Down, and I’ve loved Elliot Smith for years, there’s something in his delivery and honesty. I like Elbow, The Doves, I remember liking the early Travis records — watching TV in Liverpool, the whole Britpop thing was much bigger in England than here. Blur have so many great records — the creativity of that band, they have proven it. I remember we went and saw them play outdoors and they played that “woohoo song” and I thought we were gonna get trampled by people running to the stage.
AL: As a music lover with no skill, I’m so curious about songwriting. What is your process?
BW: I think I write in a very difficult way — I am usually playing an instrument, guitar or piano, maybe some words will come out. I might build a whole song around that. I’m almost like an archeologist or excavator, finding the shape in there. Then much later I can look back and say ‘OK, this song is about this, I had no idea.’ It goes back to when I’m improvising, I’ll play something that feels good in my hands. Sometimes I will really like the melody or chords, but I have to create a stronger lyric. The fight for me is ‘what’s my story’ — is this song about me?
I’m always searching for the truth. Sometimes when I’m creating songs, I’ll go back and listen to things I’m doing and when I hear something I don’t recognize in myself, I’ll be more interested. Some songs I’m still happy with, others I got too caught up in the production.
I love exploring simplicity in my own music. Maybe my initial idea for a song was the best it will ever be — it depends who I’m listening to on the inside of myself. Sometimes as a producer I’m fixing minute things all the time… but who cares. It’s not about perfection, it’s about emotion. Because I produce my own stuff these days, I go back and forth between being the artist and the scientist; maybe I’m focusing on something that’s not that important in the big scheme, like the kick drum… while most listeners focus on the story.
Brandon at home in upstate NY, 2021 (image courtesy of Aparna Sampat)
AL: You sing about California quite a bit on your Hearts in Stereo album. The Hudson Valley is a little chillier than the West Coast. How do you feel about this new chapter upstate?
BW: Cali is dreamy when you’re there. I did have some friends who lived out there and was a little jealous of their lifestyle, especially this time of year — but to make that jump always felt like the gravity was different from what I’m used to.
There’s a lot more quiet and space and so much beauty here. I feel excited, I feel very creative. I have all these songs in me. I don’t know what my Kingston sound is yet! I’ll have to get back to you on that.
Thank you, Brandon, for the melodies and where they take us. Now, I’m going to turn up ‘Ooh La’ really loud and dream of summers gone by, riding bikes and smoking bongs, with only exam results to worry about.
Stay warm everyone — Spring is coming. More interviews with artists and innovators coming soon. In the meantime check out the eclectic mix of cinema and theater at the Rosendale Theater and musical experiences on offer at the Avalon Lounge in Catskill.